finding
its mother, who had escaped with the rest of the herd. He was soon
consoled, however, by being allotted to a tame matron, who did not seem
particularly pleased at being thus installed in the office of foster
mother whether she liked it or not.

We now all jogged home in great spirits, and, though Jung professed
himself dissatisfied with only having captured four out of a herd of
twelve, we were perfectly contented with a day's work which my elephant-
shooting experience in Ceylon had never seen equalled, and which so fully
realised the promise made by the minister at starting, that we should be
the first to partake of a sport to be met with only in the noble forests
of his native country.

CHAPTER VI.

_March to Bhimphede--National defences--The Cheesapany pass--Lovely
scenery--Night adventure--The watch-fire--Reception at camp--Arrival at
Katmandu_.

We had looked forward with no little anxiety to the morning following our
elephant-hunt, as we were to go in search of rhinoceros: it was therefore
a severe disappointment to us when Jung entered our tent at daylight, and
informed us that it was necessary we should at once proceed on our way to
Katmandu. The reason he gave us was, that we should have to go too far
out of our route before we could find our game: however that might be,
there was no help for it, and we commenced our march up the valley of the
Rapti, along the narrow rocky path leading to Bhimphede, our next halting-
place. It was a five hours' march, and we crossed the river thirty-two
times before we came in sight of the picturesque Durumsolah, or native
rest-house, which is situated at the head of the valley. Hills clothed
to their summits with variegated jungle rose above us to an immense but
not uniform height, and the scenery looked bolder as we became more
enclosed among the mountains.

Bhimphede is a Newar village, the inhabitants being the aborigines of the
country. It is said to derive its name from a Hindoo divinity named
Bheem having on some occasion happened to stop there. It is distant from
Hetowra about 18 miles, and the road might be much improved by a little
engineering.

The present policy of the Nepaul government is to keep the roads by which
their country is approached in as impassable a state as possible, vainly
imagining that, in case of a war, the badness of the roads would offer an
insuperable obstacle to our progress, and compel us to relinquish any
attemp