FROM BUITENZORG TO TJI WANG I. 145
While he was busied with the pikulan, the cooly talked over the affairs of the Tuan Ingris (English gentleman) to a crowd of natives. Suddenly I heard the word kuda. Fortunately kuda (horse) was one of the words I knew: and I at once ordered the kuda to be brought. Half a dozen natives set off to find it. It turned out to be a very diminutive pony, but I was not prepared to criticize.
We set out from the inn under brighter auspices. The cooly slung my Gladstone bag at one end of the pikulan, and another small bag, with a big stone to balance, at the other. He moved with an elastic step, as if there was no greater pleasure in the world than carrying bags up mountain paths, and beat the kuda hands down.
Relieved of the fatigue of walking, I could admire the mountain scenery. As we climbed higher and higher, the stretches of green country grew more extensive, and the blue mountains seemed to grow loftier in the distance. Once over the saddle of the mountain, we descended rapidly