,
blazed up, throwing a weird lurid glow on bank and stream, and
disclosing far on the other bank our weary nags and shivering syces,
looking very bedraggled and forlorn indeed. The leaping and crackling
of the flames, and the genial warmth, invigorated us a little, and
while I stayed behind to feed the fire, the others recrossed to bring
the horses over.

With the previous fright however, their long waiting, the blazing
fire, and being unaccustomed to boats at night, the poor scared horses
refused to enter the boat, The boats are flat-bottomed or broadly
bulging, with a bamboo platform strewn with grass in the centre. As a
rule, they have no protecting rails, and even in the daytime, when the
current is strong and eddies numerous, they are very dangerous for
horses. At all events, the poor brutes would not be led on to the
platform, so there was nothing for it but to swim them across. The
boat was therefore towed a long way up the bank, which on the farther
side was nearly level with the current, but where the hut had stood
was steep and slushy, and perhaps twenty feet high. This was where the
deepest water ran, and where the current was swiftest. If the horses
therefore missed the landing ghat or stage, which was cut sloping into
the bank, there was a danger of their being swept away altogether and
lost. However, we determined on making the attempt. Entering the
water, and holding the horses tightly by the head, with a leading rope
attached, to be paid out in case of necessity; the boat shot out, the
horses pawed the water, entering deeper and deeper, foot by foot, into
the swiftly rushing silent stream. So long as they were in their
depth, and had footing, they were alright, but when they reached the
middle of the river, the current, rushing with frightful velocity,
swept them off their feet, and boat and horses began to go down
stream. The horses, with lips apart showing their teeth firmly set,
the lurid glare of the flame lighting up their straining eyeballs, the
plashing of the water, the dark rapid current flowing noiselessly
past; the rocking heaving boat, the dusky forms of syces, peons, and
boatman, standing out clear in the ruddy fire-light against the utter
blackness of the night, composed a weird picture I can never forget.

The boat shot swiftly past the ghat, and came with a thump against the
bank. It swung round into the stream again, but the boatman had
luckily managed to scramble ashore, and his effo