From the Mangakowiriwiri, our course lay through an open, undulating country covered with a luxuriant growth of tussock and other native grasses. Here the table-land began to fall perceptibly towards the north-west, and for a long distance it averaged in altitude from 1000 to 1150 feet, and when we reached the valley of the Mangakino River it had fallen to 1000 feet. This was one of our longest journeys, the distance travelled during the day being over forty miles, so that it was moonlight when we arrived at the banks of the river. The Mangakino ran through a deep mountain gorge, and formed one of the many streams issuing from the Titiraupenga Ranges, and flowing into the Waikato. We soon found that the river was much swollen by the recent rains, and that it would be necessary to swim our horses. Four of the natives who had accompanied us from Pouotepiki were still with us, so that altogether we had to get six horses across, but the animals behaved splendidly, and swam through the icy cold water like ducks, the Maori horses showing their bush knowledge by taking the lead. Altogether it was a very dangerous crossing-place to take, especially at night-time, as the river just below the ford fell over a deep precipice with noise like thunder. Once on the opposite bank, we pitched camp for the night, and made a meal out of what we could muster between us. All we could boast of was a little flour, some of which the natives worked up into a dough in a "pannikin," and then rolling it up into long pieces between the palms of their hands, wound the pieces round sticks in a spiral fashion, and baked them in front of the fire. A few potatoes the Maoris had with them were likewise spitted and roasted in this way. The place where we camped was an exceedingly wild-looking spot, and during the night we experienced a severe frost, the thermometer descending to 28°.