he brown cakes made by Ahmad Khan in
a miraculous kitchen of his own invention--a few holes burrowed in the
river bank, a smoldering fire beneath them, and a width of canvas for
a roof. But it served, and no more need be asked of luxury. And Vanna,
making it mysteriously the first home I ever had known, the central
joy of it all. Oh, wonderful days of life that breathe the spirit of
immortality and pass so quickly--surely they must be treasured somewhere
in Eternity that we may look upon their beloved light once more.

"Now you must see the boat. The Kedarnath is not a Dreadnought, but she
is broad and very comfortable. And we have many chaperons. They all
live in the bows, and exist simply to protect the Sahiblog from all
discomfort, and very well they do it. That is Ahmad Khan by the kitchen.
He cooks for us. Salama owns the boat, and steers her and engages the
men to tow us when we move. And when I arrived he aired a little English
and said piously; The Lord help me to give you no trouble, and the Lord
help you! That is his wife sitting on the bank. She speaks little but
Kashmiri, but I know a little of that. Look at the hundred rat-tail
plaits of her hair, lengthened with wool, and see her silver and
turquoise jewelry. She wears much of the family fortune and is quite
a walking bank. Salama, Ahmad Khan and I talk by the hour. Ahmad comes
from Fyzabad. Look at Salama's boy--I call him the Orange Imp. Did you
ever see anything so beautiful?"

I looked in sheer delight, and grasped my camera. Sitting near us was a
lovely little Kashmiri boy of about eight, in a faded orange coat, and
a turban exactly like his father's. His curled black eyelashes were
so long that they made a soft gloom over the upper part of the little
golden face. The perfect bow of the scarlet lips, the long eyes, the shy
smile, suggested an Indian Eros. He sat dipping his feet in the water
with little pigeon-like cries of content.

"He paddles at the bow of our little shikara boat with a paddle exactly
like a water-lily leaf. Do you like our friends? I love them already,
and know all their affairs. And now for the boat."

"One moment--If we are friends on a great adventure, I must call you
Vanna, and you me Stephen."

"Yes, I suppose that is part of it," she said, smiling. "Come, Stephen."

It was like music, but a cold music that chilled me. She should have
hesitated, should have flushed--it was I who trembled. So I followed her
across the br