Saturday, April 20, 1929
This morning at nine we set out on the hot six or seven-mile walk to Mandore. The temples and cenotaphs lost much of their charm and air of mystery in the daylight, but the intricate design and carving, stonework, made up the loss. These monuments were built rather recently, about 1735 to 1850. Ganesh, the elephant god, is most in evidence.
We were not especially eager for the return hike in a noon sun. Good luck knocked and along came a bus for Jodhpur. The driver was the owner and took us in free of charge, depositing us at the door of the Dak Bungalow in time for lunch. I had not worn my glasses and the glare of the sun gave me a dandy headache which an aspirin failed to dispel. It is so dry here that your lips get dry and shrivelly. You keep drinking all the time. I had 6 cups of tea, 1 of coffee, 2 lemonades, 3 soda waters, and 5 large glasses of plain water. It sure knocked me cuckoo. When we had finished a long nap and had cold baths, we left on the 6:45PM train for Marwar Junction, arriving there at 11:15PM.
The next train to Abu Road left at 2:30AM, so we piled on some sacks of grain and knocked it off for three hours. Our train came and off we sailed. A few minutes later we discovered the knapsack had been left on the station platform. It contained our passports (which would have cost at least $35 to replace, per each), the guide book, and lots of odds and ends. The Bombay Mail tore on for about twenty miles, finally pulling up at a little station in the desert. Out we hopped, telephoned to Marwar Junction, and learned the police held it and would not send it on. We settled down for the night on the station platform, alias ground, Frank on a bench, Mort draped across the suitcases and a chair, and I on a coat on the ground, twisted around stones.