"Well, I have had one thrilling experience which I don't mind telling you, if my courage will support me through the recital," she said.
Gladys listened with all her ears, for the lady from Southern India had become her best friend on shipboard. She did not want to miss a single word.
"You know that I have been a resident of Southern India for many years," the lady began. "I could tell many dreadful stories of pestilence and disaster in that region, but the most awful experience that I have ever had myself took place in Northern India, in Darjeeling. Of course you all know Darjeeling."
But in spite of her own assurance that they did, the lady did not seem to be able to resist, as no one who loves the Himalayas can, telling again of that city among the clouds, seven thousand feet above the sea, looking directly across the depths to where, when the sun permits, shine forth the snowy peaks of Kinchenjunga. The little city on the sheer mountainside is to the world only another proof of the audacity of man who dares to invade regions so exalted and, in the hope of drenching his lungs, parched by the heat of the Indian plains, with the cool air from the never-melting snows of the mountain peaks, dares to build his summer cottage on the overhanging rock and trust to Providence that it will not tumble headlong into the clouds below or, rained on from the clouds above, be carried down the mountainside and buried in unknown depths by the débris of an ever-possible landslip. Clinging to the edges of the crest of this mountain height or perched upon the very crest itself, the summer homes of the "sahibs" peer out through their enclosures of shrubbery and trees to the snow-capped heights where even their masters dare not venture, but from looking upon which these men gain courage to go down again to the plains to take up their heavy tasks, "the white man's burden."
In her ardour the lady from Southern India described even the ascent of the foot-hills to this resort among the mountains: the wide views appearing first on one side, then on the other, as the little train winds its way up the mountainside, sometimes making complete circles to reach the higher grades and at other times shunting backwards to save a long détour. The tea-gardens on the hillsides, the luxuriance of the vegetation in the wooded glens, the waterfalls, the odd little native villages along the road, descriptions of all these the table company listened to with pleasure, for they deserved attention, coming from the lips of one who was very familiar with the scenes of which she spoke and who loved them. Even Gladys, who was afraid of mountains, because "they look so big and black," wished she might have been there by the time the lady had reached the beginning of her story.
"It was on my first visit to Darjeeling, when I knew nothing of the place or the hill people, that I had the experience I am going to tell you about," the lady continued. "I had often heard before I started on the journey, and again on the way up, and yet again as soon as I reached the city itself, that there was one trip which every visitor must take in order to see the full glory of the Himalayas and to get a peep at Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in the world. As my stay there with an old college friend was to be brief, since Darjeeling is a long way from Madras and vacation days do not last forever, it was to my dismay that I found my hostess too ill to accompany me on any excursion. She could only plan my visit and direct her servants to carry out her plans.
"As clouds and mists are apt to hide the mountains and no one can tell when the 'sublime' heights will be visible, it is wise to take the trip I had heard so much about as soon as possible and to repeat it until one gets a clear view. Therefore I felt that I must take the first opportunity and, although I could find no one to accompany me, I decided that I must go the very next morning after my arrival, even alone. The plan of the trip was this: to leave at 3:30 A. M. and in a dandy, a sort of chair borne by four hillmen, to be carried five miles to Tiger Hill, one thousand feet higher than Darjeeling; to reach there just as the sun should rise and throw its morning splendours upon Mt. Everest. It was decided that I should take an alarm clock to my room and, arising at 3 A. M., be ready in all the heavy clothing I could assemble for my before-sunrise excursion. The dandy and dandywalas were ordered and a light lunch was set ready to serve as my chota hazri.
"It had not occurred to me that it would be a trying excursion as well as an early one until at 3:30 the next morning, lighted by my bedroom lamp as far as the outside door, I opened it and saw in the dimness of the light four figures emerge from the darkness beyond and stand about some object on the ground which I supposed must be the dandy. There was no one to say good-bye to me or give me a last word of counsel or warning. I put out the light, closed the door behind me, and took a few steps in the direction where I thought the dandy was. Then I stopped, for accustomed to speak to the natives in their own tongue, it had not occurred to me until that moment that these hill people spoke a different language from the one I was familiar with and so I could not hope to make them understand a word. I remembered, too, that they were of Mongolian descent, very different from the Indian people whom I knew. What were their characteristics? They might be treacherous and prone to rob for all I knew. But after a moment's hesitation I made up my mind that all these thoughts were foolish, for certainly my friend would not have planned this trip for me if she had not considered it perfectly safe. I saw that I must go on or that I should never hear the last of my cowardice from my co-workers in India who are very fond of a good joke on any of their fellows.
"My eyes had become more accustomed to the darkness while I had been cogitating thus, and so, taking my rugs and my life, as it seemed to me, in my hands, I stepped resolutely towards the dandy which was placed ready for me. I spread out one rug carefully and arranged my pillows upon it for comfort, just as calmly as if I had made the trip often. Then I sat down and pulled the other rug over me. When I appeared to be all ready, the four men, just black shapes in the darkness, with a queer united grunt, took hold of the chair poles, two in front and two behind, and, lifting the dandy to their shoulders, started at a slow pace up the hill behind the house.
"I was pretty high up in the world it seemed to me and as they were carrying me up backwards I had a view before me of all the mountainside that was visible in the starlight, for the stars were very bright overhead, and the street lights of the city twinkled here and there below. I tried to forget that my destination was five miles away and that the paths might lead through lonely solitudes. I tried to concentrate my thoughts upon the scene before me, the city, as it were, beside the sea; for so the clouds looked in the dimness with the lighted streets resembling long piers running out into the cloud sea. Near by an occasional house loomed up darkly in the shadows, and the overhanging trees from the slope above looked like impenetrable forests in the darkness. Far to the left a dim light, I felt sure, marked the spot where a terrible landslip had occurred but shortly before and several English people had lost their lives. I had been anxious to visit the spot since reading an account of the disaster, but somehow in the darkness, even at that distance, although I could not see the place, a sort of horror of it took possession of me and I seemed to see the white faces upturned towards the sky as they were being carried down the mountainside by the relentless torrent of rocks and earth. Just then I heard a noise as of a person moving stealthily along the narrow roadway and I positively shook with fear; but a nearer approach revealed to me that it was only a night watchman aroused by our passing. The gleam of a policeman's badge in these mountain wilds relieved my anxiety for a moment and made me ashamed of my fears.