MARKHOR AND SHARPU SHOOTING 163 



time the Bara Maharajah Sahib kept his glasses 

 levelled at us, in total ignorance of the meaning of 

 this extraordinary spectacle. We could see him more 

 clearly now. He wore a navy-blue flannel shirt, with 

 a handkerchief tied about his neck, a slouch hat, 

 and a three-weeks* beard a combination thor- 

 oughly appropriate to the surroundings, even for a 

 Bara Maharajah Sahib. 



At last the level was reached. Perry and I dis- 

 mounted, deferentially approached the camp-ground 

 on foot, and humbly salaamed before the royal pre- 

 sence, though we wanted badly enough to run up 

 and wring his dear old hand off. Wheeler, preserving 

 an ominous silence, replied to the Rajah's deep and 

 respectful salute with what was probably the most 

 frigid and soulless bow I have ever witnessed. We 

 seated the Rajah and the Bara Maharajah Sahib 

 on two soap-boxes facing one another, summoned 

 a Hindustanee-Balti interpreter, and prompted our 

 friend to make remarks appropriate to the occasion. 



The conversation was somewhat stilted, the only 

 important sentiment expressed being that the Ra- 

 jah was pleased to see his distinguished visitor in 

 his, the Rajah's, country, while the Bara Maharajah 

 Sahib was veiy pleased to be there, Wheeler punc- 

 tuating his remarks with surprisingly irrelevant 

 and irreverent asides, in which the words " height 



