It was our idea to see the sights of Lucknow in two days and return to Cawnpore on the evening of the second, but our plans were changed, as Messrs. Thoburn, Robinson and Mansell, of the American Methodist Mission, called upon us at the hotel and transferred us, bag and baggage, to the Mission as their guests. Under their guidance we remained in Lucknow a week. Having returned to Cawnpore, we resumed our journey on June 11, making rapid progress, principally during the nights. Ever since entering China, more than a year before, we had seen daily countless numbers of the hairless, black, water buffalo. Many Europeans fear them and consider them dangerous, but they treated us with deference until Sunday, June 20, when we encountered a herd of the fierce-looking, cumbersome beasts while pedaling our way to Delhi. I do not believe the buffalos had any premeditated intention of attacking us, but as we wheeled slowly through a drove, a calf became imbued with the idea that bicycles were dangerous. He bolted straight down the road in front of us, running like a winner for a quarter of a mile. Then he was attracted by some tempting green leaves, and halted to browse upon them. As soon as we passed him, the machines which had frightened him became an attraction, and he meekly trotted out and fell in line behind us. The mother, who had been lumbering along in the rear, became excited at the unusual conduct of her son, gave a few short snorts, and set out in pursuit. Immediately the entire drove joined in the novel race, and, with a thundering clatter of hard hoofs ringing in our ears, we realized that we were being pursued. Faster and faster we spun along, and as native pilgrims heard the uproar, they gave one glance at the avalanche of bicycle and buffalo sweeping down upon them and scattered to the right and left. We tried, by shouting and waving helmets at the calf, to drive him away, but in vain, and the affair, which had been amusing at first, settled down into a race for life. It is impossible, as readers know, to take to a tree when on a cycle, so there was nothing else to do but set a pace for a crazy calf and a drove of jealous buffalo, and for the next mile and a half we did so. How the calf came to change his mind about joining his fortune with ours I do not know, but a sudden cessation of the clatter behind us revealed on sight the calf recumbent in a pool of water, with his sympathizing friends and relatives standing by, grimly looking after us. This was the outcome of the buffalos' end of the race; ours was garments soaked with perspiration, panting breath, and ourselves so heated and flushed we were dizzy and faint.

The Queen’s Jubilee, celebrated the day following our arrival in Delhi, gave us opportunity to enjoy an illumination scene in India, and, though we observed many well-lighted European and government employes' houses, I should not say that the Indian is as much a lover of British rule as the British would have others believe. The usual parade of soldiery and police was the first feature of the evening, and fireworks the final. I thoroughly enjoyed the astonishment caused by the presence of a large American flag, flying from a staff lashed to the life-sized stone elephant which stands in the yard of the government building, and was much amused at the inscriptions on the red cloth banners which the natives hung over their doorways. They read, “Welcome to India;” “Welcome to Delhi,” and a rather suggestive few read, “God bless the Prince.” It was a few moments before it dawned on me that the inscriptions were originally made to please the eye of the Prince of Wales, when that great functionary of corner-stone laying and baby christening was doing a little globe-trotting at the English public’s expense. Who did it, and why that American flag, in all its starry beauty, was flying in front of a government building, were the principal questions asked by army and police officers the next day. Delhi, as a city, was founded during the shadowy ages, which precludes the possibility of dates, but its ruins are visible to-day on an area ten miles wide and fifteen miles long. How often the city has changed its site is only limited to the victories gained by invaders of all tribes and nations. The Rome of Asia, Delhi has known its Nero; Maharrata, Hindoo, Jain, Persian, Afghan, Mohammedan, and the cold, unfeeling Britain, have in turn ruled over the Indian Empire from this ancient city, and the truth has ever been proven that whosoever held Delhi ruled India. Delhi, like many other Indian cities, offers the visitor many interesting buildings of native structure, but so often have we viewed with reverence and awe some superb building, only to learn that it was a tomb for some notable departed, that the word “tomb” has become abhorrent. India will linger in our memory chiefly as one vast group of mausoleums, set in an arid desert and scorched by the fires of a sun fierce as the furnaces of Sheol.

The exposure to heat, from which the Inter Ocean cyclists were suffering daily, led to Mrs. McIlrath’s serious condition, which prevented our departure from Delhi on June 24, the day upon which we had made our arrangements to leave. With face swollen so that her eyes were half-closed, her skin was entirely covered with tiny pimples. Small-pox would not have presented a more pitiable sight, but experts pronounced the case prickly heat, and beyond advising perfect rest, cool drinks and hot baths, declared that nothing could be done to drive away or reduce the swelling. Under these conditions we were unable to proceed until July 1, but with the delightful attentions shown us by Mr. and Mrs. Aitkin of the Delhi Morning Post, and Major Mainwaring, of the Native Infantry, time did not hang heavily upon our hands. We swung into the main road at 6 o’clock one morning, taking the Grand Trunk once more, and following its course due north. Karnaul, the city which we should have reached the night before, had it not been for the stiff head winds, we entered at 8 o’clock the following morning, just in time to escape a downfall of rain which detained us until the next day. A second reminder of the plucky little Lenz we found in the register book of the Karnaul dak bungalow, which read, “F. G. Lenze, October 10, 1893, arrived six p. m. Departed six a. m., October 12, American Bicyclist.” Strange as it may seem, this was only the second instance in which we found trace of Lenz, though in China, Burmah and India we traveled in all over four thousand miles on identically the same route.

CHAPTER XIX.

PATRIOTISM CURBED JUST IN TIME—BAD NIGHT WITH A FANCIED BITE FROM A COBRA—TWO AMERICAN INVALIDS TOGETHER IN LAHORE.

From Karnaul we journeyed steadily north, head-winds baffling attempts at speed, and showers and sand storms retarding us for hours. In several instances, we were compelled to journey along the railway line, the rains having swollen the river to such an extent that the roads were flooded. Umballa, a large military station midway between Delhi and Lahore, we reached on the morning of July 3, and again delayed by rain, were forced to spend the glorious Fourth in that city. Unfortunately for me, the dak bungalow was situated within the cantonment lines, and when I arose at daybreak, prepared to fire a salute of twenty-one shots, the gentle-mannered coolie servant gave a terrified look at the gun and bolted for the cook-house. Before I could fire once, a soldier called to me not to shoot unless I wished to be carted off to the guardhouse for violating military orders, which prohibit firing within the cantonment. Undoubtedly I would have been arrested on the charge of discharging firearms inside the lines, creating a disturbance, and possibly treason, and I dread to think of the effect my explanation of celebrating the Fourth of July would have had on an Englishman, especially an army officer, who might have lived on “Cornwallis Road.” Rain fell throughout July 5, on which day we were able to cover only eighteen miles, halting for the night at the little village of Rajpur. Such a small settlement has little need for a dak bungalow, and in consequence, travelers who are so unfortunate as to be compelled to seek shelter for the night, take up quarters at an ancient building owned, but unoccupied, by the Rajah of Petialla. Mrs. McIlrath declared the building was an “old cobra trap,” and constantly on the watch for scorpions and snakes, it was but natural that when we retired our dreams were of reptiles.

Several times in the night I was awakened, the last time, along toward morning, by a severe pain in my left leg. Paralyzed with the thought of the deadly krite and cobra bite, and the absolute certainty of death resulting in from five to fifteen minutes, I lay calm and rigid for a moment, thinking I was the victim of a dream, but the smarting in my leg continued, and I called to my wife, exclaiming that I had been bitten. She was awake in an instant, and lighting the lamp, we looked around for the cobra. Though we could find no possible trace of a snake, there were on my leg six small punctures, arranged in a semi-circle. For an hour we waited for indications of snake poison in my system, but none appeared. Several times I imagined the choking sensations which precede complete asphyxia, were attacking my throat, but a gulp of water or a puff at my cigarette dispelled this illusion, and at the end of sixty minutes I was compelled to admit that my experience with the cobra had turned out a dismal failure. I cannot to this day offer any possible explanation of my wounds, unless they were inflicted by Rodney, the pet monkey which we made our traveling companion 200 miles back. The “monk” occasionally crept up on my bed to avoid the ants and insects which swarmed over the ground and floors, and it may have been that after making himself comfortable, I had disturbed him and he retaliated by biting the offending leg. Few persons who have not visited India during the Summer rains, can realize what danger there is from poisonous reptiles, chiefly the krite and cobra, and how the dreaded things creep into the most unusual places, just where one would never think of being cautious. In one village of 400 inhabitants, through which we passed, five persons died from snake bites during the five days preceding our arrival. Unlike the rattler, the krite and cobra give no audible warning, except a slight hiss, and directly opposite is the effect of the bite. While the rattler’s poison acts on the blood, it may be mitigated by ligation above the wound and the free use of alcohol, but the cobra and krite wounds act directly upon the nerves, producing paralysis and asphyxia, and despite all legends to the contrary, the bite of either reptile, if the fangs are intact, is as surely fatal as decapitation. There is not a remedy known which will even prolong life after the bite has been inflicted.

Cities of considerable size, evidently prosperous and well-kept, are many and frequent along the Trunk road in Punjab, and under an excellent system of irrigating canals, crops appear vigorous and abundant. The native method of raising water from the canals into field-ditches is a novelty to the eyes of the Westerner, and language would never describe the squeaking water wheel, with earthen pots in place of buckets, and the slow-plodding, patient bullocks that revolve the wheel. “Persian Wheels,” the primitive machines are called, and though winds are strong and almost perpetual, no one appears to consider the old way inefficient, and harness wind and water with one of the powerful wind engines which dot the prairies of the United States. India is a close second to China in adhering to native customs, and after a journey of fifteen hundred miles, made through the country, in such a manner as to mingle with and know the people, I am of the opinion that the English who govern India, are but a trifle less conservative, and that what broad ideas of improvement they do possess, that would materially improve the natives' condition without benefiting the government revenue, are never allowed to develop and expand. India is not governed by the English with any philanthropic ideas, and when one has spent a few months poring over financial reports and statistics, tax lists and penal codes, the idea is firmly fixed in the mind that India is governed by the English for England.