The unfortunate Jane--always a popular person--is especially so with
insects; and if there is a flea or a mosquito anywhere within range it
immediately rushes to her.
She paid dearly for her fatal gift of attractiveness at Palhallan--her
eyes, usually so keen, being what is vulgarly termed "bunged up," and
every vulnerable spot in like piteous plight!
We quitted Palhallan as the Lot family quitted Sodom and Gomorrah, but
with no lingering tendency to look backward; we cast our eyes unto the
hills, and kicked the best pace we could out of our "tattoos," halting for
breakfast soon after crossing the hot, white road which runs from Baramula
to Srinagar.
As we left the steamy valley and wound up a rapidly ascending path among
the lower fringes and outliers of the forest our spirits rose, and by the
time we had clambered up the last stiff pull and emerged from the
darkly-wooded track into the little clearing, where perches the village of
Babamarishi, we were positively cheerful.
Once more the air was fresh and buoyant, the spring water was cool and
"delicate to drink," and from our tents we could look out over the valley
lying dim in a yellow heat-haze far below.
Babamarishi is a picturesquely-grouped collection of the usual
rickety-looking wooden huts, no dirtier, but perhaps noisier than usual,
owing to the presence of a very holy ziarat much frequented by loudly
conversational devotees. We spent the crisp, warm afternoon peacefully
stretched on the sloping sward in front of our tents, and making the
acquaintance of the only good thing that came out of Palhallan--a charming
quartette of young geese which Sabz Ali had bought and brought.
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