have been difficult to recognise the shy, timid bushman. The saddle had
given him backbone, and it soon appeared he was right-hand man, and, at
times, even organiser in the difficult task of crossing horses through a
deep, swift-running current.

As the flood was three or four hundred yards wide and many feet deep, a
swim was impossible without help, and every horse was to be supported or
guided, or dragged over in the rear of the boat, with a halter held by a
man in the stern.

It was no child's play. Every inch of the way had its difficulties. The
poor brutes knew the swim was beyond them; and as the boat, pulling
steadily on, dragged them from the shallows into the deeper water, they
plunged and snorted in fear, until they found themselves swimming, and
were obliged to give all their attention to keeping themselves afloat.

Some required little assistance when once off their feet; just a slow,
steady pull from the oars, and a taut enough halter to lean on in the
tight places. But others rolled over like logs when the full force of the
current struck them, threatening to drag the boat under, as it and the
horse raced away down stream with the oarsmen straining their utmost.

It was hard enough work for the oarsmen; but the seat of honour was in
the stern of the boat, and no man filled it better than the transformed
Tam. Alert and full of resource, with one hand on the tiller, he leaned
over the boat, lengthening or shortening rope for the halter, and
regulating the speed of the oarsmen with unerring judgment; giving a
staunch swimmer time and a short rope to lean on, or literally dragging
the faint-hearted across at full speed; careful then only of one thing:
to keep the head above water. Never again would I judge a man by one of