Round the Camp-Fire.

Tents rose like mushrooms in the camping spot by the river; a fire blazed up as if by magic: the harum busied itself with slicing onions, carrots and potatoes: and very soon the party was reclining round the camp-fire, filled with good spirits and an excellent slew, singing Extravaganza songs and telling vulgar anecdotes with the heartiness which only Tramping Club members can produce.

It rained very hard during the evening, and the river rose slightly, so a fairly early start was made next morning down the river. It was not long before the party was compelled to swim in places; and the task of swimming in clothes, and the enormous boots and packs that trampers roam around in was productive of much innocent mirth, especially among the harum.

Notwithstanding much ruin, a huge bull, an angry farmer, mud, and several aquatic episodes, the party reached the Duck-pond (a large pool in the Whakatiki River) in moderately good repair. Here a sumptuous lunch was consumed.