150 A SPORTSMAN'S EDEN. 



darkness, when my horse and I took the road 

 again ; but to an English mind fourteen miles 

 seems such a little way, that in spite of warning 

 I started cheerily enough. Of course it was 

 dark before I got much more than half-way, in 

 spite of the efforts I made to make the most of 

 the pale shadows of twilight. After them came 

 dense darkness and rain which seemed to sweep 

 along the track in sheets. I could not see my 

 horse's head, much less the narrow trail. Later 

 on, even the horse went wrong. I had for an 

 hour past left the direction entirely to her, hoping 

 she would forgive my sins in the past and not 

 precipitate me headlong from any of the little 

 toy bridges we had to pass into the roaring 

 torrents below. But it was a shock to my nerves 

 when I heard her crashing amongst the brush, 

 felt that SHE was wandering from side to side, 

 and then that SHE had stopped, dead ! If SHE 

 could not find the way, I certainly could not ; so 

 I just sat still until SHE chose to try again, while 

 a fine little brook rose somewhere near the nape 

 of my neck, bubbled merrily down my spine, and 

 rushed out in twin torrents over my boots. 

 After a pause, poor old Rosinante gave a groan 

 and tried again, appearing to me actually to feel 

 the ground with her nose as she went, her en- 

 deavours being rewarded nearly an hour later by 



