Three Months of My Life | Page 3

Gullee, up a hill to an elevation of 9,000 feet,
and then down again to about 7,000; then up a final steep to Doonga
Gullee, 8,000 feet above the sea. The Khuds much grander very deep
and precipitous, sometimes falling one or two thousand feet from the
edge of the road almost perpendicularly. But the hills are too close
together to allow the valleys to be termed magnificent. Reached
Doonga Gullee at 10 a.m. The length of last march, eleven miles--the
road, a good military one, has been cut in the face of the mountain. Put
up at the Dâk Bungalow, and dined with the officers of the working
party; among them Heath, of the 88th, and Leggatt and Lyons, of the
77th, whom I knew. A number of tents are pitched here for the working
parties from the 19th and 77th Regiments (road making). I was carried
part of the march in my dandy--a piece of carpet gathered at each end
and hooked to a pole,--the pole being carried on the shoulders of two
men. I swung below it just off the ground, and could often look down a
vast depth between my knees. My first pickled tongue, cooked the day
before yesterday was fly-blown at breakfast this morning. This may
seem a trifling note, but it is ominous I fear for the whole of my salted
stores.
JULY 6th.--Got up at 4 o'clock and marched on to Bugnoota, a distance

of thirteen miles. The first four miles a slight rise, and then a rapid
descent all the rest of the way. The road is much narrower, only a mule
track in fact, I walked twelve miles, and then felt tired, and had a
headache afterwards. Pitched my tent in a tope, (a grove of trees) in
company with Dr. and Mrs. Holmes, of Rohat, whom I did not know.
Slight rain in the middle of the day, but it cleared off towards evening.
Felt all right after an hour's sleep and took a stroll before dinner.
Scenery grand, tent pitched on the edge of a deep gorge at the bottom
of which is a mountain stream, the hills rising abruptly on the opposite
side.
JULY 7th.--Marched on to Abbottabad at sunrise, down hill to the river,
and then along its course for two miles over very rough and fatiguing
ground, the river having to be forded twice. In rainy weather this is
very dangerous as its rush is so impetuous. Up hill again then down
into the plain of Abbottabad, 4,000 feet above the sea. Distance twelve
miles though only put down eight in the route. Met the General at the
bottom of the hill. Put up at the Dâk Bungalow, and met Ford, 88th,
and De Marylski, R.A., returning from Kashmir, got some hints from
them. Abbottabad is a small cantonment on a large plain surrounded by
bare mountains, a notice is posted in my room warning travellers not to
go unarmed; so I'll gird on my Kookery to-morrow. A Kookery is a
formidable native knife, about eighteen inches long and over two
inches wide, carried in a peculiar way, sheep and goats heads come off
very easily at a single blow from it. Much hotter down here, the sun
powerful after 10 o'clock, but Punkahs not necessary. This is the
Head-Quarters of the Punjab Frontier force. A pity they do not have an
English Regiment stationed here as it is a very pleasant place as regards
climate. Snow in winter, and this the warmest time of the year quite
bearable. Brigadier gone to the hills for the _hot weather._ Took in
supplies of bread and butter and purchased a pair of chuplus or sandals
for marching in, as boots hurt my feet.
JULY 8th.--A long tedious march of nearly fifteen miles to Mansera,
put down in the guide as a level plain road, but having a good many ups
and downs. One of my sandals broke, and I was obliged to ride in the
dandy about half way. Some difficulty occurred in getting my baggage

off as the Coolies did not come. Left my boy to manage it, he came in
about noon with two ponies, I shall not pay for them yet, and then they
will come on with me. A warmer day than yesterday. Mountains rising
up in front, which I shall begin to ascend to-morrow if I make the
whole march of twenty miles. Snow visible above all. The real work of
the trip will now soon commence. The marches hitherto have been
child's play compared with those to come. Mansera is only a native
village, but there is a Dâk Bungalow, in which I am now. Met Captain
Ellis, of the 4th Hussars, returning from Kashmir, and had a talk with
him. There are