the snow as the
breathing holes testified. The visit and inspection were as satisfactory
as we hoped, and after a short rest and hasty lunch, we started on our
return journey, which, as it would be in our old tracks, and for the
most part downhill, would be very much easier than the previous one.

It was well that our homeward journey was easier, or the trip would not
have ended as satisfactorily as it did. We all felt on starting that we
had had nearly enough work, and looked forward longingly to the snug
huts two miles distant. It was now half-past one, and by three o'clock
darkness and severe frost would set in (indeed, it was freezing all
day). We originally trusted to reach the station by that hour, but we
had delayed longer with the sheep than we should have.

We proceeded manfully and had accomplished about half the distance when
Cook, who had been exhibiting signs of weariness, suddenly "sat down in
his tracks," and asked for some grog, which was given him. This revived
him somewhat, and we again got under weigh, keeping him in the rear, but
after a little while he again succumbed, and said he could go no
further. He was quite happy, only looked a bit dazed, said he was tired
and sleepy, and begged us to go on, and send a man and horse for him.
This was what we feared. He was too far gone to remember that a horse
could not walk where we had come. There was nothing for it but to carry,
or assist him as best we could, and keep him moving, for if we had left
him he would have frozen dead in half an hour. With this fear we
received new strength, and two by two, we half carried and half dragged
him for some distance when we were met by the hut keeper, and the
remaining station hand, an old man, by name Darby--who, as agreed, had
left to seek us, fearing some accident. With this additional assistance
Cook was carried the remaining distance, and laid, now quite asleep, on
a cot, where we rubbed his extremities with snow, till circulation
returned, and then let him sleep, which he did, and indeed which we all
did, until very late the following day.

The same winter a sad accident occurred on a run south of Canterbury,
belonging to two brothers, by name, I think, McKenzie. They went alone
to visit their sheep in the snow, and when returning, the elder got
tired and could not proceed. He contentedly sat down, desiring his
brother to go on to the station and send him assistance. The latter,
fearing nothing, left him, and