MOUNTAIN STORM. 23 



first time for many days, rode. I continued to 

 push my course to the north. Travelling was 

 sufficiently good to enable me to make a fair journey 

 possibly twenty miles. About two hours before 

 sundown we halted for the night, and, fatigued as I 

 was, I lost no time in seeking the rest which I needed. 

 I had got soundly into dreamland when (as I imagine 

 from the appearance of the few stars visible, it wanted 

 a couple of hours to midnight) I was awakened by a 

 subdued rushing sound, the origin of which was ex- 

 plained by a glance in the direction from whence the 

 wind came. I was about to witness a specimen of the 

 mountain-storms peculiar to this region. Not pos- 

 sessing a tent, it was not incumbent on me to rush 

 to the storm-rope and see that it was secure. I was 

 far more independent. I only pulled my blanket 

 more tightly around me, kicked the balance of the 

 fuel upon the glowing embers, squeezed myself into 

 the smallest possible compass, in order that the di- 

 minutive log to windward of my position should not 

 be overtaxed in its efforts to ward off the coming 

 deluge, and waited the issue. I was not long de- 

 tained in suspense. A few large drops pattered upon 

 the soil, and in a moment after the floodgates of 

 heaven were opened to their full extent, and a perfect 

 waterfall descended. The thunder was loud and ter- 

 rific, and the flashes of lightning were remarkable 

 for their brilliancy. 



Reader, have you ever hunted a water-rat till 

 the poor creature is on the verge of death, from 



