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None will follow us to Shamlegh. This was the nervous Rampur man. 'I have been Fostum Sahib's shikarri, and I am Yankling Sahib's shikarri. I shall not leave this Holy One. They sat down a little apart from the lama, and, after listening awhile, passed round a water-pipe whose receiver was an old Day and Martin blacking-bottle.
He has many "murghis" left; baskets full, as he says, for they are cheap in the Lolab, but we shall never love another so dearly. We had a shocking time while climbing to the pass which leads over to Rampur, the road being deep in slimy mud, and so slippery that the unfortunate baggage ponies could hardly get along.
There had been a royal dog-fight in the ravine at the back of the rifle-butts, between Learoyd's Jock and Ortheris's Blue Rot both mongrel Rampur hounds, chiefly ribs and teeth. It lasted for twenty happy, howling minutes, and then Blue Rot collapsed and Ortheris paid Learoyd three rupees, and we were all very thirsty.
'It is well to be brave when one does not live in Rampur, said one whose hut lay within a few miles of the Rajah's rickety palace. 'If we get a bad name among the Sahibs, none will employ us as shikarris any more. 'Oh, but these are not Angrezi Sahibs not merry-minded men like Fostum Sahib or Yankling Sahib. They are foreigners they cannot speak Angrezi as do Sahibs.
He can enjoy the best of polo and golf, and, if he be not a misogynist, he will vary the 'daily round' with picnics and scrambles on foot or on horseback, in exploring the endless beauty of the place, coming home to his hut or tent as the sun sinks behind the great pines that screen the Rampur Road, to wind up the happy day with a cheery dinner and game of bridge.
It would have been much better to cut their beastly throats. When he presented himself again he was racked with a headache penitent, and volubly afraid that in his drunkenness he might have been indiscreet. He loved the British Government it was the source of all prosperity and honour, and his master at Rampur held the very same opinion.
There was flags an' banners wavin' high, an' dhress and shtyle were shown, But the best av all the company was Misther John Malone. John Malone. There had been a royal dog-fight in the ravine at the back of the rifle-butts, between Learoyd's Jock and Ortheris's Blue Rot both mongrel Rampur hounds, chiefly ribs and teeth.
He wrung out his wet clothes, slipped on his patent-leather shoes, opened the blue-and-white umbrella, and with mincing gait and a heart beating against his tonsils appeared as 'agent for His Royal Highness, the Rajah of Rampur, gentlemen. What can I do for you, please? The gentlemen were delighted. One was visibly French, the other Russian, but they spoke English not much inferior to the Babu's.
I go from here straight into the Doon. It is verree verdant and painted meads. I shall go to Mussoorie to good old Munsoorie Pahar, as the gentlemen and ladies say. Then by Rampur into Chini. That is the only way they can come. I do not like waiting in the cold, but we must wait for them. I want to walk with them to Simla. You see, one Russian is a Frenchman, and I know my French pretty well.
Passing the somewhat uninviting little village of Rampur, we crossed a torrent pouring out of a dark pine-clad gorge, and halted for tea by the curious ruined temple of Bhanyar. The building consists of a rectangular wall, cloistered on two sides of the interior and surrounding a small temple approached by a dilapidated flight of stone steps.
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