KASHMIR VALLEYS 113 



it was more curious than interesting. When I climbed 

 the terraces to my halting-place the moon was playing 

 Paul Pry among the trees, sending inquiring beams 

 among the dark stems touching the pointed roof of the 

 little temple with gentle hand as in benediction as the 

 fast-vanishing symbol of old-time faith, and casting a 

 silver radiance on the bubbling waters of the spring 

 where I had rested in the morning. 



I found a fine supper spread for me beneath 

 the trees; my men had not forgotten that they 

 had not been quite forgiven for the changing 

 of the camping - ground two days before, and 

 evidently believed in an appeal to my gentler 

 feelings by some tempting dishes easier to prepare, with 

 a variety of fruits and vegetables to draw on, than away 

 in the infertile valley; besides these, a large cake and 

 a huge loaf of sweetened bread adorned my groaning 

 board. Knowing that I possessed neither portable oven 

 nor cake tin, I felt it only wise to observe discretion in 

 my inquiries, feeling sure that the larger resources of 

 my neighbour's camp in the Revel nullah had been 

 requisitioned. However, I was large-minded and 

 hungry enough to allow the offerings to work the 

 desired result, though I knew well that their object 

 would not absolve me from a fine bill for butter, eggs, 

 and the nasty little black currants that my man could 

 not persuade himself to leave unused, though I always 

 carefully picked them out as my offering, according to 

 Hindu custom, for the chance guest, on these occasions 

 generally birds. During the foregoing seven days I had 

 walked on an average about nineteen and a half miles 

 a day, my longest march being twenty-two, which, 

 added to an afternoon stroll of five miles, made a 



