34 PECULIARITY OF MY MAKE. 



White's or the ' Rag,' and the lad who sweeps the 

 crossing in front of either of these comfortable re- 

 treats from domestic tyranny. Still I hoped better 

 days were in store for my ponies. The wielder of the 

 broom hopes the same, but are his anticipations 

 ever realised ? 



Although kept awake for several hours by some 

 half-starved native of these wastes, who howled his 

 lungs nearly out of his carcass, I awoke betimes, and 

 hurrying over my simple breakfast, saddled up, and 

 got under way. The landscape continued very un- 

 inviting, for even dwarf vegetation was scarce. Still 

 the surface of the soil was less packed with boulders, 

 and the mountains did not appear so elevated. 



A little after the sun had crossed the meridian, I 

 mounted for an hour's ride. After being possibly thirty 

 minutes in the saddle, the mare, who had been pre- 

 viously walking so listlessly as to toe several stones, 

 and once almost to pitch on her head, voluntarily 

 accelerated her pace. Soon after her ears became 

 pricked, and an unwonted animation told that some 

 living creature was in our vicinity. From my long 

 acquaintance with the old lady, I knew her peculiari- 

 ties thoroughly. In fact, she was almost equal to a 

 pointer in telling me to prepare for a shot. 



Why she did so I never could tell, unless that 

 she associated my killing game with the half-hour's 

 or more rest she generally obtained, while I was 

 removing the hide of the victim, or selecting such 

 tit-bits as most pleased my appetite. 



