We were on the moraine of an old glacier,and saw nothing in front of us but frightful precipices and glaciers.There was a saddle,however,not above a couple of thousand feet higher.This saddle was covered with snow,and,as we had neither provisions nor blankets,we were obliged to give up going to the top of it.We returned with less reluctance,from the almost absolute certainty,firstly,that we were not upon the main range;secondly,that this saddle would only lead to the Waimakiriri,the next river above the Rakaia.Of these two points my companion was so convinced,that we did not greatly regret leaving it unexplored.Our object was commercial,and not scientific;our motive was pounds,shillings,and pence:and where this failed us,we lost all excitement and curiosity.I fear that we were yet weak enough to have a little hankering after the view from the top of the pass,but we treated such puerility with the contempt that it deserved,and sat down to rest ourselves at the foot of a small glacier.We then descended,and reached the horses at nightfall,fully satisfied that,beyond the flat beside the riverbed of the Harpur,there was no country to be had in that direction.We also felt certain that there was no pass to the west coast up that branch of the Rakaia,but that the saddle at the head of it would only lead to the Waimakiriri,and reveal the true backbone range farther to the west.The mountains among which we had been climbing were only offsets from the main chain.
This might be shown also by a consideration of the volume of water which supplies the main streams of the Rakaia and the Waimakiriri,and comparing it with the insignificant amount which finds its way down the Harpur.The glaciers that feed the two larger streams must be very extensive,thus showing that the highest range lies still farther to the northward and westward.The Waimakiriri is the next river to the northward of the Rakaia.
That night we camped as before,only I was more knowing,and slept with my clothes on,and found a hollow for my hip-bone,by which contrivances I slept like a top.Next morning,at early dawn,the scene was most magnificent.The mountains were pale as ghosts,and almost sickening from their death-like whiteness.We gazed at them for a moment or two,and then turned to making a fire,which in the cold frosty morning was not unpleasant.Shortly afterwards we were again en route for the station from which we had started.We burnt the flats as we rode down,and made a smoke which was noticed between fifty and sixty miles off.Ihave seen no grander sight than the fire upon a country which has never before been burnt,and on which there is a large quantity of Irishman.
The sun soon loses all brightness,and looks as though seen through smoked glass.The volumes of smoke are something that must be seen to be appreciated.The flames roar,and the grass crackles,and every now and then a glorious lurid flare marks the ignition of an Irishman;his dry thorns blaze fiercely for a minute or so,and then the fire leaves him,charred and blackened for ever.A year or two hence,a stiff nor'-wester will blow him over,and he will lie there and rot,and fatten the surrounding grass;often,however,he shoots out again from the roots,and then he is a considerable nuisance.On the plains Irishman is but a small shrub,that hardly rises higher than the tussocks;it is only in the back country that it attains any considerable size:there its trunk is often as thick as a man's body.
We got back about an hour after sundown,just as heavy rain was coming on,and were very glad not to be again camping out,for it rained furiously and incessantly the whole night long.Next day we returned to the lower station belonging to my companion,which was as replete with European comforts as the upper was devoid of them;yet,for my part,Icould live very comfortably at either.
