34 THE HAPPY VALLEY. 



In the days I am writing about, there were no railways 

 or telegraphs and very few roads, so that if we wanted to get 

 to any place quickly we were obliged to ask friends to post 

 horses for us at stages of from ten to twelve miles apart. I 

 once rode a hundred and thirty miles on a stretch to join 

 a hog-hunting party, was out hog-hunting all the week, and 

 then had to ride back again. I lost my way going there and 

 had to sleep out in a field for half the night. I do not think I 

 ever suffered so much from thirst as I did on that occasion. I 

 was benighted, and had to go some ten or twelve miles with 

 a couple of guides to where one of the horses was posted ; 

 there was no water on the way, and I was in a perfect agony 

 of thirst ; I suddenly heard a frog croak ; in an instant I was 

 off my pony and rushed to the spot ; the guides shouted 

 that the water was not fit to drink, but nothing could stop me, 

 I was mad with thirst ; the kind of pea soup composition I 

 felt I was swallowing must have been very bad and it is 

 a wonder I escaped cholera ; fortunately I was young and 

 healthy and no harm came of it. 



Riding down the fearfully steep rocky hills when hog- 

 hunting at Ahmed-nugger made us young fellows rather 

 reckless ; I once nearly paid very dear for my rashness. I 

 was out with a brother officer at a lovely spot within a ride 

 of the station, called the Happy Valley. The pass down to 

 the plains was exceedingly steep and dangerous, in fact, 

 nothing more than a foot path, very narrow in places, and 

 very precipitous, and no one had ever ridden down it. My 

 friend proposed we should make the attempt, so we started, I 

 on a horse with only one eye, and unfortunately the good eye 

 was towards the hill. On coming round a sharp turning in 

 a very precipitous part of the pass, there was a stone painted 



