and summer in the plains of Hindustan.

The road abounds in sharp turns, and I, as the heavier mount, rode on
the inside as we went round the mountain. On reaching the open part on
the farther side, we drew rein for a moment to look down at the deep
valleys, now dark with the early shade, at the higher peaks red with the
westering sun, and at the black masses of foliage, through which some
giant trunk here and there caught a lingering ray of the departing
light. Then, as we felt the cool of the evening coming on, we wheeled
and scampered along the level stretch, stirrup to stirrup and knee to
knee. The sharp corner at the end pulled us up, but before we had quite
reined in our horses, as delighted as we to have a couple of minutes'
straight run, we swung past the angle and cannoned into a man ambling
peaceably along with his reins on one finger and his large gray felt hat
flapping at the back of his neck. There was a moment's confusion,
profuse apologies on our part, and some ill-concealed annoyance on the
part of the victim, who was, however, only a little jostled and taken by
surprise.

"Really, sir," he began. "Oh! Mr. Isaacs. No harm done, I assure you,
that is, not much. Bad thing riding fast round corners. No harm, no
harm, not much. How are you?" all in a breath.

"How d'ye do! Mr. Ghyrkins; my friend Mr. Griggs."

"The real offender," I added in a conciliatory tone, for I had kept my
place on the inside.

"Mr. Griggs?" said Mr. Currie Ghyrkins. "Mr. Griggs of Allahabad? _Daily
Howler?_ Yes, yes, corresponded; glad to see you in the flesh."