DISCOMFORTS OF CAVE-DWELLING 65 



and continued its ever-augmented course beneath 

 the fir boughs on which we lay, in addition to 

 pouring rain and driving mist, from which we had 

 practically no protection at all, a large waterfall 

 discharged its contents with great precision into 

 the pit of George's stomach, whilst lesser tributaries 

 playing about my legs hinted at the discomfort 

 which he was suffering. No wonder he groaned ! 

 We never had our clothes off for a week, and slept 

 in them, plus pyjamas, a sheepskin coat, and Bur- 

 berrys. George showed great ingenuity in varying 

 his night apparel. 1 1 know a pair of Jaeger trousers 

 tucked into his socks was about the only permanent 

 factor, whilst nightly he grew more bulky about 

 the waist. The lowest which the thermometer re- 

 gistered in the valley had been 69, whilst in the cave 

 it was 39. Nothing availed, and in the cold, grey 

 dawns, pelting, pitiless, and penetrating, so different 

 from my imaginings, three haggard, unshaven 

 objects crept from their respective lairs, and con- 

 verging, half-suffocated, on the miserable ashes of 

 a wood fire, compared notes as to their respective 

 experiences. 



There was nothing to do during the day save 

 dry our clothes, read, and stare blankly into the 

 grey wall of mist, which rose grey and forbidding 

 to the very mouth of the cave. Occasionally it 

 parted, and we could see jagged slopes and granite 

 cliffs, with dense bush, far below us. Gusts of wind 

 would tear it into shreds, and send boiling, swirling 

 masses of vapour into the chasm confronting us. 

 Rarely, very rarely would a glint of blue sky 

 tantalise us into momentary cheerfulness. Then 

 the curtain would roll down once more, and shut 



