and provisions, before the hurricane was upon us. Henceforth there
was no stirring out of doors until the gale had blown itself out. We
dragged in some driftwood, barricaded the door, and prepared to pass
the time as well as we could. Oh, the fleas in the hut! The ground
was literally alive with them, and their audacity and appetite was
unparalleled. Our boatmen sat tranquilly by the tiny window and
played cribbage incessantly with very dirty cards and a board made
out of a small bar of soap. As for me, I turned an empty box up on
its end, so as to get out of the way of the fleas, and perched
myself on it, finding ample occupation in defending my position from
the attacks of the active little wretches. Sometimes I felt as if I
must rush out into the lake and drown myself and my tormentors
together. It was very bad for everybody. The poor boatmen
doubtless wished to smoke, but were too polite to do anything of the
sort. F--- had nothing whatever to read, except a torn piece of an
old _Times_, at least two years old, which we had brought to wrap up
some of our provisions; whilst I was still more idle and wretched.
Two weary interminable days dragged, or perhaps I should say, blew,
themselves along in this miserable fashion, but at sundown on the
evening of the third day the wind dropped suddenly, and we did not
lose a moment in darting out of our prison and embarking once more.
For the first time since we started we could perceive the grandeur
of the surrounding country; but grand scenery is not necessary nor
indeed desirable in a sheep run. Splendid mountains ran down in
steep spurs to the very shore of the enormous lake. Behind them,
piled in snowy steeps, rose the distant Alps of the Antipodes; great
masses of native bush made dark purple shadows among the clefts of
the hills, whilst the lake rippled in and out of many a graceful bay
and quiet harbour. Not a fleck or film of cloud floated between us
and the serene and darkening sky; a profound, delightful calm