"Yes. The stifling heat, particularly in May, June and July, when you get the hot dry winds, is altogether insufferable in those stuffy railway carriages, while up here it is delightfully cool and bracing, and the view is magnificent." "Hullo! what is that fine river down there?" asked the judge, as he looked down through the clear, tropical atmosphere on to the delightful landscape of river, plain and forest three thousand feet below. "Oh, that must be the Indus, the King River of Vedic poetry, a wonderful stream, two thousand miles in length," said the colonel, consulting his pocket map. "Can it really be the Indus?" "It is indeed." "Then we have already travelled four hundred miles since noon across the burning plains of India, and we have reached the confines of this wonderful land," replied Jefferson. "Yes, we have indeed. We shall soon enter the native state of Baluchistan. See yonder, right ahead of us, I can already make out the highest peaks of the Sulaiman Mountains. We are already rising to cross them." "And this evening we shall cross the troubled territory of Afghanistan." "Yes," replied the colonel, "and by midnight, if all goes well, we shall be sailing over Persia." "Persia, the land of enchantment," mused the judge. "And of the _Arabian Nights_, those wonderful tales which charmed our boyhood--the land of Aladdin, of the wonderful lamp, and the magic carpet." "The magic carpet," laughed the judge. "This is the real magic carpet. The author of that wonderful story never dreamt that the day would really come when the traveller from other lands, reclining in luxury, would be carried through the air across his native land, by day or by night, at twice the flight of a bird." And so these two men talked about these wonderful classic lands over which they were sailing so serenely, of Zoroaster, the great Persian teacher of other days, of Ahura Mazda, the All-Wise, and the Cobbler of Baghdad, until the tea-bell startled them. Then, finding they were hungry because the bracing air had made them so, they passed on to the snug little tea-room, where, amid the palm-trees and the orchids, they listened to soft dulcet notes from a small Indian orchestra which accompanied the maharajah. Here, they sipped delicious china tea from dainty Persian cups, and appeased their hunger, as best they could, from the tiny portions of alluring _patisserie_ which usually accompany afternoon tea. But, later that evening, they did ample justice to a fuller and nobler banquet, which had been prepared for them in the gilded and lofty dining saloon; for they were the honoured guests of the Maharajah of Bangapore. And he entertained them right royally as befitted one of his princely rank.