you kindly, m'm."



Chapter IX: Another shepherd's hut.


To get to Ned's hut--which was not nearly so trim or comfortable as
Salter's, and stood out in the midst of a vast plain covered with
waving yellow tussocks,--we had to cross a low range of hills, and
pick our way through nearly a mile of swampy ground on the other
side. The sure-footed horses zig-zagged their way up the steep
hill-side with astonishing ease, availing themselves here and there
of a sheep track, for sheep are the best engineers in the world, and
always hit off the safest and easiest line of country. I did not
feel nervous going _up_ the hill, although we must have appeared,
had there been any one to look at us, more like flies on a wall than
a couple of people on horse back, but when we came to the ridge and
looked down on the descent beneath us, my heart fairly gave way.

Not a blade of grass, or a leaf of a shrub, was to be seen on all
the steep slope, or rather precipice, for there was very little
slope about it; nothing but grey loose shingle, which the first
hoof-fall of the leading horse invariably sent slipping and sliding,
in a perfect avalanche of rubble, down into the soft bright green
morass beneath. Of all the bad "tracks" I encountered in my
primitive rides, I really believe I suffered more real terror and
anguish on that particular hill-side than on any other. My
companion's conduct too, used to be heartless in the extreme. He
let the reins fall loosely on his horse's neck, merely holding their