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108 and with much difficulty two poor men were at last found, and promised fifty rupees each if they did well. The day before, too, I had noticed that our Nasar camel-men were more independent than usual; they were less obliging; refused to lend or sell their water-skins, or pretended they had none; showed no pleasure when addressed, or alacrity to do anything.

"Are we to halt to-morrow, Sahib?" said one of them to me the day before.

"Yes; but some of us are going up there," I replied, pointing to the line of watch-fires on the crest of the mountain.

"Not to-morrow, Sahib, I am sure," was the confident answer.

Both Nasars and Shiranis evidently expected that we should negotiate, or that there would be delay in taking such an ugly place; and, no doubt, the expectation was father to the thought. Though non-official India is on the whole well disposed to the British ráj, it nevertheless rejoices when we suffer checks or even disasters; and this feeling is naturally much stronger amongst "friendly" frontier tribes than British subjects.

As I re-entered camp, the Nasars everywhere rose and salámed, and came forward and offered smiling congratulations, water-skins, wood, grass, and anything they had or could get. The "friendly" Shiranis were positively enthusiastic, and thanked God that a score of those hill-robbers had been killed. "What fools," they kept on vociferating, "to fight against the Sarkar Angrez! What a pity their moolahs had not all been killed !"&c., &c. The colic-smitten were all well now; and that evening many of us had fresh fowls and fresh eggs to dinner, and fresh milk for our coffee.

It was not until 1 P.M. on the following day that a sufficient quantity of water had been conveyed in skins to the position taken from the Khyderzais, since designated the Pazai Bivouac, to warrant a push being made for the summit of the Suliman range. That peak was still nine miles distant; and although the route looked level enough from our eyrie, reconnaissance proved that it was bisected by numerous ravines which mules could not cross. The true Takht – Solomon's Throne – seemed in the clear atmosphere only a mile or two away, W.N.W. from us, right across the valley. We could distinguish a pathway and a stick with a rag attached to it, immediately below which was the wish-fulfilling seat – a mere ledge in a cleft of the rock. Here it was that King Solomon – so the legend ran – more than 2000 years before, had listened to the prayer of his Indian bride, and, alighting from his airborne chariot, had sat with the weeping girl on that ledge, as she cast one last fond look towards the plains of Hindustan. Since that time the spot has been sacred – first as a purely Hindu shrine, and then, after the collapse of Hinduism in those regions, before the triumphant advance of Islam, as a holy place for both Hindus and Mohammedans alike. Gratifying though it would have been to some of us to have sat where the many-wived Israelitish monarch is fabled to have rested with his dark-skinned bride, the spot being impracticable as a survey-station, and there being no time to spare, no attempt was made to reach it. Surveyors, followers, and escort – 250 sepoys armed and 250 unarmed, carrying water, cooked rations, and bedding – halted for the night at the foot of the shoulder of rock, the summit of which forms the highest point in the range. It was a beautiful spot, smooth and grassy, amidst a forest