--The lumbadhar of Gunderbal, in spite of his
magnificent name, is a rascal of the deepest dye. He put much water in our
milk, to the furious disgust of Sabz Ali, and he failed to provide the
coolies I had ordered; I therefore reported him to Chattar Singh, and sent
my messengers forth, like another Lars Porsena, to catch coolies.
This was early on Tuesday morning, and a sufficient number of ponies and
coolies having been got together by 5.30, we started.
I may here note that, owing to a confusion between _Gunderbal_ (the port,
so to speak, of the Sind Valley, and route to Leh and Thibet) and
_Gangabal_, a lake lying some 12,000 feet above the sea behind Haramok,
our arrangement to meet the Smithsons at Gangabal was altered by a letter
from them announcing their imminent arrival at Gunderbal! This was
perturbing, but as the mistake was not ours, we decided not to allow
ourselves to be baulked of a trip for which we had surrendered an
expedition to Shisha Nag, beyond Pahlgam.
The lower part of the Sind Valley is in nowise interesting; the way was
both tedious and hot, and we rejoiced greatly when, having crossed the
Sind River, we found a lovely spring and halted for tiffin. After an
hour's rest we followed the main road a little farther, and then, passing
the mouth of the Chittagul Nullah, turned up the Wangat Valley. The
scenery became finer, and the last hour's march along a steep
mountain-side, with the Wangat River far below on our right, was a great
improvement on what we had left behind us.
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