to have it back. Then pushing the long pole deep into the water she slid her boat out into the lake again.
It was nearly dark when the party started home. Rhamon watched the sunset colors changing on the snowy mountains. As night came on he tried to count the stars reflected in the black water. The boat slid silently past the shadowy trees. Tiny lights appeared in the houseboats anchored by the shores. Sometimes the good smell of food cooking for the evening meal made Rhamon sniff and wrinkle up his little nose. He would like a big dish of spicy curry and some fluffy white rice.
How quiet everything was! Hardly a leaf stirred in the trees. There was no sound but the swi-i-i-ish! swi-i-ish! swi-i-i-ish! of the paddles and the drip of the water as it fell away from the blades.
Suddenly the stillness was broken by the rich voice of one of the boatmen. It was Ibrahim, singing an old Kashmir boat song. One by one
