falling rock. At Mile 46 we were held up for an hour until a ramp was made
over a bad slide, and the carriage and ekkas were unloaded and got across.
The landau looked for all the world like a great dead beetle surrounded by
ants, as, man-handled by a swarm of coolies, it was hauled, step by step,
over the improvised track. A landau is not at all a suitable or convenient
carriage for this sort of work, and had we guessed what was before us we
should most certainly have employed the handier tonga.

The road to-day, cut as it was out of the steep flank of the mountain, was
magnificent, but, in its present condition, nerve-shattering. Fallen
boulders and innumerable mud-slides constantly forced us to get out and
walk, while the sturdy little horses tugged the carriage through places
where the near wheels were frequently within a few inches of the broken
edge of the road, while far below Jhelum roared hungrily as he foamed by
the foot of a sheer precipice.

Reaching Chakhoti about four o'clock, we decided to remain there for the
night, as it was growing late and the weather looked gloomy and
threatening. Although we had only achieved a short stage of twenty-one
miles, there was no suitable place for a night's halt until Uri, distant
some thirteen miles and all uphill.

About half a mile above Chakhoti there is a rope bridge over the Jhelum,
and after tea we set forth to inspect it.

The river is here about 150 yards wide and extremely swift, and I confess
the means of crossing it, although practised with perfect confidence by
the natives, did not appeal to me.

From two great uprights, formed from solid tree-trunks, three strong ropes