We could not understand what had happened, but to hear was to obey, and then a wild scene of excitement ensued. Everyone began to pack up something; the servants struck the camp; M’Kay was everywhere, working hard. The only unconcerned man was an orderly sent by Baboo Mohas Chander, who was placed at our disposal when we first arrived at Srinagur. This valiant warrior divested himself of all his clothes, and, wrapping them in a bundle, squatted in a way which is possible only to natives, holding over his head an umbrella made of broad leaves. He had fixed his position at the edge of the green platform on which our tents were pitched. His apathy was very irritating to M’Kay, and she managed, when flying from one place to another, to give our sepoy a gentle push, and bundle, man, and umbrella rolled down the bank into the water. At length everything had been transported into the dongahs, which resembled the craft in which we had travelled from Barramula, so the same arrangements held good as those which we had adopted in our former boats. Our horses had been moved at once up to high hills, and they were in safety. To our repeated question, ‘What does all this mean?’ the answer was astounding. The river was rising from some unknown reason, and the great danger was that the embankment, which prevented the lake from overflowing its boundaries, might give way, and, if such an accident happened, the whole valley would be inundated. Yes, the river had already risen twenty feet, the green bank on which our tents had been pitched was gradually becoming covered with water. The path along which we had hurried was no longer visible. The flood was entering our old, rickety bungalow, and the walls soon collapsed like a building of cards. It was a strange and anxious position to be placed in, for there was nobody to tell us what to do; our real danger was unknown. My wife and M’Kay having made our big boat quite comfortable, we trusted ourselves to the care of Providence, whose good angels had watched over us in many an equally momentous adventure. The afternoon passed and the river was still rising. The rain, however, ceased, and evening became night. Our boats just floated on the waters. The moon rose in its splendour, and the stillness of the hour was only broken by the howling of homeless dogs, and that fearful sound--once heard, never to be forgotten--a house crumbling to the ground. Then all was quiet again, and we were left to imagine scenes of death and dismay, which in time proved to be too true.