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‘There is a way up,’ he said, ‘to the top.’ The route, it seemed, was a pilgrims’ path. ‘It is called Durga,’ Eliot told me, ‘which is another name for the goddess Kali, and means in English “difficult of approach”. And so it is – which is why the brahmins give it such supreme value, for they say that the man who can scale it is worthy of glimpsing Kali herself. Only the greatest of ascetics have ever attempted it – only those who have purged themselves through decades of penance and meditation. When they have attained the state of readiness, they ascend the cliff. Many do not succeed; they return, and it is from them that I have heard of the difficulty of the way. But a few – just a few – manage it. And when they reach the summit – he paused – ‘when they have succeeded, then they are shown the Truth.’
    ‘The Truth? And what the devil would that be?’
    ‘We don’t know.’
    ‘Well, if these brahmins attain it, why ever not?’
    Eliot smiled faintly. ‘Because, Captain, they never come back.’
    ‘What, never}’
    ‘Never.’ Eliot’s smile faded as he stared up at the mountain front again. ‘So then,’ he murmured softly, ‘do you still want to go?’
    A wasted question indeed! Naturally I prepared to set off at once. I chose my fittest man, Private Haggard, and my strongest, Sergeant-Major Cuff; the rest I left behind to make sure of the Pass and await old Pumper, who I hoped would be approaching with his troops fairly soon. But in the meantime, with dawn still several hours off, I and my small band were already on our way. We clambered towards the far side of the Pass, over rocks at first and then, when the cliff started to rise sheer and featureless, up steps which had been carved out from the naked rock. ‘According to the brahmin,’ Eliot said, ‘these will lead to a plateau perhaps a quarter of the way up. We must cross that and then continue our ascent up the remainder of the mountain face.’
    Painfully, we began our ascent. The steps had been crudely carved and were often little more than toe-holds in the rock, sometimes vanishing altogether, so that it was pretty hard going and toughish on the legs. It was cold as well, and my legs began to cramp; after a couple of hours I started to think what fine soldiers the brahmins would have made, for they must all have been fitter men than we! I paused to draw my breath and Eliot, who was behind me, pointed to an outcrop of rock. The steps, I could see, twisted up across its face. ‘Once we’re over that,’ he shouted, ‘we’re past the worst. The plateau will be only a gentle climb away.’
    But goodness, did we have to earn that gentle climb first! It was virtually dawn by now, but in that bleak, exposed place the wind seemed more vicious than it had ever done, and it buffeted our bodies in screaming gusts as though trying to sweep us out into the sky which waited, blank and dark, below our swinging feet. It was a pretty grim experience; and then, just when I thought it could hardly grow more grim, I heard a scream. It was very faint, and then was lost on the shriek of the wind. I tensed, and Eliot too seemed to freeze against the rock. The wind fell and we heard a second scream, borne to us on a gust blowing up from the ravine. But beyond the ravine we couldn’t see; the outcrop we were crossing had intervened. My blood felt like ice now; to continue on my way, thinking only of where to place my fingers and my toes, to worry about myself and not my men, was the worst kind of ordeal, yet it had to be done; indeed, I did it faster perhaps than if I had never heard the screams. Once I had reached safety, I followed the path as it wound back across the rock-face; I looked down and saw the ravine yawning distantly below, yet not so far that I couldn’t see our tents. Remember too that it was almost dawn, growing lighter by the minute, and you will understand my consternation when I found that I couldn’t see any of my