Upa had indicated that we were to stop for rest at the "Half Way
House;" and, as I was hardly able to sit on my horse owing to
fatigue, I consoled myself by visions of a comfortable sofa and a
cup of tea. It was with real dismay that I found the reality to
consist of a grass hut, much out of repair, and which, bad as it
was, was locked. Upa said we had ridden so slowly that it would be
dark before we reached the volcano, and only allowed us to rest on
the grass for half-an-hour. He had frequently reiterated "Half Way
House, you wear spur;" and, on our remounting, he buckled on my foot
a heavy rusty Mexican spur, with jingling ornaments and rowels an
inch and a half long. These horses are so accustomed to be jogged
with these instruments that they won't move without them. The
prospect of five hours more riding looked rather black, for I was
much exhausted, and my shoulders and knee-joints were in severe
pain. Miss K.'s horse showed no other appreciation of a stick with
which she belaboured him than flourishes of his tail, so, for a
time, he was put in the middle, that Upa might add his more forcible
persuasions, and I rode first and succeeded in getting my lazy
animal into the priestly amble known at home as "a butter and eggs
trot," the favourite travelling pace, but this not suiting the
guide's notion of progress, he frequently rushed up behind with a
torrent of Hawaiian, emphasized by heavy thumps on my horse's back,
which so sorely jeopardised my seat on the animal, owing to his
resenting the interference by kicking, that I "dropped astern" for
the rest of the way, leaving Upa to belabour Miss K.
Pages:
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99