er
uncle or brother occupied the seat behind, which is far more
comfortable. At last, however, he was obliged to give his place to
Kildare, who had been very patient, but at last said it "really wasn't
fair, you know," and so Isaacs courteously yielded. At last we reached
Kalka, where the tongas are exchanged for _dak gharry_ or mail carriage,
a thing in which you can sit up in the daytime and lie down at night,
there being an extension under the driver's box calculated for the
accommodation of the longest legs. When lying down in one of these
vehicles the sensation is that of being in a hearse and playing a game
of funeral. On this occasion, however, it was still early when we made
the change, and we paired off, two and two, for the last part of the
drive. By the well planned arrangements of Isaacs and Kildare, two
carriages were in readiness for us on the express train, and though the
difference in temperature was enormous between Simla and the plains,
still steaming from the late rainy season, the travelling was made easy
for us, and we settled ourselves for the journey, after dining at the
little hotel; Miss Westonhaugh bidding us all a cheery "good-night" as
she retired with her _ayah_ into the carriage prepared for her. I will
not go into tedious details of the journey--we slept and woke and slept
again, and smoked, and occasionally concocted iced drinks from our
supplies, for in India the carriages are so large that the traveller
generally provides himself with a generous basket of provisions and a
travelling ice-chest full of bottles, and takes a trunk or two with him
in his compartment. Suffice it to say that we arrived on the following
day at Fyzabad in Oude, and that we were there met by guides and
shikarries--the native huntsmen--who assured us that there were tigers
about near the outlying station of Pegnugger, where the elephants,
previously ordered, would all be in readiness for us on the following
day. The journey from Fyzabad to Pegnugger was not a long one, and we
set out in the cool of the evening, sending our servants along in that
"happy-go-lucky" fashion which characterises Indian life. It has always
been a mystery to me how native servants manage always to turn up at the
right moment. You say to your man, "Go there and wait for me," and you
arrive and find him waiting; though how he transferred himself thither,
with his queer-looking bundle, and his lota, and cooking utensils, and
your best teapot