“Chai, sahib.” Frank opened an eye, and there was Ungel with a welcome mug of tea in his hand. This was their routine 'bed-tea', with which they began each day. And today, when they had readied themselves, Ungel presented them with bowls of steaming porridge. They began descending, forever it seemed, down towards a river. They could see no way of crossing it, but a little way along from where they were standing they saw some villagers in mid-stream, shooting at fish with home-made arrows. They tried to wade across there, but the current made their crossing precarious and they were in danger of losing their balance. The fishermen came to their aid, steadying them with a firm grip on their arms as they escorted them across. They passed fountains of bamboos, springing from
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