eight o'clock
Louis had tramped before in the cooler New Zealand summer ; Marcella had walked miles on Lashnagar . But this walking through the dry , sun-scorched scrub , on which their feet slipped and slid was an experience quite unique . The heat rose from the ground to meet that blazing down from the sky of Prussian blue . At eight o'clock they were both tired , but Marcella , who plodded on , calm and unworried , was not nearly so tired as Louis who made himself hot and dissipated much energy in wondering when they would get there -- wherever `` there '' might be . He had started the day whistling and gay ; by ten o'clock he was in the depths of despair and took Marcella 's attempts to chaff him as insults and injuries . As soon as they reached a patch of stunted bushes she decreed a halt and a rest . They filled the billy from their water-bottles and , making a fire with the scorched scrub , had it boiling in a few moments .