32 KASHMIR 



shikaris were Punjabis. They are real men. With 

 their sticks they made little nicks on the mountain- 

 side for their toes and fingers, and at last it did 

 seem ages they reached me, and slowly and very 

 carefully we all got up to the top, over the ledge, 

 and on to the path. At the moment I did not 

 feel even shaken. Ames and Chaplin of the Indian 

 Cavalry were out with me and looked green. They 

 said it was most trying to see me go over, slide 

 away, and then hold on to a little grass, and to be 

 unable to help me. It really was worse for them 

 than for me. What I disliked most was having 

 to walk up the mountain for two hours in a broil- 

 ing sun to show them that I was really unhurt. 

 To satisfy them as to my nerves I made a gallery 

 shot at a musk deer and rolled him over. 



We had 800 beaters and a huge drive, and all 

 I saw was an inch of a stag's neck. I fired and 

 hit it. He bled, but was in my opinion not badly 

 wounded, and I may lose him. 



I had to crawl down the mountain, ride ten 

 miles on the flat, and motor twenty-five miles home. 

 I got to the Residency at 10.30, and there found the 

 Maharajah waiting for me in a terrible state. He 

 had made up his mind that I had been killed. I 

 was much touched by his quite obviously genuine 

 distress. 



I found also a telegram calling me at once to 

 Simla, and I had to start for Rawalpindi at 6 a.m. 



I had a hopeless Eurasian driver who ran into 

 a cow and nearly sent us down into the river, but 

 I caught the train and repeated my journey be- 

 tween Rawalpindi and Simla. I seem to have 

 done a good deal in a very short time. 



