I may add that this intelligent official had _assisted me in the drying process up till midnight_.
There was no help for it; nothing to be done but cut off the damaged portion from the waist to the heels--no easy matter, for it was frozen as stiff as a board.

"It will make a better riding-jacket now," said Gerome, consolingly; "but this son of a pig shall not gain by it," he added, stamping the ruined remains into the now expiring fire.
The village of Patchinar, at the foot of the dreaded Kharzan Pass, was to be our halting-place for the night.

The post-road, after leaving Rustemabad, leads through the valley of the Sefid Roud river, in which, by the way, there is excellent salmon-fishing.

About six miles from Rustemabad is a spot called by the natives the "Castle of the Winds," on account of the high winds that, even in the calmest weather, prevail there.

Although, out on the plain, there was a scarcely perceptible breeze, we had to literally fight our way against the terrific gusts that swept through this narrow gorge.