Then the Paharrees, at least 500 of them, who were resting on the hill, began calling to their friends, 500 more, who were cooking in the valley. One man was calling for his friend Buddooah. 'Oh! Buddooah! Buddoo!' to which somebody responded, 'Oh! Almooah!' and it was not Almooah who had called; so then the caller began again at the top of his voice: 'Oh! Buddooah!' and the answer was, 'Oh! Culloo!' but it was not Culloo, by any manner of means; so then he called again, till he had woke every Buddooah in camp, and I don't believe he ever found the right one at last. However, I arrived at the conclusion that Buddooah must be Hindustani for 'Jack,' it seemed such a common name, and that is a great discovery; and I also settled that, if I had had a stick and no headache, I would have gone and taught that man to carry his own messages, and not stand there screaming all night. The conclusion of the night was, that a rat ran over my bed and across my throat, and did not the least care for my trying to catch him. We came on early this morning, and my head is beginning to improve. Fir Tree Bungalow, Friday, Nov. 1. F. and G. and P. arrived to breakfast to-day, and this afternoon we all go down to our deplorable tents. There is a distant view of Simla from this place, and very pretty it looks. Giles is taking a sentimental farewell of it through a telescope, and lamenting over his lost garden: 'But one comfort, ma'am, is that I have brought away my favourite gardener to look after your pheasants.' I am trying to carry down to Calcutta some of the Himalayan pheasants, to be shipped off to your Charlie the moment we arrive. They are such beautiful creatures, the whole bird of bronzed blue, like the breast of a peacock, except the tail and wings, which are of a reddish brown, and they have a bright green tuft on their heads. I have had some of them two months, and they have grown tame, but at first they are very apt to die of fright. Yesterday, when I took up the last new one to feed it, it fainted away and died soon after. However, I still have five, and they have a snug little house, carried by two men, and a little tent of netting, which is pitched in front of it when we halt, so that they may run in and out without being touched. Every precaution is taken, but still there will be many a slip between this pheasant cup and Charlie's lip, I am afraid. CHAPTER XLV. Pinjore, Sunday, Nov. 3, 1839.