When we at last ventured to draw back the canvas doorway the rain had ceased, and mud, mud, mud lay everywhere. The storm had left behind it a cold, raw, dismal evening. And there drawn up in single file before the tent were our twenty porters and guides, who, in order to appear more pathetic, had come without their fur shoulder garments. One of the guides stepped forward as spokesman and explained that they wanted to be paid in advance. They absolutely refused shells and rupees, and would only accept calico, which, they said, would protect them from the cold on the journey to the snows. Judging from the quantity of clothes we had heaped already on ourselves to keep off the penetrating damp wind, their demand threatened to be a real difficulty, as we had only equipped ourselves with a limited supply of calico. They were then asked what length of material each required as wages, and in a half timid voice, as if afraid of uttering such an extortion, the answer came “three hands apiece” (one and a half yards). Our calico managed to run to that, and thereupon each man received his advance payment. With a broad grin of satisfaction and pride they struggled to tuck as much of themselves as possible inside their fifty-four inches of material. The result was quite ludicrous, but they appeared perfectly delighted. Evidently their plea had only been a ruse to insure their wages, for none of the calico was seen on the journey. The only personal impedimenta with which most of them travelled were a few strands of smouldering grass encased in a bark sheath. This was brought out immediately we struck camp, and they had ferretted out a shelter for themselves under a rock or trees. A fire was quickly kindled, and round this they all squatted and roasted the conies they had entrapped during the day’s climb. At night they did not attempt to erect a hut or covering, but maintained this same cramped position round the fire; they interlaced arms, and each one slept with his head resting on the next man’s shoulder. On one occasion the rain poured down upon them all night long, and although their little shoulder coney-skins were hopelessly inadequate to insure them against a thorough soaking, they turned up in the morning in the most cheerful spirits, absolutely unaffected by their uncongenial surroundings.