CHAPTER VII 



NEW ZEALAND DEER-STALKING 



ON 1st April I left the Dingle hut with Buckley, 

 my guide, and Donald, whom I engaged under the 

 delusion that he could cook. With Buckley I got 

 on very well. Donald was a splendid example of 

 the worst type of Colonial. Obstinate, ignorant, and 

 narrow-minded, he imagined that the world re- 

 volved around the particular circle of which he, in 

 his own estimation, was the admired centre. Now, 

 having nothing particular to do, he had conde- 

 scended as a favour to come with us in the laudable 

 endeavour, I should imagine, to rid the world of two 

 of the detested Britishers. As Buckley pithily re- 

 marked, he had nothing to do and did less ! Rows 

 were constant, as was inevitable when we found the 

 only bit of meat in camp lying beside a filthy frying- 

 pan, exposed to any of the elements which chose 

 to visit them. He was the one ugly blot on an 

 otherwise enjoyable trip. He finally went but that 

 was later. 



Our camp was on the edge of the bush on the 

 steep side of a thickly-wooded glen, which ran at 

 right angles to the Dingle Valley. Hawley's was 

 about a mile away over the main ridge which we 



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