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Outside the town, on the lee side of a triumphal arch erected, maybe, to the memory of one of the virtuous widows of the district I untied my pukai and donned my mackintosh and wind-cap. A gale blew, my fingers ached with the cold, breathing was rendered difficult by the rarefied air.
As we were thus engaged and discussing the prospects of the storm, yelling from under a gigantic straw hat, a fellow said We had thirty li to do. The storm did not come, however, and my men ever after reminded me to keep out my wind-cap and my mackintosh, partly to lighten their loads, of course, and partly on account of the good omen it seemed to them to be.
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