On an Austral Beach. 141 
ward hill slope; a flock of green and golden 
parrots shrieked angrily at us from the boughs 
of a blossoming honeysuckle—and then we came 
out again into the light and warmth of the sun¬ 
shine and the noise of the tumbling surf and 
seabird clamour of the open beach. 
“ Now we can go as hard as we like,” said 
Sandy, and away he shot before us over the 
hard, firm sand, riding close to the water’s edge, 
and hurrooing wildly at the whirling clouds of 
seagulls and divers as they rose with hoarse, 
protesting croaks at the galloping feet of our 
shoeless steeds. Two miles onward, and then a 
tiny shining stream of water that cut its way 
through the sand to the sea brought us up 
sharply—for our horses knew the danger of a 
quicksand—and we walked cautiously up to 
beyond high-water mark, and there crossed. 
Then, for the next hour or so we walked or 
trotted soberly along, smoking our pipes and 
watching through the transparent green of the 
rollers as they curled to break fifty yards away, 
the darting forms of countless thousands of 
great sea-mullet swarming beachward with the 
rising tide. Sometimes as we approached too 
near to the water there would be an agitated 
