| caption: |
running to escape down steep hillside |
| text: |
What happens in the next few minutes can only be explained by a sketch of the terrain but while the events occur I am not at all clear myself what is actually happening. As fast as I can I run down the slope, my rifle in one hand and the big basket with the heads over my shoulder. The three metre tall stalks of millet obstruct the vision although one can get ahead quite easily. (261) Next to me I see the dobashis, apart from Mills and Smith and only very few sepoys. While just a moment ago I had still thought that we would await the Pangsha men on the path and receive them with rifle shots, I now have the impression that we are fleeing and that everyone tries to get downhill as fast as his feet can carry him. |
