fort rose on the near edge of the little plain.
The Jhelum tore through a rocky gorge far below, and a dark semi-circle of
mountains stood steeply up, their cloud-hidden summits giving fleeting
glimpses of snow and precipice and pine-clad corries as the sun now and
again shot through the clinging vapours.

The dak bungalow of Uri, white and clean, was most attractive, and I
should imagine the place to be charming in summer, but as yet the short
crisp turf is still brown from recent snow, and although hot in the sun,
which now began to shine steadily, it was extremely cold in the shade,
while lunch (or should I say "tiffin"?) was being got ready. I strolled
over to the post-office to find--as usual--another urgent wire from
Smithson several days old, beseeching me to secure my pass for Astor at
once. Directly after lunch we set forward, and as the road on leaving Uri
takes a long bend of some miles to the right to a point where the Haji Pir
River is crossed, and then sweeps back along its right hank to a spot
almost opposite the dak bungalow, we thought that a short cut down to the
water, which from our height seemed quite insignificant, and thence up to
the road on the other side, would be a desirable stroll. As we walked down
the steep path into the nullah a brace of red-legged partridges (chikor)
rose in a great fuss, and sailed gaily across the river, whose roaring
gained ominously in volume as we drew near. It soon became plain to us
that everything is on a very big scale in this country, and that the
clearness of the atmosphere helps to delude the unwary stranger. The
little stream that seemed to require but an occasional stepping-stone to
enable us to pass over dry-shod, proved in the first place to be much
farther off than we had supposed, and when, after a hot scramble, we found
ourselves on the bank, the stepping-stones were no more, but only here and
there we saw the shoulders of huge rocks which doggedly threw aside the
flying foam of a fair-sized river. It was obviously impossible to cross
except by deep wading, but, being unwilling to own defeat, I yelled to a
brown native on the far bank, and made signs that he should come and do
beast of burthen. He, however, stolidly shook his head, pointed to the
water, and then to his chest, and finally we sadly and wrathfully toiled
back to the road we had so lightly left, and expended all our energies on
attracting the notice of the carriage, which, having crossed the