e being no level ground, there is
no polo, no cricket, and no golf. There is no river to fish in, and I do
not think that there is anything at all to shoot. Doubtless, however, it
has its compensations. Probably it abounds in pretty mem-sahibs, who with
bridge and Badminton combine to oil the wheels of life, and make it merry
on the Murree hills.

Leaving the station high on the left, we dipped in a most puzzling manner
down a slope through a fine wood giving magnificent views towards the
hills of our beloved Kashmir, and presently came to "Sunny Bank," whence a
steep road seemed to run sharply hack and up to Murree itself. It was late,
and both we and our unfortunate horses were tired, but a hasty peep into
the little inn showed it to be quite impossible as a lodging, and a biting
wind sent us shivering down the hill as fast as might be to seek rest and
warmth at Tret.

The good greys took us down the eleven miles in a very short time, and we
pulled up at the dak bungalow at 7.30, having been just twelve hours doing
the forty miles from Kohala.

The dak bungalow and all the compound in front was crowded, detachments
_en route_, from Murree to Pindi having halted here for the night. Hesketh
was lucky enough to share a room with a brother Lancer, and a mixed bag of
Gunners and Hussars made up a cheery dinner-table.

The only member of the party showing signs of collapse was the unfortunate
Freddie, who, shaken up in his small cage for three days in an ekka,
seemed in piteous plight, feathers (what there were of them) ruffled and
unkempt, and eyes dim and half closed. Poor dear, it was only sleep he
wanted, for next morning he showed up, as his fond owner remarked, "bright
as a button!"

_12th_.--The road from Tret to Pindi seemed tame to us, but probably
charming to the horses, first down a few gently sloping hills, and then
for the remainder of its six-and-twenty miles it wound its dull and dusty
length along the level.

We halted for our last picnic lunch in a roadside garden full of loquat
trees and big purple hibiscus. The only curious thing here was a pi-dog
which refused to eat cold duck! Certainly it was a _very_ tough duck, but
still, I do not think a pi-dog should he so fastidious.

A few more level dusty miles, and we rattled into Rawal Pindi, where,
after depositing our sick man safely in his own mess precincts, we
proceeded to ensconce ourselves in Flashman's Hotel, which is certainly
far better than