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The highway crossed the neighboring stream on a treacherous-looking bridge, the central pier of which was built of the crudest kind of masonry piled on top of a gigantic boulder in midstream. The main arch of the bridge consisted of two long logs across which had been thrown a quantity of brush held down by earth and stones.
There was no mistaking that fact, and with a thrill, which I have no hesitancy in confessing was the most intense fear I have ever experienced in my life, I broke into a terrified, panic-stricken run. The river grew dark, sluggish and treacherous-looking. By the blood flowing from my feet, Indian scouts could track me for leagues.
As soon as I came up to the first gang of workmen, the jemadar, a treacherous-looking villain, informed me that the men working further up the ravine had refused to obey his orders, and asked me if I would go and see them.
The path from this continued its perilous character, in one place traversing a precipitous face of rock only passable on all fours, beneath which a thick cover of long grass and weeds hung over the deep, treacherous-looking pools of the torrent. Having on a pair of grass shoes which had already done one day's work, I had broken down about half way, and was now nearly bare-footed.
There was really more danger in this than in any lack of seakindliness on the part of the vessel. Each time she ran away from a treacherous-looking breaker, the captain would pat the topgallant bulwarks and speak words of touching tenderness as though he was communing with a little child. The further they ran north, the bigger the seas became.
A treacherous-looking specimen it was, and after taking its likeness in my pocket-book, I was passing it as a matter of course, when I suddenly heard a shout, and perceived F. and the mate at the other side of the torrent beckoning me to cross the snow. I accordingly, with no very good grace and some astonishment, essayed the passage.
There were many patches of black mud and stagnant water, carpets of treacherous-looking green moss, bare clumps of bushes bent all one way by the northwest wind, masses of rock, gaunter and sterner now that their summer covering of creeping shrubs and bracken had lost their foliage. It was indeed the month of desolation. Every scrap of colour seemed to have faded from the dripping wet landscape.
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