t starting. It was impossible, at this rate, to say
when our journey would come to an end. Nor could we get him to admit his
error, and own that one or other of his statements must be wrong. He was
a good-hearted fellow withal, and bore us no malice for our ill temper,
but gave me a walking-stick and an orange as peace-offerings. However,
he rigidly maintained his assertion as to the distance, at the same time
suggesting that we should push on, encouraging us with the assurance that
the rest of the path was a maidan or dead level. As he had made a
similar statement at starting, and as the only bit of level walking we
could remember was a log bridge, over which we had crossed, we knew too
well what amount of confidence to put in this assertion.

At last one of the bearers who had gone on to explore the path ahead came
back with the animating intelligence "that he saw a fire." We therefore
determined to make for it with all diligence, and soon perceived the
bright glare of a large watch-fire, with a party of soldiers crowded
round it. We gladly joined them, and while one of their number was sent
forward for torches we rolled ourselves in our cloaks near the crackling
blaze, for the night was bitterly cold; and, heaping up fresh logs upon
the fire, a bright flame lit up the wild scene.

We forgot our miseries as we watched the picturesque group of weather-
beaten Ghorkas, or gathered what we could from their conversation, of
their opinions upon the politics of the country, and the trip of the
prime minister, on both which subjects they expressed themselves pretty
freely, and took pains to impress upon us how anxious they were for our
safe arrival in camp, informing us that their heads would be the price of
any accident that should happen to us. At last the torches were seen
flickering on the opposite hill, and soon afterwards we commenced our
march in picturesque procession, passing over rugged ascents, across
brawling rocky streams, and down dark romantic glens, until we began to
think that the existence of Pheer Phing was a fiction.

It was about nine o'clock when I perceived we had entered a town which,
by its brick pavement and high houses, I concluded to be a large one.
After crossing three ranges of mountains, each nearly two thousand feet
high, we did not much speculate upon anything but the distance still to
be travelled; and the numerous lights twinkling in the distance were a
welcome evidence of the prox