We watched while peak after peak faded into cold greyness; until
Kangchenjunga towered, alone, rose-red into the heavens, sublime in
its "valorous isolation." Then the light left it too, and we turned
and came down from the Hill of God.

We left for Calcutta at noon on Monday, and I had a thoroughly
over-eaten, uncomfortable day, all owing to Boggley's forethought.
He said as we began breakfast about nine o'clock: "Now eat a good
breakfast, for we shall have to leave before lunch, and no man knows
when we shall get another meal."

It seemed good common-sense, so I ate an egg and two pieces of toast
after I had really finished. That was all very well, but the hotel
people thoughtfully provided us with a substantial luncheon before we
left. Even then Boggley kept on looking to the future.

"Oh, tuck in," he said. "We shan't get anything more till eight
o'clock."

I didn't feel as if I wanted anything ever again, but I hurriedly
gobbled some food, and we raced to the station, then sat in the train
half an hour before it started.

At the first station we stopped at, the bearer appeared at
the carriage window with a breakfast cup of tea and a large
"y-sponge-cake," ferreted from no man knows where. He was so pleased
with himself that I hadn't the heart to refuse it--so there were three
meals that ought to have been spread over the greater part of the day
crowded into one morning. I sympathized with the vulture, who