I04 BEAR SHOOTING 



My next march was to G-urikot, which I reached at 

 8.30; we halted under the shade of leafy walnuts, 

 surrounded by fields of green wheat — a most unusual 

 sight for the traveller from the scorched plains of Hindustan 

 in June. The country about here strongly reminded one 

 of a home farm. It was difficult to tear myself away from 

 this pleasant spot when the coolies came up — especially 

 as I knew that the road ahead was a hot one for several 

 miles. We crossed the river by a bridge, and followed the 

 right bank for a couple of miles, then recrossed by another 

 bridge, and halted under a tree for breakfast. The sun 

 was extremely powerful, and I was forced to seek shelter 

 for a couple of hours. There was a striking contrast 

 between the two streams that join below this road, a short 

 way from the first bridge. The larger, the one that rises 

 in the Biirzil Pass on the Giires route to Kashmir, was 

 pea-soupy in colour, while the other was bright and 

 sparkling. The contrast was very noticeable for some 

 distance below the junction, the bright stream seeming to 

 shrink from its muddy companion as long as possible. 

 At Chhagam I met the gentleman who had occupied the 

 Buldar nala. He obtained two pairs of nice markhor heads 

 with horns of 39 and 37 inches: they were not long, but 

 very broad and massive, and curved gracefully outwards. 



In the morning, at the Idgdh (praying - place), the 

 polo ground of the village, about two miles on this side of 

 Astor, I liad an opportunity of seeing half of that garrison 

 at drill. The sepoys flocked down the path like so many 

 sheep, the men of various regiments mixed up anyhow, 

 and in every variety of uniform and equipment. I could 

 hardly get along for the crowd. Young and old, sick and 

 lame, were all turning out. It seemed necessary for every 

 one to put in an appearance on the parade-ground, if he 

 could crawl so far carrying a musket. I met some 



