high point the foaming
stream can be seen for miles, winding between thickly wooded hills and
mountains like a silver ribbon on a dark reposeful background.

The march from my last camp was a very short one, so I had the greater
part of the day left for work. Previously I had usually halted in
Daramsallas (stone-walled shelters), and in default of these my men put
up for me a neatly-made "Chahna"[5] or "choepper," a hut of mats and
branches of trees, in the construction of which the Paharis are
wonderfully dexterous. I had also my small "mountain tent," a _tente
d'abri_, quite comfortable enough for ordinary requirements.

[Illustration: THE TENT]

It seems, however, that this style of travelling is not considered _comme
il faut_ by the officials of India. It is the number and size of one's
tents, according to these authorities, that make one a greater or a
smaller gentleman! I had put up my tent--three feet high, seven feet
long, and four feet wide--by the side of the two double-leaf eighty pound
tents of the Deputy Commissioner, but this official and his companions
were far from pleased with this act of familiarity. For a double-tented
sahib to be seen in company of another sahib whose bijou tent rose from
the ground hardly up to one's waist, was _infra dig_ and a serious threat
to the prestige of the British in India. I was therefore politely
requested to move from my cosy quarters to a more dignified abode lent
me by the one-eyed Lal Sing, a Tokudar[6] and brother of the Patwari.[7]

Being thus promoted in everybody's estimation except my own, I wrote and
copied out my first article for _The Daily Mail_, and, having done this,
I dined and spent a pleasant evening with Mr. G.

The night was stormy; the wind shook my tent. I went to sleep wrapped in
my solitary camel-hair blanket. Some hours later a sharp knock on my head
woke me. It was the centre pole of the tent that had moved out of its
sockets and had fallen on me. This was followed by a rushing noise of
canvas, and I found myself in a moment uncovered and gazing at the stars.

There were white things flying about in the air, and, to my horror, I
discovered the leaves of my _Daily Mail_ article scattered in the wind.

I jumped up, but of the ten or twelve foolscap leaves on very thin paper,
I only managed to recover two or three. The others soared gracefully to
and fro in the air, and I suppose settled eventually in the Kali. This
meant recopying the artic