The prospect was not cheerful--a grey veil of cloud lay
over all the surrounding hills, here and there deepening into dark and
angry thunder-clouds. The road was desperately heavy, but the General had
most kindly sent on a pair of mules ahead, and, with another pair in the
shafts, our own nags took a holiday as far as Manserah.
The weather grew worse. It rained very heavily and thundered with great
vigour, and as we straggled up the deeply-muddied slope to the dak
bungalow at Manserah we felt somewhat low; but we did not in the least
realise what was before us!
Our road had lain through fairly level plains, with low cuttings here and
there, where the saturated soil was already beginning to give way and fall
upon the road in untidy heaps; but this did not foreshadow what might
occur later.
At Manserah we met Hill and Hunt, two young gunners, _en route_ for Astor.
They left in a tonga soon after we arrived, and we did not expect to see
their speedier outfit again.
Being pressed for time, we only had a cup of cocoa, and then hastened on
our dismal career.
The road grew steeper, winding over some low hills, but we could not see
very much, as the whirling cloud masses blotted out all the view.
By-and-by it bent towards a pine-clad hill, and began to ascend steeply.
By this time we were very wet, as we had to walk up the hills to ease the
horses. The scene was extraordinary, as the great thunder-clouds boiled up
and over us--tawny yellow, and even orange in the lights, and dull and
solid lead colour in the depths.
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