A stranger, or colonially speaking, a "new chum," would have thought we must needs cross that barrier-range before we could penetrate any distance into the back country, but we knew of long winding vallies and gullies running up between the giant slopes, which would lead us, almost without our knowing how high we had climbed, up to the elevated but sheltered plateau among the back country ranges where Mr.C.H----'s homestead stood.

There was only one steep saddle to be crossed, and that lay between us and Rockwood, six miles off.

It was the worst part of the journey for the horses, so we had easy consciences in dismounting and waiting an hour when we reached that most charming and hospitable of houses.

I had just time for one turn round the beautiful garden, where the flowers and shrubs of old England grew side by side with the wild and lovely blossoms of our new island home, when the expected coo-e rang out shrill and clear from the rose-covered porch.

It was but little past mid-day when we made our second start, and set seriously to work over fifteen miles of fairly good galloping ground.