Tea on a short smooth sward, starred with yellow colchicum, while the
carriage, travel-stained and with one step lacking, stood on the road hard
by, and the horses nibbled invigorating lumps of "gram" and molasses. Then
the etna was returned to the "allo bagh" (yellow bag) and the tea things
to the tiffin basket, and away we went along the now smooth and level road
with only fifteen easy miles between us and Baramula.
The vegetation had gradually grown much richer. The sparse and
storm-buffeted pines and the rough scrub merged into a tangled mass of
undergrowth and forest, where silver firs and deodars rose conspicuous.
The little streams that rushed down the hillsides were fringed with
maidenhair fern, lighted up here and there with a bunch of pink primula or
a tiny cluster of dog violets.
Jhelum had ceased from roaring, pursuing his placid path unwitting of the
rush and fury that would befall him lower down, and by-and-by we emerged
from the dark and forest-covered gorge into a wide basin where the river,
now smooth and oily, reflected tall poplars and the red shoots of young
dogwood.
Through a village, round a sweep to the left, over a tract said to be much
frequented by serpents, and then in the deepening and chilly dusk we made
out Baramula, lying engirdled by a belt of poplars about a mile away.
Glad were we, and probably gladder still our weary horses, to draw up
before the uninviting-looking dak bungalow, knowing that only thirty-five
miles of level and open road lay now between us and Srinagar.
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