Bhutan -- Description and travel; British -- India; India -- Description and travel
Subhedar Sohanpal Singh " 128
"We saw another elephant" " 130
The tiger's Lying in state " 172
The tiger's last home " 172
"My sepoys drilling" " 178
Buglers and non-commissioned officers of
my detachment " 178
The walled face of Fort Bower over the
river " 282
The stockade and ditch of Fort Bower " 282
The gate with wicket open and drawbridge
lowered " 286
Captain Balderston inside the stockade " 286
Bringing home the General's dinner " 290
"I was mounted on a country bred pony" " 296
"An elephant loaded with my stores and
baggage" " 296
LIFE IN AN INDIAN OUTPOST
CHAPTER I
A FRONTIER POST
Our first view of the Himalayas--Across India in a troop
train--A scattered regiment--An elephant-haunted
railway--Kinchinjunga--The great Terai
Jungle--Rajabhatkawa--In the days of Warren
Hastings--Hillmen--Roving Chinese--We arrive at Buxa
Road--Relieved officers--An undesirable outpost--March
through the forest--The hills--A mountain road--Lovely
scenery--Buxa Duar--A lonely Station--The labours of an
Indian Army officer--Varied work--The frontier of
Bhutan--A gate of India--A Himalayan paradise--The
fort--Intrusive monkeys--The cantonment--The Picquet
Towers--The bazaar--The cemetery--Forgotten
graves--Tragedies of loneliness--From Bhutan to the
sea.
Against the blue sky to the north lay a dark blur that, as our troop
train ran on through the level plains of Eastern Bengal, rose ever
higher and took shape--the distant line of the Himalayas. Around us the
restful though tame scenery of the little Cooch Behar State. The
chess-board pattern of mud-banked rice fields, long groves of the
graceful feathery bamboo, here and there a tiny hamlet of palm-thatched
huts--on their low roofs great sprawling green creepers with white
blotches that look like skulls but are only ripe melons. But the dark
outlines of the distant mountains drew my gaze and brought the heads of
my sepoys out of the carriage windows to stare at them.
For somewhere on the face of those hills was Buxa Duar, the little fort
that was to be our home for the next two years.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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