A BOOK OF FISHING STORIES 



to be moved there, for this was the very spot that I had heard 

 of some years earlier from a retired brother officer who had 

 himself enjoyed good sport in the neighbouring waters. Here 

 it was that Muchee Bawan might be reached, the very name 

 of which, in the vernacular, signifies home of fish. The best 

 of news awaited me on arrival at our station, for it seemed 

 that the fishing had been utterly overlooked for years, so that 

 those of us who fished had all the satisfaction of rediscovering 

 this once famous ground. It further transpired that, although 

 only thirty miles distant, the road was so troublesome as to 

 be considered next to impossible ; but every fisherman will 

 appreciate our satisfaction on learning of this difficulty of 

 approach. From our own bungalow we could plainly see the 

 Pir Punjal mountains, an outlying range of the Himalaya, 

 from which the Tawi River flowed to join the Chenab twelve 

 miles from Sialkot, and Muchee Bawan, the desired, lay some- 

 where hidden in the misty valley below. Our patience was 

 sorely tried while the cold weather and drill season ran their 

 course, after which, in April, the thermometer steadily rose 

 to punkah heat, and then came the longed-for time for leave. 

 We had arranged to ride as far as possible, camp and baggage 

 being sent forward on camels, which, of course, furnished the 

 usual diversions, one flatly refusing to enter the ferry-boat, 

 and another as obstinately declining to leave it. At long last, 

 however, we pushed on to our journey's end, studiously 

 neglecting a number of attractive pools that we might the 

 sooner make our goal, nothing short of Muchee Bawan itself, 

 unfished these ten years, but previous to that period recog- 



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