The stream was strong and up to our knees, and level with the tonga floor, and the horses getting frightened began to jib.

The horses are changed every ten miles or so, and horrible and blood-curdling tales are extant of the villainy and wrong-headedness of some of these tonga ponies, how they jib for sheer pleasure, and leap over the low parapet that guards them from the precipice merely to vex the helpless traveller.

We decided to see for ourselves, so set forth about eleven, and soon came to the first bridge, the Amira Kadal, which carries the main tonga road into Srinagar, tying up just above it, amid the clamour and jabber of an idle crowd.