ROUGHING IT IN SOUTHERN INDIA 123 



the difficulty was to catch them ; he was too old to run 

 himself ; as soon as it was dark they would roost, then they 

 could be caught easily. We left it to him to solve the 

 problem in his own way, and set to work drying our clothes, 

 bit by bit, as we could spare them. A very cold process 

 we found it, having come up from the hot, steamy low 

 country, travelling upwards on the Western Ghats (hill- 

 ranges) till we had here reached an elevation of some three 

 thousand feet above sea-level, and we naturally felt the 

 difference. Charcoal, glowing red in low three-legged 

 braziers of clay, had been brought in to warm the rooms, 

 and over the braziers frames like enormous hen-coops were 

 set, upon which we spread our clothes — a device not to be 

 equalled for thoroughness and safety. 



Meanwhile the old man busied himself with preparing 

 our dinner, finally smartening himself up in his gold-laced 

 turban and belt and badge of office before serving it. We 

 guessed beforehand that we should do wisely to trust all 

 to him, though we did not expect great things. The result 

 proved we were right, for this was the menu : — 



Moorghi (fowl) in four distinct shapes and tastes. 



Soup, strong and good. 



Rissoles, with mashed sweet potatoes. 



Ditto, boiled, with egg sauce and baked sweet potatoes, 

 and some native cucumber-like green vegetable. 



Two curries ; one a perfectly delicious dry variety, 

 known as ' country-captain,' and the other of hard-boiled 



eggs. 



Nor was any customary accompaniment missing. There 

 were ' Bombay ducks/ a sort of crisply baked salt-fish for 

 crumbling over the curries ; and poppodums, a wafer-like 

 biscuit, also for crumbling over ; and green mint chutney ! 



Then appeared anchovy toast, all piping hot. 



Yet the old man was single-handed, unless, perhaps, 

 sundry scuffiings in the back verandah while we were being 



