240 A Sportswoman in India 



forded the thick, muddy river. We had to ford 

 ourselves many small streams. 



Another narrow, swinging, log bridge was bad 

 crossing. Of course, it had no handrail of any sort, 

 and the great gaps between the loose logs, added 

 to the swinging of the whole frail structure, makes 

 it a matter of wonder to me now that not only 

 our whole party, but the pony also, reached the 

 other side. Those hill tats possess marvellous instinct, 

 creeping over bridges in our footsteps like a cat, 

 apparently able to snuff holes and loose logs, moving 

 very slowly indeed, but without the slightest alarm. 

 October 8th saw us arrived at Gorai rest-house, 

 with only one more march before we should reach 

 once more the Tragbal dak bungalow. 



After our time of camping in the snow, it is hard 

 to picture the absolute luxury which we felt in that 

 Gorai rest-house. True, it was only the roughest 

 dak bungalow, with a couple of bare rooms, bare 

 brick walls, bare boarded floor, bare fireplace, table, 

 and framework for beds. But it seemed Heaven. 

 A fire soon blazed ; and what it was to sit over it 

 to dry our frozen and soaked boots and stockings, 

 etc. ! . . . What it was to have a dry floor to sit 

 upon, and rafters over our heads ! There was no 

 window, and the door had to be kept open to light 

 the room ; but when our transport turned up, we 

 got out a pair of candles and felt almost over- 

 burdened with comfort. Our faces and hands had 

 been badly chapped with cold, and blistered with 



