The latter were obviously overjoyed to see visitors, and visions of unlimited plunder from our festive board would, of course, put them somewhat above themselves. Still, they should have refrained from rioting so openly around our beds as soon as the lights were out, and Jane was naturally indignant when a large one ran over her feet!
On Friday morning we left Harwan, pretty early, as usual, for it is still somewhat too warm to travel comfortably in the middle of the day. The Colonel (always an early bird) got away first, followed by our invalid in his dandy, while Jane and I remained to hunt the loiterers out of camp. A glorious morning, and the cheering knowledge that breakfast was in front of us, sent us merrily along for a mile or two, until branching paths led us to inquire of an intelligent Kashmiri, who appeared to be busily engaged in reaping rice with a penknife, as to the road taken by our precursors, especially the tiffin coolie!
The industrious one had seen no sahibs at all pass by. This was a blow, and Jane and I sat down to review the situation. We finally decided that the son of the soil was indulging in what the great and good Winston Churchill has called a “terminological inexactitude,” as the others must have gone by one of the two roads; so, putting our fortunes to the touch, we took the left-hand path, and were in due time rewarded by reaching Sogul, and there finding our pioneers peacefully seated under a tree, and breakfast ready.
Leaving Sogul, we skirted for some miles a bare ridge which rose on the right, and which looked an ideal ground for chikor, and then turned into a beautiful valley drained by the Pohru, now quite a small and insignificant stream.
Drogmulla, our objective, lies about fourteen miles from Harwan, and the forest house is a full mile beyond the village, at the end of a somewhat steep and winding path.
A welcome sight was the snug rest-house, perched upon a hillock above a fussy little stream and surrounded by a fine clump of deodars.
A tiny lawn in front was decorated with an artificial tank full of water-plants, and through the opening, among the trees, we saw the snowy crest of Shambrywa and the Kaj-nag rising over the deeply-wooded foothills.
Drogmulla was so fascinating a spot, and the weather was so remarkably fine, that we made up our minds to remain here for a few days. That old red-bearded snake, the shikari, has sent the Colonel into a seventh heaven of anticipation by pointing to the encircling forest with promise of “pul-lenty baloo, sahib, this pul-lace.” We straightway ordained a honk.
Our sick soldier is so much better since leaving Gulmarg that he is able to hop “around” with considerable activity on his crutches.
Saturday, September 30, 4 P.M.—Walter and I have been bear-honking all day in a district reputed to be simply crawling with bears. I love bear-honking; it is such a peaceful occupation.