THE LURE OF IMPROVEMENTS 



131 



anticipations of happiness rushed upon the mind the emerald sward 

 that was to paint the alluvial flats, the graded tracks up which the pack 

 team was to climb easily, the spurs over which the fencing was to run, 

 its shining wire, its mighty strainers ; the homestead of the future, the 

 spacious wool-shed, the glory of .the grass that was to be, 



It was a joy to wake, to spring out of your bunk half dressed 

 already, there wasn't a nightshirt north of Napier then, to glance 

 through the whare's open door at the clear, innumerable hosts of stars, 

 in the huge fireplace to open up the warm cone of soft grey ash piled 

 carefully overnight, to push into its heart of glowing red the dry 

 kindling, to see the brief smoke ascend, to hear the crackle of the rapid 

 flames. Oh, those were happy days, with no cares, no fears for the 

 future, no burden of personal possession, when every thought was for 

 the run, when every penny that could be scraped together was to be 

 spent on the adornment of that heavenly mistress. 



" Bushrangers? white and black. 



