True, one can fish there from morning until night, if one is so disposed; and if one has the good fortune to be a botanist, there is an inexhaustible field open for study.

It is also true that Nampoung is only thirty miles or so, as the crow flies, from Bhamo, and when one has been in the wilds, and out of touch of civilization for months at a time, Bhamo is by no means a place to be despised.

So thought Gregory, of the 123rd Burmah Regiment, as he threw his line into the pool below him.
"It's worse than a dog's life," he said to himself, as he looked at the Ford a hundred yards or so to his right, where, at the moment, his subaltern was engaged levying toll upon some Yunnan merchants who were carrying cotton on pack-mules into China.

After that he glanced behind him at the little cluster of buildings on the hill, and groaned once more.

"I wonder what they are doing in England," he continued.
"Trout-fishing has just begun, and I can imagine the dear old Governor at the Long Pool, rod in hand.