In Gurwal 



the outline of the large boulders, while the snow- 

 peak above the head of the ravine is already show- 

 ing signs of pink, and the dark blue background 

 is getting lighter. Below me is a billowy mass 

 of white fog which I know, from sad experience, 

 may be expected as soon as the sun gets a little 

 power to rise and envelop us, blotting out every- 

 thing. The singing of many waters is in my ears, 

 as every gulley holds a tempestuous little series 

 of waterfalls, and the roar of the snow-fed torrent 

 comes up through the mist below. 



My shikara is squatting on his " hunkas" by 

 almost on the wood fire that produced my tea, 

 opposite him the " personal attendant/* both 

 wrapped head and all in blankets, with only their 

 faces peeping out, busy stirring weird concoctions 

 in a pot. Two privileged coolies complete the 

 party, wound about in horrible garments of great 

 antiquity. One of them is smoking, holding a 

 thar's horn between his hands, and pulling in- 

 dustriously at a hole bored at the point thereof. 

 The personal attendant coughs ostentatiously 

 from time to time as a protest against being 

 brought up here away from his warm plains, his 

 bazaar, and his family ; and I can't help feeling a 

 touch of compunction, though he volunteered for 

 it, being led thereto by the offer of an increase of 

 pay, which places him, temporarily, on a level 

 with his "boss " my fat old bearer in the plains 



53 



