WE LEAVE THE LINDIS--ATTEMPT TO DRIVE FAT CATTLE TO THE
DIGGINGS AND FAIL--RETURN TO DUNEDIN.
On the return journey we had as much company as when we came, and the
road was even worse, but the dray being almost empty we experienced less
difficulty in proceeding. The first day took us out of McLean's run, and
the second saw us at nightfall on Miller and Gooche's side of the pass,
which was still snowed over, but the traffic had worked the track up
into deep slush and mud, and late in the evening we were near losing the
dray and horses in a swamp we had inadvertently entered while seeking a
better passage. With the assistance of some friendly diggers we
succeeded in extricating them, but the unfortunate accident prevented
our proceeding further that night, and we passed it on the borders of
the swamp where not an atom of firewood could be obtained. The ground
was in a puddle of melted snow and mud, not a dry spot to be found. We
were muddy and wet from head to foot, without the means of making even a
pannikin of tea, and the night was pitch dark. We just crouched down
together by the dray, hungry, shivering, and fagged. Sleep, of course,
was out of the question, and we had constantly to clap our arms to keep
the blood in circulation. Towards midnight intense frost set in. We
smoked incessantly; in that, I think, was to a great extent our safety.
We did not remove the harness from the horses, which were tied to the
dray without any food for the night. The following morning at eleven
o'clock we arrived at Miller and Gooche's, where we had to melt the ice
off our leggings and boots before we could remove them--and what a
breakfast we ate! Nobody who has not experienced what it is to starve on
a healthy stomach for thirty hours and spend most of that time on a
mountain pass under snow and frost can understand how we appreciated our
food.
The next day we reached Davis's, when Fowler and Legge left us for
Dunedin, and Smith and I arranged with Davis for the purchase of a
couple of fat steers for £12 10s. each, hoping that if we succeeded in
driving them to the diggings we would double our money.
In the afternoon we went with Davis to the run, and selected the
animals, which we drove with a mob to the stockyard. Here we separated
our pair and put them in another yard for a start in the morning.
Driving a couple of wild bullocks alone from their run is, as I have
already explained, by no means an easy task, and Davis warned us that
these would give us trouble--indeed, I believe he considered us slightly
mad to attempt to drive the beasts such a distance at all.
On first starting we had no small difficulty in preventing them
returning to the run, and it cost us some hard galloping to get them
away on the road to Miller and Gooche's, where it was our intention to
yard for the night.
We had proceeded to within a mile of the station, when the brutes for
the twentieth time bolted, on this occasion taking to the hills over
some low spurs and rocky ground, intersected with ravines and gullies. I
was riding hard to intercept them when I was suddenly sent flying on to
my head, turning a somersault on to a rough bank of spear grass. Shaking
myself together and somewhat recovering from the shock, I discovered the
tail and stern of my steed projecting above the ground, the remainder of
him being invisible. It appeared he had planted his fore feet in a deep
fissure covered with long grass, and just large enough to take in head
and fore parts. The shock sent me over, as I described, while he
remained stuck.
It was a ridiculous position, and tired, sore from the spear-grass, and
annoyed as I was, I could not refrain from a hearty laugh at our
predicament before attempting to extricate my unhappy quadruped; this I
succeeded in doing with some difficulty, and found him, with the
exception of some few scratches, quite unhurt.
I again mounted, but the wily steers had disappeared, and Smith was
nowhere to be seen, I rode quietly on and presently discovered the
latter, himself and horse dead beat, and using very unparliamentary
language at our bad luck, at the beasts, and at gold diggings in
general.
We had nothing for it but to go back to Miller's for the night. The
following day we returned to Davis's, where we found the bullocks had
arrived the night before, and Davis, after a laugh at our misadventures,
returned us the £25, and the same evening we left for Dunedin. We camped
some ten miles further down the Waitaki, with a very eccentric personage
in the form of an old retired clergyman of the Church of England. He
lived like a hermit in a small hut under the hills, which he had built
himself, as well as some outbuildings and a capital little bakery, which
he was very proud of. He cultivated a small plot of ground, where he
grew potatoes and other vegetables and kept a cow, and he possessed
several cats and a couple of fine collie dogs. He gave food--especially
bread--to any traveller passing who needed it, and free quarters for the
night. He showed us a small canoe in which he was in the habit of
paddling himself across the river, and was always ready to obey a call
to any, even distant, station where his services were needed in a case
of illness, death, or marriage. He was a most entertaining host, and we
enjoyed the night we spent with him in his curious and lonely
habitation. We heard that he had suffered some severe domestic calamity,
which drove him to his present lonely life, but he spent his days in
doing all the good that lay in his power, and doubtless many a passing
traveller was the better in more ways than one for meeting the old
recluse.
On arriving at Dunedin we found that Legge had already disposed of the
dray satisfactorily, and Smith finding a purchaser for his horse he
parted with him, thus placing us all in funds. It was decided then that
Smith and Legge should take the coasting steamer to Port Lyttelton,
while I proceeded overland with my own horse and "Jack the Devil,"
arranging to meet at Christchurch. Fowler left us at Dunedin, and we saw
him no more.
My journey back was uneventful, but happening to meet with Bains, of the
Post, the original owner of my horse, we exchanged mounts for a
consideration of £5 transferred from his pocket to mine. He wanted his
harness horse back, while I needed only a saddle horse, so the exchange
was a satisfactory one in every way, and enabled me to hasten my journey
to Christchurch, where I found Legge and Smith awaiting me.
We sold Jack for twice what he cost us, and squared accounts for the
trip, which, although it did not fulfill the brilliant expectations with
which we started upon it, was nevertheless an interesting and pleasant
experience, and one which we would have been sorry to have missed.
I found home letters awaiting me, with renewed requests from my father
to return while there was time to resume my studies, and offering me
further assistance if I needed it. I declined all, feeling that I could
not now renounce the life I had chosen, and it would not be right of me,
in opposition to his opinion, to accept any financial assistance even
had I needed it, which was not the case. I had tried most phases of a
colonial life, had gained a great deal of experience, and knew that I
could always obtain remunerative employment, and after I had enjoyed a
little more rambling and freedom I could decide on some fixed line to
settle down upon. In the meantime there was no immediate hurry, and I
was very young.