SPORT AND TRAVEL IN HIMALAYAS 211 



200 feet below my feet. I am writing this in a little 

 bungalow, or rather hut, made of rough-hewn pine planks. 



Both N and myself are very fit, but walking ten 



miles — such walking, too — knocks one up for the rest of 

 the day. On pilgrims' track, which we are still following, 

 there is practically nothing to shoot. 



On Monday we walked to our camp at Manero. On 

 the way the shikari sprained one of his great toes, which 

 placed him hors de combat. Soon after getting our tent 

 up we were visited by a thunderstorm of high order and 

 sheets of heavy rain, which lasted some four hours. On 

 Tuesday marched to Butwari, where there is another 

 cowshed of a bungalow. On the way thither I shot a 

 pigeon, which fell over a precipice into the river. As 

 usual, a storm came up in the afternoon. It raged furi- 

 ously half the night. On Wednesday walked into Dangel 

 (eleven miles), meeting the Maharajah of Kathiawar 

 returning from his pilgrimage. On the way I shot a 

 black partridge and a pigeon, which were useful, as the 

 larder was bare of fresh meat. In the evening both 



N and self had shots at a couple of running gurral, 



but missed. 



Yesterday (Thursday) tramped into Ithala, where there 

 is another bungalow of the cowshed style of architecture. 

 It was a terrible climb, and just as we were within two 

 miles of Ithala the rain came down in torrents, and it was 



bitterly cold. Both N and myself were soaked to 



the skin, and being in our hot-weather clothes, we sat 

 shivering over a smoky fire until the coolies came in 

 with the paraphernalia a couple of hours later, when 

 we were able to get into winter clothing. Yesterday's 

 storm was a quiet one \i. e., unaccompanied by thunder 



