100 BOMBAY NATURAL HISTORY SOCIETY. 



hands high, but with the heart of a thorough-bred, the most spirited 

 little pony mare I ever rode ! After an hour's hard riding I was 

 evidently gaining on the ulster : his pvgs (I have a good eye for 

 pugs) were beautifully fresh, and at length, on rounding a corner, 

 there was the beloved object just rounding the next corner, not 

 quite a mile ahead ! His pony was clearly dead beat, but he was 

 nipping on gamely, and got to Duskin first. When I got to Duskin 

 I found the reserved pony was not up to racing form, and there was 

 no other, so I booked the Duskin pony for T. The ulster was down 

 in the valley a mile below, wacking the lambardar, who (I heard 

 afterwards) refused to produce a fresh pony. The little pony's 

 owner agreed to let me take her on to Turbyling, a vision of five 

 rupees if I won, illuminating the dim but glorious vista of his future. 

 Off I galloped along a flat stretch of road for four miles, the pony- 

 wallah cutting along after me. From the hill-top I cast a last 

 longing, lingering look behind : no sign of the ulster, so I had now 

 recovered my original start. But there were fifteen miles to be 

 done, the last ten on foot, alone, and in the dark, and I did not feel at 

 all sure of the result. No use trusting to the adversary giving in; 

 he was much too experienced a traveller to let himself be outraced 

 by a mere griffin ; there might be more of his night marching tactics, 

 and I resolved not to stop till I was fairly in my nullah that night. 

 Just beyond Dogni I let the plucky little pony go back. Her 

 owner fell at my feet when I gave him the five rupees ! It was 

 sunset, and I had to traverse the precipitous Ramghat alone and in 

 the dark, until 8 o'clock, when the moon rose. On I plodded, with 

 my blanket over my shoulder, hardly able to walk, parched with 

 thirst, up and down, across shingly slopes, along sheer precipices, 

 a weary way indeed. At times I felt quite done, and lay down on 

 the path to rest my back, and thought of chucking away the blanket, 

 but the rattle of falling stones from the cliffs seemed- to me to be 

 approaching footsteps, and I was up and off again. 



Like one that on a lonely road 

 Doth walk in fear and dread, 



And having once turned round walks on, 

 And turns no more his head ; 



Because he knows an ulstered sakeb 

 Doth close behind hirn tread ? 

 So on I toiled till at last the last ascent was over, and I stood in the 

 " cauld blast " on the summit of the pass, and could see the Ramghat 

 rope bridges, two dark lines far below, crossing the white foaming 



