have survived the year, hold on by their roots with
something like desperation; but they are doomed to
go with next year’s flood. The river’s path, as I strain
up its vistas, is traceable through a gap in the line of
forest, beyond which ranges of hills rise up in successive
folds. Each mountain wave varies in colour from its
neighbour ; each moment sun and cloud ring the changes
UNDER THE STOCKADE, KAN I VILLAGE
from blue to green, the colours of the peacock, and
the river moving on its way bestows upon the scene
the continuity of sentient life. It is scenery.of a restful
order, content-bringing, and pleasant to the eyes. The
gap as we approach it becomes the gateway of Kani
and Kane; the former a lofty cliff surmounted by a
pagoda, with a charming village of palms and betel-
vines below it, and wooden stairs reaching up from
400
MINGIN : CHIN HILLS ON THE HORIZON
