f
obtaining plucky, honest, wiry, healthy servants, of whatever caste they
might be, who would be ready for the sake of a good salary and a handsome
reward to brave the many discomforts, hardships, and perils my expedition
was likely to involve. Both at Naini Tal and here scores of servants and
Shikaris (sporting attendants) offered themselves. They one and all
produced "certificates" of good conduct, irreproachable honesty,
good-nature and willingness to work, and praises unbounded of all
possible virtues that a servant could possess. Each certificate was duly
ornamented with the signature of a General, a Captain, a Lieut.-Governor,
or some other considerable personage, but each bearer of such testimonial
seemed sadly neglected by those who had been so enthusiastically pleased
with his services, for he invariably commenced by asking for a loan of
several rupees to purchase boots and blankets, and to enable him to
support a wife with or without a family whom he would be leaving behind.

I decided that my means did not permit of my supporting "the dear ones at
home" of the two or three dozen followers I should require, and I made up
my mind to wait and see whether I could not find men to suit me farther
on my road without involving myself in the liability of supporting the
entire population I left behind me. I made only one exception. I was
sitting one fine day in my room at the Dak Bungalow (post resting-house)
when an odd creature entered and offered his services, salaaming me.

"Where are your certificates?" I asked.

"_Sahib, hum 'certificates' ne hai!_" ("Sir, I have no certificates.")

"Well, then I may employ you."

I had previously had a good look at the fellow. His facial lines showed
considerably more character and force than I had noticed in the features
of other local natives. His attire was peculiar. He wore a white turban,
and from under a short velvet waistcoat there protruded a gaudy flannel
shirt in yellow and black stripes, which he wore oddly outside of his
pyjamas instead of in them. He had no shoes, and carried in his right
hand an old cricket stump, with which he "presented arms," as it were,
every time that I came in and went out of the room. I at once decided to
try him. It was about nine o'clock in the morning, when I, having many
people to see, handed Chanden Sing, for that was his name, a pair of
shoes and some blacking.

"Mind I find them clean when I return."

"_Acha, Sahib_." ("All ri