On the 23rd of February, 1867, we marched into Rawul Pindee, after a journey which was most successfully accomplished. We were quite sorry the long march was over. The men were in most splendid condition. The usual amount of difficulty in collecting transport going up country had been encountered, but everything had gone right at last. We all had had pleasant meetings with old friends at the various stations we had passed. At several of them my wife and I had stopped for a night or two at a friend’s bungalow, driving on afterwards, and overtaking the regiment, which had always been moving steadily on. So it was with real regret we watched the departure from camp on the last day’s march. The four bullock-carts started with the servants, the goats dragging behind. The wives of the chief men were in marching trim, with tight blue trousers down to their heavily-bangled ankles, and over their heads was a great white square of linen, reaching to their waists; behind them again was the swaying line of camels. The Rangers had owned a pack of fox-hounds, which had given many a good day’s run in the plains of the North West, and it was to our great dismay we were told, on being ordered to Rawul Pindee, that our pack would be of no use up there. So they were disposed of before we left Cawnpore, and when we saw the broken country we had got into, we felt we had done wisely to sell them. The hot weather was very near when we reached Pindee. We had just time to get comfortably housed and settled when it was upon us. CHAPTER VII. THE AMEER OF CABUL. RAWUL PINDEE--EXPEDITION TO CASHMERE--INDIAN HEAT--VISIT OF THE AMEER OF CABUL--LADY IN A RIDING-HABIT--DEATH OF BISHOP MILMAN--ABSURD STATEMENT--PESHAWUR--CHOKEDARS--NOWSHERA--HORSE-DEALERS--M’KAY--WILD SCENE--MARCH TO CASHMERE--MURREE--FAITHLESS COOLIES--DAYWAL--TERRORS OF MY BEARER. CHAPTER VII. Rawul Pindee is one of the most favourite quarters, being so close to the hill station of Murree. Four hours carries one from the breathless heat of the plain to the top of a mountain, with an elevation of seven thousand four hundred and fifty-seven feet. My wife and I were eager to make an expedition during the leave season into Cashmere. The mountains guarding the Happy Valley had stood out, a grand rampart, clear on the horizon, a great part of our march. Our plans were all arranged. Light tents were bought, and leave was obtained, when cholera made its appearance in the regiment. Of course going away then was out of the question. The married people were sent--to their great discomfort--into camp, and extraordinary precautions were taken to prevent the spread of the disease, the horrors of which we had so lately seen.