slow and cat-like climb, we could hear the ring of the bushmen's
axes, and the warning shouts preceding the crashing fall of a Black
Birch. Fallen logs and deep ruts made by the sledges in their
descent, added to the difficulties of the track; and I was so
faint-hearted as to entreat piteously, on more than one occasion,
when Helen paused and shook her head preparatory to climbing over a
barricade, to be "taken off." But F--- had been used to these
dreadful roads for too many years to regard them in the same light
as I did, and would answer carelessly, "Nonsense: you're as safe as
if you were sitting in an arm-chair." All I can say is, it might
have been so, but I did not feel at all like it.

However, the event proved him to have been right, and we reached the
clearing in safety. Here we dismounted, and led the horses to a
place where they could nibble some grass, and rest in the cool
shade. The saddles and bridles were soon removed, and halters
improvised out of the New Zealand flax, which can be turned to so
many uses. Having provided for the comfort of our faithful animals,
our next step was to look for the bushmen. The spot which we had
reached was their temporary home in the heart of the forest, but
their work was being carried on elsewhere. I could not have told
from which side the regular ringing axe-strokes proceeded, so
confusing were the echoes from the cliffs around us; but after a
moment's silent pause F--- said, "If we follow that track (pointing
to a slightly cleared passage among the trees) we shall come upon
them." So I kilted up my linsey skirt, and hung up my little
jacket, necessary for protection against the evening air, on a bough
out of the wekas' reach, whilst I followed F--- through tangled
creepers, "over brake, over brier," towards the place from whence
the noise of falling trees proceeded. By the time we reached it,