A DAK BUNGALOW 15 



Bravo ! What a splendid menu ! I'm particu- 

 larly looking forward to the pops, which are very 

 old acquaintances. In every bungalow, in every 

 Indian station restaurant, they form the finishing 

 touch to each luxurious meal. Always the same, 

 except that the colour of the jams differs from time 

 to time. 



But I must not be ungrateful. In ten minutes 

 the soup, the curry, the rice, the mutton, the 

 chicken, the potatoes, the cabbage, and the pops 

 were all steaming on the table. 



Frank Garrett, the other guest, Superintendent of 

 Locomotives on the Rajputana-Malwa line from 

 Ajmere, was my companion at dinner, and we both 

 enjoyed it very much. 



Our conversation circled, like the earth, round the 

 sun. " Will it shine again to-morrow ? Will the 

 rain leave off and the road be free from impedi- 

 ments ? " 



The pops were still lying heavy in our insides 

 when the stars began to twinkle, and the next 

 morning we were awakened by the cheerful news 

 that the landslips had been removed. 



One rupee, eight annas, was the amount of my bill, 

 and with a good conscience and perfectly abominable 

 pen, I wrote in the margin for special remarks : 

 Excellently looked after ! " 



