30 AFOOT THROUGH THE 



Tragbal with comfort, for snow had fallen lately, and 

 was still lying at nine thousand feet, but as I have great 

 belief in the theory of finding out for one's self, I decided 

 on making a start, even if it proved impossible to carry 

 the scheme through. It seemed best to make the 

 ascent to the first rest-house early, and if things looked 

 unpromising, to return on foot the same day, taking a 

 coolie that he might take my orders in case I decided 

 to go on. Soon after six one morning I was ready to 

 begin my tramp. I had discarded shoes in favour of 

 " chaplis," the pretty, embroidered leather sandal of the 

 country, with which is usually worn a soft leather sock. 

 I had also a puttoo coat and skirt, knitted gloves of 

 pashmina wool, cap of the same in my pocket ready 

 for the moment when the heavy sun hat could be dis- 

 carded. A warm chuddah (shawl) and small tea basket 

 and flower press were carried by my coolie, a brawny 

 individual in cap, tunic, and knickerbockers of grey 

 puttoo, with bare legs and grass sandals. The first part 

 of the road was fairly level, past the village, which 

 boasted a wonderfully good bazaar, under great chenaar 

 trees, where stood a tiny Mahomedan fane covered with 

 a glory of crown imperial lilies, on to the bridge of 

 Sonarwain, which crosses the stream here divided into 

 three branches and on through the pretty village of 

 Kralpura, almost hidden among fruit trees and mam- 

 moth rose and jessamine bushes. From one of the best 

 houses emerged my old friend. He salaamed 

 vigorously. " And where is the Huzur going to-day ? " 

 he asked. "To the Tragbal and back," I shouted. 

 Never was joke so appreciated. The quondam Sepoy- 

 he had been in the army, I had made out doubled up as 

 he shouted to his son to look at the lady who was 



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