he dawn here--the crisp, buoyant
air, the silent hills, their lower slopes and corries still a purple
mystery; on high, the silver peaks--looking ridiculously close--change
swiftly from their cold pallor into rosy life at the first touch of the
risen sun.

The first part of our day's work was easy enough. The sun was still hidden
from us behind the mountain flange on our left; the snow patches on the
sky-line ahead seemed comparatively near, and the diabolical swiftness of
the shikari's stealthy walk was yet to be fully realised.

Up and up we went, first through a thick scrub or jungle of a highly
prickly description, over a few small streams, then out upon a grassy
ridge, up which we slowly panted. The gradient became sharper, and I began
to feel a little anxious about Jane, as the short, brown grass was
slippery with frost--a slip would be very easy, and the results unpleasant.
However, with the able assistance of the shikari, she did very well, and,
having crossed a shelving patch of snow by cutting steps with our
khudstick, we found ourselves, after an hour and a half's stiff climbing,
on the sky-line of the ridge that had seemed but an easy stroll from below.
The heights and distances are most deceptive, partly on account of the
crystal clearness of the air, and partly because of the magnitude of
everything in proportion. The mountains are not only high themselves, but
their spurs and foothills would rank as able-bodied mountains were they
not dwarfed by peaks which average 15,000 feet in height above the sea.
The pines which clothe their sides, the chenars and poplars in the valley,
are all enormous when compared with their European cousins.

The view was most remarkable as we gained the crest of the ridge--a sea of
white cloud came boiling up from the valley to the east, and, pouring over
the saddle upon which we stood, gave only occasional glimpses of snow and
pine and precipice above, or the glint of water in the rice-fields far
below. Once, between the swirling cloud masses, the near hills lay clear
in the sunshine for a few moments and revealed a party of five bara singh
hinds, crossing the slope in front of us, and not more than 150 yards away.
Alas! there was no stag.

This was not satisfactory weather for stalking. However I was hopeful, as
I have noticed that in the fine forenoons a thick white belt of cloud
often forms about the snow level--roughly, some 8000 feet above the sea,
or 3000 above the Wul