126 



A MOENING WITH THE MEHTAR'S 

 FALCONS. 



MORNING had broken, but the climbing sun was 

 still hidden from the dwellers in the towers and 

 hamlets of Chitral by the great mountain masses 

 to the east when our party rode out of the 

 British Agency gates and down the steep path 

 leading to the bazar. There had been a hard 

 frost in the night, and the air was keen and 

 dry, making the snow-capped mountains stand 

 out hard and sparkling. Crossing the wooden 

 bridge over the stream which issues from the 

 Chitral gorge, we noticed that it was half covered 

 over with ice. As we clattered into the bazar, 

 through which our road lay, people were just 

 awaking to the day's work. A Bajauri trader 

 was watching his pony-drivers throw the morn- 

 ing feed of chaff before the line of muffled-up 

 animals which were to carry his goods north to 

 far Badakshan as soon as the snows on the passes 

 were sufficiently melted. A group of fur-clad 



