I have no doubt that if I had taken advice, I could have stowed
my load more conveniently, but I could not unpack it, and made the best
of it as it was.
On the evening of Wednesday, December 2, I reached the river which I
should have to follow up; it was here nearing the gorge through which it
had to pass before the country opened out again at the back of the front
range. I came upon it quite suddenly on reaching the brink of a great
terrace, the bank of which sloped almost precipitously down towards it,
but was covered with grass. The terrace was some three hundred feet
above the river, and faced another similar one, which was from a mile and
a half to two miles distant. At the bottom of this huge yawning chasm,
rolled the mighty river, and I shuddered at the thought of having to
cross and recross it. For it was angry, muddy, evidently in heavy fresh,
and filled bank and bank for nearly a mile with a flood of seething
waters.
I followed along the northern edge of the terrace, till I reached the
last accommodation house that could be said to be on the plains--which,
by the way, were here some eight or nine hundred feet above sea level.
When I reached this house, I was glad to learn that the river was not
likely to remain high for more than a day or two, and that if what was
called a Southerly Burster came up, as it might be expected to do at any
moment, it would be quite low again before three days were over.
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