ief and Bob the Librarian had their holiday first, and
when they were gone I made a calendar, as I always did, and hung it up
at the head of my cot, tearing off one day at a time till they returned.
Vixen had gone up to the Hills with me five times before; and she
appreciated the cold and the damp and the beautiful wood fires there as
much as I did.

"Garm," I said, "we are going back to Stanley at Kasauli.
Kasauli--Stanley; Stanley Kasauli." And I repeated it twenty times.
It was not Kasauli really, but another place. Still I remembered what
Stanley had said in my garden on the last night, and I dared not change
the name. Then Garm began to tremble; then he barked; and then he leaped
up at me, frisking and wagging his tail.

"Not now," I said, holding up my hand. "When I say 'Go,' we'll go,
Garm." I pulled out the little blanket coat and spiked collar that Vixen
always wore up in the Hills to protect her against sudden chills and
thieving leopards, and I let the two smell them and talk it over. What
they said of course I do not know; but it made a new dog of Garm. His
eyes were bright; and he barked joyfully when I spoke to him. He ate his
food, and he killed his rats for the next three weeks, and when he began
to whine I had only to say "Stanley--Kasauli; Kasauli--Stanley," to wake
him up. I wish I had thought of it before.

My chief came back, all brown with living in the open air, and very
angry at finding it so hot in the plains. That same afternoon we three
and Kadir Buksh began to pack for our month's holiday, Vixen rolling in
and out of the bullock-trunk twenty times a minute, and Garm grinning
all over and thumping on the floor with his tail. Vixen knew the routine
of travelling as well as she knew my office-work. She went to the
station, singing songs, on the front seat of the carriage, while Garin
sat with me. She hurried into the railway carriage, saw Kadir Buksh make
up my bed for the night, got her drink of water, and curled up with her
black-patch eye on the tumult of the platform. Garin followed her (the
crowd gave him a lane all to himself) and sat down on the pillows with
his eyes blazing, and his tail a haze behind him.

We came to Umballa in the hot misty dawn, four or five men, who had been
working hard fox eleven months, shouting for our dales--the two-horse
travelling carriages that were to take us up to Kalka at the foot of the
Hills. It was all new to Garm. He did not understand carriages whe