ANOTHER CHULA—MOUNTAINS—A QUEER ILLUSION—STRANGE VOICES—WE FIND WE ARE DESCENDING—A TIBETAN CAMP—ESAU SENT AS AN AMBASSADOR—AN INVITATION.
The 1st of September was a dull morning with a very biting east wind, but our two invalids had been cured by means of Cockle\'s, and all of us felt relieved when we woke up to find we were on the right side of the river. I am afraid that our two sick men would not have recovered, had we delayed the crossing of the torrent the evening before. During our morning\'s march we kept close to the river\'s edge, which now flowed by majestically. In the latter half of the day the travelling was bad and toilsome, over a white, stony soil, abounding in unexpected quagmires, and enticing us further on to spongy, sloping ground, sliced up by innumerable nasty ragged nullahs. Even in this inhospitable stretch of land Lassoo found a hope of further good tidings in the shape of a chula, or mountain fireplace, apparently a month or two old.
Close to the river we quite unexpectedly hit upon a beautifully grassy spot, sheltered by some green hillocks from the incessant wind. It promised at sunset to turn out a bright, clear night, so as to afford us a chance of taking some latitudes, but clouds again began to gather around and eventually obscured every star, and produced a dim yet penetrating rain. This at daybreak was replaced by snow. Still we loaded up, and struggled along against the storm of 186 snow and sleet that blew against our faces and impeded our progress. Later on the sun forced a way through the unkindly clouds, and the snow was quickly melted into the soil. All our labour in drying our baggage was wasted, for everything was soaked with rain again as soon as we began our second march, over a country alternating with patches of grass and white stones. It was an impossibility to see for any distance, but we steered by the noise from the swollen river, till, just before dusk, all became clear again. Then we learnt the cause of the icy wind that had been persecuting us. There rose up north and north-east of us, forty or fifty miles away, some lofty, snow-capped mountains, a truly magnificent picture to gaze upon. A sunny morning was an agreeable change for us, and, added to the fine sight of the snows, compensated for the sterile and monotonous plains of white stones over which we continued our march.
The only life we saw was a large gathering of sand-grouse. So confident were we of shooting a sumptuous meal, that as we drew near to these birds we began to reckon how many of them our four barrels would account for. They, too, must have had their share of reckoning, for without giving us a chance, they with one accord took to wing and flew high and far away, irritating us with their well-known notes.
After proceeding for about four miles we came to a large heap of stones, conspicuous in this flat, open plain. It was an indication of man\'s presence at some time or other. There was no writing on any of the stones. From here we descended to a lower level in the bed of the river. On one of the adjacent hills I had noticed, through my glasses, actually a man with a little dog. Look as often as we might, still there was no mistaking their identity, yet we could scarcely realise the fact.
Whilst the meat was being prepared for breakfast, I went off to interview the stranger. The nearer I came the more 187 was I convinced that there really stood a man and his dog. Suddenly they disappeared from view, and fearing their escape I hastened my step, which soon brought me to within an easily recognisable distance, when, on the man with his little dog again showing themselves, I learnt that they were no other than two marmots.
After breakfast we heard what sounded like men shouting from the other side of the river. We all turned our eyes in the direction from whence it came, and, in spite of getting a good view, nothing was visible. We speculated as to what could possibly be the cause of the noise, for all had heard it, and, as is usual on these occasions, were none the wiser in the end. The only result was that there was considerable excitement amongst our little party. I have read of travellers hearing strange voices when traversing some of the deserts of Turkistan. Perhaps some of these phantoms who emitted those remarkable noises had wandered over into Tibet.
The monotonous plain we marched over in the afternoon seemed interminable, making the men wearier than the animals, for the going was firm and level. As soon as we had pitched our camp, clouds gathered around us from every quarter, and at length burst open with a violent thunderstorm. At such times we could do nothing more than lie down in our tent, and try to keep dry and look pleasant.
The day before yesterday the men had told us that they had meat left for five more days. We did not, therefore, trouble about shooting any of the kyang that happened to come and look at our camp, or to stalk any of the antelope we saw. After the storm had abated, they came to inform us that the meat was finished, not an uncommon state of affairs with us. It shows how difficult it was to provide for such unreasonable men, worthy as they were in most other respects. 188
We were beginning to think that, as we had marched so long and so far without seeing any living being, we must be the only people in existence. To any one who is anxious to avoid the police authorities, I can strongly recommend the Chang.
On the 4th of September we learnt from our own observations that we were actually at a lower altitude than Niagzu is, where we had last seen brushwood. We had unmistakably been descending ever since the great disaster befell our animals. After we had made our midday meal off the scrapings of a yak\'s tail we had carried for some days, and the carcass of a hare, we moved on again, still traversing the same kind of country.
Towards evening we found an old chula close by the river side, and, at no great distance from here, the ground whereon only a few months previously there must have been a fairly large encampment of nomads or merchants. From traces we found round and about, it was evident the caravan had consisted of camels and ponies; there were even the remains of a dead pony close by. We found the single horn of an antelope stuck into the ground, which was a convincing proof that the owners had possessed firearms. We saw also some pieces of string and odds and ends, which our men, of course, picked up. The caravan had evidently marched along the river we were following, for further on we found more camel droppings, but as to who they were and whence they had come from and where they were going, it was impossible to say. They benefited our little party by putting every one in the most hopeful and cheery frame of mind. Here were we at inhabitable altitudes, and we had seen unmistakable signs that told us that other people, too, had travelled in this part of the land.
There was much rain during the night. After loading up, Malcolm and I, separating, went ahead to do our 189 best to shoot some meat. Malcolm luckily wounded a kyang, and drove the animal to the spot where we had halted. His heart was soon cut out and hissing with the onions in the frying pan, and all fared sumptuously. We carried away sufficient donkey flesh to last our party three days, and proceeded over the same monotonous plain, which later on was relieved by some sandy hillocks. The men\'s spirits were kept from falling through the discovery of some more chulas. This encouraged them to weather the storm that enveloped us.
During the night at Camp 107 our mules had strayed, so that on the morning of the 6th of September all idea of making a double march had to be abandoned, especially as there was a steady downfall of rain. It was, in fact, 11 o\'clock before we were able to make a start, and at that hour a cold wind was blowing from the northern snows, and the day was altogether dull, heavy, and depressing; it awakened us to the realisation of our actual feelings. We became aware that we needed some little luxury, such as flour and salt. We seemed to be having rather a surfeit of our finds of wild donkey\'s flesh.
More than four months had elapsed since we had gaily cantered out of Leh post-haste. We longed to find somebody, and we would willingly have given a large sum for a loaf of bread. We wondered how it was that while our four men had of late been always nagging and quarrelling with one another over every little trifle, we ourselves had never disagreed for a minute. Our only solution was that there was nothing at all we could have argued about, for both our mi............