"'What ARE you?' she inquired. 'Are you an Englishman, or a Russian,--you CAN NOT BE A GERMAN,--or ARE YOU AN AMERICAN? Oh, I just hope you ARE an AMERICAN!... When I informed her that my ancestors fought beside _Kosciusko_ and Pulaski and that their names might be found on the muster rolls of the First Line Regiment of New York Colony and State, along with the names of Goose Van Schaick and Jeremiah Van Rensselaer, she burst her sides with laughter.... 'What a happy family you must have been!' she rippled. 'When a Fox and a Goose may dwell in peace and amity together there is nothing that is not possible for their race!' "... This quick-witted girl, certainly, BELONGS in the UNITED STATES--the plains of Eastern Turkestan are NO place for her...." 41. There seems to be another skip in the neglected diary. Evidently the scenery has lost all its charms.... He merely notes: "My 'prisoner' seems VERY MUCH interested in my family connections.... He seems jolly enough about it.... BUT I can see that something is DISTURBING him.... He is very obstinate in little things, lately.... When we get into Cashmere perhaps his mind will be diverted.... He loves the languid charm of scenic beauty nearly as much as the flattery of his wife.... Anyway, WHAT can I do?... There is a naturalness about this whole affair that one simply CAN'T get away from.... Danger has a generous way of bestowing blessings on the BOLD..." 42. Then we find the following critical entry: "I shall NEVER read 'Lalla Rookh' again!... The Vale of Cashmere may sound fine in poetry but it FEELS TOUGH beneath one's feet whenever one dismounts.... I might overlook the rough spots easily enough had not OLGA suddenly interested herself in my ANCESTRY while she found employment for Maria with her brother, who seems sadly out of breath.... My 'prisoner' has forgotten all about me in the absorbing interest he displays in what he declares to be EARLY MISSIONARY WORK OF JESUS in these very interesting stretches. It has been no easy matter for me to pilot this party outside the range of camel caravans and soldiers on their way from the Punjab Valley toward RAWAL PINDI.... The rattle of our tongas might be heard at any moment and then our little caravan, disguised as Buddhists, might spend some time in the GUARDHOUSE at Murree.... We will not regret the shade and comparative coolness of that pleasant Summer Resort,--but none of us are longing for any more confinement.... The road from Murree down the valley was gullied by the terrific rain we have been wading through.... I have never seen a blacker night nor a heavier rain than we have just come through... We were constantly in fear of the falling of those gigantic boulders that overhung our path behind the swishing trees that clung along the precipice.... The zigzag road that runs down this slope is like a spiral stair in crookedness and bumps.... We could catch a glimpse now and again of a light from