The heat in the valleys was becoming oppressive, so we determined to move up to higher ground. We turned our steps, in the first place, towards Srinagur, there to make all arrangements for a protracted expedition. Baboo Mohas Chander strongly recommended us to retain the services of the Sepoy, so the Gascon captain remained with us. We left Srinagur by boats on a lovely moonlight night, and drifted down the Jhellum with little aid from our crew. The tinkling sound of zitaras, mingled with laughing voices, came on the breeze, and added to our enjoyment as we floated along, inhaling the perfume from the flowers in the gardens on the banks of the river. The grim old temples, black with age and decay, were softened in the moonlight, and the squalid wooden houses appeared almost cheerful as seen in that sweet evening hour. In the morning, we entered the Walloor Lake, and crossed over to our landing-place at Palhallan. The mosquitoes were more voracious than usual, and positively attacked our mosquito-nets in millions, but, baffled in their attempts to come through, they howled outside. From Palhallan we walked to Wangan, where the horses met us, they having come round by land. Our Gascon captain was in great force, and swaggered about, trying to get coolies. His moustache had an extra curl, and he proved--by his overbearing ways--a great addition to our importance, as every article of food was charged nearly double to us. Our other retainer was a chokedar, full of conceit, and what the Americans call _bounce_. When we landed at Palhallan, this man buckled on his sword, and swung my gun, in its leather-case, over his shoulder, arming himself also with a long pole, on which he fixed an old Union Jack belonging to me; and marched with pompous gravity in front of our party, greatly to our amusement, but not much to our edification.