nearly fell into the water while she gave directions. Garin was
silent and curious, and rather needed reassuring about Stanley
and Kasauli. So we rolled, barking and yelping, into Kalka for
lunch, and Garm ate enough for two.

After Kalka the road wound among the hills, and we took a
curricle with half-broken ponies, which were changed every six
miles. No one dreamed of a railroad to Simla in those days, for
it was seven thousand feet up in the air. The road was more than
fifty miles long, and the regulation pace was just as fast as the
ponies could go. Here, again, Vixen led Garm from one carriage to
the other; jumped into the back seat, and shouted. A cool breath
from the snows met us about five miles out of Kalka, and she
whined for her coat, wisely fearing a chill on the liver. I had
had one made for Garm too, and, as we climbed to the fresh
breezes, I put it on, and arm chewed it uncomprehendingly, but I
think he was grateful.

"Hi-yi-yi-yi!" sang Vixen as we shot round the curves;
"Toot-toot-toot!" went the driver's bugle at the dangerous
places, and "yow! yow!" bayed Garm. Kadir Buksh sat on the front
seat and smiled. Even he was glad to get away from the heat of
the Plains that stewed in the haze behind us. Now and then we
would meet a man we knew going down to his work again, and he
would say: "What's it like below?" and I would shout: "Hotter
than cinders. What's it like up above?" and he would shout back:
"Just perfect!" and away we would go.

Suddenly Kadir Buksh said, over his shoulder: "Here is Solon";
and Garm snored where he lay with his head on my knee. Solon is