ound, and the air is drier and pleasant.

In early morning we drove in the pony cart half the way from Momouk to
this Kalychet, the sowars riding behind with the four ponies. The road
lay through green aisles of bamboo that met overhead, and it was cold
and wet under them for some hours.

At mid-day we stopped and the syce went back with the pony cart, and I
unpacked some fishing tackle to have a try for Mahseer on a river some
distance beyond our halting place. I selected a rod from the million of
bamboos round us, one of decent growth, not the longest, they ran to
ninty feet at a guess, and fastened snake rings on with adhesive plaster
from our medical stores, the stuff you get in rolls, an adaptation of a
valuable tip from _The Field_;[35] the tip was for mending rods, but it
does as well, or better, for putting on temporary rings.

[35] An improvement on the splendid tip is to use the gummy tape used
for insulating electric wire.

It was a grand river, what I'd call a small salmon river, tumbling into
pools over great water-worn boulders, with a tangle of reeds and bamboos
above flood mark. It was piping hot fishing, and the water seemed rather
clear for the phantom I tried. I had two on for a second, and had a
number of touches from small Mahseer that I saw following the minnow,
but failed to land anything, so alas!--I can't swear I've caught a
Mahseer yet or killed a jungle fowl--my two small ambitions just now. G.
collected seeds and roots of wild plants to send home, so she had a
better bag than I had. We rode back to our halting place to lunch--or
tiffen, or whatever it's called in these parts--a sort of solid
breakfast at one o'clock,--on the side of the pony track; the Chinese
pack-ponies wandered round eating bamboo leaves and tough looking reeds.
Along the road we passed many groups of Kachins, all with swords and
mild wondering eyes. This halt was rather a business I thought,--all the
packages unladened, pots and pans and fires, and a complicated lunch. I
incline to our home fashion when living out of doors, of a crust and a
drink at mid-day and a square meal after the day's outing.

As we were getting our cavalcade started, along came Captain Kirke and
Carter in shirt-sleeves, riding back hard to Headquarters. They are hard
as nails but looked just the least thing tired, having ridden a great
distance since yesterday on an inspecting tour from some hill village.
They hoped to get to Bhamo by night _if