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As we dropped down the hills, the distant view of the plains reminded us that the cold weather had begun there too. The Brahmaputra was no longer the silver snake of the rains, but was (161) a drift of yellow sand and heavy clouds of dust hung over the whole valley. But it was still a clear crisp morning in the hills. The trees were alive with birds and I saw green barbets and green pigeons fluttering away as we approached. Suddenly a black and white creature, like a huge squirrel, leapt from branch to branch ahead of us. Kahutu was after it in a second, but it fortunately escaped him. |
