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I said I had no desire to join in the hunt. The fact was, I was awkwardly burdened. It happened that young Harris had, for the purpose of gaining practical experience, formerly resided at one of the out-stations we had visited. He had returned to the head station to live, but had all his clothes still at the hut. Being desirous of removing them, he had emptied his box on to the horses' backs. Stevenson had a great heap in front of him, which he threw to me when he started. I had a quantity also, and as Harris could not use his whip while carrying his lot, he hastily transferred that as well to me. I was thus barricaded to the chin with flannels and cotton shirts, trousers, coats, etc., for it was an outfit he had brought from England, provided by an anxious mother. I could scarcely see before me, and when he started off after the superintendent I actually had to grope for the reins. I had hardly thrown my arms over the 'swag' (to use a colonial phrase), when off started my excited horse after the others. As I galloped about, the articles worked loose one after another, and I must have cut a ridiculous figure, as I helplessly scudded hither and thither, dropping a shirt here, and a pair of trousers there. I faithfully tried to fulfil the duty assigned me, and held on to the bundles as long as I could, but at last a shirt, which worked loose and streamed out like a banner, got over my head and blinded me, and I was obliged to let them go, in order to see where I was rushing to.