KASHMIR VALLEYS 183 



remaining among the things unseen. As iced hock and 

 peaches were not to be procured, the Memsahib made 

 shift with stewed tea and bath Olivers, and as a sun head 

 was anxious to claim her, turned into an invitingly 

 shady room, where flies tormented and mosquitoes 

 devoured, and spent the rest of the day in that condition 

 of super-self-realisation, induced by having all the most 

 sensitive portions marked out for the sport of a variety 

 of pain devils. 



My belongings arrived towards dusk, and it was 

 impossible to blame them for having rested during the 

 heat of the day while I was stupidly pushing on, and for 

 arriving fresh and cool, especially when it was pointed 

 out in sympathetic tones that the immediate cause of 

 the first lagging had been the belief that the Memsahib 

 was still behind and might require assistance. 



I had become used to a cheerful statement of what 

 should be rather than what was, and so ought not to 

 have been led away when my men promised many 

 ponies, quantities of the best riding ponies for me to 

 choose from on the morrow. Dawn flushed the sky with 

 a flood of rosy light, and the dawn was transformed to 

 broadest daylight, but neither ponies nor owners of 

 ponies were to be seen. My men continued to chatter 

 cheerfully of "what was to be," but, as there seemed 

 no reason to consider a miraculous intervention on my 

 behalf likely, I decided to consider the riding pony one 

 of those charming " might have beens," and make use of 

 that which I had, namely, two walking legs. I could 

 not, without hard-heartedness, make use of the riding 

 pony brought from Srinagar, for the aged cook had 

 developed fever and rheumatism from the bare thought 

 of camping, and it had been given up to him. 



I was not good to talk to that morning, and my 



