Past the familiar groups of grave, white-robed men solemnly washing
themselves, then scooping up and drinking the noisome fluid; past their
ladies squatting like frogs by the river-side, washing away at clothes
which never seem a whit the cleanlier for all their talk and trouble.
Past the children and fowls, and cows and crows, all hob-nobbing together
as usual.
Past all these sights--so strange to us at first and now so strangely
familiar--we floated, till the broken remnant of the seventh bridge lay
behind us, and the lofty poplars that hem in the Baramula road stood stark
and solemn in their endless perspective.
Here a jangling note, out of tune and harsh, was struck by the dobie, with
whom we had a grave difference of opinion regarding the washing.
That gentleman having "lost by neglect" certain articles of my kit--to wit
sundry shirts and other garments--and having rendered others completely
_hors de combat_ by reason of his sinful method of washing, I decided to
"cut" three rupees off his remuneration.
This decision seemed to have taken from him all that life held of worth,
and he implored me to spare his wife, children, and home, all of whom
would be broken up and ruined if I were cruel enough, to enforce my awful
threat. Seeing that I was obdurate, being well backed by the infuriated
Jane, whose underwear showed far more lace and open work than nature
intended, the wretched dobie melted into loud and tearful lamentation, and
perched himself howling in the prow.
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