when the day's trek was done, to
"win" as much wood as possible from the nearest station--a sleeper was
extremely useful--build a huge fire, and sit round it in the approved
manner, singing songs and drinking wassail, which latter occasionally
worked out to as much as one tot per man, if you got there early. These
were special occasions, however. As a general thing we were too tired to do
more than roll into the blankets very soon after the evening meal.

It was so cold at nights, too, that some nicety of judgment was necessary
in order to get the best out of our blankets, of which we had two, together
with a greatcoat, cardigan-waistcoat, and cap-comforter or balaclava
helmet, this last a very stout bulwark against the cold blast. The first
business was to dig a shallow, coffin-shaped trench large enough to contain
two; it was much better for two men to bivouac together, since by putting
one blanket only to sleep on, we had three with which to cover ourselves,
besides our greatcoats. Nobody took any clothes off, with the exception of
boots and putties. One man who did so, protesting he was unable to sleep in
his clothes, found in the morning a couple of large beetles preparing to
set up house in his riding-breeches, which materially and permanently
altered his views.

[Illustration: "THE LONG, LONG TRAIL." [_To face p. 80._]

The pillow universally used was a nosebag filled with the next day's feed,
and very comfortable it was, especially now that there were no ravenous
mules to break loose and poke an inquisitive muzzle under our ears. Then
with our cap-comforters on, and perhaps the spare shirt wrapped round the
head, we were snug for the night.

In the mornings there was little temptation to linger between the blankets,
for we were usually awakened by the remarkable change in the temperature of
that hour just before dawn; it was precisely as if a stream of cold air had
suddenly been turned on. Besides, the horses had to be fed, our belongings
had to be made into the neat roll which is strapped on the front of the
saddle, the daily Maconachie had to be devoured, after which came the
saddling-up ready for an early start.

For the first hour or two the journey in the fresh morning air was pleasant
enough; pipes and cigarettes were lit and chaff bandied about. But the very
monotony of the country soon banished any attempt at conversation, and hour
after hour we jogged along in silence. With the exception of ourselves