I remembered Mrs.
W-'s corns, and anathematised them in my heart.
It may be imagined that I turned out of a comfortable bed, slipped on my
boots, and then went out; no such thing: we were all lying in our
clothes with one blanket between us and the bare floor--our heads
pillowed on our saddle-bags.
The next day we made only three miles to Mr. P-'s station. There we
unloaded the dray, greased it, and restored half the load, intending to
make another journey for the remainder, as the road was very bad.
One dray had been over the ground before us. That took four days to do
the first ten miles, and then was delayed several weeks on the bank of
the Rangitata by a series of very heavy freshes, so we determined on
trying a different route: we got farther on our first day than our
predecessor had done in two, and then Possum, one of the bullocks, lay
down (I am afraid he had had an awful hammering in a swampy creek where
he had stuck for two hours), and would not stir an inch; so we turned
them all adrift with their yokes on (had we taken them off we could not
have yoked them up again), whereat Possum began feeding in a manner
which plainly showed that there had not been much amiss with him.
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