250 CHRISTCHURCH chap. 
of extinction. When we got on to some big rocks in 
the middle of the stream, then plunged into deep water 
again, my heart had another sink ; it was intensely, 
bitterly cold, and once or twice the mare felt as if she 
would roll over. I tried to coax the poor, frightened 
creature as she clambered now on to another rock, 
shivering and stumbling, then another plunge down, a 
swim for a minute or two, a strong struggle, and she 
dragged herself panting on to the bank. 
I was so numbed with the cold that I dared not 
ride farther, and the guide taking my horse, I walked 
the rest of the way home straight to bed. 
A few days later we all left with strong misgivings 
as to how we would fare crossing the river, for the coach 
the trip before had been turned over by the force of the 
current, and Barry, our plucky driver, sent rolling down 
the stream, half drowned. They pulled him out none 
the worse, beyond a few bruises, for his ducking. The 
brightest sun was shining, and the view looking back on 
those grand peaks one not easily forgotten. The lower 
mountains were of the most intense blue — " sign of a 
coming nor'wester," they said — and one black cloud 
only rested on the solitary peak of Mount Cook. 
" Now, hold on, ladies, for the next five minutes are 
anxious ones," Barry said, and so they were, and we 
did hold on, for the tilts backwards, then forwards, and 
sideways, and upways, unseated us each time. The 
water once swished through the coach, and we gave a 
sigh of relief when the other side was reached. 
The dense clouds now became blacker, and the 
thunder echoes multiplied a thousandfold among the 
mountains, then terminated in one ear-splitting crash, 
and down came the sleet and down the strong nor'- 
wester on us. For a moment everything seemed in a 
glorious confusion, for the coach was an open one, and 
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