landscape to try for a village and help, while Hill remained to wrestle
with the tonga, which, however, remained obstinately immovable. We could
do nothing to mend matters, so we fled on, meeting Hunt, with a few
natives and a shovel, on his way back to the scene of action.

After an hour and a half of very anxious work, we emerged at dusk from the
wood, hoping our troubles were over. We could dimly see, and hear, through
the mist a stream below us; but, alas! no bridge was visible. I
commandeered a man from the first hut we came to, and tried by signs to
make him understand that he was to carry the lady across the river; but,
luckily, just as we reached the bank of what was a very nasty-looking
stream in full spate, the liberated tonga overtook us, and Jane was
bundled into it, while we three men waded. The stream was strong and up to
our knees, and level with the tonga floor, and the horses getting
frightened began to jib. Hill seized one by the head, and Jane was safely
drawn to shore and sent on her way under guidance of the driver, while we
tramped on in the dark until a second torrent barred our way. Here, in the
gloom, we made out the tonga empty, and stuck fast against the far bank.
It was all right though, for Jane had crawled out at the front and
wandered on in search of the dâk bungalow, leaving the driver squatting
helplessly beside the water.

It was so dark that she missed the bungalow, which stands a little above
the road, and struggled on till she came to a small cluster of native huts.
One of the inhabitants, on being boldly accosted, was good enough to point
out the way, and so the re-united party--tired, wet, and with no prospect
of dry clothing--took possession of the cheerless-looking dâk bungalow.
Things now began to improve. To our joy we found our ekkas with their
contents drawn up in the yard. And while a fire was being encouraged into
a blaze, and the lean fowl was being captured and slain on the back