amphibious Jackeroo.

Another half-hour slipped by in sending the horses' hobbles across on the
pulley that ran on the wire, and in the hobbling out of the horses.
Then, with Jackeroo on one side of the river, and the Maluka and Mac on
the other, swags, saddles, packbags, and camp baggage went over one by
one; and it was well past mid-day before all was finished.

Then my turn came. A surcingle--one of the long thick straps that keep
all firm on a pack-horse--was buckled through the pulley, and the Maluka
crossed first, just to test its safety. It was safe enough; but as he
was dragged through the water most of the way, the pleasantness of
"getting across" on the wire proved a myth.

Mac shortened the strap, and then sat me in it, like a child in a swing.
"Your lighter weight will run clear of the water," he said, with his
usual optimism. "It's only a matter of holding on and keeping cool"; and
as the Maluka began to haul he added final instructions. "Hang on like
grim death, and keep cool, whatever happens," he said.

I promised to obey, and all went well until I reached mid-stream. Then,
the wire beginning to sag threateningly towards the water, Mac flung his
whole weight on to his end of it, and, to his horror, I shot up into the
air like a sky-rocket.

"Hang on! Keep cool!" Mac yelled, in a frenzy of apprehension, as he
swung on his end of the wire. Jackeroo became convulsed with laughter, but
the Maluka pulled hard, and I was soon on the right side of the river,
declaring that I preferred experiences when they were over. Later Mac
accounted for his terror with another unconscious flash of humour. "You