grip of the great hills looking toward the snows, the famous
summer home of the Indian Government. Much diplomacy is whispered
on Observatory Hill and many are the lighter diversions of which Mr.
Kipling and lesser men have written. But Simla is also a gateway to many
things--to the mighty deodar forests that clothe the foot-hills of the
mountains, to Kulu, to the eternal snows, to the old, old bridle way
that leads up to the Shipki Pass and the mysteries of Tibet--and to the
strange things told in this story. So I passed through with scarcely a
glance at the busy gayety of the little streets and the tiny shops
where the pretty ladies buy their rouge and powder. I was attended by
my servant Ali Khan, a Mohammedan from Nagpur, sent up with me by Olesen
with strong recommendation. He was a stout walker, so too am I, and an
inveterate dislike to the man-drawn carriage whenever my own legs would
serve me decided me to walk the sixteen miles to the House in the Woods,
sending on the baggage. Ali Khan despatched it and prepared to follow
me, the fine cool air of the hills giving us a zest.

"Subhan Alla! (Praise be to God!) the air is sweet!" he said, stepping
out behind me. "What time does the Sahib look to reach the House?"

"About five or six. Now, Ali Khan, strike out of the road. You know the
way."

So we struck up into the glorious pine woods, mountains all about us.
Here and there as we climbed higher was a little bank of forgotten
snow, but spring had triumphed and everywhere was the waving grace of
maiden-hair ferns, banks of violets and strangely beautiful little wild
flowers. These woods are full of panthers, but in day time the only
precaution necessary is to take no dog,--a dainty they cannot resist.
The air was exquisite with the sun-warm scent of pines, and here and
there the trees broke away disclosing mighty ranges of hills covered
with rich blue shadows like the bloom on a plum,--the clouds chasing the
sunshine over the mountain sides and the dark green velvet of the robe
of pines. I looked across ravines that did not seem gigantic and yet the
villages on the other side were like a handful of peas, so tremendous
was the scale. I stood now and then to see the rhododendrons, forest
trees here with great trunks and massive boughs glowing with blood-red
blossom, and time went by and I took no count of it, so glorious was the
climb.

It must have been hours later when it struck me that the sun was getting
low