t
made, and very little winter forage seems to be collected. As the snows
fall lower on the hills, the flocks and herds are driven down to the low
ground, where they drag through the dark days as best they can, on
maize-stalks and such like.

I noticed early in May the water buffaloes just turned out to graze in the
Lolab, and more weakly, melancholy collections of skin--and--bone I have
seldom seen.

Now, however, up high in every sunny grassy valley, the Gujars may be
found camping with their flocks--cattle, ponies, buffaloes, and goats,
working upwards hard on the track of the receding snow, where the primula
and the gentian star the spring turf.

A series of grassy uplands brought us close to Lidarwat, when a sharp
shower, arriving unexpectedly from nowhere in particular, sent us to eat
our lunch under the shelter of some fairly waterproof trees in the company
of a herd of water buffaloes of especially evil aspect.

One hoary brute in particular, with enormous horns and pale blue eyes,
made me think of the legend concerning the origin of the buffalo.

When the Almighty was hard at work creating the animals, the devil came
and looked on until he became filled with emulation, and begged the Deity
to let him try his hand at creation. So the Almighty agreed, asking him
what beast he would prefer to make, and he said, "A cow." So he went away
and created a water buffalo, which so disgusted the Creator that the devil
was not permitted to make any more experiments.

As soon as the rain held up and the thunder had rolled off up the valley,
we packed the tiffin basket, had one more drink from an icy spring, and
left the shelter of the friendly trees, followed by the glares of all the
buffaloes, who appear to have a decided antipathy to the "sahib logue."

We soon came to Lidarwat, passing several tents there, pitched by the edge
of a green lawn, and sheltered by a deep belt of trees. Crossing to the
right bank of the river by the usual rickety bridge, we continued our way,
as the farther up the glen we get to-night, the less shall we leave for
to-morrow, when we intend to visit the Kolahoi Glacier.

The cream-coloured courser nearly wrecked my Kashmir holiday at this point,
owing to the silly dislike of white folk which he possesses in common with
the buffaloes. As I was incautiously handing Jane her beloved parasol, he
whisked round and let out at me, and I was only saved from a nasty kick by
my closeness to the bea