246 AFOOT THROUGH THE 



Pindi to be accomplished in two days, decided me at 

 least to enjoy the happiness of a few hours on my back, 

 as an enforced uprightness was likely to be my lot for 

 the best part of the next forty-eight hours. 



A wild thunderstorm burst about midnight, relieving 

 the overburdened atmosphere. It had been intensely 

 hot, and no breathing thing had been able to rest quietly 

 while the tempest was brewing, and through the open 

 windows and doors, set ajar to catch the faintest breath 

 of air, the uneasy movements of my escort sleeping in 

 the open, the stirrings of ponies could be heard, and in 

 my head I felt that nerve chords were being screwed 

 tighter, tighter. Thank Heaven it had come! Round 

 the hills roared and echoed and repeated the thunder. 

 The length and breadth of the Dal was illumined with 

 white flame, the over-powering scent of flowers was 

 diluted by the rain drops from scintillating sheets of 

 liquid crystal. Relieved of one tension, understanding 

 at last why our own life had been so painfully conscious 

 to us, as if aware of our imprisoned spirits as distinct 

 entities, we turned and slept when the fading away of 

 the noiseful thunder permitted it, the coolies and 

 jampanis below rolling up in their blankets, sheltered 

 by the verandah. 



The unearthly white flare of the false dawn was in 

 the sky when I got up an hour or so later, and the stars*, 

 fresh flashed, winked with that pleasant pertness they 

 win from rain clouds. A cup of tea was a grateful 

 opener of sleepy eyes, and with a queasy feeling that I 

 had parted company with all comforts for an indefinite 

 period, I said good-bye, salaaming gravely to the muffled 

 ghosts that arose from dark passages, shady verandahs, 

 outside houses as I passed into the garden. Once more 



