Fourteen Thousand Feet High 205 



speculating upon what may be at the bottom, below 

 that unreadable surface as to whether, indeed, there 

 is any bottom ? 



Being by this time quite hardened, I never began 

 by assuming that a native was speaking the truth. 

 It is a weary platitude to say that there are exceptions ; 

 but I well remember my ayah, the best servant I had, 

 and whom I considered irreproachable, having a large 

 extra box put upon one of our tongas above and 

 beyond her allowance of luggage, and when an aide-de- 

 camp told her it must come up afterwards in a bullock- 

 cart, he informed me that she promptly replied, " Oh ! 

 it must go some of the Miss Sahib's things in it." 

 I need hardly say I was not in the habit of allowing 

 my things to be packed in a native's box. 



Our camp outfit soon began to suffer in the hands 

 of the coolies again ; things ought to be made of 

 cast-iron to survive. Our teapot lid was wrenched 

 off at the hinges, our galvanised iron bath had three 

 holes knocked in it, our table was broken, our camp- 

 stool smashed, etc. But we had an excellent servant 

 in Cooky, and as we had provided only the bare 

 necessaries of cooking, we had no right to grumble 

 at his primitive methods. 



I did not, however, appreciate seeing him get out 

 brown sugar for our tea from a paper packet in his 

 fingers, and then pat it down into an old cigarette 

 box our sugar-basin. I inadvertently saw the milk- 

 jug being cleaned one day merely a dirty rag stuck 

 on to a stick and thrust into the jug. Our com- 



