82 THE FORESTS OF UPPER INDIA 



he shoots away. His skin having become an article of 

 commerce for ladies' hats, he will doubtless disappear 

 from his native hills. 



The next march was a trying one, for, having got up at 

 4 a.m. to have a final hunt for thar in the precipices, which 

 produced nothing but one gooral, we struck camp after a 

 hurried breakfast and started downhill, intending to 

 cross the valley and then encamp at the foot of a high 

 pass which leads to the valley of the Kali river, where 

 Mr. Drummond waited for us. The descent was hot, 

 down a roughish khud into the bed of the stream, which 

 was nearly dry and all rough shingle, 5,000 feet in 

 three hours. Then began the ascent up the dry bed 

 of another stream (the Taijam Gar), and following that 

 for three hours we kept steadily on, expecting to find 

 water and camp for the night. Alas ! there was no water, 

 and not even any snow to melt ; so we clambered on and 

 on, always over rocks, under the shade of enormous 

 sycamores and horse-chestnut trees, a perfectly primeval 

 forest. There was no path but the shingly stream-bed ; 

 and if we tried to force our way through the jungle, it 

 was a hopeless tangle. The coolies, with baggage and 

 tent, though excellent carriers, were left far behind. 

 Still we climbed upwards, hoping to reach the summit 

 of the pass (called the Nari Danda) before nightfall. 

 Tramping since 4 a.m. was not a good preparation for 

 this climb ; knees and shins began to feel a strange stiff- 

 ness as if the joint-oil was exhausted ; sitting down was 

 fatal, as the knees seemed to stiffen up at once. The 

 rays of the setting sun were on our backs all the afternoon, 

 for we were going eastward, and a June sun is not kind. 

 Water there was none, not even a trickle from a friendly 

 rock. The top of the pass surely must soon be reached, 

 the steepness increasing ; at last it seemed to come into 



