There was one spot where the waters formed a pool or _dah_. Little Carey determined to trust to his pony to carry him across, but deviating to the left, just as I was leaping from a projecting ledge, to my horror, horse and rider disappeared. The shock was momentary, and a good ducking the only result, which in the end was the luckiest thing that could have befallen him. On reaching the Hathidarra, or ‘barrier of the elephant’ (a very appropriate designation for a mass of rock serving as a rampart to shut up the pass), where we had intended to remain the night, we found no spot capacious enough even for a single tent. Orders accordingly passed to the rear for the baggage to collect there, and wait the return of day to continue the march. The shades of night were fast descending, and we proceeded almost in utter darkness towards the banks of the stream, the roar of whose waters was our guide, and not a little perplexed by the tumultuous rush which issued from every glen, to join that we were seeking. Towards the termination of the descent the path became wider, and the voice of the waters of a deeper and hoarser tone, as they glided to gain the plains of Marwar. The vault of heaven, in which there was not a cloud, appeared as an arch to the perpendicular cliffs surrounding us on all sides, and the stars beamed with peculiar brilliancy from the confined space through which we viewed them. As we advanced in perfect silence, fancy busily at work on what might befall our straggling retinue from the ferocious tiger or plundering mountaineer, a gleam of light suddenly flashed upon us on emerging from the brushwood, and disclosed a party of dismounted cavaliers seated round their night-fires under some magnificent fig-trees [678].[4.5.36]