hin wooden partition which formed my bedroom, the greatest
silence and decorum continued to reign among my fellow-travellers.

Chapter VII: "Buying a run."--continued.

Early the next morning we all breakfasted together, and then separated
with most polite adieux. We sallied forth to look for a couple of riding
horses. There were none to be hired, so we had to buy two good-looking
nags for 45 pounds a-piece. Now-a-days the same horses would not fetch
more than 10 pounds and I have been told that in Australia you can buy a
horse for a shilling, but ours in New Zealand have never sunk lower
than a couple of pounds, if they had any legs at all. It seemed to the
horse-dealer quite a superfluous question when I timidly inquired if my
horse had ever carried a lady. "No: I can't just say as he has, mum, as
you see there aint no ladies in these parts for him to carry. But," he
added magnanimously, "I'll try him with a blanket fust, if you're at
all oneasy about him." We did not start until the next day, as we had to
hunt up side-saddles, and I had to sew a few yards of grey linsey into
a riding-skirt; but by the following day we were all ready, and our
"swags" packed and strapped to the saddles by nine o'clock. F----'s
horse looked a very nice one in every respect; mine was evidently uneasy
in his mind at the strange shape of his saddle, and I was recommended to
mount outside the little enclosure, on a patch of open ground, where
my steed would not be able to brush me off. The moment I mounted, the
"Hermit" as he was called, made for a dry ditch and tried to lie down,
but a sharp cut from a stock-whip brought him out of it, and then he
laid his ears well back and started for a good gallop, to endeavour to
get rid of his strange rider. However, his head was turned in the right
direction; there were no obstacles in the way, and before he got tired
of his pace we had left Timaru a good many miles behind us. F----
looked complacently at the "Hermit," and observed, "He'll carry you very
nicely, I think." I could only breathe a sincere hope that he might.

It was a beautiful day, warm but not oppressive, and delightfully
calm. Our road lay at first along the sea-shore. Ever since we had left
Christchurch the ground had been almost level, and the road consisted
merely of a track cleared from tussocks. On our left extended the vast
strip known as the Ninety-miles Beach, whilst far on our right, between
us and the west coast, the