September 9.—Found the sun brightly shining again this morning, and everything looking fresh and beautiful after the rain. The man who had gone with supplies to the cook returned with [[251]]news that he was ill from the effects of cold and fasting, and not able to come on to us. While at breakfast, my yesterday’s guide brought us in a bowl of raspberries, which gave pleasant token of the change from the desolate country we had recently passed through, to the land of plenty we had reached. We also got about eleven seers (22 lbs.) of virgin honey, for which we paid three rupees. While trying it for breakfast, a dense swarm of the original proprietors came looking for their stores, and the noise they made buzzing about, made one fancy they contemplated walking off bodily with the jars. In the evening our long-lost cook again returned to the bosom of his family. The poor creature looked regularly worn out. From the combined effects of snow and fire he was quite lame; his turban, most of his clothes, and all his small possessions, had vanished while struggling through the thick cover, and he himself had subsisted for two nights and three days, unsheltered and alone, upon nothing but tobacco and snow! On losing his way, not thinking of crossing the snow-bridge, he struck right up the mountain side, in search, first of the path, and afterwards of some hut or shelter. He then gradually got into thick and almost impervious cover; not a habitation of any sort was within miles of him, [[252]]and thus he wandered about for two days and nights. On the third day he descended again towards the torrent, and, falling and stumbling, reached a rock on its bank, and there seating himself, was, by the merest chance, seen by the passing traveller from the other side of the torrent. Making signs that he was starving, this man threw him some chupatties, and these, wonderful to relate, the cook put in his pocket without touching. Supposing him to be either too weak, or else, even while starving, too strict a Hindoo to eat cooked food, his rescuer then threw him across some meal in his turban, and went off for assistance. The poor creature was rather proud, I think, to find himself the centre of attraction, as well as of being valued at twenty rupees; and, as he falteringly related his sorrows and escape from death, the coolies and the rest of the forces gathered round him, listening with wide open mouths to the wonderful narrative of his adventures.
September 10.—Took another day’s rest to give our unfortunate cook a little time to recover his energies. In the evening, the villagers produced us a couple of hives of honey, which we packed away in earthen jars for transport to the plains. The amount was 39½ seers, or 79 lbs. for which we paid ten rupees. [[253]]
The unwillingness of the people to produce their honey the “Invincible One” accounted for by saying that they were afraid of our not paying them. On inquiry, however, the real cause turned out to be, that the Sepoy himself was in the habit of exacting a heavy tax on all purchases on our part, and fear of him, not us, was the true difficulty.
In the evening, we took a tour through the village, and discoursed, as well as we could, a native Zemindar, whom we found with his household around him, gathering in his crop of grain, which had been partially destroyed by the early snow. His land appeared to be about four acres in extent, and for this, he told us, he paid twelve rupees per annum to the Maharajah of Cashmere. He failed signally, however, in explaining how he produced that amount by his little farm. The produce of his land sufficed only to feed himself and his family, and the proceeds of the sale of wool, belonging to his twelve sheep, he estimated at only two rupees. Besides these, he possessed a few cows, and appeared as cheery and contented a landholder as I ever met, in spite of his losses by the snows, and his inability to make out, even by description, his ten rupees of ground-rent to the Maharajah. [[254]]
The crops around consisted chiefly of bearded wheat (kanûk), barley (jow), anik, tronba, and gunhar, all otherwise nameless; and also a small quantity of tobacco, turnips, and radishes.
September 11.—Having with some difficulty procured a pony for the cook, we started again for Cashmere, and, after a very steep ascent, through woods of magnificent pine-trees, with every now-and-then a glorious peep of distant snow-peaks towering in the skies, we reached the summit of the peer, which separates the territory called Kushtwar from that of Cashmere. According to the “Invincible” authority, this territory belonged, some sixty years ago, to an independent Rajah, and, on his death without heirs or successors, it fell into the clutches of Gûlab Singh.[3] [[255]]
The entire revenue, he stated, was 3,000 rupees. From the heights along our path, we could see the great glaciers of Dutchen, with its mountain peak of 25,000 feet, which we had been bound for when the misadventure of our cook interfered with our plans, and left us not sufficient time to carry out our explorations.
The summit of the pass we found evidently not long freed from the old snow, while the new supply lay about in masses all over the mountain.
Passing over a wild and marshy plain at the summit, we began to descend a lovely pine-clad valley once more into veritable Cashmere, and, about four P.M. encamped in a forest-clearing, which, in a very short space of time, was illuminated by no less than seven roaring campfires. Our own formed the centre, and was formed of a couple of entire pine-trunks, while the others were ranged about wherever a dry and prostrate tree presented a favourable basis for a conflagration. In the evening we enjoyed [[256]]the warmth of our fires considerably, and discussed hot brandy and water seated on the very trees which formed our fuel. We were all the more inclined to appreciate our position, as we felt that we were nearly out of our cold latitudes, and rapidly descending to the land of dog days once again.
September 12.—Continued our march down the valley, through continued wooded grassy scenes, and attended by a not too noisy torrent. About a kos from our halting place, we began again to see the wooden houses, and came to a halt at the picturesque little village of Nowbogh, where there were two roads branching off to Islamabad.