I carefully fulfilled his instructions.  Before I had finished rubbing his head he was drowsy, and when I took the vial from his nostrils he was sound asleep.  I placed the precious thing where he had told me, and arranged his limbs on the cushions.  Then I opened everything, and leaving the servant in charge went my way to my rooms.  On removing the silk and the wax which had protected me from the powerful drug, an indescribable odour which permeated my clothes ascended to my nostrils; aromatic, yet pungent and penetrating; I never smelt anything that it reminded me of, but I presume the compound contained something of the nature of an opiate.  I took some books down to Isaacs’ rooms and passed the evening there, unwilling to leave him to the care of an inquisitive servant, and five minutes before midnight I awoke him in the manner he had directed.  He seemed to be sleeping lightly, for he was awake in a moment, and his first action was to replace the vial in the curious safe.  He professed himself perfectly restored; and, indeed, on examining his bruise I found there was no swelling or inflammation.  The odour of the medicament, which, as he had said, seemed to be very volatile, had almost entirely disappeared.  He begged me to go to bed, saying that he would bathe and then do likewise, and I left him for the night; speculating on the nature of this secret and precious remedy.

* * * * *

CHAPTER IX.

The Himalayan tonga is a thing of delight.  It is easily described, for in principle it is the ancient Persian war-chariot, though the accommodation is so modified as to allow four persons to sit in it back to back; that is, three besides the driver.  It is built for great strength, the wheels being enormously heavy, and the pole of the size of a mast.  Harness the horses have none, save a single belt with a sort of lock at the top, which fits into the iron yoke through the pole, and can slide from it to the extremity; there is neither breeching nor trace nor collar, and the reins run from the heavy curb bit directly through loops on the yoke to the driver’s hands.  The latter, a wiry, long-bearded Mohammedan, is armed with a long whip attached to a short thick stock, and though he sits low, on the same level as the passenger beside him on the front seat, he guides his half broken horses with amazing dexterity round sharp curves and by giddy precipices, where neither parapet nor fencing give the startled mind even a momentary impression of security.  The road from Simla to Kalka at the foot of the hills is so narrow that if two vehicles meet, the one has to draw up to the edge of the road, while the other passes on its way.  In view of the frequent encounters, every tonga-driver is provided with a post horn of tremendous power and most discordant harmony; for the road is covered with bullock carts bearing provisions and stores to the hill station.  Smaller loads, such as trunks and other luggage, are generally carried by coolies, who follow a shorter path, the carriage road being ninety-two miles from Umballa, the railroad station, to Simla, but a certain amount may be stowed away in the tonga, of which the capacity is considerable.