Chapter 10 - Page 2

interested for a twelvemonth. Snow-clad needles of rock hemmed it
in on either side; great deodars rose like huge tapers on the hillsides;
the plants and flowers were a joy to look at. But Lady Meadowcroft did
not care for flowers which one could not wear in one's hair; and what
was the good of dressing here, with no one but Ivor and Dr. Cumberledge
to see one? She yawned till she was tired; then she began to grow
peevish.

"Why Ivor should want to build a railway at all in this stupid, silly
place," she said, as we sat in the veranda in the cool of evening,
"I'm sure _I_ can't imagine. We MUST go somewhere. This is maddening,
maddening! Miss Wade--Dr. Cumberledge--I count upon you to discover
SOMETHING for me to do. If I vegetate like this, seeing nothing all day
long but those eternal hills"--she clenched her little fist--"I shall go
MAD with ennui."

Hilda had a happy thought. "I have a fancy to see some of these Buddhist
monasteries," she said, smiling as one smiles at a tiresome child whom
one likes in spite of everything. "You remember, I was reading that book
of Mr. Simpson's on the steamer--coming out--a curious book about the
Buddhist Praying Wheels; and it made me want to see one of their temples
immensely. What do you say to camping out? A few weeks in the hills? It
would be an adventure, at any rate."

"Camping out?" Lady Meadowcroft exclaimed, half roused from her languor
by the idea of a change. "Oh, do you think that would be fun? Should
we sleep on the ground? But, wouldn't it be dreadfully, horribly
uncomfortable?"

"Not half so uncomfortable as you'll find yourself here at Toloo in a
few days, Emmie," her husband put in, grimly. "The rains will soon be
on, lass; and when the rains are on, by all accounts, they're precious
heavy hereabouts--rare fine rains, so that a man's half-flooded out of
his bed o' nights--which won't suit YOU, my lady."

The poor little woman clasped her twitching hands in feeble agony. "Oh,
Ivor, how dreadful! Is it what they call the mongoose, or monsoon, or
something? But if they're so bad here, surely they'll be worse in the
hills--and camping out, too--won't they?"

"Not if you go the right way to work. Ah'm told it never rains t'other
side o' the hills. The mountains stop the clouds, and once you're
over, you're safe enough. Only, you must take care to keep well in the
Maharajah's territory. Cross the frontier t'other side into Tibet,
an' they'll skin thee alive as soon as look at thee. They don't like
strangers in Tibet; prejudiced against them, somehow; they pretty well
skinned that young chap Landor who tried to go there a year ago."