ON THE EDGE OF A PRECIPICE. 1 9 



and followed a picturesque road cut out of the side of the 

 hill, and in places passing through short tunnels running- 

 through the projecting cliffs. At five o'clock we reach Dulai 

 where we meant to stay the night, but find the bungalow 

 has a leaky roof and is flooded with rain, so we push on to 

 Domel. From this point I began to hate the Maharaja. He 

 is now on the road dow T n from Kashmir to his winter abode, 

 and all the best bungalows, horses, drivers, &c, are reserved 

 for him. 



Besides this, everybody is on the way back, as leave is 

 up on the 15th, for the Indian army ; so the poor little stage 

 horses are worked to death, many of them going their stage 

 uphill, on dreadful roads, five or six times a day. This is 

 the only excuse for their being such confirmed jibbers. For 

 a great part of the way the syce (groom) has to run in 

 front, pulling them along by a rope tied round the foreleg. 

 Frequently this was the only means of starting or getting 

 them along at all. They told us this was a strange stage to 

 our pair, and not the one they were used to, hence they 

 resented it with peculiar bitterness. 



At the next stage we had more vigorous horses, too 



much so in fact, at first. They reared straight on end 



directly their heads were let go, danced along the edge of 



the precipice on their hind legs, and, failing to break the 



pole by several violent bucks and bounds, started at a 



furious gallop down the hill. The next ascent, however, 



C 2 



