at Surahal gave us some trouble, as the flooded
river brought our upper works within a narrow distance of the highest
point of the span, but we finally scraped through with the loss of a
portion of the railing which decorated our upper deck.

The strain of towing was severe, so, when a brisk squall and threatening
thunder-shower overtook us at the mouth of the Sind River, we decided to
tie up there for the night.

This morning we started at four o'clock, but only reached our berth at
Srinagar at two, having spent no less than six hours in forcing the boats
by pole and rope for the last three miles through the town! An incredible
amount of panting, pushing, yelling, and hauling, with frantic invocations
to "Jampaws" and other saints, was required to enable us to crawl inch by
inch against the racing water which met us in the narrow canal below the
Palace.

All's well that ends well, and here we are once more in Srinagar, after a
trip which has been really delightful, albeit the weather latterly has not
been by any means all that could have been desired, and we have slain no
bears![2]

[1] Commonly called the "Jungly-sahib."

[2] Can it be that Bernier was right? "Il ne s'y trouve ni serpens, ni
tigres, ni ours, ni lions, si ce n'est tres rarement."--_Voyage de
Kachemire_.

CHAPTER IX

SRINAGAR AGAIN

We have spent the last three weeks or so quietly in Srinagar, our boats
forming links in the long chain that, during the "season," extends for
miles along both banks of the river. A large contingent of amphibians
dwells in the canal leading to the Dal gates, and the Chenar Bagh, sacred
to the bachelor, shows not a spare inch along its shady length.

Not being either professional globe-trotters or Athenians, we have not
felt obliged to be perpetually in high-strung pursuit of some new thing;
and to the seeker after mild and modest enjoyment there is much to be said
in favour of a sojourn at Srinagar.

Polo, gymkhanas, lawn-tennis, picnics, and golf are everyday occurrences,
followed by a rendezvous at the club, where every one congregates for a
smoke and chat, until the sun goes down behind the poplars, and the swift
shikaras come darting over the stream like water-beetles to carry off the
sahibs to their boats, to dress, dine, and reassemble for "bridge," or
perhaps a dance at Nedou's Hotel, or at that most hospitable hub of
Srinagar, the Residency.

Polo is, naturally, practically restricted to t