for a
stand, not more than fifty yards wide, with a perpendicular cliff on
one side and a roaring torrent on the other.

The people apparently did not object to our being in their country,
and treated us with much civility throughout our journey. We were
enjoying ourselves immensely, so when an official cover reached us
with the signature of the dreaded Deputy-Commissioner in the corner,
we agreed that it would be unwise to open it just then.

Khagan was almost buried in snow. The scenery was magnificent, and
became every moment more wonderful as we slowly climbed the steep
ascent in front of us; range after range of snow-capped mountains
disclosed themselves to our view, rising higher and higher into the
air, until at last, towering above all, Nanga Parbat[4] in all her
spotless beauty was revealed to our astonished and delighted gaze.

We could not get beyond Khagan. Our coolies refused to go further,
alleging as their reason the danger to be dreaded from avalanches
in that month; but I suspect that fear of hostility from the tribes
further north had more to do with their reluctance to proceed than
dread of falling avalanches. We remained at Khagan for two or
three days in the hope of being able to shoot an ibex, but we were
disappointed; we never even saw one.

We retraced our steps with considerable regret, and reached
Habibula-Ki-Ghari on the 31st May. Here we received a second official
document from Abbottabad. It contained, like the previous letter,
which we now looked at for the first time, orders for our immediate
return, and warnings that we were on no account to go to Khagan. Since
then Khagan has been more than once visited by British officers, and
now a road is in course of construction along the route we travelled,
as being a more direct line of communication with Gilghit than that
_via_ Kashmir.

We made no delay at Habibula-Ki-Ghari, but started at once for the
lovely Vale of Kashmir, where we spent the summer, amusing ourselves
by making excursions to all the places of interest and beauty we had
so often heard of, and occasionally shooting a bear. The place which
impressed me most was Martund,[5] where stand the picturesque ruins of
a once renowned Hindu temple. These noble ruins are the most striking
in size and position of all the existing remains of the past glories
of Kashmir.

From Martund we made our way to Vernag, the celebrated spring which
is supposed to be the source of the Jhelum riv