cut off below by the wild waves of the stream. It
stretched away above to a vast overhanging crag, the
crown of the height I was crossing. Walking on snow in
sandals has always its drawbacks, and when that walking
means picking your way across a field lying at an
angle of forty-five deg. with a drop of fifty feet, only
bound by an uncomfortably rock-filled and bustling
torrent, the disagreeables are multiplied. However,
as there is no standing still in this world, I went
on and found myself far too interested in testing
the security of each foothold to trouble
about what was below or behind. Safely landed
on the \ further side after about two hundred
yards of this slithering kind of marching, and having
more or less dried my sandals, I moved on for further
experiments, and realised soon that the morning would
not be passed without even keener emotions. At one
spot where the stream widened into a kind of pool, or
rather “ broad ” of rocks, washed by a frenzy of foam-
crowned, tumultuous waters, a huge snow heap barred
the way. I t had slipped bodily down the mountain
side into the path, leaving no space between itself and
the stream. As I approached, three men and two ponies
were attempting to force their way through the tumult
of waters. One pony, having lost its footing, had tried
to mount a large boulder, and when I saw it it was feebly
see-sawing backwards and forwards in imminent danger
of slipping off into the deep holes on either side. Its
owners were strong and active, and succeeded, after
relieving it of its load, in leading, or rather half-carrying,
it into more secure places. Watching them had neither
helped nor encouraged me. The coolies signed to try
their ponies, but the fate of their late loads had not
incited me to like methods, and I preferred clambering
up my snow height, though digging inadequately shod
toes into frozen snow is a slow method of making steps.
I had arrived at a considerable height when I was
unpleasantly surprised by a nasty crevasse! Not wide
enough to have troubled a very moderate jumper under
ordinary circumstances, it presented to me many difficulties.
The “ take-off ” was considerably lower than
the further side, with the additional difficulty of being
on a considerable slope. I did not feel at all hopeful
about anything. I wished dismally I had elected to
end my days in any kind of an ordinary resting-place
giving opportunities of sending last messages and final
requests to a circle of sorrowing friends, instead of
being hard-frozen like beef or mutton at the bottom of
a snow block. I even wondered if my men would ever
discover what had become of me, or if they would simply
regard it as a matter of non-interference, the st.rfl.nge
goings and comings of the “ Sahib log” being beyond
the province of a poor man to understand! Eventually,
with a gasp and a valiant effort, I was across my
“ yawning chasm,” and for the next mile found my path
fairly easy, though the recent thaw made the security
of a snow bridge rather doubtful. The stream, likewise,
of course, the path, took an abrupt turn to the left,
and I was in a region already touched with spring’s life-
giving hand. The merg, site of old Sonamerg, was all
dotted with tiny flowers, the first crop after the melting
of the snows. The Sind, now fallen into quieter
methods, pursued its tranquil way between beds of
white marsh marigolds, while on either side spread a
carpet of tiny primulas, the gagea lutea, small fritillaries,
gentians, a countless, brightly-clad host.