note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustrations. see -h.htm or -h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h/ -h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/ / / / / / -h.zip) transcriber's note: minor punctuation errors have been corrected without notice. an obvious printer error has been corrected, and it is listed at the end. all other inconsistencies are as in the original. the author's spelling has been maintained. an explorer's adventures in tibet [illustration] [illustration] [illustration: the author, february, ] [illustration: the author, october, ] an explorer's adventures in tibet by a. henry savage landor author of "in the forbidden land" "the gems of the east" etc. etc. with illustrations by the author harper & brothers publishers new york and london mcmx copyright, , by harper & brothers all rights reserved published april, . printed in the united states of america contents chap. page preface vii i. a forbidden country ii. an unknown pass iii. a narrow escape iv. watched by spies v. warned back by soldiers vi. encounter with a high tibetan official vii. an exciting night journey viii. hungry fugitives ix. an attempt at mutiny x. among enemies and robbers xi. in strange company xii. among the lamas xiii. life in the monasteries xiv. another disaster xv. followed by tibetan soldiers xvi. first white man in the sacred province xvii. disaster at the river xviii. captured xix. threats of death xx. a terrible ride xxi. the executioner xxii. a charmed life xxiii. led to the frontier xxiv. with friends at last appendix illustrations the author _frontispiece_ involuntary tobogganing _facing p._ at night i led my men up the mountain in a fierce snow-storm " behind our bulwarks " the bandits laid down their arms " a natural castle " camp with gigantic inscriptions " torrential rain " tibetan women and children " purchasing ponies " i was a prisoner " dragged into the settlement " chanden sing being flogged " the ride on a spiked saddle " we attacked our guard with stones " cliff habitations " preface this book deals chiefly with the author's adventures during a journey taken in tibet in , when that country, owing to religious fanaticism, was closed to strangers. for the scientific results of the expedition, for the detailed description of the customs, manners, etc., of the people, the larger work, entitled _in the forbidden land_ (harper & brothers, publishers), by the same author, should be consulted. during that journey of exploration the author made many important geographical discoveries, among which may be mentioned: (_a_) the discovery of the two principal sources of the great brahmaputra river, one of the four largest rivers in the world. (_b_) the ascertaining that a high range of mountains existed north of the himahlyas, but with no such great elevations as the highest of the himahlyan range. (_c_) the settlement of the geographical controversy regarding the supposed connection between the sacred (mansarowar) and the devil's (rakastal) lakes. (_d_) the discovery of the real sources of the sutlej river. in writing geographical names the author has given the names their true sounds as locally pronounced, and has made no exception even for the poetic word "himahlya" (the abode of snow), which in english is usually misspelt and distorted into the meaningless himalaya. all bearings of the compass given in this book are magnetic. temperature observations were registered with fahrenheit thermometers. a. h. s. l. an explorer's adventures in tibet an explorer's adventures in tibet chapter i a forbidden country tibet was a forbidden land. that is why i went there. this strange country, cold and barren, lies on a high tableland in the heart of asia. the average height of this desolate tableland--some , feet above sea-level--is higher than the highest mountains of europe. people are right when they call it the "roof of the world." nothing, or next to nothing, grows on that high plateau, except poor shrubs and grass in the lower valleys. the natives live on food imported from neighboring countries. they obtain this by giving in exchange wool, borax, iron, and gold. high mountain ranges bound the tibetan plateau on all sides. the highest is the himahlya range to the south, the loftiest mountain range on earth. from the south it is only possible to enter tibet with an expedition in summer, when the mountain passes are not entirely blocked by snow. at the time of my visit the law of tibet was that no stranger should be allowed to enter the country. the tibetan frontier was closely guarded by soldiers. a few expeditions had travelled in the northern part of tibet, as the country was there practically uninhabited. they had met with no one to oppose their march save, perhaps, a few miserable nomads. no one, since tibet became a forbidden country to strangers, had been able to penetrate in the province of lhassa--the only province of tibet with a comparatively thick population. it was this province, the most forbidden of all that forbidden land, that i intended to explore and survey. i succeeded in my object, although i came very near paying with my life for my wish to be of use to science and my fellow-creatures. with the best equipment that money could buy for scientific work, i started for the tibetan frontier in . from bombay, in india, i travelled north to the end of the railway, at kathgodam, and then by carts and horses to naini tal. at this little hill-station on the lower himahlyas, in the north-west province of india, i prepared my expedition, resolved to force my way in the unknown land. naini tal is feet above the level of the sea. from this point all my loads had to be carried on the backs of coolies or porters. therefore, each load must not exceed fifty pounds in weight. i packed instruments, negatives, and articles liable to get damaged in cases of my own manufacture, specially designed for rough usage. a set of four such cases of well-seasoned deal wood, carefully joined and fitted, zinc-lined and soaked in a special preparation by which they were rendered water and air tight, could be made useful in many ways. taken separately, they could be used as seats. four placed in a row, answered the purpose of a bedstead. three could be used as seat and table. the combination of four, used in a certain manner, made a punt, or boat, of quick, solid, and easy construction, with which an unfordable river could be crossed, or for taking soundings in the still waters of unexplored lakes. the cases could be used as tanks for photographic work. in case of emergency they might serve even as water-casks for carrying water in regions where it was not to be found. each of these boxes, packed, was exactly a coolie load, or else in sets of two they could be slung over a pack-saddle by means of straps with rings. my provisions had been specially prepared for me, and were suited to the severe climate and the high elevations i should find myself in. the preserved meats contained a vast amount of fat and carbonaceous, or heat-making food, as well as elements easily digestible and calculated to maintain one's strength in moments of unusual stress. i carried a . mannlicher rifle, a martini-henry, and cartridges duly packed in a water-tight case. i also had a revolver with cartridges, a number of hunting-knives, skinning implements, wire traps of several sizes for capturing small mammals, butterfly-nets, bottles for preserving reptiles in alcohol, insect-killing bottles (cyanide of potassium), a quantity of arsenical soap, bone nippers, scalpels, and all other accessories necessary for the collection of natural-history specimens. there were in my outfit three sets of photographic cameras, and a dozen dry plates, as well as all adjuncts for the developing, fixing, printing, etc., of the negatives. i had two complete sets of instruments for astronomical observations and for use in surveying. one set had been given to me by the royal geographical society of london. the other was my own. each set consisted of the following instruments. a six-inch sextant. the hypsometrical apparatus, a device used for measuring heights by means of boiling-point thermometers, which had been specially constructed for work at great elevations. it is well known that the higher one goes, the lower is the temperature at which water boils. by measuring the temperature of boiling water and at the same time the temperature of the atmosphere at any high point on a mountain, and working out a computation in relation to the boiling-point temperature of a given place on the sea-level, one can obtain with accuracy the difference in height between the two points. two aneroid barometers were also carried, which were specially made for me--one registering heights to , feet, the other to , feet. although i used these aneroids principally for differential heights along my route, as aneroids cannot always be relied upon for great accuracy, i found on checking these particular instruments with the boiling-point thermometers that they were always extremely accurate. this was, however, exceptional, and it would not do for any one to rely on aneroids alone for the exact measurement of mountain heights. there were in my outfit three artificial horizons--one with mercury, the others constructed with a plate glass. the latter had a special arrangement by which they could be levelled to a nicety. i found that for taking observations for latitude and longitude by the sun the mercury horizon was satisfactory, but when occultations had to be taken at night the plate-glass horizons were easier to work, and gave a more clearly defined reflection of stars and planets in such a bitterly cold climate as tibet, where astronomical observations were always taken under great difficulty. the most useful instrument i carried on that expedition was a powerful telescope with astronomical eyepiece. necessarily, i carried a great many compasses, which included prismatic, luminous, floating, and pocket compasses. maximum and minimum thermometers were taken along to keep a record of the daily temperature, and i also took with me a box of drawing and painting materials, as well as all kinds of instruments for map-making, such as protractors, parallel rules, tape rules, section paper, note-books, etc. i had water-tight half-chronometer watches keeping greenwich mean time, and three other watches. in order to work out on the spot my observations for latitude and longitude, i had with me such books as _raper's navigation_ and the _nautical almanac_ for the years and , in which all the necessary tables for the computations were to be found. i was provided with a light mountain tent, usually called a _tente d'abri_; it was seven feet long, four feet wide, and three feet high; it weighed four pounds. all i needed in the way of bedding was one camel's-hair blanket. my clothing was reduced to a minimum. my head-gear was a mere straw hat, which was unfortunately destroyed at the beginning of my journey, so that i went most of the time with my head uncovered or else wore a small cap. i wore medium thick shoes without nails, and never carried a stick. it was largely due to the simplicity of my personal equipment that i was able to travel with great speed often under trying circumstances. although the preparations for my expedition cost me several thousand dollars, i spent little money on medicines for myself and my men; in fact, all they cost me was sixty-two cents (two shillings and sixpence). i am firm in the belief that any healthy man living naturally under natural conditions, and giving himself plenty of exercise, can be helped very little by drugs. i started from naini tal and rode to almora ( feet above sea-level), the last hill-station toward the tibetan frontier where i expected to find european residents. at this place i endeavored to obtain plucky, honest, wiry, healthy servants who would be ready, for the sake of a good salary and a handsome reward, to brave the many discomforts, hardships, and perils my expedition into tibet was likely to involve. scores of servants presented themselves. each one produced a certificate with praises unbounded of all possible virtues that a servant could possess. each certificate was duly ornamented with the signature of some anglo-indian officer--either a governor, a general, a captain, or a deputy commissioner. what struck me mostly was that bearers of these testimonials seemed sadly neglected by those who had been so enthusiastically pleased with their services. they all began by begging, or else asked, for a loan of rupees in order to buy food, clothes, and support the dear ones they would be leaving behind. i was sitting one day in the post resting-house when an odd creature came to offer his services. "where are your certificates?" i asked. "_sahib, hum 'certificates' ne hai_" (sir, i have no certificates). i employed him at once. his facial lines showed much more character than i had noticed in the features of other local natives. that was quite sufficient for me. i am a great believer in physiognomy and first impressions, which are to me more than any certificate in the world. i have so far never been mistaken. my new servant's dress was peculiar. his head was wrapped in a white turban. from under a short waistcoat there appeared a gaudy yellow and black flannel shirt, which hung outside his trousers instead of being tucked in them. he had no shoes, and carried in his right hand an old cricket-stump, with which he "presented arms" every time i came in or went out of the room. his name was chanden sing. he was not a skilful valet. for instance, one day i found him polishing my shoes with my best hair-brushes. when opening soda-water bottles he generally managed to give you a spray bath, and invariably hit you in the face with the flying cork. it was owing to one of these accidents that chanden sing, having hurt my eye badly, was one day flung bodily out of the door. later--as i had no more soda water left--i forgave him, and allowed him to return. it was this man who turned out to be the one plucky man among all my followers. it was he who stood by me through thick and thin during our trials in tibet. from almora up to what is usually called bhot (the country upon the himahlya slopes on the british side of the frontier) our journey was through fairly well-known districts; therefore, i shall not dwell on the first portion of our route. i had some thirty carriers with me. we proceeded up and down, through thick forests of pine and fir trees, on the sides of successive mountain ranges. we went through the ancient gourkha town of pithoragarh, with its old fort. several days later i visited the old rajah of askote, one of the finest princes northern india then possessed. i went to see the raots, a strange race of savages living, secluded from everybody, in the forest. in a work called _in the forbidden land_ a detailed description will be found of my experiences with those strange people, and also of our long marches through that beautiful region of the lower himahlyas. we reached at last a troublesome part of the journey--a place called the nerpani, which, translated, means "the waterless trail." few travellers had been as far as this point. i shall not speak of the ups and down at precipitous angles which we found upon the trail, which had been cut along the almost vertical cliff. here and there were many sections of the trail which were built on crowbars thrust horizontally into the rock. a narrow path had been made by laying over these crowbars large slabs of stone not particularly firm when you trod over them. as you went along this shaky path on the side of the precipice the drop down to the river at the bottom of the cliff was often from to feet, and the path in many places not wider than six inches. in other places the nerpani trail consisted of badly put together flights of hundreds of steps along the face of the cliff. chapter ii an unknown pass it was at a place called garbyang, close to the tibetan boundary, that i made my last preparations for my expedition into tibet. a delay at this place was inevitable, as all the passes over the himahlya range were closed. fresh snow was falling daily. i intended to cross over by the lippu pass, the lowest of all in that region; but having sent men to reconnoitre, i found it was impossible at that time to take up my entire expedition, even by that easier way. i had a tibetan tent made in garbyang. dr. h. wilson, of the methodist evangelical mission, whom i met at this place, went to much trouble in trying to get together men for me who would accompany me over the tibetan border. his efforts were not crowned with success. the thirty men i had taken from india refused to come any further, and i was compelled to get fresh men from this place. the shokas (the local and correct name of the inhabitants of bhot) were not at all inclined to accompany me. they knew too well how cruel the tibetans were. many of them had been tortured, and men could be seen in garbyang who had been mutilated by the tibetans. indeed, the tibetans often crossed the border to come and claim dues and taxes and inflict punishment on the helpless shokas, who were left unprotected by the government of india. [illustration: involuntary tobogganing] the jong pen of taklakot, a high official at the tibetan frontier, upon hearing of my proposed visit, sent threats that he would confiscate the land of any man who came in my employ. he sent messengers threatening to cut off my head if i crossed the boundary, and promised to flog and kill any man who accompanied me. on my side i had spies keeping me well informed of his movements. he kept on sending daily messengers with more threats. he gathered his soldiers on the lippu pass, where he suspected i might enter his country. before starting with my entire expedition i took a reconnoitring trip with only a few men, in order to see what tactics i should adopt in order to dodge the fanatical natives of the forbidden land. to go and find new ways on virgin mountains and glaciers was not easy work. during our rapid scouting journey we had a number of accidents. going over a snow-slope one day i slipped and shot down a snow-slope with terrific speed for a distance of three hundred yards, just escaping getting smashed to pieces at the end of this involuntary toboganning. one of my carriers, who carried a child on the top of one of my loads, had a similar accident, with the result that the child was killed. on returning to garbyang i found that the tibetans had tried to set the natives against me. tibetan spies travelled daily between taklakot and garbyang, in order to keep the jong pen informed of my movements. the jong pen sent an impudent messenger one day to say that he had plenty of soldiers guarding the lippu pass, and that he would kill us all if we came. if he caught me alive he would cut off my head; my body, he said, he would sew in skins and fling into the river. i sent a messenger back to the jong pen to inform him that i was ready to start, and that i would meet him on the lippu pass; that he had better beware, and get out of my way. the messenger who brought him this news barely escaped with his life. he returned to me, saying that the jong pen was preparing for war, that he had gathered all his soldiers on the top of a narrow pass, where they had piled up a great number of large rocks and smaller ammunition to be rolled down upon us when we should be coming up the mountain-side. having collected men enough, after much trouble, i one day unexpectedly mustered them, and that same night made a sudden start. the tibetans, suspecting that i might be leaving that day, cut down the bridge over a rapid and deep torrent forming the boundary between india and nepal. this inconvenienced me, as i had to find my way on our side of the stream, which was very rugged. this gave us additional trouble. some of the precipices we had to cross were extremely dangerous. i reached the highest village in the himahlyas, a place called kuti, at an elevation of , feet. here i hastily made my final preparations for the last dash across the frontier. every available shoka had joined my party, and no inducement brought more volunteers. i needed two extra men. two stray shepherds turned up half famished and naked, with long, unkempt heads of hair, and merely a coral necklace and a silver bangle by way of clothing. with these two men my little force was brought up to thirty strong. one of the two shepherds interested me. he was sulky. he seldom uttered a word, and when he did, he never spoke pleasantly. he looked painfully ill. motionless, he would sometimes stare at a fixed point as if in a trance. his features were peculiarly refined and regular, but his skin had the ghastly, shiny, whitish tinge peculiar to lepers. i paid no special attention to him at first, as i was busy with other matters; but one day while on the march i examined him carefully, and discovered that the poor fellow had indeed all the symptoms of that most terrible of all diseases, leprosy. his distorted and contracted fingers, with the skin sore at the joints, were a sad and certain proof. i examined his feet, and found further evidence that the man was a leper. "what is your name?" i inquired of him. "mansing," he said, dryly, becoming immediately again absorbed in one of his dreamy trances. in looking over my followers i was amused to see what a strange mixture they were. there were humlis and jumlis, mountain tribesmen living near the tibetan border; they wore their long black hair tied into small braids and a topknot. there were tibetans, shokas, rongbas, nepalese--all good mountaineers. then there were chanden sing and mansing belonging to the rajiput caste. there were a brahmin, two native christians, and a johari. then doctor wilson. what a collection! what a confusion of languages and dialects! an amusing feature of this odd crowd was that each particular caste looked down upon all the others. this, from the beginning, occasioned a good deal of trouble among my men. i was glad of this, as it seemed a sort of guarantee that they would never combine against me. one of the most peculiar men i had with me was a tibetan brigand, a man with the strength of an ox. his history did not bear a close examination. he had killed many people. he asked to be employed by me, as he had quarrelled with his wife, and refused to live with her any longer. in camp he went by the name of _daku_ (the brigand). the son of one of the richest traders of garbyang, a young fellow called kachi, also accompanied me. he was intelligent, and could speak a few words of english. i had employed him to look after the men and to act as interpreter, if necessary. his uncle dola was employed in the capacity of valet and cook. instead of proceeding by the lippu pass, where the jong pen was waiting for me with his men, i made forced marches from kuti in a different direction altogether. i meant to cross over by a high untrodden pass, practically unknown, where no one could suspect that a caravan would enter tibet. my men were good. we marched steadily for several days over very rough country, getting higher and higher toward the eternal snows. we suffered considerably in crossing the rapid and foaming torrents. they were often quite deep, and the water was so cold from the melting snows that we were nearly frozen each time we waded through them. we crossed several large flat basins of stones and gravel which appeared to have been lake-beds. in these basins we found deltas, formed by the stream dividing in various directions. we suffered tortures in crossing barefooted one cold stream after another. some of my men narrowly escaped frost-bites, and it was only after rubbing their feet violently that the intense pain ceased and circulation was at last restored. the soles of my feet and my toes were badly cut and bruised. every stone in the streams seemed to have a sharp edge. i, too, suffered agony after i had been in the water for some time. never until that day did i know what a great comfort it was to possess a pair of warm socks! the last basin we crossed was at an elevation of , feet. we made our camp there. the thermometer registered a minimum temperature of °, whereas the maximum temperature that day was ° fahrenheit. one of the main drawbacks of travelling at great elevations was the want of fuel. there was not a tree, not a shrub, to be seen near our camp. nature wore her most desolate and barren look. failing wood, my men dispersed to collect and bring in the dry dung of yaks, ponies, and sheep to serve as fuel. kindling this was no easy matter. box after box of matches was quickly used, and our collective lung-power severely drawn upon in blowing the unwilling sparks into a flame a few inches high. upon this meagre fire we attempted to cook our food and boil our water (a trying process at great elevations). the cuisine that night was not of the usual excellence. we had to eat everything half-cooked, or, to be accurate, practically uncooked. the night was a bitterly cold one, and snow was falling heavily. when we rose in the morning snow was two feet deep around us. the glare was painful to our eyes. i mustered my men. mansing was missing. he had not arrived the previous night, and there was no sign of the man i had sent in search of him. i was anxious not only for the man, but for the load he carried--a load of flour, salt, pepper, and five pounds of butter. i feared that the poor leper had been washed away in one of the dangerous streams. he must, at any rate, be suffering terribly from the cold, with no shelter and no fire. it was long after sunrise when, with the aid of my telescope, i discovered the rescued man and rescuer coming toward us. they arrived in camp an hour or so later. mansing had been found sound asleep, several miles back, lying flat by the side of the empty butter-pot. he had eaten all the butter. when we discovered this every one in camp was angry. the natives valued fat and butter as helping to keep them warm when going over those cold passes. with much trouble i rescued mansing from the clutches of my other men, who wanted to punish the poor leper severely. in order that this might not happen again, i ordered mansing to carry a heavy load of photographic plates and instruments, which i thought would not prove quite so appetizing. while we were camping a flock of some six hundred sheep appeared, and with them some tibetans. as i had pitched my tibetan tent, they made for it, expecting to find some of their own countrymen. their confusion was amusing when they found themselves face to face with doctor wilson and myself. hurriedly removing their fur caps, they laid them upon the ground and made a comical bow. they put out their tongues full length, and kept them so until i made signs that they could draw them back, as i wanted them to answer several questions. this unexpected meeting with us frightened them greatly. they were trembling all over with fear. after getting as much information as they seemed to have, i bought their fattest sheep. when the money was paid there was a further display of furred tongues, and more grand salaams when they departed, while all hands in my camp were busy trying to prevent our newly purchased animals from rejoining the flock moving away from us. on our next march these animals were a great trouble. we had to drag them most of the way. kachi, who had been intrusted with a stubborn, strong beast, which i had specially promised my men for their dinner if they made a long march that day, was outwitted by the sheep. it freed its head from the cord with which kachi was dragging it, and cantered away full speed in the opposite direction to the one in which we were travelling. it is well known that at great altitudes running is a painful operation, for the rarefied air makes such exertion almost suffocating. yet kachi, having overcome his first surprise, was soon chasing the escaped beast, and, urged by the cheers of my other men, succeeded, after an exciting race, in catching the animal by its tail. this feat is easier to describe than to accomplish, for tibetan sheep have very short, stumpy tails. kachi fell to the ground exhausted, but he held fast with both hands to his capture, and finally the animal was secured with ropes. climbing over rolling ground, we rose to a pass , feet high--over a thousand feet higher than pike's peak, in colorado. then crossing a wide, flat land, we followed the kuti river, with its high, snowy mountains to the west and east. the line of perpetual snow was at , feet; the snow below this level melted daily, except in a few shaded places. red and white flowers were still to be seen, though not in such quantities as lower down. we saw many pairs of small butterflies with black-and-white wings. after a while there was yet another bitterly cold stream to ford, two small lakes to skirt, and three more deep rivers to wade, with cold water from the snows reaching up to our chests. we had to make the best way we could through a large field of iron-bearing rock, which so affected my compass that for the time it became quite unreliable, owing to its deviation. mile after mile we marched over sharp stones, wading through another troublesome delta fully a mile in width with eight streams, and crossing a flat basin of pointed pebbles. at last, to our great comfort, we came to smooth grass-land. here the kuti river flowed through a large basin, not unlike the one near which we had camped the night before. it looked like the bed of a lake, with high vertical rocks on the left. as we went on to the north-west the basin became wider and the kuti river turned to the north-west, while the mangshan river, descending from the east, joined the first stream in the centre of the basin. in wading through the numerous branches of the two rivers we felt more than ever the trials and weariness of the day before. the water seemed colder than ever. our feet were by this time in a dreadful condition, bleeding and sore, because it was constantly necessary to walk barefooted rather than keep removing our foot-gear every few minutes. aching and chilled, we stumbled on, in and out of the water, always treading, it seemed, on sharply pointed stones. the pain had to be borne patiently. at last we reached our camping-ground, situated under the lee of the high chain of mountains to the north of us and on the northern bank of the mangshan river. directly in front of us stood the final obstacle--the great backbone of the himahlyas. once across this range, i should be on the high tibetan plateau so accurately described as "the roof of the world." chapter iii a narrow escape from kuti i had sent a sturdy shoka named nattoo to find out whether it was possible to cross the himahlyan chain over the high mangshan pass. in case of a favorable report, i should be able to get several marches into tibet without fear of being detected. i reckoned on turning the position occupied by the force of soldiers which i was informed the jong pen of taklakot had gathered on the lippu pass in order to prevent my entering his country. before the tibetans could have time to find where i was, i should be too far into the forbidden land for them to catch me up. nattoo duly returned. he had been half-way up the mountain. the snow was deep, and there were huge and treacherous cracks in the ice. an avalanche had fallen, and it was merely by a miracle that he had escaped with his life. he had turned back without reaching the summit of the pass. he was scared and worn out, and declared it was impossible for us to proceed that way. the thrilling account of the kutial's misfortunes discouraged my men. what with the intense cold, the fatigue of carrying heavy loads at high elevations over such rough country, and the dreaded icy-cold rivers which they had crossed so often, my carriers became absolutely demoralized at the thought of new hardships ahead. i did not believe nattoo. i determined to go and see for myself. it was half-past four in the afternoon, and therefore some little time before sunset. there should be moonlight. i had on that day marched eight miles. it must be remembered that at high elevations the effort of walking eight miles would be as great as to walk twice as far at lower altitudes. though my feet were wounded and sore, i was not tired. our camp was at a height of , feet, an elevation higher than the highest mountain in europe. doctor wilson insisted on accompanying me on my reconnoitring trip. kachi ram and a rongba coolie also volunteered to come. bijesing, the johari, after some persuasion, got on his feet to accompany our little exploration party. chanden sing was left in charge of the camp, with strict orders to punish severely any one who might attempt to escape during my absence. we set out, following up-stream the course of the mangshan river boxed in between high cliffs which finally met at the glacier at the foot of the mangshan mountain, about three miles east-south-east of our camp. it was very hard to walk over the large, slippery stones, where one's feet constantly slipped and were jammed between rocks, straining and hurting the ankles. since i did not trust my demoralized followers, who seemed on the verge of mutiny, i did not care to leave behind in camp the heavy load of silver rupees (r. ) sewn in my coat. i always carried that sum on my person, as well as my rifle, two compasses (a prismatic and a luminous), two aneroids, one half-chronometer and another watch, and some thirty rifle cartridges. the combined weight of these articles was considerable, and on this particular afternoon it was almost too much for my strength. we travelled up and down the series of hillocks, and in and out of the innumerable channels that centuries of melting snow and ice had cut deep into the mass of loose stones. at the point where the two ranges met there stood before us the magnificent pale-green ice-terraces of the mangshan glacier, surmounted by great snow-fields rising to the summit of the mountain range. clouds enveloped the higher peaks. the clear ice showed vertical streaks, especially in the lower strata, where it was granulated. the base, the sides, and top of the exposed section were covered with a thick coat of snow. the mangshan river rose from this glacier. we left the glacier ( , feet above sea-level), to the right, and, turning sharply northward, began our ascent toward the pass. the snow we struggled over was so soft and deep that we sank into it up to our waists. occasionally there was a change from snow to patches of loose débris and rotten rock. the fatigue of walking on such a surface was simply overpowering. having climbed up half a dozen steps among the loose, cutting stones, we would slide back almost to our original point of departure, followed by a small avalanche of shifting material that only stopped when it got to the foot of the mountain. at a height of , feet we walked for some time on soft snow, which covered an ice-field with deep crevasses and cracks. we had to feel our way with great caution, particularly as by the time we reached that spot we had only the light of the moon to depend upon. as we rose higher, i began to feel a curious exhaustion that i had never experienced before. at sunset the thermometer which kachi carried had fallen ° within a few minutes, and the sudden change in the temperature seemed to affect us all. we went on, with the exception of bijesing, who was seized with such violent mountain sickness that he was unable to proceed. the doctor, too, a powerfully built man, was suffering considerably. his legs, he said, had become like lead, and each seemed to weigh a ton. the effort of lifting, or even moving, them required all his energy. although he was gasping pitifully for breath, he struggled on bravely until we reached an elevation of , feet. here he was overcome with exhaustion and pain, and he was unable to go further. kachi ram, the rongba, and i went ahead, but we also were suffering, kachi complaining of violent beating in his temples and loud buzzing in his ears. he gasped and staggered dangerously, threatening to collapse at any moment. at , feet he fell flat on the snow. he was instantly asleep, breathing heavily and snoring convulsively. his hands and feet were icy cold. what caused me more anxiety than anything was the irregular beating and throbbing of his heart. i wrapped him up in his blanket and my waterproof, and, having seen to his general comfort, i shouted to the doctor (the voice in the still air carrying for a long distance) telling him what had happened. i pushed on with the rongba, who was now the only one of the party who had any strength left. a thick mist suddenly enveloped us, which added much to our trials. after we left kachi at , feet we made desperate efforts to get on. our lungs seemed about to burst, and our hearts throbbed as if they would beat themselves out of our bodies. exhausted and weighed down by irresistible drowsiness, the rongba and i at last reached the summit. almost fainting with fatigue, i registered my observations. the altitude was , feet, the hour p.m. there was a strong, cutting north-easterly wind. the cold was intense. i was unable to register the exact temperature, as i had forgotten to take my thermometer out of kachi's pocket when he collapsed. the stars were wonderfully brilliant, and when the mist cleared the moon shone brightly for a while over the panorama around me. though it was a view of utter desolation, it was certainly strangely attractive. the amount of snow on the northern slope of the range was greater than on the southern. i realized the impossibility of taking my entire expedition over this high point. below me, to the south, were mountainous ranges buried in snow, and to the south-west and north-east were peaks even higher than the one where i stood. to the north stretched the immense, dreary tibetan plateau with undulations and intricate hill ranges, beyond which a high mountain range with snow-peaks could just be perceived in the distance. i had barely taken in this beautiful view of nature asleep when the mist again rose before me, and i saw a huge ghost rising out of it. a tall, dark figure stood in the centre of a luminous circle wrapped in an enormous veil of mist. the effect was wonderful. it was only after some moments that i realized that the ghost had my features, and that i stood in the centre of a circular lunar rainbow, looking at an enlarged reflection of myself in the mist. when i moved my arms, my body, or my head the ghost-like figure moved also. i felt very much like a child placed for the first time in front of a mirror, as i made the great image move about and repeat any odd motion that i might make. on a later occasion i saw a spectre, when the sun was up, with a circular rainbow round it. the moonlight effect differed from this, in that the colors of the rainbow were but faintly distinguishable. the rongba had fallen exhausted. i felt so faint with the unusual pressure on my lungs that, despite all the efforts to resist it, i also collapsed on the snow. the coolie and i, shivering pitifully, shared the same blanket in order to keep warm. both of us were seized with irresistible sleepiness. i fought hard against it, for i well knew that if my eyelids once closed they would almost certainly remain so forever. the rongba was fast asleep. i summoned my last atom of vitality to keep my eyes open. the bitter wind hissed by us. how that hiss still echoes in my ears! the rongba crouched down, moaning through chattering teeth. his sudden shudders showed that he was in great pain. it seemed only common charity to let him have the entire blanket, which was in any case too small for both. i wrapped it tightly round his head and his doubled-up body. the exertion was too much for me. in absolute exhaustion i fell back on the snow. i made a last desperate effort to look at the glittering stars ... my sight became dim.... how long this semi-consciousness lasted i do not know. "this is terrible! doctor! kachi!" i tried to speak. my voice seemed choked in my throat. was what i saw before me real? on the vast white sheet of snow kachi and the doctor lay motionless, like statues of ice, as if frozen to death. in my nightmare i tried to raise them. they were rigid. i knelt beside them, calling them, and striving with all my might to bring them back to life. half dazed, i turned to look for bijesing, and, as i did so, all sense of vitality seemed to freeze within me. i saw myself enclosed in a quickly contracting tomb of transparent ice. i felt that i, too, would shortly be frozen to death like my companions. my legs, my arms, were already icy. horror-stricken as i was at the approach of such a ghastly death, i felt a languor and sleepiness far from unpleasant. should i let myself go, choosing rest and peace rather than effort, or should i make a last struggle to save myself? the ice seemed to close in more and more every moment. i was suffocating. i tried to scream, to force myself through the ice, which seemed to crush me. i gave a violent plunge. then everything vanished ... the frozen kachi, the doctor, the transparent tomb.... i opened my eyes. they ached as if needles had been stuck into them. it was snowing hard. i had temporarily lost the use of my legs and fingers. they were almost frozen. in waking up from the ghastly nightmare, i realized instantly that i must get down at once to a lower level. i was already covered with a layer of snow. it was snowing hard when i woke, and i suppose it was the cold snow on my forehead that caused my nightmare. it is quite probable that, had it not been for the sudden shudder which shook me free, i should never have awakened. i sat up with difficulty, and slowly regained the use of my lower limbs by rubbing and beating them. i roused the rongba, rubbed him, and shook him till he was able to move. we began our descent. undoubtedly the satisfaction of going up high mountains is great, but can it ever be compared to the delight of coming down again? the incline being extremely steep, we took long strides on the snow. when we came to patches of débris we slid down at a great pace amid a deafening roar from the huge mass of loose stones set in motion by our descent. it was still snowing. "hark!" i said to the rongba. "what is that?" with hands up to our ears we listened attentively. "_ao, ao, ao! jaldi ao! tumka hatte?_" (come, come, come! come quickly! where are you?) cried a faint, distressed voice from far down below. we quickened our pace. with hardly any control over our legs our descent was precipitous. the snow-fall ceased, and we became enveloped in a freezing thick mist which pierced into our very bones. guided by the anxious cries of the doctor, we continued our breakneck journey downward. the cries became more and more distinct, and at last we came face to face with wilson, still helpless. he had been uneasy about us, and during our long absence had quite given us up for lost. we looked for and found kachi. he had slept like a top, curled up in his warm blanket and my waterproof coat. he was now quite refreshed. all together we continued our race downward with no serious mishaps. life and strength gradually came back to us when we descended to lower heights. over the same trying stony valley we reached camp in the morning. the anxiety of my men in camp was intense. they had lost all hope of seeing us again. chapter iv watched by spies a few hours' rest, a hearty meal, and by a.m. we were ready again to start, this time with the entire expedition, over the easier lumpiya pass. the thermometer registered ° inside the tent. the minimum temperature outside, during the night, had been °. we followed the kuti river at the foot of the mountain range. on rounding a prominent headland, where the kuti river flowed through a narrow passage, we saw on a mound fourteen stone pillars and pyramids with white stones on them and some tibetan "flying prayers," mere strips of cloth flapping in the wind. it was from this point that the ascent of the lumpiya pass began. our route gradually ascended, going north-west first, then swinging away to the north-east, until we attained an elevation of , feet on a flat basin covered with deep snow. so far we had gone on with no great trouble, but matters suddenly changed for the worse. each coolie in the long silent row at the head of which i marched sank in snow up to his knees, often up to his waist. their dark faces, wrapped tightly round in turbans, stood out in sharp contrast upon the white background. some wore fur caps with ear-flaps. all had sheepskin coats and high boots. many used snow-spectacles. watching this silent procession of men with heavy loads upon their backs, struggling higher and higher with piteous panting, one could not help wondering anxiously as to how many of them would return to their own country alive. moving cautiously to avoid treacherous crevasses, i made my way ahead to a spot six hundred feet higher, where i halted for a while on a rocky island fairly clear of snow. as coolie after coolie arrived panting hard, he dropped his load and sat quietly by the side of it. there was not a grumble, not a word of reproach for the hard work they were made to endure. sleet was falling, and everything was wet and cold. from this point there was a steep pull before us. to the left we had a glacier, the face of which was a precipitous wall of ice about one hundred feet in height. like the mangshan glacier, it was in horizontal strata of beautifully clear ice with vertical stripes of dark green. the doctor and i went ahead. in our anxiety to reach the summit we mistook our bearings. with great fatigue we climbed an extremely steep incline. here we were on a patch of troublesome loose stones, on which we struggled for over half an hour, until we reached the summit of the range, , feet--considerably higher than the pass itself. most of the other men had proceeded by a dangerous way skirting the glacier. the wind from the north-east was piercing, and the cold intense. from this high point we obtained a beautiful bird's-eye view of the tibetan plateau. huge masses of snow covered the tibetan side of the himahlyas, as well as the lower range of mountains immediately in front of us, lying almost parallel to our range. two thousand feet below, between these two ranges, flowed, in a wide barren valley, a river called the darma yankti. this river is the principal source of that great river which afterward takes the name of sutlej. i was glad to be the first white man to visit the place where it has its birth. in the distance a flat plateau, rising some eight hundred feet above the river and resembling a gigantic railway embankment, could be seen for many miles. far away to the north stood a chain of high blue mountains capped with snow--undoubtedly the gangri chain with the kelas peaks. the strain of exertion in this rarefied air brought about a painful incident. exhausted from cold and fatigue, a man called rubso, a christian convert, was seized with cramp. he was lying in a semi-conscious state, his teeth chattering, his features distorted and livid; his eyes were sunken and lifeless. we carried him under the shelter of a rock and rubbed him vigorously, endeavoring to restore his circulation. he eventually recovered enough to come along. from our high point we now had to descend to the pass six hundred feet lower. we made our way along dangerous rocks and débris. i was clinging, with half-frozen fingers, to a prominent rock when i heard screams of distress from below. on the steep incline of snow two coolies, with their respective loads, having lost their footing, were sliding at an incredible speed. they finally reached the bottom of the basin, where the change in the descent made them turn involuntary somersaults, while their loads flew off in every direction. i was relieved when i saw the men getting up again. one of them staggered, and fell back a second time as if dead. hastening over the slippery rocks, and then down over loose stones, i reached the pass. this was , feet above the sea. two reluctant men were sent to the relief of the coolie in distress. he and his load were at last carried up to the place where i was. he had been badly shaken and was aching all over, but was able to continue with us. we hurried down the steep slope on the tibetan side, to get away quickly from the bitterly cold, windy pass. describing a wide curve, and then across several long snow-beds, we at last reached the river-level, and pitched our tents on snow at an elevation of , feet. there was no wood; no yak or pony dung, no lichens, no moss, and therefore nothing with which we could make a fire. my men believed that eating cold food at high elevations, when the temperature was low, led to certain death. they preferred to remain without food altogether. night came, and with it the wind blowing in gusts, and piling the grit and snow around our tents. in the night, when a hurricane was raging, we had to turn out of our flapping canvasses several times to make the loosened pegs firmer. refastening the frozen ropes was icy-cold work. at a.m. the thermometer was down to °; at a.m., in the sun, it went up to °, and inside the tent at the same hour we had a temperature of °--freezing-point. in a hurricane of grit and drenching rain we packed our traps as best we could and again started. to my surprise, as i was marching ahead of my men, i noticed, some two hundred yards from my former camp, a double line of recent footmarks in the snow. those coming toward us were somewhat indistinct and nearly covered with grit; those going in the opposite direction seemed quite recent. after carefully examining these footprints, i became certain that they had been left by a tibetan. where the footprints were nearest our camp, marks in the snow showed that the man had at different points laid himself flat on the snow. we had evidently been spied upon and watched during the night. my men, who were already showing fear of the tibetans, were now all anxiously stooping over these footprints. some of them thought that the stranger must be a _daku_ (a brigand), and that at night we should be attacked by the whole band; others maintained that the spy could only be a soldier sent by the gyanema officers to watch our movements. this incident was held by them as an evil omen. we were travelling on flat or slightly rolling barren ground. we waded across another cold river with water up to our waists. my men became so tired that one mile further we were obliged to halt. the elevation of this point was , feet. the cold was intense. again we had no fuel of any kind. a furious wind was blowing. snow fell heavily in the evening. my carriers, half starved, ate a little _satoo_ (a kind of oatmeal), but chanden sing, a rajiput, could not, without breaking his caste, eat his food without undressing. it was two days since he had eaten his last meal, but rather than break the rules of his religion, or take off his clothes when it was so cold, he chose to curl up in his blanket and go to sleep fasting. inside the tent the temperature was ° fahrenheit, or below freezing-point. there was a foot of snow upon the ground, and it was snowing heavily. the carriers, huddled close together so as to keep warm, attempted to sleep in order to forget their hunger. two or three hours later the weather cleared. the coolies, half starved, came to complain that they were again unable to find fuel to cook their food, and that they would leave me. it was a trying time. i immediately took my telescope and climbed to the top of a small mound. it was curious to see how much faith the coolies had in this spy-glass. they believed, in a child-like fashion, that with it i could see through mountains. i came down with the good news that one day's march beyond would bring us to a spot where fuel was plentiful. they cheerfully hastened to pack up the loads, and set forth with unusual energy in the direction i had pointed out. we followed a course parallel to the high, flat plateau on the other side of the stream. this snow-covered plateau extended from south-west to north-east. beyond it to the north could be seen some high, snowy peaks--in all probability the lofty summits south-east of gartok. to our right we were flanked by high, rugged mountains, with streams here and there dashing down their sides. six hours' brisk marching took us to a sheltered spot where a few lichens and shrubs were growing. if we had suddenly descended into the black forest of germany or the yosemite valley with their gigantic trees centuries old, our delight could not have been greater, yet the tallest of these shrubs stood no higher than six or seven inches from the ground, while the biggest piece of wood we collected was no larger around than an ordinary pencil. with all possible haste all hands went to work to root up these plants for fuel. when night came the same number of hands were busy cooking and swiftly ladling out such steaming food as was available from the different pots to the mouths of the famished coolies. happiness reigned in camp. all recent hardships were forgotten. a fresh surprise was awaiting us when we rose. two tibetans disguised as beggars came to our camp. they pretended to be suffering from cold and starvation. i gave orders that they should be properly fed and kindly treated. on being cross-examined they confessed that they were spies sent by the officer at gyanema to find out whether a white man had crossed the frontier, and whether we had seen him. we had so many things to attend to in the morning, and it was so cold, that washing had really become a nuisance. i, for my part, gave it up, at least for the time. we were sunburnt, and we wore turbans and snow-glasses, so the tibetans departed under the impression that our party consisted of a hindoo doctor, his brother, and a caravan of servants (none of whom had seen a white man), and that we were now on a pilgrimage to the sacred mansarowar lake and kelas mount. in the presence of the men we treated this as a great joke, but, all the same, wilson and i anxiously consulted as to our immediate plans. should we make a rapid march during the night over the mountain range to our right, and strike east by the wilds, or should we face the gyanema leader and his soldiers? we decided to meet them rather than go out of our way. i gave orders to break camp at once. chapter v warned back by soldiers we altered our course from north to north-east, rising to , feet. we arrived at lama chokten, a pass protected by a tibetan guard. the soldiers quickly turned out, matchlocks in hand. they seemed a miserable lot. they offered no resistance, but begged for money and food. the men complained of ill-treatment from their superiors. they received no pay, and even food was only occasionally sent to them at this outpost. their tunics were in rags. each man carried a sword stuck in front through the girdle. here, too, we had more inquiries about the young sahib, the white man. messengers on horseback had been sent post-haste from taklakot to warn the gyanema officer not to let him penetrate into hundes (the tibetan name for tibet) should he attempt to come by the lumpiya pass. their description of my supposed appearance was amusing enough to me, and when they said that if the sahib came their way they would cut off his head, i felt so touched by their good-natured confidence that i wanted to distribute a few rupees among them. "don't give them anything, sir," said kachi and the doctor. "these fellows are friends of the dacoits. if these get to know that you have money, we shall run great risk of being attacked by them." i insisted on giving them a present. "no, sir," cried kachi; "do not do it, or it will bring us trouble and misfortune. if you give them four annas, that will be ample." accordingly the commanding officer had this large sum deposited in his outstretched palm. to show his satisfaction, he put out his tongue to its full length, waved both hands in sign of gratitude, bowing clumsily at the same time. his fur cap had been previously removed and thrown on the ground. it was a great deal of ceremony over a gift which amounted to somewhat less than eight cents. from this place i saw a beautiful sight. to the north the clouds had scattered, and the snow-covered sacred kelas mountain rose up before us. not unlike the graceful roof of a temple, kelas towered over the long, white-capped range, contrasting in its beautiful blending of tints with the warm sienna color of the lower elevations. kelas was some two thousand feet higher than the other peaks of the gangri chain. it showed strongly defined ledges and terraces marking its stratification, and these were covered with horizontal layers of snow of brilliant white in contrast to the dark, ice-worn rock. the tibetans, the nepalese, the shokas, the humlis, jumlis, and hindoos, all had a strong veneration for this mountain, which was believed by them to be the abode of all the good gods, especially the god siva. in fact, the ledge round its base was said by the hindoos to be the mark of the ropes used by the devil "rakas" in his effort to pull down the throne of siva. my men, with heads uncovered, their faces turned toward the sacred peak, were muttering prayers. with joined hands, which they slowly raised as high as the forehead, they prayed fervently, and then went down on their knees, with heads touching the ground. my brigand follower, who was standing close by me, hurriedly whispered that i should join in the prayers. "you must keep friends with the gods," said the bandit; "misfortune will attend you if you do not bow to kelas. that is the home of a good god!" and he pointed to the peak with the most devout air of conviction. to please him, i saluted the mountain with great deference, and, imitating the example of my men, placed a white stone on one of the _choktens_ or _obos_ (stone pillars). hundreds of these had been erected at this place by devotees. these obos, or rough pyramids of stones, were to be found on the paths over high passes, near lakes, and at the source of rivers. at no place had i seen so many as at lama chokten. each passer-by deposited a white stone on one of these obos. this was supposed to bring good fortune. the guard-house itself, of rough stone, would in any country but tibet be recognized as better fitted for pigs than for human beings. having gone a mile or so further, as the sun was fast disappearing we searched for a suitable spot to pitch our tents. there was no sign of water, only the stony bed of a dried rivulet. we were discussing the situation when we heard a faint sound of rushing water. it grew louder and louder, and then we saw coming our way a stream of limpid snow-water gradually creeping over a bed of stones. evidently the snow of the mountains, which had melted during the day, had only now reached the spot where we stood. my brigand was greatly excited. "water flowing to you, sahib!" he exclaimed, with his arms outstretched. "you will have great luck! look! look! you want water for your camp, and a stream comes to you! heaven blesses you. you must dip your fingers into the water as soon as it comes up to you, and throw some drops over your shoulders. fortune will then attend you on your journey." i readily fell in with this tibetan superstition. we all dipped our fingers and sprinkled the water over our backs. wilson, however, who took the matter quite seriously, said it was all nonsense, and would not give in to such "childish superstitions." in front of our camp was a great stretch of flat alluvial land, about ten miles long and fourteen wide, which apparently had once been the bed of a lake. with my telescope i could see at the foot of a small hill the camping-ground of karko. there were many tents. my men seemed reassured when by their shape and color we made out the tents to be those of joharis from milam, who came over to this place to trade with the tibetans. beyond karko to the north a stretch of water, the gyanema lake, shone brilliantly, and beyond it could be seen comparatively low hill ranges. in the distance more snowy peaks were visible. on leaving camp we traversed the plain for six miles in a north-easterly direction, and then turned into a smaller valley well enclosed by hills, which we followed for a distance of three or four miles. during our march we saw many herds of _kiang_ (wild horse). they came close to us. they resembled zebras, except that they were light brown in color. their graceful and coquettish ways were most attractive. the natives regarded the proximity of these animals as dangerous, for their apparent tameness was merely in order to get quite near the unwary traveller, and then, with a sudden dash, inflict a horrible bite. having climbed over a hill range, we descended on the other side into a grassy stretch of flat land with a lake on the northern side. on a hill south of the lake stood the gyanema fort, a primitive, tower-like structure of stone, with a tent pitched over it to answer the purpose of a roof. two dirty white rags hung from a flagstaff. these were not national flags, but merely wind-prayers. lower down, at the foot of the hill, were two or three large black tents and a small shed of stone. hundreds of black, white, and brown yaks[ ] were grazing on the green patches of grass. the appearance of our party evidently frightened everybody, for we had hardly shown ourselves on the summit of the pass when in the fort a gong began to sound loudly, filling the air with its metallic notes. a shot was fired. soldiers with their matchlocks[ ] ran here and there. they pulled down one of the black tents and hastily conveyed it inside the fort. the greater part of the garrison sought shelter within the walls of the fort with the hurry almost of a stampede. when, after some time, they made up their minds that we did not mean to hurt them, some of the tibetan officers, followed by their men, came trembling to meet us. the doctor, unarmed, went ahead to talk to them, while chanden sing and i remained with the coolies in order to protect our baggage in case of a treacherous attack, and to prevent my frightened carriers from abandoning their loads and escaping. matters looked peaceful enough. rugs were spread on the grass, and finally we all sat down. an hour of tiresome talking with the tibetan officers, while the same things were repeated over and over again, led to nothing. they said they could on no account allow any one from india, whether native or sahib, to proceed, and we must go back. we, on our side, stated that we were doing no harm. we were pilgrims to the sacred lake of mansarowar, only a few miles farther. we had gone to much expense and trouble. how could we now turn back when so near our goal? we would not go back, and trusted they would allow us to proceed. we treated them courteously. probably mistaking this for fear, they promptly took advantage of it, especially the magbun, the general-in-chief in charge of the gyanema fort. his humble manner, of which at first he had made so much display, suddenly turned into arrogance. "you will have to cut off my head," said he, with a vicious countenance, "or, rather, i will cut off yours, before i let you go another step." "cut off my head!" i cried, jumping on my feet and shoving a cartridge into my rifle. "cut off my head!" repeated chanden sing, pointing with his martini-henry at the official. "cut off our heads!" exclaimed the brahmin, angrily, and the two christian servants of dr. wilson, while they handled a winchester and a couple of gourkha _kukris_ (large knives). "no, no, no, no! salaam, salaam, salaam!" shouted the magbun, with the quickness of a panic-stricken man. "salaam, salaam," repeated he again, bowing down to the ground, tongue out, and placing his hat at our feet in a disgustingly servile manner. "let us talk like friends." the magbun's men, no braver than their master, shifted about in a casual manner, so as to be behind their superior officers in case of our firing. on second thought, feeling that they were not safe even so screened, they got up. one after the other the tibetans walked away for half-a-dozen steps slowly, to impress upon us that it was not fear that made them leave, and then took to their heels. the magbun and the officers who remained became meek. we spoke and argued in a friendly manner for two long hours, but with no result. the magbun could not decide of his own accord. he would consult with his officers, and he could give us an answer no sooner than the next morning. in the mean time he would provide for our general comfort and insure our safety, if we would encamp near his tent. this, of course, i well knew to be a trick to gain time, so as to send for soldiers to barca, north of the rakastal lake, as well as to all the neighboring camps. i frankly told him my suspicions, but added that i wished to deal fairly with the tibetan authorities before resorting to force. i reminded the magbun again and made him plainly understand that we were merely peaceful travellers, and had not come to fight; that i was paying tenfold for anything i purchased from him or his men, and was glad to do so; but at the same time, let any one beware who dared touch a single hair of a member of my party! the magbun declared that he understood perfectly. he swore friendship, and as friends he begged us to stop over the night near his camp. by the sun and kunjuk sum (trinity) he gave a solemn oath that we should in no way be harmed. he took humble leave of us and retired. the doctor and i had been sitting in front. next were chanden sing, the brahmin, and the two christians. the carriers were behind. when the magbun had gone, i turned round to look at my followers. what a sight! they one and all were crying, each man hiding his face in his hands. kachi had tears streaming down his cheeks, dola was sobbing, while the brigand and the other tibetan in my employ, who had for the occasion assumed a disguise, were hiding behind their loads. serious though the situation was, i could not help laughing at the fright of my men. we pitched our tents. i had been sitting inside, noting the observations which i had taken with my instruments and writing up my diary, when kachi crept in, apparently in great distress. he seemed so upset that he could hardly speak. "master!" he whispered. "master! the tibetans have sent a man to your coolies threatening to kill them if they remain faithful to you. they must abandon you during the night. if you attempt to hold them they have orders to kill you." at the same time that this agent had been sent to conspire with my coolies, other envoys of the magbun brought into my camp masses of dry dung to make our fires. these men conveyed to me again the magbun's renewed declarations of friendship. nevertheless, soldiers were sent in every direction by the tibetan official to call for help. i saw them start. one messenger went toward kardam and taklakot, a second proceeded in the direction of barca, a third galloped to the west. my carriers were evidently preparing to leave me. i watched them, unseen, through an opening in the tent. they were busily engaged separating their blankets and clothes from my loads, dividing the provisions among themselves, and throwing aside my goods. i went out to them, patiently made them repack the things, and warned them that i would shoot any one who attempted to revolt or desert. while the doctor and i sat down to a hearty meal, chanden sing was intrusted with the preparations for war on our side. he cleaned the rifles with much care, and got the ammunition ready. he was longing to fight. the brahmin, on whose faithfulness we could also rely, remained cool and collected through the whole affair. he was a philosopher, and never worried over anything. he took no active part in preparing for our defence, for he did not fear death. god alone could kill him, he argued, and all the matchlocks in the country together could not send a bullet through him unless god wished it. and if it be god's decree that he should die, what would be the use of rebelling against it? the two converts, like good christians, were more practical, and lost no time in grinding the huge blades of their _kukris_, in order to make them as sharp as razors. when darkness came i placed a guard a little distance off our camp. it seemed likely that the tibetans might make a rush on our tent if they had a chance. one of us kept watch all night outside the tent, while those inside lay down in their clothes, with loaded rifles by their side. i cannot say that either dr. wilson or i felt very uneasy, for the tibetan soldiers, with their clumsy matchlocks, long spears, and jewelled swords and daggers, were more picturesque than dangerous. footnotes: [footnote : a kind of ox with long hair.] [footnote : old muskets fired by a fusee, with a prong to rest the barrel on.] chapter vi encounter with a high tibetan official early the next morning we were roused by the distant sound of tinkling horse-bells. on looking out of the tent i saw a long row of pack-ponies heavily laden, escorted by a number of mounted soldiers with matchlocks and spears. it was evident that some high official was coming. this advance-guard consisted of his inferior officers and baggage. they took a long sweep far away from our tent, and dismounted at the gyanema fort. other soldiers and messengers were constantly arriving in groups from all directions. the leader of one party, with a large escort of soldiers, was received with profuse salaams. i concluded that he must be an important person. after some time a message was sent to us that this new-comer, the barca tarjum, wished to have the honor of seeing us. his rank might be described as that of a feudal prince. we replied that we were having our breakfast, and that we would send for him when we wished to speak to him. our experience had taught us that it was better to treat tibetan officials as inferiors, as they were then more subdued and easier to deal with. at eleven, we sent a messenger to the fort, to say we should be pleased to receive the tarjum. he came immediately with a large following. he was a picturesque figure dressed in a long coat of green silk of chinese shape, with large sleeves turned up, showing his arms up to the elbow. he had a cap similar to those worn by chinese officials, and he was shod in heavy, long black boots, with large nails under the soles. his long, pale, angular face was remarkable in many ways. it was dignified and full of repose. though somewhat weak, his features were rather fine. long hair fell in loose curls down to his shoulders. hanging from his left ear was a large ear-ring, with malachite ornaments and a pendant. in his nervous fingers he held a small roll of tibetan material, which he used with both hands as a handkerchief. he blew his nose inconsequently every time he was at a loss to answer a question. the tarjum and his men were profuse in their bows, and there was, as usual, a great display of tongues. we had rugs placed outside our principal tent. the doctor and i sat on one, asking the tarjum to sit on the one facing us. his followers squatted around him. it is a well-known fact that in tibet, if you are a "somebody," or if you wish people to recognize your importance, you must have an umbrella spread over your head. fortunately the ever-prudent doctor had two, and these were duly spread over our respective heads. the tarjum himself was shaded under a parasol of colossal dimensions, held in position by his secretary. in spite of the extravagant terms of friendship which fell from the tarjum's lips, i was convinced, by studying the man's face, that his words were insincere, and that it would be unsafe to trust him. he never looked us straight in the face. his eyes were fixed on the ground all the time, and he spoke in an unpleasantly affected manner. i did not like the man from the very first, and, friend or no friend, i kept my loaded rifle on my lap. after long, heavy speeches, clumsy compliments, and tender inquiries on the state of health of all relatives they could possibly think of, after repeated blowing of the nose and loud coughing, which always came on when we asked whether they had yet decided what we should be allowed to do, at last, when my patience was nearly exhausted, our negotiations of the previous day were reopened. we argued for hours. we asked to be allowed to go on. they were still uncertain whether they would let us or not. to simplify matters, and hasten their decision before other reinforcements arrived, the doctor applied for permission to let only eight of us proceed to mansarowar. he (the doctor) himself would remain at gyanema with the rest of the party, as a proof of good faith. even this offer they rejected, not directly, but with hypocritical excuses and delays. they thought we could not find our way, and that if we did we should find it rough and the climate too severe; that brigands might attack us, and so on. all this was tiresome. the tibetans were even getting unpleasant. i decided to bring matters to a crisis. still holding the rifle cocked at safety on my lap, i turned the muzzle of it toward the tarjum, and purposely let my hand slide down to the trigger. he became uncomfortable. his face showed signs of apprehension. his eyes, until now fixed on the ground, became first unsteady, and then settled fixedly, with a look of distress, on the muzzle of my rifle. he tried to dodge the aim, right or left, by moving his head. i made the weapon follow his movements. the tarjum's servants fully shared their master's fear. without doubt the poor fellow was in agony; his tone of voice, a moment before loud and insulting, now became very humble. with much meekness he expressed himself ready to please us in every way. "i see that you are good people," said he, in a faint whisper accompanied by a deep bow. "i cannot give, as i should like, my official approval to your journey forward, but you can go if you wish. i cannot say more. eight of you can proceed to the sacred mansarowar lake. the others will remain here." before giving his final decision, he said that he would prefer to have another consultation with his officers. we granted this readily. the tarjum then presented the doctor with a roll of tibetan cloth. i had bathed in the morning, and my turkish towel was spread outside the tent to dry. the tarjum, who showed great interest in all our things, took a particular fancy to its knotty fabric. he sent for his child to see this wonderful material, and when he arrived the towel was placed on the youth's back as if it were a shawl. i at once offered it to him as a present if he would accept it. there were no bounds to his delight, and our relations, somewhat strained a few minutes earlier, became now of the friendliest character. we invited the party inside our tent, and they examined everything with curiosity, asking endless questions. they were now quite pleasant, and even amusing. tibetans have a craving for alcohol. they soon asked if i had any to give them; there was nothing they would like more. as i never carry intoxicants, i could not offer whiskey, wine, or beer; but, not wishing to disappoint them, i produced a bottle of methylated spirit[ ] (which i used as fuel in my hypsometrical[ ] apparatus). this they readily drank, apparently liking its throat-burning-qualities. they even asked for more. the tarjum complained of an ailment from which he had suffered for some time. the doctor was able to give him a suitable remedy. all officers received small presents. then they departed. in the afternoon a messenger came from the barca tarjum. he had good news for us. the tarjum wished us to understand that, "as we had been so kind to him and his followers, he regarded us as his personal friends. as we were so anxious to visit the mansarowar lake and the great kelas mount, and had already experienced many difficulties and great expense in coming so far, he agreed that eight of our party should proceed to these sacred places. it was impossible for him to give an official consent, but he repeated again that we could go if we wished." this news naturally delighted me. once at kelas, i felt sure i could easily go further. on the same evening a traitor in our camp sneaked from under the tent in which my men were sleeping and paid a visit to the tarjum. there is no doubt that he told him i was not the doctor's brother nor a hindoo pilgrim. he disclosed that i was a sahib, and that i was on my way to lhassa. from what i heard afterward, it seemed that the tarjum did not quite believe his informant; but, fresh doubts arising in his mind, he sent a message in the night, entreating us to return the way we had come. "if there is really a sahib in your party, whom you have kept concealed from me, and i let you go on, my head will be cut off by the lhassa officials. you are now my friends, and you will not allow this." "tell the tarjum," i replied to the messenger, "that he is my friend, and i will treat him as a friend." in the morning we found thirty horsemen, fully armed, posted about one hundred yards from our tent. to go ahead with my frightened men and be followed by this company would certainly bring trouble. it was better to adopt other tactics. much to the astonishment of the armed force and their superiors, the doctor, chanden sing, and i, rifles in hand, walked firmly toward the company of soldiers. after us came the trembling coolies. the magbun and the tarjum's officers could hardly believe their eyes. the soldiers quickly dismounted and laid their weapons down, to show that they had no intention of fighting. we passed without taking notice of them. the magbun ran after me. he begged me to stop one moment. a pair of prettily embroidered cloth boots were produced from the loose folds of the official's coat, and he offered them to me with the following words: "though your face is sunburnt and black, and your eyes are sore" (they were not, as a matter of fact, but i wore snow-spectacles), "your features tell me that you are of good family. you must be a high officer in your country. your noble feelings also show that you would not have us punished for your sake, and now our hearts are glad to see you retrace your steps. let me offer you these boots, so that your feet may not get sore on the long and difficult journey back to your native land." it was neatly put, though the mode of reasoning was peculiar. i accepted the boots. the magbun and his guard salaamed to the ground. without further parleying we left the magbun, and, retracing our steps, proceeded in a west-south-west direction, as though we had decided to turn back and leave the country. we reached the summit of the hill and crossed to the other side. my men went on down the slope, but i remained, hidden behind a large stone, to observe with my telescope the people at gyanema. no sooner had my last man disappeared on the other side of the pass than the cavalrymen jumped into their saddles, and, raising clouds of dust, galloped after us. this was what i had expected. i hastened to rejoin my men. when down in the plain, i again took my telescope and watched the sky-line of the hill we had just descended. some thirty heads could be seen peeping over the rocks from among the boulders. the soldiers had evidently dismounted and were spying our movements. i felt annoyed that they did not openly follow us. i sighted my rifle to eight hundred yards, lay down flat, and took aim at a figure i could see more plainly than the others. the doctor snatched the rifle from my shoulder. "you must not shoot," said he, with his usual calmness; "you might kill somebody." "i only wish to teach those cowards a lesson." "that is all very well. but every man in tibet is so cowardly that the lesson would have to be constantly repeated," answered wilson, with his unfailing wisdom. i slung my rifle over my shoulder, and made up my mind to start some other time on the great task i had then so nearly begun. when we had covered a mile or so of the plain our ghostly escort crossed the pass, and came full gallop down the hill. i gave orders to my men to halt. the soldiers also came to a dead stop. i watched them through the telescope. they seemed to be holding a discussion. at last five men rode full speed northward, probably to guard the track in that direction. three men remained where they were, and the remainder, as if seized by panic, galloped frantically up the hill again and disappeared over the summit. we resumed our march. the three horsemen followed a course one mile south of ours, close against the foot of the hills. lying low upon their ponies' heads, they probably imagined that they were passing us unperceived. seeing that our bearings were for our old camp at lama chokten, they left our line and rode ahead of us. when, in the evening, we reached lama chokten two shepherds came to greet us. then another appeared. "our sheep are far away," said they. "we are hungry. we are poor. can we stop near your camp and pick up the food that you will throw away?" "certainly," i replied. "but mind you do not pick up anything else." these simple people, thinking i should not know them, had left their ponies at the lama chokten guard-house, and, disguised as shepherds, were now trying to make friends with us, with the object of discovering our movements. they were, of course, the three sepoys from gyanema in disguise. at each step in our retreat toward the himahlyas my heart became heavier. i was thinking out fresh plans, but to think out plans and to carry them into effect were two different matters. how many times had my schemes been upset! how often had i been forced to begin afresh when all seemed to point toward success! now things had changed altogether for the worse. my chances of success, notwithstanding my constant struggle, were getting smaller and smaller every day. failure stared me in the face. at this camp the _daku_ (brigand), who had changed his disguise several times since coming in contact with the tibetans, announced his immediate departure. the doctor, with his usual kindness, had already begged him to remain, but without avail. we well knew that in this region, infested by robbers, this man was only leaving us to become a robber again. the _daku_ knew that i carried a large sum of money. during the last two days his behavior had been more than strange. had he come across some of his mates, or had he heard from the soldiers that they were in the neighborhood? the _daku_ had a bundle of blankets strapped on his back in readiness to leave me. my men, distressed at this new danger, came to report it to me. i sent for him. speaking bluntly, and keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, he said: "i am going, sahib." "where?" i inquired. "i have friends near here, and i am going to them." "very good, go," i replied, calmly taking up my rifle. his load was off his shoulders in less time than it takes to tell of it. he resumed his work as usual. one or two other riotous coolies were brought back to reason in a similar manner. i heard later that a band of brigands attacked a party of traders near the frontier two days after this occurred. another painful march back! we went a few miles and encamped on the bank of a rapid stream, the shirlangdu. from this point, with some difficulty, it would be possible to climb over the mountain range during the night, and attempt to elude the spies and watchmen by crossing the mountains as far as lake mansarowar. i made up my mind to attempt this. it seemed to add to the risk to have so large a following as thirty men, so i decided that only four or five should accompany me. going alone was impossible, because of the difficulty of carrying sufficient food. nevertheless, if the worst came to the worst, i resolved to attempt going absolutely alone and rely on the chance of obtaining food from tibetans. all the loads were rearranged. articles of clothing and comfort, niceties in the way of food, and extras in the way of luxuries were left behind to make room for my scientific instruments. each pound in weight dedicated to science meant a pound less food to take us to lhassa. everything that was not strictly necessary had to be left behind. two tibetan spies came to camp in the afternoon in the disguise, as usual, of beggars. they asked for food and insisted upon it. their manner was unbearably insulting. this was a little too much for us. bijesing, the johari, and rubso, the christian cook, were the first to enter into an open fight with them. they punched and kicked them, driving them down a steep ravine leading to a river; then, assisted by other men in camp, showered stones upon them. footnotes: [footnote : purified alcohol.] [footnote : see chapter i.] chapter vii an exciting night journey the hour fixed for my flight was p.m. five men had been induced to follow me by the offer of a handsome reward. at the appointed hour no one had put in an appearance. i went in search of them. one man had purposely injured his feet and was disabled, another professed to be dying, the others positively refused to accompany me. all were shivering with fright and cold. "kill us, sahib, if you like," they implored of me, "but we will not follow you." at a.m. all attempts to get even one man to carry a load had proved futile. i had to abandon the idea of starting. my prospects became gloomier than ever. another march back toward the cold and dreary pass by which i had entered tibet! "you are depressed, mr. landor," remarked the doctor. i admitted the fact. every step backward was to me like a stab in the heart. my only wish was to push on at any cost, and it was only on account of my good friend, the doctor, that i had reluctantly refrained from making my way onward by force. my blood was boiling. the cowardice of my men made them so contemptible in my eyes that i could not bear even to look at them. on this depressing march i walked alone ahead of my party. the rugged way seemed short and easy. i found a suitable spot for our camp. before me and on every side stood high, snowy mountains. in front towered that same lumpiya pass over which i had crossed into tibet when my spirits ran high and i had hopes of taking my entire expedition toward the sacred city of lhassa. i now hated the sight of those mountains. whether it is that storms come when one is depressed, or whether one gets depressed when storms approach, i am not prepared to say. on this occasion, when i was indeed very depressed, and before we had time to pitch our tents, the wind, which had been high all through the afternoon, increased tenfold. the clouds became black and threatening, and snow soon fell in feathery flakes. "what are you going to do?" inquired the doctor of me. "i think you had better return to garbyang, get fresh men, and make another start." "no, doctor. i will die rather than continue this backward march. i have resolved to start alone to-night. i am convinced that i shall have better success. i shall find my way over the range." "no, no, it is impossible, mr. landor!" cried the doctor, with tears in his eyes. "that must mean death to any one attempting it." i told him i was quite determined to go. the poor doctor was dumfounded. he knew that it was quite useless to try to dissuade me. i went into the tent to rearrange my baggage, making the load i intended to carry on my back as light as possible. my scientific instruments, money, and cartridges already made a good weight to carry on my person. while i was making preparations for my journey kachi ram entered the tent. he looked perplexed. "what are you doing, sir?" he inquired. "the doctor says you are going to leave alone to-night, cross the mountain range, and go to lhassa by yourself." "yes; that is true." "oh, sir, the perils and dangers are too great! you cannot go." "i know; but i am going to try." "oh, sir, then i will come with you." "no, kachi. you will suffer too much. go back to your father and mother, now that you have the opportunity." "no, sir; where you go, i will go. small men never suffer. if they do, it does not matter. only great men's sufferings are worth noticing. if you suffer, i will suffer. i will come." kachi's philosophy touched me. he meant what he said. i decided to take him. this was a piece of luck. kachi ram had five bosom friends among the young shoka coolies. in the evenings in camp they often joined in weird love-songs, in memory of the fair maids of their hearts whom they had left behind, on the other side of the himahlyas. kachi hurried away in a state of great excitement. he was back in a few minutes. "how many coolies will you take, sir?" "none will come." "oh, i will get them," said he, with assurance. "will five do?" "yes," i murmured, incredulously. my doubt sustained a shock when kachi returned, buoyant, saying, in his peculiar english: "five shokas come, sir. then you, sir, i, sir, five coolies, sir, start night-time. what clock?" "by jove, kachi," i could not help exclaiming, "you are a smart lad!" "'smart,' sir?" inquired he, sharply, hearing a new word. he was most anxious to learn english, and he had a mania for spelling. "'smart!' what is meaning? how spell?" "s-m-a-r-t. it means 'quick, intelligent.'" "smart," he repeated, solemnly, as he wrote the newly acquired word into a book which i had given him for the purpose. kachi was undoubtedly, in spite of small faults, a great character. he was a most intelligent, sharp, well-meaning fellow. his never-failing good-humor and his earnest desire to learn and to be useful were quite refreshing. my luck seemed to have turned. a few minutes later chanden sing, quite unaware that any one had undertaken to accompany me, entered the tent, and exclaimed, in a disgusted manner: "_shoka crab, sahib! hunya log bura crab. hazur, hum, do admi jaldi lhassa giao._" (the shokas are bad. the hunyas are very bad. your honor and i, we two alone, will go quickly by ourselves to lhassa). here was another plucky and useful man anxious to come. he professed to have no fear of death. how true the poor fellow's words were we will learn later. chanden sing was a man of strong sporting tastes. his happiness was complete when he could fire his rifle at something, though he was never known to hit the mark. he had been severely scolded and punished only a few days before for wasting several cartridges trying to shoot _kiang_ (wild horse) three miles distant. ordinary work, however, such as doing his own cooking or keeping my things tidy, was distasteful to him, and was invariably passed on to others. mansing, the leper, being unfortunately of the same caste as chanden sing, became my servant's servant. the two hindoos constantly quarrelled and fought, but at heart they were the best of friends. the bearer, by means of promises, mingled at intervals with blows, eventually succeeded in inducing his protégé to join in our new expedition and face what dangers we might find ahead. by eight o'clock in the evening i had collected all the men who had promised to follow me. they comprised my bearer, kachi, and six coolies. we named this camp "devil's camp," for diabolical indeed was the wind that shook our tents, not to speak of the snow blown into our shelters by the raging storm. during the night the wind grew in fury. neither wood, dung, nor lichens for fuel could be found. our tents were pitched at , feet above sea-level. to ascend to the summit of the range would mean a further climb of two thousand feet. in such weather the difficulties of the ascent were increased tenfold, though for escaping the notice of the tibetan watchmen, who were spying our movements, we could have no better chance than on a stormy night like this. i arranged with the doctor that he was to take back to garbyang all the baggage i had discarded and the men who had declined to follow me. he must leave all our tents pitched until the afternoon of the next day, in order to let the tibetans suppose that we were all sheltered under them. this would give me time to make a long forced march before they could discover that i had left my tent, and could get on my track. hard as it would be for our little party going forward, we would take no tent except the small _tente d'abri_, which weighed about four pounds. we should, in any case, be unable to pitch a tent for several days, for fear of being detected by the tibetans. as soon as they would discover that we had left they would surely start in search of us. we should have to march long distances at night, keeping mostly on the summit of the range instead of proceeding, like ordinary travellers, along the valleys. we must get what little sleep we could during the day, when we could hide in some secluded spot. the thought of making a fire had to be abandoned because, even in the remote chance of finding fuel at the great altitudes where we were compelled to camp, every one knows that the light of a fire and a column of smoke can be seen from great distances, both in the day and at night. we had talked over all these matters before we made a start, and, moreover, we were fully aware that if the tibetans could lay their hands upon us, we were too few to fight them, and we had little chance of escaping with our lives. in fact, taking things all round, we had come to the conclusion that our lives were worth a mere song from the moment of our leaving devil's camp. with the full knowledge of what we were undertaking we may have been foolish in starting at all, but lack of determination cannot fairly be charged against us. the thoughtful doctor had brought with him from our last camp a few lichens, with which he was now attempting to light a fire to cook me a few _chapatis_ (native flat breads of india). alas! four hours' hard work and four entire boxes of matches failed to produce the semblance of a flame. at midnight i sent chanden sing and kachi to collect the men. two came trembling into the tent, the others could not be roused. i went myself and took them, one by one, to their loads. all were crying like children. it was then that i discovered that in the haste and confusion i had made one load too many. here was a dilemma! everything was ready and propitious for our flight. a delay at this juncture was fatal. i must have another man. the moans and groans in the coolies' tent, when i went in search of another volunteer, were pitiful. you might have thought that they were all going to die, and this was their last agony. all because of the terror of being picked out to follow me. at last, after threats and promises, bijesing, the johari, was persuaded to come. but the load was too heavy for him; he would only carry half. to save trouble, i agreed to carry the other half myself in addition to my own load. [illustration: at night i led my men up the mountain in a fierce snow-storm] we put out our hurricane-lantern, and at p.m., when the gale was raging at its height, driving the grit and snow like spikes into our faces, when the wind and cold seemed to penetrate with biting force to the marrow of our bones, a handful of silent men, half frozen and staggering, left the camp to face the blizzard. i ordered my men to keep close together, and we made immediately for the mountain-side, taking care to avoid the places where we supposed the tibetan spies were posted. we could not have selected a more suitable night for our escape. it was so dark that we could not see more than a few inches in front of us. the doctor, in sad silence, accompanied me for a couple of hundred yards. i urged him to return to the tent. he stopped to grasp my hand. in a broken voice the good man gave me his blessing, and bade me farewell. "the dangers of your journey," whispered dr. wilson, "are so great and so numerous that god alone can guide you through. when i think of the cold, hunger, and hardships you will have to endure i can but tremble for you." "good-bye, doctor," said i. "good-bye," he repeated. "good...." and his voice failed him. we parted. two or three steps, and the darkness separated us. his touching words of farewell rang sadly in my ears as i remembered the loyalty and thoughtfulness of this good friend. the journey toward lhassa had recommenced in grim earnest. in a short while our ears, fingers, and toes were almost frozen, and the snow, fast-driven by the gale, beat mercilessly against our faces. our eyes ached. we might have been blind for all we could see. feeling our way with our feet, we proceeded speechless and exhausted, rising slowly higher and higher on the mountain-side. as we reached greater elevations it grew colder, and the wind became more piercing. every few minutes we were compelled to halt and sit close together in order to warm ourselves and get fresh breath. the air was so rarefied that we could barely proceed under our heavy loads. we heard a whistle and faint sounds like distant voices. my men collected round me, whispered "_daku! daku!_" (brigands! brigands!), and then threw themselves flat on the snow. i loaded my rifle and went ahead, trying in vain to perceive the enemy in the darkness. i screened my ear with one hand. hark!... hark!... yet another shrill whistle! my shokas were terrified. the sound seemed to come from directly in front of us. we immediately altered our course, wending our way upward slowly and steadily until we found ourselves at sunrise near the mountain-top. it was still snowing hard. one final effort brought us to the summit of the plateau. here we felt comparatively safe. thoroughly exhausted, we deposited our burdens on the snow, and laid ourselves down close to one another, piling on the top of us all the available blankets in order to keep warm. chapter viii hungry fugitives at p.m. we woke up, drenched to the skin, for the sun, which had come out after the storm had abated, had thawed the thick coating of snow over us. the elevation of this camp, according to my aneroids, was , feet. the wind, from the south-east, cut like a knife, and we suffered from it, not only on this occasion, but every day during the whole time we were in tibet. this wind began to blow with great fierceness and regularity at one o'clock every afternoon, and it was only toward eight o'clock in the evening that it sometimes abated and gradually ceased. frequently, however, the wind, instead of dropping at this time, increased in violence, blowing with terrible force during the whole night. as we were making ready to start again, with limbs cramped and stiff, the sky again became suddenly covered with heavy gray clouds, and fresh snow fell. there was no possibility of making a fire, so we started hungry and half frozen, following a course of ° (b.m.). we waded up to our waists through a freezingly cold stream, and, climbing steadily higher and higher for a distance of six miles, we at last reached another and loftier plateau to the north-east of the one where we had camped in the morning. the elevation of this second plateau was , feet. i was surprised to find four lakes of considerable size close to one another on this high tableland. the sun, breaking for a moment through the clouds, shone on the snow-covered tops of the surrounding mountains, silvering the water of the lakes, and displaying before us a wild and beautiful scene. we were too hungry and tired to care greatly for beautiful sights. all we thought of was to find, as quick as possible, a suitable place where we could rest our wearied bodies, either under the shelter of the higher hills around the plateau or in one of the depressions in the ground. i was anxious to push across the plateau and descend on the north-east side to a lower altitude, where we might likely find fuel, but my men, half starved and fagged, would go no farther. their loads, now soaking wet, were considerably heavier than under ordinary circumstances. we were all panting on account of the thin air at that great height. no sooner had we come to a partially sheltered spot between the larger lake and the most eastern sheet of water of the group than my men collapsed and said they were unable to proceed. i was concerned about them. they refused to take cold food, believing it would cause their death. i could not see how they could recover sufficient strength for the next day's marching unless i kept them properly fed. by promising that they should not die, i finally persuaded them to eat a little _satoo_ (flour) and _ghur_ (sweet paste). unluckily, no sooner had they eaten some of the mixture, upon which they drank cold water, than nearly all were seized with violent pains in their stomachs, of which they complained most of the night. experience had taught these mountaineers that eating cold food at great elevations was more dangerous than eating no food at all. i regretted my ill-timed, if kindly meant, advice. one is apt to judge other people by one's self. personally i never found any different effects from hot or cold food, plentiful or not, at high elevations, on the sea-level, or at intermediate altitudes. soon after sunset the cold was intense. it was still snowing hard. our wet garments and blankets were beginning to freeze. i lighted a small spirit-lamp, round which we all sat close together, making such a shelter as we could with our frozen wraps. i even attempted to cook some concentrated broth on the flame, but, owing to the high altitude, the water took a long time to lose its chill, not to speak of the time it took to boil. when it was just getting tepid the flame went out, and i could not afford more spirits of wine to light the flame again. so the cooking had to be abandoned, and as the night grew colder and colder, we huddled together under our respective blankets in order to sleep. we had made a protecting wall with our baggage. my men covered their heads with their blankets, but i never could adopt their style of sleeping, as it seemed to smother me. i always slept with my head uncovered, for not only could i breathe more freely, but i wished to be on the alert should we at any time be surprised by the tibetans. my men moaned and groaned and their teeth chattered during the night. i woke many times with a bad pain in my ears, caused by frost-bite; my eyes, too, suffered as the eyelashes became covered with icicles. every time i tried to open my eyelids there was an uncomfortable feeling, as if the eyelashes were being torn off. in the intense cold the lids became fast frozen directly they were closed. at last the sun rose. the night had seemed endless. when i tried to raise the blanket in order to sit up, it seemed of an extraordinary weight and stiffness. no wonder! it was frozen hard, was as rigid as card-board, and covered over with a layer of snow one foot thick. the thermometer during the night had gone down to °. i called my men. they were hard to wake. they were entirely buried under the snow. "_uta! uta! uta!_" (get up! get up! get up!) i called, shaking one by one, brushing off the snow from over their blankets. "_baroff bahut_" (there is much snow), remarked one man, as he put his nose outside his blanket and rubbed his eyes, smarting from the white glare of the snow around us. "salaam, sahib," he added, when, having overcome his first surprise, he perceived me, and he raised his hand gracefully up to his forehead. the others behaved in a similar manner. kachi was, as usual, the last one to wake. "oh, kachi," i shouted, "get up!" "_oh, bahiyoh!_" (oh, father!) yawned he, stretching his arms. half asleep, half awake, he looked round as if in a trance, muttering incoherent words. "good-morning, sir. oh ... much snow. oh ... look, sir, two _kiangs_ there! what is '_kiang_' in english?" "wild horse." "'wild' you spell w-i-l-d?" "yes." here the note-book was produced from under his pillow, and the english word duly written down. odd creatures, these shokas! the average european, half starved and frozen, would hardly give much thought to exact spelling under such trying circumstances. poor mansing, the leper, suffered terribly. he groaned pitiably through the entire night. i had given him one of my wrappers, but his circulation had been badly affected by the intense cold. his face was gray and cadaverous, with deep lines engraved upon it from suffering. his feet were so frozen that it took him some time before he could stand upon them. again the shokas would eat nothing because snow was still falling. we started toward the north-east. after a mile of flat we began a steep descent over unpleasant, loose débris and sharp rocks. the progress was rapid but painful. looking at the country below through my telescope, i saw shrubs and lichens far down in the valley to the north-east, and also a tent and some sheep. this was unfortunate, for we had to alter our course in order not to be seen. we again climbed up to the top of the plateau and went around its summit unperceived, striking a more easterly route. toward sunset we began our descent from the latter point. we crossed the river with no great difficulty. having selected a nicely sheltered depression in the ground, i pitched my little tent there, by the side of a pond of melted snow. we all set out collecting lichens and shrubs in order to make a fire, and each man carried into camp several loads of fuel. in a moment we had three big fires blazing, and not only were we able to cook an excellent dinner and drown our past troubles in abundance of steaming tea, but we also managed to dry our clothes and blankets. the relief we obtained from the warmth of these fires was wonderful. in our comparative happiness we forgot the hardships and sufferings we had so far encountered. with the exception of a handful of _satoo_, this was the first solid meal we had eaten during the last forty-eight hours. in those two days we had travelled twenty miles, each of us carrying a weight averaging over sixty pounds. we were now at an elevation of , feet, which seemed quite low after our colder and loftier camping-grounds. the reaction was pleasant, and, as far as i was concerned, the outlook had changed from one of deepest depression to a condition of comparative cheerfulness and contentment. in front of us, to the north-east, was a high mountain.--farther toward the east could be seen a narrow valley between two hill ranges, while a river passed through a picturesque gorge in the direction of the mangshan mountain. it was necessary for me to proceed along the valley to the east, for in so doing we should save ourselves trouble, time, and exertion, though perhaps we might meet tibetans, especially bands of robbers. this part of the nari khorsum province was said to be infested with brigands. we had, therefore, to proceed cautiously, especially as my shokas seemed quite afraid. we had hardly gone half a mile over the rolling country, and i had stopped behind my men to take observations with my prismatic compass, when my carriers suddenly threw themselves flat on the ground and began to retreat, crawling on hands and knees. "_daku! daku!_" (brigands! brigands!) they whispered, as i got near them. it was too late. we had been detected, and a number of dacoits, armed with matchlocks and swords, came rapidly toward us. it has always been my experience that, in such cases, the worst thing to do is to run away, for nothing encourages a man more to attack you than to show that you are afraid. i therefore loaded my mannlicher rifle. my bearer did likewise with the martini-henry. i gave orders to the shokas to squat down by their respective loads and to remain still. my bearer and i strolled toward the fast-approaching band, now less than a hundred yards distant. i shouted to them to stop. chanden sing signalled to them to go back. they took no notice of our warnings, and came on all the faster toward us. undoubtedly they thought that we were merely shoka traders, and expected to find an easy prey. they had conceived a good plan of attack. when they prepared to rush us, on getting near enough, they separated with the obvious intention of attacking us on all sides. "_dushu! dushu!_" (go back! go back!) i cried angrily at them, raising my rifle to my shoulder and taking a steady aim at the leader. chanden sing did the same with one of the other men. this seemed to have a good effect upon them, for they immediately made a comical salaam and took to their heels, chanden sing and i pursuing them for some distance in order to get them well out of the way. we watched them from a mound close by, and discovered that a short distance off these robbers had many companions, as well as some three thousand sheep, presumably the results of their last robbery. we motioned to them to get away from our course, and finally, driving their sheep before them, they went off in the direction i pointed out to them. when they were clear of us, and my shokas, who thought their last hour had come, had partly recovered from their fright, we proceeded on our journey, entering the narrow valley between the two hill ranges which i have already mentioned. that we were now in a much-frequented region could be plainly seen by the numerous camping-grounds along the stream. our success of the morning had raised our spirits, and we marched merrily, keeping to the left bank of the watercourse. a steep climb brought us to a plateau at an altitude of , feet, from which we obtained a fine view of the snow range, running east to west from the mangshan mountain to the lippu pass, and beyond, to the north-east, the four lofty peaks of nimo nangil, , feet, , feet, , feet, , feet high. this plateau sloped gently, and was broken by many deep crevasses, conveying the waterflow down into the gakkon river. on the lower portion of this plateau, and then along the course of the river, a track ran from gyanema to taklakot _via_ kardam and dogmar, and another seldom-frequented track to mangshan, south-south-west of this place. the edge of the plateau was , feet above sea-level, and the river feet lower. this was for us a dangerous spot, as by this time the tibetans must be aware that i had escaped and that i was well into their country. i knew that soldiers and spies must be guarding all the tracks and searching for us. this thoroughfare, being more frequented than the others, was all the more insecure. we had to display great caution in order to avoid detection. in tibet the atmosphere is so clear that moving objects can plainly be seen very far away. i looked everywhere through my telescope, but could see no one, so we went on. my men thought it safer to descend into one of the numerous creeks, where we should be less exposed, but we had hardly reached the border of one of these when we heard noises rising from the valley below. crawling on our stomachs, my bearer and i peeped over the edge of the plateau. some five hundred feet below was a tibetan encampment, with a number of yaks and ponies grazing. unnoticed, i watched them for some time. there were several soldiers, most probably posted there on the lookout for me. with my spy-glass i recognized some of the gyanema men. we deemed it wise to select a spot where we could hide until night came. after dark we descended to the river ( , feet), scrambled across it, and made our way up a narrow gorge between high cliffs until we came to a well-hidden spot, where we halted. followed by my men, i climbed up from rock to rock on the cliff to our left, and found a small natural platform, sheltered by a huge bowlder projecting over it. this seemed a safe enough spot for camping. we dared not put up a tent, and we took the precaution of burying all our baggage in case of a surprise during the night. unhampered, we should at any moment be able to hide ourselves away from our pursuers or run before them. we could always come back afterward for our things if we had the chance. now that everything seemed to be running smoothly, i made a painful discovery. it was necessary for me to move rapidly. imagine my surprise when i found that we were out of provisions. before leaving the larger body of my expedition, i had given orders to my men to take food for ten days. the doctor, who had been deputed to see to this, had assured me that the loads contained quite enough to last us fully and above that length of time. now, for some unknown reason, we had only sufficient food for one meagre meal. we only had a few grains of salt left. "what have you done with it?" i inquired, angrily, as it immediately flashed across my mind that my carriers had been playing foul. i had ordered each man to take one pound of salt. "yes, sahib; but we forgot to take it," said the men, in a chorus. [illustration: behind our bulwarks] after the hardships and fatigue we had undergone, and the anxiety and difficulty of carrying on my work of surveying, photography, sketching, and writing, under conditions of unusual discomfort and risk, it was indeed a hard blow to me to see my plans spoiled. we were still three or four days' journey from mansarowar, where i expected to obtain fresh supplies. again i had the choice of giving up and returning into india or of being captured by the tibetan soldiers, whom i had so far successfully avoided. though not usually affected by physical pain, i sometimes suffer under mental stress. i felt ill and depressed. to add bodily discomfort to my moral sufferings, i slipped, while jumping in the semi-darkness from stone to stone across the gakkon river, and fell flat into about four feet of ice-cold water. the wind was high at the time. the thermometer, after dark, went down to °. while i was sitting in my wet clothes and talking our situation over, i became so cold and exhausted that i felt i was about to collapse altogether. high fever set in, and i became almost delirious. with my teeth chattering and my temperature at its highest, all my troubles seemed greater than they were. failure seemed inevitable, my position hopeless. a plan suddenly flashed across my mind. four of my men should go disguised, two as traders and two as beggars, into the takla fort (locally called _takla khar_ or _taklakot_), and buy food from my enemies. we, in camp, would remain hidden until they returned. i spoke to my followers, and, after some natural reluctance, four shokas undertook to perform the daring duty. discovery would mean to them the loss of their heads, in all probability preceded by cruel tortures. although these men eventually betrayed me, i cannot help giving them credit for the pluck and fidelity they showed on that particular occasion. during the night my men were particularly good to me. we did not sleep for fear of being surprised by the tibetan soldiers. we passed hour after hour listening to shoka stories of brigands and barbarous tibetan tortures. little i knew then what was in store for me. early in the morning, when it grew light, we gathered a quantity of nettles, which were plentiful near this camp, and having boiled them thoroughly, we made of them a hearty if not quite an appetizing meal. they did not seem unpalatable at the time, and had we possessed salt to add taste and digestibility to our prickly diet, we might have felt quite happy. we supplied the deficiency by mixing with them a double quantity of pepper. at any rate, it was a relief to know that, while nettles lasted near our camp, we should at least not die of starvation. chapter ix an attempt at mutiny the entire food-supply for my men was now reduced to four pounds of flour, two pounds of rice, and two pounds of _satoo_. this we gave to the four men who were to attempt to enter taklakot. their journey would be long and fatiguing. for us there were plenty of nettles to fall back upon. for myself i had a small quantity of tinned provisions, but i intended to keep these for worse days which, i feared, were in store for me. i carefully instructed the four shokas how to enter the tibetan fort one by one in their disguises, and, in order to avoid suspicion, purchase only in small quantities at a time the provisions we required. when a sufficient amount was obtained to make one load, a man should immediately start back for our camp. the others were to follow separately for a few marches. at a given spot they would all four meet again and return together to us. it was exciting work to prepare the different disguises and arrange for everything. at last, after repeated good-byes and words of encouragement, the four messengers left on their perilous errand. all seemed quiet around us, so quiet that i unburied my sextant and artificial horizon and was taking astronomical observations when a herd of over a hundred yaks appeared on the pass north of our camp, and slowly advanced toward us. were we discovered? were the tarjum's men coming, preceded by their animals? no time was to be lost. instruments and blankets were quickly cleared away and hidden. crawling up toward the animals, that had stopped on seeing us, we threw stones at them in order to drive them down the next creek. we were just in time to do this and return to our hiding-place when we saw, on the summit of the pass and on the other side, a number of tibetans following the yaks we had driven away. the tibetans passed only a couple of hundred yards below us, evidently quite unaware of our presence. they were apparently looking for our tracks, for they often stooped to examine the ground. later in the afternoon i went to reconnoitre down the gyanema road, in the hope of watching, unseen, the tibetans who passed on their way to and from taklakot. i saw no soldiers. a strong band of brigands, driving before them thousands of sheep and yaks, was an interesting sight. the bandits rode ponies, and obeyed their leader smartly when, in a hoarse voice, and never ceasing to turn his prayer-wheel, he muttered orders. they went briskly along, women and men riding their ponies astride. the men had matchlocks and swords. each pony carried, besides its rider, bags of food slung behind the saddle. i watched the long procession from behind rocks, and felt somewhat relieved when the last horsemen, who passed only some twenty yards from me, rode away with the rest of the caravan. i retraced my steps. judging that this camp was not quite so safe as i had at first imagined, i proceeded, with the aid of my men, to make a rough intrenchment and to erect a wall round the platform, sheltered by the projecting rock under which we lived. these bulwarks hid us from the sight of passing tibetans, and were serviceable as fortifications in case of a night attack. all our things were buried a short distance above our camp. another long, dreary day had passed. we had used our last grain of salt. yet another day on nettles alone, and a third day and a fourth on the same diet! how sick we got of nettles! the days seemed endless as, lying on a peak above our camp, i remained hour after hour scanning with my telescope the long plateau above the gakkon river in search of our expected messengers. every time i saw men in the distance my heart leaped, but on focussing them with my glass they turned out to be jogpas (bandits), or dogpas (nomad tribes of smugglers), or travelling humlis or jumlis, on their way to gyanema and gartok. as time went on and the messengers did not put in an appearance, we began to entertain doubts as to their safety. would they betray us and never return? or had they been caught by the jong pen (the master of the fort), and been imprisoned and tortured? my indian servant declined to eat any more nettles. he said it was better not to eat at all than to eat the same thing constantly. he declared he could fast for ten days, and would make up for the lack of food by sleeping. my fortified abode was comfortable enough during the morning when the sun shone on it. often when the rock had absorbed a good deal of heat, it got so warm that we had to abandon it in the middle of the day, when the thermometer registered as much as °, °, and even °. from p.m. till ten o'clock at night a bitter wind blew from the south-east and seemed to get right into our bones. so cold was this wind that the temperature suddenly dropped down to °, and even lower, the moment the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and continued to fall as low as °, °, and ° during the night. one night we had a terrific gale and a snow-storm. such was the force of the wind that our wall was blown down upon us as we slept under its shelter. the hours we had hoped to rest had to be spent in repairing the damage done. on the following morning we were gathering nettles for our meal when we heard the distant tinkling of fast-approaching horse-bells. we quickly put out the fires, hid our things, and hastened behind our bulwarks. i seized my rifle. chanden sing loaded the martini. a shoka, who was too far off to reach our fortified abode in time, screened himself behind some rocks. in the nick of time! half a dozen soldiers, with matchlocks to which were attached red flags, were cantering gayly up the hillside only a few yards in front of us. they were undoubtedly searching for me. they looked in every direction, but fortunately never turned their eyes toward the castle walls that concealed us. perhaps they were expecting to see a large european tent in one of the valleys, and never dreamed that we should be where we were. we covered them well with our rifles, but we had no occasion to fire. they rode on. the sound of their horse-bells grew fainter and fainter as they disappeared on the other side of the pass. these horsemen were probably soldiers despatched by the tarjum to guard this track. they were now on their way back to their master, satisfied that the englishman was not to be found in that part of the country. we named that spot "terror camp," for many and horrible were the experiences that befell us there. another weary day dragged slowly to its close, and no sign of the messengers' return. two men volunteered to go into kardam, a settlement some miles off. there they would try to obtain food from the tibetans. one of them had a friend at that place. he would try to buy from him sufficient provisions to enable us to go on a few days longer. disguised as pilgrims, a disguise not difficult to assume, for their clothes were falling to pieces owing to the rough marching we had done of late, the men started and were away the whole day. when they returned late at night they had an amusing tale to tell. meeting a tribe of dogpas, they had boldly entered their camp, asking to purchase food. unfortunately the dogpas had not sufficient for themselves, and could not spare any. incidentally my men were informed that _lando plenki_ (the name the tibetans had given me) had taken a large army of men into tibet. great excitement prevailed at taklakot as well as at other places, owing to the fact that the englishman had the strange power of making himself invisible when the tibetan soldiers were near him. he had been heard of in many places in tibet. soldiers had been sent in all directions to capture him. his tracks had several times been discovered and followed. yet he could never be found. messengers had been hastily sent out from taklakot to lhassa (sixteen days' journey), and to gartok, a great market in west tibet, asking for soldiers to assist in the capture of this strange invader, who was also said to have the power of walking on water when crossing rivers and of flying over mountains when he chose. when i recalled our struggles and sufferings in climbing over the mountains and in crossing the streams on our journey, this account of myself given by the tibetans, and now repeated to me, struck me as almost cruelly ironical. i was pleased that the tibetans credited me with such supernatural powers, for it would keep them from getting too close to us. three more long days were spent in painful anxiety regarding the fate of our messengers. we feared that they had been captured and beheaded. we had retired in despair to our fortress. it was p.m. we were worn out and ready to turn in. our fire at the bottom of the creek was slowly dying out. nature around us was as still and silent as death. i suddenly heard sounds of approaching steps. we listened, peeping through the narrow openings in our wall. were these tibetans trying to surprise us in our sleep or were they my men returning at last? we closely watched the gorge from which the sounds came--yes, faint sounds of voices and of footsteps. at last four staggering figures crawled cautiously into camp. we could not even then discern in the dim light whether they were our messengers or not. "_kuan hai?_" (who is there?) i shouted. "dola!" replied a voice. we gave them a joyful and hearty greeting, but our happiness was not to last long. the men did not respond. they seemed quite exhausted and terrified. i asked them to explain the cause of their distress. sobbing and embracing my feet, they at first declined to tell me. grave, indeed, was the news they brought. "your days are numbered, sir!" at last cried dola. "it is impossible for you to get out of this country alive!... they will kill you! the jong pen of taklakot says he must have your head at any cost." "do not look so far ahead, dola," i replied, trying to console him. "tell me, first, how you reached taklakot?" "oh, sahib, we followed your plan. we suffered much on the road. the marches were long and severe, and we had little food. we walked day and night for two days, keeping away from the track, and hiding whenever we saw any one. when we got near the tibetan fort we saw, at the foot of the hill, a few tents of shokas from nepal. none of the shokas from british territory had been allowed to enter tibet. a guard kept a sharp lookout day and night in order to arrest anybody entering the country from that side. two fakirs, who were on a pilgrimage to the sacred mansarowar lake, unaware of the danger, had crossed over the lippu pass, and had proceeded down to taklakot. they were immediately seized and accused of being you, sir, in disguise. as the tibetans were not quite certain as to which of the two was the disguised englishman, they severely punished both, beating them almost to death. what became of them we were unable to learn. the tibetans afterward found out that you had entered tibet by another pass, and soldiers have been sent in every direction to look for you. "no sooner did we appear at taklakot," sobbed dola, "than we were pounced upon, knocked about, and arrested. they cross-examined us closely. we professed to be johari traders who had run short of food, and had made for taklakot to buy provisions. they beat us and treated us badly, until your friend zeniram, the head village man of chongur (in nepal), came to our rescue and gave thirty rupees surety for us. we were then allowed to remain in his tent, guarded by tibetan soldiers. we secretly purchased from him and packed the provisions. at night zeniram succeeded in decoying the soldiers who were guarding us into his tent, and gave them _chökti_ to drink until they became intoxicated. one by one we four succeeded in escaping with our loads. for three nights we marched steadily back, hiding during the day. now we have returned to you, sir." dola paused for a minute or two. "sir," he continued, "we were told in taklakot that over a thousand soldiers are searching for you everywhere. more are expected from lhassa and sigatz,[ ] whither the jong pen has hastily sent messengers. they fear you, sir, but they have orders from lhassa to capture you at any cost. they say that you can make yourself invisible when you wish. exorcisms are made and prayers offered daily, so that in future you may be seen and arrested. once caught, they will have no pity on you. you will be beheaded. the jong pen is angry with you, owing to the defiant messages you sent him from garbyang. he has given orders to the soldiers to bring you back dead or alive. whoever brings your head will receive a reward of five hundred rupees." "i had no idea my head was so valuable!" i could not help exclaiming. "i shall take great care of it in the future." in tibet five hundred rupees represent a large fortune. the man possessing such a sum is a rich man. my men looked upon the whole affair as very serious. i gave a handsome reward to the four men who had brought the provisions, but that did not prevent all my shokas declaring that the danger was so great that they must leave me there and then. appeals are useless on such occasions. i simply said that i should shoot any man attempting to leave camp. having now provisions for ten days, i informed my men that we must at sunrise push on. sulky and grumbling, the shokas left the fortified corner and went below to the creek. they said they preferred sleeping down there. i suspected them. i sat up watching them and listening instead of sleeping. my indian servant rolled himself up in his blanket, and, as usual, was soon asleep. the shokas lighted a fire, sat around it, and with their heads close together held an excited council in a half-whisper. in the heated discussion some spoke louder than they imagined. the night being particularly still, and the place well adapted for carrying sound, i overheard words which put me on the alert. i soon convinced myself that they were arranging to sell my head ... yes ... and to divide the money! the men got closer together, and spoke so faintly that i could hear no more. then they each in turn placed one hand above the other along a stick, until the end of it was reached; each man then passed it to his neighbor, who went through the same performance; a queer kind of drawing lots, common among the shokas. eventually the man selected by fate drew from a load a large gourkha knife, and removed its scabbard. i well remember the moment when the men, with their faces lighted by the small flame of the flickering fire, all looked up toward my aerie. seen from the fissure in the wall behind which i knelt, their countenances seemed distorted and ghastly. they listened to hear if we were asleep. then all but one rolled themselves in their blankets, completely covering their heads and bodies. the one figure i could now see sat up by the fire for some time, as if thinking hard. every now and then he turned his head up toward my fortress and listened. at last he got up and, with his feet, smothered the fire. it was a lovely night, and as soon as the reddish flame was put out the stars shone like diamonds in the deep-blue sky. i rested the barrel of my rifle on the wall, my eyes being fixed on the black figure down below. stooping low, the traitor crawled step by step the few yards up to my abode, pausing to listen each time a rolling stone caused a noise. he was now only two or three yards away. he seemed to hesitate. drawing back, and ready to spring up, i kept my eyes fixed on the top of the wall. i waited some time, but the man was in no hurry. i grew impatient. i slowly got up, rifle in hand, and as i raised my head above the wall i found myself face to face with the man on the other side. i lost no time in placing the muzzle of my mannlicher rifle close to his face. the surprised shoka, dropping his knife, went down on his knees and begged my pardon. he received a good pounding with the butt of my rifle. i felt i had better ascertain that no further disturbance took place during the night. two men attempted to crawl out of camp and desert, but i discovered them and stopped them in time. at last the sun rose, and the night ended with all its troubles and anxieties. footnotes: [footnote : usually called "shigatze" on english maps.] chapter x among enemies and robbers on my last scouting journey up the hill above terror camp i had seen, by the aid of my telescope, the encampment of a guard of tibetans about three miles north of us. in the morning we dug up the main part of the baggage we had buried, and made ready to start. one of my men, named nattoo, came forward and professed to be able to guide me directly to the mansarowar lake. he seemed anxious to undertake this task, saying that there would be no chance of being seen by tibetans by the route he knew, and therefore we might march during the daytime. led by this man, we started up the creek. i was astonished at the willingness with which the shokas agreed to proceed. in a short time i felt convinced that nattoo was deliberately taking us to the spot i most wished to avoid. on my remonstrating and stopping farther progress in that direction, the shokas mutinied, and, laying down their loads, tried to escape. chanden sing quickly barred their way ahead in the narrow creek. i prevented their escape from the opposite side. they had to surrender. they were all severely punished there and then. on being closely cross-examined, they confessed that they had made a plot to hand me over to the tibetan guard, in order to escape themselves the horrors of torture by the tibetans. this last act of treachery, coming after what had happened during the night, and from the very men to whom i had been so kind, was too much for me. i used a stick, which chanden sing handed me, freely on their backs and legs--nattoo receiving the largest share of blows, because he was undoubtedly the leader of the conspiracy. on climbing to a high point of vantage i made another discovery. besides the guard we had to the north of us, both east and west our way was barred by tibetan soldiers. it was not possible to get on during the day without being seen. i absolutely refused to go back south. i held a council with my men, now apparently resigned to their fate. they agreed to accompany me as far as the maium pass (on the road to lhassa), which we reckoned we could reach in fifteen to eighteen marches. they further agreed to endeavor to obtain yaks and food for me, and i was then to dismiss them. from the summit of the hill i had climbed i had taken careful bearings. at night, aided by my luminous compass, i led my men high up along the mountain range at an average elevation of feet above the gyanema-taklakot track. the night was dark and stormy. we encountered much difficulty on our journey forward, owing to the slippery ground. where it was not slippery we trod over troublesome loose stones. we could not see far ahead. though we well knew from the angle of the slope that we were travelling along a precipice, we could not distinguish anything under us except a very bright streak far, far down below--undoubtedly the river. i could not explain the luminosity of the water. it did not seem to come from reflection of the light of stars or the moon, because the sky was cloudy at the time. the river had a curious greenish tint, closely resembling the light produced by an electric discharge. in the more dangerous spots we had to proceed for long distances on all-fours. even then we felt hardly safe, for we could hear the sound of the stones rolling down the steep slope, and by the length of time they took to reach the bottom we knew that we were proceeding over a precipice of extraordinary height. so difficult and painful was the walking that it took us about four hours to go some three miles. we felt so exhausted that from time to time we had to lie down and rest, shivering with cold. our hands were bleeding from cuts caused by the sharp stones. i mustered my men. poor mansing, the leper, was missing. when we last spoke to him he was moaning under his load, and he constantly stumbled and fell. two men were sent in search, but after an hour's absence they failed to discover him. faithful chanden sing and the shoka dola were then despatched to his rescue. after another hour of anxiety the two returned, bringing the unfortunate coolie with them. the poor fellow's hands and feet were badly cut. the pain in the latter was so great that he could no more stand erect. he had fallen in a faint from exhaustion, and it was by a mere chance that in the darkness chanden sing stumbled against his senseless body. apart from his life, his loss would have been a serious matter to me, as he carried my bedding and photographic cameras. sleet and rain commenced to fall. the cold was intense. we continued to climb steadily, chanden sing and i helping the poor leper along. the march soon became less difficult, as we were following a depression formed by the action of melting snows. we were sheltered from the piercing wind, which had been driving the sleet hard into our faces. we slowly covered some three more miles. during that time the storm passed away, leaving the atmosphere beautifully clear. when we reached the pass (over , feet high) a curious optical phenomenon astonished us all. the larger stars and planets, of a dazzling brilliancy, such as i had never in my life seen before, seemed to swing to and fro in the sky with rapid and sudden jerks, describing short arcs of a circle, and returning each time to their normal position. the effect was so weird that i at first believed something had gone wrong with my vision, but my companions saw the same phenomenon. more curious still was the illusion of the stars nearer the horizon disappearing and reappearing behind the mountain range. the oscillations of the heavenly bodies nearer the horizon were less rapid, but the angle of the arc described measured almost double that traced by the stars directly above our heads. the oscillations of the latter were, especially at certain moments, so rapid that the star itself, instead of having its normal appearance, formed a continuous streak of light on the deep-blue background of the sky. this strange optical illusion, which began soon after the storm had cleared away, lasted some time. gradually the oscillations became less violent, and stars and planets eventually resumed their normal steadiness, shining with great brilliancy and beauty. we crossed the pass, and halted directly on the northern side of it. my followers suffered intense pain. their feet were in a terrible condition. the minimum temperature was ° fahrenheit. we did not pitch our tent, and when we went to sleep there was only a blanket between us and heaven. when we woke in the morning we found the thermometer had risen to °. we were enveloped in thick mist, which chilled us to the marrow of our bones. i had icicles hanging from my mustache, eyelashes, and hair. my cheeks and nose were covered with a thin layer of ice, caused by the breath settling and congealing on my face. during our night marches up and down mountain ranges of great height we naturally had many adventures and escapes. in constant storms of grit and snow we crossed range after range, travelling at night and hiding during the day, always camping at great elevations. we underwent considerable privations. i steered my men toward the rakastal, or devil's lake. one day, having risen to , feet, we obtained a magnificent view of the two great sheets of water, the lafan-cho and mafan-cho, more commonly known to non-tibetans under the names of rakastal and mansarowar lakes. to the north of the lakes stood the magnificent tize, the sacred kelas mountain, overtopping by some feet all the other snowy peaks of the gangri chain. this chain extended roughly from north-west to south-east. from this spot we could see more distinctly than from lama chokten the band round the base of the mountain, which, according to legend, was formed by the rope of the rakas (devil) trying to tear down this throne of siva. tize, the great sacred peak, was of fascinating interest, owing to its peculiar shape. it resembled the giant roof of a temple. perhaps it lacked the gracefulness of sweeping curves. tize was angular--uncomfortably angular. its height, the vivid color of its base, and the masses of snow that covered its slopes certainly gave it a peculiar attraction. otherwise it struck me as being intensely unpicturesque--at least from the point from which i saw it and from which the entire face of it was visible. when clouds toned down and modified its shape, tize appeared at its best from a painter's point of view. under these conditions, i have thought it beautiful, especially at sunrise, with one side tinted red and yellow, and its exposed rocky mass standing majestic against a background of shiny gold. with my telescope i could plainly distinguish, especially on the east side, the defile along which the worshippers make the circuit at the base of the mountain. i was told that some pilgrims actually march round it on the snowy ledge directly over the base, just above the darker band of rock described before. on the south-west side could be seen, on the top of a lower peak, a gigantic _obo_ (a pyramid of stone). the journey round tize usually takes three days. some accomplish it in two days, and under favorable circumstances it has even been done in one day. it is usual for the pilgrims to say certain prayers and make sacrifices as they proceed. the more fanatical perform the journey serpentwise, lying flat on the ground at each step. others do it on their hands and knees, and others walking backward. tize, or kelas, has an elevation of , feet, and nandiphu, west of it, , feet. north-west of the sacred mountain are visible other summits , feet, , feet, and , feet high. while i was sketching this panorama a snow leopard bounded gracefully before us. animal life seemed to abound. i had a shot or two at a _thar_ (mountain goat), and we saw any number of _kiang_ (wild horse). we found rhubarb, which seemed to be thriving at so high an elevation as , feet, and quantities of yellow flowers in the same locality and at the same elevation. at , feet i netted two couples of small white-and-black butterflies. they seemed to have great difficulty in flying. on nearing the lakes the atmosphere seemed saturated with moisture. no sooner had the sun gone down than there was a heavy dew, which soaked our blankets and clothes. we were at , feet in a narrow, marshy creek in which we had descended precipitously from the last mountain range. from the summit of the range we had seen many columns of smoke rising from the neighborhood of the devil's lake. we judged that we must again proceed with great caution. we cooked our food. in the middle of the night, for greater safety, we shifted our camp in a north-easterly direction on the summit of the plateau. we continued our journey in the morning high above the magnificent blue sheet of the devil's lake with its pretty islands. "sir, do you see that island?" exclaimed nattoo, pointing at a barren rock in the lake. "on it," he continued, "lives a hermit lama, a saintly man. he has been there alone for many years, and he is held in great veneration by the tibetans. he exists almost entirely on fish and occasional swan's eggs. only in winter, when the lake is frozen, is communication established with the shore, and supplies of _tsamba_ are brought to him. there are no boats on the devil's lake, nor any way of constructing rafts, owing to the absence of wood. the hermit sleeps in a cave, but generally comes out in the open to pray to buddha." during the following night, when everything was still, a breeze blowing from the north conveyed to us, faint and indistinct, the broken howls of the hermit. "what is that?" i asked of the shokas. "it is the hermit speaking to god. every night he climbs to the summit of the rock, and from there addresses his prayers to buddha the great." "how is he clothed?" i inquired. "in skins." late in the afternoon we had an amusing incident. we came to a creek in which were a number of men and women, hundreds of yaks and sheep, and some thirty ponies. the shokas became alarmed, and immediately pronounced the folks to be brigands. i maintained that they were not. kachi had a theory that the only way to tell brigands from honest beings was to hear them talk. the brigands, he declared, usually shouted at the top of their voices when conversing, and used language far from select, while well-to-do tibetans spoke gently and with refinement. i thought the only thing to do was to go and address the people, when by the tone of voice we should find out who and what they were. this, however, did not suit my shokas. we were placed in a rather curious position. in order to proceed on our journey we must either pass through the tibetan encampment or we must march southward round a mountain, which would involve considerable trouble, fatigue, and waste of time. we waited till night came, watching, unseen, the tibetans below us. as is customary with them, at sundown they retired to their tents. leaving my men behind, i crawled into their camp during the night and peeped into one of the tents. the men were squatting on the ground, round a fire in the centre, upon which steamed two vessels with stewing tea. one old man had strongly marked mongolian features, accentuated by the heavy shadows which were cast by the light of the fire on his angular cheek-bones and prominent and wrinkled brow. he was busily revolving his prayer-wheel from left to right, repeating, in a mechanical way, the usual _omne mani padme hun_, words which come from the sanscrit, and refer to the reincarnation of buddha from a lotus flower, meaning literally, "o god, the gem emerging from a lotus flower." two or three other men whose faces i could not well see, as they were stooping low, were counting money and examining several articles of indian manufacture which undoubtedly had been seized from shokas. having discovered the best way to pass without being seen, i went back to my men, and led them, in the middle of the night, through the tibetan camp. we proceeded for a mile or so beyond the encampment. having selected a well-sheltered spot where we thought we could rest without fear of discovery, we laid down our loads and tried to get a few hours' sleep. at sunrise we were startled on finding our camp surrounded by a band of robbers. our friends of the previous night had followed our tracks, and, mistaking us for shoka traders, had now come for a little pleasant robbery. on drawing near they were given a somewhat warm reception. their instant retreat was more speedy than dignified. we wended our way along a narrow valley toward the shore of the devil's lake, halting to cook our food about half a mile from the water's edge. at this point i took observations for longitude, also the correct elevation with boiling-point thermometers. water boiled at ° with the temperature of the atmosphere at ° fahrenheit. i had just repacked my instruments, and was lying flat in the sun, some distance away from my men, when i thought i saw something move. jumping up, i caught sight of a stalwart tibetan stealing along the ground only a few yards away from me, with the object, no doubt, of seizing my rifle. he was not quick enough. all he got was a good pounding with the butt of my mannlicher. i recognized him; he was one of the brigands we had seen in the morning. they had followed and spied us all along. having got over his first surprise and begged for mercy, the bandit, with an amusing air of assumed innocence, requested us to go and spend the night in his tent with him and his friends. they would treat us right royally, he said. being well acquainted with the hospitality of robbers, we declined the invitation. the brigand went away somewhat shaken and disappointed. we continued our journey along the edge of the devil's lake. hundreds of hares sprang all around us. so numerous were they that i killed several with my rifle, using bullet cartridges. there were signs all along that at some previous epoch the level of the lake must have been much higher than it is at present. marching during the day, we encountered many tibetans, some of whom were dogpas, others jogpas, both nomad bands of robbers. when they saw us approaching they generally fled, driving their sheep and yaks in front of them. we came upon two tibetan women, very dirty. their faces were smeared with black ointment, as a protection for the skin and to prevent its cracking in the high wind. they were dressed in long sheepskin garments, worn out and filthy. the shaggy hair was so unwashed that it emitted a sickening odor. i ordered them not to come too near us. later four tibetans, who attempted to snatch chanden sing's rifle out of his hand, received from him a battering they were not likely to forget. after this we were left alone for the remainder of the day. in the evening chanden sing fired at a black wolf which came close to camp. i discovered, about one hundred feet above the lake-level, imbedded in the mountain-side, a stratum of gigantic fossils, which, owing to their size and weight, i was unable to dig out and carry away. feeling almost certain that we were being spied upon all the time by the numerous jogpas we had met, and knowing their favorite habit of attacking strangers at night while asleep, we generally resorted to a simple ruse. before sunset we pretended to encamp, and having lighted a fire to let them think that we had halted for the night, after dark escaped, leaving the fire burning. walking and stumbling for several miles, we eventually found a spot high on the hillside, where we considered ourselves safe. snow fell heavily during the night, and as usual we woke up with icicles hanging from our mustaches, eyelashes, and hair. otherwise we really felt happy and well. it was my good-fortune to make quite sure, from many points, that the ridge between the rakas and mansarowar lakes was continuous, and no visible communication between the two lakes existed. with the exception of a small depression about half-way across, the ridge has an average height of feet all along--a fact which ought in itself to dispose of the theory held by some that the two lakes are connected by a wide channel intersecting this ridge. i ascertained from the natives that there was no visible communication between the lakes, though the depression in the ridge makes it probable that at a very remote period some connection existed. the lowest point in this depression in the centre of the ridge is over three hundred feet above the level of the lakes. chapter xi in strange company just before leaving the shores of the rakastal i had a great piece of luck. we had been detected by another band of brigands, who were trying to overtake us. i had watched them with my telescope as they rode toward us. they were driving some twenty yaks in front of them at a fast pace. the brigands rode ponies. we were about a mile and a half ahead of them, and close to the edge of the devil's lake. we saw them coming down the hillside at a breakneck speed straight in our direction. it was evident that they were after us. my men became terror-stricken when i gave order to halt. the band of highwaymen approached, leaving the yaks in charge of two women. when they galloped in a line toward us, my men, with the exception of chanden sing and mansing, were paralyzed with fright. the brigands were now one hundred yards off. with loaded rifle in one hand and my camera in the other, i advanced to meet them, knowing that, with their old-fashioned matchlocks, it took them a considerable time to light the fusee and fire a shot. moreover, it was almost an impossibility for them to fire on horseback, their weapons being heavy and cumbersome. [illustration: the bandits laid down their arms] i focussed them in my twin-lens photographic apparatus, and waited till i had them well in the field. i snapped the picture when they were only thirty yards away, vaulting over their ponies in the act of dismounting. the camera, having done its work, was quickly deposited on the ground, and the rifle shouldered. i shouted to them to put down their weapons. to give force to my request i aimed at them with my mannlicher. a meeker lot of brigands i do not believe could be found anywhere. people of that kind were only brave when it was easy for them to be courageous. the matchlocks were quickly unslung from their shoulders and flung to the ground. their jewelled swords were laid by the side of the firearms. the bandits went down on their knees, and taking off their caps with both hands, put out their tongues in sign of salute and submission. i could not help taking another photograph of them in that comical attitude. chanden sing, who had been left to look after the baggage, had placed mansing in charge, and was now by my side with the martini-henry rifle, when one of the women, riding astride, arrived on the scene. she was evidently furious at the cowardice of her men. i liked her for that. she jumped off her steed, ejaculated words at the top of her voice, shaking her fists at the men still kneeling before me, and at last, foaming with rage, spat on them. while thus haranguing the band of highwaymen, she had an annoying way of pointing at my baggage; but her speech seemed to have little effect on the submissive crowd. i went up to her, patted her on the back, and offered her a rupee if she would hold her tongue. she grabbed the coin, and rubbed it on her skin coat to make the silver shine. she instantly became calm, and rubbing the coin until it was quite bright, she raised her fiery eyes, staring into mine, and put out her tongue to express her thanks. kachi and dola, who knew tibetan well, were now summoned to address the bandits for me; but these two shokas were in such terror that they could hardly walk, much less speak. after a while, however, seeing how well i had these terrible people under control, they were able to translate. "i want them to sell me some yaks and some ponies," i said. "i will pay handsomely for them." "they say they cannot. the tarjum will cut their heads off if he comes to know it. they will only sell one or two yaks." "very good. how much do they want?" "two hundred silver rupees. but," added dola, "sir, do not give them more than forty. that is a great deal more than they are worth. a good yak costs from ten to sixteen rupees." after some three or four hours' bargaining, during which time the bandits descended gradually from two hundred rupees to forty, and i rose from twenty to that figure, we at last agreed, amid the greatest excitement on both sides, that their two best yaks should be my property. becoming quite friendly, they also sold me pack-saddles and sundry curiosities. they gave me tea and _tsamba_. the fiery woman had still a peculiar way of keeping her eyes fixed on my baggage. her longing for my property seemed to increase when she saw me pay for the yaks and suspected that i must have a good deal of money. if she kept one eye on my goods, i kept both there. i took good care that my rifle was never out of my hand, and that no one ever came too near me from behind. we counted the money down, some fifty rupees, including all purchases. each coin was passed round and sounded by each of our sellers, and when the entire sum was handed over the coins were passed back and recounted, so that there should be no mistake. time in tibet is not money, and my readers must not be surprised when i tell them that counting, recounting, and sounding the small amount took two more hours. the two yaks were eventually handed over to us--one, a huge, long-haired black animal, restless and powerful; the other equally black, strong, and hairy, but somewhat gentler. to catch them, separate them from the herd, pass ropes through their respective nostrils, and tie pack-saddles on their backs, were all operations we as novices had to master. it was hard work indeed, but we struggled until we succeeded. when we parted, the brigands and i were good friends. the bandits behaved admirably. i came to the conclusion that, in tibet, i would at any time rather deal with a bandit than with an official. in a way i was sorry when my interview with the jogpas came to an end, for, although they were undoubtedly brigands, they were certainly interesting. their original and curious dress, their manner, their conversation, their unusual but eminently sensible mode of eating, and their jovial freedom of demeanor were really quite refreshing. their dress was quite representative of tibet. the men wore a great variety of coats and hats, probably due to the facility with which they obtained them. no two individuals were dressed alike, though certain leading features of dress were to be observed in each case. one man wore a gaudy coat trimmed with leopard skin. another had a long, gray woollen robe like a dressing-gown, taken up by a waist-band. a third was garbed in a loose raiment of sheepskin, with the wool inside. yet a fourth was arrayed in a dark-red tunic fastened by a belt of leather with silver ornamentations inlaid in wrought-iron. suspended to the belt were a needle-case, tinder-pouch and steel, a bullet-pouch and bag, and a pretty dagger with a sheath of ebony, steel, and silver filigree. in their belts the jogpas, in common with the majority of tibetan men, wore a sword in front. whether the coat was long or short, it was invariably loose and made to bulge at the waist, in order that it might contain a number of eating and drinking bowls (_pu-kus_), snuff-box, sundry bags of money, _tsamba_, and bricks of tea. it was owing to this custom that most tibetan men, when seen at first, gave the impression of being very stout, whereas, as a matter of fact, they were somewhat lightly built. in the daytime the tibetans left one arm and part of the chest bare, letting one sleeve hang. the reason for this practice was because in tibet the days were hot and the nights cold, the drop in the thermometer at sunset in south-west tibet being at times as much as °, and even °. as the tibetans always slept in their clothes, the garments that protected their bodies from being frozen at night were found too heavy and warm in the hot sun, and, therefore, that simple expedient was adopted. when sitting down both arms were drawn from the sleeves, and the chest and back were left bare; but when standing, one arm, usually the left, was slipped in, to prevent the coat and its heavy contents falling off. that the jogpas had good digestions was evident from the way they ate, when, having concluded the sale of the yaks, they squatted down to a hearty meal of _tsamba_, _chura_ (cheese), and tea. they took from their coats their wooden and metal _pu-kus_ (bowls), and quickly filled them with _tsamba_, pouring over it steaming tea mixed, as usual, with butter and salt in a churn. with their dirty fingers they stirred the mixture in the bowl until a paste was formed, which they rolled into a ball and ate. the same operation was repeated over and over again. each time, before refilling, the bowl was licked clean by rotating the _pu-ku_ round the tongue. feeling the heat of the sun after their meal, both men and women removed some of their garments, showing ornaments of gold, silver, and copper encircling their necks. the women of the bandits, though far from beautiful, possessed a certain charm, due entirely to their wildness. unlike most tibetan women, they had good teeth. their complexion was not specially dark. only the black ointment, with which their cheeks, noses, and foreheads were smeared, made them appear darker than they really were, and was decidedly unbecoming. they had regular features. their eyes and mouths were full of expression. twisted into numberless little plaits, the hair was brought up and fastened over the head. a red turban kept the plaits in position, and was raised so as to show another row of little plaits decorating the forehead. the end of each of these plaits was joined to its immediate neighbor. these ladies wore large ear-rings of gold inlaid with malachite. the children were talkative, and acted like grown-up people. they wore swords in their belts, even at the early age of eight or ten years. in a basket that had been carried on one of the yaks i saw an infant a few months old. his superstitious mother snatched the child away in horror when i caressed him, and washed and rubbed the poor little fellow's face until the skin was sore, declaring that children died who were touched by strangers. the men were just as superstitious. when i wished to buy some rice from them, they would not let me handle it till it had become my property. they objected each time that i stretched out my arm to touch the bag of rice, and eventually showed me a handful of rice at a distance, to let me judge of its quality. i first bought only the handful. having assured myself that it was good, i then purchased the remainder. we had marched on the same afternoon about half a mile in the direction of mansarowar, when we were overtaken by one of the brigands, whom we had left a short time before. he rode toward us, apparently in great excitement. having dismounted, he drew his sword and began chasing one of my yaks. this seemed so strange a proceeding that we were at a loss to understand his intentions. he screamed to us that he meant no harm, so we let him go on. he eventually overtook one yak, and, after a struggle with the unfortunate animal, he flung his arms round the beast's neck and rested his head between its horns. i was getting rather anxious, fearing that this effusion was only a dodge to cut the beast's throat. much to my astonishment, i saw that the young jogpa had seized a tuft of the yak's hair with his teeth and was trying to tear it off, while the unfortunate quadruped was making desperate efforts to shake off its persecutor. the hair eventually gave way, and with a tuft of it hanging from his tightly closed lips, the jogpa let go the animal's head, and, brandishing his sword, next made a dash for its tail. i thought it was time to interfere. i seized the man by his pigtail, while he in his turn clung to the tail of the frightened yak, which, bolting, dragged both of us after it at an unpleasant pace. the jogpa, in our mad flight, cut off a long lock of the yak's silky hair. having secured this, he appeared to be quite satisfied, let go, and sheathed his sword. he quickly concealed the stolen locks in his coat, and then made low bows to us, sticking out his tongue, and declaring that unless such a precaution were taken when parting with a beast, bad luck was sure to come to you. this closed the incident. the jogpa rode away perfectly happy, and we continued our march across the stony plain until we reached the ridge which extended across it, and in its continuation divided the two lakes. we climbed up to the top, rising to , feet. in order to make certain that the ridge really extended right across between the two lakes, i made an excursion about half way along its length, and found that the northern part seemed somewhat lower than the southern; but in the portion between the two sheets of water, and barring the central depression which i have already mentioned, it seemed everywhere several hundred feet above the level of the lakes. this expedition incurred some loss of time, and when night came we were still on the ridge. from our camping-ground we saw fifteen black tents on the hillside. to the east, on the lake shore, there was a large gomba, or lamasery, with a temple and a number of mud houses. i estimated the distance between ourselves and the gomba at only eight miles, a cheering fact, because i hoped to get there fresh provisions that would enable us to proceed more rapidly on our journey. we were now quite out of reach of the gyanema soldiers, as well as of such troublesome officials as the barca tarjum and the jong pen of taklakot. if we could only obtain a sufficient quantity of food during the night, and proceed across country early the next day, there would be little danger of being overtaken by our pursuers. the shokas were again shaking with fright at the idea of entering a tibetan settlement. i told them firmly that we must reach tucker gomba and village that night. we had below us the two great lakes. before i left this magnificent panorama i could not help taking a last long look at the marvellous scene. the devil's lake, with its broken, precipitous shores, its rocky islands and outstretching peninsulas, was far more enchanting to me than the sacred lake by its side, in which, according to tradition, dwelled mahadeva and all the other good gods. although the water was equally blue and limpid, although each lake had for a background the same magnificent gangri chain, mansarowar, the creation of brahma, was not nearly so weirdly fascinating as its neighbor. mansarowar had no ravines rising precipitously from its waters. it was almost a perfect oval without indentations. there was a stony, slanting plain some two miles wide between the water's edge and the hills surrounding it, except along the ridge separating it from the rakastal, where its coast was slightly more rugged and precipitous. directly south of the lake was a chain of high peaks covered with snow, from which several streams descended. from where we stood we could see evident signs, as in the case of the rakastal, that the level of the lake must at one time have been at least thirty feet higher than it was when i visited it. the slanting bed of small, rounded, smooth stones, which extended from one and a half to two miles beyond the water-line, was evidence enough that the level of the water must have been up to that point. i believe that the lake was gradually receding. round the lake there were several tumbling-down sheds in charge of lamas. only one important gomba (monastery) and a temple were to be seen--_viz._, at tucker village. i was told that a small gomba and _serai_ (resting-house for pilgrims), in charge of lamas, stood to the north-west of the lake, but i cannot vouch for the accuracy of the statement, as i did not visit it myself, and the information i received from tibetans regarding its position and importance was conflicting. as the nature of the country suddenly changed between the devil's lake and mansarowar, so, too, the weather and the temperature greatly changed. over the rakastal we invariably saw a lovely blue sky, whereas over mansarowar heavy black clouds hung overhead and rain fell incessantly. from time to time the wind blew off the rain for a few minutes, and lovely effects of light played upon the water. fresh clouds, with violent bursts of thunder, soon made the scene again gloomy and depressing. it was much warmer on the mansarowar side of the ridge than on the rakastal side. probably owing to the dampness, the air seemed quite thick to breathe, instead of being crisp and light, as it was along the shores of the devil's lake. indeed, when i recall the mansarowar, i cannot help thinking that it was the home, not only of the gods, but also of storms. we descended some two miles to the plain, and crossed a rapid delta of the langa tsangpo, or langa river; then another, a mile farther. as these rivers came directly from the snows, the water was very cold, and often three or four feet deep, owing to the thawing of the snow and ice during the day. chapter xii among the lamas no sooner had we reached the shores of the mansarowar than the heavy clouds, which had been hanging over our heads, poured forth such torrents of rain that in a moment we were drenched to the skin. we were marching fast, as our heavy loads were now on the two yaks. night was well advanced. the darkness was such that we could only see a few inches in front of us. we were actually walking in an inch or two of water. a fierce south-east wind drove the rain and hail so hard into our faces and hands as to cause us considerable pain. we were chilled in our wet garments, and our teeth were chattering. we walked quickly, keeping close together. from time to time a bright flash of lightning shone on the lake, and was followed by a terrific crash of thunder. we took advantage of what we could see during those few seconds of light to steer our way toward tucker village and gomba. the rivers, swollen by the rain, were extremely difficult to cross. the water seemed to flow so rapidly on the inclined bed that it was all we could do to keep on our feet. so wet were we that we did not even take the trouble to remove our shoes and garments, and we splashed, clothes and all, across the streams we encountered. three times we went into the freezing water above our waists, and then marched on for endless miles on the pebbly and stony incline. we could no more see where we were going. the storm seemed to grow worse every minute. we stumbled on amid large stones and bowlders, and fell over one another on slippery rocks. farther on we sank up to our knees in mud, which stuck in lumps to our feet and made them as heavy as lead. it was a downpour such as i had seldom before experienced. "are you quite sure that this lake is the home of the gods?" i inquired of kachi. "why, even on the devil's lake we had better weather than this." "yes, sir," replied kachi. "but you make the gods angry, and that is why they send thunder, hail, and rain to stop your progress. you are going on against the gods, sir." "never mind, kachi. it cannot pour forever." at midnight we had no idea where we were; still we pushed on. "have we passed the gomba? have we not yet reached it?" were the questions we asked one another. it seemed to me that, at the rate we were going, we should have been near the place, and yet after another hour's tramp we had not struck it. i was under the impression that we had gone about nine miles. i expressed the opinion that we had passed it, but the shokas insisted that we had not, so we again proceeded. we had hardly gone five hundred yards when we heard the faint, distant, and most welcome bark of a dog. it came from the north-west, and we surmised that it must come from tucker. we had steered too far south of the place, which accounted for our missing it in the darkness. guided by the yelping, we hastily directed our steps toward the settlement. suddenly the first dog was joined by fifty others, all angry and noisy; but though we knew by the sound that we were approaching the village, it was so dark and stormy that we could not find the place. only when we found ourselves close to the mud huts could we be certain that we had at last arrived. it was then between and a.m. the rain still came down in torrents. there was no sign of the inhabitants being willing to give us shelter. it was quite out of the question to pitch our little _tente d'abri_, for our things were already wringing wet. we knocked on a door so hard that the door itself nearly gave way. this was a shelter-house, a _serai_ for pilgrims, and as we claimed to be pilgrims, we had, by the laws of the country, a right to admission. nattoo, who had once before reached this lake by a different route, led us to this house. "you are bandits," said a hoarse voice from inside, "or you would not come at this hour." "no, we are not," we entreated. "please open. we are well-to-do people. we will harm no one, and pay for all." "_middù, middù!_" (cannot be, no!) "you are brigands. i will not open." to show that we were not what they imagined, chanden sing and dola tapped again so gently at the door that the bolt gave way. the next moment ten strangers were squatting down round a warm fire drying their shrivelled-up, soaked skins by the flame of dried tamarisk and dung. the landlord--a doctor, by-the-way--was reassured when he saw that we had no evil intentions, and found some silver coins in the palm of his hand. yet, he said, he rather wished we would go and sleep somewhere else. there was a capital empty hut next door, he suggested. on our agreeing to this, he conducted us to the place, and there we spent the remainder of the night--or, rather, the early morning. our abode was a one-storied flat-roofed house built of stones and mud. there were two rooms--the first lighted by the door, the second and larger having a square opening in the ceiling for the triple purpose of ventilation, lighting, and outlet for the smoke of the fire, which burned directly underneath in the centre of the room. the beams and rafters supporting the roof had been brought over from the indian side of the himahlyas, as no timber was to be found in western tibet. this building was in charge of a young, half-crazy lama, who was most profuse in salutations, and who remained open-mouthed, gazing at us for a considerable time. he was polite and attentive. he helped to dry our things in the morning, and, whenever we asked for anything, he ran out of the house in frantic fits of merriment, always bringing in what we required. the heavy storm during the night had flooded our room. there was only one corner of the floor slightly drier than the rest. there we all slept huddled together. these _serais_ have no claim to cleanliness. on this occasion all the minor animal life that inhabited the floor had, with a view to avoiding the water, retreated to the higher portion of the room, which we also had selected, so that one more trial was added to all our other miseries. we were simply devoured by a swarm of insects. this, indeed, was a dreadful pest, and one from which we suffered indescribable agonies, not only on this occasion, but whenever we halted near tibetan camps. when we rose in the morning the room was full of tibetan men, women, and children, who seemed good-natured and friendly. "_tanga chick!_" (a silver coin equivalent to half a rupee) cried an old woman, who stuck a dried fish under my nose, professing volubly that it had been caught in mansarowar, and that it would make its possessor the happiest of mortals. others unrolled, from inside pieces of red cloth in which they were wrapped, jewellery in the form of brooches, rings, and ear-rings of brass or silver, inlaid with malachite. "_gurmoh sum!_" (three rupees!), "_diu, diu, diu!_" (yes, yes, yes!), "_karuga ni!_" (two two-anna pieces!), "_gieut-cheke!_" (a four-anna piece!), and so on, they called out the price of each article, all talking at the same time, in their anxiety to dispose of their goods. the jewellery was of local manufacture. in some cases the pieces of malachite were firmly set, but usually a kind of paste was used for holding the stones, and, consequently, pretty as the jewels were, they soon broke. the ear-rings were usually better made than the brooches. the most interesting of all, because simpler and more characteristic, were the flat silver charms, ornamented with a primitive design. several lamas came to call on me in the morning, and professed to be pleased to see us; in fact, they asked me to go and pay them a visit in the lamasery and temple. they said there was much sickness in the village, and as they believed me to be a hindoo doctor, they wished i could do something to relieve their sufferings. i promised to do all i could. i was glad to have this unique chance of visiting a lamasery. during this friendly visit to the lamas i carried my rifle in my hand. the tibetans were too friendly to be trusted. when i came out of our stuffy, dark room, preceded and followed by a crowd of inquisitive natives, i had a good look round the village. after the storm of the night we fully expected that the weather would clear and that we might see a bright blue sky, but we had no luck. over us hung again threatening clouds. the waters of the sacred lake, softly moved by the wind, washed gracefully upon the beach. chanden sing and mansing, the two hindoos, without any clothing except a loincloth, were squatting near the edge of the lake having their heads shaved by bijesing, the johari. i must confess that i was somewhat annoyed when i saw them using my best razor for the purpose. i repressed my anger on remembering that, according to their religion, the fact of being at mansarowar absolved them from all sins. my two hindoo servants, with heads turned toward kelas mount, were praying so fervently that i stood to watch them. they washed themselves repeatedly, and at last plunged into the water of the lake. on coming out, shivering with cold, they each took out of their clothes a silver rupee, and flung it into the lake as an offering to the god mahadeva. then, with hairless faces and heads, they dressed and came to pay their salaams to me, professing to be now happy and pure. "siva, the greatest of all gods, lives in the waters of mansarowar!" exclaimed chanden sing, in a poetic mood. "i have bathed in its waters, and of its waters i have drunk. i have salaamed the great kelas, the sight of which alone can absolve all sins of humanity. i shall now go to heaven." "i shall be satisfied if we get as far as lhassa," grumbled the sceptical mansing, out of ear-reach of the tibetans. chanden sing, who was well versed in religious matters, explained that only hindoo pilgrims who had lost both parents shaved their heads on visiting mansarowar, as a sacrifice to siva. if they were of a high caste, on their return to their native land after the pilgrimage it was customary to entertain all the brahmins of the town to a banquet. according to chanden sing, a man who had bathed in mansarowar was held in great respect by everybody, and commanded the admiration and envy of the entire world. the mansarowar lake is about forty-six miles round. pilgrims who wish to attain a great state of sanctity make a _kora_, or circuit, on foot along the water-line. the journey occupies from four to seven days, according to circumstances. one trip round will absolve the pilgrim from ordinary sins; twice the circuit clears the conscience of any murder; and three times will make honest and good a person who has killed his or her father, mother, brother, or sister. there are fanatics who make the tour on their knees; others accomplish the distance lying flat upon the ground after each step. according to legend, mansarowar was created by brahma. he who shall bathe in its waters will share the paradise of mahadeva! no matter what crimes he may have previously committed, a dip in the holy lake is sufficient to purge the soul as well as the body of any criminal! when they had finished purifying themselves by washing, i ordered chanden sing to take his rifle and follow me into the gomba. having committed no crime, i thought i had better do without the holy bath, although the temptation was great to go and have a swim. the lamas were so polite that i feared treachery on their part. to please my men and perhaps bring myself some luck, i hurled a couple of coins into the lake. the large square building, with its walls painted red and its flattish dome of gilt copper rose by the waterside, and was both picturesque and handsome in its severe simplicity. there came sounds from inside of deep, hoarse voices muttering prayers, of tinkling of bells and clanging of cymbals. from time to time a drum was beaten, giving a hollow sound, and an occasional and sudden touch upon a gong caused the air to vibrate until the notes faded away as they were carried over the holy lake. after chanden sing and i had entered the lamasery, the large door, which had been pushed wide open, was immediately closed. we were in a spacious court-yard, three sides of which had two tiers of galleries supported by columns. this was the _lhaprang_, or lama's house. directly in front of me was the _lha kang_, or temple, the floor of which was raised some five feet above the level of the ground. a large door led into it. at this entrance were, one on either side, recesses in which, by the side of a big drum, squatted two lamas with books of prayers before them, a praying-wheel and a rosary in their hands, the beads of which they shifted after every prayer. at our appearance the monks ceased their prayers and beat the drums in an excited manner. there seemed to be some disturbance in the gomba. lamas old and young rushed to and fro out of their rooms, while a number of _chibbis_, or novices (boys between the ages of twelve and twenty), lined the railings of the upper veranda with expressions of evident suspense and curiosity upon their faces. no doubt the lamas had prepared a trap for us. i warned chanden sing to be on the alert, and set him on guard at the entrance of the temple. i deposited a few silver coins on the drum of the lama to my right, took off my shoes in sign of respect, and--much to the amazement of the monks--quietly entered the house of worship. partly astonished at the sight of the silver, and more so at my want of caution, the lamas, of whom there were a good number in the court-yard, remained motionless and dumb. the high lama, or father superior of the monastery, at last came forward stooping low. he placed one thumb above the other and put his tongue out to show his approval of my visit to the many images representing deities or sanctified buddhist heroes which were grouped along the walls of the temple. the largest of these figures were about five feet high, the others about three feet. some were carved out of wood, their drapery and ornaments being fairly artistic in arrangement and execution, while others were fashioned in gilt metal. there were images in a sitting posture and some standing erect. they rested either on ornamented or plain pedestals painted blue, red, white, and yellow. many wore the ancient chinese double-winged cap, and were placed in recesses in the wall decorated with stuffs, wood-carvings, and rough paintings of images. at the foot of these images was a long shelf, on which, in bright brass vessels of all sizes, were oblations of _tsamba_, dried fruit, _chura_, wheat, and rice, offered, through the lamas, by devotees to the different saints. some of the ears of barley were ornamented with imitation leaves modelled in butter, and colored red, blue, and yellow. the ceiling of the temple was draped in red woollen cloth similar to that of the clothes worn by the lamas. from it hung hundreds of strips of silk, wool, and cotton of all colors. the roof was supported by columns of wood forming a quadrangle in the centre of the temple. these were joined by a balustrade, compelling the worshippers to make a circuit from left to right, in order to pass before the several images. in a shrine in the central part of the wall facing the entrance was _urghin_, or _kunjuk-chick_ (god alone). in front of it on a kind of altar covered with a carpet were to be seen donations far more abundant than those offered to other images. the lama, pointing at it, told me that it was a good god. i saluted it and deposited a small offering in the collection-box. this seemed to please the lama greatly, for he at once fetched a holy-water amphora, hung with long "veils of friendship and love,"[ ] and poured some scented liquid on the palms of my hands. then, producing a strip of veil, he wetted it with the scent and presented it to me. the majority of pilgrims generally go round the inside of the temple on their knees, but, notwithstanding that, to avoid offending prejudices, i generally follow the principle of doing in rome as the romans do, i could not here afford the chance of placing myself at such a disadvantage in case of a surprise. the high lama explained the different images to me, and threw handfuls of rice over them as he called them by their respective names, all of which i tried hard to remember, but, alas! before i could get back to the _serai_ and scribble them down on paper, they had all escaped my memory. a separate entrance led from the monastery into the temple. lights, burning in brass bowls, their wicks being fed with melted butter, were scattered on the floor in the central quadrangle. near them lay oblong books of prayers printed on the smooth yellow tibetan paper made from a fibrous bark. near these books were small drums and cymbals. one double drum, i noticed, was made from reversed sections of human skulls. my attention was also attracted by some peculiar head-gear worn by the lamas during their services and ceremonies, when they not only accompany their chanting and prayers with the beating of drums and clashing of cymbals, but they also make a noise on cane flutes, tinkle hand-bells, and sound a large gong. the noise of these instruments is at times so great that the prayers themselves cannot be heard. awe-inspiring masks are used by lamas in their eccentric and mystic dances. the lamas spend the entire day in the temple and consume much tea with butter and salt in it, which is brought to them in cups by lamas of an inferior order acting as servants. they pass hour after hour in their temples, apparently absorbed in praying to the god above all gods, the incarnation of all the saints together united in a trinity, the _kunjuk-sum_. _kunjuk-sum_, translated literally, means "the three deities." some take it to refer to the elements--air, water, and fire--which in the tibetan mind are symbols of speech, charity, and strength or life. one great point in buddhism is the love and respect for one's father and mother, and the prohibition to injure one's neighbors in any way. the latter is preached, but seldom practised. according to the commandments contained in some eight hundred volumes called "the kajars," the tibetans believe in a heaven (the _deva tsembo_) free from all anxieties of human existence, full of love and joy. their heaven is ruled over by a god of infinite goodness, helped by countless disciples called the _chanchubs_, who spend their existence in performing charitable deeds among living creatures. with a number of intermediate places of happiness and punishment, they even believe in a hell where the souls of sinners are tormented by fire and ice. "god sees and knows everything, and he is everywhere," exclaimed the lama, "but we cannot see him! only the _chanchubs_ can see and speak to him." "what are the evil qualities to be mostly avoided?" i inquired of the high lama, who spoke a little hindustani. "luxury, pride, and envy," he replied. "do you ever expect to become a saint?" i asked him. "yes, i hope so; but it takes five hundred transmigrations of an uncontaminated soul before one can be a saint." then, as if waking to a sudden thought, he seized my hand impulsively and spread my fingers apart. having done this, he muttered two or three words of surprise. his face became serious, even solemn, and he treated me with strange obsequiousness. rushing out of the temple, he went to inform the other lamas of his discovery, whatever it was. they crowded round him, and from their words and gestures it was easy to see they were bewildered. when i left the company of the strange idols and came into the court-yard, every lama wished to examine and touch my hand. the sudden change in their behavior was to me a source of great curiosity, until i learned the real cause of it some weeks later. footnotes: [footnote : _kata_ (veil of friendship and love)--a long piece of gauze presented on all occasions in tibet in order to show friendly feelings.] chapter xiii life in the monasteries before i left the monastery the lamas asked me many questions about india and concerning medicine. they also questioned me as to whether i had heard that a young englishman had crossed over the frontier with a large army, which the jong pen of taklakot had defeated, beheading the leader and the principal members of the expedition. i professed to be ignorant of these facts. i was amused at the casual way in which the jong pen of taklakot had disposed of the bear-skin before he had even caught the bear. the lamas mistook me for a hindoo doctor, owing to the color of my face, which was sunburnt, and had long remained unwashed. i wore no disguise. they thought that i was on a pilgrimage round the mansarowar lake. they appeared anxious to know whether illnesses were cured by occult science in india, or by medicine only. i, who, on the other hand, was more interested in getting information than in giving it, turned the conversation on the lamas themselves. there are sects of red, yellow, white, and black lamas. the red ones are the older and more numerous throughout the country. next to them come the yellow lamas, the _gelupkas_, equally powerful in political and religious matters, but not quite so numerous. the white lamas and the black lamas, the _julinba_, are the craftsmen in the monasteries. they do the painting, printing, pottery, and the ornamentation of temples, besides attending on the other lamas and making themselves useful in the capacities of cooks, shepherds, water-carriers, writers, and last, but not least, executioners. the lamaseries are usually rich. the tibetans are a deeply devout race, and the lamas are not backward in extorting money, under pretences of all kinds, from the ignorant worshippers. besides attending to their religious functions, the lamas are traders. they carry on a brisk money-lending business, charging a high interest, which falls due every month. if this should remain unpaid, all the property of the borrower is seized, and if insufficient to repay the loan the debtor himself becomes a slave of the monastery. the well-fed countenances of the lamas are, with few exceptions, evident proof that notwithstanding their occasional bodily privations, they do not allow themselves to suffer in any way. they lead a smooth and comfortable existence of comparative luxury. the larger lamaseries receive a yearly government allowance. considerable sums are collected from offerings of the faithful, and other moneys are obtained in all sorts of ways which, in any country less religious than tibet, would be considered dishonorable and even criminal. in tibet it is well known that, except in the larger towns, nearly all people, excluding brigands and lamas, are poor, while the monks and their agents thrive on the fat of the land. the masses are maintained in complete ignorance. seldom is a layman found who can read or write. the lamaseries and the lamas, as well as the land and property belonging to them, are absolutely free from all taxes and dues. each lama and novice is supported for life, and receives an allowance of _tsamba_, bricks of tea, and salt. the lamas are recruited from all ranks. honest folks, murderers, thieves, swindlers--all are eagerly welcomed in joining the brotherhood. one or two male members of each family in tibet take monastic orders, and thus the monks obtain a powerful influence over each house or tent-hold. it is hardly an exaggeration to say that in tibet half the members of the male population are lamas. in each monastery are found lamas, chibbis,[ ] and a lower grade of ignorant and depraved lamas--slaves, as it were, of the higher lamas. the latter dress, and have clean-shaven heads like their superiors. they do all the handiwork of the monastery; but they are mere servants, and take no direct, active part in the politics of the lama government. the chibbis are novices. they enter the lamasery when young, and remain students for many years. they are constantly under the teaching and supervision of the older ones. confession is practised, from inferior to superior. after undergoing successfully several examinations, a chibbi becomes a lama, which word translated means "high-priest." these chibbis take minor parts in the strange religious ceremonies in which the lamas, disguised in skins and ghastly masks, sing and dance with extraordinary contortions to the accompaniment of weird music of bells, horns, flutes, cymbals, and drums. each large monastery has at its head a grand lama, not to be confounded with the dalai lama of lhassa, who is believed, or rather supposed, to have an immortal soul transmigrating from one body into another. the lamas eat, drink, and sleep together in the monastery, with the exception of the grand lama, who has a room to himself. for one "moon" in every twelve they observe a strict seclusion, which they devote to praying. during that time they are not allowed to speak. they fast for twenty-four hours at a time, with only water and butter-tea, eating on fast-days only sufficient food to remain alive, and depriving themselves of everything else, including snuff and spitting--the two most common habits among tibetan men. the lamas have great pretensions to infallibility, and on account of this they claim, and obtain, the veneration of the people, by whom they are supported, fed, and clothed. i found the lamas, as a rule, intelligent, but inhuman, even barbarously cruel and dishonorable. this was not my own experience alone. i heard the same from the overridden natives, who wished for nothing better than a chance to shake off their yoke. availing themselves of the absolute ignorance in which they succeed in keeping the people, the lamas practise to a great extent strange arts, by which they profess to cure illnesses, discover murders and thefts, stop rivers from flowing, and bring storms about at a moment's notice. certain ceremonies, they say, drive away the evil spirits that cause disease. the lamas are adepts at hypnotic experiments, by which means they contrive to let the subjects under their influence see many things which are not there in reality. to this power are due the frequent reports of apparitions of buddha, seen generally by single individuals, and the visions of demons, the accounts of which terrify the simple-minded natives. rather than get more closely acquainted with these evil spirits the ignorant pay the monastery whatever little cash they may possess. mesmerism plays an important part in the weird lama dances, which show the strangest kind of movements and attitudes. the dancer finally falls into a cataleptic state, and remains rigid, as if dead, for a long time. the larger lamaseries support one or more lama sculptors, who travel to the most inaccessible spots in the district, in order to carve on cliffs, rocks, stones, or on pieces of horn, the everlasting inscription, "_omne mani padme hun_," which one sees all over the country. weird and picturesque places, such as the highest points on mountain passes, gigantic bowlders, rocks near the sources of rivers, or any spot where a _mani_ wall exists, are the places most generally selected by these artists upon which to engrave the magic words alluding to the reincarnation of buddha from a lotus flower. the prayer-wheels, those mechanical contrivances by which the tibetans pray to their god by means of water, wind, and hand power, are also manufactured by lama artists. the larger ones, moved by water, are constructed by the side of, or over, a stream. the huge cylinders on which the entire tibetan prayer-book is inscribed are revolved by the flowing water. the prayers moved by wind-power are merely long strips of cloth on which prayers are often printed. as long as there is motion there is prayer, say the tibetans, so these strips of cloth are left to flap in the wind. the small prayer-wheels, revolved by hand, are of two different kinds, and are made either of silver or copper. those for home use are cylinders about six inches high. inside these revolve on pivots the rolls of prayers which, by means of a projecting knob above the machine, the worshipper sets in motion. the prayers can be seen revolving inside through a square opening in the cylinder. the prayer-wheel in every-day use in tibet is usually constructed of copper, sometimes of brass, and frequently entirely, or partly, of silver. the cylinder has two movable lids, between which the prayer-roll fits tightly. a handle with an iron rod is passed through the centre of the cylinder and roll, and is kept in its place by means of a knob. a ring, encircling the cylinder, is attached to a short hanging chain and weight. this, when started by a jerk of the hand, gives the wheel a rotatory movement, which must, according to rule, be from left to right. the words "_omne mani padme hun_," or simply "_mani, mani_," are repeated while the wheel is in motion. the more ancient wheels have prayers written by hand instead of being printed. charms, such as rings of malachite, jade, bone, or silver, are often attached to the weight and chain by which the rotatory movement is given to the wheel. these praying-machines are found in every tibetan family. every lama possesses one. they are kept jealously, and it is difficult for strangers to purchase the genuine ones. besides the rosary, which is used as with the roman catholics, one prayer for each bead, the lamas have a brass instrument which they twist between the palms of their hands while saying prayers. it is from two and a half to three inches long, and is rounded so as to be easily held in the hollow of the two hands. in tibet, as in other buddhist countries, there are nunneries as well as lamaseries. the nuns, most unattractive in themselves, shave their heads, and practise witchcraft and magic, just as the lamas do. they are looked down upon by the masses. in some of these nunneries strict confinement is actually enforced. the women of the nunneries are quite as immoral as their brethren of the lamaseries, and at their best they are but a low type of humanity. the only lamas who, at certain periods of the year, are legally allowed an unusual amount of freedom with women, are those who practise the art of making musical instruments and eating-vessels out of human bones. the skull is used for making drinking-cups, _tsamba_ bowls, and single and double drums. the bone of the upper arm, thigh-bone, and shin-bone are turned into trumpets and pipes. these particular lamas are said to relish human blood, which they drink out of the cups made from men's skulls. when i left the gomba--my new friends, the lamas, bowing down to the ground as i departed--i walked about the village to examine all there was to be seen. along the water's edge at the east end of the village stood in a row a number of tumbling-down choktens of mud and stone. these structures consisted of a square base surmounted by a moulding, and an upper decoration in ledges, topped by a cylindrical column. each was supposed to contain a piece of bone, cloth, or metal, and books or parts of them, that had once belonged to a great man or a saint. roughly drawn images were occasionally found in them. in rare cases, when cremation had been applied, the ashes were collected in a small earthenware urn and deposited in one of the choktens. the ashes were made into a paste with clay, and then flattened into a medallion on which a representation of buddha was either stamped from a mould or engraved with a pointed tool. the interior of the houses at tucker was no better than the outside. each habitation had a walled court-yard. the top of the wall, as well as the edge of the flat roof of the house, was lined with masses of tamarisk for fuel. in the court-yard sheep and goats were penned at night. the human beings who occupied the rooms were dirty beyond all description. there were hundreds of flying-prayers over the monastery, as well as over each house. the people, laughing and chatting, stood on the roofs watching us. while i was strolling about some fifty or sixty men armed with matchlocks and swords appeared on the scene. i looked upon them with suspicion, but kachi reassured me, and said they were not soldiers, but a powerful band of robbers encamped about half a mile off, and on friendly terms with the lamas. as a precaution i loaded my rifle. this was quite sufficient to cause a stampede of the armed crowd, followed, in the panic, by all the other villagers who had collected round us. like all tibetans, they were a miserable lot, though powerfully built and with plenty of bluster about them. early in the morning i had made inquiries about provisions, and had arranged for the purchase of two fat sheep and some four hundred and fifty pounds of food--flour, rice, _tsamba_, _ghur_ (sweet paste), sugar, salt, and butter. several tibetans stated they could supply me with any quantity i required. among others was a shoka trader from buddhi, who promised to bring me, within an hour, a sufficient quantity of food to last us ten men twenty-five days. i noticed, when these men left, that two of my shokas ran after them, and entered into an excited discussion with them. some two or three hours later the traders returned, swearing that not an ounce of food could be obtained in the place. the way in which these men could lie was marvellous. i reprimanded my shokas, threatening to punish them severely if my suspicions of their treachery proved to be well founded. the shokas, finding themselves discovered, and through fear of the tibetans, were now again demoralized. it was no use keeping them by force, and i decided to discharge them. from the moment i had entered the forbidden country i had been compelled to protect myself against them quite as much as against the tibetans. i reflected, however, when i made up my mind to let them go, that these fellows had stood for my sake hardships and privations which few men could stand. in paying them off i therefore rewarded them suitably, and in their gratitude they undertook to bring back safely across the frontier part of my baggage containing photographs, ethnological collections, etc. this promise was duly fulfilled. with infinite trouble i then managed to purchase enough provisions to last five men ten days. the whole party accompanied me three and a quarter miles farther, where in sight of the tumbling-down panku gomba, a mile to the west of us, we halted in order to make the necessary arrangements for our parting, unseen by the tibetans. i took observations for latitude and longitude. the water of the hypsometrical apparatus boiled at ° fahrenheit, fifty feet above the level of the lake, the temperature of the air being ° and the hour a.m. we could see a high snowy chain to the south of us, extending approximately from south-west to north-east, starting from the nimo namzil peak. when everything was ready the five shokas, including kachi and dola, left me, swearing by the sun and all that they held most sacred that they would in no way betray me to the tibetans. bijesing the johari and nattoo agreed to accompany me as far as the maium pass, so that my party, including myself, now was reduced to only five men. footnotes: [footnote : _chibbis_--also frequently pronounced _chabis_.] chapter xiv another disaster everything promised well when, with my reduced party, i started toward the north-east, first skirting the lake for three and a quarter miles, then ascending over the barren hill ranges in an easterly direction for a distance of twelve miles. the journey was uneventful. my four men seemed in the best of spirits. we descended to a plain where water and grass could be found. having come upon a camping-ground with a protecting wall, such as are usually put up by tibetans at their halting-places, we made ourselves comfortable for the night, notwithstanding the high wind and a passing storm of hail and rain, which drenched us to the skin. the thermometer during the night went down to °. at sunrise i started to make a reconnaissance from the top of a high hill wherefrom i could get a bird's-eye view of a great portion of the surrounding country. it was of the utmost importance for me to find out which would be the easiest way to get through the intricate succession of hills and mountains, and i also wished to ascertain the exact direction of a large river to the north of us, which discharged its waters into the mansarowar. i started alone. a three and a half miles' climb brought me to the summit of a hill, , feet, where i was able to ascertain all i wished to know. i returned to camp, and we proceeded on a course of ° ', crossing over a pass , feet high. then we found ourselves in front of a hill, the summit of which resembled a fortress, with flying-prayers flapping in the wind. at the foot of the hill were some twenty ponies grazing. [illustration: a natural castle] with the aid of my telescope i made sure that what at first appeared to be a castle was nothing but a work of nature. apparently no one was concealed up there. the ponies, however, indicated the presence of men, and we had to proceed with caution. in fact, rounding the next hill, we discerned in the grassy valley below a number of black tents, two hundred yaks, and about a thousand sheep. we kept well out of sight behind the hill. we went a long way around it, and at last descended into an extensive valley. the river described a semicircle through this valley, close to the southern hill range, and it was joined by a tributary coming from the south-east. this tributary at first appeared to me larger than what i afterward recognized to be the main stream. i followed its course for four miles, but found that it was taking me in a more southerly direction than i wished, and had to retrace my steps along a flattish plateau. meeting two tibetan women, i purchased, after endless trouble, a fat sheep out of a flock they were driving before them. these two females carried rope slings in their hands. the accuracy with which they could fling stones and hit the mark at great distances was really marvellous. for a few coppers they gave an exhibition of their skill, hitting any sheep they liked in their flock, even at distances of thirty and forty yards. i tried to obtain from these dangerous creatures a little information about the country, but they professed absolute ignorance. "we are servants," they said, "and we know nothing. we know each sheep in our flock, and that is all. our lord, whose slaves we are, knows all. he knows where the rivers come from, and the ways to all gombas. he is a great king." "and where does he live?" i inquired. "there, two miles off, where that smoke rises to the sky." the temptation was great to go and call on this "great king," who knew so many things. we might probably persuade him to sell us provisions. as we had none too many, they would be of great assistance to us. anyhow the visit would be interesting. i decided to risk it. we steered toward the several columns of smoke that rose before us, and at last we approached a large camp of black tents. our appearance caused a commotion. men and women rushed in and out of their tents in great excitement. "_jogpas! jogpas!_" (brigands! brigands!) somebody in their camp shouted. in a moment their matchlocks were made ready, and the few men who had remained outside the tents drew their swords, holding them clumsily in their hands in a way hardly likely to terrify any one. to be taken for brigands was a novel experience for us. the war-like array was in strange contrast to the terrified expressions on the faces of those who stood there armed. in fact, when chanden sing and i walked forward and encouraged them to sheathe their steels and put their matchlocks by, they readily followed our advice, and brought out rugs for us to sit upon. having overcome their fright, they were most anxious to be pleasant. "_kiula gunge gozai deva labodù_" (you have nice clothes). i began the conversation, attempting flattery, to put the chieftain at his ease. "_lasso, leh_" (yes, sir), answered the tibetan, apparently astonished, and looking at his own attire with an air of comical pride. his answer was sufficient to show me that the man considered me his superior. had he thought me an equal or inferior he would have said _lasso_ without the _leh_. "_kiula tuku taka zando?_" (how many children have you?) i rejoined. "_ni_" (two). "_chuwen bogpe, tsamba, chon won ì?_" (will you sell me flour or _tsamba_?) "_middù_" (have not got any) he replied, making several quick semicircular movements with the upturned palm of his right hand. this is a most characteristic gesture of the tibetan, and nearly invariably accompanies the word "no," instead of a movement of the head, as with us. "_keran ga naddoung?_" (where are you going?) he asked me, eagerly. "_nhgarang ne koroun!_" (i am a pilgrim!) "_lungba quorghen neh jelghen_" (i go looking at sacred places). "_gopria zaldo. chakzal wortzé. tsamba middù. bogpe middù, guram middù, dié middù, kassur middù_" (i am very poor. please hear me. i have no _tsamba_, no flour, no sweet paste, no rice, no dried fruit). this, of course, i knew to be untrue. i calmly said that i would remain seated where i was until food was sold to me. at the same time i produced one or two silver coins, the display of which in tibet was always the means of hastening the transaction of business. in small handfuls, after each of which the tibetans swore that they had not another particle to sell, i managed, with somewhat of a trial to my patience, to purchase some twenty pounds of food. the moment the money was handed over they had a quarrel among themselves about its division, and they almost came to blows. greed and avarice are the most marked characteristics of the tibetans. tibetans of any rank are not ashamed to beg in the most abject manner for the smallest silver coin. the men of the party were picturesque. they had flat, broad noses, high cheek-bones, and small, slanting (mere slits), piercing eyes. their hair was plaited in long pig-tails ornamented with pieces of red cloth, discs of ivory, and silver coins. nearly all wore the typical dark-red coat, with ample sleeves hanging over the hands, and pulled up at the waist to receive eating-bowls, snuff-box, and other articles of daily use. all were armed with jewelled swords. they stood at a respectable distance, studying our faces and watching our movements with apparent interest. i have hardly ever seen such cowardice as among these big, hulking fellows. to a european it scarcely seemed conceivable. the mere raising of one's eyes was sufficient to make a man dash away frightened. with the exception of the chief, who pretended to be unafraid, notwithstanding that he was trembling with fear, they one and all showed ridiculous nervousness when i approached them to examine the ornaments they wore round their necks, such as the charm-boxes that dangled prominently on their chests. the larger of these charm-boxes contained an image of buddha, the others were mere empty brass or silver cases. when night came i did not consider it safe to encamp near the tibetans. we moved away, driving our yaks before us and dragging the newly purchased sheep. we marched two and a half miles, and then halted in a depression ( , feet), where we had a little shelter from the wind, which blew with great force. to our right was a short range of fairly high mountains stretching from north to south. through a gorge flowed a large stream. at that time of the evening we could not hope to cross it, but an attempt might be made in the morning, when the cold of the night would have checked the melting of the snows, and therefore lowered the level of the water in the river. heavy showers had fallen during the day. the moment the sun went down there was a regular downpour. we had pitched our little shelter-tent, but we had to clear out of it a couple of hours later, the small basin in which we had pitched it having turned into a regular pond. there was no alternative for us but to come out into the open. where the water did not flood us the wind was so high and the ground so moist that it was not possible to keep our tent up. the pegs would not hold. the hours of the night seemed long as we sat tightly wrapped in our waterproofs, with feet, hands, and ears almost frozen. at dawn there were no signs of the storm abating. we had not been able to light a fire in the evening, nor could we light one now. we were cold, hungry, and miserable. the thermometer had been down to °. toward noon, the rain still pouring down in torrents and there being no sign of its clearing, we loaded our yaks and entered the gorge between the snow-covered mountains. with difficulty we crossed the tributary we had so far followed, and then proceeded along the right bank of the main stream. we were so exhausted and wet that when near the evening we came to an enormous cliff, on the rocky face of which a patient lama sculptor had engraved in huge letters the characters, _omne mani padme hun_, we halted. the gorge was very narrow here. we found a dry spot under a big bowlder, but as there was not sufficient room for all five, the two shokas went under the shelter of another rock a little way off. this seemed natural enough. i took care of the weapons and the scientific instruments, while the shokas had under their own sheltering bowlder the bags containing nearly all our provisions except the reserve of tinned meats. the rain pelted all night, the wind howled. again we could not light a fire. the thermometer did not descend below °, but the cold, owing to our drenched condition, seemed intense. in fact, we were so chilled that we did not venture to eat. crouching in the small dry space at our disposal and without tasting food, we eventually fell fast asleep. i slept soundly for the first time since i had been in tibet. it was broad daylight when i woke up. [illustration: camp with gigantic inscriptions] taking advantage of the storm, the men nattoo and bijesing had escaped during the night with the loads intrusted to them. i discovered their tracks, half washed away, in the direction from which we had come the previous night. the rascals had bolted, and there would have been comparatively little harm in that, if only they had not taken with them all the stock of provisions for my two hindoo servants, and a quantity of good rope, straps, and other articles, which we were bound to miss at every turn, and which we had absolutely no means of replacing. of thirty picked servants who had started with me, twenty-eight had now abandoned me. only two remained faithful: chanden sing and mansing the leper! the weather continued horrible. no food for my men and no fuel! i proposed to the two hindoos to go back also and let me continue alone. i described to them the dangers of following me farther, and warned them fully, but they absolutely refused to leave me. "sir, we are not shokas," were their words. "if you die, we will die with you. we fear not death. we are sorry to see you suffer, sir, but never mind us. we are only poor people, therefore it is of no consequence." this last disaster should, i suppose, have deterred us from further progress. it somehow made me even more determined to persist than before. it was no light job to have to run afield to capture the yaks, which had wandered off in search of grass; and having found them and driven them back to our primitive camping-place, to tie upon their backs the pack-saddles, and fasten on them the heavy tin-lined cases of scientific instruments and photographic plates. this task was only part of the day's work, which included the writing up of my diary, the registering of observations, sketching, photographing, changing plates in cameras, occasionally developing negatives, surveying, cleaning rifles, revolver, etc. the effort of lifting up the heavy cases on to the pack-saddles was, owing to our exhausted condition, a severe tax on our strength. the tantalizing restlessness of the yaks forced us to make many attempts before we actually succeeded in properly fastening the loads, particularly as the shoka deserters had stolen our best pieces of rope and the leather straps. one of the remaining pieces of rope was hardly long enough to make the final knot to one of the girths. neither chanden sing nor mansing had sufficient strength to pull and make it join. i made them hold the yak by the horns to keep him steady while i pulled my hardest. i succeeded with a great effort, and was about to get up when a terrific blow from the yak's horn struck me in the skull an inch behind my right ear and sent me rolling head over heels. i was stunned for several moments. i gradually recovered, but the back of my head was swollen and sore for many days after. we proceeded along the right bank of the river between reddish hills and distant high snowy mountains to the north-west and east-south-east of us, which we saw from time to time when the rain ceased and the sky cleared. the momentary lifting of the clouds was ever followed by another downpour. marching became unpleasant and difficult, sinking, as we were, deep in the mud. toward evening we suddenly discovered some hundred and fifty soldiers riding full gallop in pursuit of us along the river valley. we pushed on, and having got out of their sight behind a hill, we changed our course and rapidly climbed up to the top of the hill range. my two men with the yaks concealed themselves on the other side. i remained lying flat on the top of the hill, spying with my telescope the movements of our pursuers. they rode unsuspectingly on, the tinkling of their horse-bells sounding pleasant to the ear in that deserted spot. thinking that we had continued our way along the river, they rode beyond the spot where we had left the path. owing to their haste to catch us up, they did not notice our tracks up the hillside. rain began to fall heavily again, and we remained encamped at , feet, with our loads ready for flight at any moment. the night was spent none too comfortably. i sat up all night, rifle in hand, in case of a surprise, and i was indeed glad when morning came. the rain had stopped, but we were now enveloped in a white mist which chilled us. i was tired. chanden sing was intrusted to keep a sharp watch while i tried to sleep. "_hazur, hazur, jaldi apka banduk!_" (sir, sir, quick, your rifle!) muttered my servant, rousing me. "do you hear the sound of bells?" the tinkling was quite plain. our pursuers were approaching, evidently in strong force. there was no time to be lost. to successfully evade them appeared impossible. i decided to meet them rather than attempt flight. chanden sing and i were armed with our rifles, mansing with his gourkha knife. we awaited their arrival. there came out of the mist a long procession of gray, phantom-like figures, each one leading a pony. the advance-guard stopped from time to time to examine the ground; having discovered our footprints only partially washed away by the rain, they were following them up. seeing us at last on the top of the hill, they halted. there was a commotion among them. they held an excited consultation. some of them unslung their matchlocks, others drew their swords, while we sat on a rock above and watched them attentively. after hesitating a little, four officers signalled to us that they wished to approach. "you are a great king," shouted one at the top of his voice, "and we want to lay these presents at your feet." he pointed to some small bags which the other three men were carrying. "_gelbo! chakzal! chakzal!_" (we salute you, king!) i felt anything but regal after the wretched night we had spent, but i wished to treat the natives with due deference and politeness whenever it was possible. i said that four men might approach, but the bulk of the party must withdraw to a spot about two hundred yards away. this they immediately did--a matter of some surprise to me after the war-like attitude they had assumed at first. they laid their matchlocks down in the humblest of fashions, and duly replaced their swords in their sheaths. the four officers approached, and when quite close to us, threw the bags on the ground and opened them to show us the contents. there was _tsamba_, flour, _chura_ (a kind of cheese), _guram_ (sweet paste), butter, and dried fruit. the officers were most profuse in their salutations. they had removed their caps and thrown them on the ground, and they kept their tongues sticking out of their mouths until i begged them to draw them in. they professed to be the subordinates of the tokchim tarjum, who had despatched them to inquire after my health, and who wished me to look upon him as my best friend. well aware of the difficulties we must encounter in travelling through such an inhospitable country, the tarjum, they said, wished me to accept the gifts they now laid before me. with these they handed me a _kata_, or "the scarf of love and friendship," a long piece of thin silk-like gauze, the end of which had been cut into a fringe. in tibet these _katas_ accompany every gift. a caller is expected instantly on arrival to produce a _kata_ for presentation to his host. the high lamas sell _katas_ to devotees. one of these scarves is presented to those who leave a satisfactory offering after visiting a lamasery. if a verbal message is sent to a friend, a _kata_ is sent with it. among officials and lamas small pieces of this silk gauze are enclosed even in letters. not to give or send a _kata_ to an honored visitor is considered a breach of good manners, and is equivalent to a slight. i hastened to express my thanks for the tarjum's kindness, and i handed the messengers a sum in silver of three times the value of the articles presented. the men seemed pleasant and friendly, and we chatted for some time. much to my annoyance, poor mansing, bewildered at the sight of so much food, could no longer resist the pangs of hunger. caring little for the breach of etiquette and likely consequences, he proceeded to fill his mouth with handfuls of flour, cheese, and butter. this led the tibetans to suspect that we must be starving, and with their usual shrewdness they determined to take advantage of our condition. "the tarjum," said the oldest of the messengers, "wishes you to come back and be his guest. he will feed you and your men, and you will then go back to your country." "thank you," i replied; "we do not want the tarjum's food, nor do we wish to go back. i am greatly obliged for his kindness, but we will continue our journey." "then," angrily said a young and powerful tibetan, "if you continue your journey, we will take back our gifts." "and your _kata_!" i rejoined, flinging first the large ball of butter into his chest, and after it the small bags of flour, _tsamba_, cheese, fruit, etc., a minute earlier prettily laid out before us. this unexpected bombardment quite upset the tibetans, who, with powdered coats, hair, and faces, scampered away as best they could. chanden sing, always as quick as lightning when it was a case of hitting, pounded away with the butt of his rifle at the roundest part of one ambassador's body, when in his clumsy clothes he attempted to get up and run. mansing, the philosopher of our party, interrupted in his feed, but undisturbed by what was going on, picked up the fruit and cheese and pieces of butter scattered all over the ground, mumbling that it was a shame to throw away good food in such a reckless fashion. the soldiers, who had been watching attentively from a distance the different phases of the interview, considered it prudent to beat a hasty retreat. mounting their steeds with unmistakable despatch, they galloped in confusion down the hill, and then along the valley of the river, until they were lost to sight in the mist. the ambassadors, who had been unable to rejoin their ponies, followed on foot as quickly as possible under the circumstances, with due allowance for the rarefied air and rough ground. their cries of distress, caused by fear alone, for we had done them no real harm, served to strengthen the contempt in which my men by now held the tibetan soldiers and their officers. the scene was truly comical. we laughed heartily. when the tibetans were out of sight, chanden sing and i pocketed our pride and helped mansing to collect the dried dates, apricots, the pieces of _chura_, butter, and _guram_. then, having loaded our yaks, we marched on. chapter xv followed by tibetan soldiers we were not in luck. the weather continued squally in the morning, and in the afternoon the rain was again torrential. we went over uninteresting and monotonous gray country. a chain of snowy peaks stretched from south-west to north-east. we waded through a fairly deep and cold river, and afterward climbed over a pass , feet high. a number of tibetans with flocks of several thousand sheep came in sight, but we avoided them. they did not see us. at the point where we crossed it, the main stream described a graceful bend. we climbed over undulating and barren country to an elevation of , feet, where we found several small lakelets. having marched that day fourteen and a half miles in a drenching rain, we descended into a large valley. here we had great difficulty in finding a spot where to rest for the night. the plain was simply a swamp, with several lakes and ponds, and we sank everywhere in mud and water. all our bedding and clothes were soaked to such an extent that it really made no difference where we halted, so we pitched our little tent on the bank of a stream intersecting a valley to the north. extending in an easterly direction along the valley rose a series of mountains shaped like pyramids, covered with snow and all of almost equal height. to the south were high peaks with great quantities of snow upon them. the valley in which we camped was at an elevation of , feet. the cold was intense. [illustration: torrential rain] at night the rain came down in bucketfuls, and our _tente d'abri_ gave us but little shelter. we were lying in water. all the trenches in the world could not have kept the water from streaming into our tent. in fact, it is no exaggeration to say that the whole valley was a sheet of water varying from one to several inches deep. of course, we suffered intensely from cold, the thermometer dropping to ° at p.m., when a south-east wind began to blow furiously. rain fell, mixed with sleet, for a time, and was followed by a heavy snow-storm. we lay crouched up on the top of our baggage, so as not to lie on the frozen water. when we woke in the morning our tent had half collapsed, owing to the weight of snow upon it. during the day the temperature went up and rain fell afresh, so that when we resumed our marching we sank in a mixture of mud, snow, and water several inches deep. we had to cross three rivers and to skirt five lakes of various sizes. seven miles of this dreary marching saw us encamped ( , feet) at the foot of a conical hill , feet high, where an almost identical repetition of the previous night's experience took place. the thermometer was down at °, but fortunately the wind subsided at eight o'clock in the evening. as luck would have it, the sun came out the following day, and we were able to spread out all our things to dry. we had yet another novel experience. our two yaks had disappeared. i climbed up to the summit of the hill above camp, and with my telescope scoured the plain. the two animals were some distance off, being led away by ten or twelve men on horseback, who drove in front of them a flock of about five hundred sheep. by their clothing i recognized the strangers to be robbers. naturally i started at once to recover my property, leaving chanden sing and mansing in charge of our camp. i caught them up as they were marching slowly, though, when they perceived me, they hastened on, trying to get away. i shouted three times to them to stop, but they paid no heed to my words. i unslung my rifle, and would have fired at them had the threat alone not been sufficient to make them reflect. they halted. when i got near enough i claimed my two yaks back. they refused to give them up. they said they were twelve men, and were not afraid of one. dismounted from their ponies, they seemed ready to attack me. as i saw them take out flint and steel in order to light the fusees of their matchlocks, i thought i might as well have my innings first. before they could guess my intention, i applied a violent blow with the muzzle of my rifle on the stomach of the man nearest to me. he collapsed, while i administered another blow in the right temple of another man who held his matchlock between his legs, and was on the point of striking his flint and steel in order to set the tinder on fire. he, too, staggered and fell clumsily. "_chakzal, chakzal! chakzal wortzié!_" (we salute you, we salute you! please listen!) exclaimed a third brigand, with an expression of dismay, and holding up his thumbs with his fist closed in sign of surrender. "_chakzal!_" (i salute you!) i replied, inserting a cartridge into the mannlicher rifle. "_middù, middù!_" (no, no!) they entreated, promptly laying down their weapons. i purchased from these men about thirty pounds of _tsamba_ and eight pounds of butter. i got one of them to carry the stuff to my camp, while i, without further trouble, recovered my yaks and drove them back to where chanden sing and mansing were busy lighting a fire to make some tea. toward noon, when our things had got almost dry in the warm sun, the sky became clouded, and again it began to rain heavily. i was rather doubtful as to whether i should go over a pass some miles off to the east, or should follow the course of the river and skirt the foot of the mountains. we saw a large number of tibetans travelling in the opposite direction to ours. they all seemed terrified when we approached them. we obtained from them a few more pounds of food, but they refused to sell us any sheep, of which they had thousands. i decided to attempt the first-mentioned route. making our way first over a continuation of the flat plateau, then over undulating ground, we came to two lakelets at the foot of the pass before us. the ascent was comparatively easy, over snow. we followed the river, which descended from the pass. about half-way up, on looking back, we saw eight soldiers galloping toward us. we waited for them. as soon as they came up to us they went through the usual servile salutations, depositing their weapons on the ground to show that they had no intention of fighting. a long, amiable conversation followed, the tibetans professing their friendship for us and their willingness to help us to get on in any way they could. this was rather too good to be true. i suspected treachery, all the more so when they pressed and entreated us to go back to their tents, where they wished to entertain us as their highly honored guests. they would shower upon us all the luxuries that human mind could conceive. these luxuries were found to consist of presents of _chura_, cheese, butter, yak milk, and _tsamba_. they said they would sell us ponies if we required them. the description was too glowing. taking all things into consideration, and allowing for the inaccuracy of speech of tibetans in general, i thanked them from the bottom of my heart, and answered that i preferred to continue my journey and bear my present sufferings. they perceived that i was not easy to catch. if anything, they respected me for it. in fact, they could not conceal their amazement at my having got so far into their country with only two men. after giving my visitors some little presents, we parted in a friendly manner. we climbed up to the pass ( , feet). before us, on the other side, some two thousand feet lower, was a large stretch of flat land. i could see a lake, which i took to be the gunkyo. to make certain of it, i left my men and yaks on the pass and went to reconnoitre from a peak , feet high north-east of us. there was much snow. the ascent was difficult and tedious. when i got to the top another high peak barred the view in front of me, so, descending first and then ascending again, i climbed this second summit, finally reaching an elevation of , feet, and obtaining a good bird's-eye view of the country all round. there was a long snowy range to the north, and directly under it what i imagined to be a stretch of water, judging from the mist and clouds forming directly above it and from the grass on the lower slopes of the mountains. a hill range stood in my way, just high enough to conceal the lake behind it. i rejoined my men. sinking in deep, soft snow, we continued our march down the other side of the pass. we pitched our tent at a place about five hundred feet higher than the plain below us, where the mountain sides were close together and formed a gorge. notwithstanding that i was now quite accustomed to great elevations, the ascent to , feet had caused a certain exhaustion, and i should have been glad of a good night's rest. mansing and chanden sing, having eaten some food, slept soundly, but i felt depressed. i had a peculiar sense of unrest and a presentiment that some misfortune would come to us during the night. we were all three under our little tent when i fancied there was some one outside. i did not know why the thought entered my head, for i heard no noise, but all the same i felt i must see for myself and satisfy my curiosity. i peeped out of the tent with my rifle in hand, and saw a number of black figures cautiously crawling toward us. in a moment i was outside on my bare feet, running toward them and shouting at the top of my voice, "_pila tedan tedang!_" (look out, look out!) which caused a stampede among our ghost-like visitors. there were, apparently, many of them hidden behind rocks, for when the panic seized them the number of runaways was double or even treble that of the phantoms i had at first seen approaching. at one moment there seemed to be black ghosts springing out from everywhere, only, more solid than ghosts, they made a loud noise with their heavy boots as they ran in confusion down the steep incline and through the gorge. they turned sharply round the hill at the bottom and disappeared. when i crawled inside the tent again chanden sing and mansing, wrapped head and all in their blankets, were still snoring! naturally i passed a sleepless night after that, fearing the unwelcome visitors might return. we speculated as to how the tibetans had found us, and we could not help surmising that our friends of the previous afternoon must have put them on our track. however, such was the inconceivable cowardice shown on every occasion by the tibetans, that we got to attach no importance to these incidents. indeed, the natives did not inspire us with fear. their visits had even ceased to excite or interest us. we went on as usual, descending to the plain. when we had got half-way across it i scoured the hills all round with my telescope to see if i could discern traces of our pursuers. "there they are!" cried chanden sing, who had the most wonderful eyesight of any man i have known. he pointed at the summit of a hill where, among the rocks, several heads could be seen peeping. we went on without taking notice of them. then they came out of their hiding-place, and we saw them descending the hill in a long line, leading their ponies. on reaching the plain they mounted their steeds and came full gallop our way. they were quite a picturesque sight in their dark-red coats, or brown and yellow skin robes and their vari-colored caps. some wore bright-red coats with gold braiding, and chinese caps. these were officers. the soldiers' matchlocks, to the props of which red or white flags were attached, gave an additional touch of color to the otherwise dreary scenery of barren hills and snow. the tinkling of the horse-bells enlivened the monotony of these silent, inhospitable regions. the tibetans dismounted some three hundred yards from us. one old man, throwing aside his matchlock and sword, walked unsteadily toward us. we received him kindly. he afforded us great amusement, for he was a strange character. "i am only a messenger," he hastened to state, "and therefore do not pour your anger upon me if i speak to you. i only convey the words of my officers, who do not dare to come for fear of being injured. news has been received at lhassa, from whence we have come, that a _plenki_ (an englishman) with many men is in tibet, and can be found nowhere. we have been sent to capture him. are you one of his advance-guard?" "no," i replied, dryly. "i suppose that you have taken several months to come from lhassa," i added, pretending ignorance. "oh no! our ponies are good," he answered, "and we have come quickly." "_chik, ni, sum, shi, nga, do, diu, ghieh, gu, chu, chuck chick, chuck ni_," the tibetan counted up to twelve, frowning and keeping his head inclined to the right, as if to collect his thoughts, at the same time holding up his hand, with the thumb folded against the palm, and turning down a finger as he called each number. the thumbs are never used in counting. "_lum chuck ni niman_" (twelve days), said he, "have we been on the road. we have orders not to return till we have captured the _plenki_. and you," asked he, inquisitively--"how long have you taken to come from ladak?" he said he could see by my face that i was a native of kashmere. i was probably so burnt and dirty that it was hard to distinguish me from a native. the old man cross-examined me to find out whether i was a native surveyor sent by the indian government to survey the country, and asked me why i had discarded my native clothes for _plenki_ (european) ones. he over and over again inquired whether i was not one of the _plenki's_ party. "_keran ga naddo ung?_" (where are you going?) he queried. "_nhgarang ne koroun lama jehlhuong_" (i am a pilgrim, going to visit monasteries). "_keran mi japodu_" (you are a good man). he offered to show me the way to the gunkyo lake, and was so pressing that i accepted. when i saw the two hundred soldiers mount and follow us, i remonstrated with him, saying that if we were to be friends we did not need an army to escort us. "if you are our friend, you can come alone, and we will not injure you," i gave him to understand. "but if you are our enemy, we will fight you and your army here at once, and we will save you the trouble of coming any farther." the tibetan, confused and hesitating, went to confabulate with his men, and returned some time after with eight of them, while the bulk of his force galloped away in the opposite direction. we went across the plain until we came to a hill range, which we crossed over a pass , feet high. then, altering our course, we descended and ascended several hills, and at last found ourselves in the sheltered grassy valley of the large gunkyo lake, extending from south-east to north-west. with a temperature of ° fahrenheit the water in the hypsometrical apparatus boiled at ° - / ' at . in the evening. the lake was of extraordinary beauty, with the high snowy gangri mountains rising almost sheer from its waters. on the southern side lofty hills formed a background wild and picturesque, but barren and desolate beyond words. at the other end of the lake, to the north-west, were lower mountains skirting the water. we encamped at , feet. the tibetan soldiers pitched their tent some fifty yards away. during the evening the tibetans came to my camp and made themselves useful. they helped us to get fuel, and brewed tea for me in tibetan fashion. they professed to hate the lamas, the rulers of the country, to whom they took special pleasure in applying names hardly repeatable in these pages. according to them, the lamas took all the money that came into the country, and no one else was allowed to have any. they were unscrupulous, cruel, and unjust. every man in tibet, they said, was a soldier in case of necessity, and every one a servant of the lamas. the soldiers of the regular army received a quantity of _tsamba_, bricks of tea and butter, but no money. usually they were provided with ponies to ride. when travelling on duty they had a right to obtain relays of animals at post-stations and villages, and they were also entitled to claim supplies of food, saddles, or anything else they required, to carry them as far as the next encampment. the weapons (sword and matchlock) generally belonged to the men themselves, but occasionally, in the larger towns, such as lhassa and sigatz, the lamas provided them. gunpowder and bullets were supplied by the authorities. the weapons were manufactured mostly in lhassa and sigatz. although the tibetans boasted of great accuracy in shooting with their matchlocks, which had wooden rests in order to allow the marksman to take a steady aim, i never saw even the champion shots of the country hit the mark. for sporting purposes and for economy's sake, the tibetan soldiers hardly ever used lead bullets or shot, but preferred to fill the barrels of their matchlocks with pebbles. gunpowder was so scarce that they seldom practised firing at a target. at sunrise the view of gunkyo was magnificent, with the snow-covered mountains tinted gold and red, and reflected in their smallest detail in the still waters of the lake. we loaded our yaks, the tibetans giving us a helping hand, and started toward the maium pass, following a river which throws itself into the gunkyo lake. the valley was narrow, and with many sharp turns. although the elevation was great, there was abundance of grass. the green was quite refreshing to the eyes, tired as we were of snow and reddish barren mountains and desert-like stretches of land. we came to a basin where, on the opposite bank of the stream, was a large tibetan camping-ground with a high wall of stones. behind it i could see smoke rising, which made me suspect that there were people concealed. our tibetan friends asked what were our intentions, and begged me to stop to talk and drink tea. i said i had had quite enough of both, and would proceed. "if you go on we will kill you!" shouted one soldier, getting into a temper, and taking advantage of our politeness toward him and his companions. "_nga samgi ganta indah_" (if you please), i answered, with studied courtesy. "if you go another step we will cut off your head, or you will have to cut off ours!" cried two or three others, stretching their bare necks toward me. "_taptih middù_" (i have not got a small knife), i replied, quite seriously, and with assumed disappointment, twirling my hand in the air in tibetan fashion. the tibetans did not know what to make of me. when i moved toward the pass, on which hundreds of flying-prayers flapped in the wind, i politely bade them good-bye with tongue out, and waving both my hands, palms upward, in front of my forehead in the most approved tibetan style. the soldiers took off their caps and humbly saluted us by going down on their knees and putting their heads close to the ground. we crossed the plain, and slowly wended our way up the pass. near the top we came to a track, the highway from ladak to lhassa _via_ gartok, along the northern side of the rakastal, mansarowar, and gunkyo lakes. on the pass itself were planted several poles connected by ropes, from which flying-prayers waved gayly in the breeze. _obos_, or mounds of stones, had been erected. the slabs used in the construction of these _obos_ were mostly white, and bore in many instances the inscription "_omne mani padme hun_." yak, goat, and sheep skulls were laid by the side of the _obos_, the above four words being engraved on the bone, and stained red with the blood of the animals killed. sacrifices are offered by tibetans when crossing a high pass, especially if there is a lama close at hand to commemorate the event. the meat of the animal killed is eaten by the people present. if the party is a large one, dancing and singing follow the feast. _obos_ are found all over the country, generally on passes or summits of hills. no tibetan ever goes by one of these _obos_ without depositing on it a white stone. chapter xvi first white man in the sacred province the maium pass ( , feet), as far as which no white man had ever penetrated, is a great landmark in tibet. not only does one of the sources of the great tsangpu, or brahmaputra river, rise on its south-east slopes, but it also separates the immense provinces of nari-khorsum (extending west of the maium pass and comprising the mountainous and lake region as far as ladak) from the yutzang, the central province of tibet, stretching east of the pass along the valley of the brahmaputra and having lhassa for its capital. the word _yu_ in tibetan means "middle." it is applied to this province because it occupies the centre of tibet. to the north of the maium lies the doktol province. i had taken a reconnoitring trip to another pass to the north-east of us, and had just returned to my men on the maium pass, when several of the tibetan soldiers we had left behind rode up toward us. we waited for them. their leader, pointing at the valley beyond the pass, cried: "that yonder is the lhassa territory, and we forbid you to enter it!" i took no notice of his protest, and driving before me the two yaks, i stepped into the most sacred of all the sacred provinces--"the ground of god," as they call it. we descended quickly on the eastern side of the pass, while the soldiers, aghast, remained watching us. they were a picturesque sight as they stood among the _obos_ against the sky-line, the sunlight shining on their jewelled swords and the gay red flags of their matchlocks. above their heads strings of flying-prayers waved in the wind. having watched us for a little while, they disappeared. a little rivulet, hardly six inches wide, descended among stones in the centre of the valley we were following, and was soon swollen by other rivulets from melting snows of the mountains on either side. this was one source[ ] of the great brahmaputra, one of the largest rivers in the world. i must confess that i felt somewhat proud to be the first white man who had ever reached these sources, and there was a certain childish delight in standing over this sacred stream, which, of such immense width lower down, could here be spanned by a man standing with legs slightly apart. we drank of its waters at the spot where it had its birth, and then, following a marked track to the south-east, we continued our descent on a gentle incline along a grassy valley. the change in the climate between the west and south-east sides of the maium pass was extraordinary. on the western side we had nothing but violent storms of hail, rain, and snow, the dampness in the air rendering the atmosphere cold even during the day. the soil was unusually marshy, and little fuel or grass could be found. the moment the pass was crossed we were in a mild, pleasant climate, with a lovely deep-blue sky over us. we found plenty of grass for our yaks and low shrubs for our fires. after all our sufferings and privations, we felt that we had indeed entered the land of god. i expected great trouble sooner or later, but i was not sorry i had disobeyed the soldiers' orders and had marched straight into the most forbidden province of the forbidden land. there is always satisfaction in doing what is forbidden. the brahmaputra received three small snow-fed tributaries descending from the steep mountains on either side of us. where the main stream turned sharply south, a fourth and important tributary, carrying a large volume of water, came down through a gorge from the north-north-east. we encamped near the junction of these rivers, on the right bank of the main stream, at an elevation of , feet. from the maium pass a continuation of the gangri chain of mountains stretched first in a south-easterly direction, then due east, in a line almost parallel to the higher southern range of the himahlyas. between these two ranges was an extensive plain intersected by the brahmaputra. on the southern side of the river were minor hill ranges between the river course and the big range of majestic snowy peaks. although no peaks of considerable elevation were to be found along the range north of the brahmaputra, yet it was of geographical importance, as its southern slopes formed the northern watershed of the holy river as far as lhassa. the valley enclosed between these two parallel ranges was the most thickly populated part of tibet. grass was abundant, and fuel easily obtainable. thousands of yaks, sheep, and goats could be seen grazing near the many tibetan camps along the brahmaputra and its principal tributaries. the trade route of caravans from ladak to lhassa followed this valley. as i had come to tibet to see and study the tibetans, i thought that, although i might run greater risks, i could in no part of the country accomplish my object better than by going along this thickly populated track. we slept little. we expected the soldiers to attack us during the night to try and stop our progress, but all was quiet and nothing happened. our yaks got loose, and we had difficulty in recovering them in the morning. they had swum across the stream, and had gone about a mile on the other side. the night had been very cold, the thermometer dropping as low as - / °. we did not pitch our little tent, as we wanted to be ready in case of attack. we were tired and cold after the long march of the previous day. there was a south-westerly breeze blowing. it was hard work to have to cross the river, chase the yaks and bring them back to camp; then, exhausted as we were, to get the loads on them. we followed the stream on the right bank. it wound in and out between barren hills, afterward flowing through a grassy valley three-quarters of a mile wide and a mile and a half long. it then went through a narrow passage and farther through an undulating grassy valley two miles wide. we were caught in a terrific thunder-storm, with hail and rain. this was an annoying experience. we were now before a large tributary of the brahmaputra. the stream was so swollen, rapid, and deep that i was much puzzled as to how i could take my men across. they could not swim, and the water was so cold that a plunge in it would give a severe shock. there was no time to be lost. the river was visibly rising, and as the storm was getting worse, difficulties would increase every moment. we took off our clothes and fastened them, with our rifles, etc., on the pack-saddles of the yaks, which we sent into the water. these animals were good swimmers. the current carried them more than a hundred yards down-stream, but to our satisfaction they scrambled out of the water on to the opposite bank. notwithstanding the faith that chanden sing and mansing had in my swimming, they really thought their last hour had come when i took each by the hand and led them into the stream. we had hardly gone twelve yards, with water up to our necks, when the inevitable took place. we were all three swept away. chanden sing and mansing, in their panic, clung tight to my arms and dragged me under water. i swam my hardest with my legs. we came to the surface several times and then sank again, owing to the dead weight of my helpless companions. at last, after a desperate struggle, the current washed us on the opposite bank, where we hastily scrambled out of the treacherous river. we were some two hundred yards down-stream from the spot at which we had entered the river, and such was the quantity of muddy water we had swallowed that we all three became sick. this left us much exhausted. as the storm showed no signs of abating, we encamped, at an elevation of , feet, there and then on the left bank of the stream. though we sadly needed warm food, there was no possibility of lighting a fire in such torrential rain. a piece of chocolate was all i ate that night. my men preferred to eat nothing rather than break their caste by eating food prepared by european hands. we were asleep under our little tent, the hour being about eleven, when there was a noise outside as of voices and people stumbling against stones. i was out in a moment with my rifle, and shouted the usual "_paladò!_" (go away!) i could see nothing, owing to the darkness, but several stones flung from slings whizzed past me. one of these hit the tent. a dog barked furiously. i fired a shot, which had the good effect of producing a hasty retreat of our enemies. the dog remained barking all night. in the morning, when i gave him food and caressed him in tibetan fashion, with the usual words of endearment, "_chochu, chochu_," he rubbed himself against my legs as if he had known me all his life, and eventually lay down by the side of mansing, to whom he took a particular fancy. from that day the dog never left our camp, and followed us everywhere until harder times came upon us. the river was turning too much toward the south. i decided to abandon it and strike across country, especially as there were faint signs of a track leading over a pass to the east-south-east of our camp. i followed this track. along it i detected marks of hundreds of ponies' hoofs, now almost entirely washed away. this was evidently the way taken by the soldiers we had met on the other side of the maium pass. having risen over the pass, , feet high, we saw before us an extensive valley with barren hills scattered upon it. to the south we observed a large plain some ten miles wide, with snowy peaks rising on the farther side. in front was a hill and a _mani_ wall. this latter discovery made me feel quite confident that i was on the highroad to lhassa. about eight miles off to the north-north-west were high snowy peaks, and as we went farther we discovered a lofty mountain range, with still higher peaks, three miles behind it. we had travelled half-way across the waterless plain when we noticed a number of soldiers' heads and matchlocks popping in and out from behind a distant hill. after a while they came out in numbers to observe our movements, then retired again behind the hill. we proceeded. when we were still half a mile from them they abandoned their hiding-place and galloped away before us, raising clouds of dust. from a hill , feet high, over which the track crossed, we perceived a group of very high snowy peaks about eight miles distant. between them and us stood a range of hills cut by a valley, along which flowed a river carrying a large volume of water. this we followed, and crossed it at a suitable fording-place where the stream was twenty-five yards across. the water reached up to our waists. we found here another _mani_ wall with large inscriptions on stones. as the wind was high and cutting, we used the wall as a shelter for the night. we could see in the distance the snowy himahlyan chain. lower hill ranges were not more than three miles from camp. the river we had just crossed flowed into the brahmaputra. we were at an elevation of , feet. we saw plainly at sunset a number of black tents before us. we counted about sixty, and we calculated them to be two miles distant. near them were hundreds of black yaks. at sunrise the next morning, much to our surprise, the tents and yaks had vanished; nor, on marching in the direction where we had seen them the previous night, were we able to find traces of them. it must have been an effect of mirage. some fourteen miles away, in a grassy plain at the foot of the range extending from north-west to south-east, and with lofty snowy peaks in a direction of ° (bearings magnetic), we came upon a very large tibetan encampment of over eighty black tents. we were then at an elevation of , feet. the tents were pitched on the banks of another tributary of the brahmaputra, which, after describing a wide curve in the plain, passed west of the encampment. to the north-west, north, and north-east stood the chain of mountains which i had observed all along. the elevation of its peaks became gradually lower and lower, so much so that the name of "hill range" would be more appropriate to it than that of "mountain chain," that is to say, if the elevation of the plateau on which it stood were not taken into account. behind it, however, towered loftier peaks with snowy caps. we needed food, and so made boldly for the encampment. our approach caused a commotion. yaks and sheep were hastily driven away before us, while men and women rushed in and out of their tents, apparently in a state of great excitement. eight or ten men reluctantly came forward, and entreated us to go inside a large tent. they said they wished to speak to us, and offered us tea. i would not accept their invitation, distrusting them, but went on across the encampment, halting some three hundred yards beyond. chanden sing and i proceeded afterward on a round of calls at all the tents, trying to purchase food, and also to show that, if we had declined to enter a particular tent, it was not on account of fear, but because we did not want to be caught in a trap. our visit to the different _golingchos_ or _gurr_ (tents) was interesting enough. the tents themselves were cleverly constructed, and admirably adapted to the country in which they were used. the tents, black in color, were woven of yaks' hair, the natural greasiness of which made the cloth quite waterproof. they consisted of two separate pieces of thick material, supported by two poles at each end. there was an oblong aperture above in the upper part of the tent, through which the smoke escaped. the base of the larger tents was six-sided. the roof, at a height of six or seven feet above the ground, was kept tightly stretched by means of long ropes passing over high forked poles and the ends of which were pegged to the ground. many wooden and iron pegs were required to keep the bottom of the tent close to the ground all round, so as to protect its inmates from the cutting winds of the great plateau. outside each tent stood four long poles with white flying-prayers--one for each point of the compass. around the interior of the larger tents there was a wall from two to three feet high for protection against the wind, rain, and snow. these walls were constructed of dried dung, which, as time went on, was used as fuel. there were two apertures, one at either end of the tent. the one facing the wind was always kept closed by means of loops and wooden bolts. the tibetan is a born nomad, and shifts his dwelling with the seasons, wherever he can find grazing for his yaks and sheep. he knows how to make himself comfortable. for instance, in the centre of his tent he makes himself a _goling_, or fireplace of mud and stone, some three feet high, four or five feet long by one and a half wide, with two, three, or more side ventilators and draught-holes. by this ingenious contrivance he manages to increase the combustion of the dried dung, the most trying fuel from which to get a flame. on the top of this stove a suitable place is made to fit the several _raksangs_ (large brass pots and bowls), in which the brick tea, duly pounded first in a stone or wooden mortar, is boiled and stirred with a long brass spoon. a portable iron stand is generally to be seen somewhere in the tent, upon which the hot vessels are placed when they are removed from the fire. close to these is the _toxzum_ or _dongbo_, a cylindrical wooden churn, used for mixing the tea with butter and salt. the wooden cups or bowls used by the tibetans are called _pu-ku_, _fruh_, or _cariel_. in them _tsamba_ is eaten after tea has been poured on it, and the mixture worked into a paste by more or less dirty fingers. lumps of butter are mixed with this paste, and even bits of _chura_ (cheese). the richer people (officials) indulge in flour and rice, which they import from india and china, and in _kassur_, or dried fruit (dates and apricots) of inferior quality. the rice is boiled into a kind of soup called the _tupka_, a luxury only indulged in on grand occasions, when such other cherished delicacies as _gimakara_ (sugar) and _shelkara_ (lump white sugar) are also eaten. the tibetans are fond of meat, but few can afford to eat it. wild game, yak, and sheep are considered excellent food. the meat and bones are boiled in a cauldron with lavish quantities of salt and pepper. the inhabitants of this encampment were polite and talkative, but i was suspicious of their friendliness. they refused to sell us food, on the plea that they had none even for themselves. women and men formed a ring round us. i was particularly struck, not only in this encampment but in all others, by the small number of women to be seen in tibet. this is not because they are kept in seclusion. on the contrary, the ladies of the forbidden land seem to have it all their own way. they are actually in a minority, the proportion being, at a rough guess, backed by the wise words of a friendly lama, from fifteen to twenty males to each female in the population. all the same, the fair sex in tibet manages to rule the male majority, playing constantly into the hands of the lamas. the tibetan female, whether she be a lady, a shepherdess, or a brigandess, cannot be said to be prepossessing. in fact, it was not my luck to see a single good-looking woman in the country, although i naturally saw women who were less ugly than others. with the accumulated filth that from birth is undisturbed by soap, scrubbing, or bathing; with nose, cheeks, and forehead smeared with black ointment to prevent the skin cracking in the wind; and with the unpleasant odor that emanates from never-changed clothes, the tibetan woman is, at her best, repulsive to a european. after one has overcome one's first disgust, she yet has, at a distance, a certain charm of her own. she walks well, for she is accustomed to carry heavy weights on her head. her skull would be well-set upon her shoulders were it not that the neck is too short and thick to be graceful. her body and limbs possess great muscular strength, and are well developed, but generally lack firmness. she is heavily built, and inclined to stoutness. the tibetan woman is superior to the tibetan man. she possesses a better heart, more pluck, and a finer character than he. time after time, when the men, timid beyond all conception, ran away at our approach, the women remained in charge of the tents, and, although by no means cool or collected, they rarely failed to meet us without some show of dignity. in the tibetan encampment, when all were friendly, the women seemed less shy than the men, and conversed freely and incessantly. they even prevailed upon their masters to sell us a little _tsamba_ and butter. when a tibetan young man wishes to marry, he goes, accompanied by his father and mother, to the tent of the lady of his heart. there he is received by her relations, who have been previously notified of the intended call, and are found seated on rugs and mats awaiting the arrival of their guests. [illustration: tibetan women and children] after the usual courtesies and salutations, the young man's father asks, on behalf of his son, for the young lady's hand. if the answer is favorable, the suitor places a square lump of yak butter on his betrothed's forehead. she does the same for him, and the marriage ceremony is over, the buttered couple being man and wife. where there is a temple close by, _katas_, food, and money are laid before the images of buddha and saints, and the parties walk round the inside of the temple. where there is no temple, the husband and wife make the circuit of the nearest hill, or, in default of a hill, of a tent, always moving from left to right. this ceremony is repeated with prayers and sacrifices every day for a fortnight, during which time libations of wine and general feasting continue. after that the husband conveys his better half to his own tent. footnotes: [footnote : i visited the other source of the brahmaputra river on the return journey.] chapter xvii disaster at the river coming out of our tent in the morning, we noticed a commotion among the tibetans. a number of mounted men with matchlocks had arrived. others similarly armed joined them. they seemed excited. i kept my eye on them while i was cooking my food. there were some two hundred men in all, picturesquely garbed. they were good horsemen, and looked well as they rode in a line toward us. a little way off they stopped and dismounted. the leaders came forward, one stalwart fellow in a handsome sheepskin coat marching ahead of the rest. his attitude was arrogant. dispensing with the usual salutations, he approached quite close, shaking his fist at me. "_kiu mahla lokhna nga rah luck tiba tangan_" (i will give you a goat or a sheep if you will go back), he said. "_kiu donna nga di tangon!_" (and i give you this to make you go back!) was my quick answer, while i unexpectedly administered him one straight from the shoulder that sent him sprawling on the ground. the army, which, with its usual prudence, was watching events from a respectful distance, beat a hasty retreat. the officer scrambled away, screaming. the tibetans had so far behaved with such contemptible cowardice that we could hardly congratulate ourselves on such easy successes. we began to feel that really we had no enemy at all before us. we became even careless. we ate our food, and gave this affair but little thought. the tibetans did not trouble us again that day. those who had not ridden off retired timidly inside their black tents. not a soul was to be seen about in the encampment. i registered my daily observations, made a sketch of one of the black tents, and wrote up my diary. then we continued our journey. our progress was now comparatively easy, along a broad grassy plain. we proceeded in a south-easterly direction, observing a high snowy peak at ° (b.m.), and a low pass in the mountain range to our north-east. a high range stood ahead of us in the far distance. at the foot of a lonely hill we found an important _mani_ wall of great length, with numberless inscriptions of all ages and sizes on stones, pieces of bone, skulls, and horns. farther on, to the south, there were three small hillocks and two larger ones. the soldiers we had routed at the encampment had proceeded in the direction we were now following. we were, in fact, treading all along on the footmarks of their ponies. we had to cross a river and a number of rivulets. so troublesome was it each time to take off our shoes and clothes in order to wade through, that we bundled up our clothes on the yaks, and travelled along for the rest of the afternoon barefooted and with nothing on but a loincloth, in the style adopted by fakirs.[ ] the sun was extremely hot, the ground marshy, the air thick with huge and troublesome mosquitoes. we were quickly covered from head to foot with bites, which caused intense irritation. halting on the right bank of a large stream at , feet, we named this spot "mosquito camp." at sunset swarms of mosquitoes made us very miserable, but fortunately the moment the sun disappeared the thermometer fell to °, the mosquitoes vanished, and we had a peaceful night. in the evening we saw a number of horsemen riding full speed on a course about one mile south of ours. no doubt they were sent to keep the authorities ahead informed of our movements. the next day the water of the stream was so clear that we could not resist the temptation of having a good cleaning up, washing first our clothes and spreading them to dry in the sun, then cleansing our faces and bodies thoroughly with soap, a luxury unknown to us for ever so long. while--for lack of towels--i was drying myself in the sun, i admired the scenery around us. i registered at ° (b.m.) a very high snowy peak, and a lower one at ° ' forming part of a beautiful mountain chain. there were mountains on every side of the plain. another very high peak, of which i had taken bearings on a previous occasion, was at ° (b.m.). a break occurred in the hill range to our north-east, showing a narrow valley, beyond which were high snowy mountains. we made a long march along the grassy plain, and encamped on the bank of the brahmaputra, there a wide, deep, and rapid stream. we saw hundreds of _kiang_ and antelopes. shortly before sunset i took a walk toward the hills to try and bring back fresh meat to camp. i stalked a herd of antelopes. when some five miles from camp i was benighted, and on my return in the darkness had the greatest difficulty in finding my men. they had been unable to light a fire, and as they had both gone fast asleep, i received no answer to my calls. we had selected a sheltered hollow in the ground for our camp, and as there were hundreds of similar depressions everywhere round it, and no landmarks to guide me, it was not easy to identify the exact place. fortunately, at last, after i had shouted for some considerable time, chanden sing heard me. by the sound of his voice, i found my way back. in the morning we noticed a large encampment about a mile off, on the opposite bank of the brahmaputra. the stream was too rapid for us to cross, or we might have gone over to try and obtain provisions from the natives. moreover, on further examination, we saw black tents in every direction on our side of the water, and therefore there was no reason to go to the extra trouble and danger of crossing the stream. much to our delight, we succeeded in purchasing a goat from some passing tibetans, who drove before them a flock of several thousand. we could not find sufficient dry fuel to make a fire, so we intrusted mansing with the animal as far as our next camp, where we proposed to indulge in a feast. the brahmaputra had here several ramifications, mostly ending in lakelets, and rendering the plain a regular swamp. the larger arm of the river was wide and deep, and we preferred following it to crossing it, notwithstanding that we had to deviate somewhat from the course which otherwise i should have followed. for several miles we sank in mud and slush up to our knees, or waded through water. there were small patches of soft earth with tufts of grass which rose above the water, but they collapsed on our attempting to stand upon them. the whole of the northern part of the plain was extremely marshy. our yaks gave us no end of trouble. when they sank unexpectedly in soft mud-holes, they became alarmed, and, in their struggle to save themselves, once or twice shook off their pack-saddles and loads, which we had not been able to fasten properly for want of proper ropes. chanden sing and i managed to keep up with the restless animals. at last, on nearing the hills, the ground showed undulations, and was rather drier. we saw columns of smoke rising from near the foot of the range to the north of us. we went on another two miles, exhausted and dirty, our clothes, on which we had spent so much soap and time in washing, filthy again with splashes of mud. "where are mansing and the goat?" i asked the hindoo. "he remained behind at the beginning of the swamp. he was too exhausted to drag along the goat you purchased." i was much concerned, on scouring from a hillock the country all round with my telescope, to perceive no sign whatever of the poor fellow. i was angry with myself for not noticing his disappearance before. as there were many tibetans about the spot where he had remained, i feared foul play on their part, and that he might have been overpowered. again i imagined that, weak as he was, he might have been sucked down in one of the deeper mud-holes, without a chance of saving himself. i left chanden sing to look after the yaks, and turned back in search of him. as i hurried back mile after mile, struggling again half across the mud swamp, and yet saw no trace of the poor coolie, i was almost giving up my quest in despair, when my eye caught sight of something moving about half a mile farther on. it was the goat, all alone. i made for it with a sinking heart. it was only on getting quite close that i perceived the poor coolie, quite insensible in a faint, lying flat and half sunk in the mud. fortunately he had taken the precaution of tying the rope to which the goat was fastened tight round his arm. to it only was due my discovering mansing's whereabouts, not to speak of the rescue of our precious acquisition. with some rubbing and shaking i brought the poor fellow back to life, and helped him along until we rejoined chanden sing. not until the middle of the night did we reach tarbar, a large tibetan encampment at the foot of the hill range. the alarm of our arrival, given first by scores of dogs barking at us, then by one of the natives who had ventured peeping out of his tent to find out the cause of the disturbance, created the usual panic in the place. "_gigri duk! gigri duk! jogpa, jogpa!_" (danger! danger! help, brigands, brigands!) cried the tibetan, running frantically out of his tent. a few seconds later black figures could be seen everywhere, dashing in and out of their tents. it must be remembered that, according to the manners of tibet, one should time one's arrival at an encampment so as to reach it before sundown, unless notice of one's approach is sent ahead. people who arrive unexpectedly in the middle of the night are never credited with good motives--nothing short of murder, robbery, or extortion. i tried to set the minds of the tibetans at ease by telling them that i meant no harm, but such was their excitement and fright that i could get no one to listen to me. two old women came to us with a bucket of milk and laid it at my feet, entreating me to spare their lives. great was their astonishment when, instead of finding themselves murdered, they received a silver rupee in payment. this was the first step toward a peaceful settlement of the disturbance. after some time calm was restored, and though still regarded with suspicion, we were politely treated by the natives. unfortunately, here too we were unable to purchase provisions, the natives declaring that they had not sufficient food for themselves. at night the thermometer fell to °. we felt the cold intensely. we purchased a quantity of dung from the natives and made a fire in the morning. having feasted on the goat, which we killed, and on yak's milk, we made preparations to strike camp early next morning. having had a good meal after several days' privations, we felt happier than usual. on leaving tarbar we followed for a while the course of the river. it was a glorious day, and we were able to admire the magnificent panorama of the great rugged mountain range to the south-west of us. the higher peaks were nearly all shaped like pyramids. i observed a gigantic quadrangular peak which i took to be mount everest. next to it was another pyramidical peak, also very lofty, but not so high and beautiful as its neighbor. i followed a general course toward east-south-east. as the river, which we had more or less followed, now described a big bend toward the south-south-east, i decided to cross it. we waded through it successfully with water up to our necks, and again we found ourselves upon marshy land, with a repetition of the previous day's experience. farther on we crossed three more tributaries of the larger stream, all fairly wide and deep. then we had once more to get across the main river, there of considerable depth and swiftness. the river traversed the plain in zigzag fashion, and, unless we wanted to follow its banks, and so lengthen the journey by double or treble the distance, this was the only course open to us. thus, while trying to travel as much as possible in a straight line, we found ourselves for the third time before this great river, now swollen by other snow-fed streams, and carrying an immense body of water. it was in the afternoon, too, when the water was at its highest. we attempted a crossing at several points, but found it impossible. i decided to wait for low water early next morning. apparently my yaks knew this part of the country well. i noticed that, whenever i lost the track, all i had to do was to follow them, and they would bring me back to it again. when i drove them away from the track, they showed a great disinclination to move, whereas they proceeded willingly enough while we were on the highway. no track was visible except here and there, where the footmarks of the last nomads, with their sheep, ponies, and yaks, had destroyed the grass. half a mile on the other side of the river was an encampment of some fifty or sixty tents, with hundreds of yaks and sheep grazing near it. at this point my two yaks, which i noticed had been marching with more than usual smartness, bolted while i was ordering chanden sing and mansing to take down the loads, and went straight into the water. in attempting to make them turn back, mansing threw a stone at them, which, instead of having the desired effect, sent them on all the faster. the current was strong, and the bottom of the river so soft that they both sank. when they reappeared on the surface it was only to float rapidly away down-stream. we watched them with ever-increasing anxiety. they seemed quite helpless. we ran panting along the river-bank, urging them on with shouts in order to drive them to the other side. in their desperate struggle to keep afloat, and powerless against the current, the two yaks collided violently in mid-stream. the bump caused the pack-saddle and load of the smaller yak to turn over. the animal, thus overbalanced and hampered, sank and reappeared two or three times, struggling for air and life. it was, indeed, a terrible moment. in order to save the load, i threw off my clothes and jumped into the water. i swam fast to the animal, and, with no small exertion, pulled him on shore, some two hundred yards farther down-stream. we were both safe, though breathless; but, alas! the ropes that held the baggage had given way, and saddle and load had disappeared. this loss was a dreadful blow to me. i tried hard, by repeatedly diving into the river until i was almost frozen, to recover my goods, but failed to find them or even to locate them. where i suspected them to be the water was over twenty feet deep. the bottom of the river was of soft mud, so that the weight alone of the loads would cause them to sink and be covered over. diving at such great elevations gave a peculiar and unpleasant sensation. the moment i was entirely under water, i felt as if i were compressed under an appalling weight which seemed to crush me. had the liquid above and around me been a mass of lead instead of water, it could not have felt heavier. the sensation was especially noticeable in my head, which felt as if my skull were being screwed inside a vise. the beating in my temples was almost unbearable. under ordinary circumstances i can remain under water for over a minute, but at such high elevations i could never hold out for longer than fifteen or twenty seconds. each time that i emerged from below, gasping for air, my heart beat alarmingly violently, and my lungs seemed as if about to burst. i was so exhausted that i did not feel equal to conveying my two men across. i unloaded the stronger yak, and then, with endless trouble, i drove him and his mate again into the water. unhampered, and good swimmers as they are, the two yaks floated away with the current and reached the other side. chanden sing and mansing, with their clothes and mine tied into a bundle over their shoulders, got on the animals, and, after a somewhat anxious passage, arrived safely on my side. we encamped. my men mourned all night over the lost property. the next morning i made fresh and unsuccessful attempts to recover the loads. unhappily they contained all my tinned provisions, and what little other food i had, rupees in silver, the greater part of my ammunition, changes of clothing, shoes, my hurricane lantern, and sundry knives, razors, etc. the only thing we recovered was the wooden pack-saddle, which was washed ashore some six hundred yards farther down. our situation can be summed up in a few words. we were now in the centre of tibet, with no food of any kind, no clothes to speak of, and no boots or shoes, except those we wore, which were falling to pieces. what little ammunition i had left could not be relied upon, owing to its having been in water on several occasions. around us we had nothing but enemies--insignificant enemies, if you like, yet enemies after all. i got some comfort in thinking that the water-tight cases with my scientific instruments, notes, sketches, maps, and a quantity of gold and silver money were saved. as far as i was concerned, i valued them more than anything else i possessed. we went on, hungry, worn out, with our feet lacerated, cheering one another as best we could. we laughed at our troubles. we laughed at the tibetans and their comical ways. we laughed at everything and everybody, until eventually we laughed at ourselves. but the days seemed long. though fasting gives you at first an acute pain in your inside, it does not become unbearable until after several days' absolute want of food. that is to say, if you are accustomed, as we were, to long intervals between one meal and the next. when we got to our third day's fasting we were keen enough for a meal. perceiving black tents close to the mountain-side, about four miles out of our course, we made for them with famished haste. we purchased two bucketfuls of yak's milk, one of which i drank there and then myself, the second being equally divided between my two servants. that was all we could get. they would sell us nothing else. after this we moved forward again, making steady, and, if one allows for the great elevation, comparatively rapid progress. we held our own against all comers. we encountered pleasant people and unpleasant ones, but, whether their manner was courteous or the reverse, we could nowhere obtain food for love or money. poor mansing and chanden sing, not having the same interest that i had in my work to keep up their spirits, were now in a dreadful condition. cold, tired, and starved, the poor wretches had hardly strength left to stand on their feet, the soles of which were badly cut and sore. it really made my heart bleed to see these two brave men suffer as they did for my sake. no word of complaint came from them; not once did their lips utter a reproach. "never mind if we suffer or even die," said the poor fellows, when i expressed my sympathy with them, "we will follow you as long as we have strength to move. we will stand by you, no matter what happens." i had to relieve chanden sing of his rifle, as he was no longer able to carry it. i, too, felt languid as the days went by, and we got scarcely any food. i cannot say that i experienced severe physical pain. this was due, i think, to the fact that my exhaustion brought on fever. i had a peculiar feeling in my head, as if my intellect, never too bright, had now been altogether dulled. my hearing, too, became less acute. i felt my strength slowly dying down like the flame of a lamp with no more oil in it. the nervous excitement and strain alone kept me alive. i went on walking mechanically. we reached an encampment of some eighty black tents and a mud guard-house. we were positively in a starved condition. it was utterly impossible to proceed farther, owing to the wretched condition of my two men. they begged to be given ponies to ride. their feet were so sore that, notwithstanding their anxiety to follow me, they could no more. the natives received us kindly, and consented to sell me ponies, clothes, and provisions. we encamped about two miles beyond the settlement. during the evening several persons visited my tent, bringing gifts of flour, butter, and _tsamba_, accompanied by _katas_, the veils of friendship. i made a point of invariably giving the tibetans, in return for their gifts, silver money to an amount three or four times the value of the articles they presented us with. they professed to be very grateful. a man called ando, who styled himself a gourkha, but wore the garb of the tibetans, came to visit us in our tent, and promised to bring several ponies for sale the next morning. he also undertook to sell a sufficient quantity of food to enable us to reach lhassa. to show his good faith, he brought a portion of the supplies in the evening, and said he would let us have the remainder the next morning. we next had a visit from a lama, who appeared civil and intelligent. he presented us with butter and _chura_ (cheese). he had travelled as far as calcutta in india, and was then on his way from gartok to lhassa. having an excellent pony, he expected to arrive there in four or five days. other lamas and men who came to see us stated that they had come from lhassa in four days. the natives, as usual, showed great reticence in giving us the name of the encampment, some calling it toxem, others taddju. north of us was a low pass in the hill range. as i had already seen as much as i wanted of the tibetans, it was my intention, if i succeeded in purchasing enough provisions and ponies, to cross over this pass and proceed toward the sacred city, following a course on the northern side of the mountain range. the highway to lhassa was getting so thickly populated that i thought it advisable in the future to travel through less inhabited regions. i intended proceeding, dressed as a european, until within a few miles of lhassa. then i would leave my two men concealed in some secluded spot, and assuming a disguise, i would penetrate alone during the night into the city. this would have been easy enough, as lhassa has no gates, and only a ruined wall round it. i was able to purchase some clothing and boots from the tibetans. the pigtail that i needed in order to pass for a tibetan i could make with the silky hair of my yaks. i would pretend to be deaf and dumb, as i could not speak the tibetan language perfectly enough to pass for a native. a good meal brought hope and high spirits. when i retired to sleep i saw myself already inside the sacred city walls. footnotes: [footnote : religious fanatics.] chapter xviii captured in the night i heard noises several times. i went out of my tent to look for the disturbers, but failed to discover any one. this had become my nightly experience, and i attached little importance to these sounds. in the morning ando and two or three tibetans came to sell us provisions and ponies. while my two servants and i were engaged in purchasing what we required, i saw a number of villagers approaching in groups. some spun wool, others carried bags of _tsamba_ and flour, while others led a number of ponies. having purchased provisions to last us a couple of months, we began the selection of mounts. naturally my servants and myself were overjoyed at our unexpected luck, after sufferings and privations of all kinds, in finding ourselves confronted with abundance of everything we could possibly desire. chanden sing and mansing, who were sportsmen of the very first order, delighted at the prospect of getting animals, rode first one pony and then another to suit themselves. chanden sing, having selected a handsome beast, called me to examine it before paying over the purchase-money. unsuspecting of foul play, and also because it would not have been convenient to try the various lively ponies with my rifle slung over my shoulder, i walked unarmed to the spot, about a hundred yards away from my tent, where the restless animal was being held for my inspection. the natives followed behind me, but such a thing being common in any country when one buys a horse in public, i thought nothing of it. as i stood with my hands behind my back, i well recollect the expression of delight on chanden sing's face when i approved of his choice. as is generally the case on such occasions, the people collected in a crowd behind me expressed in a chorus their gratuitous opinion on the superiority of the steed selected. i had just stooped to examine the pony's fore legs when i was suddenly seized from behind by several persons, who grabbed me by the neck, wrists, and legs, and threw me down on my face. i struggled and fought until i shook off some of my assailants and regained my feet; but others rushed up, and i was surrounded by some thirty men, who attacked me from every side. they clung to me with all their might, and succeeded in grabbing again my arms, legs, and head. exhausted as i was, they knocked me down three more times, but each time i regained my feet. i fought to the bitter end with my fists, feet, head, and teeth. each time i got one hand or leg free from their clutches, i hit right and left at any part where i could disable my opponents. their timidity, even when in such overwhelming numbers, was indeed beyond description. it was entirely due to it, and not to my strength, for i had hardly any left, that i was able to hold my own against them for some twenty minutes. my clothes were torn in the fight. long ropes were thrown at me from every side. i became so entangled in them that my movements were impeded. one rope which they flung and successfully twisted round my neck completed their victory. they pulled hard at it from the two ends, and while i panted and gasped with the exertion of fighting, they tugged and tugged in order to strangle me. i felt as if my eyes would shoot out of my head. i was suffocating. my sight became dim. i was in their power. dragged down to the ground, they stamped, and kicked, and trampled upon me with their heavy nailed boots until i was stunned. then they tied my wrists tightly behind my back; they bound my elbows, my chest, my neck, and my ankles. i was a prisoner! [illustration: purchasing ponies] they lifted me and made me stand up. brave chanden sing had been struggling with all his might against fifteen or twenty foes, and had disabled several of them. he had been pounced upon at the same moment that i was, and had fought gallantly until, like myself, he had been entangled, thrown down, and secured with ropes. during my struggle i heard him call out repeatedly: "_banduk, banduk, mansing; jaldi, banduk!_" (rifle, rifle, mansing; quick, my rifle!) but, alas, poor mansing the leper, the weak and jaded coolie, had been sprung upon by four powerful tibetans, who held him pinned to the ground as if he had been the fiercest of bandits. mansing was a philosopher. he had saved himself the trouble of even offering a resistance; but he, too, was ill-treated, beaten, and tightly bound. at the beginning of the fight a shrill whistle had brought up four hundred[ ] armed soldiers who had lain in ambush round us, concealed behind the innumerable sand-hills and in the depressions in the ground. they took up a position round us and covered us with their matchlocks. all was now over, and, bound like a criminal, i looked round to see what had become of my men. when i realized that it took the tibetans five hundred men,[ ] all counted, to arrest a starved englishman and his two half-dying servants, and that, even then, they dared not do it openly, but had to resort to abject treachery; when i found that these soldiers were picked troops from lhassa and sigatz (_shigatze_), dispatched on purpose to arrest our progress and capture us, i could not repress a smile of contempt for those into whose hands we had at last fallen. my blood boiled when, upon the order of the lama, who the previous night had professed to be our friend, several men advanced and searched our pockets. they rifled us of everything we possessed. then they began overhauling our baggage. the watches and chronometer were looked upon with suspicion, their ticking causing curiosity and even anxiety. they were passed round, and mercilessly thrown about from one person to the other until they stopped ticking. they were then pronounced "dead." the compasses and aneroids, which they could not distinguish from watches, were soon thrown aside, as "they had no life in them." great caution was displayed in touching our rifles, which were lying on our bedding when the tent had been torn down. [illustration: i was a prisoner] fears were entertained lest the rifles should go off unexpectedly. it was only on my assurance (which made our captors ten times more cautious) that they were not loaded, that at last they took them and registered them in the catalogue of our confiscated property. i had upon me a gold ring that my mother had given me when i was a child. i asked permission to retain it. with their superstitious nature they immediately thought that it had occult powers, like the wands one reads of in fairy tales. a man called nerba, who later on played an important part in our sufferings, was intrusted with the ring, and was warned never to let me see it again. it was heartbreaking, as we three prisoners sat bound and held down by guards, to see the lamas and officers handle all our things so roughly that they spoiled nearly all they touched. particularly disgusting was their avidity when, in searching the pockets of the coat i wore daily, and which i had not put on that morning, they found a quantity of silver coins, some eight hundred rupees in all. officers, lamas, and soldiers made a grab for the money, and when order was re-established only a few coins remained where the sum had been laid down. other moneys which they found in one of my loads met with a similar fate. among the things arousing the greatest curiosity was an india-rubber pillow fully blown out. the soft, smooth texture of the india-rubber seemed to take their fancy. one after the other they rubbed their cheeks on the cushion, exclaiming at the pleasant sensation it gave them. in playing with the brass screw by which the cushion was inflated, they gave it a turn, and the imprisoned air found its way out with a hissing noise. this created quite a panic among the tibetans. their superstitious minds regarded this hissing as an evil omen. naturally i took advantage of any small incident of this kind to work judiciously on their superstitions and to frighten the natives as much as i could. the tibetans, having examined all except my water-tight cases of instruments, photographic plates, and sketches, seemed so upset at one or two things that happened, and at some remarks i made, that they hurriedly sealed up my property, which they had placed in bags and wrapped in blankets. they ordered the things to be placed on yaks and brought into the guard-house of the settlement. this done, they tied the end of the ropes that bound our necks to the pommels of their saddles, and, having loosed our feet, they sprang on their ponies and rode off, with shouts, hisses, and cries of victory, firing their matchlocks in the air, and dragging us prisoners into the settlement. on reaching the settlement, my last words to my men before we were separated were: "no matter what they do to you, do not let them see that you suffer." they promised to obey me. we were conveyed to different tents. i was dragged to one of the larger tents, inside and outside of which soldiers were placed on guard. they were at first sulky, and rough in their manner and speech. i always made a point of answering them in a collected and polite fashion. i had on many previous occasions noticed that nothing carries one further in dealings with asiatics than to keep calm and cool. i felt confident that if we were ever to get out of our present scrape, it would be by maintaining a perfectly impassive demeanor in face of anything that might happen. [illustration: dragged into the settlement] the tent being kept closed, i was unable to see what was taking place outside, but i could hear the noise of people rushing here and there. orders were shouted, and the continuous tinkling of the soldiers' horse-bells as they galloped past the tent made me conclude that the place must be in a state of turmoil. i had been some three hours in the tent when a soldier entered and ordered me out. "they are going to cut off his head," said he to his comrades. turning round to me, he made a significant gesture with his hand across his neck. "_nikutza_" (all right), said i, dryly. it must not be forgotten that, when a tibetan hears words to that effect, he usually goes down on his knees and begs for mercy with tears, and sobs, and prayers in profusion. so it is not surprising that the tibetans were somewhat astonished at my answer. they seemed puzzled as to what to make of it. i was led out with more reluctance than firmness. during the time i had been shut up a huge white tent with blue ornaments had been pitched in front of the mud house. round it were hundreds of soldiers and villagers--a most picturesque sight. as i was led nearer i perceived that the front of the tent was wide open. inside stood a great number of red lamas, with shaven heads, and long woollen tunics. the soldiers stopped me when i was about twenty yards from the tent. additional ropes were added to those already cutting into my wrists, elbows, and chest, and the others were made tighter. i perceived chanden sing led forward. instead of taking me before the lamas, they pushed me to the back of the mud house to prevent my seeing the scene that followed. i heard chanden sing being interrogated in a loud, angry tone of voice, and accused of having been my guide. next i heard wild shouts from the crowd, then a dead silence. a few instants later i was horrified. i listened--yes, it was the snapping noise of a lash, followed by hoarse moans from my poor servant, to whom they were evidently applying it. i counted the strokes, the sickening noise of which is still well impressed on my memory, as they regularly and steadily fell one after the other, to twenty, to thirty, forty, and fifty. then there was a pause. a number of soldiers now came for me. i was first led, then pushed violently before the tribunal. on a high seat in the centre of the tent sat a man wearing ample trousers of gaudy yellow and a short yellow coat with flowing sleeves. on his head he had a huge four-pointed hat, gilt all over, and with three great eyes painted on it. he was young-looking. his head was clean shaven, as he was a lama of the highest order, a grand lama and a _pombo_, or governor of the province, with powers equivalent to those of a feudal king. on his right stood a stout, powerful red lama who held a huge double-handed sword. behind him, and at the sides, were a number of other lamas, officers and soldiers. as i stood silent, and held my head high before him, two or three lamas rushed at me and ordered me to kneel. they tried to compel me to do so by forcing me on my knees, but i succeeded in remaining standing. the pombo, who was furious at my declining to kneel before him, addressed me in words that sounded violent; but, as he spoke classical tibetan, and i only the colloquial language, i could not understand a word he said. i meekly asked him not to use such fine words, as they were unintelligible to me. the great man was taken aback at this request. with a frown on his face, he pointed to me to look to my left. the soldiers and lamas drew aside, and i beheld chanden sing lying flat on his face, stripped from the waist down, in front of a row of lamas and military men. two powerful lamas, one on each side of him, began again to chastise him with knotted leather thongs weighted with lead, laying on their strokes with vigorous arms from his waist to his feet. he was bleeding all over. each time that a lash fell on his wounded skin, so great was my sorrow that it gave me a pain more intense than if a dagger were stuck into my chest, but i never betrayed my feelings. i knew orientals too well to show any pity for the man, as this would only have involved a more severe punishment for him. so i looked on at his torture as one would upon a thing of every-day occurrence. the lamas near me shook their fists under my nose, and explained that my turn would come next. i smiled and repeated the usual "_nikutza, nikutza_" (very good, very good). the pombo and his officers were puzzled. i could see it plainly by their faces. the pombo, an effeminate, juvenile, handsome person, almost hysterical in manner, seemed a splendid subject for hypnotic experiments. i had a good reason to think this. as we shall see later, he had already often been under mesmeric influence. he remained with his eyes fixed upon mine, as if in a trance, for certainly over two minutes. there was a wonderful and sudden change in the man. his voice, arrogant and angry a few moments before, was now soft and apparently kindly. the lamas around him were evidently concerned at seeing their lord and master transformed from a foaming fury into the quietest of lambs. they seized me and brought me out of his sight to the spot where chanden sing was being chastised. here again i could not be compelled to kneel, so at last i was allowed to squat down before the pombo's officers. two lamas produced my note-books and maps, and proceeded to question me closely, saying that, if i spoke the truth, i should be spared; otherwise i should be flogged and then beheaded. i answered that i would speak the truth, whether they punished me or not. dressed in a gaudy red silk coat, with gold embroidery at the collar, one of the lamas, a great big brute who had taken part in the flogging of chanden sing, told me i must say "that my servant had shown me the road across tibet, and that he had drawn the maps and sketches." if i stated this, they were willing to release me and have me conveyed back to the frontier, promising to do me no further harm. they would cut my servant's head off, that was all, but no personal injury would be inflicted on me. i explained clearly to the lamas that i alone was responsible for the maps and sketches, and for finding my way so far into the forbidden land. i repeated several times, slowly and distinctly, that my servant was innocent, and that therefore there was no reason to punish him. he had only obeyed my orders in following me to tibet, and i alone, not my two servants, was to be punished if anybody was punishable. the lamas were angry at this. one of them struck me violently on the head with the butt-end of his riding-crop. i pretended not to notice it, though it made my scalp ache to quite an appreciable extent. "then we shall beat you and your man until you say what we want!" the lama exclaimed, angrily. "you can beat us if you like," i replied, with assurance, "but if you punish us unjustly it will go against yourselves. you can tear our skin off, you can make us bleed to death, but you cannot make us feel pain." ando, the traitor, who spoke hindustani fluently, acted as interpreter whenever there was a hitch in our conversation. with what i knew of the tibetan language, and with this man's help, everything was explained as clearly as possible to the tibetans. notwithstanding this, they continued to lash mercilessly my poor servant. in his agony he was biting the ground as each blow fell on him tearing away patches of skin and flesh. chanden sing behaved heroically. not a word of complaint nor a prayer for mercy came from his lips. he said that he had spoken the truth, and had nothing more to say. watched intently by all the lamas and soldiers, i sat with affected calm before this scene of cruelty, until, angry at my indifference, order was given to the soldiers that i should be dragged away. again they led me behind the mud house, from where i could distinctly hear the angry cries of the lamas cross-examining chanden sing and those dreadful sounds of the lash still being administered on my poor servant. it began to rain heavily. this was lucky for us, for in tibet, as in china, a shower has a great effect upon the people. even massacres have been known to be postponed until the rain stopped. such was the case that day. the moment the first drops fell, the soldiers and lamas rushed here, there, and everywhere inside the tents. i was hastily dragged to the most distant tent of the settlement, which became packed with the soldiers in whose charge i had been given. [illustration: chanden sing being flogged] footnotes: [footnote : the lamas stated afterward that this was the number.] [footnote : counting lamas, villagers, and soldiers.] chapter xix threats of death an officer of high rank was sitting cross-legged at the farther end of the tent. he wore a handsome dark-red tunic trimmed with gold and leopard skin, and was shod in tall black-and-red leather boots of chinese shape. a beautiful sword with a solid silver sheath inlaid with large pieces of coral and malachite was passed through his belt. this man, apparently between fifty and sixty years of age, had an intelligent, refined, honest, good-natured face. i felt that he would be a friend. indeed, whereas the soldiers and lamas treated me with brutality and were indescribably mean, this officer alone showed some civility to me. he made room by his side, and asked me to sit there. "i am a soldier," said he, in a dignified tone, "not a lama. i have come from lhassa with my men to arrest you. you are now our prisoner. you have shown no fear, and i respect you." so saying, he inclined his head and laid his forehead touching mine, and put out his tongue. then he made a gesture which meant that, though he wished to say more, he could not, owing to the presence of the soldiers. later on we entered into a friendly conversation, in the course of which he said he was a rupun (a rank below a general). i tried to explain to him all about english soldiers and weapons. he displayed the keenest interest in all i told him. in return he gave me interesting information about the soldiers of tibet. every man in tibet is considered a soldier in time of war or when required to do duty. for the regular army all lads strong and healthy can enlist from the age of seventeen. good horsemanship is one of the qualities most appreciated in the tibetan soldier, and, after that, unbounded obedience. the rupun swore by tibetan matchlocks, which he believed to be the most serviceable weapons on earth. according to him, as long as you had powder enough, you could use anything as a projectile. pebbles, earth, or nails did as good work as any lead bullet. he told me that large quantities of these weapons were manufactured at lhassa and sigatz (_shigatze_). the majority of tibetan men outside the towns possessed matchlocks. gunpowder was made in the country with saltpetre and sulphur. the rupun, seeing how quick i was at picking up tibetan words, took a special delight in teaching me, as one would a child, the names of the several grades in the tibetan army. the _tchu-pun_ was the lowest grade, and only had ten men under him; then came the _kiatsamba-pun_ or _kia-pun_, or officer in command of one hundred soldiers; and the _tung-pun_, or head of one thousand. these officers, however, were seldom allowed the full number of soldiers. often the "commander of one thousand" had only under him three or four hundred men at the most. above the _tung-pun_ came the _rupun_, a kind of adjutant-general; then the _dah-pun_, or great officer; and highest of all, the _mag-pun_ (or _magbun_, as it is usually pronounced), the general-in-chief. the acquaintance of one of these generals i had already made at gyanema. though my informant said that officers were elected for their bravery in war and for their strength and aptitude in the saddle and with their weapons, i knew well enough that such was not the case. the posts were mainly given to whoever could afford to pay for them, among men of families under special protection of the lamas. in many cases they were actually sold by auction. the rupun had a keen sense of humor. i told him how fast the tibetan soldiers had run away on previous occasions when i had met them and had my rifle with me. he was quite equal to the situation, and exclaimed: "yes, i know that they ran, but it was not through fear. it was because they did not wish to hurt you." upon which i answered that, if that were the case, they need not have run so fast. the rupun was amused, and laughed at my sarcasm. he patted me on the back, and said i was right. he professed to be grieved to see me tied up. he had received strict orders not to give me food or unloose my bonds. the soldiers, who had been harsh and rough, listened open-mouthed to the friendly talk between the rupun and myself, a practice not common in tibet between captor and prisoner. following their chief's example they, too, became quite kind and respectful. they placed a cushion under me and tried to make me a little more comfortable. toward the evening the rupun was summoned before the pombo. the guard was relieved by a fresh lot of men. this was a change for the worse. the new-comers were extremely rough. they dragged me away from the dignified seat i had occupied in the place of honor in the tent, and knocked me violently down on a heap of dung which was there to be used as fuel. "that is the place for _plenkis!_" shouted one of the men, "not in the best part of the tent." they pounced upon me, and though i made no resistance whatever, they again tied my feet together. an additional rope was fastened round my knees. the ends of these ropes were left long, and each was given in charge of a soldier. no part of a tibetan tent was ever clean. the spot where i was to rest for the night was the dirtiest. bound so tightly that the ropes cut grooves in my flesh, it was out of the question to sleep. worse than this was the disgusting fact that i soon got covered with vermin, which swarmed in the tent. from this time till the end of my captivity, or twenty-five days later, i suffered unspeakable tortures from this pest. the soldiers, with their swords drawn, were all round me inside the tent. more soldiers were posted outside. the night was full of strange events. shouts could be heard at intervals from a distance outside, and were answered by some one of the guard inside the tent. they were to keep the men awake and make sure that i was still there. in the middle of the night the rupun returned. i noticed that he seemed much upset. he sat by my side. by the light of the flickering fire and a wick burning in a brass bowl filled with butter, i could see on his face an expression of great anxiety. i felt, by the kind way in which he looked at me, that he had grave news to give me. i was not mistaken. he moved me from the dirty place where i had been thrown down helpless by the soldiers, and laid me in a more comfortable and cleaner part of the tent. then he ordered a soldier to bring me a blanket. next, to my astonishment, he became very severe, and said he must examine my bonds. he turned quite angry, scolding the soldiers for leaving me so insecurely tied, and proceeded to make the knots firmer, a thing which i felt was impossible. though he pretended to use all his strength in doing this, i found, much to my amazement, that my bonds were really becoming loosened. he then quickly covered me up with the heavy blanket. the soldiers were at the other end of the large tent arguing loudly over some paltry matter. the rupun, stooping low, and making pretence to tuck in the blanket, whispered: "your head is to be cut off to-morrow. escape to-night. there are no soldiers outside." the good man was actually preparing everything for my flight. he put out the light, and came to sleep by my side. it would have been comparatively easy, when all the men had fallen asleep, to slip from under the tent and steal away. i had got my hands easily out of the ropes, and should have had no difficulty in undoing all my other bonds; but the thought that i should be leaving my two men at the mercy of the tibetans prevented my carrying the escape into effect. the rupun, having risen to see that the guard were asleep, lay down again close to me and murmured: "_nelon, nelon; paladò_" (they are asleep; go). well meant and tempting as the offer was, i told him i must stay with my men. having my hands free, i managed to sleep a little during the night. when morning came i slipped my hands again inside the ropes, as i feared they might accuse the rupun of unloosing my hands, and he might be punished on my account. the rupun, who seemed much disappointed, tied the ropes round my wrists firmly again. though he appeared vexed at my not availing myself of the chance of flight he had given me, he treated me with ever-increasing respect and deference. he even produced his wooden bowl, which he filled with steaming tea from the _raksang_, and lifted it up to my mouth for me to drink. on perceiving how thirsty and hungry i was, not only did this good man refill the cup time after time until my thirst was quenched, but he mixed with it _tsamba_ and lumps of butter, which he then stuffed into my mouth with his fingers. it was really touching to see how, moved to kindness, the soldiers imitated his example, and, one after the other, produced handfuls of _tsamba_ and _chura_, and deposited them in my mouth. their hands were not over-clean, but on such occasions it does not do to be too particular. i was so hungry that the food they gave me seemed delicious. i had been for two nights and one day without food, and, what with the exertion of the fight and my various exciting experiences during that time, my appetite was very keen. the great politeness and consideration with which not only the rupun, but even the soldiers, now treated me made me suspect that my end was near. i was grieved not to be able to obtain news of chanden sing and mansing. the soldiers' reticence in answering questions regarding them made me fear that something terrible had happened. nevertheless, though my jailers were friendly, i did not betray anxiety, but pretended to take all that came as a matter of course. i spent the first portion of the day in a lively conversation with the soldiers, partly to divert my thoughts and partly to improve my knowledge of tibetan. chapter xx a terrible ride early in the afternoon a soldier entered the tent, and striking me on the shoulder with his heavy hand, shouted: "_ohe!_" (this is a tibetan exclamation always used by the rougher classes when beginning a conversation. it corresponds to "look here.") "_ohe!_" repeated he; "before the sun goes down you will be flogged, both your legs will be broken,[ ] they will burn out your eyes, and then they will cut off your head!" the man, who seemed quite in earnest, accompanied each sentence with an appropriate gesture to illustrate his words. i laughed at him and affected to treat the whole thing as a joke, partly because i thought this was the best way to frighten them, and partly because the programme thus laid before me seemed so extensive that i thought it could only be intended to intimidate me. the words of the soldier cast a gloom over my friendly guard in the tent. when i tried to cheer them up, they answered bluntly that i would not laugh for very long. something was certainly happening. the men rushed in and out of the tent and whispered among themselves. when i spoke to them they would answer no more, and on my insisting to receive an answer they made signs that their lips must from now be closed. about half an hour later another person, in a great state of excitement, rushed into the tent and signalled to my guards to lead me out. this they did, after making my bonds tighter than ever, and placing extra ropes round my chest and arms. in this fashion i was marched off to the mud house and led into one of the rooms. a large number of soldiers and villagers assembled outside. after we had waited some time, mansing, tightly bound, was brought into the same room. my pleasure at seeing my man again was so great that i paid no attention to the insults of the mob peeping through the door. after a while a lama came in with a smiling face, and said he had good news to give me. "we have ponies here," he said, "and we are going to take you back to the frontier, but the pombo wishes to see you first to-day. do not make a resistance. let us exchange the ropes round your wrists for these iron handcuffs." here he produced a heavy pair of manacles which he had kept concealed under his coat. "you will not wear them for more than a few moments, while we are leading you to his presence. then you will be free. we swear to you by the sun and kunjuk-sum that we will treat you kindly." i promised not to resist, chiefly because i had no chance of doing so. for greater safety they tied my legs and placed a sliding knot round my neck; then i was carried out into the open, where a ring of soldiers with drawn swords stood round me. they made me lay flat on my face on the ground, and held me down firmly while they unwound the ropes from around my wrists. the iron fetters, joined by a heavy chain, were substituted for them. they took some time in fastening the clumsy padlock, after which, all being ready, they unbound my legs. when i stood up again, and knowing that i could not possibly get my hands free, they began to load me with insults, not directed to me as an individual, but as a _plenki_ (an englishman). they spat upon me and threw mud at me. the lamas behaved worse than any of the others. the one who had sworn that i should in no way be ill-used if i submitted quietly to be handcuffed was the most prominent among my tormentors and the keenest in urging the crowd on to further brutality. suddenly the attention of the crowd was drawn to the approach of the rupun with a number of soldiers and officers. he seemed depressed. his face was of a ghastly yellowish tint. he kept his eyes fixed on the ground. speaking in a low tone of voice, he ordered that i should again be conveyed inside the mud house. a few moments later he came in and closed the door after him, having first cleared the room of all the people who were in it. tibetan structures of this kind have a square aperture in the ceiling by which they are ventilated and lighted. the rupun laid his forehead upon mine in sign of compassion, and then sadly shook his head. "there is no more hope," he whispered; "your head will be cut off to-night. the lamas are bad. my heart is aching. you are like my brother, and i am grieved...." the good old man tried not to let me see his emotion, and made signs that he could stay no longer, lest he should be accused of being my friend. the mob again entered the room. i was once more dragged out into the open by the lamas and soldiers. some discussion followed as to who should keep the key of my handcuffs, and eventually it was handed over to one of the officers, who mounted his pony and rode away at a great speed in the direction of lhassa. just then i heard the voice of chanden sing calling to me in a weak, agonized tone: "_hazur, hazur, hum murgiaega!_" (sir, sir, i am dying!) turning my head in the direction from which these painful sounds came, i perceived my faithful servant with his hands bound behind his back, dragging himself on his stomach toward the door of one of the other rooms of the mud house. his poor face was hardly recognizable, it bore the traces of such awful suffering. i could stand no more. pushing my guards aside with my shoulders, i endeavored to get to the poor wretch, and had nearly reached him when soldiers sprang upon me, grappled me, and lifting me bodily off my feet, threw me on the back of a pony. i now feared the worst. i tried to encourage my brave servant by shouting to him that i was being taken to taklakot, and that he would be brought after me the following day. he had exhausted his last atom of strength in creeping to the door. he was roughly seized, and brutally hurled back into the room of the mud house, so that we could not exchange a word more. mansing, the coolie, was placed, with his arms pinioned, on a bare-back pony. the saddle of the pony i had been thrown upon is worthy of description. it was in reality the wooden frame of a very high-backed saddle, like a mexican saddle. from the highest point of the back five or six sharp iron spikes stuck out horizontally. as i sat on this implement of torture, i was not actually sitting on the spikes, but the spikes caught me in the back just below the waist. my guard having been augmented by twenty or thirty mounted men with muskets and swords, we set off at a furious pace. a horseman riding in front of me led my pony by means of a cord, as my hands were manacled behind my back. thus we travelled across country for many miles. except for those awful spikes in the saddle, the ride would not have been so bad. the pony i rode was a spirited animal, and the country around was curious and interesting. we proceeded along a succession of yellow sand-hills, some of them as high as two or three hundred feet, others not more than twenty or thirty feet. the sand seemed to have been deposited more by wind than water, though it is also possible that the whole basin, not very high above the level of the huge stream, may at some time have been altogether under water. the whole space between the mountain range to the north of the brahmaputra and the river itself was covered with these sand-mounds, except in certain places where the soil was extremely marshy. here our ponies sank in deep, soft mud. we splashed across several rivulets and skirted a number of ponds. from the summit of a hill on which they led me, i could see that the hills were of much greater circumference and height near the river, becoming smaller and smaller as they approached the mountain range to the north. they increased in number and size the farther we went in an easterly direction. the circumstances under which i was now travelling did not permit me to make accurate investigations as to where the sand came from. a mere glance at the country all round made me feel sure that the sand had been conveyed from the south. this could be plainly seen from depressions and wave-like undulations, showing that it had travelled (roughly) in a northerly direction. i was fairly convinced that the sand had been deposited there by the wind, which had carried it from the plains of india over the himahlyan chain. my guard scoured the country from the high point of vantage on which we had ascended. away in the distance, to the east, we saw a large number of horsemen raising clouds of dust. riding down the hill, our ponies sinking in soft sand, we set off in the direction of the new-comers, the ground at the bottom of the hill being somewhat harder. we travelled mile after mile at an unpleasant pace, until we arrived at a spot where, drawn up in a line, was the cavalcade we had seen from the summit of the hill. it was a beautiful sight as we approached it, though the pain which i was undergoing rather detracted from the pleasure i should otherwise have taken in the picturesque scene. there were about a hundred red lamas in the centre, with bannermen whose heads were covered by peculiar flat fluffy hats, and an equal number of soldiers and officers in their gray, red, and black tunics--some two hundred horsemen in all. the pombo, in his yellow coat and trousers and his queer pointed hat, sat on a magnificent pony in front of the crowd of lamas and soldiers. curiously enough, when close to this new crowd, the horseman who led my pony let go the rope, and the pony was lashed cruelly and left to run wildly. the soldiers of my guard reined up and drew aside. the pony dashed off in the direction of the pombo, and, as i passed close to him, a man whose name i learned afterward was nerba (a private secretary of the tokchim tarjum) knelt down, and, taking aim with his matchlock resting on its prop, deliberately fired a shot at me. although nerba was considered one of the champion shots of the country, and the distance from the muzzle of his matchlock to me was not more than four yards, the bullet missed me, whizzing past my left ear. probably the speed at which my animal was proceeding saved me, as the marksman could not take a steady aim. my pony, startled at the sudden report of the matchlock at such close quarters, took fright, and began rearing and plunging. i managed to maintain my seat, though the spikes in the saddle were lacerating terribly the lower part of my spine. several horsemen now rode up and captured my pony. preparations were made for another exciting number in the programme of my tortures. in a way these lamas possessed a sporting nature, but i swore to myself that, no matter what they did to me, i would not give them the satisfaction of seeing that they were hurting me. acting on this principle, i pretended not to feel the effect of the spikes tearing the flesh off my backbone. when they led me before the pombo to show him how covered with blood i was, i expressed satisfaction at riding such an excellent pony. this seemed to puzzle him. a cord of yak-hair, about forty or fifty yards long, was now produced. the swivel attached to one end was fastened to my handcuffs, and the other end was held by a horseman. we set off again on our wild career, this time followed not only by the guard, but by the pombo and all his men. once or twice i could not help turning round to look at them. the cavalcade was a weird and picturesque sight, the riders with their many-colored dresses, their matchlocks with red flags, their jewelled swords, their banners with long ribbons of all colors flying in the wind--all galloping furiously, shouting, yelling, and hissing, amid a deafening din of thousands of horse-bells. in order to quicken our speed, a horseman rode by my side lashing my pony to make it go its hardest. meanwhile the horseman who held the cord did his utmost to pull me off the saddle, no doubt in the hope of seeing me trampled to death by the cavalcade behind me. as i leaned my body forward so as to maintain my seat, and with my arms pulled violently backward by the rope, the flesh on my hands and knuckles was rubbed off down to the bone by the chain of the handcuffs. every tug brought me into forcible contact with the spikes and inflicted deep wounds. the cord eventually and unexpectedly gave way. the soldier who was pulling at the other end was clumsily unhorsed, and i myself was all but thrown by the unexpected jerk. this amusing incident at first provoked mirth among my escort, a mirth which their superstitious minds immediately turned into an ill omen. when my pony was stopped, as well as the runaway steed of the dismounted cavalier, i took advantage of their fears, and assured them once more that whatever harm they tried to do me would go against themselves. however, the cord was retied with sundry strong knots, and, after an interruption of a few minutes, we resumed our breakneck gallop, i being again sent in front. toward the end of our journey we had to go round the curve of a sand-hill, the track between this and a large pond at its foot being very narrow. at this point i saw in front of me a soldier posted in ambush, with his matchlock ready to fire. the pony sank deep in the sand, and could not travel fast, which, i suppose, was the reason why that spot had been selected. the man fired as i passed only a few paces from him; but, as luck would have it, this second attempt also left me untouched. getting clear of the soft sand, and finding harder ground, we resumed our headlong career. several arrows were shot at me from behind. some passed very near, but not one struck me. thus, after an interminable ride full of incident and excitement, near sunset we arrived at our destination. [illustration: the ride on a spiked saddle] on the crown of a hill stood a fortress and large lamasery. at its foot, in front of a large structure, the pombo's gaudy tent had been pitched. the name of this place, as far as i could afterward ascertain, was namj laccé galshio or gyatsho. footnotes: [footnote : a form of torture which consists in placing the legs upon two parallel logs of wood. they are then fractured by a heavy blow struck with a mallet.] chapter xxi the executioner two or three men tore me roughly off the saddle. the pain in my spine caused by the spikes was intense. i asked for a moment's rest. my captors refused to let me stop, and, roughly thrusting me forward, said i would be beheaded in an instant. all the people round jeered and made signs to me that my head would be cut off. insults of all kinds were showered upon me by the crowd of lamas and soldiers. i was hustled to the execution-ground, which lay to the left front of the tent. on the ground was a long log of wood in the shape of a prism. upon the sharp edge of this i was made to stand. several men held me by the body while four or five others, using their combined strength, stretched my legs wide apart. fixed in this painful position, the tibetans securely tied my feet to the log of wood with cords of yak-hair. several men were made to pull these cords, and they were so tight that they cut into my skin and flesh in several places round my ankles and on my feet. many of the cuts were as much as three inches long.[ ] when i was thus firmly bound, the man nerba, whom i have mentioned before as having fired a shot at me, came forward, and then, going behind me, seized me by the hair of my head. my hair was long, as it had not been cut for more than five months. the sight before me was impressive. by the pombo's tent stood in a row the most villanous brutes i have ever set eyes upon. one, a powerful, repulsive individual, held in his hand a great knobbed mallet used for fracturing bones; another carried a bow and arrows; a third held a big two-handed sword; others made a display of various ghastly instruments of torture. the crowd, thirsting for my blood, formed up in a semicircle, leaving room for me to see the parade of the torture implements that awaited me. as my eyes roamed from one figure to the other, the several lamas shook their various implements to show that they were preparing for action. a group of three lamas stood at the entrance of the tent. they were the musicians. one held a gigantic horn, which, when blown, emitted hoarse, thundering sounds. his companions had one a drum, the other cymbals. another fellow some distance away continually sounded a huge gong. from the moment i was made to dismount the deafening sounds of the diabolical music echoed all through the valley, and added horror to the scene. an iron bar with a handle of wood bound in red cloth was being made red-hot in a brazier. the pombo, who had placed something in his mouth in order to produce artificial foaming at the lips, and thus show his fury, worked himself into a frenzy. a lama handed him the implement of torture (the _taram_), now red-hot. the pombo seized it by the handle. "_ngaghi kiu meh taxon!_" (we will burn out your eyes!) cried a chorus of lamas. the pombo strode up to me, brandishing the ghastly implement. he seemed reluctant, but the lamas around him urged him on, lifting the man's arm toward me. "you have come to this country to see" (alluding to what i had stated the previous day--_viz._, that i was a traveller and pilgrim, and had only come to see the country). "this, then, is the punishment for you!" and with these dreadful words the pombo raised his arm and placed the red-hot iron bar parallel to, and about an inch or two from, my eyeballs, and all but touching my nose. instinctively i kept my eyes closed, but the heat was so intense that it seemed as if my eyes, the left one especially, were being desiccated and my nose scorched. though the time seemed interminable, i do not think that the heated bar was before my eyes actually longer than thirty seconds or so. yet it was quite long enough, for, when i lifted my aching eyelids, i saw everything as in a red mist. my left eye was frightfully painful, and every few seconds it seemed as if something in front of it obscured its vision. with the right eye i could still see fairly well, except that everything, as i have said, looked red instead of its usual color. the hot iron was then thrown down, and was frizzling on the wet ground a few paces from me. my position was not enviable, as i stood with my legs wide apart, with my back, hands, and legs bleeding, and my sight injured. this amid the deafening, maddening noise of the gong, drum, cymbals, and horn; insulted, spat upon by the crowd, and with nerba holding me so tight by my hair that he tore handfuls of it from my scalp. all i could do was to remain calm and composed, and to await with apparent unconcern the preparations for the next sufferings to be inflicted upon me. "_miumta nani sehko!_" (kill him with a rifle!) shouted a hoarse voice. a matchlock was now being loaded by a soldier, and such was the quantity of gunpowder they placed in the barrel that it made sure whoever fired it would have his head blown off. it was with a certain amount of satisfaction that i saw it handed over to the pombo. that official placed the side of the weapon against my forehead with the muzzle pointing skyward. then a soldier, leaning down, applied fire to the fusee. eventually there was a loud report, which gave my head a severe shock. the overloaded matchlock flew clean out of the pombo's hand, much to everybody's surprise. i forced myself to laugh. the tantalizing failure of every attempt they made to hurt me drove the crowd to the highest pitch of fury. "_ta kossaton, ta kossaton!_" (kill him, kill him!) exclaimed fierce voices all around me. "_ngala mangbo shidak majidan!_" (we cannot frighten him!) "_ta kossaton, ta kossaton!_" (kill him, kill him!) the whole valley resounded with these ferocious cries. a huge two-handed sword was now handed to the pombo, who drew it out of its sheath. "kill him, kill him!" shouted the mob once more, urging on the executioner, who seemed quite reluctant to come forward. i seized this moment to say that they might kill me if they wished, but that, if i died to-day, they would all die to-morrow--an undeniable fact, for we are all bound to die some day. this seemed to cool them for a moment; but the excitement in the crowd was too great, and at last they succeeded in working the pombo into a passion. his face became quite unrecognizable, such was his excitement. he behaved like a madman. at this point a lama approached and slipped something into the mouth of the executioner, who foamed at the lips. a lama held his sword, while he turned up one sleeve of his coat to have his arm free, and the lamas turned up the other for him. then he strode toward me with slow, ponderous steps, swinging the shiny, sharp blade from side to side, with his bare arms outstretched. the man nerba, who was still holding me by the hair, was told to make me bend my neck. i resisted with what little strength i had left, determined to keep my head erect and my forehead high. they might kill me, true enough, they might hack me to pieces if they chose, but never until i had lost my last atom of strength would these ruffians make me stoop before them. i might perish, but it would be looking down upon the pombo and his countrymen. the executioner, now close to me, held the sword with his nervous hands, lifting it high above his shoulder. he then brought it down to my neck, which he touched with the blade, to measure the distance as it were, for a clean, effective stroke. then, drawing back a step, he quickly raised the sword again and struck a blow at me with all his might. the sword passed unpleasantly close to my neck under my chin, but did not touch me. i did not flinch nor speak. my indifference impressed him almost to the point of frightening him. he seemed disinclined to continue his diabolical performance; but the impatience and turbulence of the crowd were at their highest. the lamas nearer him gesticulated like madmen and urged him on again. apparently against his will, the executioner went through the same performance on the other side of my head. this time the blade passed so near that the point cannot have been more than half an inch or so from my neck. everything pointed toward my end being near; but, strange to say, i had a feeling all the time that something would happen and my life would be spared. as the chances of escape, however, seemed very meagre, i felt sorry that i should have to die without seeing my dear parents and relatives again. they would probably never know where and how i had died. after my trying experiences, sufferings, and excitement since entering tibet, i did not, perhaps, realize my peril so much as i should have done had i, for instance, been dragged from my comfortable london quarters direct on to the execution-ground. naturally the scene was one that i am not likely to forget, and i must say for the tibetans that the whole affair was picturesquely carried out. even the ghastliest ceremonies may have their artistic side, and this particular one, performed with extra pomp and flourish, was really impressive. it appears that the unpleasant sword exercise is sometimes gone through in tibet previous to actually cutting off the head, so as to make the victim suffer mentally as much as possible before the final blow is given. it is also done in order to display the wonderful skill of the executioner in handling the big sword. i was not aware of this at the time, and only learned it some weeks after. it is usually at the third stroke that the victim is actually beheaded. the lamas were still clamoring for my head, but the pombo made a firm stand this time, and declined to go on with the execution. they collected round him and seemed very angry. they shouted and yelled and gesticulated in the wildest fashion, and still the pombo kept his eyes fixed upon me in a half-respectful, half-frightened manner, and refused to move. an excited consultation followed, during which, in the midst of this scene of barbarity, my coolie mansing arrived. he had fallen off his bare-back pony many times, and had been left far behind. the man who held my hair now relinquished his grasp, while another pushed me violently from in front, causing me to fall heavily backward, and putting a painful strain on all the tendons of my legs. mansing, bruised and aching all over, was brought forward and tied by his legs to the same log of wood to which i was fastened. they informed me that they would kill my coolie first. one brutal lama seized him roughly by the throat. i was pushed up in a sitting posture. a cloth was thrown over my head and face, so that i could not see what they were doing. i heard poor mansing groan pitifully, then there was a dead silence. i called him, but received no answer, so i concluded that he had been killed. i was left in this terrible suspense for over a quarter of an hour, when at last they removed the cloth from over my head, and i saw my coolie lying before me, bound to the log and almost unconscious, but, thank god, still alive. he told me that, when i had called him, a lama had placed his hand upon his mouth to prevent him from answering, while, with the other hand, the lama had squeezed his neck so tightly as to nearly strangle him. mansing's coolness and bravery during these terrible trials were really marvellous. we were told that our execution was only postponed till the next day, in order that we might be tortured until the time came for us to be put to death. a number of lamas and soldiers stood round jeering at us. i seized this opportunity to hail a swaggering lama and ask him for some refreshment. "_orcheh, orcheh nga dappa tugu duh, chuen deh, dang, yak, guram, tcha, tsamba pin!_" (i am very hungry; please give me some rice, yak meat, _ghur_, tea, and oatmeal!) i asked, in my best tibetan. "_hum murr, maharaja!_" (i want butter, your majesty!) put in mansing, half in hindustani and half in the tibetan language. this natural application for food seemed to afford intense amusement to our torturers. they formed a ring round us, and laughed at our appeal, while mansing and i, both of us famished, were left bound in a most painful position. the day had now waned. our torturers did not fail to constantly remind us that the following day our heads would be severed from our bodies. i told them that it would cause us no pain, for if they gave us no food we should probably be dead from starvation by then. whether they realized that this might be the case, or whether some other reason moved them, i cannot say. several lamas, who had been most brutal, including one who had the previous day taken part in chanden sing's flogging, now became quite polite and treated us with a surprising amount of deference. two lamas were dispatched to the monastery, and returned after some time with bags of _tsamba_ and a large _raksang_ of boiling tea. i have hardly ever enjoyed a meal more, though the lamas stuffed the food down my throat with their unwashed fingers so fast that they nearly choked me. "eat, eat as much as you can," said they, grimly, "for it may be your last meal." and eat i did, and washed the _tsamba_ down with quantities of buttered tea, which they poured into my mouth carelessly out of the _raksang_. mansing, whose religion did not allow him to eat food touched by people of a different caste, was eventually permitted to lick the meal out of the wooden bowl. i myself was none too proud to take the food in any way it might be offered, and when my humble "_orcheh, orcheh tchuen mangbo terokchi!_" (please give me some more!) met with the disapproval of the lamas, and brought out the everlasting negative, "_middù, middù_" i was still too hungry to waste any of the precious food given us. upon application the tibetans revolved the wooden bowl round and round my mouth, and i licked it as clean as if it had never been used. after all the excitement of the day, we were beginning to feel a little better. it was a great relief to be treated less roughly, were it only for a few moments, when, small as it was, the improvement in our condition was checked. a lama came from the monastery and gave orders right and left. the place was again in commotion. we were pounced upon and roughly seized. my legs were quickly untied, a number of men holding me down the while. again they lifted me until i stood upright on the cutting edge of the prismatic log; two men seized one leg and two the other, and stretched them apart as far as they could possibly go. then rope after rope was wound round my feet and ankles, and i was made fast as before to the log. as my legs were much farther apart this time, the pain in the muscles of my legs when they proceeded to knock me down backward was even greater than it had been on the previous occasion. but before i had time to feel it in full, the lamas, now as ferocious as they were at first, dragged my manacled arms backward from under my body and tied a rope to the chain of the handcuffs. this done, they passed the rope through a hole in the top of a high post behind me, and by tugging at it, strained my arms upward in a way that, had i been less supple, would certainly have broken them. when all their strength combined could not stretch me another inch without tearing my body to pieces, they made the rope fast, and i remained half suspended, and feeling as if all the bones of my limbs were getting pulled out of their sockets. the weight of the body naturally tending to settle down would, i felt, every moment increase the suffering of this terrible torture, which was really a primitive form of the rack. mansing was likewise suspended opposite me. his feet were tied to the log to which my own were fastened, only not quite so wide apart. the pain was at first intense, the tendons of the legs and arms being dreadfully strained, and the spinal column bent so as to be nearly broken in two. the shoulder-blades, forced into close contact, pressed the vertebræ inward, and caused excruciating pains along the lumbar vertebræ, where the strain was greatest. as if this were not sufficient, a cord was tied from mansing's neck to mine, the object of which was to keep our necks stretched in a most uncomfortable position. it began to rain heavily. we were left out in the open. the rags to which our clothes had been reduced in our struggle when we were first seized were drenched. half naked and wounded, we were alternately numbed with cold and burning with fever. a guard encircled us, having with them two watch-dogs tied to pegs. the soldiers were apparently so confident of our inability to escape that they drew their heavy blankets over their heads and slept. one of them in his slumber moved and pushed his sword outside the blanket in which he had rolled himself tight. this inspired me with the idea of attempting to escape. two or three hours later the night was dark. thanks to the exceptionally supple nature of my hands, i succeeded in drawing the right hand out of my handcuffs, and, after an hour or so of stealthy and anxious work, i managed to unloose the cord that bound mansing's feet. i whispered to him to get up slowly and to push the sword toward me with his foot until i could reach it. if successful in this, i could soon cut my bonds and those fastening mansing's hands, and with a weapon in our possession we would make a bold dash for liberty. mansing, however, was not a champion of agility. in his joy at feeling partly free, the poor coolie moved his stiff legs clumsily. the vigilant watch-dogs detected this, and gave the alarm by barking. the guards were up in a moment. timid as they always were, they all hurriedly left us, and went to fetch lights in order to examine our bonds. in the meanwhile, protected by the darkness of the stormy night, i had succeeded in replacing my hand inside the iron handcuff. putting it back was more difficult than drawing it out, but i just managed to do it in time. the men who had gone to the monastery returned with lights. i pretended to be fast asleep: a likely thing with every bone in my body feeling as if it were disjointed, every limb half numbed and frozen, every tendon so strained as to drive me mad with pain! the tibetans found the bonds round mansing's feet undone. they examined my hands and saw them just as they had left them. they inspected my feet. the ropes were still there cutting into my flesh. they inspected mansing's hands, only to find them still fastened to the post behind. the tibetans were so puzzled at this mysterious occurrence that they positively got frightened. they began to shout excitedly, calling for help. in a moment the alarm was given, a crowd of men rushed at us, and, with their swords drawn, surrounded us. one man, braver than the rest, gave mansing a few cuts with a whip, warning us that if the ropes were found undone again they would decapitate us there and then. the coolie was again bound more tightly than ever. footnotes: [footnote : measured some weeks later by doctor wilson.] chapter xxii a charmed life by way of precaution, a light was set between mansing and myself, and, as it was still raining hard, the tibetans placed a canvas shelter over us to prevent the light from being extinguished. at about six or seven in the morning mansing's feet were untied, but not his hands. i was left in the same uncomfortable and painful posture. the hours passed slowly and wearily. my legs, my arms, and hands had gradually become quite lifeless. after the first six or seven hours that i had been stretched on the rack, i felt no more actual pain. the numbness crept along every limb of my body, until i had now the peculiar sensation of possessing a living head on a dead body. the day now dawning was one full of strange incidents. when the sun was high in the sky, the pombo, with a great number of lamas, rode down from the monastery, a short distance away. he went to his tent. soon after, my cases of scientific instruments were brought outside and opened, the soldiers and lamas displaying an amusing mixture of curiosity and caution over everything they touched. i had to explain the use of each instrument, a difficult matter indeed, considering their ignorance and my limited knowledge of tibetan, which did not allow of my delivering scientific lectures in their language. the sextant was looked upon with great suspicion, and even more so the hypsometrical apparatus, with its thermometers in brass tubes, which they took to be some sort of firearm. then came a lot of undeveloped photographic plates, box after box of which they opened in broad daylight, destroying in a few moments all the valuable negatives that i had taken since leaving mansarowar. the pombo, more observant than the others, noticed that the plates turned into a yellowish color on being exposed to the light. "why is that?" he asked. "it is a sign that you will suffer for what you are doing to me." the pombo flung away the plate he had picked up and was much upset. he ordered a hole to be dug in the ground some way off, and all the plates to be instantly buried. the soldiers, however, who had been intrusted with the order, seemed loath to touch the plates, and they had to be reprimanded and beaten by the lamas, before they would obey. at last, with their feet, they pushed the boxes of negatives to a spot some distance off, where, in dog fashion, they dug a deep hole with their hands in the muddy ground. there my precious photographic work of several weeks was covered with earth forever. now came my paint-box with its cakes of water-colors. "what do you do with these?" cried an angry lama, pointing at the harmless colors. "i paint pictures." "no, you are lying. with the 'yellow' you find where gold is in the country, and with the 'blue' you discover where malachite is." i assured them that this was not the case, and told them that if they would untie me i would, on recovering the use of my arms, paint a picture before them. they prudently preferred to leave me tied up. their whole attention was now drawn to a considerable sum in silver and gold which they found in the pack-cases. the pombo warned the people that not one coin must be stolen. i took this chance to make an offering of five hundred rupees to the lamasery. i also told the pombo that i should like him to accept as a gift my martini-henry rifle, which i noticed rather took his fancy. both gifts were refused. they said the lamasery was very rich, and the pombo's position as an official did not allow him to carry a rifle. the pombo, nevertheless, fully appreciated the offer, and came personally to thank me. in a way the rascals were gentlemanly enough in their manner. i could not help admiring their mixture of courtesy and cruelty, either of which they could switch on at a moment's notice regardless of the other. they had now reached the bottom of a water-tight case. the pombo drew out with much suspicion a curious flattened article. "what is that?" inquired he, lifting the thing up in the air. my sight had been so injured that at that distance i could not clearly discern what it was; but when they waved it in front of my nose, i recognized it to be my long-mislaid bath-sponge, dry and flattened, which chanden sing, with his usual ability for packing, had stored away at the bottom of the box, piling upon it the heavy cases of photographic plates. the sponge, a large one, was now reduced to the thickness of less than an inch, owing to the weight that had for weeks lain upon it. the tibetans were greatly puzzled at this new discovery. they had never seen or even heard of sponges. some said it resembled tinder. the wiser lamas said it might explode. it was touched with caution. when their curiosity was satisfied, they threw it away. it fell near me in a small pool of water. this was a golden opportunity to frighten my jailers. i addressed the sponge in english, and with any word that came in my head, pretending to utter incantations. the attention of the lamas and soldiers was quickly drawn to this unusual behavior on my part. they could not conceal their terror when, as i spoke louder and louder to the sponge, it gradually swelled to its normal size with the moisture it absorbed. the tibetans, who at first could hardly believe their eyes at this incomprehensible occurrence, became panic-stricken at what they believed to be an exhibition of my occult powers. there was a general stampede in every direction. in a way, all this was entertaining. anyhow, it served to pass away the time. the most amusing scene that afternoon was, however, still to come. after some time the lamas screwed up their courage, and returned to where my baggage had been overhauled. one of them picked up my martini-henry. the others urged him to fire it off. he came to me, and when i had explained to him how to load it, he took a cartridge and placed it in the breech, but would insist on not closing the bolt firmly home. when i warned him of the consequences, he struck me on the head with the butt of the rifle. it is the fashion, when aiming with one of their matchlocks, which have a prop attached to them, to place the butt in front of the nose instead of holding it firmly against the shoulder, as we do. so the lama aimed in this fashion at one of my yaks peacefully grazing some thirty yards off. while everybody watched attentively to see the result of this marksman's shooting, he pulled the trigger; the rifle went off with an extra loud report, and behold! the rifle burst and the violent recoil gave the lama a fearful blow in the face. the rifle, flying out of his hands, described a somersault in the air, and the lama fell backward to the ground, where he remained spread out flat, bleeding all over, and screaming like a child. his nose was squashed, one eye had been put out, and his teeth were shattered. whether the rifle burst because the bolt had not been properly closed, or because mud had got into the muzzle, i could not say. the injured lama was the one at the head of the party that wanted to have my head cut off, so, naturally enough, i could not help betraying my satisfaction at the accident. i was glad they had let me live another day, were it only to see this amusing scene. the pombo, who had been, during the greater part of the afternoon, looking at me with an air of mingled pity and respect, as though he had been forced against his will to treat me so brutally, could not help joining in my laughter at the lama's sorrowful plight. in a way, i believe he was rather glad the accident had happened; for, if he had until then been uncertain whether to kill me or not, he felt, after what had occurred, that it was not prudent to attempt it. the gold ring which had been seized from me on the day of our arrest, and for which i asked many times, as it had been given me by my mother, was regarded as possessing miraculous powers as long as it was upon or near me. it was therefore kept away from me, for fear that, with its help, i might break my bonds and escape. the pombo, the lamas, and officers held another consultation, at the end of which, toward sunset, several soldiers came and loosed my legs from the stretching log. my hands, though still manacled, were lowered from the pillar behind. as the ropes round my ankles were unwound from the deep channels they had cut into my flesh, large patches of skin came away with them. thus ended the most terrible twenty-four hours[ ] i have ever passed in my lifetime. i felt very little relief at first as i lay flat on the ground. my body and legs were stiff as if dead. as time went by and i saw no signs of their coming back to life, i feared that mortification had set in, and that i had lost the use of my feet forever. it was two or three hours before the blood began to circulate in my right foot. the pain when it did so was intense. had a handful of knives been passed slowly down the inside of my leg the agony could not have been more excruciating. my arms were not quite so bad. they also were numbed, but the circulation was more quickly re-established. the pombo, whether to amuse me or to show off his riches, ordered to be displayed before me about one hundred ponies, some with magnificent harness. mounting the finest pony and holding in his hand the dreadful _taram_, he rode round the hill on which the monastery and fort stood. on returning he harangued his men. a series of sports followed, the pombo seating himself near me and watching me intently to see how i was enjoying the performance. first of all the best marksmen were selected. with their matchlocks they fired one after the other at my two yaks, only a few yards off. although they aimed carefully, no one succeeded in hitting them. i knew they fired with bullets, for i could hear the hissing sound of the missiles. next came an interesting display of horsemanship. i should have enjoyed it more had i not been suffering agonies all the time. the performance helped to cheer me. first there were races in which only two ponies at a time took part, the last race being run between two winners. a _kata_ was presented to the final winner. next one horseman rode ahead full gallop flying a _kata_, while some others followed closely behind. the _kata_ was dropped. when it settled on the ground, the horsemen following the leader rode away, and, at a given signal, galloped back wildly, converging toward the _kata_, attempting to pick it up without dismounting. some of the younger men were very clever at this game. another sport consisted in one man on foot being seized and lifted on to the saddle by a mounted comrade riding full gallop. though i could not see as well as i wished, i enjoyed the show, and expressed admiration for the ponies. the pombo thoughtfully ordered the best of them to be brought closer to me, and had me lifted into a sitting posture, so that i could see them better. this was a great relief. i was suffering more from my humiliating position, being unable to stand, than from the tortures themselves, bad as they were. the pombo told me that i must now look toward the tent. he then got up and walked toward it. the opening of the tent was over twenty feet long. some soldiers came and dragged me close in front of it, so that i could witness all that went on. two powerful lamas entered the tent with the pombo. a number of other people who were inside were turned out. they closed the tent for a few minutes, and then opened it again. in the mean time a gong summoned the lamas from the monastery and, a few minutes later, a procession of them came down and took their places inside the tent. the pombo, in his yellow coat and trousers and four-pointed hat, sat on a high-backed chair in the centre of the tent. by his side stood the two lamas who had first entered with him. the pombo was beyond doubt in a hypnotic trance. he sat motionless, with his hands flat on his knees and his head erect; his eyes were fixed and staring. he remained like this for some minutes. all the soldiers and people who had collected in front of the tent went down on their knees, laid their caps on the ground, and muttered prayers. one of the two lamas, a fellow with evident mesmeric powers, now laid his hand upon the shoulders of the pombo, who gradually raised his arms with hands outstretched and remained, as if in a cataleptic state, for a long time without moving. next the lama touched the pombo's neck with his thumbs, and caused his head to begin a rapid circular movement from left to right. certain exorcisms were pronounced by the hypnotizer. the pombo began most extraordinary snake-like contortions, moving and twisting his arms, head, body, and legs. he worked himself, or rather was worked, into a frenzy that lasted some time. the crowd of devotees drew nearer and nearer to him, praying fervently. there were deep sighs and cries of astonishment, even of terror, when the pombo performed some of the more eccentric movements with his limbs. now and then this weird dance terminated in a strange posture, the pombo actually doubling himself up with his head between his feet and his long, flat hat resting on the ground. while he was in this position, the bystanders went one by one to touch his feet and make low prostrations and salutations. at last the hypnotizer, seizing the pombo's head between his hands, stared in his eyes, rubbed his forehead, and woke him from the trance. the pombo was pale and exhausted. when he lay back on the chair his hat fell off. his clean-shaven head unmistakably showed that he, too, was a lama. indeed, he belonged to a very high order, probably the first rank after the dalai lama of lhassa. _katas_ were distributed after this performance to all the tibetans present, who folded them and stowed them away in their coats. the pombo came out of his gaudy tent. i told him that the dance was beautiful, but i was very hungry. he asked me what i wanted to eat. i said i should like some meat and tea. a little later a large vessel with a delicious stew of yak meat was brought to me, as well as _tsamba_ in abundance. i felt famished, but i had the greatest difficulty in swallowing even a little food. this, i thought, must be owing to the injuries to my spine and the semi-mortification of my limbs, which had apparently affected my whole system except my head. when the pombo had retired and night came on, i was again tied to the stretching log. this time with my legs stretched not so far apart. my arms were again fastened to the pillar behind, but with no strain on them. late in the evening half a dozen lamas came from the monastery with a light and a large brass bowl which, they said, contained tea. the wounded lama, with his head bandaged up, was among them. he was so anxious for me to drink some of the steaming beverage, in order that i should keep warm during the cold night, that i became suspicious. when they pushed a bowl of the liquid to my lips, i merely sipped a little and declined to take more, spitting out what little they had poured into my mouth. i unfortunately swallowed a few drops. a few minutes later i was seized with sharp pains in my stomach, which continued for several days after. the drink proffered me was poisoned. the following day my left foot, which had remained lifeless since i had been untied from the rack the first time, began to get better, and the circulation was gradually restored. the pain was unbearable. in the morning indecision again prevailed as to what they would do to us. a number of lamas were still anxious to have us beheaded, whereas the pombo and the others had the previous night almost made up their minds to send us back to the frontier. unluckily, it appears that the pombo had a vision during the night. a spirit told him that, if he did not kill us, he and his country would suffer from a great calamity. "you can kill the _plenki_," the spirit was reported to have said, "and no one will punish you if you do. the _plenkis_ are afraid to fight the tibetans." among the lamas no important step is taken without incantations and reference to occult science. the pombo ordered a lama to cut off a lock of my hair. a soldier did this with a blunt knife, and the pombo rode up with it in his hands to the lamasery to consult the oracle. the lock was handed in for examination. after certain incantations, the oracle answered that i must be beheaded or the country would be in great danger. the pombo rode back disappointed, and now ordered that one of my toe-nails should be cut. this operation was performed with the same blunt knife; the oracle was again consulted; the same answer was received. three such consultations are usually held by the high court of the assembled lamas, the tibetans on the third occasion producing for the oracle's decision a piece wrenched from a finger-nail. the lama who performed this last operation examined my hands and spread my fingers apart, expressing intense astonishment. in a moment all the lamas and soldiers came round and examined my hands--a repetition of my experience at the tucker monastery. the pombo, too, on being informed, immediately came and inspected my fingers. matters from that moment took a different turn. when, some weeks later, i was released i was able to learn from the tibetans the reason of their amazement. my fingers happen to be webbed rather higher than usual. this is most highly thought of in tibet. a person possessing such fingers has, according to the tibetans, a charmed life. no matter how much is tried, no real harm can be done to him. apart from the question whether there was much charm or not in my life in tibet, there is no doubt that this trifling superstition did much toward hastening the pombo's decision as to what was to be our fate. the pombo ordered that my life should be spared, and that i should on that very day start on my return journey toward the indian frontier. he took from my own money one hundred and twenty rupees, which he placed in my pocket for my wants during the journey, and commanded that, though i must be kept chained up, i was to be treated kindly, and my servants also. footnotes: [footnote : from sunset one evening to sunset next day.] chapter xxiii led to the frontier when all was ready, mansing and i were led on foot to toxem. our guard consisted of some fifty horsemen. we had to travel at a great speed despite our severely lacerated feet, our aching bones, and the sores and wounds with which we were covered all over. the soldiers led me tied by the neck like a dog, and dragged me along when, panting, exhausted, and suffering, i could not keep up with the ponies. we crossed several cold streams, sinking in water and mud up to our waists. at toxem, to my delight, i beheld chanden sing still alive. he had been kept prisoner in the mud house, where he had remained tied upright to a post for over three days. for four days he had eaten no food nor drunk anything. he was told that i had been beheaded. he was in a dreadful condition--almost dying from his wounds, cold, and starvation. we were detained for the night in one of the rooms of the mud house. the place was packed with soldiers who gambled the whole night, and sang and swore and fought, preventing us from sleeping for even a few minutes. we were half choked by the smoke from the fire. the next day at sunrise chanden sing and i were placed on yaks, not on riding-saddles, but on wooden pack-saddles. poor mansing was made to walk, and was beaten mercilessly when, tired and worn, he fell or remained behind. finally they tied a rope round his neck and dragged him along in a most brutal manner. a strong guard prevented our escaping. the soldiers demanded fresh relays of yaks and ponies, and food for themselves, at all the encampments, so that we travelled fast. in the first five days we covered one hundred and seventy-eight miles, the two longest marches being, respectively, forty-two and forty-five miles. afterward we did not march quite so quickly. we suffered considerably on these long marches. the soldiers ill-treated us, and would not allow us to eat every day for fear we should get too strong. they let us have food only every two or three days. our exhaustion and the pain caused by riding those wretched yaks in our wounded condition were terrible. all our property had been taken away from us. our clothes, in rags, were swarming with vermin. we were barefooted and almost naked. the first few days we generally marched from before sunrise till an hour or two after sunset. as soon as we reached camp we were torn off our yaks, and our jailers fastened heavy rings round our ankles, in addition to those we already had round our wrists. thus hampered with chains, the tibetans knew we could not possibly escape. we were left to sleep out in the open without a covering of any kind. some nights we were lying on snow; other nights we were drenched in rain. our guard generally pitched a tent under which they slept. even when they did not have a shelter, they usually went to brew their tea some fifty yards or so from us. helped by my two servants, who sat by me to keep watch and to screen me, i managed, at considerable risk, to keep a rough record of the return journey, on a small piece of paper that had remained in my pocket when i had been searched by the tibetans. my hands being supple, i was able to draw my right hand out of its cuff. using as a pen a small piece of bone i had picked up, and my blood as ink, i drew brief cipher notes and a rough map of the entire route back. necessarily i had to content myself with taking my bearings by the sun, the position of which i got fairly accurately by constantly watching the shadow projected by my body on the ground. of course, when it rained or snowed, i had to reckon my bearings by the observations of the previous day. we travelled first west, then successively west-north-west, north-west, west, and north-west, following the brahmaputra along a course south of the outward journey, until we reached the boundary of the yutzang (the lhassa) province. the soldiers of our guard were severe with us. they ill-treated us in every possible way. only one or two of the soldiers showed thoughtfulness, bringing us a little butter or _tsamba_ whenever they could do so unseen by their comrades. the guard was changed so frequently that we had no chance of making friends with the men. each lot seemed worse than the last. a curious incident happened one day, causing a scare among the tibetans. we had halted near a cliff. the soldiers were some twenty yards off. having exhausted all other means to inspire these ruffians with respect, as a last resort i tried ventriloquism. i spoke, and pretended to receive answers to my words from the summit of the cliff. the tibetans were terror-stricken. they asked me who was up there. i said it was some one i knew. "is it a _plenki_?" "yes." immediately they hustled us on our yaks while they mounted their ponies, and we left the place at a great speed. on reaching a spot, which from observations taken on my outward journey i reckoned to be in longitude ° ' " east, and latitude ° ' " north, i had a great piece of luck. it was at this point that the two principal sources of the brahmaputra met and formed one river, one coming from the north-west, which i had already followed, the other coming from the west-north-west. the tibetans, to my delight, selected the southern route, thus giving me an opportunity of visiting the second of the two principal sources of the great river. this second stream rose in a flat plain, having its first birth in a lakelet in approximate longitude ° ' east and latitude ° ' north. i gave the northern source my own name. i was glad to be the first white man to visit both sources of the brahmaputra river. dreary as this period of captivity was, yet it was instructive. as we went along, i got the soldiers to teach me several tibetan songs, and from the less ill-natured men of our guard i picked up, by judicious questioning, a considerable amount of information. over a more southerly and lower pass than the maium pass, by which, healthy, hopeful, and free, we had entered the province of yutzang, we now left it, wounded, broken down, almost naked, and prisoners. we proceeded in a north-westerly direction. once clear of the sacred yutzang province, our guard behaved with rather less cruelty. with the little money the pombo had permitted me to keep we were now allowed to purchase food enough to provide us with more frequent meals. while we ate, the soldiers removed our handcuffs, which they temporarily placed round our ankles. with utensils lent us by our guard, we were able to cook some food. it seemed delicious. we used flat stones for dishes. we crossed our former track, and then followed it almost in a parallel line, some miles north of it, along an undulating, clayey plateau, thus avoiding the marshy plain which we had found so troublesome to cross on our outward journey. we found a great number of black tents scattered here and there. one night, when encamped near some small lakes, we were allowed to purchase a goat. a soldier who had been friendly to us selected a fat one for us, and we were looking forward with pleasure to a solid meal when we found, to our dismay, that we had no means of dispatching the animal. we could not behead it, as the tibetans would not trust us with a knife or sword. the tibetans refused to kill the animal for us. eventually our soldier friend allowed his scruples to be overcome by the payment of a rupee. he tied the animal's legs together, and having stopped up its nostrils with mud, he held the poor beast's mouth tightly with one hand until it died by suffocation. with his free hand the soldier during the performance revolved his prayer-wheel, praying fervently all the while. we found ourselves at last in the plain, where a tarjum's encampment of some two hundred tents was to be seen. here we remained one night. there was a large assemblage of lamas and soldiers. in the middle of the night we were roughly roused from our sleep, and made to move our camp about a mile or so from the settlement. early in the morning, having crossed the large stream, we proceeded in a south-westerly direction, reaching the encampment of the tokchim tarjum the same night. here we were met by the officers who had on a previous occasion, during our outward journey, brought us gifts, and whom we had routed with their soldiers when they had threatened us. this time they behaved considerately. the oldest of them showed us great civility, and professed admiration for our perseverance against such heavy odds. the old gentleman did all he could to make us comfortable, and even got two strolling musicians to amuse us. the next day, amid repeated good-byes and professions of friendship on the part of our hosts and jailers, we departed toward mansarowar. late in the afternoon we reached tucker village and gomba, where we put up at the same _serai_ in which we had slept on our way out. all our bonds were here removed, and we enjoyed comparative freedom, though four men walked by my side wherever i went, and an equal number looked after chanden sing and mansing. naturally we were not allowed to go far from the _serai_, but we could stroll about in the village. i took this opportunity to have a swim in the mansarowar lake. chanden sing and mansing again paid fresh salaams to the gods, and also plunged into the sacred waters. the local lamas, who had been friendly during my former visit, were now extremely sulky and rude. having witnessed our arrival, they withdrew into the monastery, slamming the gate after them. all the villagers, too, hastily retired to their respective houses. the place looked deserted with the exception of the soldiers round us. poor mansing, who, worn out and in great pain, was sitting close by me, looking vaguely at the lake, had an extraordinary vision, the result, probably, of fever or exhaustion. "oh, sir," said he, as if in a dream, though he was quite awake, "look, look! look at the crowd of people walking on the water! there must be more than a thousand men! oh, how big they are getting!... and there is god!... no; they are tibetans; they are coming to kill us; they are lamas! oh, come, sahib, they are near!... oh, they are flying!..." "where are they?" i asked. "they have all disappeared!" he exclaimed, as i placed my hand on his forehead and he woke from his trance. i could see that the poor fellow was under an hallucination. his forehead was burning, and he had a high fever. he seemed quite stupefied for a few moments. on my inquiring of him later whether he had seen the phantom crowd again, he could not remember ever having seen it at all. the natives came to visit us in the _serai_ during the evening. we had great fun with them. the tibetans were full of humor and had comical ways. now that we were only two marches from taklakot, it was but natural that our spirits were high. only two more days of captivity, and then a prospect of freedom! it was still dark when we were roused and ordered to start. the soldiers dragged us out of the _serai_. we entreated them to let us have another plunge in the sacred mansarowar, and the three of us were eventually allowed to do so. the water was bitterly cold, and we had nothing to dry ourselves with. it was about an hour before sunrise when we were placed on our yaks and, surrounded by some thirty soldiers, rode off. when we had been marching for several hours our guard halted to have their tea. a trader named suna, and his brother and son, whom i had met in garbyang, halted near us. from them i heard that news had arrived in india that my two men and i had been beheaded, and that thereupon doctor wilson and the british political officer, karak sing, had crossed over the frontier to ascertain the facts, and to attempt to recover my baggage, etc. my joy was intense when i heard that they were still at taklakot. i persuaded suna to return as fast as he could to inform wilson that i was a prisoner, and to tell him my whereabouts. i had barely given suna this message when our guard seized the man and his brother and roughly dismissed them, preventing them from having any further communication with us. as soon as we were on the march again, a horseman rode up to us with strict orders from the jong pen of taklakot not to let us proceed any farther toward the frontier by the lippu pass, which we could now have reached in two days, but to take us instead by the distant lumpiya pass. at that time of the year the lumpiya would be impassable. we should have to make a further journey of at least fifteen or sixteen days, most of it over snow and ice, during which we, in our starved and weakened state, would inevitably die. we asked to be taken into taklakot, but our guard refused. the jong pen of taklakot had sent other messengers and soldiers to insure the fulfilment of his orders, and to prevent our further progress. our guard, now strengthened by the taklakot men, compelled us to leave the taklakot track, and we began our journey toward the cold lumpiya. this was murder. the tibetans, well knowing it, calculated on telling the british authorities that we had died of a natural death on the snows. we were informed that we should be left at the point where the perpetual snows began, that the tibetans would give us no food, no clothes and no blankets, and that we should be abandoned to cross over the frontier as best we could. this, needless to say, meant sure death. after travelling some two and a half miles westward of the taklakot track we declined to proceed any farther in that direction. we said that, if they attempted to compel us, we were prepared to fight our guard. whether we died by their swords and matchlocks, or froze to death on the lumpiya, was quite immaterial to us. the guard, perplexed, decided to let us halt there for the night, so as to have time to send a messenger to taklakot to inform the jong pen, and ask for further instructions. during the night the order came that we must proceed, so the next morning our guard prepared to start us again toward the lumpiya. it was at that moment that we three semi-corpses collected what little strength remained in us, and suddenly, with what stones we could pick up, made an attack on the soldiers. incredible as it may seem, our cowardly guard bolted! we went on in the direction of taklakot, followed at a distance by these ruffians, who were entreating us to make no further resistance and to go with them where they wanted us to go. if we did not, they said, they would all have their heads cut off. we refused to listen, and kept them away by throwing stones at them. we had gone but a few miles when we met with a large force of soldiers and lamas, dispatched by the jong pen to prepare for our death. unarmed, wounded, starved, and exhausted as we were, it was useless attempting to fight against such odds. as it was, when they saw we had regained our freedom, they made ready to fire on us. [illustration: we attacked our guard with stones] the jong pen's chief minister, a man called lapsang, and the jong pen's private secretary, were at the head of this party. i went to shake hands with them. a long and stormy palaver followed, but they kept firm and insisted on our turning away from the frontier, now that we were within a short distance of it. we must perforce proceed by the high lumpiya pass. those were the jong pen's orders, and they, as well as i, must obey them. they would not give us or sell us either animals or clothes, which even the small sum of money i had on me would have been sufficient to buy. they would not provide us with an ounce of food. we emphatically protested, and said we preferred to die where we were. we asked them to kill us there and then, for we would not budge an inch westward. lapsang and the jong pen's private secretary now cunningly suggested that i should give them in writing the names of the shokas who had accompanied me to tibet, probably with the object of confiscating the land and goods of these former followers of mine. as i said i could not write tibetan or hindustani, they requested me to do it in english. this i did, but substituting for the names of my men and my signature sarcastic words, which must have caused the tibetans surprise when they had the document translated. the tibetans refused to kill us there and then. lapsang showed us great politeness, and asked us as a personal favor to him to go by the lumpiya pass. as i had no alternative i reluctantly decided to accept their terms rather than waste any more time talking. escorted by the large force of soldiers, we had nearly reached kardam when a horseman came up at a full gallop and hailed our party. we stopped. the messenger overtook us and handed lapsang a letter. it contained an order to bring us immediately into taklakot. we retraced our steps along the undulating plateau above the gakkon river. late at night we reached the village of dogmar, a peculiar settlement in a valley between two high cliffs of clay. the natives lived in holes and chambers hollowed in the cliff. lapsang, the jong pen's private secretary, and the greater portion of the soldiers, having changed their ponies, went on to taklakot. we were made to halt. another letter came from the jong pen saying he had changed his mind, and we must, after all, go by the lumpiya pass! chapter xxiv with friends at last in the night a large number of horsemen arrived. there was a great commotion in the place, the people running about shouting. tibet is farmed out to officials who have practically become small feudal kings, and who are constantly quarrelling with one another. to royal jealousy, and to disputes over the rights of the road, was due the appearance of the new army. there were altogether some hundred and fifty men armed with matchlocks and swords. the chieftain of this band came to me with eight or ten other officers. he spoke so excitedly that i feared there was trouble in store for us. there was indeed. these new arrivals were officers and soldiers from the districts of gyanema, kardam, and barca. they had come with strict orders from the barca tarjum that we were on no account to traverse his province or to cross into india by the lumpiya pass. this was both amusing and tantalizing, for we had now no way across the frontier open to us. our guard and some of the jong pen's men who had remained behind, finding they were in the minority, thought it prudent to disappear. anxious as i naturally was to get out of the country as quickly as possible, i approved of all the gyanema men said, and urged them to fight in case the jong pen insisted on my going through the tarjum's province. all ways out of the country were now barred to us, and unless we resorted to force, i felt we would never escape at all. the gyanema men asked me whether i would lead them in case of a fight with the jong pen's soldiers. though not overconfident in their courage, i accepted the post of general-in-chief _pro tem._, chanden sing and mansing being elected there and then as my aides-de-camp. we spent the greater part of the night in arranging our plan of attack on the jong pen's troops. when all was properly settled, the tibetans, to show their gratitude, brought me a leg of mutton, some _tsamba_, and two bricks of tea. morning came. i was given a beautiful pony to ride. chanden sing and mansing were mounted on equally handsome animals. then followed my tibetan troops--a grand cavalcade. we started gayly toward taklakot. we had been informed that the jong pen was concentrating his men at a certain point on the road, where he intended to bar our way. it was this point that we must force. my tibetans said that they hated the jong pen's men, and swore they would slaughter them all if they dared to stand before us and prevent our passage. "but they are such cowards," declared one of the tibetan officers, "they will run away." all this talk suddenly stopped when we heard the distant tinkling of our enemies' horse-bells. i encouraged my men as best i could, but a panic began to spread among them. the jong pen's men came in sight. i witnessed the strange spectacle of two armies face to face, each in mortal terror of the other. notwithstanding my remonstrances, matchlocks and swords were deposited on the ground with anxious eagerness by both parties, in order to show that only peaceful intentions prevailed. then a conference was held, in which everybody seemed ready to oblige everybody else except me. while this was still proceeding, a horseman arrived with a message from the jong pen, and at last, to everybody's satisfaction, permission was granted for us to proceed into taklakot. my army retraced its steps toward the north-west. deposed from the high military post, which i had occupied only for a few hours, i became again a private individual and a prisoner. a large escort took us along a rocky road following the course of the gakkon river along barren cliffs. we passed hundreds of _choktens_, large and small, mostly painted red, and _mani_ walls. then, having descended by a precipitous track on whitish clay-soil, we reached a thickly inhabited district, where stone houses were scattered all over the landscape. we saw on our left the large monastery of delaling, and, a little way off, the gomba of sibling. describing a sweeping curve among rocks and bowlders, we rounded the high, graceful cliff, on the top of which towered the fort and monasteries of taklakot. such was our anxiety, when we reached this point, lest something should happen and we should be taken back again by another route, that as soon as we were across the wooden bridge over the gakkon river, chanden sing and i, on perceiving the large shoka encampment at the foot of the hill, lashed our ponies and ran away from our guard. galloping our hardest along the high cliff, riddled with holes and passages in which the natives live, we found ourselves at last among friends again. the shokas, who had come over to this market to exchange their goods with the tibetans, were astounded when they saw us. they recognized us with great difficulty. we inquired at once for doctor wilson. when we found him the good man could hardly recognize us, so changed were we. he seemed deeply moved at our pitiable condition. when the news of our arrival spread in camp, we met with the greatest kindness at the hands of everybody. in a corner of wilson's tent was a large quantity of candied sugar--several pounds. so famished was i that i threw myself on it and quickly devoured the lot. later, my shoka friends brought in all kinds of presents in the shape of eatables, and rubso, the doctor's cook, was set to prepare an elaborate meal. the british political frontier officer, karak sing, hurried to me with a change of clothes. other garments were given me by doctor wilson. my own ragged attire was literally swarming with vermin. our guard had not allowed us a single change of clothes, nor would they even hear of our washing daily. it was by a special favor, and merely on account of its sanctity, that we were allowed to plunge into the sacred mansarowar lake. later in the day my wounds and injuries were examined by doctor wilson, who sent official reports to the government of india. tenderly nursed by wilson and karak sing, and having partaken of plenty of good food, my spirits, which had fallen rather low, revived as by magic. after a few hours of happiness, i was already beginning to forget the hardships and sufferings i had endured. i remained three days at taklakot, during which time part of my confiscated baggage was returned to me by the tibetans. i was overjoyed to discover that among the things thus recovered were my diary, note-books, maps, and sketches. my firearms, most of my money, the gold ring credited with wonderful powers, several mathematical instruments, collections, over four hundred photographic negatives, and various other articles were still missing,[ ] but i was glad to get back as much as i did. to doctor wilson's tent came the tokchim tarjum, his private secretary, nerba, whom the reader may remember as having played an important part in my tortures, the jong pen's secretary, and lapsang in his handsome green velvet coat with ample sleeves. these tibetan officials admitted before the political officer, doctor wilson, pundit gobaria, and many shokas, and even professed to be proud of what they had done to me. they used expressions not at all flattering to the british government, for which they seemed to entertain great contempt. i nearly got the political officer and the doctor into a scrape. my blood, the little i had left, was boiling with rage at hearing the tibetan insults. the climax came when nerba refused to give back my mother's ring, which he had upon him. in a passion i seized a knife that was lying by me, and leaped upon nerba, the ruffian who had once fired at me, and had held me by the hair while my eyes were being injured, as well as during the preliminaries for my execution. wilson and karak sing checked me, and took the knife out of my hand. there was a general stampede of the tibetan officers, and our interview and negotiations were brought to an abrupt end. in further conversation i learned how my release had been brought about. doctor wilson and the political agent, having received news that my servants and myself had been beheaded, proceeded across the frontier to make inquiries and to try to recover my property. they heard only on arrival at taklakot from the man suna, whom i had sent from mansarowar with my message, that i was still alive and a prisoner, covered with wounds, in rags, and starving. they had not enough men to force their way farther into the country to come and meet me. besides, the tibetans watched them carefully. together with the influential pundit gobaria they made strong representations to the jong pen of taklakot. by threatening him that an army would be sent to my rescue if i were not set at liberty, they at last obtained from the reluctant tibetan potentate permission that i should be brought into taklakot. the permission was afterward withdrawn, but was at last allowed to be carried into execution. it was entirely due to the good offices and energy of these three men that i was brought back alive. [illustration: cliff habitations] pundit gobaria was the most influential shoka chief and trader on our frontier in bhot. he was on very friendly terms with the tibetans and was the intermediary through whom negotiations were carried on for my immediate release. it was largely owing to his advice to the jong pen that the negotiations led to satisfactory results. after a short rest to recover sufficient strength, i recommenced my journey toward india. having crossed the lippu pass ( , feet) i found myself at last on british soil again. we descended by slow stages to gungi, where, in doctor wilson's dispensary, i had to halt for a few days on account of my weak condition. wilson had here a quantity of my baggage, instruments, cameras, plates, etc., which i had discarded at the beginning of my journey. they came handy. i had photographs taken of my two servants and myself, showing our wounds and general condition. in the full-face photograph, reproduced in this book, can be noticed the injuries to my left eye, as well as the marks of the hot-iron torture on the skin of my forehead and nose. i could see comparatively well with my right eye, but was unable to use the left eye at all. the injuries to my spine were severe, and gave me much trouble. at times the whole of my left side became as if paralyzed. i experienced great difficulty in sitting down when i had been standing, and in getting up when i had been sitting down. through the great strain they had undergone, my joints were stiff and swollen, and remained so for several months. i was anxious to return to europe as soon as possible. from gungi and garbyang i travelled down to askote in the company of the political agent. the nerpani road had fallen in two or three places. rough, shaky bridges had been constructed across the deep precipices. we met with a hearty reception everywhere, and kindness was showered upon us by all alike. at askote i met mr. j. larkin, hastily dispatched by the government of india to the frontier to conduct an inquiry into my case. though still suffering much pain, i insisted on turning back once more toward tibet to help him in his task. by quick marches we reached garbyang and climbed toward the snows. we intended crossing over the lippu pass into tibet to give the jong pen an opportunity of being interviewed. the tibetan official refused to meet us. in order to give the tibetans every chance, we climbed over the lippu pass. it had been snowing heavily, and it was very cold. a shoka had only a few days previously been frozen to death in the snow trying to cross over the pass. there were some twelve feet of snow, and the ascent was not easy. toiling for two hours from our last camp on the mountain-side, we reached the summit of the pass. i was once more in tibet. doctor wilson, the political agent, and others were with us. having found a suitable spot where the wind did not cut quite so furiously into our faces, we halted for a considerable time and waited impatiently on the tibetan side of the boundary for the jong pen or his deputies, to whom letters had been sent asking them to come and meet us. they did not put in an appearance. in the afternoon of october th i finally turned my back on the forbidden land. i was still far from well, but was glad indeed at the prospect of seeing england and my friends again. we returned to our camp, a few hundred feet lower than the pass, where we had left our baggage and many of our men who were laid up with mountain sickness. having fulfilled our mission, mr. larkin and i returned by quick marches to almora. in conducting the inquiry for the british government, mr. larkin obtained at the frontier ample testimony of what had occurred. a full report was sent to the government of india, and to the foreign office and india office in london. a copy of the government report will be found in the appendix. winter setting in, the shokas, who had then all returned from tibet, were beginning to migrate to their winter homes lower down on the mountains. when we passed the settlement many were already at work repairing the fallen-down roofs of their winter habitations. a large number of tibetans with their sheep had also come over to spend the winter on british territory. their encampments could be seen all along the road wherever there was sufficient grass for their flocks. the tibetans--lamas and officials--maintained a high-handed and insolent demeanor as long as we were in bhot, which they regarded as part of their own country, but which was in reality british soil. it must, however, be said for them that the moment they came out of bhot, and had to deal with hindoos instead of shokas, their manner changed considerably. servility took the place of haughtiness and insolence. we proceeded with no delay to almora, and from there to naini tal, the summer seat of the government of the north-west provinces and oudh. at the latter place a conference was held on my case by the lieutenant-governor. i paid off my faithful coolie mansing, giving him enough for a start in life. he accompanied me to kathgodam, the northern terminus of the railway. genuine grief showed on his face when chanden sing and i stepped into the train. he begged that, if ever i should go back to tibet, i must take him with me; only next time he, too, must be provided with a rifle! that was the only condition. as the train steamed away from the platform, he waved his hand affectionately. chanden sing, who remained as my servant, travelled with me to bombay, and from there we went direct to florence, the home of my parents, who had suffered in their anxiety at home almost as much as i did in the forbidden land. footnotes: [footnote : some of the articles missing were some months later recovered by the government of india.] appendix _letter from_ sir william lee warner, c.s.i., _political and secret department, india office, london._ india office, whitehall, s.w. _august , ._ dear sir, with reference to the request contained in your letter of the th, and to your interview with me of the same day, i forward herewith for your use a copy of mr. larkin's "inquiry and report" into your treatment by the tibetans. yours faithfully, (signed) w. lee warner. a. henry savage landor, esq. government report by j. larkin, esq., magistrate of the first class mr. arnold henry savage landor having been reported to have been captured and tortured by the tibetans, i was sent up to garbyang in byans to ascertain the facts. mr. landor arrived in india on the th of april last. he proceeded to almora, where he arrived on the th idem. he stayed there until the th of may, to make arrangements for his travels in tibet. at first he was advised to take some gurkha soldiers with him, but this fell through, as the military did not accede to his request. he then, on the th may, arrived in garbyang in byans _patti_. it appears to have been his intention to have entered tibet by the lippu lek pass. this is the easiest, being about , feet above sea-level. it is the most frequented route taken by the traders of byans and chaudans, and is adjacent to taklakot, a mart for wool, salt, borax, grain, etc. he was, however, frustrated in this, inasmuch as the jong pen of taklakot came to know of mr. landor's intention and took steps to prevent it. he caused bridges to be destroyed and stationed guards along the route. moreover, he appears to have been kept fully cognizant of mr. landor's moves through the agency of his spies in garbyang. under these circumstances mr. landor was compelled to resort to some other route, and selected the lumpia pass, which stands at an altitude of , feet. on the th july last mr. landor, with a following of thirty men, entered tibet. he reached gyanima, where he was stopped by the barkha tarjum. this personage, however, after some persuasion, consented to permit mr. landor and seven followers to go forward to the mansarowar lake. next day the accorded permission was withdrawn, and mr. landor and his party were turned back. the party returned three marches, when mr. savage landor determined to go to mansarowar by the unfrequented wilds. on the st july mr. landor, with nine followers, at midnight, in a terrific snow-storm, climbed up the mountain and went off, the bulk of his party continuing their retreat to the lumpia lek. by this strategic move mr. landor baffled the tibetan guards (_chaukìdárs_). he carefully avoided coming into contact with any of the inhabitants, and in order to do so was obliged to keep to the high mountains and unfrequented wilds. travelling thus, with the aid of his compass, sextant, and sketch maps, he reached mansarowar. here five of his followers declined to accompany him any farther, so he paid and dismissed them. this was at tucker. thus mr. landor was reduced to a following of four men. he went on, however, and had accomplished but three marches more when two more of his followers deserted him at night. these went off with some of his supplies, all his servants' food, and ropes. mr. landor was now reduced to the following of a bearer (chanden sing) and a coolie (mansing). despite his misfortunes he determined to push on: his intention appears to have been to reach lhassa. he went over the mariam la pass.[ ] this attains an altitude of over , feet. meanwhile the deserters had bruited about the information of mr. landor's intention of getting to lhassa. while crossing the neo (tsambo) river one of mr. landor's yaks went under. the yak was saved, but its valuable load, consisting of all the tinned provisions, rs. in cash, three pairs of shoes, one slaughtered sheep, wearing apparel, razors, skinning instruments, and some three hundred rifle cartridges, was lost. this accident was directly the cause of mr. landor's capture, as he and his two followers, who were footsore, starving, and disheartened, were driven to seek food and horses from the inhabitants of the country. on the th of august, , they went to a place called toxem. the villagers received them well and promised to supply them with food and horses. next morning, the th idem, a number of tibetans came to mr. landor's tent, bringing food and ponies. while mr. landor and his servants were engaged trying and selecting ponies, the crowd increased and came up behind its three victims. suddenly, without any warning, the tibetans rushed on mr. landor and his two servants, and, overwhelming them by numbers, made prisoners of them. they cruelly bound their surprised victims. then a number of soldiers (who had lain in ambush) arrived and took over the prisoners. the first person to be dealt with was the bearer chanden sing. he was accused of having taken his master into tibet. he was questioned as to this, and also as to the maps and sketches found with mr. landor's things. i may mention that when the arrests were made the tibetans took all of mr. landor's property, which they handled very roughly, damaging most of the things. hearing the tibetans accuse the bearer, mr. landor called out that his servant was in no way responsible for his having entered tibet. thereupon a lama struck him (mr. landor) a blow on the head with the butt-end of his riding-whip. chanden sing was then tied down and flogged. he received two hundred lashes with whips, wielded by two lamas. then the prisoners were kept apart for the night, bound with cords. next day mr. landor was placed on a horse, seated on a spiked pack-saddle. mansing was put on a bare-backed horse. they still were bound. mr. landor's arms were secured behind his back. thus they were taken off at a gallop toward galshio. when the party were nearing that place they came up with a party of lamas, awaiting them by the roadside. here mr. landor's horse was whipped and urged to the front. a kneeling soldier, his musket resting on a prop, fired at mr. landor as he went past. the shot failed to take effect. then they stopped the pony and fastened a long cord to mr. landor's handcuffs. the other end was held by a soldier on horseback. the party then continued their career, the lamas having fallen in. while proceeding at full gallop, the horseman who held the cord attached to mr. landor's handcuffs pulled hard at it to try and unhorse the latter. had this occurred mr. lander must have been trampled to death under the troop of horsemen behind him. thus they hurried onward till they neared galshio,[ ] when at a turn in the road a soldier was seen kneeling at the "ready," who fired a shot at mr. landor as he came abreast of him. this, like the previous shot, missed its object. arriving at galshio, mr. landor was torn off his pony. he was in a bleeding state, the spikes in the pack-saddle having severely wounded his back. he asked for a few minutes' respite, but was jeeringly told by his guards that it was superfluous, as he was to be beheaded in a few minutes. he was then taken, his legs stretched as far as they could be forced apart, and then tied to the sharp edge of a log shaped like a prism. the cords were bound so tightly that they cut into the flesh. then a person named nerba, the secretary of the tokchim tarjum, seized mr. landor by the hair of his head, and the chief official, termed the _pombo_, came up with a red-hot iron, which he placed in very close proximity to mr. landor's eyes. the heat was so intense that for some moments mr. landor felt as if his eyes had been scorched out. it had been placed so close that it burned his nose. the _pombo_ next took a matchlock, which he rested on his victim's forehead and then discharged upward. the shock was consequently very much felt. handing the empty gun to an attendant soldier, the _pombo_ took a two-handed sword. he laid the sharp edge on the side of his victim's neck as if to measure the distance to make a true blow. then wielding the sword aloft, he made it whiz past mr. landor's neck. this he repeated on the other side of the neck. after this tragic performance mr. landor was thrown to the ground and a cloth put over his head and face to prevent his seeing what was being done to his servant mansing. this must have been done to make mr. landor believe that mansing was being executed. after a short time the cloth was removed and mr. landor beheld his servant, with his legs stretched, tied to the same log. mr. landor was kept for twenty-four hours in this trying position, legs stretched as far as possible and arms bound to a pole, and mansing for twelve hours. to add to their misery, they were kept in the rain and were afterward seated in a pool of water. the effect of this torture was to strain the muscles of the legs and arms and injure the spine. when mr. landor's legs were unloosed from their cords, they were so numbed and swollen that for sixteen hours he did not recover the use of them and feared they were mortifying. mr. landor's property was overhauled by the officials of galshio and sealed up. on the afternoon of the third day, at galshio, the two prisoners were taken on foot to toxem. it was a very trying march, inasmuch as several rivers had to be crossed. on his arrival at toxem, mr. landor saw his bearer chanden sing, in a very precarious condition, as the latter had had no food for four days. during all this time the prisoners were firmly bound and carefully guarded. next day, mr. landor and chanden sing were placed on yaks. mansing had to walk. thus they were taken in the direction of mansarowar lake. it was only on arrival at mansarowar that his guards unbound mr. landor. arriving at dogmar, the party was stopped by the jong pen of taklakot, who refused to give them passage through his district. this was a very serious affair, as it meant that the worn-out prisoners would have to be taken by a long, circuitous route _via_ gyanima and into india by the lumpia pass. this would probably have done for them. owing to the intervention of the rev. harkua wilson, of the methodist episcopal mission, _peshkár_ kharak sing pal and pundit gobaria, the most influential person among the bhutias[ ] of byans, the jong pen was compelled to withdraw his prohibition and give his sanction to the prisoners being conveyed to taklakot. arriving at this place the prisoners were hospitably received by the rev. harkua wilson, who is also a medical man. he examined their injuries and attended to them. his statement discloses the dreadful condition he found them in. the tibetan guards made over some of mr. landor's property to him at taklakot. it was then found that much property had not been restored. mr. landor had a list drawn up from memory of his unrestored property. this list (a copy) was handed to the jong pen of taklakot. i append the list. the jong pen has been called upon to restore the missing articles. he urges that the affair did not occur in his district, and that he is in no way responsible for the loss of the property. he has, however, promised to try to recover them, alleging that the affair has been reported to a superior authority at gartok. from what i could gather here, it seems probable that all the missing property, save the money, will be restored. i tried to see the jong pen, but he pleaded illness and the inutility of a meeting in which he had nothing new to disclose. this personage is notorious in these parts for his implacable hatred to english subjects. the account of the affair as given by mr. savage landor is fully borne out by his two servants, and, moreover, the tibetans who took part in it did not try to hide it. in the rev. harkua wilson's tent at taklakot, before _peshkár_ kharak sing, pundit gobaria, and a large number of bhutias, several tibetan officials corroborated the whole account as related by mr. landor. the man nerba, who had held mr. lander's hair when about to be beheaded and have his eyes burned out, admitted he had taken such part in the affair. there can be no doubt that the above account is true and unexaggerated, for the whole of byans and chaudans are ringing with it. the jong pen of taklakot was given ample opportunity to explain the affair, but he declined to do so. mr. savage landor held chinese passports, and his conduct during his stay in that country did not warrant the officials to have treated him in the barbarous, cruel way they did. i satisfied myself, by careful inquiry from the people here, as to how mr. landor behaved. he is said to have been most munificent in his dealings with all, and invariably affable and courteous. i had seen mr. landor just before his entry into tibet, and when i met him i could scarcely recognize him, though he had then fairly recovered from the terrible treatment he had received. i saw the marks of the cords on his hands and feet, and they are still visible after this lapse of time. he complains that he is still suffering from the injury done to his spine, and fears that it may be of a permanent nature. _october , ._ j. larkin. footnotes: [footnote : maium pass.] [footnote : galshio, or gyatsho.] [footnote : bhutias, or shokas.] [sidenote: all communications to government should give the no.; date, and subject of any previous correspondence, and should note the department quoted.] no. n. a. of --. _from_ the under-secretary to government, n.-w. provinces and oudh. _to_ a. h. savage landor, esq., _c/o_ messrs. grindlay, groom & co., bankers, bombay. _dated_, allahabad, _november , ._ sir, [sidenote: political department.] in reply to your letter of november , i am desired to send you a printed copy of depositions recorded by mr. larkin as noted below: . of yourself; . of chanden sing; . of man sing; . of rev. harkua wilson; . of pundit gobaria; . of kharak sing; . of suna. i have the honor to be, sir, your most obedient servant, h. n. wright, _under-secretary to government, north-western provinces and oudh. n.m._ deposition of chanden sing, _taken on the th day of october, _, _solemn affirmation administered by me._ my name is chanden sing; my father's name is bije singh; i am by caste thatola; thirty-two years of age; by occupation _kheti_; my home is at that, police station bisot, district almora. i took service as a bearer with mr. landor at almora on the th or th of april last. i accompanied him on his trip to tibet. we went along through the wilds, encountering many hardships and reached toxem. there i insisted on my master buying ponies to take us to darjeeling. this resulted in our capture, for up to then we had vigilantly kept away from the people. the people who brought us ponies to buy played us false. they informed the authorities, who sent soldiers, who lay in ambush behind the sand-hills until the crowd of horse-dealers and lookers-on, whom we did not suspect of treachery, surrounded and seized us. we were bound with cords by the arms (at back) and legs. my master was more cruelly tied than we two servants. we were taken to the raja,[ ] who accused me of having brought my master into the country. i was then stretched out and two strong men with whips inflicted two hundred stripes on me. i was questioned as to the maps. my master called out that he, not i, alone understood them, and asked that i should not be beaten. thereupon a lama struck him across the head and removed him to a distance, so that i could not communicate with him. they took all our property. then we were kept separate for the night. i was put in a room and my hands tied to a pole. i could not sleep with the pain i was in. next day my master, with his hands tied behind his back, was put on a spiked saddle and tied by a long rope held by a horseman. he went at a gallop surrounded by about fifty horsemen armed with guns and swords. man sing, our coolie, was also taken with him. my guards informed me my master was to be decapitated at galshio, and that i was to be beheaded where i was. on the fourth or fifth day my master returned. meanwhile i was a close prisoner, bound up, without food. when i saw my master he was in a pitiful state. he was handcuffed with enormous cuffs, clothes torn to rags, bleeding from his waist, feet and hands swollen. next day a guard on horseback took us back, bound as we were, on yaks' backs, toward mansarowar. there i had my cords unloosed. my master was kept bound until we got to tangchim. we were eventually taken to taklakot, where the rev. harkua wilson met us and saw our condition. he attended to our wants. my master was well-nigh at death's door. the tibetans returned some of my master's property, but they have kept about rupees in cash, two rifles, revolver, two files, a lot of soap, medicine, a butterfly dodger, matches, a box of mathematical instruments, a quantity ( ) cartridges, a large box of photographic plates and negatives, three bags. we did not molest any one, and paid more than four times the value for any food we bought. read over to witness. j. larkin. n.b.--for numerous other depositions, documents, and certificates, see larger edition of _in the forbidden land_. footnotes: [footnote : raja, or king.] the end * * * * * transcriber's note minor punctuation errors have been corrected without notice. an obvious printer error has been corrected, and it is listed below. all other inconsistencies are as in the original. the author's spelling has been maintained. page : "barrel that i made sure" changed to "barrel that it made sure". none transcriber's note: variations in spelling and hyphenation have been retained as in the original. some typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected. a complete list follows the text. words italicized in the original are surrounded by _underscores_. the 'oe' ligature is represented as oe. the asterism sign is represented as [*]. to lhassa at last [illustration: lhassa. from a photograph. _by permission, from "black & white"_] to lhassa at last by powell millington author of 'in cantonments' 'in and beyond cantonments' etc. far hence, in asia, on the smooth convent roofs, on the gold terraces of holy lassa, bright shines the sun. matthew arnold with a frontispiece _second edition_ london smith, elder, & co., waterloo place [_all rights reserved_] to captain s. h. sheppard, d.s.o. r.e. a comrade in tibet and elsewhere this book is dedicated by the author _november _ preface when the sikkim-tibet mission force marched to lhassa, it carried along with it, besides fighting men and diplomatists, a strong contingent that represented literature and the deeper sciences. we were full of brains in that lhassa column. there were men in it who had made the subject of tibet their own before they had set foot in the country, and were already qualified to discourse upon it, whether in its political, its topographical, its ethnological, or its archæological aspect. there was a man who came with us armed only with a bicycle wheel and a cyclometer, with which he has corrected all preconceived notions of tibetan distances. there was a man with a hammer (the 'martol walah sahib' the natives called him), who, if his pony stumbled over a stone, got off his pony and beat the stone with his hammer, not really vindictively but merely to find out what precious ore the stone might contain. then there was a man with a butterfly-net, who pickled the flies that got into his eye, and chased those that did not with his butterfly-net and pickled them also. there was a man too with a trowel, who did a lot of useful weeding by the roadside. there was a committee too of licensed curio-hunters, who collected curios with much enterprise and scientific precision for the british museum. lastly, there was a select band of press correspondents, who threw periodical literary light on our proceedings from start to finish. who can doubt that all the above-named are not now, in this month of november , writing for their lives, so as to produce at the earliest opportunity the results of their scientific or literary labours in the shape of books that will give valuable information to the serious student, or prove a substantial contribution to literature? apart from the above enterprises, a flood of blue-books, compiled by the authorised political and military officials, will doubtless also shortly appear, even though that appearance may in some cases be but a swift transference from the printing-press to the pigeonhole. surely, then, for one who is not ordered by authority to compile a blue-book, who has no gospel of tibetan scientific discoveries to proclaim to the world, and who has no harvest--in the shape of letters previously sent to the press and capable of republication--ready at hand for reaping, to sit down and write a book on tibet, merely because he happens to have been to lhassa and back, is a work of supererogation which needs a word of apology. my apology is that this book will be avowedly a book by a 'man in the street'--a man, that is, who occupied an inconspicuous single-fly tent in a back street of the brigade camp. as such it will throw no searching light upon the subject, but may afford a simple but distinctive view of it, and one uncaught by the searchlights of the official minute, the scientist's lore, and the war correspondent's art. but, my prospective reader, as you finger this slight volume at the bookstall, i trust that this preface may at once catch your eye, so that, if what you want to read about tibet is an elaborate appreciation or a collection of solid information, you may drop the book like the proverbial hot potato before that jealous-eyed man behind the stall makes you buy it as a punishment for fingering it, and may seize instead upon one of those weightier tomes that are now racing it through the press. powell millington. _november ._ contents chapter page preface v i. the writing on the wall ii. preliminaries iii. the base iv. to gnatong v. mountain sickness: gnatong: wayside witticisms vi. over the jalap-lÀ: chumbi: beards vii. to phari viii. to kangma ix. naini: tibetan warfare x. at gyantse: fighting: foraging: tibetan religious art xi. the start for lhassa: a digression on supply and transport xii. to ralung: more supply matters: a visit to a monastery xiii. the karo-lÀ xiv. nagartse: envoys: demolitions: baths: boiling water xv. lake palti: drawing blank: pete-jong xvi. over the kamba-lÀ: the land of promise xvii. the crossing of the tsangpo: a sad accident xviii. the end of the crossing: the 'chit' in tibet xix. monasteries: foraging in monasteries: a dream xx. reaching lhassa: supplies: messing: the lhassa bazaar xxi. enough of lhassa: a trip down country: life in a post: true hospitality: a bhutya pony xxii. the signing of the treaty xxiii. back to india * * * * * lhassa. (from a photograph) _frontispiece_ _by permission from 'black and white'_ to lhassa at last chapter i the writing on the wall 'ain't this ripping?' said i to my wife. 'yes, delightful,' she said. it really was rather nice. it had been quite hot in the plains, and was pleasantly cool up here. my wife and family had preceded me and had been settled for some weeks in the house which we had taken in the hills for the hot weather, and now i had just arrived on two months' leave. we were sitting over the fire in the drawing-room after dinner, a cosy little room made homelike by a careful selection of draperies and ornaments from the larger drawing-room in the plains. 'just ripping,' i repeated with sad lack of originality. the ride up the hill from the plains had been fatiguing. the fire was soporific. there was whiskey and soda at my elbow and a cheroot in my mouth (i'm a privileged husband and smoke in the drawing-room). 'ripping,' i said for the third time, half dozing. 'come, get up, lazy-bones, and go to bed. you are hopeless as you are.' so i was led to bed. we put out the lamps, and on the hall table found our bedroom candles, which we lit preparatory to climbing the stairs. the staircase set me musing. some hill houses have them, but they are rare in the plains. the smallness of the rooms, the existence of that narrow staircase, the domestic process of lighting the bedroom candles, the necessity of not waking the baby, the sense of security and of being cut adrift even temporarily from the ties of officialdom--all suggested the peaceful conditions of life enjoyed by the small but solid householder at home. 'we've got it at last,' i exclaimed. 'got what?' asked my wife. 'why, the life of the bank clerk at home,' i replied; 'that bank clerk whom we have always envied, who lives at tooting in a little house just like this, with a creaking staircase just like this, who never gets harried from pillar to post, who is peaceful and domestic, and gets fat as soon as he can afford to. and here i am, for two months at any rate, and i'm living in a tooting villa just like the bank clerk, and in the bosom of my family, and i'm going to get fat too.' so up we went to bed, full of peace. there was a big black centipede crawling on the bedroom wall, a sinister-looking object, looking on the white surface like mysterious handwriting, bringing with it to the fanciful mind suggestions of 'mene, mene, tekel, upharsin.' my wife has a horror of centipedes. i was at once detailed to destroy it: a feat soon accomplished. 'that dispels the bank clerk idea altogether, does it not?' one of us remarked to the other. 'bank clerks at tooting don't have centipedes on their bedroom walls, do they?' when i had gone to my dressing-room, i heard the sound below of a key turning in a lock. it was a servant opening the back door. a moment later i heard the tread of the servant's bare feet on the stairs. this was unusual. my bearer does not voluntarily visit me at this hour. yes, it was the bearer. he came to the dressing-room door and presented me with a telegram. it was 'urgent,' as denoted by the yellow colour of the envelope. 'urgent' telegrams when addressed to officers on leave are apt to involve some interference with their plans. i read the telegram and signed the receipt. the servant asked if he was wanted any more. 'yes, very much wanted,' i answered; 'but go downstairs now and i'll call you later.' then came the process of breaking the news to my wife. it is difficult not to be clumsy on these occasions. i went into the bedroom with the telegram concealed somewhere on my person. there she sat unconcerned, and i had to break it to her and did not know how to begin. i got to within a foot or two of her and then stopped, held out a beckoning hand to her, and said roughly: 'come here.' 'what is it?' she said, sitting transfixed. there was something in my face which alarmed her. i beckoned again, and again said, 'come here.' 'oh!' she cried, 'take it off, take it off! it must be a centipede on my shoulder that you are pointing at. i know it must be.' 'no, dear, it's not half so bad as that: it's only that i'm ordered to tibet.' chapter ii preliminaries the next day was sunday--not a good day on which to start preparations. i had a great many things to do. the first was to visit the civil surgeon, and be examined for fitness for residing in high altitudes. he lived at the top of a steep hill himself, and as i arrived there on foot but alive, he passed me without difficulty. then my pony who had come with me had to be despatched with the syce on two double marches to the railway terminus. then i had to procure free railway passes from the station staff officer, whose office, the day being sunday, was of course closed. there was also the putting of oneself, on the one hand, and one's wife and family on the other, on sound financial bases, preparatory to an indefinite period of separation. there was also a lot of sorting and packing to be done, and farewell visits to be made, where these were officially expected of one. (one's real friends, of course, one left without a thought.) i got off on the monday. people at home are often horror-struck at the speed with which the married officer has to leave his family when ordered on service. fond parents have been known to forbid their daughters marrying soldiers on this very account. they are quite wrong. given that you have to separate, it is much better to get the separation over as quickly as possible. in this case the speed with which those busy thirty-six hours passed between the receipt of the telegram and my departure was a real godsend. a long-drawn-out anticipation of separation would by comparison have been intolerable. my wife came to the top of the road that leads to the plains to see me off. the quickest mode of conveyance was the 'rickshaw.' there ought to be some glamour of romance about a wife seeing her husband off to the wars, but how could there be when the husband started in a rickshaw? i stepped solemnly into the vehicle, and an officious 'jampani' tried to tuck me up with a rug as though i had been something very dainty and precious, while my wife, who still preserves a critical eye for indian manners and customs, exclaims:-- 'oh dear, oh dear, this is a funny country, when one's husband starts for field service in a perambulator!' the rickshaw carried me at break-neck pace to the plains, where, with my ears singing from the sudden drop of , feet, and the heat oppressing me, i took train to my former station, to which i had to make a detour before proceeding to the base. it was a terrible two days that i had here. dismantling a furnished house, packing and warehousing your household goods, paying your outstanding bills, having parting drinks at your friends' expense, giving certificates of saintly character to every black man who has ever served you in any capacity during the past two years, and who drops from the clouds for his 'chitthi' as soon as your final departure from the station becomes known, sorting, repairing, and supplementing your camp kit, fitting out yourself, your servant, and your horse with warm clothing--these and countless other matters filled to the brim those forty-eight hours. at last i was in the train for calcutta. i met two major-generals of my acquaintance at different points during the journey. they both congratulated me warmly on the quest upon which i was going, each independently remarking, not upon the unexampled professional experience that i was likely to acquire, but on the fact that tibet was an a place for curios! nice and human of them, i thought, to put that first! one of them, i fear, was rather incommoded by the numerous articles of kit which i had with me in the carriage, and which overflowed somewhat into his portion of it. he was, i knew, a great authority on the scientific reduction of transport, and, when i apologised somewhat sheepishly for crowding him, made some grim remark about the liberal scale of baggage per officer that was doubtless being allowed to us; so i had to impress upon him that i stood an even chance of being kept at the base, and so had to be prepared for all emergencies, even a ten days' leave to darjiling. whereat he smiled more grimly than ever. don't travel from northern india to calcutta in may, if you can help it. it is not very hot when you start, but every mile you travel you find it growing hotter. you get baked as you traverse the dry plains of the united provinces, you get fried as you reach a greasier climate further south, and in the humid atmosphere of lower bengal the sensation is that of being boiled. you get out of the train in howrah station at calcutta done all to shreds. after a few hours in calcutta i took the darjiling mail train which was due the following morning at siliguri, the latter being the base of the tibet expedition. in the train i was accompanied by a throng of calcutta folk going up to darjiling for their 'week-end.' calcutta, apart from other attributes, is a great emporium of drapery and millinery goods, and it was quite natural to find myself sharing a carriage with a gentleman who in the course of conversation revealed himself as the head of a large firm of haberdashers. he was a delightful travelling companion, and regaled me with tales illustrative of the humorous side of his business. he was at his best when describing his most successful corset fitter, a damsel blessed apparently both with a slim waist and a strong arm. with the former she advertised the latest thing in corsets, and with the latter she fitted the said corset on to figures less graceful than her own. all went well till one day she surpassed herself by transforming a certain stately matron into a veritable sylph. this lady went home pleased and proud, but in an hour's time an indignant letter accompanied by the fragments of a corset reached the manager, the letter demanding the return of the money expended on the corset, on the ground that the latter, on the wearer having cleared her throat with a gentle cough, had burst in several places with a loud report. but just then the train steamed into siliguri station, and i had to leave my friend and his pleasant tales of frills and furbelows and plunge into war, bloody war. chapter iii the base i have been too long describing the preliminaries that were necessary before joining the expedition, but there is some excuse for doing so. for after all those preliminaries, with their suddenness and their hurry and rush, were distinctly typical of the indian frontier expedition. when soldiers serving the imperial government are ordered on a campaign, they generally have some warning. foreign politics have generally been simmering in the pot for some time before the pot overboils. but on the indian frontier some irresponsible ruffians perpetrate some sudden outrage, which, without any word of warning, involves the instant despatch of troops to the scene of action. the result is a scramble, an individual example of which i have tried above to describe. in all books on wars a constant comparison will be found drawn between the school-boy and the soldier on service. i dare say i shall find myself working that comparison to death. it occurred to me first as i reached siliguri, and, jostling with other fellows, rushed to the staff office there, to discover what was my next destination. we felt like schoolboys, who, at the beginning of term, rush to inquire whether they have given us our remove, or who anxiously await the publication of the notice which will tell them whether they are to represent their house at football. there was the same excitement before we learnt our fate. there was that boyish jubilation on the part of those who were off to the front, and vulgar schoolboy language from those who were to be detained at the base or in sikkim. my orders were to go to gnatong as a temporary measure. this was dubious, and might mean being stuck there or in a similar place indefinitely, or might mean being eventually sent forward. those who knew it told me that gnatong was a horrible place, that it snowed there daily from october till may , and rained from june to september , that it was always in the clouds, and that it was approached by a stony road, as steep as the side of a house, which would knock one's pony's feet to bits. the height of the place was twelve thousand odd feet, and it was situated in sikkim some ten miles on the near side of the tibetan frontier. i had to wait some days at siliguri till my pony and some of my kit, which the railway authorities had not let travel as fast as i had, should catch me up. there were several detached officers also waiting here, and the units forming the reinforcements were coming in daily. we turned half the refreshment room into a sort of station mess, having our meals at one long table. i suppose a contemplative person would have noted those accidental details which differentiated us from the ordinary travellers by the darjiling-calcutta mails, who had their meals at the other long table. there we were, the brutal and licentious soldiery feasting and drinking and gambling with shameless _abandon_, while those worthy men of affairs from calcutta and their excellent ladies took their meals hastily and in sober earnest alongside of us. some of us must have presented a queer spectacle. i remember in particular one youthful officer, whom i afterwards lost sight of, but who was the most ardent young napoleon i have met for a long time. he had apparently started growing his beard the day he left his cantonment. he was of the esau type, and the growth was brisk. the colour was ginger, not the chastened sort that is sprinkled over with sugar, but the crude dark ginger you get in jars. he affected short khaki shorts, as suitable for the soldier in hill warfare. he also affected a khaki cardigan jacket. he had left his helmet behind him, and wore only a khaki pugree with a khaki 'kula' in the centre of it. i used to see ladies, who came in for a quiet cup of tea, glancing sidelong at him. some were doubtless impressed, and went away enthusiastic about that young warrior. but in the eyes of others i fancy i saw a twinkle. at last my pony with his syce and the missing kit arrived, and i was enabled to start for gnatong the next day. chapter iv to gnatong i marched to gnatong as a passenger--that is to say, though i accompanied troops, i yet did no duty with them. the camping grounds _en route_ were small clearings in the jungle, so small that not more than two or three hundred men and two or three hundred animals could be encamped at any one spot on a given day. hence the reinforcements were marching up in very small columns. it was one of these which i accompanied as far as gnatong. about two or three days' marching takes you out of india into sikkim, but you are in the heart of the jungle almost as soon as you leave siliguri. for about seven days you hardly rise at all, merely following the course upstream of the teesta river, and later on of one of its tributaries. that belt of 'terai' jungle which fringes the skirt of the whole himalayan range has its own special charms. it is a fine sporting country for those who are on pleasure bent and are mounted on elephants, on which alone is it possible to penetrate the thick breast-high undergrowth. even for troops marching along a road running through its midst, it has a certain fascination. the incessant call of the jungle-fowl on either side of you, the constant shade, so unusual in india, the bright orchids in the tree-tops, the heavy luxuriance of vegetation that loads the air with scents that are generally sweet, the gorgeous butterflies, the steamy hothouse atmosphere--all combine to form a kind of sedative, suggestive of the lotus-flower, of pleasant physical enervation, and perpetual afternoon. one could enjoy this feeling as one sat idly on one's pony, till it was dispelled by the rain. it rained very heavily all those days. even when it did not rain the air was so laden with moisture that the very clothes you wore were always wet on the outside. the rain too was of the sort that did not cool or stir the air; the thermometer stood perpetually at a high figure, and existence on the inside of a mackintosh during one of those showers was a protracted torture of prickly heat. we reached rangpo--the town that lies on the border of independent as opposed to british sikkim--after four days' marching. i call it a town, for it certainly possessed one street and a bazaar, and swarmed with natives other than those belonging to the force. the ordinary native of sikkim seems to be a half-breed, looking partly aryan, partly mongolian, and less aryan and more mongolian as one penetrates further into the country. their women are rather picturesque. they do not give you quite the same cheery unblushing greeting as you generally get from the regular hill woman of mongolian type, but they do not hide their faces jealously from you, like the women on the plains of india. in dress they largely affect black velveteen. it would be interesting to know from where that velveteen comes, though i think it could, like the iridescent shawls and the stocking suspenders that are so largely worn by the brave men of bengal, be traced to manchester or birmingham. it must have been an enterprising bagman who first went round sikkim and persuaded the sikkimese ladies that black velveteen was the match _par excellence_ for their complexions. at length we began to climb a little, ever so little, and after two more days reached lingtam in pouring rain. this was the last of our level going; from here to gnatong we were to climb continuously, and at as steep a gradient as laden mule with straining breast-piece could hope to tackle. the lingtam camp was even smaller, more uneven, and damper than the others had been. i found a convenient difficulty arising as to where my tent could be fitted in, and simultaneously heard of the existence of a bungalow at sedonchan, three miles beyond. i was tied by no duty to the column, so determined to reach sedonchan that afternoon, and push on to gnatong the next day. those three miles to sedonchan involved a climb of four thousand feet, up a rough dripping bridle-path paved with cobbles, not nice smooth-rounded cobbles, but roughly cut spiky stones. i have said the path was paved with cobbles, but should have added that it had a supplementary pavement of horse-shoes. at first in my ignorance i thought of picking one up for luck, but a yard ahead i saw another one, and then met others at close intervals all the way, so decided that all that good fortune could not be meant for me, and had better be left well alone. it was a good farrier who could so shoe a horse that he would lose no shoe between lingtam and gnatong. i don't know in the least what sort of place sedonchan may be. it rained all the time, some fourteen hours, that i stayed there, and was shrouded in mist. so that if i ever went there again the place would still possess the charm of novelty. the next morning i found that my pony had shared the lot of most animals along that road and cast a shoe. farriers don't grow on the wayside in sikkim, so there was no alternative but to walk up to gnatong. this involved a climb of about six thousand feet, and then a drop into gnatong of about one thousand. i overtook the royal fusiliers during my walk; they had camped for the night in a puddle called jaluk which lies half-way between sedonchan and gnatong. it was during this march of theirs that i believe the following dialogue was overheard:-- 'what-ho, bill!' said atkins no. . 'what do they mean by calling this something country a something tableland? 'tain't no something tableland, this 'ere ain't.' 'garrn,' answered atkins no. , 'it's a something tableland right enough, and this 'ere as we are climbing is the something legs of the something table.' fill in the adjectives to taste, or _à la_ mr. kipling, and you get the real flavour of the dialogue. chapter v mountain sickness: gnatong: wayside witticisms those ailments which are described by the word sickness, joined to a prefix, are of two kinds. either the prefix is the cause of the disease, as in the case of sea sickness, or the expression is a _lucus a non lucendo_, as in the case of 'home sickness,' the cause of the sickness being in the latter case the exact contradictory of the prefix. sometimes the two kinds are combined, as in the case of love sickness, when both love itself and also the lack of love are the simultaneous cause of the disorder. mountain sickness, on the other hand, may be of either kind, though not of both at once. i have often had bad mountain sickness of the one kind in the plains of india. any one who has spent his boyhood scampering over scotch hills or in similar pastimes is peculiarly prone to this form of the disease towards the end of a hot june. ten days' leave, or more if possible, is then the only remedy. i had never experienced the other form till i reached gnatong. i don't exactly know how doctors describe it in diagnosis. i believe, though, that they attribute it in some way to your blood not running up the hill as fast as you do yourself, which results in blood collecting in your toes, which ought to be running about your brain and lungs. hence giddiness, nausea, headache, loss of appetite, insomnia, difficulty in breathing, and, saddest of all in some cases, an utter inability to enjoy either your drink or your tobacco. i got it badly with all the symptoms, including the last two. i was supposed to be very busy helping to see each column onwards. they were got through without difficulty--no one would stay at gnatong an hour longer than he could help. so i suppose i performed my share of the work all right, though it was done from bed. there was no one there to supervise my work, and i therefore did not have to go upon the sick list; but even so the feeling of being incapacitated by some accidental ailment at the beginning of an expedition, and of its possibly preventing you from reaching the front, is one of the most trying of ordeals. the number of victims of mountain sickness at gnatong was considerable. there was an enterprising parsi merchant who had opened a store there. his wealth of tinned provisions and whiskey lay in the shop comparatively disregarded, but he did a roaring trade in phenacetin and stearne's headache cure among the mountain sick. mountain sickness is like measles. if you get a really good go of it, you are not likely to be soon attacked again by it, even though you have to ascend to an altitude far higher than that at which you originally succumbed. many a man lay gasping for several days at gnatong, which was only twelve thousand odd feet up, and later on climbed the karo-là ( , feet) on his own flat feet, smiling. 'the last long streak of snow' was just fading as i reached gnatong at the end of may. it was not very cold, but bitterly raw and damp. i occupied a hut, which contained a fireplace, and would have made myself cosy and warm if the fire had not always smoked. this involved that distressing dilemma between having a fire and also a roomful of smoke, which had to be periodically emptied by opening the door and window, and so letting in cold and rain and mist, or sitting in a chilly damp atmosphere without a fire, but, on the other hand, without either smoke or violent draughts. this is a petty detail, but i mention it, since to the many people who spent their time mainly in posts on the line of communication, and lived in huts, this must have been an ever-recurring dilemma and a primary feature of their existence. gnatong had been an important place during the last sikkim expedition. for the purposes of the present expedition it has been renovated. the men so employed had been merry fellows, with eyes for that nice, innocent, feeble, but well-meant joke, which you appreciate on service, even though in peace time you might elect to be bored by it. these hut builders and road makers had been lavish of sign-posts. the gnatong post was placarded everywhere on the inside with the names of its tiny streets. it appeared that we were occupying what was on the whole a straggling but quite a fashionable part of london. i myself lived at 'hyde park corner.' the post commandant, if i remember right, occupied a mansion in 'carlton gardens.' we went for constitutionals up and down 'rotten row,' and found 'buckingham palace' used as a supply depot. this art of writing mildly amusing notice-boards was not confined to gnatong. on a bit of the military road near chumbi, where the roadmakers had to revet it carefully to prevent it falling into the river, there was a neat little sign-board describing this strip of roadway as 'the embankment.' outside the dâk bungalow at rangpo was a large placard on which was printed 'mount nelson hotel. no ragging allowed.' on the top of the natu-là--one of the passes dividing sikkim from tibet--there is the following: [illustration] poor jokes all of them, aren't they? but just as poor fare can be eaten with a relish after a hard day's marching; so poor jokes tickle the mental palate of the simple soldier and the stupid officer on service, just as effectively as do good ones. chapter vi over the jalap-lÀ: chumbi: beards after a week of gnatong i was ordered to chumbi, where the reinforcements and a portion of the old force had been concentrating preparatory to what is officially described as 'the second advance to gyantse.' my way lay through kapap over the jalap-là, and down through langram and rinchingong, and thence to chumbi. the _pièce de résistance_ was the part between kapap and langram. there is an easy uninteresting pass between gnatong and kapap. kapap itself looked a bleak dismal spot, lying all in the clouds at the end of a long dark lake. from here you rise to the top of the jalap-là, which is about , feet high. the suffix 'là' denotes a 'pass.' there was snow on the pass which covered the road in some places. i got into a small drift once, my pony flopping down suddenly till his girths were in the snow. he knew nothing about snow in those days, and must have been very much astonished. one's first acquaintance with so high an altitude impresses one greatly. there is something so strange about the atmosphere that one feels as though one were in another planet. the effect of the atmosphere on distances is most curious. you see the details of a hill in the distance so clearly that it seems far nearer than it is. distance-judging by eye for military purposes in high altitudes is an art governed by rules entirely different from those that govern it at an ordinary elevation. i was a bit weak after my attack of mountain sickness, and stuck to my pony's back the whole way. i felt a natural anxiety with regard to the native followers who accompanied me--an orderly, a syce, and a bearer. they were all three plainsmen. hills of any size whatever were quite strange to them. whether they would live at the height of mont blanc was a question of some moment. i expected at any time to see one or other of them lying down gasping like a freshly caught fish. i think they all died in imagination many times before they reached the top of the pass. they turned wild eyes of anguish and reproach towards me whenever i waited to see how they were getting on. eventually i found it best to leave them to themselves, and only know that they arrived down the far side alive, but expressing a poor opinion of tibet as a country (for we now were in tibet). the walk down to langram was trying to the toes, but brought us off the bare mountain tops and into a region of pine-woods, the very smell of which is always comforting. here i stopped the night, descending next morning to rinchingong, which is in the chumbi valley, and stands barely over , feet. two miles above rinchingong we had passed yatun, the frontier tibetan village built against that chinese wall which stretched as a barrier right across the valley, but has since been demolished by british dynamite. here, besides the dwellings of some tibetan inhabitants, were the houses of the british official who controls the chinese customs in this direction, and of miss annie taylor, the lady missionary who has worked for long, and all alone, among the tibetans of the border, nursing them in sickness, and telling them of christianity. 'ani' is tibetan for nun, and the name 'ani memsahib' has therefore a double signification to those who use it. the first glimpse of a building on the north side of the jalap-là proclaims the fact that you are no longer in india or under the influence of indian ideals of domestic or other architecture. the houses in the chumbi valley are not, however, as typically tibetan as those further north, being far more chinese in appearance. it is, in fact, curious that chinese influence seems more prevalent in the chumbi valley than in any other part of eastern tibet, except lhassa itself. the number of chinamen actually resident in the chumbi valley is itself large, and there seems to have been a great deal of inter-marriage here at one time or another between the local tibetans and chinamen proper, the women of such unions having of course been tibetan, since the chinaman, when he goes roaming, invariably, i believe, leaves his women folk at home. the following day brought me into chumbi. it was pleasant to be in a big camp again, to join a large mess, and get the latest news from headquarters. the valley itself was a delightful spot to have reached. after the unpleasantnesses of those heights that one had traversed, this valley seemed a sheer garden of eden. it was a place to dally in, in which to wander about accompanied by your best girl, picking wild flowers for her, and listening with her to the humming of the bees, and the bubbling of laughing brooks, rather than a place in which to concentrate an army for an advance into the enemy's country. chumbi would make a glorious summer sanitarium for british troops in the hot weather, provided that that projected route, which is to avoid the passes and run through bhutan to the bengal duars, ever becomes an accomplished fact. two thousand feet higher than most hill stations, and yet below the really giddy heights, in a climate no hotter at any time than an english summer, never parched with drought and never visited by protracted spells of rain, not perched on an inconvenient hilltop away from its water supply, but lying in a fertile valley, through which runs a river of pure water that knows not the germ of enteric, with enough flat spaces to hold commodious barracks and to provide good recreation grounds, it seems that it would prove an altogether desirable haven for the invalid soldiers from calcutta and the presidency district. a week spent here was pleasant enough, enabling one, so to speak, to recover one's breath after descending from those heights we had left behind and before tackling those in front. i soon learnt, with the same school-boy jubilation to which i have previously alluded, that i was to accompany the advance. here, of course, at this rendezvous of troops many old friends ran across one another. it was sometimes difficult for two friends to recognise each other on account of the obstacles to recognition formed by their respective beards. the soldier's service beard, in its various forms and aspects, forms an interesting study. there is, of course, the ordinary dull beard grown by an adequately but not outrageously hirsute person and trimmed to a conventional shape, which makes the wearer resemble any such normal being as a naval officer, a parson, or respectable middle-aged civilian of everyday life. the only striking feature of this beard is that it is productive of unexpected likenesses. you have, for instance, known a brother officer for many years, and never found him possessed of any of the glamour of royalty; you meet him on service wearing his beard, and find he is the veritable double of the prince of wales. but there are other beards. there is, for instance, what may be called the 'infant prodigy' beard, a monstrosity adorning the chin of a quite youthful officer. the latter may be put to serve under you. and it takes time and much hardening of yourself against external influences before you have the effrontery to order the young gentleman about, or tell him off when he is in error. i remember an instance of a fairly senior captain calling on a regimental mess and being entertained during his visit by the only officer of that regiment then present. the latter possessed an 'infant prodigy' beard, which was also flecked with a few abnormal grey hairs. i was in that mess too at the moment--in the capacity of honorary member only--and followed the interview with relish. the senior captain was becomingly deferential, and the youngster's grey beard wagged with what appeared becoming dignity. at last a light was brought in by a servant, for it was growing dark, which flashed for a moment on mr. greybeard's shoulder strap, and revealed two simple subaltern's stars. the gradual, almost imperceptible, change in the senior captain's manner, and the corresponding falling from his high estate of mr. greybeard were interesting to watch. the former soon got up to go. 'damn that fellow! i mistook him for the colonel,' is what i am sure he said to himself when he got outside. then there is what may be called the 'british workman' beard--that is, the beard which is allowed to grow in its own sweet way, and may adopt any of the sizes or shapes that one sees on the faces of such british workmen as never visit a barber. this type also is productive of strange likenesses, not to public personages or one's own compeers, but to the men of the british working class whom one has known in old days. there were many officers so adorned who made excellent gamekeepers or gillies, and in particular i remember a certain stalwart major whose beard grew in two inverted horns that splayed outwards on his chest, and who was the very image of my father's old gardener. i once very nearly addressed him as 'horton' by mistake, for that happened to have been the gardener's name. chapter vii to phari the 'second advance' began in due course. the first few camping grounds were small, so that we had to proceed on the three days' march to phari in several columns, two columns a day leaving chumbi together, but halting at separate camping grounds on the way up, and meeting again at phari. this march to phari was, until we actually reached the phari plain, quite the wettest i have known. it rained incessantly. the first day we climbed a few miles up to lingmatam. (how like one another the names of places in this part of the world are! it took me months to distinguish between lingtam, langram, and lingmatam.) from lingmatam (a sopping, spongy, flat little plain nestling in the hills, that had obviously only just missed its proper vocation of being a lake instead of a plain) we marched up a rough bridle-path through pine-woods to dhota. we had a very long train of pack-mule transport in our column, and the checks up that steep narrow winding path were interminable, while rain fell the whole time. whenever anything went wrong with a mule's load, which of course happened frequently owing to the steepness and roughness of the track, it was impossible to take the mule aside to adjust the load, for there was no room at the side, and the mule had to be halted where he was till the adjustment was completed. this involved the halting of say five hundred mules, who happened to be behind the mule who had first been halted. and when the latter at last moved off, it of course took an appreciable interval of time before the next mule followed suit. multiply that appreciable interval by the number of mules in the rear, say five hundred, and you find that it takes perhaps a full half-hour before the five-hundredth is at last on the move again. thus that initial adjustment of a refractory load has cost the rear of the column half an hour's delay, and by the end of the half-hour you may be sure that the load of another mule has got loose, and the whole process has to be repeated. this is just an instance of the trials of a transport officer, and of his faithful servants, the transport driver and the pack-mule. i remember, during one such check, being seated on my pony at a point of the road where it was impossible to dismount for lack of space, with one mule's head buried in my pony's tail and another mule's tail flicking my pony's nose, the rain trickling off my helmet and down my neck, and, worst of all, a strong aroma rising from the khud beneath where lay the remains of a mule who had met his death at that spot at a date that was palpably neither very recent nor yet innocuously remote. to be bound almost literally hand and foot in the vicinity of a bad smell is a form of torture which in its way gives points to any inquisition. dhota lies at a considerable height above lingmatam, and, before we reached camp, many of the mule drivers were somewhat exhausted with their climb. there was a certain amount of almost inevitable straggling on the part of some of them--a most unfortunate occurrence, for it resulted in a few leaving their mules to their own devices just when the control of the latter was most necessary. for after emerging from the pine forest a few miles below dhota we came on to a hillside on which grew ever so little of the deadly aconite plant. a check would occur somewhere to the column. those mules who were left standing without their drivers would--as is the nature of the beast--try to improve the shining hour by picking up a little grazing from the roadside. here and there a mule would swallow some aconite, and the chances were that before he reached camp he would foam at the mouth and quickly expire. a few, though poisoned, reached camp alive, and of these a small proportion were saved by drastic remedies. but the deaths that day from aconite poisoning almost reached double figures--a regrettable occurrence, for the mule is an animal for whom, when one knows him, one entertains affection, and, besides this, each mule carries two maunds of useful provisions on his back, and we were not too well off for transport. after another wet night on another wet camping ground, we marched into phari. we had left the green valley of the chumbi; we had mounted upwards through the pine forests beyond; we had emerged into a region of rugged scenery where great rocky precipices hung over us. we wondered what still wilder regions we were now approaching as we still climbed higher. but all of a sudden, as it seemed, we had reached the end of our climb and found ourselves on a level green plain with rolling green downs around us, the sort of homely gentle scene that meets you when, for instance, you cross the border between england and scotland, or pass on the railway the lower fells of cumberland--a scene suggestive of sheep grazing on rich close turf, and of comfortable homesteads hidden away in the folds of the hills. this abrupt transition brought to the mind the tale of jack and the beanstalk. it seemed that we had climbed to the top of the world that had hitherto been ours, and were starting afresh on a new level. this sensation was chiefly illusory; for that level green plain and those rolling green downs deceived one with their greenness, and proved on closer inspection to be but indifferent pastures, while after a mile or two the plain bent round a corner, and we came in view of such mighty irregularities of the earth's surface as left no doubt as to our being still in the very heart of the mountains. for as we turned that corner, suddenly, as with a sudden flash, and all lit up with the sunlight that had just dispelled the clouds, chumalari stood before us, his white top only a few miles away, but many thousand feet above us, and so reaching to a height in the sky that to the stranger's eye was almost appalling. to us men the romance of scenery is very elusive. i have known nice old ladies to whom a fine sunset was a real substantial joy, giving them the same nocturnal exhilaration that baser clay can only acquire by absorbing a bottle of champagne. given a male mind properly swept and garnished for the time being by some potent influence--preferably of course a sweet influence of the feminine gender--even the most businesslike and prosaic of us can, if only for short intervals at a time, empty ourselves of the things of this ugly world and assimilate a little of nature's beauty. but in ordinary humdrum life, when that sweet feminine influence is no longer at his side (or, if still at his side, has lost much of its old magic by having been so foolish as to be now his mere wife), the ordinary brutal humdrum man regards the finest waterfall in the world as merely a good place at which to dilute his whiskey, finds blue sunlit waters rather trying to the eyes, and execrates the glorious sweep of the mountain in front of him as conducive to perspiration and shortness of breath as he climbs it. we can't help it, we men; we are built that way; it is the nature of the beast. but even so when by some strange accident we are taken unawares, and some rare and magnificent glory of nature suddenly confronts us, and, without our consenting or even against our will, pierces that crust of sordid matter-of-factness that usually encases us so securely, as did that great white mountain chumalari that day when we met him on the phari plain, then we too abandon ourselves and for once in a way find ourselves drinking in the beauty as greedily as ever that old lady drinks in her sunset. a few miles along the plain brought us to phari. chapter viii to kangma all our little columns concentrated at phari. our camp was just outside the 'jong' or fort. phari-jong was quite typical of the genus 'jong,' looking from the outside like the sort of mediæval castle that sometimes adorns the foreground of a drop-scene in a theatre. on the inside it was rather extra-typical, being even more rambling, darker, and dirtier than most jongs. a grim humorist had selected the topmost garret as the post-office. this selection gave the local postmaster, who was also possessed of grim humour, the vastest entertainment. for the little columns came pouring in day after day, bringing all sorts of folk who were pining for their letters. every one, as soon as he was off duty, went head-down to the post-office. we were now at a level of , feet, and the climb, at that altitude, of several hundred feet of rough tibetan passages and staircases was a great strain on the lungs to any one unused to it. the postmaster sat in his office, cool and comfortable, while all day long officers, british rank and file, sepoys and followers, poured in for their letters, every one arriving panting, with his tongue lolling out, and quite unable to state his requirements for at least two minutes. the postmaster made a point of asking every one most politely what he wanted at the very moment of his arrival, so as not to keep him waiting, and grinned diabolically at the desperate efforts of the latter to splutter out his name and address. when, as one of the victims in question, i went for my letters, and had duly provided him with my share of the entertainment, i asked him whether he was not enjoying himself, and he assured me it was the best fun he had ever had in his life. from phari to kangma we marched in two columns, of which i accompanied the second. the 'tang-là' was our first halting-place--a bleak spot very much swept by the wind. from there we marched to tuna, and thence to dochen, with chumalari on our right, showing us a new view of himself as we rounded each spur that jutted out into the plain. we passed many herds of the kiang or wild ass, some of us galloping after them in an attempt to get a close view; but they are fleet and wary, and evaded us altogether. the simple peasant of that part of tibet has been known to allude to the kiang as the 'children of chumalari,' and thus to explain their sanctity, for chumalari himself is a sacred mountain. whether belief in this origin of the kiang is orthodox, or merely a local superstition, i do not know. hereabouts we passed the 'hot springs,' where still lay what was left of the corpses of many tibetans who had fallen in the fight that had occurred there some months before. we had, i am told, once actually buried these corpses when we found that the enemy were making no effort in that direction; but the tibetans, holding curious theories on the subject, had again unearthed them. the principle that apparently governs tibetan obsequies is the desirability of making a corpse fulfil its natural function as food for animals. hence exposure of corpses as food for wolves or vultures causes them no pang. they even, it is said, so far elaborate the above principle as to regard a corpse as specially honoured when given as food to the domestic pig, the origin of this development of the principle being of course really utilitarian; for the high-placed tibetan, since in his life he 'feeds high and lives soft,' must of necessity in his death be specially nutritious. lama-fed pork is--so they say--regarded as the greatest of delicacies. leaving dochen and the lake, on the bank of which it lies, we turned up a valley to our left, and emerged at kalatso, the name given to the post which adjoins the lake of the same name. from here we marched along the kalatso plain to menza. the next day was to bring us into kangma. my commanding officer was with the first column, and had given me orders to ride on early on alternate days to meet him at the camp ahead of me before he left the latter. his hour for leaving each such camp would be a.m., by which hour i had to arrive there. i had to bring a sergeant with me on each occasion. it was fifteen miles from menza to kangma. the road was rather rough, so they said, but one could cover the distance in two hours and a half, so i decided to start with the sergeant at half-past six. at a quarter-past six i found that my pony had bruised a fetlock against a stone in the night and was distinctly lame. i could not get another mount, and had to share the sergeant's, and we had little more than our two hours and a half for the journey. it so happened that i had just been reading a story of primitive life in western america, called 'the little shepherd of kingdom come,' in which a very sound method by which two men can travel on one horse is alluded to. a. starts on horseback at, say, eight miles an hour, and b. on foot at, say, four miles. when a. has gone a given distance he dismounts, ties the horse to the nearest tree or stone, and proceeds on foot. up in due course comes b., mounts the horse, and, riding on, should overtake a. just when a. has finished his fair share of walking; after which the process is repeated to the end of the journey. i was a. and the sergeant was b. the road was quite deserted, and the part through which we were going was at that time reported quite peaceful, so there was practically no risk in leaving the pony alone for short spells at a time. it was a most comfortable arrangement altogether. we travelled at the average rate of six miles an hour. each of us had a pleasant ride alternating with a pleasant walk. even the pony, though, when on the move, kept going pretty hard, yet had pleasant breathers between whiles. we arrived punctually at . a.m., of course to find that the first column had decided to halt a day at kangma, and that therefore there need not have been any hurry. but then, of course, that is always the way in such cases. we had one great adventure just before we reached kangma. i had been walking, and the sergeant had just caught me up, on the pony, when two shots rang out. i located them as coming from a village a short way off. the sergeant affirmed that they were both volleys. i was in a beastly funk, and perhaps the sergeant was not altogether unmoved. just then two mounted infantrymen, fully armed, rode up from the kangma direction. i have great respect for mounted infantrymen, but i have known them spin yarns. we asked whether there were any of the enemy about, to which they replied that their name was legion, or words to that effect, and that they were all around us. this being so, it did not seem to matter in which direction we went; so we pushed on, indulging in the pleasure of each other's company for the time being (instead of one riding ahead while the other walked). shortly we rounded a corner, and another shot rang out, followed by the appearance of two more mounted infantrymen. we asked the latter what the firing was about, and they told us that the commandant of the donkey corps, who was just round the next corner with his donkeys, was making a fine bag of pigeons. chapter ix naini: tibetan warfare we were all halted a day or two at kangma. there was some truth after all in the yarn of the first two mounted infantrymen whom we had met on the road, for some of the enemy had been located not far away, and a flying column had gone out after them. the enemy evaded the column successfully, and the latter returned after no other incident except the death of a man and one or two mules from the effects of drinking water which the brave enemy, ignorant of such western vagaries as the geneva convention, had artfully poisoned. some unladen mules, of which we stood in considerable need, were brought in that same day by a small escort from gyantse. they had been fired on _en route_, and so everything began to point to the chance of a bit of fighting in the near future. from here onwards we amalgamated into one column, and that first march out of kangma was particularly typical of the inconveniences of a comparatively long column when marching on a narrow hill-road. it may seem strange, but was really quite natural, that our small force with its transport should occupy five miles of road-way, which was, i believe, its approximate length, and to get this five-mile-long serpent to crawl successfully through the 'red idol gorge,' and later on wriggle over a certain very narrow, rather ricketty bridge, that barred the way close to camp, was a matter of many tedious hours. horribly cold it was too that afternoon, as one waited for one's kit to turn up, the valley just there being a veritable chimney that drew a terrific draught up from the gyantse direction. our labours were also beginning to increase somewhat, owing both to the compressed fodder from india having run out, and our being no longer in a peaceful region, where we could procure fodder by contract. both at kangma and here we had to send out foraging parties. we were still observing a most courteous attitude towards the enemy, and were paying the villagers handsome sums for what fodder we took, provided any villagers showed themselves. however, in many cases the villages were completely deserted. that afternoon a reconnoitring party of mounted infantry returned with one man badly wounded, and the report that the village of naini, seven miles ahead, was strongly held by the enemy. this meant fighting on the morrow. on the morrow we marched early to naini, and disposed ourselves for battle. below the road, and quite out of range from the village, were some convenient fields of young barley, upon which we closed up all the transport, and removed the loads. we were dreadfully punctilious at that period of hostilities about commandeering fodder or damaging crops, and as soon as the fight began i remember the late major bretherton--the chief supply and transport officer--sending me with a delightfully worded message to the commandants of transport units regarding the extent to which their animals might graze. i was to tell them that, though all damage to crops was to be rigidly avoided, yet if by any chance a mule did so far forget himself as to nibble a blade or two of young barley, the matter need not on the present occasion be taken too seriously, as the only ground available for closing up the transport was the ground on which that nice young barley was growing. so while 'all day long the noise of battle rolled' a hundred feet above them and two hundred yards away, the transport animals did themselves 'top-hole' on the enemy's best young barley; a good thing too, for they got precious little fodder when they reached camp that night. i got a good view of the naini fight, seeing most of it in company with the general's staff. a portion of the gyantse garrison had come out to assist, and peppered the village and lamasarai from a high hill above, while our own column enveloped them from other directions. we made some fine big holes in their walls, and many a bee's nest of laymen and fighting monks was disturbed by a well-directed shell. later on came the turn of the infantry at what must have been unpleasantly close quarters. the fighting in tibet was of course, in one sense, quite a minor matter. but, on the other hand, it was quite a distinctive kind of fighting, and, as such, does not deserve to be ignored. my share in those fights was mainly that of an interested spectator, and in this capacity i give my opinion of it. i should say that for any one who, like myself, never had to go within a certain distance of the position, there could be no more gentlemanly way of getting your baptism of fire than on a tibetan battlefield. the jingal, for instance, is a delightful weapon at that range. of course, if a jingal bullet hit you (a heavy rough-hewn thing of about three inches diameter), it would make a hole that it would take a lot of surgery to fill up. but normally, in the latter stages of its flight, the jingal bullet lets you know it is coming. furthermore, except at close range, it is very inaccurate. so if what you desire on the battlefield is mild excitement, with the minimum of risk, i would recommend exposing yourself to jingal-fire at, say, from six to twelve hundred yards. a very different tale would be that of the fighter in the firing line. most of the fights in tibet involved not only street-fighting but house-fighting, and this species of fun generally began immediately after a steep climb of several hundred feet. i can imagine few greater physical and moral trials in modern warfare than that endured by those officers and men of ours, who, while gasping for breath after a race up a steep slope in that rare air, penetrated in small parties first through narrow streets, then into dingy courtyards, and lastly into byres and store-rooms and living-rooms that were generally pitch dark, not knowing from what hole or corner, or with what murderous form of clumsy firearm, they might not at any moment be fired upon by an unseen foe at close quarters. for the sake of those who went through this trial and were not found wanting, tibetan warfare should not be despised. the fight at naini was waged for many weary hours. its spectacular charm had soon worn off. the juxtaposition of fierce excitement and deadly boredom is a strange feature of warfare. there, two hundred yards away, men were killing one another, and here were some of us positively yawning! late in the afternoon, our pride of conquest somewhat chastened by the pangs of hunger, we marched onwards to gyantse. as we drew nearer we heard what seemed like a very irregular artillery salute fired by very drunken gunners in honour of some personage entitled to a very large number of guns. it was only the jingals in the gyantse-jong firing away at us patiently and solemnly, in the pious hope that they one day might hit something. their main objective was a ricketty bridge across the gyantse river which we had to cross before reaching our camp. some jingal bullets did on occasion fall fairly near the bridge, and one mule was actually hit in the act of crossing. the crossing of that bridge took till late into the night. all the way from naini the path was intersected with irrigation nullahs, of which most were full of water. this caused many checks, which culminated in the block at the bridge. the latter began to fall to pieces before all the transport was over, some animals occasionally falling off into the water. the last of the rearguard reached camp about midnight. chapter x at gyantse: fighting: foraging: tibetan religious art the ten days or so spent at gyantse were occupied in fighting, in waiting, through periodical armistices, for the result of negotiations which came to nothing, in sightseeing and in foraging for our present needs, and for the advance to lhassa. the two fights here alluded to were the taking of tsechin and the taking of gyantse-jong. at the former i again had a front seat in the stalls, watching the show in company with the headquarters' staff, but had to leave, with some aggravating message to camp, just as the curtain was rising on the last act. during that long day, at the end of which gyantse-jong was taken, i saw very little of the fighting till just the very climax, when certain duties took me to the village pálá, where the staff were watching the final phase. no boredom on this occasion, but intense excitement. the final assault on the jong was a sight well worth remembering, coming as it did at the close of so tedious an action. the artistic effect of the maxim on what one might call spectacular warfare is, i think, greater than that of artillery. shells going off at intervals of course bring out the tragedy of war by the awful noise which they make, but the rapid ping-ping-ping of the maxim sets your blood tingling and really excites you. it was a glorious spectacle, that last assault. the rush through the breach of those ghurkhas and their comrades into that frowning impregnable-looking jong to the tune of artillery, dynamite, and maxims would have appealed to the veriest man of peace. and as the jong became ours, the cheer that went up from every point where troops and followers stood in knots, watching the outcome, was a glorious climax to that long day. a flying column that followed the retreating enemy to dongtse failed to catch them up, but returned with a fine haul of useful forage. foraging had for some time been the order of the day, except when fighting interfered with it. the gyantse plain is very rich, with villages dotted about at close intervals, all standing among rich crops and nominally containing plenteous stores of what were our staple needs. but the art of hiding such stores is possessed in a high degree by the tibetan. some officers, who later on had much practice in foraging, became experts in finding the hidden store-rooms, knowing at a glance at what point on a given wall in an upper chamber the wall painting ceased to be of a permanent nature, and was merely a temporary daub concealing the rough cement and pile of loose unbaked bricks which blocked the doorway of what, after use of crowbar and mallet, proved a veritable mine of grain or barley flour. of course, while at gyantse, the towns and lamasarais of gyantse and tsechin were our happiest hunting-grounds. in one lofty room alone we one day found eight thousand maunds of barley flour, all neatly bagged and sealed with a tibetan official seal, doubtless a mobilisation reserve of the tibetan army, and, alongside of it, another similar room filled with loose grain to a height which we could never really explore, since the weight of the grain made it impossible to open the door more than an inch or so, from which small aperture our requirements trickled out by the mule load. if we had had enough transport to carry on from gyantse all the supplies which we found there, our commissariat problems would have been easy. as we foraged on the days following these fights our way was strewn with corpses. the warriors from the khám country, who formed a large part of the tibetan army, were glorious in death, long-haired giants, lying as they fell with their crude weapons lying beside them, and usually with a peaceful, patient look in their faces. as types of physical humanity they could not be easily excelled. i remember one day one of the khám men, a prisoner, was helping me to set in order a refractory watermill stone with which i was trying to grind wheat into flour. my commanding officer came to see how i was getting on and caught sight of the prisoner. he gazed at him in admiration and then exclaimed: 'by jove! what a fine corpse he would make!' very brutal of him i thought it was till i had seen more corpses, and then i realised the true artistic insight of the remark. i suppose it would be no more possible for an ordinary person to do justice to gyantse as a sightseer than for any one who had had no classical education to visit rome or athens in the true academic spirit. just as the key to those places lies in a knowledge of classical history, mythology, and archæology, so would the true key to gyantse lie in a knowledge of the history of buddhism in general, and of the tibetan variations of buddhism in particular. the main tenets of buddhist doctrine, as one may acquire them in a handbook or an occasional magazine article, afford very little clue to tibetan religious art. buddha himself one can understand, and one becomes quite to know and admire the gently supercilious, ever-smiling expression that is faithfully caught in every statue and picture of him which one sees. and one can understand the motive in exemplifying the variations of human fortune by pictures of the wheel of life which show types of all the degrees of human happiness and unhappiness--instances of indescribable tortures at one side of the wheel, lesser miseries adjoining it, followed by similar gradations so arranged that as we go round the circle we come at last to fair scenes of ideal human bliss. but the application of the same kind of gradation to deities worshipped, and to the representations of them given in art, is not so easily understood. there is a certain highly symmetrical edifice standing in gyantse monastery. the centre of it consists of one huge buddha reaching from the ground to the height of, i should say, one hundred and fifty feet. round this are built tiers upon tiers of small shrines; each tier contains one less shrine than the tier below it. the shrines are of equal size, so that the general effect of the whole edifice is that of a pyramid. you rise from tier to tier by a narrow hidden staircase. each shrine contains one idol. if you start at a certain point on any of the tiers, and go round that tier, you will first enter the shrine of a perfect buddha, for whom you will feel at least some reverence. the next shrine will contain an idol that impresses you less, and has about it some taint of the world. the next is a thoroughly worldly idol, the next is ugly, the next is obviously wicked, and the next a demon. the demons grow in demoniacal qualities till suddenly you arrive again at the buddha from whom you started. the tiers above are all arranged on the same principle, except that, the number of shrines decreasing by one in each case, the gradation from buddha to demon grows more abrupt as you ascend. then again, in the most holy of spots, not only in gyantse but even, for instance, in the audience hall in the sacred 'potá-là,' or palace-monastery of lhassa, one comes across images of what to european eyes appears the lewdest character, and similar representations are constantly found on the painted scrolls, which everywhere are seen hanging in the monasteries. such strange excrescences on the external face of a religion that ranks so high in regard to the spirituality of its essential tenets, and the extent and depth of its influence on human life, as does buddhism, seem only to point to the endless intertwinings of religions that must ever have been in process since the world began. here we have, for instance, one of the noblest and purest of religions tainted--at any rate as regards the art which is ancillary to it--with those twin poisons of demon-worship and priapism; all contact with which one would have imagined it to have been pure enough and strong enough to throw off centuries ago. that strange similarity on less essential points that exists between religions which are far removed from each other, both in history and in doctrine, makes one long to read some really comprehensive history of human religion that will, by dipping down into the furthest depths of the past, reveal to us the answer to such problems as, for instance, the strong and apparently family likeness between the joss-sticks and tallow altar-lamp of the buddhist, and the incense and wax-candle of ornate christian ritual. though it would appear that what is barbaric may survive, in the form of ritual, as an acknowledged and in some cases, it may be, even a helpful adjunct to a religion which in every other respect has cast off all that is barbarous, yet some of those demons and those licentious pictures that we saw in tibet seemed to the western mind altogether too vile to be thus explained away. but, even so, what fool shall rush in and criticise the east? chapter xi the start for lhassa: a digression on supply and transport suddenly the order came that we were to march to lhassa forthwith. who should and who should not form the lhassa column must have been a difficult question to settle. to perform invidious tasks of this sort must be the most trying feature of generalship. it would be hard to find an occasion on any expedition when, to the individual soldier, going on seemed to mean so much, and staying behind so little. forbidden cities are so fascinating, and the idea of assisting in drawing aside a pardah so appeals to our rude imaginations, that the desire to reach lhassa was especially great. those high passes in front of us, the shores of the great palti lake and the upper brahmaputra, that we knew not how we should cross, all seemed also to point to a varied adventure, and there was a spice of excitement in the thought of marching through a country, on the resources of which we should have largely to maintain ourselves, while as yet we knew hardly anything of their kind and extent. we left the sad gyantse garrison behind us, and marched off one morning in threatening weather that soon turned to rain, our path for the first few miles lying across a veritable bog. we consisted of the whole of a british and a section of a native mountain battery, of a wing of the royal fusiliers, of two companies of mounted infantry (drawn from various native regiments, and consisting of sikhs, ghurkhas, and pathans) of the th ghurkha rifles, several companies of the nd sikh pioneers and the th pathans, one company of sappers and miners, and two machine gun detachments. several field hospitals or sections of field hospitals accompanied us, besides, of course, many other miscellaneous necessities such as ammunition column, treasure, supply column, post-office, veterinary establishment, and field park. the telegraph department was conspicuous by its absence, it being a feature of the advance to lhassa that we left the telegraph behind at gyantse--a proceeding which doubtless had both its inconvenient and its convenient results. last but not least came the transport. one may divide this into regular and irregular. the regular transport consisted of the whole or portions of five indian mule corps, the th, the th, the th, the th, and the th; the irregular of a cooli corps, and two locally raised corps--one of yaks and the other of donkeys. our transport was so big an item and so big a necessity that a short sketch of it as it ploughed through the sodden fields outside gyantse that wet july morning may not come amiss. the average indian transport pack mule, aged probably fifteen to eighteen years old, is the finest old soldier we have got. if, like lord roberts's gray arab, he were allowed to record his services round his neck, he would display a fine collection of medals and clasps. allowing that he is now fifteen and that he joined the ranks ten years ago, and allowing as a general principle that where a frontier expedition of any size takes place the bulk of the regular mule transport of the army in india is required for it, we can take it that at the age of six he had a rough breaking-in to war conditions in chitral; that, after a year or so of peace, he carried convoy stores or troops' baggage over many weary marches in the malakand or the tochi valley, or in tirah. in , as likely as not, he was entrained one hot midsummer day, carried off to calcutta, and shipped to china. as an alternative he may have been wanted in south africa. later on he very probably served in the mahsud blockade. between whiles he has had a few spells of cantonment life, but has probably spent his hot weathers daily carrying the needful water supply up to some hill station, perched on a hilltop, from a reservoir two thousand feet below, and a portion of his cold weathers in the feverish sham warfare of manoeuvres. all the time he has preserved the same dogged, cheery temperament, getting out of the train at the base of an expedition, seeing there the familiar sights that portend field service, then having a good roll in the dust, getting up and shaking himself, as though to say, 'here we are again,' like the clown in the pantomime; or plodding along through rain or snow or hot weather duststorm with two maunds on his back, and only wondering casually what will be the next practical joke which his masters will perpetrate on him. his is a rough lot, but he takes it kindly, and with good grain and fodder is not unhappy. the mule driver also is a man of parts. compare him with that fine soldier--the cavalryman. the former has to feed, groom, fit and clean the gear of, and sometimes forage for, three or four animals instead of one, as is the case of the latter. further, the cavalryman mounts his beast, while the mule driver marches on foot. the case of the mule and his attendant came before the government of india a few years ago, who decided to improve their status. they have since accomplished a great deal by introducing an organised corps system among indian transport. the system was worked experimentally for some years, and is now an authorised and accomplished fact. the mule and his driver, instead of, as was formerly the case, being no men's children in particular, belong to their troop, to their subdivision, and to their corps. every corps is distinguishable by its uniform, and is commanded by a british officer, who has under him his own permanent subordinate staff, and who is responsible for the well-being and efficiency of all the men and beasts in his charge. the enhancement of efficiency and well-being, and, perhaps more than all, of the personal self-respect of the individual driver, which has been the result both of the new organised discipline and of the new _esprit de corps_, is very marked. it remains only to prove conclusively that in the field, the inter-organisation of transport can be sufficiently maintained to serve its object, without interfering with other military considerations. the allotting of their transport to combatant units, according to their exact requirements, without destroying the organisation of the transport units themselves, often constitutes a problem which a chief transport officer has difficulty in solving. the _via media_, which on this expedition has afforded a solution, has been to let the transport organisation, if necessary, go to the winds on the march itself, but to give it the first claim to consideration when once a column has reached camp. those irregular corps which supplemented the permanent military pack transport were most indispensable but delightfully heterogeneous. it may be interesting to describe the journey of, say, a maund of rice from siliguri to lhassa on these various forms of transport. wrapped in its waterproof to keep off the rain torrents, the rice was dumped into a bullock-cart at siliguri. if the road did not collapse from a landslip at any awkward moment and so drop the bullock-cart and its contents _en masse_ into the teesta river--a not infrequent occurrence--the rice-bag probably reached rangpo. from there it probably proceeded for a few marches on the back of a pack bullock, a patient beast who moved slowly, and whose feet in that damp climate got very tender, and on those stony paths very sore. later on it reached steep gradients where the pack bullock could no longer carry it, and it was handed over for several marches to a cooli. the cooli would be a native of some hill district of india (panch, for instance, or darjiling). he and the comrades to whom he passed it on would take it over either the jalap-là or the natu-là, down into the chumbi valley. from here a pack mule or an 'irregular' pack pony would take it up to phári. from here across the phári plain through tuna and kalatso and as far as menza it would lie in an ekka, for this was flat country, and it had seemed worth while and eventually proved a signal success to drag up from india several hundred of those plainly built but strong little two-wheeled carts called ekkas, which hold five maunds each, and can be used on almost any road, however rough, provided it is wide enough to hold both wheels. these ekkas had been run up behind their ponies as far as possible, then taken to pieces, and carried in fragments on the backs of coolis over the passes and up on to the phári plain, where, at a height of , feet, they were put together again and plied to and fro, at first greatly to the astonishment of the resident tibetan, who had never seen any wheels other than prayer-wheels. most of the ekkas were drawn by ponies of the small 'country-bred' type brought from india, but the casualties among these were sometimes replaced by draught yaks. from menza onwards our rice-bag had a choice of mounts. it might go on a pack mule, or meander slowly along on the back of a pack yak, or, with the other bag alongside it, entirely eclipse from human view the most miniature of donkeys, who, nevertheless, if allowed ample time to look about him, and to pick up weird grazing by the roadside, would eventually arrive in camp none the worse, and with his load intact after a uniform progress of about one mile an hour. on one or other of these animals the rice-bag would eventually reach lhassa, or, if it foregathered with the lhassa column on its way up, it might be handed over to one of the coolis who accompanied that column. it probably reached lhassa intact, its waterproof bag having protected it from all weathers; but it might also have got a small hole somewhere among its ample coverings, and lost a pound or two on the way, or--for such is human nature--arrive still weighing the original eighty pounds, but containing a stone or two in the place where some few odd pounds of rice ought to have been. the manners and customs of our various transport animals would form an interesting study in natural history. the yak, to the uninitiated intruder, was of course the most striking. the mule we know, and the donkey we know, and the cooli was more or less of the same species as ourselves; but the yak was a novelty. the yak is a buffalo in petticoats. this seems an incongruous combination, for the _à priori_ idea of a buffalo is of something fierce, and of petticoats, of something not fierce. but in this case petticoat influence has altogether prevailed, for the yak is the mildest natured of animals. he moves very slowly, takes life very quietly, and is content with little here below, or rather here above, for if you take him below , feet he pines for the heights. i believe he is really at his cosiest when lying in a snowdrift on a winter's day with his petticoats around him and only his horns showing. he then feels really well tucked up. both yaks and donkeys were very cheap forms of transport. it is true that yaks had a way of dying and donkeys of deserting, but even so their initial cost was very small, they needed very few drivers in proportion to their numbers, and possessed the art of living on the country. an animal that along a line of communications of some four hundred miles' length, and lying in an inhospitable country, neither asks you to bring him up fodder or even grain from the base, nor yet expects you to go foraging for him, is indeed a treasure. the yak and donkey drivers were tibetans, as also were many of the hospital ambulance carriers. the most noticeable points about these tibetans were that they were inveterate gamblers, and were also very much married. the idea of accompanying us without their womenkind was quite foreign to them, and we had to accede to their prejudices in the matter. merry little souls those women mostly were. their foreheads and noses usually smeared with that pigment of sows' blood which proclaims to the world the tibetan woman's chastity, they were ever to be seen laughing or chaffing one another, either on the march or else in camp, over their domestic duties or their knitting. their stocking-knitting was of a high order, except that the art of 'turning a heel' was unknown to them. i remember passing a knot of them one day as we climbed one of the worst passes that we had to encounter on the march--a climb of four thousand feet without a break. hill people know better than any one the advantage of breathing rhythmically, and the tibetan loves to acquire this rhythm by singing over any work that strains him at all. tibetan men and women, as they thresh their corn with the flail, chant pretty ditties in unison, and tibetan boatmen on the sangpo will sometimes sing to their work. and here was this band of women singing cheerily as they climbed that mountain side, and never pausing in their song. they were well up with the advance guard too, and the chorus could be heard all down the column--a novel sort of band with which to cheer a british army onwards on a toilsome march! the cooli too, especially he who hied from the hinterland of darjiling, was as merry a soul as you meet on a day's march. some were quite boys, not more than sixteen, yet the way they shouldered their loads was wonderful. the regulation load was eighty pounds, but i have often seen quite a youngster with a hundred pounds on his back, taking it steadily along up thousands of feet, and taking it as a matter of course, and giving you a grinning greeting as you passed him. when off duty, they would be for ever skipping about like mountain goats, skylarking, and pulling one another about. the supervising staff of ghurkhas, too, all had the jolly ghurkha face. for a cheery family party it would be hard to beat that cooli corps. but that lhassa column with its train of transport has got well out of the bog by now, and it behoves us to overtake it. chapter xii to ralung: more supply matters: a visit to a monastery from gyantse to ralung is a steady upward incline, and took us three days. it rained most of the time, both day and night; it was difficult to get dry again when once you were wet, and there was a good deal of discomfort experienced in all quarters. one camping ground was particularly unpleasant, which for the most part consisted of ploughed land that was not only soaking with the rain, but had recently been irrigated. as we had risen considerably higher than the gyantse plain, the crops on this and similar ground had hardly begun to show. in fact, from here onwards for many days to come, there seemed very little chance of obtaining any grazing for our animals. we had taken all the transport we could, and loaded it with as many supplies as possible, all selected according to our known needs on the one hand, and the possible but unknown resources of the country on the other; but even so our prospects were not rosy. the mule, for instance, cannot live on grain alone: he must have fodder, and one mule in a very few days will consume as much fodder as is equivalent in weight to his own authorised load. hence, if you provide a mule with a reserve of fodder to last him that number of days and make him carry it, you might just as well leave him behind, since he will then be able to carry nothing else except his own fodder. this, in a country where fodder is not locally procurable, is, at any rate in the case of the pack mule, one of the great problems of army transport, and we were brought face to face with it more than once during this march. grain too is heavy stuff, or, in other words, gets quickly consumed. we used over two hundred maunds a day, or more than a hundred mule loads, and so could not start our march with many days' supply in reserve without excluding other things that also had to be carried. the next heaviest item was tsampa (the tibetan barley flour which we were now using as a substitute for the 'áta' or coarsely ground wheat flour usually consumed by natives). of this we used seventy maunds daily, and so had only a few days in reserve. meat, though a large item, is much more tractable stuff, for it walks on its four feet till you kill it. it can even be of use in carrying other things. for instance, we had made up our minds that, if sheep and cows ran short, we would eat each yak that, on account of the depletion of supplies, had no longer a load to carry! the other items of food, though many of them costly and highly essential, were none of them very bulky, and of these we had been able to bring along some weeks' reserve. our more pressing needs were therefore confined to fodder and grain and tsampa, and many were the foraging parties that went forth on arrival in camp, or that made a detour from the line of march in search of these articles, some drawing blank, some getting very little, and some occasionally a fair haul. at ralung we got a fair haul. there is a very fine monastery there, situated up a valley five miles from where we camped. i remember spending a very pleasant afternoon there. i had gone there, immediately after arriving in camp, with my commanding officer to see what could be got out of the place. we found some whole barley, some tsampa, and a fair stock of straw. my commanding officer left me there to await the necessary transport while he went back to camp to send it. i really had a very pleasant time, being hospitably entertained both by the monks and also the nuns--especially the latter. they brought me out 'chang' to drink, a home-brewed light wine, made i believe from barley, and the carcass of a sheep that had been cooked whole, and from which you were expected to pick off your individual requirements. it had already had a lot taken from it, and from a certain self-assertiveness that there was about it, i concluded that it had been a standing dish for a considerable period, and contented myself with my own sandwiches. then they came and talked to me through the interpreter whom i had with me, and quite a youthful little nun in a picturesque woolly red cap came and sat beside me and did her knitting. my overcoat had been wet through for three days, and the sun coming out gave me a chance of drying it. quite warm and cosy it all was, with ladies' society and all thrown in. i was quite sorry when, after several hours of waiting, a long serpent-shaped line of mules slowly trailed up the valley and came for the grain, the tsampa, and the straw. we were paying again for what we foraged, and i remember doling out what must have seemed to the recipients a prodigious number of rupees. tibetan monasteries are undeniably rich, but, especially in outlying parts, i fancy they do all their buying and selling in kind. for instance, they collect their taxes in kind, and it is certainly feasible for them to obtain labour, clothing, and such necessaries without having recourse to coin. the fact that the average lama was unused to dealing in large sums of money seemed to always have one of two opposite effects. he either did not seem to grasp the fact that a large sum of money really represented 'articles of value,' and had no desire whatever to part with any of his possessions in exchange for it, or else, being either less ignorant and knowing its value, or more simple-minded and attracted by its glitter, he would accept the money with pronounced greed. the effect of all the coin that we took to and left in the country must have had a curious economic effect on tibet. for a country that trades largely by barter to be suddenly flooded with rupees should, according to the ordinary principles of political economy, raise the current prices of all commodities to an extraordinary extent. however, tibet, queer country that it is, has probably a political economy all of its very own, and will arrange such a matter entirely differently from western expectation. even our rupees, as such, were not always approved, a distinction being sometimes drawn between those enfaced with king edward's head and those enfaced with queen victoria's. the latter were approved on the ground that they were 'kampani' rupees, the queen's face being apparently regarded as the trade mark of the east india company, of which the past generation of tibetans must have heard and passed on the memory to their children, who still thought it was in existence. a new symbol, such as that of a man's head, was thus naturally viewed at first with suspicion. chapter xiii the karo-lÀ the next day brought us just under the karo-là pass, and we camped at a height of , feet, with a great mass of snow so near us on the hillside that, while the sun was still up, it quite hurt our eyes to look in that direction. avalanches of snow kept falling from the mass, coming down with a great thud that was almost startling. there was a little mountain sickness that night; but, considering the height and the fatigue that had been involved in reaching it, there was remarkably little. a very little reconnoitring to the front in the early afternoon had revealed the enemy in position a mile or so the other side of the pass. they had built two walls, one behind the other, on what appeared to be admirably selected ground. they seemed in fact to have been studying tactics to some purpose. it was pleasant to get up the next morning in a sharp frost, and to get, as it were, one glimpse into winter--a glimpse, however, that only lasted till the sun got up. cold for the past few months had not been our bugbear, but rain, and to-day there was no rain, the sky was cloudless, and the air crisp and fresh, and as soon as the sun was up, even moderately warm. a few minutes' walk took us to the top of the pass, , feet. from there the road descended gradually, but the headquarters' staff, whom for the moment i was accompanying, kept to the hillside at the same level as the top of the pass till they came to a good _coin de vantage_ from which to view the first phase of the fight. for it was obvious that we were to be opposed. the artillery stayed close by us, while two parties of ghurkhas were sent to scale the heights on either side, and the fusiliers and some more infantry sent along the valley to attack the formidable-looking walls which the tibetans had erected ahead of us. it soon appeared that the enemy had decided at the last to leave the two walls down in the valley, behind either of which they could have assuredly made a useful stand, and had instead betaken themselves to the top of an almost inaccessible ridge overlooking the walls and about two thousand feet above them, on what was to us the right side of the valley. from near the top of this ridge a jingal soon began firing, and kept up an intermittent cannonade for several hours. our artillery fired a great many rounds in that direction, but it was difficult to ascertain what effect they had. it was apparent that the brunt of the fighting during this phase of the action would fall upon the right party of ghurkhas, who now in the distance, as they climbed steadily up the steep cliffs to our right front, looked like a string of tiny ants. they must have climbed two to three thousand feet before they reached the ridge, and thus gone into action at a height bordering on , feet. before they could get near the enemy they had to cross a steep strip of snow. ploughing through that within range of the enemy must have been somewhat trying. they got near them at last and accounted for a good many, including, it was afterwards ascertained, two important leaders. the ridge on which the tibetans made their stand contained several caves, in which the enemy proceeded to hide, so that what followed must have been a species of ratting, which resulted in the capture of a good many prisoners. meanwhile the rest of our forces moved onwards, and the th pathans were at length sent in pursuit of several of the enemy who were seen escaping upwards in the direction of a glacier, while the artillery from their new position kept the latter moving with a few rounds of shrapnel. after a lot of ammunition, breath, and muscular tissue had been expended in this uphill pursuit, there was no sign left anywhere of the enemy on or below the skyline. they had apparently disappeared over the glacier. we were then ready to march to camp. after a very short distance we passed zara, a small village alongside of which is a chinese rest-house. close to the village we came upon our enemy's camp standing as they had left it in the morning. we got from it a good deal of tsampa and found more in the village itself, where they had evidently stored their reserve of this, their only article of food. we were in need of firewood too, and found a lot of useful logs lying about the camping ground, not to mention a large number of tent poles made of good seasoned wood, which burnt well that night in our own camp. we camped about five miles further on, and about a thousand feet lower down. to descend into a somewhat more plentiful air was a relief after a night and a day on the karo-là. our great difficulty that night was the lack of fodder. the mules had had a long day and no grazing, and there was not a blade of anything to give them. we did the best we could by doling out an extra pound of grain per animal, which was issued, after a long soaking, in small quantities at frequent intervals. this helped to fill the gaps left by the lack of fodder. a weed resembling vetch with a small purple flower grew on the hillside. we also cut some of this and gave it to the mules, who ate some of it, but on the whole preferred any loose ends of their next-door neighbours' jules or blankets. there was a great deal of woollen texture consumed that night, and some of the jules were a sorry sight in the morning. the noise made at night by hungry mules who have no fodder is very distressing. that night they kept up a constant complaining. chapter xiv nagartse: envoys: demolitions: baths: boiling water next day we reached nagartse. this is a village surmounted by a jong which is perched at the end of a rocky ridge which runs from higher hills close down to a corner of the lake palti. there is one monastery inside the jong itself, and another on the hillside close by. there was a belt of standing crops close to the jong which were more advanced than those on the other side of the karo-là. on the whole we appeared to have reached something of an oasis. if the enemy had decided to make a stand against us here, we should have had very little difficulty in ousting them. it would have been quite easy to send our mountain guns up on to the ridge above the jong, and a very few shells from that position would have probably secured a speedy evacuation. as a matter of fact, after a little parleying, they decided to evacuate, and we were to be free of the jong and all it contained, while of course we respected all property of theirs that pertained to religion. from here onwards we were constantly met by deputations of envoys. the sight, which first of all used greatly to tickle the fancy, of important tibetan personages under bright umbrellas and riding splendid mules splendidly caparisoned, and led by servants in gorgeous liveries, soon grew quite common. at every point of any importance along the line of our advance, this or a similar cavalcade would come hurrying up. what exactly used to take place at the interviews which followed, i am not privileged to know, but apparently fresh reasons were advanced on each occasion for our not going further on our way to lhassa, and fresh specious promises of considering our demands in a conciliatory though vague spirit were never wanting. but after a pleasant talk of many hours the purple and fine linen used to ride away baffled. we halted at nagartse for two nights. we found it a useful place to have captured. unfortunately it contained little grain, of which now we were growing very short, but we found in it a large storehouse of bagged tsampa, which was very welcome. it proved also to have been used by the enemy as an arsenal, and several boxes of gunpowder were discovered in it, hidden away in a barn among quantities of straw. we had grown wary in searching jongs since the day, a fortnight or so before, when some accident such as a lighted match falling through a flooring in gyantse-jong had caused the explosion of a store of gunpowder which had done much havoc among a party of fusiliers close by, several of whom had been seriously injured. the gunpowder found at nagartse was destroyed by us, and certain portions of the buildings demolished, the latter process producing a fine haul of firewood in the shape of the beams and rafters of the demolished houses. that process of demolition, in which the sappers and miners were past masters, is one of the dirtiest jobs i know. i was there to collect wood from the _débris_, which the sappers and miners demolished. as each wall falls it throws up a cloud of dust, and the filth of ages in small particles enters your eyes, your ears, your hair, and your mouth, and covers your clothes: no small matter when the clothes in which you stand may be the only suit you possess, and the function of having a bath cannot be undertaken lightly, but needs due warning, ample preparation, and assured leisure. many of us who serve in india have, for considerations of health, which to the englishman at home seem absurd, but are nevertheless proved by anglo-indian experience to be imperative, had to abjure the cold bath. for such a hot bath is the only form of complete ablution. your tent, if you do not exceed your scale of transport, will be small and will have no bath-room attached; then for preparing the bath, you have to remove all the ordinary contents of the tent outside into the open. then will follow the setting in position of whatever form of camp bath you may possess, or may be able to borrow. meanwhile an extra allowance of firewood has to be procured and the water made hot. by the time all is ready and you are beginning to take off your clothes a considerable time will have passed. if, during that period, some exigency of field service does not arise which requires you to leave all those preparations regretfully, and postpone the bath to another day, you are lucky. even if you get through with your project without being disturbed, it is as likely as not that the day for getting your clothes washed being a movable feast, you will have nothing to put on that will not seem a defilement to your freshly polished skin. getting water hot enough was sometimes difficult when you wanted as much as is necessary for a bath, if the wind blew high and firewood was scanty. but this was nothing compared with the difficulty experienced in such forms of cookery as were associated with boiling water. the temperature at which water boils at an altitude of, say, , feet is, i believe, some forty degrees lower than boiling point on the sea-level. i wondered for a long time why my tea never seemed to have been made with boiling water, and i am afraid a certain faithful youth who used to make it for me got rather harsh treatment till my scientific education was sufficiently advanced to absolve him. tea that is served up at a temperature of forty degrees below the normal boiling point can never be very nice. and it got cool very quickly, which of course was natural. when i returned to india the other day, i could not make out why i was always burning my tongue over my tea, till i remembered that of course the tea which i was now drinking was made with water that boiled at an ordinary boiling temperature, and so remained too hot to drink till it had been allowed to stand for a decent interval. it was in its effect upon rice as part of the natives' ration that this low boiling point was really of serious import. rice well boiled is a good ration for natives, but there was many a case of indigestion and colic attributed to the rice which had been spuriously boiled at one of these high altitudes, but never really cooked. chapter xv lake palti: drawing blank: pete-jong we left nagartse in very wretched weather, and for the next few days marched in rain and camped in rain. a spell of bad weather like this, bad enough as it is for every one, man or beast, is perhaps worst of all for the mules who carry the tents, for a thoroughly soaked tent is literally twice its normal weight; and ours on this occasion, after the initial soaking, got no drier for several days in succession. we were now marching alongside the lake palti. once or twice the clouds broke for an hour or so, and the sun and sky lit up the lake, and so showed it us in its true colour--that unique shade of turquoise, unlike anything in water scenery that the most travelled of us had ever seen before. i forget whether any scientific explanation of the peculiar colour was forthcoming among the learned, but the water of the lake being distinctly brackish may contain certain salts which, being diluted throughout the whole extent of the lake, produces some faint effect of colour on the water, and this, in combination with the sky's reflection, results in the turquoise shade which we so admired. the tibetans, with that large-mindedness which characterises their disposal of their dead, do not forget the fishes of the lake palti, and in that region corpses are made away with by being thrown into the lake. it would thus appear that, what with its salts and functions as a cemetery, the lake supplied but indifferent drinking water. at one or two camps that we occupied by its side, there were no streams flowing down from the hills, so we had to be content with the lake, but no ill effects resulted. many were the fish that were caught in lake palti, as we skirted its banks, and that embellished those dinners that were now getting so plain. the regular trout fishing appliances--greenheart rod, reel and silk-spun line, catgut cast and choice zulu or march-brown fly--accounted for large numbers; but side by side with the sportsman so equipped would stand some sepoy or follower with a lengthy stick, a bit of string, and a bent pin baited with a bit of tsampa, whose efforts would be crowned with success quite similar. really accommodating fish those were, that gave the skilled angler the entertainment he sought, and yet did not disdain that humbler one who with simpler devices fished only for the pot. yasig was our first camp out of nagartse. there was a village two miles from camp, but it contained no supplies, and was deserted except for a few old women. in those days, to the casual traveller through tibet, old women would have appeared to form the bulk of the population. a useful thing, an old woman! you can use her as a cat's-paw. though afraid to go yourself into the vicinity of the invading foe, you can yet send your old woman to watch over your interests in the village, to feed and milk the cows that you have left hidden there, to perform such small agricultural functions generally as may save the farm from utter ruin, and to return periodically with the latest news of the foe. that seemed to be the idea which dominated the tibetans in this matter, and perhaps it was a sound one. i can certainly imagine no more effective 'chowkidar' upon a village than an ancient, toothless, slatternly tibetan woman, who greets you with tongue out and thumbs upturned (the conventional symbols of submission), and weeps long and loud from the moment you approach her until you leave her. i believe aristotle has defined tragedy as 'a purging of the emotions with sympathy and a kind of horror.' according to this definition the sight of these old women was essentially tragic. you went to a village hoping to find in it a stock of good things, and you found only this old woman and nothing else. you were sorry for the old girl, of course; but when you saw the filth encasing her and the lice enveloping her, you were filled indeed with 'a kind of horror,' and rode away promptly with your emotions thoroughly purged after the correct aristotelian method. the tibetan of course knew that this would happen, and this was why he sent his old woman to guard his property. we hoped not to draw blank at the next halt, for here we came to the village pete, surmounted by pete-jong, an important landmark on our route. but now we began to discover that some one had stolen a march on us, and was looting ahead of us. it appeared that, of the army that had opposed us at the karo-là, one portion had disappeared over the glacier, but that another was in retreat towards lhassa, and was feeding itself somewhat ruthlessly on the country as it went. from reports that reached us, it appeared also that the paymasters of the tibetan army regarded their duties lightly, and that the force in front of us, consisting mainly of mercenaries, had no compunction in looting not only the bare means of subsistence, but also any supplementary stores which by a generous calculation might seem equivalent in value to the arrears of their pay. even so it was not so much what they took that spoilt our chance of finding stores to purchase, as the fact that each act of looting on their part at once became known in all the villages ahead, with the result that stores of all kinds, but especially grain and tsampa, were being hidden away from the reach of either the tibetan army or ourselves with the utmost possible despatch. hence our prospects again became far from rosy. there was fortunately some grazing at pete-jong for the animals, but both grain and tsampa were growing short. a day or two more, without some addition of these articles, would see us depleted. pete-jong, a fine square-topped fort, built on a rock, overtopped by high mountains on one side, and overlooking the blue waters of lake palti on the other, looked magnificent, and more than ever reminded one of that drop-scene in the theatre. 'what a shame,' my wife says, 'to draw such horrid comparisons!' but i tell her they are not horrid really. in fact, a short sojourn in tibet, a country freed from the obscurities of a thick atmosphere, and full of great dense mountains and lakes, and of startlingly crude contrasts of bright colours, quite revolutionises for the time being one's ideas of landscape art. in one of those diffident modern impressionist pictures, in which the artist is afraid to make his sky or water really blue, or his snow really white, or his mountain-tops really lofty or distinct, one finds nothing that appeals to one's sense of vivid truth. but in that drop-scene above alluded to, lit up as it would be by glaring footlights, or in that glorious wealth of colour that is daubed by machinery on to even so low a thing as a tradesman's almanac, or, again, in that magic lantern slide reflected on a sheet, which gave to one as a child such romantic ideas of nature rampant in switzerland or the holy land, there is more that represents the clear form and crude colour of the uplands of tibet than would ever be found in the works of any up-to-date royal academician. as memory fades, and one becomes used again to denser atmospheres and to features of the earth's surface that are less pronounced, i suppose one's ideas will revert to their normal orthodoxy. pete-jong, fair and romantic from the outside, is the reverse within. we left a few troops there, making it a post on our line of communication (as we had done also in the cases of nagartse and ralung). i was sorry for the pete-jong garrison. the lower part of the jong was occupied by byres and barns and dark chambers, all of them empty of all but filth. through the centre of the jong, and through the rock on which it was built, a rough stone track, half path, half staircase, ran upwards, mostly in pitch darkness. from the walls at the side, from the roof overhead, and from the ground beneath, moisture seemed to be always exuding, the walls and roof being all slimy and musty, while greasy mud oozed perpetually from the interstices of the stones on the floor. no sunlight ever reached this dark passage, so that the moisture could dry no faster than it was replenished by that hidden spring in the rock which apparently was its source. the only suitable habitable rooms were high up at the top of the jong, and these were designed as barracks, hospital, store depot, and post commandant's quarters. but every time any one went outside the jong from his quarters, he had to go down this slimy black artery and return the same way. after halting one night at pete-jong the column marched on in soaking rain to the foot of the kamba-là. here we were to leave lake palti and mount the pass that stood above our camp. chapter xvi over the kamba-lÀ: the land of promise about a thousand feet of zig-zag climbing were to bring us to the top of the pass, where we would again for the moment stand over , feet. the morning was fairly fine, and the clouds high. it took hours, of course, before our five-mile-long column had reached the top. we toiled up slowly, many of us with sad misgivings, for that supply column in the rear was grievously light, and its further depletion would mean much to all of us. to any one whose thoughts were for official reasons specially driven into this channel, the moment of arrival at the cairn that marked the summit of the kamba-là was perhaps the most critical moment of the expedition, if not even its veritable turning point. since leaving gyantse we had marched through a country that seemed to grow more and more destitute of the supplies we needed. chance had given us an occasional largess, and here and there we had lighted upon something of an oasis; but latterly in places upon which we had set our hopes we had found nothing. and here we were leaving even the sparsely cultivated shores of the lake palti, climbing into the barren mountains, and then descending into the unknown. but, as that eventful summit was reached, what a view met our gaze! beyond us a deep gully sloped down to a valley four thousand feet below. the descent for the first two thousand feet would be over bare bleak hillside: after that we would descend across the wood-line, below which firewood, at any rate (an article for which, in certain altitudes, yak-dung had often been substituted), would be found in plenty. and below that belt of forest, and on either side of a broad river, we saw thick green crops that meant grazing galore, and here and there among the crops large prosperous-looking villages, or stately monasteries that should assuredly be well stocked with grain and tsampa and other delights. one thought of moses when he caught his first glimpse of the promised land! our only fear was of the tibetan army fleeing in front of us--whether they might not have looted this valley also, and frightened the inhabitants into hiding all their stores. but the valley was so large and prosperous-looking that it seemed certain that their depredations could not have affected the whole of it. so we went down the hill with glad hearts. the first two villages we passed, as we entered the main valley, were empty, and for a moment we were afraid again; but a mile further on we came upon a large village--that of kamba baji--which on inspection proved a veritable mine of wealth. we camped for that night beside it, and spent the afternoon probing its resources. the kazi (or headman) of kamba baji was our friend from the first. he gave us all he had, taking our coin in exchange in the spirit in which it was offered. he owned a great deal of land up and down the valley, and that land and its products both then and afterwards, he placed ungrudgingly at our service, even though the rupees which he received in exchange, albeit generous payment, hardly compensated him for the annoyance which, as a substantial country gentleman, he must have felt at our unwarrantable intrusion upon his property. our relations remained cordial ever afterwards. his house lay on the road which the escort to the post always took between chaksam and pete-jong. for that escort, as they rode up, two elderly handmaidens of the kazi's household were ever found waiting with brimful jugs of new milk in their arms, with which to refresh the travellers. chapter xvii the crossing of the tsangpo: a sad accident the following day we marched down the tsangpo or brahmaputra to chaksam ferry. a small column of mounted infantry had ridden ahead of us and captured the local flotilla, which consisted of two large rectangular ferry boats, capable each of holding about twenty mules, a hundred men, or two hundred maunds of stores. each boat was decorated with a roughly carved figure-head representing a horse. one horse had lost one of its ears, which rather detracted from its otherwise imposing appearance. the party that had preceded us to capture the ferry had also, by the time the main column arrived, penetrated the monastery which overlooked the river, made friends with the monks, and engaged the services of the local ferrymen, who all belonged to the monastery. the monks also placed at our disposal several skin boats. these were curious craft. they resembled the welsh coracle in shape, being quite square, but were a great deal larger, and capable of holding several people at a time. they consisted merely of skins stretched over thin stays of wood, were very light, and drew very little water. a man rowed them from one end, sitting on the gunwale, any old bit of rope being used in place of rowlocks to attach the rough peel-shaped oars to the sides of the boat. sometimes two boats were tied together to make one, in which case one boatman would row at one end of the now oblong craft, while another, sitting opposite him and facing him on the gunwale at the far end, would assist by 'backing water.' progress was slow in any case. we had brought with us several 'berthon' boats, which, consisting as they did only of canvas stretched on to a wooden framework, and being divisible into two halves, had been carried along on the backs of coolies without much difficulty. we had with us also a useful gang of attock boatmen, men who knew how to circumvent the eddies and currents of the indus in its upper reaches, and who did not fail us on the tsangpo. with the two large ferry boats, the skin boats, the berthon boats, the attock boatmen, and the contingent of tibetan boatmen from the monastery, all ready to hand, it was possible to begin the crossing of the river without a moment's delay. meanwhile, in order to reduce the number of mules that would otherwise be largely monopolising the large ferry boats, it was decided to swim some mules across--a work which was taken in hand at once. at the same time the sappers, who in the field-park had brought up various appliances for facilitating ferry work, made haste to set hawsers, 'travellers,' and wires in position for immediate use. as soon as these contrivances were in working order, which was not long, the crossing proceeded at a pace which exceeded our expectations. but, before the crossing had well begun, the saddest event of the tibet expedition had occurred. we had lost a good many men in action on various occasions, and a few officers. in the preceding winter there had been deaths more or less frequent from such ills as flesh is heir to. but to fall in action is a special contingency which all soldiers have to face, and to die by disease is the usual lot of mankind. at the loss of comrades in these ways we grieve, but do not grieve with any amazement. far different from this normal grief was our feeling when we heard that some sepoys, and with them major bretherton, our chief supply and transport officer, had, while crossing the river, been caught by one of several eddies formed by the sharp jutting out of a certain rocky headland into midstream, been capsized, sucked down by the eddies, and drowned. the gloom that was cast was, as i have said, greater than that cast by the loss of comrades in action. the ill luck in the case of major bretherton seemed cruel. a moment before we had seen him full of health, cheery and active, confident of seeing in a few days a happy termination to the anxieties which in this march to lhassa, with necessarily slender commissariat, had been largely borne by himself. we had known him not only as decorated for past services, but as having, during these past few months, by his able and perpetual and unsparing work, ever daily enhanced a reputation that was already assured. thus here was one, full of life and ripe for honour, cut off in his prime. upon the kamba-là, a day ago, we had thought with a laugh of him as moses viewing the promised land, and now, as a lump came into the throat, the same thought recurred, but this time full of sadness, for lhassa, the promised land, to help us to reach which he had striven for nearly a year, was the land which he himself was not to see. his body was carried down the tsangpo, and we grieved at this, for we could not pay it the honour we desired. but why should we have grieved? for there, a pioneer always, who had ever gloried in exploring the confines of the indian empire, he had but followed his bent, pursuing the mysterious course of that river whose outlet still baffles us. * * * * * a melancholy sequel to the death of an officer on field service, whether occurring in this or in any other way, is the inevitable auction of his effects, for the conveyance of few of which to the base is transport likely to be available. a committee of adjustment assembles, and, after reserving only such articles as will be obviously acceptable to his relations as mementoes and can easily be carried, puts up the remainder to auction. to be auctioneer of the effects of a comrade is not an enviable post. i had to auction major bretherton's things, and found that the adoption of the correct, breezy, businesslike auctioneer's manner was up-hill work. a man so stamps his individuality on his belongings that often some well-worn familiar garment, as for instance the 'coat-warm british' with fur-lined collar that the officer had been used to wear on cold mornings, brings, as you hold it up to sale, many sad associations. and yet you must look round inquiringly, you must snatch on to the first bid, and appeal loudly for a higher. when the topmost bid is reached and no other is forthcoming, you must throw the coat to the buyer with a careless air and collect his rupees. the prices that different articles fetch at these auctions is often amazing. the demand of course depends on whether the force as a whole has grown short of the particular article now for sale, and whether it can or cannot be obtained by the individual through the post. beyond gyantse there was no regular parcels post, so that of many articles we were feeling a keen want. accordingly, a few sheets of note paper and a few envelopes held up in the hand as one enticing 'lot' would on that occasion fetch two rupees. at another similar auction i remember half-pounds of tobacco going for five rupees each, and one-rupee packets of 'three castles' cigarettes also for five rupees. chapter xviii the end of the crossing: the 'chit' in tibet the sappers and miners, the coolis, the boatmen, the various units employed on fatigue, and the mule drivers must have been heartily glad when the crossing was all over. we were leaving both yaks and donkeys behind here (to work with convoys between gyantse and chaksam), so that we did not have to accomplish the feat of embarking and disembarking these somewhat clumsy animals; but even so, the amount of labour that had been involved was immense. i am told that, at any rate in indian frontier warfare, there has hitherto been no instance of a force of this size crossing a river of this dimension without the aid of a pontoon bridge (the materials for which it would have been impossible on this occasion to carry with us). further, the actual breadth of the river gave no idea of the difficulty of crossing it. the swiftness of the current, the whirlpools, and the speed with which the river, fed as it was by mountain streams, rose and fell, constituted the main difficulties. further, in addition to the main channel which was the chief obstacle, there was a second channel beyond it, which, though not wide and sometimes fordable, constituted an additional delay to the crossing. as the last boatload crossed, the river was rising fast, and i am told that the amount of spare material left at the ends of the long rope, which was the main factor in swinging the large boats across without letting them drift down-stream, could be measured by the inch. another inch or so in the rise of the river, and a corresponding widening of the stream, would have left that rope all too short for the work it had to accomplish, and our crossing might have been indefinitely delayed, for afterwards the river still continued rising. we left the tsangpo fairly well stocked with provisions. during the march of forty-five miles to lhassa we were informed that we should come across all that we required. the road from north chaksam followed the course of the river for three miles; then, taking a sharp turn to the left, entered another wide valley watered by another river, the course of which we were to trace up-stream as far as lhassa. on the first day out of chaksam i had rather an amusing experience of the value set by a tibetan on a 'chit' written by a british officer. in this respect the tibetan out-herods herod. india is the land of the 'chit.' the word is an abbreviation of 'chitthi,' a letter, and in its shortened form is specially applied to a certificate of good character given to a servant or to any pass in guarantee of respectability on any simple recognition of services rendered. a native barber in india who has cut your hair three times will ask for a 'chit' as a guarantee that he has done so. but the tibetan, whether sophisticated lama or simple peasant, was even more susceptible to the charms of a 'chit,' those charms of course possessing for him something of the mystical, since he never understood its contents. any 'chit' was apparently regarded as a sort of talisman, and was displayed by the owner with pride and confidence to every one, especially the next british officer who came his way. on that day i was sent ahead with the advance guard to see what supplies each village contained. i had no transport with me nor means of collecting the supplies, and through an oversight had taken no one with me to send back with messages to the rear as to the result of my discoveries in each village. there was no use in telling a villager to point out to the officer who would come after me what stores i had unearthed; for the villagers, though well paid, would always evade supplying stores if possible. the only expedient left was to make use of those charms which were possessed by the 'chit.' in the first village i found fifty maunds of tsampa; so, solemnly taking out my pocket book, i wrote on a leaf of it 'fifty maunds of tsampa in a top-room of the house with the big red door,' and, tearing this out of the book, presented it with grave dignity to the owner of the house. at the next villages i acted similarly. some hours after i reached camp the officer in charge of the transport that had been detailed for foraging reached camp in due possession of my fifty maunds of tsampa and all the other articles that i had enumerated in the subsequent chits. it had turned out exactly as i had hoped. that officer had entered the various villages in turn, and the proud possessors of the chits, innocent of their real purport, had come up to him and presented them with childlike simplicity for him to read, and of course they had given him just the information which they did not want to give him, but which he required, and which i had had no other means of conveying to him. it was playing it rather low down perhaps, but, after all, we wanted the supplies. chapter xix monasteries: foraging in monasteries: a dream there were at least two fair-sized monasteries which during the next few days we visited to obtain supplies. monasteries seem to vary in character as they vary in size. buddhism seems, in fact, to have left its mark upon tibet in the manner of some great flood. here on a lone hilltop stands a tiny monastery stagnant, like some small pool left by the flood, the monks few in number, their persons sordid, their minds vacant, and what remains of their religion stale or even polluted; while elsewhere in larger monasteries religion is clearer and more vital, and life less stagnant. this is a pure generalisation, and doubtless men, holy after their lights, often live in remote hovels, and in the chiefer centres religion may often be dreamy or callous, and sordid vices be not unknown. but perhaps, merely as a generalisation, the above may hold good. a foraging visit to a monastery was often marked by several phases, in which the relations between visitor and visited underwent considerable change. the officer in charge of the foraging party would ride up to the monastery with his escort. they would have been seen coming, and after a few signs of hurrying and preparation and the fluttering of several red monastic skirts in the breeze, a small select deputation of monks would descend from the main building to meet the intruders. this deputation would first and foremost bring with it a white muslin rag as an emblem of peace. along with the rag would be carried peace-offerings, of which the most common would be a tray of whole-wheat parched and salted, or a small basket of eggs, which, on nearer acquaintance later in the day, would usually be found to be neither new-laid nor fresh, but simply 'eggs.' with the aid of an interpreter a pleasant conversation would ensue. the officer would then probably produce his hand-camera and snapshot the head lama, after which he would try to get to business. he would ask how much of such and such article the monastery could sell us. the monks would shake their heads, flutter their skirts, jerk up their thumbs, and in a shrill falsetto repeat the word 'menduk' (which means 'nothing'). after a little more parley they would confess to having, say, twenty bagfuls of tsampa or whatever was required. even the naming of a high rate and the jingling of a bag of rupees in their faces would not make them raise the above figure. you would then, if you were the officer, proceed within the monastery and demand to be shown the said twenty bagfuls. you would be led with great pomp and circumstance upstairs and along dark passages and past rows of cells till you were ushered into a small pantry or storeroom, where, with a gesture of pompous satisfaction at having so completely fulfilled your requirements, the head monk would point to a few handfuls of tsampa lying at the bottom of a small elongated wooden trough. you would feel a little annoyance at this, and show signs of it. the head monk, as by a happy inspiration, would suddenly beckon you to accompany him, and, after another long meandering through the monastery, would lead you to a large doorway into a large darkened hall, which, when your eyes became accustomed to the dim light, you would recognise as the main 'gompa' or temple of the monastery. here his hand would steal into yours, which he would caress, while with his free hand he pointed to the chief image of buddha, which he was apparently wishing you to admire. of course you admired him, but you wanted tsampa, and this was obviously merely a ruse to detain you from your quest. british choler would then rise, and, going out of the temple with somewhat irreverent haste, you would begin to express yourself forcibly in terms which you made the interpreter translate. the interpreter had probably an axe of his own to grind, and it was doubtful how many of your trenchant phrases, even if fit to repeat in a monastery, got actually translated. but after a great show of meaning business, and a few threats of stronger measures in the background, you probably got, say, fifty maunds of tsampa from a proper storeroom which the lamas had previously refrained from showing you. a little later a few more threats and the threatening crack of a whip round the head of a 'chela' or two would send the monks all skipping about in trepidation, and the door of the main storeroom would be opened to you, in which you would find, it might be, two hundred maunds (or three days' supply for the force) of the desired article. after this you were all friends. no ill-will was borne on either side. the junior monks or 'chelas' would assist in bagging the flour, and in carrying it down to the place where the mules were waiting for it. the money would be doled out and counted with the greatest good humour, there would be another proffer of parched wheat and rotten eggs, and you would depart with the head lama's blessing. after one such visit i dreamed a dream. i knocked in a boisterous swash-buckling manner at tom gate, the main gate of my old college--christ church. behind me, stretching up st. aldate's to carfax, were a string of pack mules, fitted with empty bags, forage nets, and loading ropes. the gate was opened by those of the porters whom i knew years ago. one, an old soldier, saluted me. then it occurred to me that i was a japanese officer, and that in the year the japanese army were invading england. i was at the head of a foraging party, and we had come to loot the house. we had a fine time. we started of course by ringing up the dean. he too blessed me, and when i asked him for some of that old burgundy that i know was a speciality of the senior common-room cellar, he showed me round the cathedral and pointed out the restored shrine of st. frideswide. this was not what i wanted, and i told him so. i brought the mules in from outside, and set them to graze on the neat plots of turf that encircle 'mercury' the fountain, and told him they must all go away laden with the good things of the christ church larder and cellar, at which he protested. some undergraduates emerged in cap and gown from a lecture room and began to show fight. we drove them into peckwater at the point of the bayonet. then the steward and the junior censor appeared, and the latter began to reason with us in what i considered a tone unbecoming to a private person resident in an invaded country. i raised a heavy knout which i carried, and was going to flog the junior censor where he stood, when the steward intervened, and, giving hurried orders to all the scouts and porters that stood around watching the scene, soon produced the finest store of provisions that we had met with in all our campaigning. the mules were marched out of tom gate, up st. aldate's, along the corn and out to port meadow, where we were encamped, laden with sirloins of beef, with turkeys, with geese and ducks and fowls and pheasants, with beer in the barrel and port wine in the case, while i remember taking special personal possession of a mould of 'aspic of larks' which i fancied for my supper. but then i woke, and by doing so felt done out of that aspic of larks, which would have been a pleasant change from the fare of those days. quite a silly dream of course; but on recalling it with my waking thoughts, and feeling sympathy for the dean and students of christ church, i felt some too for those poor lamas whom we had invaded the day before. chapter xx reaching lhassa: supplies: messing: the lhassa bazaar the mode of our arrival in the environs of lhassa was something of an anti-climax. we had marched four hundred miles, fought a few fights, and provided ourselves throughout our journey with the necessaries of life, much against the will of the enemy, and here we were at lhassa, where an exciting climax to our march, such as a good fight in the lhassa plain, would have been highly artistic. here stood the debun monastery, and there further on the sara monastery, full of monks who at that time hated us. a few good shells in those monasteries would have set the monks buzzing in consternation like swarming bees disturbed. there glistened in the sun the gilded roof of the chief astrologer's house, that would have made grand loot and have looked so well in the british museum. there ahead of us rose majestically on its conical hill the potá-là, that _pièce de résistance_ which would have really taxed our efforts, and by its side on a similar hill the medical college, challenging us by its proud eminence to seize it. but such wild schemes were not to be realised. these ways were not our ways. we marched quietly into a swampy camp, sat down, and began to negotiate. those that negotiated were busy men, for the amount of talking that the representatives of the tibetan government got through, and that needed listening to, before anything was settled, must have been immense. the rest of us were not often very busy. 'those also serve who only stand and wait' was our motto. there was reluctance at first on the part of the monasteries to sell us supplies, but this was shortly overcome. we had for one day to feed the natives of the force on peas soaked overnight in water as a substitute for tsampa, while waiting for supplies to come in; but from the time when the latter began to do so till we left lhassa we felt no pinch. the large monasteries were our chief purveyors, but besides these the chinese community of lhassa comprised certain considerable merchants who at the instigation of the amban placed their wares at our disposal from the very first. a chinese market was a great boon to us, for the chinaman, especially if at all influenced by other civilisations, has ideas on dietetics more nearly approximating to both those of the british and of the native of india than do the tibetan's ideas. to the ordinary tibetan the sucking of mouthfuls of tsampa at irregular intervals from a dirty leather bag which he hangs from his neck represents an adequate idea of diet. the monks and richer laymen of course do themselves better; but such dainties as they indulge in did not appeal to our palates, nor to those of indian natives. their butter, for instance, which at times both british and native had to make use of, had always a special flavour of its own--a flavour which in an indefinable way suggests tibet and its many associations, being allied to a blend of such smells as that of tibetan fuel, of joss-stick incense, and of temple floors smeared with grease. few europeans and fewer natives could eat tibetan butter with relish. the chinaman, on the other hand, provided us with flour sufficiently fine to bake with, with white and brown sugar, with that solidified form of molasses called 'goor,' and with dried fruits. latterly we had often had to mix tsampa with flour to eke out our stock of the latter when baking bread for british troops. the result, though not unwholesome, was of a deep brown colour, and hardly palatable. if once cut into overnight, a tsampa loaf would have subsided into something very stodgy by morning, though, if all consumed at a sitting, it would not be found so heavy. during the latter part of our march we had run out of most of such delicacies as a supply column usually carries, and, as i have already mentioned, no arrangement could be made to bring up the loads and loads of parcels which were now accumulating at gyantse for most individuals and messes belonging to the column. in those days, in our attitude towards food, we reverted very much to the proverbial school-boy. we were frankly greedy in thought, word, and deed. the most favourite of interesting conversations was to discuss the ideal menu at a first-rate london restaurant. but sometimes these imaginings grew too painful. i remember well a case of two officers at noon on a comparatively hot day, sitting by the wayside at a halt. 'ah,' said one, 'what i should really like now would be a large tumblerful of good iced hock-cup.' these idle words touched a tender spot in the other officer, to whom hock-cup happened to be the beau-ideal of drinks. 'shut up!' the latter answered angrily, a fierce light in his eye; 'if you mention hock-cup again, i'll break your head!' jam, as we marched to lhassa, though not a necessity, was our primary desideratum. with long days in the open air and also with considerable fatigue to undergo, you craved for the sustenance of sweet things. till sugar also began to run short, we used to make treacle from it. like the school-boy, we, as a rule, thought little of alcohol. just as water at that altitude boils at a low temperature, so did it need only a little fiery spirit to give the desired tingle to the blood. most messes had soon run out of whiskey, and rum in small quantities from the supply column took its place. i am inclined to think that, delightful as messing in a large mess is, something is lost by having no personal share in your own catering. a mess president, of course, especially on service, has a vast weight upon his shoulders. he has to foresee the wants of many hungry mouths months ahead, and fit them in to a scanty allowance of transport. but his function is of a special kind. the ordinary member of a mess simply eats what is put before him, notes whether it is good, bad, or indifferent, and thinks no more about it. on the other hand, if, with the aid of a purely experimental cook, you run your own messing, quite a new vista of energy is at once opened out to you. it becomes intensely interesting. you become very greedy, of course, and a good dinner becomes the mark of a successful day, and a bad dinner that of an unsuccessful one; but even so the arts of catering and of the supervision of cooking, when practised in difficulties, are not in themselves sordid, but demand skill and forethought of a high order. one wants company of course. i messed on the method of mr. and mrs. jack spratt with another officer. he was of the lean, i the fat kind. he breakfasted at eleven, or (if on the march) when he reached camp. i ate a huge breakfast the moment i was out of bed, and ran to a lunch later, which my messmate scorned. so, after all, we only met at dinner, but then that is the only meal at which company is a necessity. he dined usually on curry and rice, which i have always disliked, while i had roast meat served up to me in chunks on a dish, much as my dog gets it at home. thus we got all the mutual advantages of each other's company when that was desirable, without the effort of subscribing to each other's tastes. we found it a most workmanlike arrangement. when, on reaching lhassa, we had ample leisure, we began to grow fastidious, and to insist upon our cooks enlarging the culinary horizon. a little harsh treatment soon taught the youth who fed me to turn out a passable omelette, and a little more coercion resulted in quite eatable rissoles. in the end, when he came to take orders for dinner, he would rattle off a string of high-sounding dishes with french names, which would have really made a fine feast, if served otherwise than on enamelled iron plates, set upon a table cloth of advertisement sheets from a stale newspaper. once i had a comrade to lunch on a sunny day, and, thinking to do him well, produced somewhere from the bottom of my kit a long disused but spotless bed sheet, and made use of this as a table cloth. my friend asked for its removal before the second course, complaining of incipient snow-blindness. when i got to india and to polite society, and began wiping my mouth with a table napkin, i discovered that on the first few occasions the napkin used to come away in my pocket. of course, on making use of it, one thought subconsciously that it was one's handkerchief, and so tucked it away as such. tobacco, without a parcels post to bring it to us, became very scarce. the sahib missed his pipe or cheroot, and the native his 'hubble-bubble,' and both alike took to the 'pedro' cigarette, the produce of an enterprising firm whose custom extended to lhassa. vendors of pedros had followed us on the march, and, apart from this, the lhassa bazaar abounded in the article, getting it, i suppose, through china or by the trade route that lies through nepal. by a rough estimate it would appear that for two months at least four thousand souls smoked an average of ten pedros daily. the rate grew very much enhanced with the constant demand, and i know of one needy officer who, in view of the fortune thus doubtless made by the firm, has announced his intention of going head-down for home and offering his hand and heart to miss pedro, if he finds such a person existing. shopping in the camp bazaar was the ladylike way in which we often spent our mornings. we had only been in camp at lhassa for twenty-four hours, when a bazaar was formed just outside camp by tibetan, chinese, and nepali traders. it needed a little supervision to prevent disputes and disorder, but the provost-marshal quickly had it in hand. an attempt to fix rates for various more necessary articles was not wholly successful, human nature on the buyer's part crying out for the article at all cost, and human nature on the seller's seizing an easy chance of profit. there were vegetables in that bazaar and sticks of wild rhubarb. there was 'ata,' in small quantities, which the sepoy would buy greedily as a change from his tsampa. there were packets of white loaf sugar fetching exorbitant prices, and thick chinese candles with bits of stick for wicks. later on, when we had moved from our first camp to that which we occupied for the greater part of the time, the bazaar developed. the vendors by that time had discovered our childish mania for curios, and brought with them each morning such trinkets as would attract our fancy. skins of all kinds would be brought for sale; the skins of very young lambs, almost as curly as real astrakan, which, made up together in winter linings for lamas' robes, seemed equally adaptable to the opera cloaks of our sisters and cousins and aunts at home; skins too of the lynx, the marmot, the wolf, and the snow fox. and women would come wearing heavy earrings set with turquoises and 'charm boxes' similarly set, which they wore as lockets at the neck. they would take these off to sell to you and haggle, like the veritable eastern traders that they were, with you for the price. besides the tibetan or chinese candle, we also found imported candles of european manufacture. but most imports for household use appeared to be japanese, as, for instance, soap and matches; neither of these were of good quality, and japan does not seem to take pains to appear at her best in the lhassa market. but to get a new cake of soap, even if it did crumble away quickly, was a luxury, and the return to a land of matches was a great relief. i remember an officer who on the march had latterly possessed himself of a tibetan flint and steel and learnt to light a cigarette with them. there are just about half a dozen prime necessities of no great bulk which always seem to run out sooner than expected on field service. a reserve in a supply column of the following would always come in useful: of matches, three mule loads; of wax candles, seven mule loads; of soap, ten mule loads; of some strong forbidding kind of tobacco that in times of privation would go a very long way, ten mule loads; of chocolate creams and barley sugar, thirty mule loads. sixty such mules laid out per brigade would be much blessed. when relations with the tibetans had become less strained, we used to go in organised parties to visit the bazaar in lhassa city itself. these parties reminded one of a sunday-school treat. the part of curate would be played by some field-officer who would collect his school children outside camp. these would consist of those officers, soldiers, sepoys, and followers whose turn it was to go. he would conduct us with careful supervision from the camp to the city, and there let us loose for two hours to play in the bazaar. the bazaar was one circular street, surrounding the cathedral which, though once or twice entered by favoured individuals, was out of bounds for us. in the city the same kinds of things were for sale as were brought to the camp bazaar, but there was a larger variety of imported goods. how some of those things ever got to lhassa was a mystery. in one shop i saw a whole row of small looking-glasses 'made in austria,' and beside them a score or so of penknives 'made in germany.' the british tradesman's pictorial almanac will, i suppose, be found hanging on the gates of the new jerusalem; it had certainly penetrated lhassa, usually in the form of a royal family group. one coronation group on the wall of a kashmiri shop was especially fine. strangest of all to find was a bicycle of the rover pattern--quite out of gear, but doubtless interesting to the tibetan as a western curio. he may have thought it was a species of christian prayer-wheel. i was short of dinner plates, and bought one. it was of tin, and had stamped on it a comprehensive lesson in both political and physical geography. all round the rim faces of clocks were stamped. each face was encircled with a scroll containing the name and the number of the population of some large city of the world, while the clock in the centre showed what the time was in that city when the clock in london stood at twelve noon. the population of london as stamped on the plate stood at quite a low figure, but london was selected as the honoured city whose clock should stand at the precise hour of noon, and the whole geography lesson was in english. one would therefore come to the conclusion that the plate was a british product, dating back to the period of some not very recent census. to have traced that plate from birmingham to lhassa would have been interesting. beggars swarmed in the bazaar. one man earned an obviously ample livelihood by carrying his grandfather on his back through the streets. the grandfather was certainly the quintessence of decrepitude, and as such would appeal to the benevolent, who apparently never thought of suggesting to the young man that it would be better to leave grandfather at home in bed, and go out unencumbered to earn an honest living. malefactors in chains are also seen crawling about, a peripatetic prison being apparently less felt by the lhassa exchequer than one of bricks and mortar. chapter xxi enough of lhassa: a trip down country: life in a post: true hospitality: a bhutya pony since i reached india, i have been told that every moment i spent in the romantic environs of lhassa must have been intensely interesting, and that to have been to lhassa is the envy of the world. i suppose, like the brute one is, one got _blasé_ and indifferent to one's good fortune, but it is certain that those 'crowded hours of glorious life' began to pall. we did the best we could to while away the time. an energetic race committee provided gymkhanas and a 'sky meeting' (just, says the intelligent foreigner, what a british army _would_ indulge in, on arrival at such a place). a football tournament followed. football at thirteen thousand feet is like playing the game at an ordinary level--with an eighty-pound load on your back. less strain on the lungs was a rifle meeting. to escort our military or political betters to the city on a state visit was another mild form of entertainment. the chinese amban often received such visits. the ordinary officer who formed part of the escort did not take part in the actual visit. he stayed outside on the doorsteps. sometimes he was known to go into the amban's kitchen, where an elderly matron gave him a cup of tea. luckily, though it rained generally once in the twenty-four hours, it did so mostly at night, so that we were seldom confined to our tents in the daytime. even so, we felt rather like prisoners. going out beyond the vicinity of the camp meant going out armed, and proceeding to any distance meant being accompanied by an escort, such precautions having been specially indicated by the attack made on two officers by a certain fanatical lama. it is not surprising that the life we led left many gaps which it was hard to fill. i was glad when one day i got orders to go on a ten days' trip down the line as far as pete-jong and back. these ten days initiated me into the life of those portions of the force who had been left to man posts on the line of communications. the native soldier soon makes himself very much at home in his post. he has deeply regretted not going to the front, but with a useful belief in 'kismet' makes the best of things. the relief from marching and the ample leisure to cook food are redeeming features. the post-commandant, if the only british officer on the spot, feels his circumstances more acutely. not only does he grieve at being left behind, but since in ordinary times no life is more social than that of a british officer, he at first feels his loneliness greatly. he may love his men, he may be--in the wording of that common hindustani metaphor--veritably their 'father and mother,' but still he cannot go to them for company. he can exchange few ideas with them, and as regards social intercourse, he is almost as much alone as if he were on a desert island. if, however, by any chance there are two officers together in one post, they should enjoy themselves. for though ordinary regimental life is, as i said above, the most social in the world, it yet also suffers from the disabilities of its own sociability. in a regimental mess you know twenty men well, and may go on knowing them so for twenty years, but perhaps you will never know any one of them really intimately. to share a post on the line of communications with one other officer for a few months should result in an intimacy. that is almost a new military experience. if a post-commandant had shooting or fishing within reach of his post, he usually, even though alone, soon found life bearable. sometimes foraging to collect a reserve of rations for the march down was his only recreation, and this soon palled. he was not necessarily always alone, for the traffic up and down the line was sometimes brisk, and he would perhaps once or twice in a week be invaded by some officer who was travelling up or down with the post or with a convoy. it was my lot to be often such an invader, and for sheer genuine hospitality commend me to the officers in charge of the posts on the sikkim-tibet line of communications. it shames me to think of the way they have entertained me, and of my utter inability to return their hospitality. may i have a chance some time! i had to go down to chaksam with the mounted infantry postal escort which travelled the whole distance in one day, going as light as possible, my syce on one mule, my bedding on a second, and a mule driver on a third, and without either cook or orderly. it was a case of 'sponging' wherever i went, for i knew those kind hosts down the line would forbid me to live off bully-beef and biscuits. looking over my belongings before i left, i found a tinned oxtongue, which by an oversight had remained unregarded and uneaten somewhere at the bottom of a kit bag for many months. a convoy too had just come in, and from it i seized one of a few pots of jam. thus armed i visited chaksam and pete-jong. these two articles were all that i could proffer in return for hospitality, but both under present conditions were dainty rarities, and, my hosts assured me, quite paid for my keep. at chaksam, where the tongue was left, and where there was a doctor as well as a post-commandant, i was afterwards informed that the doctor, as soon as i was gone, promptly found the post-commandant suffering from acute enteritis, so put him on to milk diet and wolfed all the tongue himself! the postal service from gyantse to lhassa was performed by mounted infantry, each garrison _en route_ containing a detachment of mounted infantrymen, who took the post from stage to stage. the stages were pretty far apart. the first was from gyantse to ralung, over thirty miles; the second over the karo-là to nagartse, a distance of nearly thirty; the third from nagartse to pete-jong, eighteen miles; the fourth from pete-jong to chaksam, thirty-two; and the fifth and last from chaksam to lhassa, about forty-five. the work thus done by the mounted infantry between lhassa and gyantse was considerable. a fairly hefty sepoy, carrying rifle and accoutrements and a few mail bags, is no mean weight to put on the back of a thirteen-hand pony, even for a short distance, and it is surprising how well the ponies, some of them ordinary country-breds from the plains of india, stood those long marches. keeping them shod was a considerable difficulty, for the combination of damp weather and stony roads knocked the shoes off very quickly, and the stock of the latter was limited. having done my work at chaksam and pete-jong, i returned to the former place with the post, prepared to proceed to lhassa the next day; but it had been raining in torrents for some days past, and, though mail bags and the like could be taken across the river in skin boats, there was no chance of taking my pony and mules across till the flood subsided. after three days it was found possible to take the animals over at parte (the crossing which the column subsequently used on the march down), ten miles up the river, and the following day i was able to reach lhassa with the upward post. i shall not easily forget that day. it has been made memorable to me by the vagaries of a certain bhutya pony ridden by an officer who was accompanying me. to get one's kit and oneself over forty-five miles of indifferent roadway in one day, especially when you have no change of mount, involves early rising. we got up at four o'clock, after sleeping in the domestic temple of a tibetan farm-house on a sacred but not very clean floor. we sent our kit on ahead, and also my syce, who was mounted on a mule, in charge of part of the mounted infantry postmen. the remainder of the latter accompanied our two selves a little later. my companion had not ridden his pony for some time, and the latter, disliking the process of being mounted, began by suddenly sidling away when his master was only half on his back, with the result that his master came off and tumbled to the ground, still keeping hold of the reins. the pony, anxious to be free, danced a jig on his master's stomach. luckily, being of a hard-footed hill-breed, his feet were not shod, so that no serious injury resulted, as would have been the case if the trampling had been done in iron shoes. at length the pony broke away from the reins and scampered off, leaving his rider to recover the breath that had been squeezed out of his body and to pick himself up. this was an awkward beginning to the day's march, but, finding no bones broken, and the pony having, for the occasion, allowed himself to be caught, my friend mounted, successfully this time, and we proceeded on our way. after some miles we overtook and passed the other party, and pushed on till, finding we had gone twenty miles from chaksam, were in a pleasant spot suitable for resting in, and were uncommonly hungry, we dismounted, took our ponies' bridles off, tied the animals up, gave them their grain, and set to work upon our own sandwiches. we rested an hour, and, thinking our surroundings too pleasant to leave abruptly, we decided on another half-hour's rest. just as we had done so, and were looking forward to a spell of peaceful contemplation of romantic scenery, as seen through the beautifying haze of tobacco-smoke, one of us noticed that the bhutya was fidgeting with his head rope. he was on the edge of a field of green peas that were tickling his fancy. as we looked, by some device known only, i should think, to bhutya ponies, he slipped the neck rope over one ear. before we could get at him he had slipped it over the other and was free. the only man who had ever been known to catch the pony when he was free was his own syce, whom his master had left at chaksam. here we were twenty miles from chaksam and twenty-five from lhassa, and my friend with many bruises on his body already contracted that morning, and a sore hip that, though not preventing him riding, yet hurt him every time that he tried to walk. the party that we had overtaken now came up, and, after sending on most of the escort so as not to detain his majesty's mails, we proceeded to try all the dodges known to us of catching a refractory pony. i suppose, if we had been cowboys trained to use the lasso, we should have had no trouble. as it was, we experienced much. a feeding-bag full of grain held out coaxingly at arm's length made the pony laugh. i tried him with a bit of commissariat biscuit, at which--as is often the way of people--he snorted. i tried stalking him from behind my own pony, and got fairly near him, only to find his two heels perilously near our two heads. we laid a grand snare, in the shape of two mule loading ropes joined together, and stretched across a tempting patch of the green-pea field, where not a trace of the rope could be seen, while the men at each end of the rope lounged peacefully and innocently with reassuring looks upon their faces which we thought would not prevent the pony being quietly urged into the space between them. this ruse nearly succeeded. the pony stalked along, grazing as he went, till his feet were against the rope, at which the men holding it, after raising it a little, tried to run to the rear and so encircle the pony. but before they had gone far he was kicking and tugging with his chest against the rope, and in a moment had wrenched it out of the hands of one of the men, and the next minute, after a series of derisive buckjumps, was in the next field munching young wheat. after fifty minutes of fruitless manoeuvring we decided on a new plan. half a mile further on, the road left the open space where we now were, and, running close to the side of the river, was flanked on the other side by almost precipitous rocks. the road here, therefore, formed a perfect defile, and we decided to proceed on our way, ignoring the bhutya and trusting to his gregarious instinct and a little wholesome neglect on our part to induce him to follow us of his own initiative. we moved off in a body--mules, ponies, and men. the bhutya, tired of green peas and young wheat, looked after us and followed us at a gentle trot. we left my syce in ambush just outside the defile, but this proved unnecessary; for the pony, now quite anxious about being left behind, pushed his way in ahead of the last mounted infantryman, so that at last we had him in a trap. but to catch hold of him, now that he was in the trap, still taxed our efforts. a mounted infantryman grabbed him once by the forelock, and nearly got wrenched off his own pony by doing so, while the bhutya leapt away, leaving in the man's hand enough of his own forelock to stuff a good pincushion. my syce had now come up. he was an elderly man, more intelligent in these matters than any of those present. he tempted the pony with bits of a tsampa chapatti that he drew from his pocket. the pony, forgetful of wheat and green peas, took to these. the syce in an instant had the reins of the bridle round the pony's neck, and would have held him fast had not he been lifted off his feet by the latter's rearing up. the pony was now free again and very indignant. rampaging about, he tried to find an exit through a batch of mules in one direction and a batch of mounted infantry in the other, but found himself baffled in both. he looked up the rocks and found them impossible to climb, looked at the river beneath him and seemed to contemplate taking a header, but thought better of it, and at last stood sullenly at bay. my syce's next proffer of his own wayside ration brought the pony to terms. a rope-twitch was round his lip in an instant, and a moment later he stood bridled and in his right mind. so on we hastened to lhassa at last, glad to have secured the pony, but now somewhat belated. at trelung bridge, eight miles out of lhassa, was a small garrison, guarding the bridge. the officer in command fed us with a sumptuous tea. much refreshed, we sped on our way, getting within sight of camp just as it was turning pitch dark, and having cause to realise the efficacy of our own camp defences by the way we floundered among ditches and abattis when barely twenty yards from the camp perimeter. there was a 'tommies' gaff' that night, outside the camp, around a roughly erected stage lit up with chinese candles and decked out with green brushwood that had previously been used to make the jumps at the last gymkhana. we assembled to hear the familiar types of songs that form the programme of a soldiers' sing-song--some witty, some rather vulgar, some modified with topical variations by local poets, and all full of good cheer. chapter xxii the signing of the treaty a day or two after--that is to say, on the seventh day of september --the treaty was signed. if our peaceful arrival at lhassa had been the anti-climax of the expedition, this--the signing of the treaty--though peaceful also, was its true climax. one certainly did have a feeling that day that one was witness of an event of imperial importance. the escort left camp at . p.m. over the assembling of the troops outside camp one of those typical--and to the onlooker highly entertaining--muddles arose, which are always either the fault of some one or no one or every one. eventually we found ourselves, all except a body of mounted infantry who were still unaccountably missing. their place was, however, adequately filled by a party of kot-duffadars of mule corps, who, mounted on transport riding ponies, and armed with swords and staves or whatever obsolete weapon is nowadays issued to them, took a prominent place in the procession and made a brave show. we marched past that pleasant country seat known as 'paradise,' where the political mission had their quarters, and proceeded along a path lined with troops, across a bog into the outskirts of the city, and up the road which leads up the potá-là hill into the potá-là. we had eventually to dismount, leave our ponies, and climb up a paved pathway, half staircase. this pathway was smeared with the holy grease of ages and was dangerously slippery. at the top we found some of the guard of the nepalese resident, looking very warlike in red secondhand tunics that had once been the property of british soldiers, but were of a now obsolete pattern. ushered through a dark passage, we entered at last into the throne-room or audience-hall of the potá-là, where the ceremony was to take place. when all that portion of the escort who were allowed within the hall had taken their places colonel younghusband and general macdonald with their respective staffs arrived. the room already held the various contingents of eastern officials of different nationalities who were to assist at the function. after we had all stood up, there was a great deal of handshaking between the representatives of east and west. the chinese amban shakes hands in a manner that, when last i frequented london drawing-rooms, was, i believe, considered fashionable. one of the lay council of tibet certainly thought so, for he tried to imitate the particular method, but only partially succeeded. the party then sat down to tea. a great deal of tea was drunk--that milkless tea in handleless china cups with which we had most of us now become acquainted. all sorts of chinese sweetmeats were provided with it, and these were followed by cigarettes (our old friend the 'pedro'). these dainties did not extend into the outer circles; those of us who were behind contented ourselves by lighting up our own pedros. a glance round the room showed many bright colours and striking contrasts. there, near to the throne, were our political officers in the rich but not gaudy uniform of their service; next them the g.o.c. and his staff in the sober khaki, while all round the room in less prominent places was more khaki. but next to colonel younghusband in robes of bright blue silk sat the amban. next to the amban was the regent, who, since the disappearance of the dalai lama, had been the officiating head of the tibetan government, an elderly man with a sad ascetic face, and dressed quite simply in the plain red robes of an ordinary lama. next to him was a row of chinese officials, of whose uniform, as in the case of the amban, bright blue silk formed the chief part. further away were the seats of the nepalese contingent, at the head of whom sat the nepali resident, a fierce-looking old man in a rather shabby and uncommonly short jacket of plum-coloured brocade lined with fur. alongside, but at a different angle and facing the throne, sat the tonsil penlop and his suite. these represented bhutan and were all clad in striped yellow silk robes, which one can only describe as barbaric. their millinery was also marvellous, the tonsil penlop himself wearing a kind of bonnet, on the top of which was perched a whole stuffed bird, which in the distance appeared to be a parrot. immediately opposite the throne were the tibetan lay council of three. they affected plain yellow silk and yellow hats, but the yellow was of a bright shade, and the general effect of their appearance was as magnificent as that of any of the others. in face they struck me as the least attractive of the various eastern officials present, being unhealthy-looking, rather fat, and wearing what seemed a sulky cowed expression. behind them stood a whole array of monks. the process of signing began almost at once. the number of documents seemed never ending. apparently there were several copies of the treaty in every language spoken by any of the parties directly or remotely concerned with it, and every one of these copies had to be signed, not only by the chief authorities above enumerated, but also by various lesser lights of tibet, as, for instance, the heads of certain monasteries. at one period the limelight flashed upon us, and we all had our photographs taken from a corner of the room. we saw many copies of the treaty being signed with great care, but gathered nothing of its contents except from the speech which, when at last the signing was over, colonel younghusband addressed to the tibetans in general, and to the 'council of three' in particular. the latter sat bobbing their heads deferentially at each sentence, and looking thoroughly ashamed while colonel younghusband addressed them from his chair. the speech was translated sentence by sentence into tibetan for tibetan benefit, and afterwards passed on in chinese to the amban. the speech was emphatically a 'straight talk,' the key-note seeming to be that the tibetans had been very foolish in opposing and flouting us in the past, but that they were now going to be good boys. they were going to be well treated when they came to visit us, and were not going to misbehave themselves in any way, should we again come near them. there was more said, about trade relations with india, in recognition of the chinese suzerainty, and in encouragement of the tibetan traditional methods of treating outsiders, when those outsiders did not happen to be ourselves. the council of three seemed to take it all 'lying down.' more tea was drunk: the press correspondents busied themselves with the telegrams that they were sending down by post to gyantse, bringing the wires there and then to the press censor, whose blue pencil i saw freely wielded: more handshaking, and then the party broke up. as we left the now close atmosphere of the audience hall, we felt that we had just witnessed a matinée performance in a theatre. the spectacular effects throughout had been impressive. the first act had been brisk, the second had dragged, but the last had been thrilling. it had indeed been a fine play that we had seen enacted--the simple sane perseverance of british diplomacy fighting on its own ground a unique section of the mysterious and gorgeous east, not bluffed by its indignant protests, not deceived by its spurious promises, not wearied by its endless delays, not impatient of its crass ignorance, but gaining its objects slowly and surely, and coming out victorious. chapter xxiii back to india thereafter, like the man in the sycamore tree, we made haste to come down. sixteen days later the column left lhassa. a few functions intervened, such as the formal release of our prisoners and the bestowal of money in charity on the poor of lhassa. i missed these functions, having been sent on ahead to the tsangpo, where preparations for the return crossing were now afoot. the column at length arrived at the river. we crossed this time at parte, where a certain single channel of moderate breadth, but very deep and therefore not very swift, served our purposes far better than the double channel at chaksam. the sappers and miners and coolis had made all things ready, towing the two heavy ferry boats up many miles of swift current, and rigging up the mysterious engineering paraphernalia which were needed to swing us across, our crossing hanging truly and literally by a thread--a thread of thin wire. wire, at once the lightest and strongest commodity of its kind, had since our last crossing been sent up to us, in great quantities, and was largely used to replace the now rotten rope that had previously been chiefly employed. a great ferry boat, bearing twenty mules, to which was attached a string of skin boats laden with stores, to which again were attached a brace or so of mules swimming in the water, would be swung across that still swift current, suspended from but one or two thin wires. the speed of the crossing exceeded all hopes. it was accomplished in about forty-eight hours. from south parte we marched, over a pass that was new to us, straight into pete-jong. at the top of that pass facing southwards we found a wall, which had obviously been built by the tibetans in the belief that on our march upwards we would cross the ridge by this route. it was a well-conceived fortification, and might have given us considerable trouble. from parte ferry to gyantse we marched in two columns. thinking the crossing of the ferry might occupy several days, and in order to be prepared for all emergencies such as any possible ebullitions of hostility that might delay our march, we had laid in at the ferry and the posts on the way to gyantse a stock of supplies which now proved larger than our needs, while our spare transport was only sufficient to carry on a portion of the surplus. i accompanied the second column and had the pleasant duty of making away with this surplus. to one whose purse has always been slender, and whose nature is correspondingly extravagant, there can be nothing more agreeable than to dispose in a free-handed way of large amounts of government property. one enjoys all the delights of extravagance with none of its bitter aftertaste. of course, even from the strictly economical view, it was far the best policy to make away with these surpluses where they stood. the total value of the stores so made away with, though amounting to a large sum, was far less than, for instance, would have been the cost of retaining the force in the country until they had consumed them. the british troops were all with this column, but there were several native units as well. one arrived at a post and found it full of many good things that could not be carried on. restrained only by fear of filling the troops to a tension beyond what the medical officers thought desirable, one accosted commanding officers, and asked with one's best shop-walker's manner what they would like to-day. a few hundredweight of jam and pickles would be doled out for the asking, or, in the case of native troops, similar quantities of tea and ghi and goor. the coolis were my best customers. the amount of tea and goor they took away and consumed with benefit to themselves was surprising. they worked all the better for it and marched into gyantse carrying record loads. the stores still left over at each place were solemnly presented to the local peasants who came up, and, regarding the affair as a huge joke, went away laden with bundles selected at random from, as it were, a huge bran-pie. rum was withheld from them, but i should have liked to see the effect of their consumption of some of the things they got, as, for instance, of an unsuspecting draught of neat lime-juice, or a mouthful of chillies. so on we marched over that stiff pass into pete-jong, along lake palti shining in this clear-set wintry weather with its true turquoise colours, past nagartse and up through the barren gorge that leads to the summit of the karo-là, down the karo-là regretfully, doubting whether we should ever reach such heights again, into the ralung plain, and down the long glen to gyantse. our appearance in those days was not spick and span. we were very much out at elbows, the breeches of both soldiers and followers were frequently patched with odd bits of tibetan woollen cloth, or even in some cases with bits of the gunny of gunny bags. i have known the red cloth of the typical lama's robe adapted to these purposes. with wear it turns into a cherry colour. my own orderly, who was fitted out with a complete pair of continuations of this cloth, looked in the distance like a trooper of the th hussars (the overalls of that regiment being famous for that colour). more curious still were the additions to the wardrobe in the shape of blankets and sentries' cloaks, which we brought from lhassa, the woollen goods of that town being warm and serviceable, but rather outlandish. the sentries' cloaks were merely oblong pieces of cloth with a hole in the centre, through which the sentry put his head, and of all sorts of colours--quite enough in themselves to frighten the nocturnal miscreant. but most curious sight of all, if one could have looked on from the outside, would have been the collection of dogs which we brought with us. the dog that tommy had left at home was of course the familiar type of square-jowled sturdy monster, who, by a process of natural selection and survival of the fittest, has been evolved out of many types, and now rules supreme in cantonment barracks. his master at lhassa had consoled himself with another sort, and it was a touching sight to see great bearded men sometimes leading, but as often as not carrying, on the march dainty little lap-dogs, of kinds that resembled the pomeranian, the skye terrier, or the king charles' spaniel. one or two tibetan mastiffs--more like huge welsh collies than mastiffs--also accompanied us. at gyantse we were halted for a few days, upon one of which the g.o.c. held his farewell parade, making us a sympathetic speech which will be remembered by all of us. then we marched past. my lot was to command a squad of veterans whose duties for years had been confined to the supply of the army. we got along somehow, more by innate intelligence than knowledge of drill, going through various giddy evolutions in no particular formation and by the shortest cut, and arriving at the saluting base aided only by the bump of locality. there of course we braced ourselves and marched past, and turned our eyes sharply to the right as though we had never left the barrack square. from gyantse onwards i was in the first column, and thus missed certain hardships. it was nice bracing weather. we had cool fine days, at night twenty degrees of frost and often biting cold winds that took the skin off the nose and chapped the lips and the lobes of the ear, but were on the whole salubrious. the same weather was with us all the way, up through kangma and the red idol gorge to kalatso, past dochen and into the tuna plain, over the tang-là, into phari and down through the gautsa glens, where the pine-forests smelt of indian hill stations, and into chumbi. as we reached chumbi the clouds were gathering. that night, with the outer fly of my tent taken out of store and erected over me, i went to bed secure in its extra protection, thinking casually that it might perhaps rain in the night. in the early morning i was woken with a crash, and felt a great weight squeezing my whole body, but leaving my head clear. striking a light i found the upright tent pole near my feet broken in two. looking through a corner of the tent i saw the ground all covered with snow, and realised that the weight on my body was the snow that had accumulated on the tent, broken the tent pole, and fallen upon me. it was six o'clock. my orderly and syce came to my rescue. they lifted the snow off me and took away my tent pole to a carpenter to get it mended, while in what space was still left within the tent i found i could still breathe, and so slept peacefully till in an hour my tent pole was brought back mended and the tent reconstructed, and i could get up in comfort. i had had a very mild experience. grief of a worse kind had been widespread through the night, many officers and men losing their only shelter irretrievably at two or three in the morning. the second column came in that afternoon rather worn and battered, and the third column--for from gyantse we had become three--was snowed up for two nights at phari after a terrible march over the tang-là from tuna. their eventual march into chumbi was also a severe ordeal. at chumbi it remained to await one's day of release. the snow delayed the passage of the troops hardly at all. leaving chumbi in small detachments and using both the jalap-là and natu-là routes, they gradually disappeared. at length my own turn came. leaving chumbi one fine morning, and finding myself again a passenger, i hastened by double marches to india across the natu-là down to gangtok, through sikkim, and into siliguri. strange it was to think, as, after that last hot double march from riang, one sat under the punkah in siliguri refreshment room, drinking tumbler after tumbler of iced ginger-beer, that three days before one had pulled icicles from one's beard on the top of the natu-là. pleasant to get into the darjiling mail that night and speed to calcutta; pleasant to feel oneself wrapped in the civilisation of the indian metropolis; pleasanter still to take train at howrah, and be carried up country to the crisp cool autumn of the panjab and to one's own fireside. so the show was over--all over but for its memories, which for my own part were mainly agreeable. as he lays those memories aside, the selfish soldier's wish can hardly be other than that on some convenient date in spring time not too many years distant, ere the person is too stout and the legs too stiff to relish those high passes, some truculent grand lama may necessitate and a kind government organise another summer trip to lhassa. printed by spottiswoode and co. ltd., 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'unquestionably the most striking book the war has produced. a masterly piece of work, a real contribution to historical writing.'--_sketch._ _thoroughly revised, enlarged, and completed edition._ nineteenth impression, completing over , copies printed. the great boer war. by a. conan doyle. with maps. large post vo. _s._ _ d._ _spectator._--'the conditions under which dr. conan doyle's animated and valuable record was written relieve it from the dangers of red-hot impressionism.... when to these opportunities are added that manly temper and command of forcible and picturesque language which have won him distinction in the field of fiction, it is not to be wondered at that the result should prove as engrossing as any of his novels.' _queen._--'whatever histories of the war in south africa are written, dr. conan doyle's "great boer war" must remain _the_ history.... the book is marvellously exciting, admirably lucid, and scrupulously just.' _westminster gazette._--'mr. conan doyle may be congratulated very heartily on having written, in the "great boer war," a book which will delight and interest a wide circle of readers. nowhere will the reader obtain a truer or more graphic picture of the warfare of the kopje and the veldt, nor of the difficulties which our generals had to overcome. the book is also a marvel of conciseness.' london: smith, elder, & co., waterloo place, s.w. a volunteer's experiences in the boer war. third impression. with a frontispiece. crown vo. s. in the ranks of the c.i.v.: a narrative and diary of personal experiences with the c.i.v. battery (hon. artillery company) in south africa. by 'driver' erskine childers, clerk in the house of commons. _pall mall gazette._--'if we began to quote from this unpretentiously vivid, brightly written, and in every way admirable record we should never stop. as a description of life on campaign it could scarcely be bettered.' _daily telegraph._--'a most interesting and at times a most picturesque diary.' _sketch._--'mr. childers writes with vigour and enthusiasm, and, what is better, appears to thoroughly understand what he is writing about.' _punch._--'a series of unpremeditated pictures of campaign life invaluable for their graphic touch.' london: smith, elder, & co., waterloo place, s.w. with portraits of piet de wet and of a group of convalescents. yeoman service: being the diary of the wife of an imperial yeomanry officer during the boer war. by the lady maud rolleston. large crown vo. _ s._ _ d._ _spectator._--'a very fascinating book.... we say to our readers without the slightest fear of misleading them--"get the book and read it."' _world._--'none of the multitudinous war books surpass this one in attraction--few approach it. the services rendered by the writer are well known; her experiences, recorded here in a simple and lucid form, are full of human interest, general and particular.' _athenæum._--'lady maud rolleston has written the best woman's book about the war. she does not show partiality ... indeed, appears to be gifted with unusual fairness.... on the whole we have nothing but praise for the book.' london: smith, elder, & co., waterloo place, s.w. transcriber's note: the following modifications have been made to the text. page : gods replaced with goods. dismantling a furnished house, packing and warehousing your household gods, paying your outstanding bills, page : missing period inserted after no. 'what-ho, bill!' said atkins no . page : period after foraging replaced with colon. at gyantse: fighting: foraging. tibetan religious art page : missin period inserted after common. soon grew quite common at every point page : peti-jong replaced with pete-jong. lake palti: drawing blank: peti-jong page : missing period inserted after troops. when baking bread for british troops the result, though not unwholesome, last advertisements page: period after elder replaced with comma. london: smith, elder, & co., waterloo place, s.w. transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). [illustration: iskardo. _from the south._ _pl. i._ j. w. del. w. l. walton, lithog. printed by hullmandel & walton.] western himalaya and tibet; a narrative of a journey through the mountains of northern india, during the years - . by thomas thomson, m.d., f.l.s., assistant surgeon bengal army. london: reeve and co., henrietta street, covent garden. . printed by john edward taylor, little queen street, lincoln's inn fields. preface. on the termination of my journey in tibet, i submitted to the indian government a detailed report of my observations in that country. it was my original intention to request the permission of the court of directors to publish this report in the form in which it was drawn up; but after my return to england, this plan was, at the suggestion of friends, abandoned for that now followed. at the time of my appointment to the tibet mission, my attention had not been specially directed to the himalaya, but i have since had many opportunities of studying that chain of mountains. my first definite impressions of himalayan geography were received from my fellow-travellers, major cunningham and captain henry strachey. the latter gentleman had just completed one of the most adventurous journeys ever made in the himalaya; and major cunningham's knowledge of the geography of northern india is so accurate and extensive, that the delay in the publication of his map, although caused by the devotion of his leisure time to other branches of research, is a subject of deep regret to all who know its value. more recently i have had the good fortune to travel in the eastern himalaya with dr. hooker, and it was a source of great gratification to me, when we met, to find that in studying these mountains at opposite extremities of the chain, the results at which we had arrived were almost identical. my botanical collections, which were very extensive, have as yet been only roughly assorted, and the names of plants given in the present work are chiefly derived from a careful comparison of specimens with the hookerian herbarium at kew,--a collection which, as is well known to botanists, both from its extent and from the liberality with which it is thrown open to students of that science, occupies in this country the place of a national collection. the heights of places given in the work have been derived from very various sources. those in the earlier part are chiefly from the extremely accurate observations of the gerards; for others i have to thank my fellow-travellers; but the greater number are calculated from my own observations of the boiling-point of water, and do not therefore pretend to great accuracy. still the thermometer which i used (by dollond) was a very good one, and comparisons with barometric observations, or with known heights, have given such results as satisfy me that at considerable elevations it may be depended upon to within three or four hundred feet as an extreme error. the orthography of oriental proper names is a question of great difficulty, and grave objections may be urged against any system which has been proposed. if each european nation represents the sound of the vowels and variable consonants after the mode which prevails in its own language, then proper names must be translated, as it were, when rendered from one of these languages into another; whereas, if the mode of spelling the names remain fixed, then the value of the letters must be different in the majority of the languages from that which usually prevails. for purely popular purposes the former method would probably be the most judicious; and the english language has peculiar facilities for rendering oriental sounds, in consequence of its possessing the open sound of _u_, as in _but_, which is wanting in other european languages, though so common in arabic, persian, and hindee, and all cognate tongues. a uniform mode of spelling, however, has so many advantages, that i have been induced to give it a preference; but it will be seen that in a few instances, where the popular mode of spelling has become familiar, and as it were a portion of the english language, as in the words punjab, jumna, sutlej, kussowlee, and a few others, i have not had courage to carry out the rule. for the plates which accompany the work i have to thank mr. winterbottom, who very kindly permitted me to select from a series of sketches those which i thought most suitable. this was not an easy task; but in the two views of the neighbourhood of iskardo i found so faithful a representation of the extremely rugged scenery of the tibetan mountains, contrasted with the level plain of iskardo, and the lacustrine strata of the neighbourhood, that no more desirable illustrations for a journey in tibet could be conceived. the little vignette, too, though it does not represent any part of the country through which i travelled, is precisely similar to many ravines in rondu, and serves to show that the gilgit valley is quite the same in general appearance with that district. i was more particularly desirous of introducing this sketch, from the very faithful representation it contains of the alluvial platforms which skirt the streams in every part of tibet. the map is founded principally upon mr. arrowsmith's large map, and his name is its best guarantee. the districts round the pangong lake are taken from a sketch given to me by captain h. strachey, and the whole of the eastern part has been revised by him. a great part of the course of the shayuk has been laid in by mr. arrowsmith from my own rough survey, while the little-known district between jamu and zanskar, which i was not competent to survey, has been rendered as nearly as possible from the notes which i had made of the length and direction of my marches. the sketch of the district between nubra and the karakoram pass, which will, i hope, be found useful as an illustration of that part of my journey, has been prepared for me by dr. hooker, from a rough draft of my survey, assisted by verbal explanations. in conclusion, i have to add, that for the correction of the press, during which process many asperities by which the manuscript was disfigured have disappeared, i have to thank my kind friends, dr. and mrs. hooker. contents. chapter i. page appointment to a mission about to proceed to tibet -- leave firozpur for simla -- approach to the mountains -- appearance of himalaya from plains of india -- kalka -- ascent to kussowlee -- vegetation of plainward face -- origin of kussowlee ridge -- climate and vegetation of kussowlee -- aspect of inner ranges -- road from kussowlee to simla -- sabathu -- cross gambar river -- haripur -- tropical vegetation of basin of gambar -- steep ascent to simla -- its extent and situation -- its vegetation -- oak-forest -- pines -- flora of spring months -- of rainy season -- view from peak of jako -- structure of mountain ranges chapter ii. leave simla -- mahasu ridge -- pine forest -- summit of mahasu -- vegetation of northern slope -- fagu -- theog -- mattiana -- cultivated valley -- nagkanda -- ascent of hattu -- forest of pine and oak -- vegetation of summit -- view from top of mountain -- plainward slopes bare of forest, while those facing the interior are well wooded -- cultivation at feet -- descent from nagkanda towards sutlej -- damp shady ravine densely wooded -- kotgarh -- cultivation -- rapid descent -- change of climate -- tropical vegetation -- rampur -- swing-bridge -- diurnal fluctuations in level of river -- gaora -- serahan -- tranda -- western boundary of kunawar chapter iii. sildang river -- fine grove of deodars -- nachar -- fruit-trees -- vine seen for first time -- boundaries of kulu and kunawar -- cross sutlej at wangtu bridge -- vegetation of bare rocky valley -- waterfall -- chegaon -- _pinus gerardiana_ -- miru -- absence of rain -- alteration of vegetation -- _quercus ilex_ -- rogi -- willow and poplar -- chini -- cultivated plain -- kashbir -- pangi -- camp at upper level of trees -- junipers -- werang pass -- alpine vegetation -- birch and _rhododendron_ -- granite boulders -- lipa -- alluvial deposits -- encamp at , feet -- runang pass -- vegetation very scanty -- stunted forest -- sungnam chapter iv. hangarang ridge separates kunawar from piti -- ascent to hangarang pass -- alluvial deposit -- steep ascent -- view of valley -- limestone rocks -- _caragana versicolor_, or _dama_ -- camp at , feet -- top of pass -- view from pass -- vegetation of summit -- descent to hango -- cultivation round the village -- luxuriant wild plants -- road to lio -- _crambe_ -- ravine of piti river -- lio -- bridge over piti river -- ascent to nako -- nako -- cultivation of the village -- buddhist temple -- transported blocks -- chango -- changar -- stopped by villagers on chinese frontier -- natural bridge -- kyuri -- alluvium -- clay deposit with shells -- lari -- ramifications of mountain ranges -- alluvial platforms -- pok -- dankar -- lara -- rangrig -- upper part of piti -- climate -- saline exudations chapter v. leave valley of piti river -- kibar -- cultivation above , feet -- vegetation of mountains -- rocky gorge -- encampment at , feet -- parang pass -- snow-bed and glacier -- first plants at , feet -- parang valley -- gorge leading to chumoreri lake -- kiang, or wild horse -- chumurti -- remarkable grassy plain -- lanak pass -- granite boulders -- plants above , feet -- undulating hilly country -- hanle plain -- vegetation -- monastery of hanle chapter vi. descend hanle river -- unsettled weather -- encamp on banks of indus -- upper course of indus -- pugha ravine -- forest of myricaria trees -- borax plain -- hot springs -- borax lakes of eastern tibet -- sulphur mine -- pulokanka pass -- salt lake -- lacustrine clays with shells -- ancient water-mark -- rupchu -- tunglung pass -- fall of snow -- alluvial conglomerate -- giah -- narrow ravine -- miru -- upshi -- indus valley -- marsilang -- richly cultivated plain of chashut -- bridge over indus -- le -- buddhist edifices chapter vii. departure from le -- sabu valley -- pass between le and nubra -- snow -- encamp at , feet -- digar -- valley of shayuk -- alluvium -- _populus euphratica_ -- tsatti -- nubra river -- district of nubra -- villages -- irrigation -- saline soil -- isolated rocks -- chirasa -- panamik -- lower nubra -- platforms of alluvium -- traces of a great flood -- unmaru -- kuru -- great contraction of valley -- mountain pass of waris -- boghdan ravine -- chorbat -- mahommedan population -- villages -- outburst of granite -- siksa -- khapalu -- open plain of khapalu -- junction of shayuk and indus -- nar -- iskardo plain -- description of iskardo -- aqueduct -- fort -- lacustrine clay formation -- vegetation chapter viii. leave iskardo in the direction of kashmir -- first march through snow to turgu -- lacustrine clay -- it extends into narrow valleys beyond nar -- gol -- junction of indus and shayuk -- parkuta -- tolti -- kartash -- extensive lacustrine deposits -- tarkata -- road turns up the dras river -- ulding thung -- fall of snow -- hardas -- karbu -- continued snow -- dras -- find pass in front shut by deep snow -- obliged to return to iskardo -- rafts and rope-bridges on indus -- _elæagnus_ and apricot apparently wild -- winter at iskardo chapter ix. leave iskardo for rondu -- insurrection in gilgit -- koardu -- kamar -- enter narrow part of indus valley -- difficult road -- range of mountains south of indus -- description of rondu -- thawar -- avalanches -- alluvium -- swing-bridge -- villages -- juniper -- _pinus excelsa_ -- rocks -- vegetation -- return to iskardo -- agriculture of balti -- game of chaugan -- chakor hunting -- shigar valley -- journey towards kashmir -- dras valley -- karbu -- dras fort -- maten -- cross pass into kashmir -- baltal -- valley of sind river -- sonamarg -- gagangir -- gond -- gangan -- ganderbal -- enter main valley of kashmir -- town of kashmir -- description of kashmir -- lacustrine formation -- trap hills -- lake -- climate -- vegetation chapter x. environs of kashmir -- city lake -- gardens of shalimar and dilawer khan -- pampur -- avantipura -- platforms of lacustrine clay -- mountain of wasterwan -- ancient city -- clay, with shells and fragments of pottery -- ancient temple imbedded in clay -- lakes caused by subsidence -- islamabad -- shahabad -- vegetation -- vernag -- banahal pass -- valley of banahal -- tropical vegetation -- pass above chenab valley -- nasmon -- _jhula_, or swing-bridge -- balota -- ladhe ke dhar -- katti -- fort of landar -- mir -- kirmichi -- tertiary sandstones -- dhuns -- seda -- jamu chapter xi. leave jamu to return to tibet -- lake of sirohi sar -- vegetation of lower hills -- _dodonæa_ -- ramnagar -- garta -- dadu, on a tributary of the chenab -- camp at , feet -- badarwar -- padri pass -- descend a tributary of the ravi -- and ascend another towards the north -- sach _joth_, or pass -- snow-beds -- camp in chenab valley chapter xii. marked change in the vegetation -- bridge over chenab -- pargwal -- description of chenab valley -- asdhari -- chatargarh -- road turns up valley of butna -- vegetation of chenab valley -- chishot -- snow-beds -- camp at , feet -- ancient moraines -- glacier -- camp at , feet -- rapid ascent along glacier -- camp on moraine, at , feet -- change of weather -- ascent towards pass over glacier -- cross umasi la -- descent -- immense glacier -- encamp in tibet, at , feet -- open valley of zanskar -- padum -- great change of climate -- and in vegetation chapter xiii. rope bridge across zanskar river -- tongde -- zangla -- road leaves zanskar river -- takti la -- nira -- bridge over zanskar river -- singhi la -- phutaksha -- wandla -- lama yuru -- cross indus river -- kalatze -- nurla -- saspola -- nimo -- le -- pass north of le -- small glacier -- kardong -- kalsar -- vegetation -- diskit -- passage of shayuk river -- upper nubra -- vegetation of nubra -- hot spring at panamik chapter xiv. start for karakoram -- steep ascent out of nubra valley -- meet a party of merchants from yarkand -- view from summit of pass -- rapid torrent -- large glacier -- steep moraines -- alpine vegetation -- numerous glaciers -- lakes -- glacier on crest of sassar pass -- sassar -- cross shayuk river -- murgai -- limestone rocks -- ascend murgai valley to , feet -- singular limestone formation -- open plain above , feet -- re-cross shayuk river -- karakoram pass -- return to sassar -- glaciers of sassar -- return to le -- start for kashmir -- lamayuru -- phatu pass -- kanji river -- namika pass -- molbil -- pashkyum -- kargil -- dras -- zoji pass -- kashmir -- lahore -- completion of journey chapter xv. general description of tibet -- systems of mountains -- trans-sutlej himalaya -- cis-sutlej himalaya -- kouenlun -- four passes across kouenlun -- boundaries of western tibet -- height of its mountain ranges and passes -- climate of tibet -- clouds -- winds -- snow-fall -- glaciers -- their former greater extension -- elevation to which they descend -- snow-level -- geology -- lacustrine clay and alluvium [illustration: map of the mountains of northern india. _to illustrate_ dr. thomson's travels in western himalaya _and_ tibet. _dr. thomson's route is coloured red._ drawn & engraved by john arrowsmith.] western himalaya and tibet. chapter i. appointment to a mission about to proceed to tibet -- leave firozpur for simla -- approach to the mountains -- appearance of himalaya from plains of india -- kalka -- ascent to kussowlee -- vegetation of plainward face -- origin of kussowlee ridge -- climate and vegetation of kussowlee -- aspect of inner ranges -- road from kussowlee to simla -- sabathu -- cross gambar river -- haripur -- tropical vegetation of basin of gambar -- steep ascent to simla -- its extent and situation -- its vegetation -- oak-forest -- pines -- flora of spring months -- of rainy season -- view from peak of jako -- structure of mountain ranges. in the month of may, , while with my regiment at firozpur on the south bank of the sutlej, i received intimation that lord hardinge, at that time governor-general of india, had appointed me a member of a mission which he had determined to despatch across the himalaya mountains into tibet; and i was directed to proceed without delay to simla, from which place the mission was to start, as soon as the necessary arrangements could be completed. i left firozpur on the evening of the th of may, and travelling only at night, on account of the extreme heat, i arrived at the foot of the hills, on the morning of the th. the greater part of the road was through a perfectly level country, and nearly parallel to the sutlej, but without following its sinuosities. during a part of the last night's journey, i travelled among low hills, partly composed of loose sand and boulders, partly of clay and sandstone. the road enters this tract by an open valley, bounded on both sides by hills, which on the left are low and rounded. on the right they are scarped towards the plains, as well as towards the valley up which i travelled, and the strata of which they are composed, dip towards the himalaya. the valley is traversed by a little stream descending from the mountains, one of the tributaries of the gagar or markanda, that remarkable river, which runs in a south-west direction, as if about to join the indus, but ultimately loses itself in the sands of the bikanir desert. [sidenote: appearance of himalaya from the plains of india. _may, ._] when viewed from the plains of india, at a distance sufficient to enable the spectator to see the most elevated part of the chain, the himalaya appear to form several distinct parallel ranges on the horizon, rising in succession one behind another. the most distant of these is covered with perpetual snow, while the other two, usually called the middle and outer ranges, have the usual blue-grey tint of distant mountains. from very great distances in the plains, the most remote of these three apparent ranges is alone visible; and as the traveller advances towards the base of the mountains, the others rise in succession above the horizon. the optical deception, in consequence of which, masses of mountains of every configuration resolve themselves into ranges perpendicular to the line of sight, as soon as the eye is so far removed that the outline of the different parts becomes indistinct, has given to our maps many mountain-chains, which a nearer inspection proves to have no existence. as a good instance of this, i may mention the suliman range, west of the indus, which, though laid down in all our maps as a mountain belt, parallel to and skirting the plain country, behind which no mountains at all are represented, evidently consists of a series of ranges, almost perpendicular to the indus, and separated from one another by considerable rivers. the sources of these rivers lie far back, and the north and south axis from which they spring, separates all the tributaries of the indus from a succession of streams, which run in a south-westerly direction, and appear to terminate, without reaching the sea, in the low and flat country of seistan and western beluchistan. at distances of between sixty and thirty miles from the base of the himalaya, the three parallel chains are well seen. on a nearer approach, the lower and outer mountains by degrees become more distinct, and subtend a greater angle, so as at last to conceal the more distant portions of the chain. at the same time, the uniformity of outline by which they had been characterized, insensibly disappears. ridges become visible in the face presented to the eye, which, as the traveller continues to advance, become developed into projecting spurs, separated from the general mass by wide valleys, previously quite undistinguishable. on a still nearer approach, the elevation continuing to increase, the extent of range embraced by the eye is gradually lessened, till at last, when we arrive at the base of the mountains, a single valley with its bounding ranges of low hills is alone visible, the giant masses, so conspicuous from a greater distance, being no longer to be seen. the low sandy or sandstone hills, which form the outskirts of the himalaya, are not, on the road from firozpur to simla, anywhere of greater elevation than a few hundred feet. a few miles beyond the entrance, the valley, which has a considerable slope, widens as it approaches the more lofty mountains, and the sandstone cliffs are replaced by rounded hills, probably of a more ancient rock, covered with soil and vegetation. [sidenote: kalka. _may, ._] at the very base of the steep mountains is situated the village of kalka, at which, as it is the termination of palankin travelling, travellers in general stop, to arrange for the continuance of their journey. situated close to the source of the little stream which i had been following since i had entered the hilly country, and surrounded on all sides by low hills, kalka has an elevation of perhaps feet above the level of the sea, or feet above the plain on the outside of the sandstone hills. the general aspect of the low hills around kalka is barren and uninviting; it was especially so at the season of my visit, when the great heat had scorched the herbaceous vegetation, and all nature had a burnt-up appearance. the subtropical valleys are not here, as farther to the east along the base of the mountains, filled with dense forest. they are in general bare, a few scattered trees only appearing here and there. in the level part of the valley, at the very entrance, where the soil was still of some depth, _acacia arabica_ and _butea frondosa_, the most prevailing trees of the plains beyond, were frequent; but the stony water-courses contained little but a bamboo, and the hill-sides were covered with scattered bushes of the more ordinary shrubs of the plains of northern india, and presented few features of interest. [sidenote: ascent to kussowlee. _may, ._] immediately on leaving kalka, a long and steep ascent commenced, continuing for about ten miles, to the military post of kussowlee, which occupies the crest of the ridge overlooking the kalka valley, and can be seen throughout the greater part of the ascent, overhanging the winding road, which has been constructed along the side of the mountain. the elevation of kussowlee is about feet, an altitude at which the climate in the himalaya is perfectly temperate, so that during the ascent a traveller from the plains of india meets with a complete change of climate, a change, too, which in the month of may, the period of my visit, is particularly grateful, the heat below being most oppressive and disagreeable. as the elevation increases, the view from the road becomes more extensive. the low ranges of hills to the south and west, which had obstructed the view, are by degrees overtopped, and the plains beyond become visible. soon after leaving kalka the road crosses a low ridge, and enters a receding bay, or steeply sloping valley beyond, at the upper extremity of which, all along the crest, are seen the houses of kussowlee. winding round this valley, and continuing to rise, the stream in its centre is crossed about midway, and the ascent continues on the spur which forms its western boundary. this ridge is crossed close to the point where it is given off by the main range, and the road, winding round its most projecting part, enters a fir-wood, and, turning back very abruptly in an opposite direction, proceeds eastward along the northern face of the kussowlee range. [sidenote: vegetation. _may, ._] the plainward face of this range, along which the road from kalka ascends, is quite devoid of forest. the lower part is covered with scattered jungle, to use a most expressive indian word, of small shrubs, almost all of forms common in the plains. _carissa_ and _adhatoda_ are the most common, with _rottlera tinctoria_, a plant which does not extend far into the plains, and a scandent leguminous shrub, apparently a species of _mucuna_. around the few houses which occur on the ascent, the bamboo occurs planted, as well as the mango, and other common cultivated trees of the indian plains. at an elevation of about feet, an alteration in the vegetation begins to be perceptible. the thin jungle of plain shrubs disappears, the few shrubs which still occur, are generally scattered bushes of _hamiltonia_, _nyctanthes_, _prinsepia_, _scutellaria_, and _rubus_, but the slopes are usually bare and grassy. ferns and mosses appear in the crevices of the rocks, and the first individuals of those species which predominate in the temperate zone, are found in shady spots where they are sheltered from the sun. at the same elevation _euphorbia pentagona_ makes its appearance. this tree, which is confined to the hottest and driest slopes of the himalaya, is remarkable for its peculiar shape, its thick fleshy five-angled branches, and its milky juice. it is nowhere to be met with in the plains of upper india, but is common throughout the subtropical belt of the himalaya from kamaon westward. [sidenote: origin of kussowlee ridge. _may, ._] a glance at the map will serve to show that the great himalayan mountain range, dividing the waters of the sutlej from those of the jumna, holds a nearly due east and west course in its middle part, but that at its western extremity it bends round to the south, and terminates in the indian plain, not far from the town of nahan, and that (among many others) the kussowlee ridge is a branch from it, running in a north-westerly direction, and separating the waters of the more western branch of the gambar, from the small tributaries of the gagar, which find their way to the plains on the left hand. the ridge upon which the station of kussowlee is built, nowhere attains an elevation exceeding feet. it is very narrow, and often rocky and precipitous immediately below the crest on the plainward face, which dips very suddenly. the inner slope is somewhat less abrupt, and is covered from the summit to perhaps feet below it, with an open forest of a species of fir (_pinus longifolia_), which, in general appearance and mode of growth, much resembles the scotch fir, but is distinguished by the very great length of its leaves. the barracks for the troops and the houses of the residents are scattered over the northern slope, or perched on the narrow summit of the ridge. the shrubby and herbaceous vegetation which occurs scattered among the fir-wood, is so markedly different from that which prevails at the base of the mountains, and during the greater part of the ascent, that the traveller appears suddenly transported into a new world. instead of those tribes of the vegetable kingdom which abound in the torrid zone, all the forms which now meet the eye are characteristic of a temperate climate. the moderate elevation of the range, and its proximity to the plains, tend to lessen the rapidity of the diminution of temperature; and as the greater part of the ascent lies on a bare sunny slope, the tropical flora extends towards the summit, much farther than it does on ranges which rise higher, and are clothed with shady forest. during the ascent, therefore, the traveller, though often struck with the appearance of new forms, is still accompanied by many species familiar to him as natives of tropical jungles, but on passing to the northern face of the spur, the temperate region is at once entered, and most of the tropical forms disappear. [sidenote: view from kussowlee. _may, ._] as soon as the crest of the first slope of the himalaya has been gained, the eye is naturally directed towards the mountains beyond, in order to ascertain their appearance and position, when viewed at a diminished distance and from so much more considerable an elevation than had previously been the case. nor will the view from kussowlee in favourable weather disappoint the traveller who is desirous of meeting with beautiful scenery. immediately to the north lies a deep ravine, and beyond a single ridge is the wide valley of the gambar, with numerous mountain spurs, which, from their comparatively lower level, are not prominently brought into view. to the south-east the main range dips abruptly to a level, nearly feet below what it attains in the station of kussowlee itself, but again rises into the finely wooded hill on which has recently been built the lawrence asylum. still further to the south are deep dells, with bare and rugged slaty mountains, scarcely at all wooded. in the months of may and june, when the atmosphere is generally extremely hazy, the prospect is limited to the ranges more immediately in the vicinity; but occasionally even in these months, as well as in the dry intervals of the rainy season, and during the delightful autumn weather which follows the termination of the rains, a much more distant prospect is opened, stretching far up the valley of the sutlej, to the snow-clad peaks which, on either hand, hem in that river. in the direction of the plains of india, the view is also very remarkable. the kussowlee ridge so completely overtops the hills which intervene between it and the level country, that from its summit they interfere very little with the commanding view of the interminable flat which, like the ocean, stretches as far as vision extends. in the usual state of the atmosphere, especially in the hot season, a dense haze overhangs the plains, and entirely obscures their more distant parts; but in the cold season, as well as at day-break in summer, and especially after heavy rains, the misty vapours are entirely dissipated, and distant objects are defined with extreme precision. perhaps the most striking, because the most unexpected part of the view of the inner himalaya, from kussowlee, lies in the great depth of the valleys in the interior, and the distance of the next elevated range, of which the appearance of the mountains from the plains of india affords no indication. the extreme narrowness of the ridge, and the suddenness of the descent on both sides, is also very remarkable, and has, as already remarked, a very sensible effect on the climate, the heat of the lower mass being conveyed upwards, while the small extent of the knife-edge-like ridge, which rises above feet, exposes a minimum surface to the refrigerating influences of a rarefied atmosphere. [sidenote: road to simla. _may, ._] the distance from kussowlee to simla is by the road about thirty miles, though in a direct line the two places are not much more than half that distance apart. the road descends from kussowlee almost to the level of the plains, crossing the gambar at an elevation of a little less than feet, and ascends to simla by following the ridge which runs parallel to that river on its right bank, the source of the gambar being immediately below simla. it would indeed be possible to reach simla, by following the crest of the ridge, without descending at all into the valley of the river; but for this purpose it would be necessary to follow the kussowlee ridge so far to the southward, in order to reach its junction with the main range, that the length of the journey would be very much greater than that now followed. the road, therefore, only keeps the ridge for a very short distance, or as far as the "col," or lower part immediately north of kussowlee, which is quite bare of trees. it then turns abruptly to the left, descending on the north face of a spur, at first in a winding manner, afterwards for a short distance along a shady ravine, and finally through a good deal of cultivation, at an elevation of between and feet, to a considerable stream which runs towards the north to join the gambar. the greatest part of the descent is bare of trees, except along the banks of the little stream, which are covered with a belt of wood. the cultivated lands are extensive, occupying a flattish terraced slope, such as is of very general occurrence in the mountains, the fields being adapted for the growth of rain crops, principally of rice, with a few fields of ginger and cardamoms. [sidenote: sabathu. _may, ._] after reaching the stream just mentioned, which is crossed by a ford, a suspension bridge, for which the piers are partly built, having never been erected, the road continues to descend parallel to it towards the north, passing under the military station of sabathu, which, at the elevation of feet, occupies the crest of the ridge immediately to the east of the little river, a very short distance before its junction with the gambar. after passing sabathu the road turns to the right, round the projecting ridge of the range, and descends rapidly to the valley of the gambar river, which is crossed by a good suspension bridge at an elevation of feet above the level of the sea. it then ascends by a steep and laborious path to haripur, a small village about feet above the bed of the river. the gambar river, where the road crosses it, flows through a narrow rocky ravine, somewhat picturesque, but quite devoid of trees. this, however, is not the general character of the river-bed, which is frequently wide, with a broad gravelly channel, and sloping though often rather steep mountains on either side. there is occasionally even a strip of flat land, capable of cultivation along the banks; and where such is the case, the water of the river is carried off in artificial channels, for the purpose of irrigation. after attaining the crest of the ridge, and passing through the village of haripur, the road follows the ridge parallel to the river gambar, nearly all the way to simla, not always on the very crest or top, which would entail a great many unnecessary ascents and descents, but generally a little on one side or other of the hill, as circumstances may render most convenient; at one time ascending rather steeply, but more generally rather gently as far as sairi, the last stage on the way to simla, beyond which the road is pretty level, nearly to the bottom of the mountain on which simla stands. the valley of the river gambar may be regarded as an excellent specimen of a smaller himalayan river, draining a large extent of country, and discharging its waters independently into the plains, though not, like the first-class rivers, deriving its origin from the snowy mountains. the southern border of the basin of the gambar, is of course the main chain of the south sutlej himalaya; and the whole of the country between the jutog spur, which leaves that chain at simla, and the kussowlee ridge, the origin of which i have already detailed, is drained by the gambar and its tributaries. this includes an extent of country of not less than square miles, the bounding ranges of which have, throughout the greater part of their extent, an elevation varying from to about feet. both the kussowlee and jutog ranges dip at last rather abruptly, so that it is only during a very short distance that they are below the last-mentioned elevation. this elevation, which is quite temperate, is however by no means that of the whole superficies of the basin, the bed of the river having, at its _débouchure_ into the sutlej, an elevation of not more than feet, and rising very gently till near its source immediately below simla. the lateral ridges, which traverse the basin in every direction, are in general less elevated; not exceeding feet in their upper part, and sinking to or even lower, so that the mean elevation of the whole basin cannot be estimated, i should think, higher than feet. [sidenote: basin of gambar vegetation. _may, ._] such being the case, it is not surprising that the general appearance of the vegetation should be tropical, and closely approximate to that of the low hills on the very exterior of the himalaya. this is in general the case. the hills, which are generally grassy, and, though steep and frequently stony, rarely rocky or precipitous, are quite devoid of forest, or even brushwood, except in a few shady nooks with a northern exposure, and favourably situated with respect to moisture; the shrubby vegetation being thin and scattered. this total want of forest, is unquestionably caused by the dryness of the climate during the greater part of the year, which is to a certain degree increased beyond what it would otherwise be, by the proximity of the surrounding mountain ranges, to which a large proportion of the rain-clouds are no doubt attracted. in the shady ravines north of kussowlee, where there is the greatest approach to forest, a species of laurel is the most conspicuous tree. on the more exposed hills, _falconeria insignis_ and _euphorbia pentagona_ occur, scattered as small trees, and one small wood of _Ægle marmelos_ is passed close to the village of haripur. the most common shrubs are _adhatoda vasica_, _carissa_, and _zizyphus jujuba_, species universal in the plains of upper india; _colebrookea oppositifolia_, _grislea_, _bergera_, _roylea_ and _boehmeria nivea_, all species which are throughout the north-west himalaya, characteristic of the lower and drier parts of the outer ranges. two labiate shrubs, _plectranthus rugosus_ and _meriandra strobilifera_, are particularly abundant on the slopes between haripur and sairi, and strongly mark the aridity of the climate. the herbaceous vegetation, being principally of annual growth, approaches still more closely to the plains types. at the season of my journey in may, the extreme drought had dried up almost all the smaller plants, but during, and immediately after the rainy season the herbage is very luxuriant. the steep slopes are then covered with a uniform herbage of tall grasses, which is in many places cut and preserved for hay, by the inhabitants of the scattered villages in the valleys. the most prevailing grasses are a tall sweet-scented _cymbopogon_ and _heteropogon contortus_. a species of _kalanchoë_, a large and conspicuous plant, with thick fleshy leaves, is very common, and the superb _gloriosa_ or _methonica_ is by no means rare. on the highest ridges in the valley, at elevations of feet and upwards, there are frequent approaches to the temperate flora, the shady slopes on northern exposures being frequently covered with small patches of brushwood, containing species of _berberis_, _rubus_, _spiræa_, etc., and numerous herbaceous species, of forms common at simla. these, however, are quite exceptional, though no doubt with a very little more humidity the shrubby vegetation would rapidly extend, and under its shelter many small plants would be able to grow, which are now, when they attempt to vegetate, destroyed by the scorching heat of the sun. it must also not be forgotten, that notwithstanding the general tendency to a tropical flora, the natural result of the low elevation and great aridity of these hills, a portion of the vegetation even at the lowest levels consists of plants of european forms, such as characterize the temperate vegetation of the himalaya. i do not here refer to what may be called the cold-weather vegetation of the plains of north-western india, at which season, the temperature of the air approaching to that of the summer of the temperate zone, a considerable number of european plants make their appearance in corn-fields and along the banks of water-courses; as, for example, _veronica anagallis_ and _agrestis_, _anagallis_, _medicago_, _melilotus_, _potentilla supina_, _juncus bufonius_, _arenaria serpyllifolia_, _heliotropium europæum_, and many others. these naturally occur at the same season, in the low valleys among the hills, in similar situations. the circumstance to which i desire to advert, is the occurrence at very low levels among the mountains, during the hot and rainy seasons, of species belonging to genera characteristic of temperate climates, and which therefore are the prevailing forms at considerable elevations on the himalaya. as instances, i may adduce the occurrence in the valley of the gambar, at elevations not exceeding feet, of species of _thalictrum_, _fragaria_, _rosa_, _rubus_, _berberis_, &c., &c. this remarkable fact has been ascribed by jacquemont[ ] to the obscure influence of the mountains; and as the genera just enumerated never occur in the plains of upper india, it appears evident that the mountainous nature of the country must be viewed as an essential element in the reasons for their descent. these, with some others which also occur at low levels in the himalaya, appear to be in all parts of the continent of india those genera of temperate climates, which descend to the lowest altitudes. some of them were found by dr. hooker on parasnâth, a hill in upper behar, the elevation of which does not exceed feet; and they are all natives of moderate elevations on the nilgherries and in ceylon, as well as on the khasya mountains in eastern bengal. [sidenote: ascent to simla. _may, ._] [sidenote: simla. _may, ._] the ridge which runs from haripur to sairi, parallel to the river gambar, is a branch from the jutog spur, nearly north of simla, a ridge which is given off by the main south sutlej chain in simla itself, and which runs directly north to the sutlej river. the road, after following this ridge till within a few miles of simla, leaves it on the left hand, to descend into a small stony ravine; after crossing which it mounts abruptly a very steep spur, ascending at least feet to gain the crest of the ridge, and enter simla at its north-western extremity. the hill station of simla, which was originally selected as a sanatarium, or suitable residence for the servants of government, or other europeans, whose health had been impaired by disease, or by too long residence in a tropical climate, has of late years, in consequence of the political state of north-western india, and of the increasing number of retired officers, and of gentlemen unconnected with the public service, who have made it their residence, become a place of great importance. besides an extensive bazaar or collection of shops, which may now almost be designated a small native town, simla contains nearly houses, scattered along the crest of different mountain ranges. its situation is a most favourable one, on the main range of mountains south of the sutlej river, at a point where a massive peak rises to a height of feet, and on the nearest part of the ridge to the plains of india, which is sufficiently elevated, well wooded, and situated favourably with regard to water. the greater part of the station is built on the main range, partly surrounding the peak of jako, and partly on the ridge running north from it, at an elevation of about feet, as far as a smaller culminating point of the range, which is by the inhabitants named prospect point. at this point the main range turns sharply to the west, and the station is continued for nearly a mile on a spur which runs towards the north, passing through the station of jutog. from the scattered position of the houses, the extent of simla is much more considerable than the bare statement of the number of houses might lead one to suppose. the northern ridge extends almost four miles, and the circuit of jako, by the principal road, which is from to feet below the summit, measures five miles. in consequence of the sudden elevation of the mountain range at the place where simla has been built, there is a most complete and surprising change in the vegetation and general appearance of the scenery. during the last ascent on the road from the plains this is sufficiently perceptible, although from the great ravages which the proximity of so large a population has made in the oak woods, only a few stunted bushes are now left on the southern exposure. between the plains and simla the hills are totally devoid of trees, but immediately on gaining the top of the ridge on which the station is built, we enter a fine forest, which covers all the broader parts of the range, especially the slopes which have a northern aspect, stretching down on these in many places to the bottom of the valleys, fully feet. [sidenote: oak forest. _may, ._] [sidenote: pines of simla. _may, ._] the nature of the forest varies a good deal with the exposure and with the quality of the soil. by far the greater part consists of an oak and a rhododendron, both small evergreen trees, rarely exceeding thirty or forty feet, with wide-spreading arms and rugged twisted branches. a species of _andromeda_ is also very common, and a holly, an _euonymus_, _rhamnus_, and _benthamia_, are the other more common trees, if we except the _coniferæ_, of which four species occur. of these, _pinus longifolia_ is common at the western or lower extremity of the station, and prevails, to the exclusion of any other tree, on the dry sunny spurs which run towards the south, at elevations from to feet. this species is, of all the indian pines known to me (except its near ally _p. khasyana_), that which is capable of enduring the most heat, and at the same time the greatest variation in amount of moisture; as it is found at elevations of not more than feet above the level of the sea, equally in the hot humid valleys of sikkim, where it enjoys a perpetual vapour-bath, and on the dry sandstone hills of the upper punjab, on which rain hardly ever falls. it is only, however, at low elevations, where the mean temperature is high, that it is capable of supporting a great amount of humidity, for in the damp climates of the himalaya it is entirely wanting, except in the deepest valleys; and even in the drier districts it is always observed to select the sunnier, and therefore warmer exposures. its upper limit is usually about feet above the level of the sea, though on jako at simla a few stunted trees rise as high as feet. _pinus excelsa_ is also a very common species at simla, particularly on the southern face of mount jako, which is the highest part of the ridge. _abies smithiana_, the third coniferous tree, is exceedingly rare, a few trees only occurring in a shady ravine facing the west; while the deodar, the fourth species, is common on the southern and western slopes of jako, above feet; and again in shady groves at the bottom of the valleys on both sides of the ridge, as low as feet. this beautiful tree, the cedar of the indian mountains, seems limited to the western half of the himalayan range, extending from the most westerly part of nipal, as far as the mountains of affghanistan. it was first described by roxburgh from specimens sent to him from kamaon, at a time when the western himalaya was almost inaccessible to europeans, under the name by which it is known to the inhabitants of that province, as well as in kashmir. it is, however, singularly enough, not known by that name in the simla hills, where it is called _kélu_; another conifer, _cupressus torulosa_, a rare tree in the district, having usurped the name, as well as the sacred character, of deodar. in the thick woods of simla, a large white monkey, the _langúr_ of the natives, is very common. these animals move about in large flocks, in which may be seen individuals of all sizes and ages, and seldom remain more than a few hours in one place. they are in constant motion, leaping from bough to bough and from tree to tree, chattering constantly; and, notwithstanding their great size, are in general harmless, though ready enough to defend themselves if assailed. the forest extends in parts close up to the peak of jako, which has an elevation of feet. the very summit, however, which is a short flat ridge, and a considerable part of the east and south face, are bare and grassy, or covered with scattered shrubs. the more common shrubby forms of the vegetation of the temperate zone, are _salix_, _rosa_, _rubus_, _lonicera_, _viburnum_, _berberis_, _indigofera_, and _prinsepia_, all, except the two last, quite european. _indigofera_ forms a remarkable exception, and one well worthy of note, as the genus is a very tropical one, although its shrubby species are particularly abundant throughout the whole of the western himalaya. these shrubby species, however, constitute a particular section of the genus, very distinct in habit, and in the large size and bright colour of the flower, from the more ordinary forms, and they are confined to the drier parts of the mountains, being quite wanting in the humid climate of darjeeling and khasya, and almost entirely so in the mountains of the peninsula. [sidenote: vegetation of the spring months. _may, ._] the herbaceous vegetation of the spring months quite corresponds, in the temperate nature of its forms, with what has been found to be the case with the trees and shrubs; but during the rainy season, as has been well pointed out by dr. royle in his valuable essay on the distribution of himalayan plants, this is much less markedly the case. at the commencement of spring, in april (for march is still too cold for much vegetation), the weather being generally bright, though with occasional heavy showers, the earliest flowers are species of _viola_, _fragaria_, _geranium_, _veronica_, _valeriana_, and dandelion. from april, as summer advances, the temperature gradually rises, till towards the end of june, when the rainy season commences. these months are generally dry, and if no rain falls the heat is sometimes considerable, the thermometer rising as high as ° in the shade. still the flora is almost entirely temperate, the early spring plants being succeeded by many others of european families, principally _ranunculaceæ_, _rosaceæ_, _labiatæ_, _stellatæ_, _polygonaceæ_, _epilobiaceæ_, _primulaceæ_, etc. i can scarcely enumerate a single spring flowering plant which does not belong to an european family, unless _arum_ be an exception, which it can hardly be considered, the flowers only being displayed during may and june, while the leaves do not make their appearance until after the rainy season has commenced. few species are, however, identical with those of europe, except _stellaria media_, _cerastium vulgatum_, _taraxacum officinale_, _verbascum thapsus_, _thymus serpyllum_, and _poa annua_. [sidenote: flora of rainy season. _july, ._] [sidenote: peak of jako. _july, ._] the rainy season generally commences about the th of june, or between that date and the end of the month, and continues till the middle or end of september, with occasional intermissions, rarely exceeding a week at a time. during the rains the atmosphere is exceedingly moist, dense fogs usually prevailing when rain does not fall. the rain-fall is probably more considerable at simla than in the lower ranges, which are nearer the plains, for it has been observed that ranges of - feet (which are generally for this reason well wooded), attract much moisture, and the peak of jako and other parts of simla are frequently observed from the stations of sabathu and kussowlee, to be covered with dense clouds or mist, at times when at the latter places the weather is bright and clear. the commencement of the rainy season is the signal in the mountains, as it is very universally throughout india, wherever that season is well marked, for the appearance of a very vigorous and luxuriant growth of plants of annual growth, the seeds (or rootstocks) of which had been lying dormant in the soil awaiting the access of heavy rain. at simla, as elsewhere in the temperate region of the himalaya, we find at this season numerous species of balsams, _acanthaceæ_, _orchideæ_, and _labiatæ_, several gentians and _cichoraceæ_, a great many grasses and _cyperaceæ_, and species of _parnassia_, _drosera_, _pedicularis_, _roscoea_, _dipsacus_, _thalictrum_, _urtica_, etc., etc. some of these are quite european genera, while others, as _roscoea_, are interesting as belonging to orders whose maxima occur in very humid climates. the _labiatæ_ of the rainy season are mostly species of _plectranthus_ and _elsholtzia_, both quite indian genera, and very extensively distributed in mountainous districts. balsams are quite an indian order, and they seem everywhere, as has already been remarked by dr. royle and by dr. wight, to abound in humid shady places, either in dense forest or on the stony banks of mountain streams, in the drier districts only during the rainy season, but in more humid countries more or less throughout the year. the _orchideæ_ of simla are entirely terrestrial, the dryness and cold of the winter months being greater than are compatible with the occurrence of epiphytical species of this natural order, and for the same reason, i presume, _melastomaceæ_, so abundant in the eastern himalaya, are quite wanting. among the many advantages of situation by which simla is characterized, one of the most fortunate is its position on a part of the mountain range which lies transversely to the ordinary direction of the chain, so that the view towards the plains of india, as well as up the sutlej valley, is very much more extensive than would be obtained, had the station been situated in a less favourable position. this advantage is further enhanced by the sudden rise in elevation of the chain, which enables a resident at simla to overlook in the direction of the plains the continuation of the range which would otherwise obstruct the view. towards the interior of the mountains, this advantage is not possessed by simla; for the ridge of mahasu, which rises feet higher than the peak of jako, obscures at least half of the snowy range, the view being limited in that direction to the course of the valley of the sutlej, and to the mountains north of that river. [sidenote: view from the peak of jako. _july, ._] with all these advantages of situation, the view from the peak of jako is one of the most agreeable and diversified, which occur in any part of the himalaya; although, from the rather too level top of the mountain, and the intrusion of the forest almost to the very summit, the whole panorama cannot be embraced at once. immediately under the eye are the numerous spurs and ridges covered with scattered houses, and the deep ravines which terminate the steep slopes below the station; towards the plains, the whole valley of the gambar is seen, with the stations of sabathu and kussowlee, the church and esplanade of the former appearing low down almost within a stone's throw, while the brilliant white of the houses of kussowlee, more nearly on a level with the eye, sparkle in the sunbeams. the ridge of kussowlee in one place excludes the view of the plains, but to the right they may be seen stretching away in the distance, and only recognizable at last by the track of the sutlej river, which, from the very remarkable curve close to its exit from the mountains, may be traced as far as vision can extend, a distance of miles[ ]. to the north a valley stretches from simla as far as the sutlej river, distant about fifteen miles, so direct that the greater part of it is seen, though the river itself is concealed. east of north a long partially wooded ridge, about four miles distant at its nearest point, running parallel to the valley just mentioned, excludes the view of the nearer part of the sutlej valley; but the lofty ranges north of that river, covered with dense forest, and backed by masses of brilliant snow, close in the view in that direction. due east lies the mahasu ridge, covered on the simla slopes with a dense forest of deodar; and to the south, across the valley of the giri, towards which numerous rugged ridges run, is the mountain called the chor, the highest peak of the range which separates the giri from the tons, the crest of which is upwards of , feet in height. from the peak of jako, the serpentine course of the range, which prevails universally throughout the himalaya, may be well traced, as the eye of the spectator, following the direct course of the ridge, can observe numerous turns in its course, each of which, from the great foreshortening, appears much more abrupt than it really is. at each curve the range rises into a peak, while the intermediate portions are lower and excavated into "cols" or passes. in the concavity of each bend of the range is situated the head of a valley, numerous small spurs dividing the different ravines which unite to form it; while on the convex side, from the high portion of the ridge, is given off a branch of the range, forming a separation between two adjacent valleys, each of which occupies a concavity in the main range of mountain. on my arrival at simla on the th of may, i found that major a. cunningham, of the bengal engineers, and captain henry strachey, of the th regiment n.i., were to be my fellow-travellers, the former having been appointed the head of the mission. as captain strachey had to travel from dinapore, it was evident that some time would elapse before he would arrive at simla, nor was it till the beginning of august that the completion of the necessary preliminaries rendered it possible for us to commence our journey. i took advantage of this delay to make myself as far as possible acquainted with the physical features and vegetation of the surrounding country, though the necessary preparations for the approaching journey occupied a good deal of time, and the commencement of the rainy season rendered travelling difficult, and even out-of-door exercise unpleasant. i have already attempted to convey an idea of the general physical aspect of the scenery, which, after a short residence has made one familiar with the structure of the ridges, appears very simple. situated on the dividing range, by which the waters of the giri, a tributary of the jumna, on the left, are separated from those of the tributaries of the sutlej on the right, the spectator looks into two of the immense basins into which the himalaya is divided by transverse ranges running parallel to the great rivers; and after a short time he finds that the chaos of mountains, which at first perplexed the eye and confused the mind, gradually resolves itself into a definite shape, each ridge being capable of being referred to its parent, and that in its turn to a branch of the main chain. from his commanding position he can also see that the main range is generally more elevated than its branches, and that each chain, by a succession of sudden sinkings, diminishes in elevation, each peak being lower than its predecessor. nowhere in the wide tract of country visible is there the least approach to a system of parallel ridges, such as is indicated by the distant view of these mountains. on the contrary, it is seen that the great ranges are, though very irregularly, perpendicular to the general direction of the mountain mass, and that it is only the shorter spurs which have a general uniformity of direction. [sidenote: structure of the mountain ranges. _july, ._] nor could i find in the structure of the mountains around simla any confirmation of the view entertained by humboldt of the sudden elevation of the himalaya out of a vast fissure in the external crust of the earth. however plausible such a view might appear when the himalaya is contemplated as a whole (on a map), without any portion of its extent being under the eye, i found it, on the spot, quite impossible to conceive in what way, after such a sudden elevation, any power in the least analogous to existing forces could have excavated out of the solid rock those numerous valleys, so various in direction, so rugged in outline, and so vast in dimensions, which now furrow the mountain mass. on the contrary, the conclusion has been forced upon me that these mountains have emerged extremely gradually from an ocean, of the existence of which, at very various levels, the most evident traces are, i think, discoverable. the present configuration of the surface must, i do not doubt, have been given to it during periods of rest, or of very slow elevation, the action of the sea upon submerged rocks being so very superficial that no denudation takes place at any great depth. during the period of emergence of the himalaya, from the great length of the present valleys, which extend between parallel ranges far into the interior, the coast must have borne a strong resemblance to that of norway at the present day, numerous promontories projecting far into the sea, and separated from one another by narrow and deep bays. [sidenote: geology.] the geological structure of the himalaya between simla and the plains is not easily discovered by the cursory observer. the general basis of the mountains is clay-slate, occasionally very micaceous, passing into a coarse sandstone, but here and there limestone occurs interstratified. the dip is extremely variable, and the rocks, whatever their age, are evidently highly metamorphosed. the tertiary formations, so well illustrated by falconer and cautley, extend all along the base of the mountains, and penetrate in some places far into the valleys, for certain rocks in the neighbourhood of sabathu have been indicated by major vicary, which appear to be of the same age, or perhaps of a still older tertiary epoch. footnotes: [ ] voyage, etc., vol. ii. p. . [ ] in this i allow feet for the height of loodiana above the level of the sea. chapter ii. leave simla -- mahasu ridge -- pine forest -- summit of mahasu -- vegetation of northern slope -- fagu -- theog -- mattiana -- cultivated valley -- nagkanda -- ascent of hattu -- forest of pine and oak -- vegetation of summit -- view from top of mountain -- plainward slopes bare of forest, while those facing the interior are well wooded -- cultivation at feet -- descent from nagkanda towards sutlej -- damp shady ravine densely wooded -- kotgarh -- cultivation -- rapid descent -- change of climate -- tropical vegetation -- rampur -- swing-bridge -- diurnal fluctuations in level of river -- gaora -- serahan -- tranda -- western boundary of kunawar. on the nd of august, , every necessary preparation having been completed, and the officers of the mission having received the instructions of the governor-general to proceed to ladakh, and thence to take severally such direction as they should consider most conducive to the increase of our knowledge of these countries, major cunningham, captain strachey, and myself left simla. [sidenote: departure from simla. _august, ._] the route selected as most eligible, in order to reach hangarang and piti, to which we had been instructed in the first place to proceed, lay up the course of the sutlej river, through kunawar. the advanced period of the season, at which almost constant rain might be expected, rendered the river route, on which at most stages tolerable shelter is obtainable, preferable to that by the pabar valley, and the bruang (or borendo) pass, which otherwise we should have preferred, from its passing through a more elevated tract of country. from simla the first day's journey towards the interior of the mountains is usually to fagu, a distance of fourteen miles. here, and for several stages farther, as far as the road lies through british territory, there are houses (bungalows, as they are termed in india) provided by government for the accommodation of travellers, upon the payment of a small fixed sum per diem. though often in bad repair, and therefore very uncomfortable in rainy weather, these houses (which occur also between simla and the plains) are a very great convenience, as they enable tourists to dispense with the carriage of tents. the difficulty of making a start, from the small number of porters procurable for our baggage, was so great that it was some time after dark before i reached the fagu bungalow, in the midst of an extremely heavy fall of rain, which had commenced about sunset, after a fair though lowering day. the road from simla to fagu follows throughout the course of the main range, not always on the very crest of the ridge, but seldom at any great distance from it. after passing round the peak of jako, it turns northward, and descends abruptly about feet, to a low part of the ridge, elevated about feet, and quite bare of trees, the micaceous slaty rock being in many places exposed. the ridge continues in a direction for nearly four miles, varying very little in level, only one short and rather steep ascent occurring to a peak where a spur branches off to the south, beyond which the road again slightly descends. about half-a-mile to the north of this little ridge, on the slope of the hill below the road, there is a small cluster of trees of _cupressus torulosa_, a species of cypress, one of the rarer conifers of the himalaya; the most favourite situation of which seems to be on very steep mountains in the interior, at elevations of from seven to nine thousand feet. it was found abundantly by major madden[ ] on shali, a peak twenty miles east of simla, and it appears to extend thence west as far as simla, where it occurs in several places on hot, dry, and very bare rocky hills, as low as six thousand feet. about four miles from simla, a sudden increase in the elevation of the range takes place, and at the same time it turns abruptly towards the south-east. the road ascends the steep face of the ridge, in a series of zigzags, rather steeply, with a deep ravine on either hand, that to the right bare, while on the left there is first a thicket of rose and willow bushes, and further on an oak-wood, of a species (_quercus floribunda_ of wallich) different from that common at simla, and indicative of greater elevation, though here growing with _rhododendron_ and _andromeda_, common simla trees. when near the top of the ascent, the road bends rapidly to the right, keeping on the south face of the ridge, and passing under but close to a small house, built on the very crest of the ridge, at an elevation of about feet. close to this bungalow, which occupies a most excellent site, forest commences, and the road runs for a mile through fine trees of deodar and spruce (_abies smithiana_), generally on the very crest of the ridge, looking down towards the east into a deep and broad valley. right across this valley, north-east, rises the remarkable peak of shali, a bold rocky mass sloping gently to the south, while to the north, which seems to overhang the sutlej valley, it is cut off very abruptly. this highly beautiful mountain, the termination of a northerly spur, given off close to mattiana, is hardly visible from simla, its top only being seen from some of the more northerly houses. [sidenote: mahasu ridge. _august, ._] from an elevation of about feet at its north-west end, the mahasu ridge rises, at first gradually, to at least feet, and as it is throughout well wooded, the road along it is extremely beautiful. on the earlier part of the ridge, the forest consists chiefly of pine, _p. excelsa_ and _abies smithiana_ being abundant, and more especially the deodar, which, on the slope facing the west, may be seen in the greatest profusion, thousands of young trees springing up in dense masses, on the slopes which have been bared by the axe, or still more destructively by the fires of the hill-men. after about five miles of what, in the himalaya, may be called tolerably level road, another sudden ascent follows, the road inclining rather to the northern slope of the mountain, and entering a dense forest of large massive pines, intermixed with two species of sycamore, and a fine cherry, which relieve the otherwise too gloomy foliage of the coniferous trees. a magnificent climbing vine, which attaches itself to the tallest trees, rising in light green coils round their trunks, and falling in graceful festoons from the branches high over head, adds much to the elegance of the scene, and renders it, in the expressive words of griffith, who was familiar with the rich vegetation of the humid forests of the eastern himalaya, the only true himalayan forest of the western mountains. [sidenote: summit of mahasu. _august, ._] on this ascent the road rises to about feet, the crest of the mahasu ridge being, according to captain herbert, feet. the large size and dense shade of the trees, and the abundance of _abies smithiana_, of the sycamore, and of the gigantic vine, give the forest a totally different appearance from that of simla, and the undergrowth presents also a considerable amount of novelty; a species of currant, a fine _spiræa_, _indigofera atropurpurea_, and fine species of _rosa_ and _rubus_, forming thickets under the tall trees. this forest, indeed, from its dense shade, and great humidity, exhibits a much greater contrast to the ordinary temperate vegetation of the himalaya, than is usually observed below feet, at which elevation the upper temperate, or subalpine vegetation, begins fairly to predominate over that which is prevalent from to feet. on reaching the summit of the steep ascent, the road again gains the crest of the ridge, which consists of a succession of rounded knolls, covered with grass, and quite bare of trees, the forest rising almost, but not quite, to the top. on the very summit of one of the first of these knolls, is a small wooden shrine or temple, of a form common in the hills; the top of a mountain, or the summit of any very steep ascent, being usually selected as a proper spot for the erection of a sacred building by indian mountaineers, in whose superstition every hill and grove is tenanted by supernatural beings. [sidenote: potato cultivation. _august, ._] the steep ascent on the northern shoulder of mahasu, from feet, and even lower, to above feet, is the great seat of the potato cultivation in the neighbourhood of simla. the steepest slopes seem to be preferred for this purpose, if they have only a sufficiency of soil, which is very light, loose, and stony. the undergrowth of shrubs is cleared away entirely on the spot where potatoes are planted, but the pine forest is only partially thinned, the tall straight trunks allowing of a free circulation of air below, while the thick branches above afford the amount of shade requisite for the crop. the potatoes are planted in rows in may; and, early in june, when the plants have attained a height of a few inches, the soil is earthed up round their stems in low ridges. the rains commence in the latter part of june, and during their continuance nothing is done to the crop, beyond keeping it clear of weeds. the steepness of the slope seems to afford a sufficient drainage to prevent any injury from the great rain-fall and constant humidity. the growth of the plants is exceedingly luxuriant, the foliage being tall and bushy. by the middle of october, or after the close of the rains, the potatoes are dug and ready for market, supplying not only the station of simla, but being despatched in great quantities to the plains of india, where the potato is only cultivated as a winter crop, and where, therefore, during the cold months, none are otherwise procurable. on the very summit of the mahasu ridge, there are a few trees of _quercus semicarpifolia_, the alpine oak of the western himalaya, an european-looking and partially deciduous species, and of _picea webbiana_, or _pindrow_, the silver fir of the indian mountains, a dark sombre-looking pine, abundant in the forests of the interior. these trees may be adopted as the characteristics of the subalpine zone, in every part of which, from to about , feet, which is the highest limit of tree vegetation in the western himalaya, they abound. on mahasu they are entirely confined to the crest of the ridge, and form no part of the forest below. [sidenote: fagu. _august, ._] the descent from the top of mahasu to the fagu bungalow, is at first abrupt, the road leaving the ridge to enter the forest on the northern face, and winding down, after a few hundred yards of bare stony slope, among dense forest, among which it continues for a couple of miles, rising at last rather steeply to the crest of the ridge at the point where it resumes a northerly direction. here the bungalow of fagu has been built, at an elevation of feet, at the very base of the steep mountain ridge behind, which rises abruptly, to a height of six or seven hundred feet. the bungalow faces the north-east, and commands a most superb view of the snowy range beyond the sutlej, with occasional glimpses of the jumno-gangetic snows on the right hand. on my arrival at fagu, in the midst of a pelting fall of rain, i found the bungalow already occupied by my fellow-travellers, and before a bright and comfortable fire i soon forgot the discomfort of my wet ride, which indeed was not to be complained of, as it was only what might fairly have been expected in the middle of the rainy season. the confusion among our baggage, however, was so great, from its arriving irregularly and being set down hurriedly by the drenched porters, anxious to escape as soon as possible to shelter, that it was not without difficulty i procured the necessary change of clothing. the morning of the rd of august was densely foggy, but without rain, and it was unanimously decided that it would be advisable to push on to the next stage, mattiana, a distance of fifteen miles. our anticipations of fair weather were unfortunately disappointed, for it began to rain heavily before ten o'clock, and continued to do so with little intermission till nearly two, when it cleared, and the remainder of the day was fine. [sidenote: giri valley. _august, ._] the whole day's journey lay along the ridge, which scarcely fell below feet, and nowhere rose above feet. fagu is situated immediately above the valley of the river giri, a large mountain stream, the most western tributary of the jumna. a road across the jumnetic valleys to massuri descends abruptly towards that river, descending more than feet in little more than five miles, and crossing the river by a bridge at an elevation of feet. the mountains to the right, which dip into the valley of the giri, are bare of forest, with a good deal of cultivation in small terraced fields on the steep sunny slopes, while scattered houses, scarcely collected into villages, are seen here and there among the fields. on the left hand, again, the deep valley which runs towards the sutlej is full of forest, not rising however to the ridge, which is bare, or lined only with scattered jungle of _indigofera_, _desmodium_, _spiræa_, roses, and brambles. it seems to be a constant rule that the depressions of the ridges are bare and open, while the more elevated portions are covered with forest. probably the cause of this is the greater humidity of the higher slopes, which attract the rain-clouds, while the lower ranges are dry. the currents of air which sweep up the valleys may also in part be the cause of the bareness of the ridges opposite their summits. [sidenote: theog. _august, ._] at theog, nearly eight miles from fagu, there is a fort belonging to a rana, or hill chieftain, and a small village, with a good many fields. the cultivation at this great elevation, for the fields reach to at least feet, is principally of barley, which is sown in early spring, and reaped in the beginning or middle of june, according to the season. beyond theog the road rises a little, and is covered with brushwood on the left hand, but bare on the right. the highest part of the road is about two miles beyond theog, and has an elevation of about feet. the northern face of this hill is prettily wooded with the holly-leaved oak, and covered with numerous large angular boulders, whose origin is rather difficult to explain. after passing this little hill the ridge sweeps round to the left in a semicircle, ascending very gradually and gently to a low ridge, from the crest of which the bungalow of mattiana comes into sight, at a distance of nearly two miles, the whole of which is a gentle descent. the latter part of the road has a direction nearly due north, and the bungalow is situated in a very commanding position on the top of a little eminence, a quarter of a mile from the village, which occupies the slope of the hill facing the south-east, at a considerably lower level. the hills on both sides of the bungalow, which has an elevation of feet, are extremely steep, and descend at least feet. the valley on the left, tributary to the sutlej, is well wooded, but that on the right is rather bare, with only a little wood here and there in the ravines, and on the more shady exposures. [sidenote: mattiana. _august, ._] the slopes below mattiana are covered with numerous scattered houses and a good deal of cultivation. a little rice is grown during the rains, but the principal crops are barley and some wheat, sown in spring and reaped before the commencement of the rains. the opium poppy, also a spring crop, is cultivated to some extent in the lower part of the valley. it is sown in early spring, and the opium is gathered in june. on the morning of the th of august we resumed our journey, proceeding as far as nagkanda, about thirteen miles. nagkanda, like mattiana and fagu, lies exactly on the crest of the main range, south of the sutlej, and it is possible to proceed to it by a footpath along the ridge. the ascent, however, immediately north of mattiana, where the ridge rises suddenly to nearly , feet, is so steep, rocky, and difficult, that it is quite impassable for horses, and so nearly for loaded men, that a more easy, though somewhat longer road is always preferred. i have more than once walked from nagkanda to mattiana by the upper road, and found it quite easy on foot, and so very beautiful as to be well worth a visit. the ascent from mattiana is exceedingly steep, and facing nearly due south, very bare, stony, and barren; but when the higher portion of the ridge has been gained, the remainder of the road lies through beautiful forest, with much fine scenery--the earlier part steep and rocky, the remainder nearly level, till the last descent, and generally on the north face of the range. [sidenote: valley before mattiana. _august, ._] on our present journey, however, we took the usual road, which descends from mattiana to the valley immediately on the east, crosses it, and passes over a long spur on its eastern side, into another valley, the head of which is immediately below nagkanda, to which place the road ascends, at last very steeply. the ravine immediately below mattiana is crossed at an elevation probably a little above feet, as the trees of the temperate region, such as the holly-leaved and woolly oak, _andromeda_, and _rhododendron_, continue to the very bottom of the descent; and _pinus excelsa_ is common on the eastern slope, a little way above the stream, which descends very abruptly, like all the hill torrents near their sources, along a rocky channel, filled with large boulders. on the banks of the little stream there were a few trees of an _acacia_, common in the lower forests, which mr. bentham considers a hairy variety of the _albizzia julibrissin_ of western asia. i observed also a laurel, an olive, _rhus_, and the common toon (_cedrela toona_), all indicative of the commencement of a subtropical vegetation, which no doubt must be abundant on its banks a very few miles further down. few of the plants observed in the valley were different from those common around simla; a species of _caragana_, a leguminous genus abundant in siberia, and in the interior and more dry parts of the himalaya, was perhaps the most interesting. the ascent from the ravine was well wooded in its lower part with oak and pine. a few trees of a very handsome poplar (_p. ciliata_), a tall widely-branching large-leaved tree, occurred in its lower part, as did also _benthamia fragifera_, and a yew, apparently undistinguishable from the common european species. the upper part of the ascent was bare and grassy. the spur is a steep one, descending rapidly from the main range, and the road winding round its shoulder does not ascend beyond feet, but as soon as it has gained the eastern face continues nearly level, gradually approaching the centre of the valley, and winding along the hill-sides among numerous villages. the slopes are generally bare; here and there in the hollows or recesses along the lateral streamlets there is some very fine forest. [sidenote: cultivated valley. _august, ._] the appearance of this valley is considerably different from that of any of those nearer to the plains. the population is considerable, and collected into villages, some of which occupy the lower part of the valley, and are surrounded by a good deal of cultivation and numerous walnut and apricot trees, the latter of which are said, in autumn, frequently to tempt the bears from the forest, to indulge in what to them is a grateful feast. the ripening of the apricot in a valley, among forest, at an elevation of feet, indicates an undoubted diminution of the rain-fall. very little change, however, is observable in the wild vegetation till the upper part of the last steep ascent, when a number of species make their appearance which are strangers to the more external ranges. a species of hazel, as a tree, and _lappa_, _achillea_, _leonurus_, _cheiranthus_, and _rumex acetosa_, as herbaceous plants, may be mentioned as instances, as also a lax-paniculate _polygonum_, with elegant panicles of white honey-scented flowers. [sidenote: nagkanda. _august, ._] nagkanda bungalow, elevated feet above the level of the sea, is situated on a depression of the main range, where it has a direction from west to east. the ridge to the west, towards mattiana, is elevated little more than , feet, while to the east rises the peak of hattu to a height of , feet, by the determination of the trigonometrical survey. here the range has approached nearer to the sutlej, now distant only about twelve miles, than at any point since leaving simla. the valley of the sutlej being only feet above the level of the sea, while the mountains directly opposite rise to , feet, the scenery is of the grandest description. the river itself is nowhere visible, the descent being so abrupt at the bottom that the intervening spurs entirely conceal it. the northern slope of the ridge on which nagkanda stands, is occupied by a very deep valley, bounded by two long spurs, which run towards the sutlej. the whole of this valley is occupied by dense forest, a great part of which is pine, especially on the upper part of the deep receding bay which runs up nearly to the top of hattu, the sides of which are covered with a dense sombre forest of _picea webbiana_ (pindrow). [sidenote: ascent of hattu. _august, ._] on the th of august, a portion of our baggage, which had been left at fagu two days before, from a deficiency of porters, not having arrived at nagkanda, it became necessary to halt, in order to give it a chance of reaching us. the day was fortunately fine, and we availed ourselves of the opportunity to ascend hattu, captain strachey taking with him his barometers, to verify their accuracy by the trigonometrically determined height of this mountain, which was one of the stations of the himalayan survey by captain herbert. as the top of the mountain is only about feet above the nagkanda bungalow, and the distance is nearly five miles, the ascent is an easy one. the first mile is nearly level, and bare of wood on the ridge, though the forest on both sides rises within a few feet of the crest, which is bordered by brushwood. as soon as the ascent commences, the ridge becomes covered with forest, at first principally pine, spruce and silver fir (_picea_) being the principal species. yew is also very common, forming a fine tall tree, and the few non-coniferous trees are chiefly the alpine oak, sycamore, and cherry. the road, which at first ascends a western spur, by degrees winds round to the face of the mountain, and finally ascends to the summit from the east. the wood on the upper part is entirely oak, and more open than the pine forest lower down. the top of the mountain is steep and bare towards the east, for about five hundred feet, with precipitous rocks thirty or forty feet high towards the west, below which the slope is exceedingly steep and rocky in that direction. the continuation of the main range towards the east is at first lower than the peak of hattu some or feet, but rises again to another peak within a mile. a long spur or ridge to the south-west is, however, for nearly two miles, within a few feet of the same height as the summit of hattu, and rises at about that distance into a point, which probably rather exceeds it. it then sinks rapidly towards the giri river, the most easterly branch of which has its source in the ravine on the eastern face. [sidenote: top of hattu. _august, ._] on the top of hattu there are the remains of a square building, with very thick walls, i believe of native origin, and intended as a sort of fort, which, however, from the want of water, must have been quite untenable. it is now in ruins, its interior being filled with a wilderness of hemp, nettles, _galium aparine_, dock and other coarse plants. the grassy slopes of the summit are covered with a luxuriant herbage of _potentillæ_, _labiatæ_, _gentianaceæ_, _epilobium_, _polygonum_, and _anemone_, while a few stunted bushes of _quercus semicarpifolia_, a simple-leaved _pyrus_, and a willow, are the only shrubby vegetation. the forest, however, rises close to the base of the cliffs on the western face, and contains all the species common on the ascent of the mountain, the vegetation of the summit being in no respect peculiar, not even in early spring exhibiting any truly alpine plant. the mountain bamboo, a graceful small species of _arundinaria_, which is extremely abundant in the woods of the upper temperate and subalpine zones, adorns the rocky hollows close to the summit. [sidenote: view from hattu. _august, ._] in every direction except south, and along the ridge to the east, the view from the top of hattu is very extensive, as it overlooks all the peaks in the immediate vicinity. to the north the mountains of kulu, which separate the valley of the sutlej from that of the beas, and from the upper chenab, are most beautifully seen, their peaks rising above one another from west to east, till they enter the region of perpetual snow. towards the plains, in clear weather, the view must be superb; but in that direction there is so generally a hazy state of the atmosphere, that though i have ascended hattu four times, i have never been fortunate enough to obtain a favourable day. in looking back from the summit of hattu towards simla and the plains, it may be observed that the country is well wooded, though when viewed from simla or the heights of mahasu the same mountains had appeared almost bare. this diversity in the aspect of the country, according to the direction from which it is seen, is due to the ridges being well wooded on one face, and bare of trees on the other. the plainward face is never, except under very exceptional circumstances, at all wooded, while the northern and eastern slopes are generally covered with forest. probably the more direct influence of the sun, and the action of the strong winds which generally blow up the valleys towards the interior of the mountains, act in concurrence in drying the atmosphere, and checking the growth of trees on the southern and western faces of the ridges. the shrubby and herbaceous vegetation of hattu is exceedingly luxuriant. the more open glades of the forest are filled with an undergrowth of tall balsams, annual-stemmed _acanthaceæ_, _dipsacus_, _compositæ_ (among which the beautiful _calimeris_ is very abundant), while in the drier pine-forest a graceful little bamboo occurs, often to the exclusion of every other plant. it grows in dense tufts, eight or ten or even twelve feet high, the diameter of the stem not exceeding a quarter of an inch. the currant of the mahasu ridge is also common, with many of the same shrubs which are there abundant. the ridge close to nagkanda is much drier, and has fewer peculiar plants; the resemblance to the simla flora being there very remarkable. [sidenote: cultivation. _august, ._] on the southern slopes of this ridge, at elevations equal to that of nagkanda bungalow, and even higher, in some places as high as feet, there are considerable patches of cultivation. barley is probably the spring crop, but during the rains a good deal of buckwheat is cultivated. this plant will not thrive in the very humid regions, and is therefore indicative of a drier climate than that of simla; indeed, even the occurrence of cultivation at such an elevation, during the rainy season, satisfactorily proves the existence of a more moderate rain-fall and greater warmth than on the peaks nearer the plains, as for instance on the mahasu ridge, on which, except the potato, no cultivation whatever is attempted during the rains, though there are a few fields of wheat or barley in one spot as high as feet. [sidenote: descent towards the sutlej. _august, ._] [sidenote: shady ravine. _august, ._] our missing loads having arrived at nagkanda on the evening of the th of august, we resumed our journey on the morning of the th, marching to kotgarh, ten miles. at nagkanda we finally left the main range, and began to descend towards the valley of the sutlej, following, at the commencement of our journey, a spur which runs from immediately west of the bungalow directly towards the river. after about four miles we quitted this spur to descend into the valley on the right, after crossing which we ascended to kotgarh, situated on a long spur descending from the peak of hattu. the early part of the descent was very abrupt, through a forest of large pines, principally _p. excelsa_ and spruce (_abies smithiana_). some trees of the latter measured upwards of seventeen feet in circumference. sycamore and cherry were also common in the forest, and a good many trees of _corylus lacera_, the hazel of the north-west himalaya, were observed. the trees were festooned with the gigantic vine already noticed in the mahasu forest. after the first two hundred feet of descent, the forest was less dense, and chiefly pine. _rhododendron arboreum_ commenced about feet below nagkanda, and was soon followed by the holly-leaved oak, and a little lower by _q. incana_, the common hoary oak of simla; and by the time we had got down to feet, the vegetation was quite similar to that of simla. at a little below this elevation, the road leaves the crest of the ridge, which may be seen to continue in a northerly direction, partly bare and partly pine-clad, and descends rapidly to the bottom of the deep ravine on the right. soon after leaving the ridge we entered thick forest, and at the bottom of the ravine two considerable streams are crossed within a very short distance of one another, at an elevation of about feet, the lowest level to which we descended during the day's journey. along the banks of these streams, which have a considerable inclination of bed, the forest is very dense and shady. few of the trees are coniferous, nor do oaks in this part of the himalaya select such moist localities. _lauraceæ_ of several kinds, the horse-chesnut, alder, and hornbeam (_carpinus viminea_), with toon and _celtis_, are the prevailing trees. the streams which the road here crosses descend from different parts of the ridge of nagkanda. they occupy the bottom of deep ravines, and are in their whole course densely wooded. these ravines are, in their upper part especially, extremely steep and rocky, often with precipitous walls, and scarcely practicable even on foot. the denseness of the forest is principally due to their northern exposure, and to the consequent more equable temperature and greater humidity. they contain many trees not previously observed on the journey from simla, though all of them, i believe even the horse-chesnut, occur in the very similar steep rocky ravines below fagu. the alder is a common tree at - feet in the north-western himalaya, always in valleys and on the banks of streams. in this shady forest i collected a considerable number of plants which do not occur at simla. a scandent _hydrangea_, the loosely-adhering bark of which separates in long rolls like that of the birch, and is used as a substitute for paper, was seen twining round the trunks of trees. i observed also a fine _calanthe_, and abundance of _adenocaulon_, a remarkable genus of _compositæ_, which, till mr. edgeworth discovered a species in the himalaya, was only known as a native of south america. in the thickest part of the forest in this ravine, i was also fortunate enough to meet with a few specimens of _balanophora_, which here probably attains its western limit. all these plants are abundant forms in the most humid parts of nepal and sikkim, and their presence may, i think, be regarded as indicative of a more equable temperature throughout the year than prevails in the more open parts of the sutlej himalaya. the range of mountains on which nagkanda stands certainly intercepts a great deal of moisture during the rainy season, and therefore makes the valleys on its northern aspect less humid at that period of the year. this would appear to be more than counterbalanced by the effect of the dense forest in keeping up moisture and preventing radiation during winter, for the cold and dryness of that season seem to have a much greater effect in determining the cessation of the forms characteristic of the eastern himalaya, than the diminished rain-fall during the three months of the rainy season. [sidenote: kotgarh. _august, ._] after crossing the stream at the bottom of the valley, the road advances in a northerly direction, at first gradually ascending through fine shady woods, but afterwards, turning to the right, mounting rapidly by very abrupt zigzags, up a bare dry hill-side, to the kotgarh ridge. here we took up our quarters for the night, in a house the property of captain p. gerard, a little above the village of kotgarh, at an elevation of about feet, in a fine grove of _pinus excelsa_. kotgarh, a large village, and the seat of an establishment of missionaries, was at one time a military post, and is interesting to the himalayan traveller, from the fact of the detachment here stationed having been long commanded by one of the brothers gerard, whose labours in these mountains, geographical and meteorological, are so well known. it has, however, long been abandoned as a military station, the peaceable state of the hill population rendering it unnecessary to keep a garrison in these mountains. [sidenote: cultivation. _august, ._] captain gerard's house, in which we spent the night, is elevated several hundred feet above the upper part of the village of kotgarh, which occupies the steep face of the ridge directly overlooking the valley of the sutlej. one reach of the river is visible from the front of the house, and the deep roar of the rapid stream was distinctly audible, notwithstanding that we were still feet above it. on the morning of the th of august we resumed our journey, descending abruptly through the village of kotgarh to the sutlej. at first the pine-forest which surrounded our night quarters, accompanied us down the steep hill-side. it was intermixed with a few scattered deodars; and the shrubby and herbaceous vegetation was in all its features identical with that of simla. soon, however, the descent was on a bare hill-side, and after reaching the village, the road, inclining to the right or east, kept nearly level for about a mile, passing through much cultivation, in terraced fields on the slopes. the crops were _kodon_ (_eleusine coracana_) and a cylindrical-headed _panicum_, both grains commonly cultivated in the plains of india. there were also many fields of _amaranthus_ and _chenopodium_. the first of these is occasionally cultivated in all parts of the hills, its bright red inflorescence, in autumn, tinging with flame the bare mountain slopes. the _chenopodium_ was new to me as a cultivated grain, and is particularly interesting from its analogy with the quinoa of south america. it is entirely a rain crop, and grows very luxuriantly, rising to a height of six or eight feet, with a perfectly straight stout very succulent green stem, and large deltoid leaves, either pale green or of a reddish tinge, and covered with grey mealiness. the seeds, which are extremely small, are produced in great abundance on all the upper part of the plant, and are ripe in september. [sidenote: descent to the sutlej. _august, ._] for about a mile after leaving the village of kotgarh, the descent was trifling, but the remainder of the road to the sutlej was very steep, so that the change in the vegetation was sudden, commencing just at the point where _quercus incana_ disappeared; before which few plants indicating heat occurred. the want of wood, no doubt, assisted the rapidity of the change, for the heat soon became considerable. in the course of the descent, i noted all the new forms as they occurred; but the exact order in which each individual species makes its appearance, depends so much upon accidental and unimportant circumstances, and is so likely to be affected by errors of observation, unless many series are obtained in different aspects of the same slope, that it would lead to no advantage to enumerate the species as they were met with. nearly feet above the bed of the river, or at an elevation of about feet, the vegetation had become quite subtropical, species of _mollugo_, _polanisia_, _corchorus_, _leucas_, _euphorbia_, _microrhynchus_, and the ordinary grasses and _cyperaceæ_ of the plains, being the common weeds. the descent continued very abrupt, the heat increasing rapidly, till the road reached the bank of the sutlej, at the village of kepu, which occupies a flat piece of land overhanging the river. [sidenote: valley of the sutlej. _august, ._] having commenced our day's journey before daybreak, in order to complete the march before the extreme heat had commenced, we stopped here to breakfast, under the shade of a fine mango-tree. the neighbourhood of the village was well cultivated, with extensive rice-fields and a fine grove of tropical trees--mango, _ficus indica_ and _religiosa_, _melia azedarach_ and _azadirachta_, _grewia_, oranges, and plantains. our late residence in a cool climate made us feel the heat much, though the temperature at nine in the morning was not much more than °. after breakfast, we continued our journey up the valley, to nirt or nirat, a distance of six or seven miles, and next day we reached rampur, the capital of basehir, twelve miles further, and still in the sutlej valley. the district of basehir is an independent hill state, governed by a rajah, whose dominion also extends over kunawar; it commences a very little north of kotgarh, and occupies the south side of the river sutlej and the mountain slopes above it, as far east as the confines of kunawar. the valley of the sutlej, in the western part of basehir, from rampur downwards, has an elevation of little more than feet, rampur ( feet above the bed of the river) being feet above the level of the sea[ ]. the river, at the season of our journey, which was the height of the rains, at which time it is at its largest, is an impetuous torrent, of great size, but very variable in breadth, foaming along over a stony bed, with generally very precipitous rocky banks, and filled with large boulders. during the rainy season it is extremely muddy, almost milky, and deposits in tranquil parts of its course a considerable amount of white mud. the valley is generally very narrow, with steep bare hills on either side, quite devoid of trees and covered only with a few scattered bushes and long coarse grass. in the bays or recesses on the mountain-sides, between the terminations of the rocky spurs which descend to the river, the valley is often filled with a hard conglomerate rock, the cement of which is calcareous, evidently (geologically) of very recent origin. these patches of conglomerate are flat-topped, and often scarped towards the river, and are frequently feet and more in thickness. they differ in degree of consolidation only from ordinary alluvial deposit, so that they appear to owe their preservation from the denuding effects of river action, to the calcareous matter, which has cemented the pebbles and sand into a solid rock. [sidenote: vegetation. _august, ._] the road follows throughout the course of the river, rising sometimes - feet, to pass over rocky spurs; at other times it lies on the surface of the boulder conglomerate, and more rarely close to the river. here and there is a small village, with a few rice-fields, but the greater part of the valley is utterly sterile. like the valleys of the outer himalaya, that of the sutlej here exhibits a curious mixture of the ordinary vegetation of the plains, with forms which point out the mountainous nature of the country. the whole flora is strongly characteristic of a dry soil and an arid climate. the mountain ranges to the west and south, no doubt, intercept a good deal of rain; and the lofty mountains, - , feet in height, which, on the right and left, rise rapidly from the river, appropriate to themselves a great part of the moisture which reaches the valley. we may, therefore, in the absence of direct meteorological observations, infer, from the physical structure of the valley, and from the nature of its vegetation, that its climate is drier than that of the valleys at the base of the himalaya. the sutlej valley cannot, of course, be properly compared with the base of the mountains farther east, where luxuriant forest covers all the slopes; but when contrasted with the pinjor valley, or the low hills above kalka, it is only on a careful comparison that a difference is to be observed, and then, perhaps, more by the absence of forms abundant in them than by any marked addition of new ones. the ordinary shrubs of the sutlej, at feet, are _adhatoda vasica_, _carissa edulis_, _colebrookea_, _rottlera tinctoria_, and some species of _boehmeria_, all characteristic of the outer hills, and the two first common plains plants. the remarkable _euphorbia pentagona_ is also common. _butea_, _Ægle_, and _moringa_ do not occur, nor are there any bamboos. _flacourtia sepiaria_, _capparis sepiaria_, and _calotropis_, which are three of the commonest plants of the plains, were also not observed. a large white-flowered caper (_capparis obovata_, royle) and a glabrous _zizyphus_ were the most remarkable new forms. the herbaceous vegetation differed scarcely at all from that of the plains, consisting chiefly of species which, during the rainy season, spring up in the lightest and driest soils. mountain plants were only occasional, and mostly such as at simla descend on the dry grassy slopes into the valleys: a berberry and bramble (_rubus flavus_), _plectranthus rugosus_, which is a grey and dusty-looking shrub, _melissa umbrosa_, _micromeria biflora_, a little _geranium_, _ajuga parviflora_, a _galium_, _senecio_, _aplotaxis candicans_, and one or two _umbelliferæ_. they did not, however, amount to a twentieth part of the whole vegetation, and the aspect of the flora was quite subtropical. a little _eriophorum_, which is everywhere common in arid places at the base of the himalaya, from assam to the indus, was frequent in the crevices of the rocks. ferns were very scarce, only two or three being observed. [sidenote: rampur. _august, ._] the town of rampur is a considerable place, on a small level tract of ground, about a hundred feet above the bed of the river sutlej, which it overhangs. the houses are substantially built, in the form of a square, with an open space in the centre; they are mostly one-storied, and have steeply-sloping slated roofs. the town has a good deal of trade with tibet, principally in shawl wool, and is the seat of a small manufacture of white soft shawl-cloths. the river is here crossed by a rope suspension-bridge, of a kind very common in the lower valleys, which has often been described. it consists of nine stout ropes, which are stretched from one side of the river to the other. the width of the sutlej at the bridge, according to captain gerard, by whom it was measured, is feet. during our stay at rampur, major cunningham directed my attention to the alteration of the level of the river at different periods of the day, from the variable amount of solar action on the snows by which it is fed. this effect he had noticed on his former visit to the mountains, and we had frequent opportunities of observing it during our journey. at rampur the diurnal variation was not less than three or four feet, the maximum being, i believe, during the night or early in the morning. in the immediate vicinity of snow, the streams are highest in the afternoon, but as the distance increases the period of greatest height becomes by degrees later and later. except on our two first days' journey, we had been extremely fortunate in weather since leaving simla. the day of the th was very cloudy and oppressive, and the th, on which we remained stationary at rampur to make arrangements with the rajah for our further progress through basehir and kunawar, was rainy throughout. the rain, however, was light, and did not prevent the rajah from visiting us in the afternoon, impelled, i suppose, by a desire to see our apparatus and arrangements for travelling. we were lodged in an excellent upper-roomed house of his, overhanging the sutlej, and not far from his own residence, which lies at the east end of the town, and externally is quite without beauty, presenting to view nothing but a mass of dead walls. the rajah seldom remains during the hot season at rampur, as he has a second residence at serahan, twenty miles up the river, and feet above the level of the sea, in which he usually spends the summer, though during , for some reason or other, he remained during the greater part of the year at rampur. [sidenote: ancient river-channel. _august, ._] on the morning of the th of august we resumed our journey. our direction still lay up the valley of the sutlej, and for the first three miles the road kept parallel to the river, ascending occasionally a few hundred feet to cross spurs, when the immediate margin of the sutlej was too rocky and precipitous to allow of a passage. this was not unfrequently the case, and after a few miles the river-bank became so rugged and difficult, that the road left it, to ascend a long ridge, descending from the mountain range to the south. the early part of the road, from the many views of the river rushing over its rocky bed, often among immense boulders, and from the general boldness of the mountain scenery, was, though bare of forest, very striking. frequently the road overhung the river, which ran through a narrow rocky ravine many hundred feet below. at other times, it lay over the surface of the flat platforms which occupied the valley, and in several places curious excavations were noticed on the rocky surface, as if the river had formerly flowed over higher levels. one of these ancient channels was so very remarkable, that it could not be overlooked. the rocky banks on either side were at least a hundred feet apart, and the large water-worn boulders, with occasional rugged pointed rocks which filled the bed, conveyed unmistakeably the conviction that we were walking over an ancient river-bed, though the elevation could not be less than feet above the present level of the river. [sidenote: ascent towards gaora. _august, ._] three miles from rampur the road began to ascend a long spur in a south-east direction. after we had ascended a few hundred feet, the course of the river could be seen on the left among precipitous rocks, quite impracticable. the ascent was through a well-cultivated tract, the base of the hill and lower slopes being covered with fields of rice, still only a few inches high. the road ascended rapidly, through villages with numerous fruit-trees. at first, the vegetation continued the same as in the valley, and the hills were bare, except close to the village. within a thousand feet of the base, the cultivation ceased, and the road entered a wood of scattered firs, mixed after a little with the common oak (_q. incana_). at about feet the steep lateral spur joined the ridge, and the road turned to the eastward, and continued along the steep sides of the ridge, which overhang the valley of the river feet below. the sutlej was well seen, running among bare rocky hills, the pine-wood being confined to the upper parts of the steep slopes. had we continued our course along this ridge, it would in time have conducted us to the crest of the main range south of the sutlej, the same which we had left at nagkanda to descend into the sutlej valley. it would have been necessary for this purpose to ascend to a height of between , and , feet, and to proceed to a considerable distance south; our object, however, being to keep along the river as nearly as possible, it would not have suited our purpose to ascend so far, and the road only left the banks of the sutlej on account of the difficult nature of the ground in the bottom of the valley. we found, therefore, after continuing a mile or two on the steep slope of the ridge, that the road again began to descend, not exactly towards the sutlej, but to the bottom of the ravine or dell, by which the spur on which we had ascended was separated from that next in succession to it. [sidenote: gaora. _august, ._] as far as the beginning of the descent the hill-side had been bare, or only clothed with scattered pine-wood, but as soon as the eastern slope was gained, and the descent commenced, the slopes became well wooded with _rhododendron_ and oak. the descent was probably not more than feet, perhaps scarcely so much, as the ravine sloped very abruptly to the sutlej; on the lower part of the descent, and on the bank of the stream, the wood was principally alder, and a few subtropical grasses and _cyperaceæ_ marked the commencement of the vegetation of the lower region, while a valerian, a _hieracium_, a species of _datisca_, and an _arundo_ or allied grass, were the new species of plants observed; of these, perhaps the _datisca_ alone markedly indicated an approach to the interior himalaya. after crossing the ravine the road ascended abruptly up a well-wooded slope, on the northern face of a steep spur, to the village of gaora, at which, for the first time since leaving simla, we encamped, no house being available for our accommodation. the morning had been fair, though dull, but soon after our arrival at gaora it began to rain, and continued to do so all the afternoon. gaora is situated, according to captain gerard, about feet above rampur; but from the appearance of the vegetation, and a comparison with known heights on both hands, we estimated the elevation of our encampment to be not more than feet, so that probably captain gerard's observations refer to some more elevated point. [sidenote: manglÂd valley. _august, ._] on resuming our journey on the morning of the th of august, we continued the ascent of the spur on which the village of gaora is situated, which is well wooded with the ordinary trees of the temperate zone of the himalaya. there were a few rice-fields on the hill-side on cleared places above feet, and some orange-trees in the villages at about the same elevation; from both of which facts, more sun-heat and less rain during summer may be inferred, than in similar elevations on the outer himalaya, where neither rice nor oranges occur so high. a little way higher up, the forest changed its character, the holly-leaved oak, the deodar, and the spruce, being the common trees, among which the road continued for four or five miles, without much change of level, when the forest ceased, and the road, after continuing for a short time at about the same level, descended abruptly to the ravine of the manglâd river, a considerable stream, now swollen into a furious torrent, which rushed with impetuosity down its steep rocky bed. a great part of the descent was bare, over crumbling mica-slate rocks. the vegetation in the bottom of the glen showed, as on former occasions, indications of a low elevation, but presented no novelty, except in the occurrence of _melia azedarach_, apparently wild. i have occasionally noticed this tree in the interior of the himalaya, always at an elevation of between and feet, and invariably in the drier valleys of the mountains, but it is so commonly cultivated in india, that its occurrence can scarcely be regarded as a proof of its being indigenous, especially if we consider that it is a rare circumstance to find it in even an apparently wild state. i do not, however, know that it has a greater claim to be considered a native of any part of the world. [sidenote: serahan. _august, ._] the ascent on the east side was long, steep, and fatiguing, up well-wooded slopes. at about feet, a single tree of _hippophaë conferta_, with nearly ripe fruit, was observed near a spring, and a few hundred feet higher the road gained the ridge, and continued for a mile and a half of very gentle ascent, on a broad, nearly level mountain-side, to serahan, through beautiful forest of oak and pine. serahan, the summer residence of the basehir rajah, is pleasantly situated at an elevation of feet above the level of the sea, on the northern slope of the mountain range, surrounded on all sides by pine-forest. the village is small, and occupies the lower margin of an open glade of considerable extent, on which there is a good deal of cultivation, of the same plants as i have noted at kotgarh. the latter part of our march had been through heavy rain, which continued all the evening, and the greater part of the night, but we were fortunate enough to find an empty house, capable of sheltering our servants and baggage, as well as ourselves. besides the _hippophaë_, which i noted on the ascent from manglâd, several plants appeared on this day's journey, which served to chronicle a gradual alteration in the flora, notwithstanding that the forest-trees and general character continued generally the same. of these, the most interesting, by far, was a plant discovered by mr. edgeworth, in the same tract of country, and by him described as _oxybaphus himalayanus_, a species of a genus otherwise entirely south american. it is a rank-growing, coarse, herbaceous plant, with tumid joints, and a straggling dichotomous habit, and has small pink or rose-coloured flowers, covered with a viscid exudation. it grows in open pastures and in waste places near villages, and is an abundant species throughout the kunawar valley. [sidenote: tranda. _august, ._] on the morning of the th of august we marched to tranda, along the mountain-side, winding a little with its sinuations, and occasionally descending to cross the little streamlets which furrow its side, and separate the lateral ridges from one another. the road lay through beautiful forest, and as the day was fine we obtained at intervals a succession of superb views, of the deep and well-wooded valleys below, and the rugged mountains north of the sutlej. the forest-trees were still the hoary and holly-leaved oak, with deodar and spruce, though in the more shady woods along the streams, the horse-chesnut, and a fine glaucous-leaved laurel, were common. the shrubby and herbaceous vegetation was in general character the same as in the denser woods of simla, the new species being still quite exceptional. it soon became necessary to descend, in order to gain a place on the next range in succession to the eastward, so as not to leave the river at too great a distance. forest continued to the bottom of the descent, which showed no signs of tropical vegetation, and was therefore not to so low a level as those of previous days. the remainder of the day's journey consisted of a succession of ascents and descents, mostly long and fatiguing, with occasionally half a mile nearly level. many of the steeper parts were very rocky and rugged, so difficult that artificial steps were required to make them practicable, and even with their aid a horse could scarcely pass. the greater part of the road lay through forest, and two considerable streams were crossed besides the one on the early part of the march. from the last of these a long and very laborious ascent led to the crest of the tranda ridge, on the very top of which we halted for the night in a log hut, built for the accommodation of travellers, in the midst of a fine forest of deodar-trees. the tranda ridge has, till near its termination, an elevation of upwards of feet, and projects boldly forward towards the sutlej, dipping at last extremely abruptly to the river. the sutlej is here thrown to the north, in a sharp bend, and runs through a deep gloomy ravine. this ridge, therefore, more lofty and abrupt than any farther west, is considered as the commencement of kunawar; and the valley to the eastward, as far as the wangtu bridge, is generally called lower kunawar, to distinguish it from the upper and drier parts of that district. the rise of the bed of the river is so gradual, that the transition of climate takes place at first by almost insensible gradations; but as soon as the spurs retain a height of feet till close to the sutlej, they exercise a powerful influence upon the climate, and the vegetation and physical aspect of the country change with great rapidity. footnotes: [ ] journal of agr. hort. soc. calc. vol. iv. [ ] gerard's 'koonawur,' appendix, table . chapter iii. sildang river -- fine grove of deodars -- nachar -- fruit-trees -- vine seen for first time -- boundaries of kulu and kunawar -- cross sutlej at wangtu bridge -- vegetation of bare rocky valley -- waterfall -- chegaon -- _pinus gerardiana_ -- miru -- absence of rain -- alteration of vegetation -- _quercus ilex_ -- rogi -- willow and poplar -- chini -- cultivated plain -- kashbir -- pangi -- camp at upper level of trees -- junipers -- werang pass -- alpine vegetation -- birch and _rhododendron_ -- granite boulders -- lipa -- alluvial deposits -- encamp at , feet -- runang pass -- vegetation very scanty -- stunted forest -- sungnam. [sidenote: sildang valley. _august, ._] the night we spent at tranda was stormy, with thunder and heavy showers of rain, but the morning of the th was bright and beautiful, enabling us to see from our elevated position on the ridge, a single snow-peak, far to the eastward, in kunawar. at the commencement of the day's march, the road receded from the sutlej into a deep mountain bay, densely wooded with deodar and pine (_pinus excelsa_). a few trees only of spruce and horse-chesnut occurred. after a mile, passing round a projecting spur, a fine view was obtained of the river sutlej at the bottom of a deep ravine, and of the mountain range north of the river, now in several places covered with heavy snow. a little farther on, the road descended very abruptly along the face of rugged and precipitous rocks, to the valley of the sildang river, a large stream which was crossed in two branches by two very indifferent wooden bridges. the sildang valley, at the point where the road crosses it, has been stated by gerard to be elevated feet above the level of the sea. it is a larger stream than any of those yet crossed since leaving rampur, and its ravine is beautifully wooded. the ascent to the east was gentle, through woods of oak and pine, and after rising a few hundred feet, the road continued nearly level for some miles, with the sutlej in sight below. a large village was passed on the latter part of the march, with many temples evidently of old date, and situated in a grove of very large deodar-trees, several of which were upwards of twenty feet in circumference. one large tree with a flattened trunk, as if formed by the union of two, measured, at five feet from the base, thirty-five and a-half feet round. this grove was evidently of great age, and probably consisted of old trees, at the time the village was founded, and the temples were built under its sacred shade. nachar, at which we took up our quarters for the night, is a very large village, by far the most considerable yet passed, with many good houses, much cultivated land, and great numbers of fine fruit-trees. walnuts, peaches, apricots, and mulberries, were all common; and i saw one grape-vine, which bore a good many bunches of fruit. the crops cultivated were chiefly millet and buckwheat, with a good many fields of _amaranthus_ and _chenopodium_. the fruit-trees were evidently, from their numbers and luxuriance, a very valuable part of the possessions of the inhabitants; and it was very interesting to meet with the vine, though only in small quantity, and evidently not yet in a thoroughly suitable climate. the elevation of the village, which occupied a great extent of the hill-side sloping down towards the sutlej, now close at hand, was nearly feet. [sidenote: eastern boundary of kulu. _august, ._] nearly opposite nachar, the district of kunawar, which had hitherto been confined to the south bank of the sutlej, extends to both sides of the river; the province of kulu, which had hitherto occupied the northern bank, being bounded on the east by the mountain-chain which separates the waters of the beas river from those of the piti, a tributary of the sutlej. by this very lofty chain, the villages on the north side of the sutlej, to the east of the point now reached, are entirely cut off from the valley of the beas, and naturally become connected with the district immediately opposite to them, with which alone they have an easy communication. kulu, till the campaign of , had belonged to the punjab; but one of the results of the sikh war, in that year, was the transfer of that district to british rule, so that the sutlej, in its lower course, no longer served as a boundary between hostile states. in kunawar, the north side of the river is the most important, because it is more populous and fertile than the south, not only from its more favourable exposure, but because the chain to the south of the sutlej continues to increase in elevation as it proceeds eastward, while that on the north becomes gradually lower as it advances towards the confluence of the sutlej and piti rivers. [sidenote: descent towards the sutlej. _august, ._] for this reason the main road or highway through kunawar crosses to the right bank of the sutlej, a short way above nachar. at starting, therefore, on the morning of the th of august, we began to descend towards the river. for about a mile and a half the descent was very gentle, through a good deal of cultivation. there were many fruit-trees, but very little natural wood; a few horse-chesnut trees were observed, and occasionally a scattered deodar, spruce, or pine. on the earlier part of the road the pines were _p. excelsa_, but lower down that tree gave place to _p. longifolia_. after a mile and a half, the descent became more rapid, over a rocky and bad road, which continued to the bridge, distant three miles from nachar. on the bare, arid, and rocky hills between nachar and the river, several very striking novelties were observed in the vegetation; but as the road had for several days been at a higher level, and generally among dense forest, it is not improbable that many of these new plants may occur on the lower parts of the hills, in the immediate vicinity of the river, further to the westward. the new species were in all about six in number, of which three--two species of _daphne_ and an olive--were very abundant, and therefore prominent features in the appearance of the country. [sidenote: wangtu bridge. _august, ._] at the point where the bridge has been thrown across, the river sutlej has an elevation, by the determination of captain gerard, of feet above the level of the sea. its bed and the banks on both sides are very rocky and bare, and the width of the stream not more than seventy feet. the bridge is of that kind called by the mountaineers _sanga_, which means a wooden bridge or bridge of planks, contrasted with _jhula_, a rope-bridge. on the left bank the pier of the bridge is formed by an isolated rock, separated from the rocky banks by an ancient bed of the river, now quite dry, but worn smooth by the action of the current. this former channel is stated by gerard to have been blocked up by a fall of rocks from above; previous to which occurrence, the isolated rock must have stood as an island in the centre of the stream. the construction of the bridge is singular, but simple, and only adapted for very little traffic. six stout trunks of trees are laid alongside of one another on the pier, so that the end towards the river is a little higher than the other; above these are placed in succession two similar layers of trunks, each projecting several feet beyond the one below it, and the whole of these are kept in position by a substantial stone building, through which the roadway runs. a similar structure on the opposite bank narrows the distance to be spanned, at the same time that it affords support to the central portion of the bridge, which consists of two strong pine-trees fifty feet in length, placed about two feet apart, and supporting stout cross planking. the whole forms a bridge quite strong enough to support foot-passengers or lightly laden horses, the only purpose for which it is required. [sidenote: waterfall. _august, ._] in spite of the considerable elevation which the sutlej valley had now acquired, a number of plants of tropical character occurred in the neighbourhood of the wangtu bridge. these were mostly common grasses and _cyperaceæ_, _polycarpæa corymbosa_, _achyranthes aspera_, and a few other species, all common mountain-plants at low elevations, which here, from the great heat caused by the lessened rain and the concentration of the sun's rays, at the bottom of a deep bare valley, surmounted on both sides by mountains , feet above its level, enjoy a congenial climate. they are, however, confined to the most exposed places, and to the lower levels only. a few rugged pine-trees are scattered on the steep rocks, both _pinus excelsa_, which does not descend quite to the base of the hills, and _pinus longifolia_, which has here reached nearly its eastern limits, the elevation of the river-bed soon becoming greater than that at which it will grow. close to the wangtu bridge, on the right bank, a considerable stream joins the sutlej from the north, and is crossed by the road not far from its junction with the great river. the lower part of this tributary exhibits a succession of fine rapids and a waterfall, now much swollen by the melting of the snow; and which, notwithstanding the want of trees and consequent bareness of the accessories, formed a picture such as often greets the eye of the traveller in the alpine districts of himalaya, but which no amount of repetition renders less grand and magnificent. captain gerard has, in his little 'tour in kunawar,' described this torrent in strong language, which showed that he felt the beauty of the scene. for this he has been condemned by jacquemont, who sneeringly says that he describes it "comme si c'était le niagara," an expression which induced me to turn on the spot to gerard's book, so that i can testify to the accuracy and absence of exaggeration of his description. after crossing this stream, the road ascends the spur which runs parallel to it, to an elevation of about feet above the sutlej, but only to descend again to its banks, the ascent being caused by the impracticable nature of the rocky banks of the river. the spur was bare of trees, but with scattered brushwood, in which the olive and white _daphne_, observed on the descent from nachar, still abounded, with several other novelties, among which a _clematis_, _silene_, _stellaria_, and _selaginella_, all previously-described kunawar species, were the most remarkable. several of the grasses of the plains of india, such as a _panicum_ (perhaps _p. paludosum_), _eleusine indica_, and _heteropogon contortus_, occurred on the hot dry pastures among the rocks, up to above feet. the rock was everywhere gneiss, but varied much in appearance and texture, and contained many granite veins. [sidenote: chegaon. _august, ._] after regaining the river, the road ran along its bank, or on low spurs not more than a few hundred feet above it, through a dry treeless tract, till about two miles from the end of the day's journey, when a long steep ascent led to chegaon, a large village situated on a stream with steep rocky banks, the houses as usual being surrounded with fruit-trees. here we encamped after a march of at least fourteen miles, at an elevation of feet above the level of the sea, or nearly feet above the valley of the sutlej. [sidenote: gerard's pine. _august, ._] next day our journey was a short one, not more than five and a half miles, to the village of miru. it began by a rapid ascent for two miles to the crest of the ridge, advancing all the time towards the sutlej, which wound round the base of the steep spur feet below. the ascent was bare (as the slopes facing the west generally are), and the hill-side almost precipitous; but as soon as the crest of the ridge, at an elevation of about feet, had been gained, scattered trees appeared of a species not previously seen. this was _p. gerardiana_, the pine of kunawar and the other dry regions of the western himalaya, from the back parts of garhwal (where it has been seen by dr. jameson) to the valleys of the upper chenab. the first trees met with were small, and in appearance quite distinct from _p. longifolia_ and _excelsa_, being more compact, with much shorter leaves and a very peculiar bark, falling off in large patches, so as to leave the trunk nearly smooth. [sidenote: miru. _august, ._] beyond the crest of the ridge, from which the view into the sutlej valley, and towards the mountains across the river, was superb, the road on the east slope again receded from the river, entering an oak-wood, through which it continued nearly level for more than a mile, but soon began to descend slightly towards the stream, which ran at the bottom of a deep ravine, down to which the road plunged abruptly, to ascend again as steeply on the other side; after which a steep ascent of upwards of a mile led to miru, a large village in which we encamped, at an elevation of feet. at this delightful elevation, in a climate where the periodical rains of the himalaya are scarcely felt, embosomed in extensive orchards of luxuriant fruit-trees, and facing the south, so that it has the full benefit of the sun's rays to mature its grain-crops, miru is one of the most delightful villages of kunawar, being rivalled only by rogi and chini, beyond which the climate becomes too arid for beauty. the crops at miru, both of grain and fruit, were most luxuriant, and the vine thrives to perfection. the principal vineyards, however, are lower down, at elevations of between and feet, at which level the sun has more power in autumn to ripen the grape. the scenery around miru is indescribably beautiful, as it almost overhangs the sutlej feet below, while beyond the river the mountain-slopes are densely wooded, yet often rocky and with every variation of form. a single peak, still streaked with snow, but too steep for much to lie, rises almost due opposite; behind which the summits of the chain south of the sutlej rise to an elevation of upwards of , feet. at miru we found that we had completely left the rainy region of the mountains, and henceforward the weather continued beautiful. the change had been very gradual. at serahan we had heavy rain; a rainy night at tranda was succeeded by a brilliant day, till the afternoon, when it rained smartly for an hour. the next day was again fine, and at miru, though the afternoon was cloudy, and a heavy storm was visible among the mountains across the sutlej, only a few drops of rain fell. the transition from a rainy to a dry climate had thus been apparently very sudden, four days having brought us from serahan, where the periodical rains were falling heavily, to a place at which there were only light showers. this was in part, of course, accident. fine weather may, perhaps, have set-in in the interval in all parts of the mountains. in very rainy seasons, when the rain-fall in the outer himalaya is considerably above the mean, heavy showers extend into kunawar, at least as far as chini; and careful meteorological observations would probably show that the transition of climate is a very gradual one, the snowy mountains and the great spurs which run towards the sutlej collecting and condensing, as they increase in elevation, more and more of the moisture which is brought by the south-east winds from the bay of bengal. [sidenote: vegetation of kunawar. _august, ._] jacquemont, in the valuable journal of his tour in india, which has been published by the french government, has observed that the passage of the ridge between chegaon and miru may be considered as producing a marked change in the vegetation. this change, as we have seen during our journey up the sutlej, had long been going on, though very gradually and almost insensibly. several circumstances combine to make the transition appear at this point more sudden than a careful calculation of the number of new species will prove to be the case. it is the first wooded ridge on the north side of the sutlej over which the road passes, and it rises higher than any other part of the route east of nagkanda. a considerable effect is also produced by several new arboreous or shrubby species making their appearance, as well as by the fact that the new forms, which day by day have insensibly been increasing in number, have at last begun to form a prominent feature in the country. i find among my notes a list of all the species of plants which came under my observation during the walk from chegaon to miru. their number is rather above species, of which number about are common simla plants. of the remaining thirty, eleven were quite new to me, ten had occurred only the day before, and nine had been common for some days past. these numbers convey a very different idea of the amount of change from that produced at the time, but the latter must be admitted to be very fallacious, the eye of the botanist being so naturally attracted by novelty, to the utter disregard of what is common, that it is difficult to preserve the degree of attention requisite to observe properly. [sidenote: quercus ilex. _august, ._] _pinus gerardiana_ produces a very large cone, containing, like the stone-pine of europe, eatable nuts, of an elongated oblong form, which, when roasted like chesnuts, are agreeable to the taste, though with a little flavour of turpentine. this tree has been repeatedly tried in the rainy districts of the himalaya, but will not succeed, a dry climate being essential to it. besides gerard's pine, a new species of oak was the most conspicuous tree, forming a thick dry wood on western exposures. this oak, the only species of the genus which grows in the interior of kunawar, is the _quercus ilex_. the specimens which i collected quite agree with the european plant, and belong to that form of the evergreen oak, which has been called _q. ballota_. the same tree is common in some parts of affghanistan, where it is called _balút_. a small graceful ash was also common, and species of _stellaria_, _lychnis_, _dianthus_, _herniaria_, _cruciferæ_, _senecio_, and _valeriana_, which, with several _chenopodiaceæ_ and _artemisiæ_, were the new species observed. [sidenote: view of the sutlej. _august, ._] on the morning of the th of august, we proceeded to rogi, eight and a half miles. on leaving miru the road at first ascended gradually through a pretty wood of deodar and gerard's pine. the common pear-tree of the himalaya, and many of the more ordinary simla shrubs, species of _desmodium_, _indigofera_, _spiræa_, _buddleia_, and _plectranthus_, were common under the shade of the pine-forest. as the elevation increased, the trees gradually diminished in number, and the road continued to rise along the side of a rocky hill, with only a few scattered deodars. a very pretty reach of the sutlej now came into sight. the river was broader than usual, and seemed to flow with a gentle stream along an even bed, without interruption from rocks. opposite the junction of the miru tributary, which was in sight at the end of the reach, the sutlej was particularly wide, and its channel was divided into several branches, which enclosed a number of gravelly islands, immediately beyond which the stream again contracted in width, and resumed its usual rocky character. from the top of the steep ascent, which must have exceeded feet in elevation, the road continued along the side of the hill, without much change of level. the slopes were nearly bare, a few trees of the deodar and gerard's pine only occurring occasionally. the latter tree was more common, and larger than the day before. it is a compact small tree, with much-twisted ascending branches, and a mottled grey bark, quite smooth from the decortication of the outer layers. it bore abundance of large pendulous cones, the size of a small pine-apple, still quite green. [sidenote: burang pass. _august, ._] a little more than two miles from miru, the road descended to pass a stream, which was crossed in two branches. immediately afterwards another long ascent commenced, at first steep and bare, with a western exposure, then more gradual through an open wood of deodar and _pinus excelsa_. the highest elevation attained was almost , feet, and close to the summit a most superb view was seen to the south. the valley of the sutlej was not in sight, but the whole course of the baspa, except its junction with the sutlej, and a great extent of fine snowy range beyond, were beautifully seen. the burang or borendo pass, elevated , feet, which leads from the baspa valley to the upper part of the pabar or tons river, a branch of the jumna, was very conspicuous, with many large patches of grey dirty-looking snow on the hills near it, but its summit seemingly bare. at the highest elevation attained the face of the hill was a mass of precipitous rocks. a fine peak, which had long been visible across the sutlej, was now almost opposite. this mountain, the termination of the range to the east of the baspa river, when viewed from the west and north-west, has the appearance of a vast precipice, rocky and bare of trees, commencing within little more than a thousand feet of the sutlej. the north-east face, which comes into view for the first time from the heights above miru, is covered throughout with magnificent forest, rising to an elevation considerably higher than that at which i stood. [sidenote: vegetation. _august, ._] the elevation we had now attained was higher than any previous part of our journey, being feet above the peak of hattu. a cold westerly wind was blowing up the valley of the sutlej, evidently bringing a good deal of moisture along with it, for thin wreaths of mist were occasionally condensed, for a few minutes obscuring the distant view, and then melting again into transparent vapour. the vegetation was less different from that below, than i had expected, and much more luxuriant than i could have supposed, with nothing of an alpine character. many of the species were identical with those of nagkanda and the crest of hattu; but there was no bamboo, nor any of the _acanthaceæ_, so common in the more shady and humid forest further east. balsams, however, were abundant and large, _potentillæ_, _salvia nubicola_, and _nepetæ_, _polygona_, _achilleæ_, _gnaphalia_, and several species of _pedicularis_ and _ophelia_, formed a thick and rank growth. the most remarkable forms observed were astragaline, of which several species, one a spinous _caragana_, were abundant. a pretty little _veronica_ and _bupleurum_, and several new _cichoraceæ_, were also collected, as well as an _orobanche_, parasitical upon the roots of the common thyme (_thymus serpyllum_). [sidenote: rogi. _august, ._] from the crest, the remainder of the road consists of a succession of short ascents and descents, along the face of a very rocky hill, till within a mile of rogi, when it descends very abruptly down the side of a rugged ravine to that village, which, though elevated feet, lies low down on the mountain-side, and has the appearance of being in a hollow. at rogi we found the grapes quite ripe, and extremely abundant, but all from vineyards at lower levels. the commonest grape is globular, and of a deep, nearly black colour; but many varieties are cultivated. the apricots were also ripe, and had been gathered from the trees. the flat tops of the houses were now covered with them, drying in the sun. they are split up the middle and dried, the stones being taken out. in this state they keep well, and form a considerable article of export to india. peach and walnut trees are also common at rogi, and i saw a few apple-trees. a species of willow, which, in shape of leaf and general appearance, closely resembles a common english willow (_salix alba_), is commonly planted along with a glabrous poplar, a small, rather spreading tree, which is frequent throughout tibet, and seems to be the balsam poplar of siberia and north america. the english henbane (_hyoscyamus niger_) abounds in waste places. this also is a common tibetan plant, and extends into the drier valleys of the himalaya, such as kunawar and kashmir, but not into the outer mountains, where the periodical rains are heavy. on the th of august we proceeded to pangi, nine miles farther, passing on the road the village of chini, the largest inhabited place and most fertile tract of kunawar, of which it may therefore be considered the capital. from rogi we had to make a considerable ascent to regain the road, that village lying lower than the direct route from miru. the ascent lay first through the cultivated lands of the village, and afterwards through open wood. after regaining the road, the ascent continued through a gloomy forest of large deodar-trees for about a mile, terminating at about , feet of elevation, at which height, turning round a corner on the crest of the ridge, we found ourselves on the upper part of a precipitous cliff, which descends sheer down to the sutlej. unfortunately the morning was very misty, a dense fog, condensed from the steadily blowing west wind, enveloping everything, till after ten o'clock, by which time we had long passed the precipitous part of the road. we were told, however, that the cliff was absolutely impracticable below, and, indeed, even where we passed, no little engineering skill was displayed, as the road led along the face of an absolute precipice, on ledges scarcely three feet broad, or just as often over wooden planking, supported at intervals by large upright pieces of timber, whose resting-places were invisible in the dense mist by which we were surrounded. [sidenote: chini. _august, ._] as soon as this rocky projection was passed, the road descended rapidly, but over good level ground for half a mile, through a forest of deodar, in which some of the trees were of large size, one of them measuring nineteen feet eight inches in circumference. at the bottom of this descent, after passing a projecting rocky ridge, the village of chini came in sight, straggling along the side of a sloping hill. chini occupies the most level, and therefore the most fertile, valley in kunawar. the village is prettily situated among deodar-trees, while below, and on either side of it, the slopes are disposed in a succession of terraces, some of them of considerable extent, richly cultivated with wheat, barley, and buckwheat. through this fertile tract, the road was quite level, winding among the stone enclosures of the fields, and often bordered on both sides by grassy pastures, or patches of beautiful green turf, where the little rills, which served to irrigate the fields, had overflowed their banks, and converted the flat land into swampy meadows. near chini, we passed a single vineyard of small extent, at an elevation of feet, the fruit still quite unripe, though for several days we had been plentifully supplied with ripe grapes from the lower vineyards. the vines are supported by erect poles, about four feet high, placed about three feet apart, and connected by horizontal ones laid across them, on which the vines twine. [sidenote: kashbir. _august, ._] a little further we passed the small village of kashbir, consisting of two or three houses only; beyond which a pleasant forest of deodar and gerard's pine was entered, quite dry, and almost devoid of undergrowth; a few bushes of _daphne_, occasionally a small ash-tree, two or three stunted oaks, and quantities of withered grass and dried-up _artemisia_, being the only plants observed. everything looked arid, notwithstanding the eastern exposure, and showed strikingly the rapid change of climate which was taking place. some of the trees of _pinus gerardiana_, which seemed to thrive more in this arid wood than further west, were between fifty and sixty feet in height, and one of the largest of them which i noticed was nearly twelve feet in circumference. through this forest the road continued nearly level, till it reached a ravine, on the opposite bank of which was situated the village of pangi. a very steep descent of half a mile brought us to the stream; and an ascent of more than a mile, in the course of which we rose about feet vertically, terminated the day's journey. pangi is a large village, feet above the level of the sea, with much cultivation and magnificent orchards of apricots, peaches, and walnuts. [sidenote: pangi. _august, ._] from chegaon to pangi we had passed through the finest and most fertile part of kunawar, which is, however, by no means confined to the north bank of the sutlej; many large villages having been seen on the opposite side of the valley, with almost as much cultivation as those through which we had passed. the communication across the sutlej is kept up by paths which lead through the lower cultivation and vineyards to the bank of the river, which is spanned in several places by rope-bridges, one of which only, we saw at a distance. during these three days' journey, the weather was most beautiful, and we could never sufficiently admire the ever-changing beauties of the scenery, which, probably, for variety and magnificence, is nowhere surpassed. the great peak of raldang, a culminating point of the south sutlej himalaya, lies nearly opposite to chini, and, from a great part of the kunawar valley, is a prominent feature from almost every point of view. it forms a rugged rocky mass, and the ravines on its slopes are filled with large masses of snow, the lowest beds at this season of a dirty grey colour, and evidently still rapidly receding under the influence of the powerful autumn sun. no glaciers were anywhere in sight. we were now about to enter upon a very troublesome part of our journey, the crossing of the various ridges which are given off by the mountain range north of the sutlej, at the great bend of that river where it is joined by the almost equally large piti river, from the north. these long ranges, given off by an axis , feet in height, slope at first gently towards these rivers, but at last dip extremely abruptly into the enormous ravine, at the bottom of which the piti and sutlej rivers run. occasionally a rugged and difficult footpath may be found to lead among these precipices, by frequent steep ascents and descents, at no great distance above the river. these paths are always most laborious, and often very dangerous, and the usual road into the valley of the piti river leads across the higher part of all these ridges, where they are no longer precipitous, but slope at a gentle inclination. [sidenote: rocks of kunawar. _august, ._] during the journey from simla, i had been able to acquire very little information regarding the geology of the valley of the sutlej; the quantity of forest, and the rapidity with which we travelled, being unfavourable to the determination of the nature of the rocks. in the earlier part of our journey argillaceous schist, often highly micaceous, predominated. in kunawar, from wangtu eastward, gneiss and mica-schist were almost the only rocks which i observed. these appeared to alternate again and again as we advanced, but i obtained no certainty regarding their relative position. veins of granite occurred occasionally in the gneiss, especially at wangtu, and probably, from the number of boulders, the axis of the range north of the sutlej is composed of granite. behind pangi is the werang ridge, crossed by the pass of that name at a point where its height is , feet above the sea. this ridge, as will be seen by the map, separates the valley east of pangi from that of lipa, the next in succession to the eastward, through which a large tributary flows to join the sutlej. from pangi to lipa, the distance, though considerable, is not too much for an active man to accomplish in one day. it would, however, have been a very long march, allowing of no delay on the way, or on the top of the pass. we therefore divided the distance into two days' journey, ascending on the th of august to the upper limit of tree vegetation on the west side of the ridge, and leaving the remainder of the ascent and the whole descent for the next day. [sidenote: ascent towards the werang pass. _august, ._] at daybreak we were on foot, preparing for the ascent. the morning was, as usual for some days past, thickly foggy, and a heavy dew had fallen during the night. at starting we ascended gently through a dry pine-wood, towards the face of the mountain ridge of which pangi occupies the western slope. this ridge, like that above rogi, on the previous day's journey, is very precipitous towards the sutlej; and the road leads among rocks, and sometimes over planks of wood, ascending gradually as we advanced. after about a mile and a half, rounding the most projecting part of the ridge, we began to recede from the sutlej on the eastern slope of the range, along the western side of a beautifully wooded open valley, at the bottom of which ran a large rapid stream, evidently descending from snow. without descending at all, we continued to advance for a mile and a half through fine forest, till we nearly met the stream, which we crossed after a slight abrupt descent. immediately after crossing, a steep fatiguing ascent of not less than three miles commenced, continuing, with scarcely any intermission, till we reached the spot selected for our encampment, inclining all the way in the direction of the course of the stream, and therefore towards the sutlej; so that when we stopped, we almost overlooked that river, and had a fine view of the peak of raldang, covered with a dazzling coat of fresh snow. the forest at the base of this ascent was principally composed of deodar and gerard's pine. the former continued abundant till within a quarter of a mile of the top, when it suddenly disappeared. _pinus gerardiana_ gradually diminished in number during the ascent, and at last disappeared about the same time as the deodar. _pinus excelsa_ was not seen at the bottom, and was scarce on the earlier part of the ascent, but became more abundant as we increased our elevation, and was the only tree seen round our encampment. at this point the trees were straggling and distant, but very tall and luxuriant, being well sheltered by rocks. above our encampment, which was, according to captain strachey's barometer, , feet, there were only a very few stunted trees on a rocky ridge behind. excepting in the occurrence of a few new species of _astragalus_ and _artemisia_, now quite typical forms, the vegetation during the greater part of the ascent was the same as on the higher levels east of miru, and it was only above , feet that any considerable change was observed. here three species of juniper made their appearance, all stunted bushes, though one of them was _j. excelsa_, which, in more favourable circumstances, grows to a small tree. the second species was _j. squamosa_, a depressed shrub, with rigid twisted branches, and the third was undistinguishable from the common juniper of europe. a thorny species of _ribes_, very like the common gooseberry, a strongly scented labiate, _dictamnus himalayanus_, several _compositæ_, one of which was a large-flowered thistle, and european-looking _junci_ and grasses, were all observed above , feet. a beautiful rose (_r. webbiana_) was common all the way from the stream. during the ascent, after crossing the ravine, the rock was throughout gneiss, passing sometimes into a curious dark slaty rock. it was often very fine-grained; and in one place a granite vein was observed, entirely without stratification, and about a foot thick. throughout the ascent the surface was strewed with erratic blocks of granite, evidently transported from a distance. the slope below our camp, for several hundred feet, was cultivated with barley, but the crops were indifferent. lower down, the mountain-side was too steep to admit of tillage. there were no houses, the fields being the property of the inhabitants of a village a long way below, to the east of pangi. the morning of the th, before sunrise, was a good deal clearer than the two last had been, but mist began to collect soon after sunrise, and did not entirely disappear for about two hours. immediately after starting, the last trees of _pinus excelsa_ were left behind, and the ascent to the crest of the pass was gentle, over rough stony ground, covered with tufts of juniper, a shrubby _artemisia_, and _pteris aquilina_. the pass, which has an elevation of , feet, occupies a low part of the ridge, the slope to the left descending gently, but rising again into a sharp rocky peak, five or six hundred feet higher. the crest of the pass is a vast mass of loose rocks, and the slopes of the hill on the right are likewise covered with a mass of fragments. these angular boulders are all granite, none of which occurs _in situ_; the rocks throughout the ascent, so far as i could observe, being gneiss and mica-slate, the latter in one place containing large crystals of cyanite in great abundance. in the crevices of the loose stones which covered the pass, a very luxuriant vegetation was found; the same plants grew on the hill to the right, and were especially abundant among its rocky recesses. the forms were, for the first time on our journey, quite alpine, very few of the plants being even shrubby, while the great majority were small herbs. a willow, a very small _rhododendron_, and _andromeda fastigiata_, were almost the only shrubby plants, and the majority of forms were those common on the alps of europe, and comprised species of _astragalus_, _stellaria_, _anemone_, _ranunculus_, _meconopsis_, _saxifraga_, _sedum_, several _umbelliferæ_, _pedicularis_, _gentiana_, _gnaphalium_, _dolomiæa_, _saussurea_, _artemisia_, _ligularia_, _morina_, _galium_, _valeriana_, and many others. i added to my collection in all about thirty new species in a very short time. i had, however, never before been at so great an elevation in the himalaya, so that almost every plant i met was new to me. the view from the top of the pass was only remarkable for its barrenness. in the direction we had ascended, the prospect was not striking; and to the north-east, the valley in advance and hills beyond were almost bare, scattered bushes and very little forest being visible. the wind blew over the pass from the indian side, and continued throughout the day to blow on our backs strongly as we descended. [sidenote: descent from the werang pass. _august, ._] from the crest of the pass, the descent to lipa was long and steep, the distance being about five miles. at about feet or rather more (of perpendicular height) below the pass, the first tree, a large birch, stood quite alone, with a stout erect trunk. a little further down, a small grove of the same trees was passed, in which every individual had its trunk bent in the direction of the slope, probably by the weight of the winter's snow. no birches had been seen on the south face of the pass, nor did the dwarf _rhododendron_ and little _andromeda_ appear till the summit had been gained, though they were abundant on the northern face. _rhododendron campanulatum_ was the next plant observed, forming bushes four or five feet in height, and growing in large green patches, along with the willow, which i had found on the top, and the same rose common on the southern side. about feet below the summit, that is, about , feet above the sea, pine-trees commenced--_pinus excelsa_ and _picea_ making their appearance together, the deodar not till a considerably lower level had been reached. the trees of silver fir were small, with smaller and shorter leaves than the common tree of the forests in the outer himalaya, and were therefore the true _picea webbiana_ of royle, the more common long-leaved form being the _picea pindrow_ of that author[ ]. at an elevation of , feet, at a rough estimate, we passed the first deodars, and at the same height cultivation commenced. the first fields were wheat, now nearly ripe. with the cultivation many plants of lower elevation began to appear, which had disappeared on the upper part of the mountain, but many were missed which had been common, and the general aspect of the vegetation was strikingly altered, the diminution affecting at once the number, the abundance, and the luxuriance of the plants. juniper was frequent till some time after the first corn-fields were passed, and gerard's pine was common on the lower part of the descent. throughout the whole distance from the crest to the lipa stream, the road lay along a ravine, which was very rough and uneven, and covered with numerous and often very large boulders of granite[ ] scattered irregularly over the surface of the valley. towards the end of the day's march, we reached the lipa stream, which was of large size; and we continued along its right bank, through a dry fir-wood, till close to the village, when we crossed by a substantial wooden bridge to enter lipa, which is situate on a flattish piece of ground on the left bank of the stream, and very little above its level. it is a small village, with some cultivation, and a rather odd-looking little temple, close to which are two fine trees of _juniperus excelsa_, the sacred juniper of the kunawarees and tibetans. we were accommodated with a room close to the temple, which afforded us sufficiently comfortable quarters. at the back of the village a thick bank of alluvial clay was observed resting on the rocks behind, and vast masses of the same extended up the valley for a considerable distance. this was the first occurrence of a very common feature of tibetan valleys, so common as to be almost universal; and as i shall have many opportunities of referring to it again, and shall find it necessary to try to give some explanation, or rather to attempt some conjectures as to its cause, i shall only here pause to observe that the first time of its occurrence coincided with the first entrance into an extremely dry climate; the passage of the werang ridge having effected a greater change in the aspect of the country than had been seen during very many previous days--the change from luxuriant forest, not indeed to treelessness, but to thin and stunted woods. [sidenote: lipa. _august, ._] in the valley of lipa i met with a species of caper, apparently the same which i had collected at rampur on the sutlej, on hot rocky places close to the river, but which had not been met with in the intermediate parts of the journey. this little prickly shrub i afterwards found to be a common tibetan plant, which (like most of its tribe) prefers the hottest and driest exposures, expanding its large white blossoms on dry stony ground, or among rocks where hardly any other plant will vegetate. lipa is situated at no great distance from the sutlej, at an elevation of feet above the level of the sea. the next range to the eastward is that of runang, separating the lipa valley from that of the ruskalan, on which is situated the village of sungnam. as in the former instance, we divided the passage into two days' journey, encamping on the th of august at an elevation of , feet. the road began to ascend as soon as we left lipa. at first we took the direction of the stream, gradually rising along the face of a rocky hill composed of a dark clay-slate, which had now taken the place of the gneiss of the lower part of the sutlej; but turning to the left, to ascend the ridge, as soon as its crest had been gained. the surface was everywhere barren and dried up. a few scattered pine trees occurred at intervals, but nothing approaching to forest, and the parched stony ground was quite destitute of any covering of turf or of herbaceous vegetation in sufficient quantity to attract the notice of the general observer. the ascent on the ridge was steep and uninterrupted; but as the general direction of the day's journey was down the range, or towards the sutlej, we had to pass from one ridge to the next in succession, across the ravine by which the two were separated. here the road was nearly level, and took a long curve in the receding hollow of the hill, turning round a belt of green which occupied the middle of the hollow. on the left hand, above the road, there was not a trace of verdure in the ravine; but just below the road a small spring burst out from the stony ground. for three or four yards the banks of the little streamlet were quite bare, but at about that distance from its source they were fringed with luxuriant marsh plants, _veronica beccabunga_ and _anagallis_, rushes, and several kinds of grasses, which gradually increased in abundance. within a hundred yards of its origin a thicket of willows bordered the stream, and a rich vegetation grew under their shade. from this it would appear that the barrenness of the country cannot be ascribed to any fault of temperature or of altitude, but solely to the deficiency of moisture. [sidenote: ascent towards the runang pass. _august, ._] on the next ridge beyond this little green spot, the ascent continued steep, over loose shingly soil, among scattered trees of deodar, and occasionally a fine tree of _pinus gerardiana_; a spinous _astragalus_, and several species of _artemisia_, formed almost all the scanty vegetation. higher up there was, in one place, a good view of the sutlej to the south-east, with a very lofty snowy mountain beyond. a little further on, the pines ceased to grow, and no tree but juniper was seen, the vegetation becoming more and more wretched in appearance, though the same _astragalus_ and _artemisiæ_ predominated. above , feet, two or three alpine species made their appearance; these were a _polygonum_, a _mulgedium_, and a little shrubby _potentilla_. except these, however, not one of the numerous alpine forms observed on the werang pass two days before were to be seen. we encamped at an elevation of , feet on the north-east slope of the ridge, overhanging a deep wide valley, in which there were several patches of cultivation still green, at an elevation which i estimated at about feet below the level of our tents. by this wide valley, (in the lower part of which, on its east side, is the village of kanam,) we were still separated from the central range on which the runang pass is situated. the hills all round had a desolate aspect. they were rounded in outline, and appeared quite smooth and destitute of herbage, excepting large dark-green patches of juniper, by which they were mottled. a single stunted tree of _pinus excelsa_ stood within a short distance of our encampment, and four or five hundred feet lower was a small grove, apparently of birch. during the afternoon a furious west wind blew without intermission. the morning had been quite calm, but before noon the wind had begun to blow, and gradually increased in violence till late in the afternoon; after dark it became calm. the next morning was clear, with scarcely any wind, but the mountains above us were partly shrouded in mist. for the first time during our journey we had _zobos_ furnished for the conveyance of our tents. these animals, which are mules between a yak bull and indian cow, are intermediate between the two, having most of the peculiarities by which the yak is distinguished, though in a much less degree. their colour varies much,--black, white, and iron-grey being all common. they have coarse long shaggy hair, much shorter than in the yak, a stout rounded body, and the tail has a small tuft at the end, quite similar in miniature to that of the yak. these mules are exceedingly common in upper kunawar and hangarang, and are much preferred as beasts of burden to the yak, being more docile, and less sensitive to climatic influences. [sidenote: the runang pass. _august, ._] the first half-mile of the ascent to the pass was very gentle, till we passed round the hollow of the valley which lay below our encampment. the hill-sides were covered with stones, among which grew a few tufts of thyme, a large-leaved saxifrage, a yellow _scorzonera_, a curious _polygonum_, and an _oxyria_, the same in appearance with that of the alps of europe. two or three little rills of water trickled across the road, but their margins had no trace of green. the remainder of the ascent was more rapid, but nowhere fatiguing, and i reached the top about a.m. nothing can be conceived more dreary and bare than the aspect of the pass and the mountains all around. the hills, which at a distance appeared smooth and rounded, were now seen to be covered with loose stones piled upon one another, in the crevices of which a few plants found an attachment for their roots. the elevation was about , feet, but there was no appearance of snow. to the north-east a wide and straight valley ran from the crest, at the end of which, far below and perhaps eight miles off, was seen the village of sungnam, beyond which another lofty range of equally rounded mountains, apparently smooth, ran parallel to that on which i stood. on this range, at a level, to the eye sensibly the same as that of the runang pass, an evident track indicated the pass of hangarang, over which lay the continuation of our journey. [sidenote: vegetation. _august, ._] i spent a considerable time on the top of the pass, and by close searching, in the crevices of the stones, especially on the hill which rose to the south-east, i succeeded in collecting a considerable number of species of plants, though very much fewer than on the werang pass two days before. from our morning's camp to the top of the pass the whole number of species which i met with was only forty-six, not half of which were observed on the summit. the number gathered on the former pass was nearly three times as great. it must not be forgotten, however, in comparing the two ranges, that the werang pass is feet lower than that of runang, and ought therefore, independent of climate, to be more productive. the species which were observed for the first time on the summit of the runang pass were not more than six, and were all forms which i have since found to be abundant throughout the higher parts of tibet. a little willow, creeping among the stones, and scarcely more luxuriant than _salix herbacea_, was the only shrubby plant. the others were _oxytropis chiliophylla_, _biebersteinia odora_, a _draba_, _lamium rhomboideum_ of bentham, and a species of rhubarb, of which i found only a few leaves and one or two panicles, from which the ripe fruit had nearly fallen away. the descent from the pass to sungnam was even more barren and desolate than the other side. the valley was open and almost straight, and the slope gradual. till nearly half-way not a drop of water occurred on the road, and for miles almost the only vegetation on the hill-sides was an erect branched _polygonum_, never more than a foot in height. at an elevation of about , feet, a few deodars occurred, all miserably stunted in height, though often with trunks of considerable diameter. gerard's pine, and the ash of tibet, also appeared a little lower, but in very small numbers. during the greater part of the descent, the white houses of sungnam were in sight, to all appearance at the end of the valley down which we were proceeding; but when near the bottom, we discovered that we were still separated from them by a wide and level plain, that of the ruskalan river. on the opposite side of this plain, on the side of a hill just sufficiently high to terminate the vista down the valley by which we descended from the pass, stands the town of sungnam; while the cultivated lands, which form a wide belt, scarcely higher than the level of the river, were entirely out of sight till we arrived close to the precipitous bank parallel to the river. here the descent was abrupt to the bed of the ruskalan. the bank was alluvial, with enormous boulders, and was covered with tufts of _ephedra_, a remarkable leafless plant with rod-like branches, which is abundant in every part of northern tibet, especially in the driest and hottest exposures. it extends also occasionally into the partially rainy district, being found in kunawar nearly as far west as the bridge of wangtu. [sidenote: sungnam. _august, ._] sungnam is one of the principal places of kunawar, dividing with kanam, which we did not visit, the claim to be the principal seat in the sutlej valley of the buddhist religion. it contains numerous temples and monasteries, with also a considerable industrial population. cultivation occupies a great part of the valley, and extends up the course of the stream to a considerable distance. the level tract along the river has in many places a breadth of nearly a quarter of a mile, and the town occupies a ridge on the mountain side, to which a gently-sloping road leads from the bridge by which we crossed the ruskalan. the elevation of sungnam above the level of the sea is feet. still the vine thrives well, the steep slopes facing the river being covered with vineyards: the grapes were not yet ripe. the principal fruit-trees are apricots and apples. willows and poplars are also frequent in the village; a new species of the latter being for the first time observed, with leaves white and downy underneath, which appears in no way to differ from _populus alba_, the common white poplar of europe. footnotes: [ ] i have carefully compared, since my return to england, a great many specimens of the himalayan _picea_, and am sorry to be obliged to dissent from the opinion of their distinctness, which has been expressed by many excellent observers. great variations occur in length of leaf, which is either green on both sides, or very glaucous below. all have notched leaves, but the notch varies much in depth and form. there are also differences in the form of the cones and the shape of the scales. the long green-leaved state is that of the moist himalaya; in the driest regions the very short glaucous-leaved form occurs. there are, however, among the specimens collected by wallich, strachey, and myself, so many intermediate forms of leaf, that i feel satisfied that all must be considered states of one species, varying, like most _coniferæ_, with climate and other accidental circumstances. [ ] i have now no doubt that the whole of this descent was over an ancient glacier moraine, but i was not at the time familiar with glaciers or their moraines by personal experience; and though on this and other similar occasions my notes show that i was much puzzled by the numerous transported blocks, the idea of this explanation did not suggest itself to me till i had an opportunity of seeing the connection of such phenomena with actual moraines. chapter iv. hangarang ridge separates kunawar from piti -- ascent to hangarang pass -- alluvial deposit -- steep ascent -- view of valley -- limestone rocks -- _caragana versicolor_, or _dama_ -- camp at , feet -- top of pass -- view from pass -- vegetation of summit -- descent to hango -- cultivation round the village -- luxuriant wild plants -- road to lio -- _crambe_ -- ravine of piti river -- lio -- bridge over piti river -- ascent to nako -- nako -- cultivation of the village -- buddhist temple -- transported blocks -- chango -- changar -- stopped by villagers on chinese frontier -- natural bridge -- kyuri -- alluvium -- clay deposit with shells -- lari -- ramifications of mountain ranges -- alluvial platforms -- pok -- dankar -- lara -- rangrig -- upper part of piti -- climate -- saline exudations the hangarang ridge, as we may conveniently call that mountain range on which the pass of hangarang is situated, forms the boundary between the districts of kunawar and hangarang. as this range terminates at or close to the point where the sutlej is joined by the piti river, this division is geographically convenient. it has also a marked physical signification, forming the absolute limit of the deodar and gerard's pine; and indeed, if we except the juniper, of all tree vegetation. on the nd of august, our party left sungnam to ascend towards the hangarang pass, encamping, as on the two previous occasions, on the upper part of the ascent, so as to get to the summit of the pass at an early hour next day. our road lay up a narrow ravine, through which a small stream descended from the vicinity of the hangarang pass, to join the ruskalan immediately below sungnam. we followed for a long time the course of this rivulet, so that the ascent was by no means fatiguing. a very few stunted deodars, and a single tree of _pinus gerardiana_, were the only trees met with. a little shrubby vegetation was now and then seen, consisting of an ash, rose, _colutea_, _lonicera_, and _spiræa_. the banks of the ravine were everywhere composed of a conglomerate of angular stones, in general imbedded in soft clay, though the matrix was not unfrequently calcareous, and in several places even composed of crystalline carbonate of lime. [sidenote: beds of conglomerate. _august, ._] the hard calcareous conglomerates are, i think, of different origin from the clayey ones. indeed, i was induced to believe from what i saw in the neighbourhood of sungnam, and occasionally in other districts (as i shall have again occasion to notice), that the calcareous conglomerates, which only occur in the neighbourhood of the limestone formation, and therefore where calcareous springs are common, are formed by the infiltration of water containing lime among beds of loose shingle which have accumulated along the base of the steep hills. these calcareous conglomerates are quite local, never very extensive, and are often covered with an incrustation of lime, showing the continued existence of the calcareous springs, by the action of which i suppose them to have been formed. [sidenote: alluvial conglomerate. _august, ._] the clay beds, on the other hand, are continuous and uniform in appearance. they vary much in thickness, but are on the whole much thicker and more remarkable in the upper part of the ravine, where (on the east side) a mass of clay, not less than five or six hundred feet in thickness, has accumulated, forming steep sloping or quite perpendicular banks, which at the top are worn away into pinnacles, and excavated into deep grooves and hollows, i presume by the action of melting snow. the fragments of rock which it contained were all angular, or at most a very little worn at the edges. five or six miles from sungnam, the road left the course of the ravine, and began rapidly to ascend the steep spur which bounded it on the left. at first we followed a fissure in the clay conglomerate, which still had a thickness of nearly two hundred feet. above, the ridge was rocky and very steep. when we had attained a sufficient height to overlook the valley by which we had ascended from sungnam, i was able to estimate better than while in the ravine, the extent of the clay deposit. it was now seen to occupy both sides of the valley, and to be pretty equally diffused throughout, but certainly thicker on the left or eastern side,--in the upper part at least, for low down, just behind sungnam, it capped a round sloping hill of considerable elevation to the right of the little streamlet and of the road. the valley did not narrow at the lower extremity, where it debouched into that of the ruskalan, so much as to give any reason for supposing that it could have been closed by a barrier, so as to form a lake. indeed, the absolute elevation of the conglomerate was so great at the upper end of the valley, that it would be necessary to suppose a barrier several thousand feet above the bed of the ruskalan to produce such an effect. the greater thickness of the conglomerate in the upper part of the ravine, and the almost complete angularity of the fragments, were equally opposed to such a view. nor was i able to form any probable conjecture as to the mode in which these accumulations had been formed. [sidenote: rocks of hangarang. _august, ._] in the earlier part of the day's journey, the rock, where exposed, was invariably clay-slate, not different in appearance from that which, commencing at lipa, had been observed on every part of the runang ridge. it dipped generally at a high angle, but was often much contorted. in the upper part of the ravine, thick beds of a hard cherty quartz rock alternated with the slate; and in the course of the last steep ascent, at an elevation of about , feet, the first limestone was observed. it was of a dark blue colour, very hard, coarsely stratified, and much veined with white calcareous spar. it seemed to dip at a high angle towards the north-east. the ridge by which we ascended was quite bare of trees and exceedingly barren, producing very little vegetation of any sort, and no novelty, till we had almost attained an elevation of , feet. we then observed bushes of a species of _caragana_ (_c. versicolor_), the _dama_ of the tibetans, a very curious stunted shrub, which is very extensively distributed at elevations which no other woody plants attain, and which, therefore, is much prized and extensively used as fuel. i had not met with it before, nor does it appear to extend at all into the wooded region of the himalaya. we encamped on a flat piece of ground at , feet. notwithstanding the elevation, the heat of the sun was very great during the day, but the evening and night were extremely cold. [sidenote: hangarang pass. _august, ._] early next morning a short steep ascent of about feet brought us to the top of the pass, which has an elevation of , feet above the sea. the _dama_, in green patches from two to four feet in diameter, was abundant till near the summit. the pass occupies a hollow in the ridge, which rises considerably on both sides. to the north-west, on the northern exposure, there was at a short distance one small patch of snow, from which the pass and surrounding mountains were otherwise quite free. no remarkable difficulty of breathing was experienced by any of the party, except immediately after any exertion. the ascent was latterly so steep, that it was necessary to stop frequently to take breath, and the pulse was found to be very considerably accelerated when counted immediately after walking. there was, however, a great difference according to the individual; in one case it rose as high as ; but a few minutes' rest restored it nearly to the usual standard. at the crest of the pass, the rock was a hard bluish-grey limestone, traversed in every direction by numerous crystalline veins. i ascended the hill to the south-east, to an elevation of nearly , feet, which was within a few hundred feet of the summit. at that height it was composed of a mass of loose fragments of black slate, perfectly moveable, and so steep, that it was difficult to progress in an upward direction. vegetation had almost disappeared; more, however, from the moveable shingly soil than from the elevation attained, for wherever a solid rock peeped out, straggling plants still lingered; the rhubarb, _biebersteinia_, a minute saxifrage, and a yellow lichen, were the species which attained the greatest altitude. the view from the summit of the pass, and the steep hill above it, was extensive, but very desolate. in the direction of our previous journey, the rounded outline of the runang range bounded the view, but in front a much wider and more diversified extent of country was embraced. to the eastward, the lofty mountain of porgyul was seen almost to its base; its upper part a magnificent mass of snow, the summit being upwards of , feet in height. to the north of porgyul, where the valley of the piti river allowed the distant mountains to be seen, a succession of ranges rose one beyond another, the furthest evidently at a great distance, and covered with heavy snow[ ]. the vegetation at the summit of the ridge was even more scanty than on the runang pass. there was, however, more novelty in species than i had met with there. a grass, several saxifrages, _potentillæ_ and _seda_, a little _thermopsis_, an _anemone_, and a beautiful _delphinium_ (_d. brunonianum_, royle), were the new species observed; and these, i believe, (as was indeed to be expected from the minuteness with which the country had been investigated by dr. royle's collectors,) were all previously described species. [sidenote: hango. _august, ._] from the pass the descent was pretty steep all the way to hango, a small village, elevated , feet. the road lay on the side of a ravine, keeping the hills on the left hand, and the channel of the stream on the right. the _dama_, which had disappeared at the summit, was again plentiful on the northern slope; and a shrubby species of _potentilla_, quite new to me, was exceedingly common. otherwise, little change was visible. the road was good, but the hills were dry and stony. the village of hango, notwithstanding its great elevation, has a considerable extent of cultivation, though i think the corn was less luxuriant than at lower levels. the wheat was still green, and rather scanty, a good deal of a wild oat (perhaps _avena fatua_) being mixed with it; but the barley was stronger and more productive. there was also a number of fields of _hordeum Ægiceras_, that curious awnless monstrous barley, which seems peculiar to the higher regions of tibet, where it is very frequently cultivated. this grain was much further advanced than the wheat, being nearly ripe. the arable lands of hango are nearly destitute of trees, a few willows being the only arboreous vegetation. they are abundantly supplied with water, circulating in copious rills among the different fields, which are disposed in terraces one above another, faced by walls about three feet in height. on the margins of the cultivation, stimulated by the moisture derived from the irrigation, there was a very abundant growth of shrubs, and of luxuriant herbaceous plants. the gooseberry, _hippophaë_, and rose, were the shrubs, and several large _umbelliferæ_, one of which was closely allied to the _assafoetida_, a tall _thalictrum_, a yellow-flowered _medicago_, _verbascum thapsus_, two species of thistle, the common henbane, dock, mint, _plantago_, and various species of _artemisia_, were the most common herbaceous plants. [sidenote: hango valley. _august, ._] on the th of august we proceeded to lio, a village on the right or west bank of the piti river. the road crosses the small stream which runs past hango, a little below the village, and gradually ascends the slope of the hill on its left bank. close to the stream there is a bank of clayey alluvium, with stones, and traces of it may be seen at intervals for some distance down the valley, but it is nowhere of any great thickness. the hill along which the road lay was composed of a cherty sandstone of a light-blue colour, often nearly white; in fragments, and especially when pulverized, it was quite so; and being extremely brittle, the slopes were covered with fine white dust, the glare of which, in the bright sunshine, was very unpleasant. on this gravelly ascent the vegetation was equally scanty, and much the same in character as at moderate elevations on the two previous days; a large thistle, species of _artemisia_, _chenopodiaceæ_, and a spinous _astragalus_, being the most abundant plants. the road continued to ascend gently for about half a mile, rapidly increasing its height above the stream, which had a considerable slope. the next two miles were tolerably level, over a good but stony road, at an elevation a little under , feet. a species of _crambe_, with a long fusiform root, smelling somewhat like a turnip, was common along this part of the road. the young leaves of this plant are used by the tibetans as a pot-herb, and are said to be well-flavoured. a species of currant (_r. glandulosum_), with viscid, glandular, very aromatic-smelling leaves, was also met with; its fruit, now ripe, had a sweetish taste, but no flavour. it is a common tibetan species, extending on the indus as low down as feet. [sidenote: the piti river. _august, ._] an abrupt descent followed, of not less than seven or eight hundred feet, into a wide steeply-sloping valley, descending from the north to join that of hango. on the surface of this hollow, the road passed among a multitude of large angular boulders of limestone, irregularly scattered over the surface. this limestone was much like that of the hangarang pass, and as it nowhere occurred _in situ_ on the road, the boulders must have come from the hills on the upper part of the lateral ravine. a small spring of water and a solitary willow marked the centre of the valley, beyond which the road again ascended slightly, till on rounding a corner, the piti river came into view, at the bottom of a most remarkable rocky ravine. full in front, just beyond the river, was a scarped rock of great height; it was of a dark grey colour, and was traversed in every direction by immense white veins. round this precipice, which seemed to project beyond the general mass, the river swept in a deep curve, of which the convexity was towards me. the mountains on the right bank of the river, which formed the termination of the range on which i stood, seemed not less steep than those opposite, for the road, instead of passing round them without change of level, rose rapidly as it turned to the left, till it had attained an elevation of at least , feet, at which height it wound among precipitous rocks of hard dark slate, covered with bushes of _ephedra_, and scattered trees of _juniperus excelsa_. when fairly round the rocky projecting range, the village of lio was discovered more than feet below, in a narrow ravine, on the bank of a small stream descending from the north-west, and close to its junction with the piti river. the descent was very abrupt, in a rocky ravine among large boulders, partly of slate, partly of granite. this rock occurred in thick veins in the clay-slate, most abundantly on the lower part of the precipices which rose on the left hand during the descent. [sidenote: lio. _august, ._] lio, at an elevation of feet above the sea, is a considerable village, with a large tract of cultivation, disposed in terraces from three to six feet above one another. the crops of wheat and barley had been all cut, but there were many fields of buckwheat in full flower, and of millet (_panicum miliaceum_) still quite green. numerous apricot-trees, from which the fruit had long been gathered, were interspersed among the cultivated lands. surrounded on all sides by very precipitous mountains, which reflect the sun's rays, lio appears to enjoy a great amount of heat, and the weeds which bordered the corn-fields were rank and abundant, and included many species which had not been seen at the higher villages. _salvia glutinosa_, almost the only remaining simla plant, burdock, sow-thistle, lucerne, and melilot, were the commonest weeds. a little _cuscuta_ was common on these latter. no tree of any kind occurred in the valley, nor on the slopes on either side. elevation could not be the cause of this, the height being much lower than the line of upper limit of tree vegetation in the outer himalaya, and the temperature of the valley, as was evident from the kinds of grain cultivated, very much greater than it would have been at the same level, in the more rainy climates nearer the plains of india. the ravine through which the lio stream runs is narrow and rocky, and contains a great number of transported blocks of various sizes, scattered irregularly over the surface. close to the village there is a curious isolated rock, separated by the stream from the mountain mass with which it has evidently once been connected. [sidenote: cross the piti river. _august, ._] on the th of august we crossed the piti river, a little above lio, and ascended to the village of nako, on a very steep ridge, which descended from the great mountain porgyul. after leaving the cultivated lands of lio, which extend for half a mile from the upper part of the village, we ascended the right bank of the piti river for nearly a mile, to a bridge, by which it is crossed. the river ran here in an extremely narrow ravine, precipitous mountains rising on either side. its banks were steep, and covered with loose shingle, the _débris_ of the precipices above. the stream is of considerable size, but much inferior to the sutlej where we had last observed it close at hand, though i believe it is nearly as large as that river, at the point of junction of the two. the piti runs in this part of its course with great rapidity, and is probably of considerable depth. [sidenote: ascent to nako. _august, ._] the bridge was situated at a bend of the river, where the rocky banks contract more than usual. it was similar in structure to that over the sutlej at wangtu, but much smaller, and in so dilapidated a state, that it could scarcely be expected to last another year. the ascent to nako was throughout steep, the difference of elevation being about feet, and the distance not more than two miles and a half. when at a sufficient height above the narrow dell in which the piti runs, a good view was obtained of the mountains by which we were surrounded, which rose on all sides in rugged precipices. the steepness of the cliffs allowed their geological structure to be well seen. the fundamental rock, wherever i saw it, appeared to be clay-slate, sometimes passing into chert or quartzy sandstone. this basal rock was everywhere traversed by innumerable veins of quartz and granite, which exhibited no signs of parallelism, but ramified in every direction. these veins were often of great thickness. not unfrequently, indeed, the mass of granite much exceeded the slaty beds between which it was interposed; but its connection with other veins of more moderate size rendered it evident that it had been injected into the slate. behind the village of lio a thick deposit of alluvial clay was discernible, which seemed to suggest the idea of the valley having formerly been a lake; and at no place where i had seen these clayey accumulations was this hypothesis so plausible, for the precipices south of the junction of the lio stream, rose almost perpendicularly for more than feet above the piti river, and approached so close to one another, that their disruption was at least a possible contingency. the slopes, as we ascended, were covered with boulders of granite in countless profusion, and the vegetation was extremely scanty, _ephedra_ being the most abundant plant observed. on the upper part of the ascent the road crossed a little streamlet, which was conducted in an artificial channel to irrigate a few fields of wheat. the margins of this little stream, and a belt a few feet in width on both sides, where the ground was swampy, were covered with a dense thicket of _hippophaë_ and rose-bushes, among which grew thickly and luxuriantly a scandent _clematis_, and _rubia cordifolia_, mint, dock, and thistles. the number of species altogether was scarcely more than a dozen, but the brilliant green formed so delightful a contrast with the prevailing monotony, that what in a more fertile country would have been passed as a mere thicket of thorns, to my eyes appeared a most beautiful grove of graceful shrubs; and i lingered in the swampy ground, till i had traversed it repeatedly in every direction, and completely exhausted the flora. [sidenote: nako. _august, ._] nako is a smaller village than lio, and from its elevation ( , feet) has no fruit-trees; but at the base of the cultivation, which is extensive, there was a copse of willows and poplars. the predominant crop was barley, now quite ripe, and being cut; the species was the common one, not _h. Ægiceras_, but the ears were very short, and the return must, i should think, have been very small. there was abundance of water, which ran in every direction through the fields. the little streamlets had a narrow belt of green on their margins, consisting of small grasses, several gentians, and _potentillæ_, one of which i could not distinguish from _p. anserina_, a _polygonum_ very like _p. viviparum_, and, most remarkable of all, a small orchideous plant, which seemed to be a species of _herminium_. [sidenote: buddhist temples. _august, ._] at nako, we had a most satisfactory proof of the little estimation in which the lamas, or priests of the buddhist religion, hold their religious buildings, the apartments furnished to us in the village being the different parts of the temple, surrounded with full-sized figures of the different incarnations of buddha, in sitting posture, each with his hands in the position which is conventionally used to indicate the individual. the remarkable forms and system of the buddhist religion, as practised in kunawar and ladak, have been so often and accurately described, that it would be useless for me to attempt to give any account of what i could, from want of previous knowledge, very imperfectly understand, and from my other occupations scarcely at all inquire into. the gradual transition, in ascending the sutlej, from hinduism to buddhism, is very remarkable, and not the less so because it is accompanied by an equally gradual change in the physical aspect of the inhabitants, the hindus of the lower sutlej appearing to pass by insensible gradations as we advance from village to village, till at last we arrive at a pure tartar population. the people of upper piti have quite the tartar physiognomy, the small stature and stout build of the inhabitants of ladak, to whom also they closely approximate in dress. to what extent mere climatic influences may cause these differences, and how far they depend on an intermixture of races, i do not pretend to decide. it is impossible, however, to avoid being struck by the coincidence between these physical and moral changes in the human race, and the gradual alteration in the forms of the vegetable world, which are observable as we advance from a wet to a dry climate. [sidenote: porgyul _august, ._] from nako we proceeded, on the th of august, nearly due north, to chango, about ten miles up the piti valley. nako is situated on the shoulder of the great mountain porgyul, which rises to a height of , feet above that village, and chango is at the very extremity of a long spur given off by that mountain further east: it is therefore separated from the nako spur by a valley of considerable size, which descends abruptly towards the piti river. our road lay in a long sweep round the deep bay formed by this valley, at an elevation not lower than that of nako, crossing in the most receding part a foaming torrent which descends from the perpetual snows of the mountain behind. half a mile from nako, and scarcely lower than that place, is a patch of cultivation, watered, as i was surprised to find, by a conduit brought more than a mile along the side of the hill from the stream which occupies the mid-valley; the water of which was collected into several ponds, one above another, in which it was kept in reserve till required for irrigation. the crops cultivated were buckwheat and a species of _brassica_, both in flower. a number of poplars and willows were planted along the stream, but no fruit-trees. [sidenote: angular boulders. _august, ._] beyond this cultivated tract, the road, till we reached chango, was entirely barren. for several miles we continued to pass through a most extraordinary accumulation of transported blocks, scattered irregularly on the gently sloping sides of the mountains. they covered a very large area, and occurred in such almost incredible profusion, that the road seemed to lie in a hollow among fragments of rock on all sides. they were all angular; and at so considerable an elevation as , feet, i have now no hesitation in referring them to glacier action. the rock _in situ_ was clay-slate, with copious granite veins, and the boulders were in general the same. in one place, however, a dark mica-slate, with large crystals of cyanite, was the predominating rock of the erratic blocks, which no doubt might have been traced to its source in the ravine above, as i nowhere saw it _in situ_ during the day. after passing the torrent which occupies the centre of the valley, the road very gradually approaches the piti river, from which it had at first receded considerably. we could now observe that the mountains which overhung the river in this part of its course were much less precipitous, and the valley wider and more open, than around lio. alluvial beds of great thickness everywhere rested on the ancient rocks, assuming the most diversified forms, but in general thicker and higher on the sides of the hills, at some distance from the river, than in the centre of the valley. about a mile and a half from chango, the road began to descend rather rapidly along a dry water-course filled with huge boulders. it then crossed a stream, which had cut for itself a very deep channel through the alluvial conglomerate, and ascended slightly to the village of chango. close to the last stream was a bed of very fine clay, which had a thickness of at least twenty-five feet, and did not appear to contain any stones, pebbles, or fragments of rock. this clay had quite a different appearance from the alluvial conglomerate, which covered it, without appearing to pass into it. it occurred extensively in several places in the neighbourhood of chango, and had entirely the appearance of having been deposited in a very tranquil lake, while the alluvium which rested upon it, and, therefore, was of more recent formation, contained so many fragments of rock, all seemingly angular, that its origin could scarcely be assigned to deposition under water, unless under some very peculiar circumstances. [sidenote: chango. _august, ._] chango is situated in the middle of an open, nearly level tract of considerable size, which slopes very gently towards the piti river. the cultivation is extensive, water being more than usually abundant, so that much of the ground is swampy from its waste, and covered with tufts of a small _iris_ and a species of _equisetum_. the barley had been all cut, as well as the beans, which are here grown to some extent. buckwheat and rape-seed (a species of _brassica_) were still in flower, and the millet quite green. apricot-trees were still common, though the elevation of chango is about , feet. the village lies nearly opposite to shialkar, but separated from it by the piti river, which, at the bridge of that place, is elevated exactly , feet above the level of the sea. [sidenote: zungsam river. _august, ._] a little way above shialkar and chango, two very considerable rivers unite to form the piti river. the larger of these, descending from the north-west, is known by the same name. the other, which flows from the north-east, may be called the parang river, by which name it is known in the upper part of its course; lower down, it seems to be usually called zungsam. the direct road from hangarang to the indus lies up this river, which unfortunately flows for several days' journey through districts which are included within the chinese frontier. it was our wish to proceed by the most expeditious route, and at the same time that nearest the line of boundary, to hanle. it was, therefore, our object to effect, if possible, a passage up the zungsam river, though, as we knew that captain gerard and m. jacquemont had both been stopped upon the frontier, we had no reason to anticipate any more favourable result. we therefore took, on leaving chango, a north-easterly direction, proceeding, on the th of august, to a village on the left bank of the parang or zungsam river, called changar, the same place which, by gerard and jacquemont, is named changrezing. leaving the cultivated lands of chango, and crossing the stream which skirts the plain, we immediately commenced a steep zigzag ascent over a barren shingly road, to the heights which overhang the village to the north-east. after a very fatiguing climb of not less than feet, we attained the summit of the ridge, and advanced along it for some distance without much change of level, but still gradually ascending among low-topped gravelly hills. a very steep ascent followed to the summit of the pass, which was called changrang la[ ], and could not be much under , feet. the whole ascent was extremely barren, the arid slopes producing a minimum of vegetation. a fleshy cruciferous plant, with a strong pungent taste not unlike horse-radish (_christolea_ of decaisne in jacquemont), a fine _nepeta_ (_n. floccosa_, benth.), and a little _stipa_, were the only novelties; and these, with the _ephedra_, a little _lactuca_, an aromatic species of _chenopodium_ (_c. botrys_), the tibetan _euphorbia_, and a shrubby white-flowered spinous _astragalus_, were almost all the plants observed. [sidenote: changar. _august, ._] from the summit of the pass, the road descended abruptly into a deep ravine, which originated in a snowy mountain to the south. at the bottom of this ravine, between rocky precipitous banks, ran a considerable torrent, which was crossed by a very frail wooden bridge. immediately after crossing, the road began to ascend rapidly, rising to an elevation only a few hundred feet lower than the pass from which we had descended, after which, half a mile of nearly level road brought us to our camp at changar, a small village on a stony hill, of which only one house seemed habitable. a few fields of barley, not yet ripe, separated our tents from the village; these were irrigated by a small streamlet, whose source was a spring on the rocky hill-side a few hundred yards off, shaded by a few rose-bushes and a small clump of juniper-trees. we remained one day stationary at changar, to complete some arrangements which were required previous to our leaving the district of hangarang; and on the th we proceeded to ascend the valley of the zungsam river, intending, if no obstacles were offered, to follow its course and the regular road to hanle; but in case of obstruction, which there was every reason to apprehend, to adopt the plan which had been already followed both by gerard and jacquemont, of crossing the river, encamping on its north bank, and proceeding in a westerly direction along the course of the piti river to the parang pass, in which direction we could effect a passage to hanle without the necessity of entering on the territories under chinese control. [sidenote: black currant. _august, ._] our road, for about three miles, was undulating, with rather a tendency to descend, but without any abrupt change of level. it lay along the gently sloping side of the ridge, and crossed a good many little ravines. to the right was the crest of the ridge; to the left, the valley of the zungsam river, which was nearly feet below, the slope being very precipitous. in many of the ravines, where there was a stream of water, there was a dense jungle of shrubs, which contrasted strongly with the barrenness of the hills. a willow, rose, _lonicera_, a shrubby _astragalus_, an _artemisia_, a _potentilla_ of large size, and a black currant, closely resembling that of our gardens, were the principal shrubs; and the herbaceous vegetation was the same as in similar places since entering the tibetan region. the currant, which occurred here for the first time, was quite a new species: its ripe fruit was quite black, and had the size and flavour of the common black currant, with, however, a considerable degree of acidity. about three miles from changar, an abrupt descent led from the platform on which we had been travelling, to the level of the banks of the river, more than feet lower. the path by which we descended was steep, rocky, and difficult. the rock was still clay-slate, with granite veins. the granite in general very much exceeded in quantity the rock into which it had been injected, as was well seen on several precipitous cliffs along the course of the stream, in which the stratification of the slaty rock and the ramifications of the granite could be examined in detail. the banks of the river were adorned with a species of _myricaria_, a small tree, with very delicate graceful foliage and beautiful rose-coloured flowers. [sidenote: chinese frontier. _august, ._] on reaching the small streamlet which forms the frontier of the chinese dominions, we found, as indeed we expected, that there was no intention of permitting us to proceed by the direct road to hanle; and all arguments to induce a compliance with our wish proving ineffectual, we agreed to take the route up the piti river by dankar, and were then permitted to proceed about a mile, to the village of kyuri, where we encamped for the day. i have now no doubt that if we had resolutely advanced, no serious opposition to our progress would have been made; but our instructions were so precise that we should not have been justified in using the smallest degree of force, or incurring any risk of a collision. to reach kyuri[ ], we crossed the zungsam river by a very remarkable natural bridge, composed of an enormous block of granite, which has in some way been placed across the stream, at a spot where it is much contracted in width, flowing in a deep rocky fissure from fifteen to twenty-five feet in width, evidently of great depth. at this point a considerable number of boulders of large size are piled on both banks, of which the one that spans the channel is eighty-five feet in length and probably not less than forty in width and twenty in depth; it is placed obliquely across the stream, its left or southern extremity being lower, and inclined at so considerable an angle that the passage is one of some difficulty for horses and loaded cattle, though for men, with ordinary care, it is quite easy. the higher end is so much elevated above the surface on which it rests, that a rudely constructed stair of stones is necessary to enable travellers to descend. [sidenote: kyuri. _august, ._] our encamping ground at kyuri was on a gently sloping barren plain, seven or eight hundred feet above the valley of the zungsam, and was reached by a short steep ascent from the bridge. there was no cultivation; but about a mile to the east, a long sloping tract of alluvium interposed between the mountains and the river was covered with green fields, though it had only two houses and not a single tree. alluvium abounded in every direction, forming steep sloping banks, often much worn away by running water, and occasionally from two to three hundred feet in thickness. the plain on which we were encamped was also of recent origin; it consisted of a fine clay, curiously worn into cliffs and narrow ridges. a few layers of fine sand were included in the clay, and by a careful search i found three or four small fresh-water shells in the clay, belonging to at least two species--one a _lymnæa_, the other a _planorbis_. the shells were, however, very scarce, and all found near one spot, nor did any other portion of the deposit seem fossiliferous. the clay was in front of and below our encampment, and was covered by coarse alluvial conglomerate. [sidenote: the road rejoins the piti valley. _august, ._] the road up the valley of the parang river being tabooed to us by the jealousy of the chinese government, it became necessary to make a very considerable _détour_, no practicable road being known in the mountains north of piti, between that which we were thus prevented from following, and the parang pass, to reach which we had to make five or six marches up the piti river before turning to the north. on leaving kyuri, on the th of august, we ascended gently on a bare gravelly hill for several hundred feet, and then proceeded for two miles to the westward, along the steep side of the mountain. the road was rocky and very barren, the caper and an _astragalus_ being almost the only plants seen. we then descended rapidly, so as to reach the bank of the piti river, at the place where it makes its great bend and assumes a southerly direction. here it is joined by the giu (gumdo of jacquemont), a considerable stream, which has its source in the lofty and inaccessible range to the north. this torrent had excavated a deep channel in the alluvial beds, which were composed of alternations of coarse incoherent conglomerate and fine clay. in this ravine, which sheltered them from the bleak winds of the more exposed slopes, i found a luxuriant growth of shrubs; of which the commonest forms were the rose, ash, _colutea_, _rhamnus_, _myricaria_, _capparis_, _ephedra_, and _artemisiæ_. as soon as the stream was passed, a steep ascent commenced, but the luxuriant vegetation at once disappeared, and the road was as barren, dusty, and stony as usual. we ascended only to descend again, and encamped on a small level spot forty or fifty feet above the piti river, destitute of cultivation or inhabitants, but known to the people of the district by the name of huling. on our next day's journey, the country at first presented the same general character. the mountains along the road were lofty and rugged, and sloped steeply to the river. a mass of alluvial deposit generally rested on their bases, and the road lay at no great distance above the river, rising a few hundred feet to pass over the spurs, and again descending on their western sides. the steep slopes were in several places covered with an incrustation of hard angular breccia, with a calcareous matrix, the origin of which i conceive to have been the same as that of the breccia noticed in the vicinity of sungnam. across the river there was a considerable tract of level ground, covered with cultivation surrounding a small village, with a few poplar and willow trees; but the left bank, on which we travelled, was entirely barren. nearly opposite this village, the bank of the river becoming steep and precipitous, we ascended about a thousand feet, and continued at that elevation till the difficulty was passed, after which we returned to the river-side. at this elevation two or three springs broke out on the steep face of the hill, and, trickling down among the rocks below, promoted the growth of a few willows and rose-bushes, and a small thicket of _hippophaë_. round the springs the ground was covered with a slight saline exudation. [sidenote: lari. _august, ._] the village of lari, at which we encamped, is elevated , feet. it occupies a large extent of alluvial surface, sloping at a very small angle from the base of the mountains to the river, at a place where a stream issued from among the mountains. the cultivated lands are extensive, but very bare of trees when compared with the villages in kunawar, or even in hangarang. one apricot-tree only could be seen in the village lands, but there were still a few willows and poplars. the flora of the cultivated tracts had not altered. the little _iris_, first seen at chango, was very common, and the gentians, _potentillæ_, _astragali_, and other small plants, were the same as had been common since crossing the hangarang pass; the season, however, was so far advanced, that much of the luxuriant vegetation had withered away. the crops of wheat and barley were quite ripe, and had been partly cut; but a few fields of millet were still green. [sidenote: mountains of piti. _august, ._] in the neighbourhood of lari, the piti valley is considerably more open than lower down. it had, indeed, been gradually expanding since we joined it at lio. the mountains now recede considerably from the river, a long sloping surface of alluvium being interposed, which is at one time largely developed on the north side of the river, in which case the southern spur generally projects. a little further on, the northern mountains send down a projecting spur, and an open tract is seen to the south. the mountains behind the alluvial platforms rise very abruptly, and present towards the plain, steep, almost perpendicular slopes, which, from the peculiar nature of the rock, a very fragile slate, are covered by a steeply-sloping mass of _débris_ almost to the top. this talus, indeed, on some of the cliffs behind lari, seems to rise to the very summit of the ridges. it is not easy to convey an idea in words of the mode in which these mountains are arranged, unless it is recollected that it is an universal rule that all mountains are ramifications of an axis, giving off branches on both sides, and that each branch is again divided in a similar manner, till the ultimate divisions are arrived at. all mountainous districts are in this respect similar to one another, and differ principally in the proportion borne by the altitude to the superficial extent of the ranges of which they are composed. an examination of the map will show that the axis of the range which lies north of the piti valley, passes through the parang pass, and in fact occupies the midway between the piti and parang rivers, terminating in the great bend of the latter, to the east of its junction with the piti. the whole of this range is of great altitude, and it seems to rise in elevation to the eastward, no passage being known further east than the parang pass. the primary branches of this chain, descending towards the piti valley, are separated by considerable tributaries which discharge themselves into that river. in general, these lateral streams have, in the lower part of their course, very rugged rocky channels, but they rise rapidly, and, at a distance of a few miles from the main river, their ravines expand into open valleys, three or four thousand feet above its level. the ramifications of the primary branches are, as might be expected, in their upper part concealed among the mountains, but those near their termination abut upon the main valley, in a series of ridges separated by little streamlets. we have, therefore, as we ascend the piti river, not a wall of mountain, parallel to its course, but a succession of ridges, more or less perpendicular to it, all descending from a great elevation, and rapidly diminishing in height. the result is necessarily a great degree of irregularity, the width of the alluvial belt varying much, while the direction of the ridges, and of the cliffs by which they are bounded, is constantly changing. [sidenote: alluvial platforms. _september, ._] leaving lari on the st of september, we continued our journey up the piti valley. the road lay partly on the platforms of alluvial conglomerate, and partly over the steep shingly talus which rested on the hills where they were not separated by alluvium from the river. one alluvial plain, about two miles from lari, was well cultivated with the usual crops, the barley being quite ripe, the wheat very nearly so, the oil-seed and buckwheat out of flower, and the millet, of which there were only a few fields, still green. the platforms of alluvium have, in general, an irregularly triangular form, the base resting on the river, the apex at the termination of a mountain ravine, down which a stream runs. this stream, instead of bisecting the platform, usually runs in a hollow channel on one side or other between the mountains and the alluvium, and is, where practicable, carried off in small artificial conduits for the purposes of irrigation. the platforms always slope gently from their apex to the river, and they are generally cut off in a cliff at the lower end. these cliffs always show marks of stratification, sensibly parallel to the river, and the pebbles which the alluvium contains, are (and have been for the last two days) usually rounded. i ought not to omit to mention, that i use the word _alluvium_ merely as a convenient mode of expression, without meaning to convey an idea of the mode in which these beds originate. no equally suitable word suggests itself, and the phenomena occur so frequently, that it is necessary to have some short expression by which to describe them. the origin of these alluvia is certainly very puzzling. at first sight, in any particular spot, the most natural suggestion is, that they have been deposited under water, and probably therefore in a lake. their occurrence day after day, notwithstanding the greatest changes of altitude, their enormous thickness in many places, and the peculiar position in which they occur, soon dispel this idea, and throw the observer into a maze of doubt and difficulty, at last leading him to the conclusion, that no one cause is sufficient to explain the highly variable phenomena which he observes, and that a lengthened series of patient observations will be necessary before the subject can be understood. these observations have yet to be supplied, but i believe i shall best serve future observers, by detailing as fully as possible the points which attracted my attention, without attempting for the present to speculate upon the causes of the phenomena. the suggestions which i have to offer to the reader, will be best understood when i have detailed all the facts upon which they are founded. it is especially necessary to distinguish between three forms of alluvium, all of which have already occurred in piti. these are, first, the fine clay; secondly, the platforms, such as i have described in the last paragraph; and thirdly, the enormous masses, which are without any definite limits, and do not seem referable to any present valley system. [sidenote: pok. _september, ._] we encamped at pok, a large village nearly nine miles from lari. here we found again an extensive alluvial platform, covered with much cultivation; and on the mountain ravine above the village there was a considerable grove of young juniper-trees. a week or two before, i should have considered them as scattered trees; now they had quite the appearance of a forest, so bare had the country been since crossing hangarang. west of pok, our journey of the nd of september was over the alluvial platform, which continued for two miles beyond the cultivation of the village, gradually contracting in width by the encroachment of successive spurs, which at last advanced close to the river. the road now ascended by a short steep path on the mountain-side, to a higher level. at the base of this ascent there were a great many angular masses of limestone, evidently transported from the valleys behind. these fragments were very numerous, and many of them of great size. they continued abundant during a great part of the day, but no limestone was seen _in situ_. i have not preserved any record of the exact position of these angular fragments with regard to the valleys behind, but i have little doubt that they will be found to be of glacial origin, such being certainly the case in many other similar instances. the limestone was very compact, of a blue or grey colour, and many of the fragments were almost full of coralline remains. i collected many fossiliferous specimens, which were afterwards despatched from hanle to simla by a messenger, on whom we thought we could rely, but they never reached their destination[ ]. [sidenote: dankar. _september, ._] we encamped at dankar, after travelling ten miles. this place is the principal village of the piti valley, and is , feet above the level of the sea. the valley of the piti is here very wide, and divided into numerous channels, which are separated by low gravelly islands, the whole width of the river being not less than half a mile. here the alluvium is very highly developed, lying in patches on the face of the steep hills. the village of dankar, though feet above the river, occupies both sides of a steep ridge entirely composed of alluvium. nor is this its utmost limit; for several hundred feet above the houses, similar alluvial masses occur. these beds are not, however, continuous from these great elevations, down to the level of the river: they rest, on the contrary, on the ancient rocks, which are here very steep, and the clay may be seen in isolated projecting masses, capping the most prominent ridges[ ]. [sidenote: rangrig. _september, ._] the village of dankar is built on arid barren soil, but the cultivated lands stretch from about the level of the village almost to the river, on a very steep slope. thickets of _hippophaë_ were scattered among the cultivation, where the ground was swampy; and notwithstanding the great altitude, the exposure being favourable, the crops seemed good, and the wild plants were more luxuriant than usual. one of the new species observed was a pretty gentian (_g. moorcroftiana_, wall.), interesting as having been one of the few plants sent from the tibetan country by the unfortunate traveller whose name it bears. it is also a common species in the valley of dras, in which, perhaps, mr. moorcroft's specimens were collected, unless, indeed, they were obtained in piti by mr. trebeck, during his journey to that valley from ladak. leaving dankar on the morning of the rd of september, we ascended the heights behind the village to the side of the main ridge behind, along which we proceeded without change of level. the mountain was almost precipitous, and extremely barren, but commanded a fine view of the open flat plain of the piti river, descending from the north-west; and of the course of the pin, a large tributary which descends from the south-west, at the source of which there is a pass, by which it is possible to descend upon the sutlej at wangtu. the mountain range interposed between the sutlej and piti valleys was, from the elevation at which we now stood, seen to great advantage. these mountains are, indeed, in the terse words of jacquemont, "d'une affreuse stérilité;" yet, in their varied outline, massive forms, and snow-sprinkled summits, there is no doubt a degree of grandeur, which produces a powerful impression. at about a mile and a half from dankar, during which we had, with the ridge, gradually approached the river, the road began to descend, and we at last reached the bank of the river, close to which, and sometimes even on its gravelly bed, we continued for several miles. where the banks were lowest, and the gravel was moist, there were thickets of low shrubs, _hippophaë_, _myricaria_, _ribes_, and willow; elsewhere, the gravel was barren and unproductive. we encamped at lara, a village nine miles from dankar, at which there were only two poplar trees, and a very small extent of arable ground. the wheat was ripe and very luxuriant, the ears being large and well filled. on the th of september, we continued our progress up the piti valley, which had quite the same aspect as on the day before, encamping on the left bank of the river, opposite to the village of rangrig, on a desert spot among limestone rocks, at an elevation of , feet. here we had attained our furthest limit in a north-westerly direction, our road now turning to the right, and ascending a considerable valley towards the parang pass, in a direction which promised much novelty and interest, as it had only been traversed by one traveller, the unfortunate trebeck, who, in the year , travelled from le to dankar by this route. the further course of the piti river, which, as we learn from moorcroft's travels, was visited in by captain mercer, was afterwards surveyed by captain broome. it communicates with lahul, which is the upper part of the valley of the chandrabhaga or chenab river, by the kulzum pass, a depression in that great branch of the trans-sutlej himalaya, by which the waters of the sutlej and its tributaries on the east, are separated from those of the chenab and beas. during our journey through the district of piti, the weather had been almost uniformly dry and serene, though we were now in the very height of the indian rainy season. the only exception occurred while we were encamped at changar, on the lower part of the parang river, about the th of august, when the sky was for two days very cloudy, and on one night it rained gently for nearly half an hour. the clouds were, however, high, and never dense, and the unsettled state of the atmosphere was of very short continuance. while it lasted, it was accompanied by violent wind, very irregular in direction. [sidenote: saline incrustations. _september, ._] in every part of piti we found the margins of springs, and the grassy turf which grew on low swampy spots along the river, covered with a saline incrustation, in the form of a dry efflorescence, which encrusted the blades of grass. it appeared to be confined to the vicinity of water, the barren rocky tracts being destitute of it. this saline matter, as elsewhere in tibet, consists of sesquicarbonate of soda, and, as a consequence of the abundance of that alkali, soda-producing plants were common, especially _chenopodiaceæ_, among which the common _salsola kali_ was very abundant. [sidenote: piti. _september, ._] the district of piti, which was formerly almost independent, but paid tribute to, or exchanged presents with, all the tibetan countries in its neighbourhood, namely, with garu, ladak, and lahul, as well as with kunawar, followed in the fortunes of lahul in being transferred to british rule. it is a very thinly populated valley, the villages being small and distant, and the arable tracts of no great extent. the mountains on its southern border, by which it is separated from kunawar, are so very elevated that they entirely intercept all access of humidity from the districts to the northward of them, and render the climate entirely rainless. the houses are in consequence very generally built of unburnt bricks, made of the fine lacustrine clay so common in the valleys, and their flat roofs are thickly covered with a layer of the same material. footnotes: [ ] the distant snowy mountains seen from the top of the hangarang pass are probably those due north of zungsam and east of the parang pass, which major cunningham, from some angles obtained on our journey, estimated (i believe, but quote from memory) at nearly , feet. [ ] la, in western tibet, seems to mean always a _pass_. to the eastward it is often translated _mountain_. [ ] jacquemont writes this name _khiri_. i follow the orthography which i find in my notes made at the time. [ ] this limestone will, i believe, turn out to be the counterpart of the limestones of silurian age, which form one of the most interesting results of the labours of captain r. strachey, in kumaon and garhwal. [ ] a very excellent sketch of the fort and village of dankar, by mr. trebeck, is given in moorcroft's travels, in which the appearance and position of the alluvial masses is well represented. chapter v. leave valley of piti river -- kibar -- cultivation above , feet -- vegetation of mountains -- rocky gorge -- encampment at , feet -- parang pass -- snow-bed and glacier -- first plants at , feet -- parang valley -- gorge leading to chumoreri lake -- kiang, or wild horse -- chumurti -- remarkable grassy plain -- lanak pass -- granite boulders -- plants above , feet -- undulating hilly country -- hanle plain -- vegetation -- monastery of hanle. our last occupation in the valley of the piti river was to make the necessary arrangements for the transport of our baggage through the deserts which were to be traversed before we should again arrive at inhabited tracts. the principal part of our effects were carried by men, but our party was so large that it was not easy to provide porters for the necessary amount of food during a journey of a week in an uninhabited country. a motley group of ponies, asses, and yaks therefore formed part of the train which accompanied us into the desert country between piti and the indus. three miles north-west of our encamping ground opposite rangrig, we left the piti river on the morning of the th of september, turning up the valley of a considerable stream which here joined the main river. the platform of alluvium on which we had been travelling continued for about half a mile up the lateral valley, and was covered with large boulders of angular fragments. the rock was limestone, the same as had occurred everywhere since leaving lara. a little village called ki, and a large monastery, situated on a curious, seemingly isolated, conical hill above the village, were passed on the right hand. soon after, the ascent became rapid on a steep ridge to the east of the stream, and the piti valley was completely shut out from view as we got in among the mountains. the ridge by which we ascended was barren and stony, and produced little vegetation. a curious broad-leaved _allium_ was the only novelty. we continued to ascend along the stream till we reached the village of kibar, at which we encamped, at an elevation of , feet, in a narrow valley surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains. [sidenote: kibar. _september, ._] kibar is rather a pleasing-looking village, remarkable for its houses being all built of stone, instead of the mud or unburnt brick so commonly used in the valley of piti. it is situated on the summit of a limestone rock, on the right bank of the stream. our tents were on a patch of green-sward on the opposite bank, separated from the village by a deep ravine. crossing this on the morning of the th, we ascended the slope of the hill above the village, among cultivation which rose on the hill-side fully feet higher. except one field of oil-seed, the crops were all barley, which was ripe, and partly cut: it was apparently very poor, being thin and deficient in ear. after leaving the cultivation, we continued to ascend on the ridge, till we attained an elevation of nearly , feet, at which height the road wound round the sides of hills, without any considerable change of level, for two or three miles. it was still early morning, and the air was very frosty. every little rill was covered with a thick coating of ice, and some small swamps which we passed were crisp with frost. [sidenote: vegetation. _september, ._] notwithstanding the considerable elevation, i noticed but little in the vegetation different from that common in piti. the forms were by no means so alpine as on the passes between kunawar and hangarang, though the elevation was greater than on any of these. it was probably owing to the aridity of the climate that the flora, at elevations of , feet, instead of being composed of delicate alpine plants, was much the same as it had been feet lower. the rose, the common _rhamnus_ of piti, a little shrubby _potentilla_, a spinous _astragalus_, and several _artemisiæ_, were the common shrubs, and two species of rhubarb grew abundantly on the dry hills above kibar. the _dama_, which shuns the level country, the _allium_ first observed the day before, and _lamium rhomboideum_ of the hangarang pass, were almost the only striking plants observed; all the others were those of the ordinary flora of the dry hills and gravelly plains of the piti valley. it is necessary, of course, in comparing this vegetation with that of the passes, to recollect that we were here in a valley, on slopes surrounded on all sides by lofty ridges, not on the summit of a range overlooking everything around, or only surpassed a very little by the continuation of the same ridge; so that the temperature of the summer months must be considerably higher than on the more exposed though less elevated passes. [sidenote: rocky gorge. _september, ._] further on, the road descended rapidly to the stream, which flowed in a rocky gorge, through which we held our course for three miles. a few willows, and stunted shrubs of _myricaria_, occurred on the descent, and the willow was found occasionally on the banks of the stream in the gorge, which was enclosed by high and steep limestone rocks on both sides. these gradually contracted as we advanced, but again expanded at the point where we encamped, which was close to the bank of the stream. the ravine being now more open, we could see the hills to better advantage, and were struck with astonishment at the desolation by which we were surrounded. we were, in truth, in a wilderness of rocks, which to the south closed together, so as to shut in the ravine by which we had ascended. high walls of cliffs rose on either hand to an elevation of at least feet, displaying a natural section of a multitude of strata, which seemed to be repeated again and again in a succession of beds of limestone and slate. the elevation of our encampment was , feet. on the th of september, the wish of our guides and porters according with our own, we did not cross the parang pass, which was still five miles distant, and nearly feet above us, but contented ourselves by ascending to the highest water, perhaps feet below the summit. we ascended on a steep shingly ridge to the right of the stream where we had passed the night. tufts of _lamium rhomboideum_ grew among the loose shingle, but no other plant seemed to vegetate in such an ungenial soil. when we had passed from the shingle, which was confined to the base of the ascent, the ridge was dry and gravelly, with tufts of _dama_ and of a species of nettle. above , feet, the spur was rocky and uneven, and some alpine vegetation was observed, for which i conjecture that the melting of the snow had probably supplied moisture, as lower down the sterility had been complete. about fifteen species were collected, two _potentillæ_, _biebersteinia odora_, a _lychnis_, a little tufted saxifrage, and species of _nepeta_, _artemisia_, _gnaphalium_, _saussurea_, _allardia_, _polygonum_, _rheum_, _blitum_, one grass, and a fern. three or four lichens grew on the stones, and i obtained one specimen of a moss without fructification. the _allardia_, a pretty little rose-coloured flower, with an agreeable smell, was the only new species; all the others were already familiar to me. they grew in the crevices of the rocks, in extremely small quantity, struggling as it were for existence against the unfavourable circumstances to which they were exposed. [sidenote: ascent towards the parang pass. _september, ._] a stony ravine, elevated about , feet, was the place selected for our encampment. a small stream, supplied by a patch of snow a little way above, trickled down under the angular gravel. the ascent had been extremely fatiguing, because almost without intermission, and we were glad of rest on reaching that elevation. during the day, however, i ascended a ridge of rugged rocks, which rose above our tents to a height of more than feet, being desirous of ascertaining to what elevation i should find vegetation. an _alsine_ was common among the gravel, with two small plants which were not in a determinable state; and on the rocks, to the highest level to which i succeeded in ascending (probably , feet), the little _allardia_ continued to occur occasionally. the ridge afforded a good view of the mountains round. the range to the north, which we had still to cross, lay in a semicircle behind; to the east was the continuation of the ridge by which we ascended; and a deep hollow lay to the west. rugged rock everywhere met the view. the slates which alternated with the limestone were so very brittle that they everywhere formed piles of angular fragments, which filled all the hollows, and formed a sloping talus against every precipice. the view was one not to be forgotten, its desolation far surpassing any conception of waste and utter barrenness which i could have formed. during the whole day i was never free from a dull headache, evidently caused by the great elevation. rest relieved it, but the least exertion brought it back again. it continued all evening, as long as i was awake, and still remained in the morning of the th, when i rose soon after daybreak to prepare for the journey. a few paces took us beyond the shingly ravine in which we had been encamped, and the remainder of the ascent was throughout over loose angular fragments, the _débris_ of the cliffs on the right. under the latter we passed, winding round the side of the semicircular bay, till we got to about its centre, when the ascent became excessively steep and toilsome. the exertion of raising the body was very fatiguing, and the last few hundred yards were only accomplished after many pauses. a few large patches of snow lay in hollows along the road; but up to the very crest of the pass there was no trace of perpetual snow, nor even any continuous snow-bed. [sidenote: the parang pass. _september, ._] the summit of the parang pass is a narrow ridge, covered with large blocks of stone. to the north lay a large field of snow, sloping downwards at a very gentle angle. in this direction the view was limited within two miles by steep rugged mountains, which closed in on both sides. to the right and left also, the pass was overlooked by ridges close at hand. the only direction in which a distant view was obtained was south, where the mountains beyond the piti river were beautifully seen: from the great elevation at which we stood, their summits were everywhere in view; their elevation was surprisingly uniform, and the whole range was capped with snow. the mountains close at hand presented much the same appearance as i had seen from the rocks above our encampment the day before. [sidenote: glacier. _september, ._] i reached the summit of the pass, which has an elevation of , feet, at a quarter before eight in the morning. at that time the temperature was °; and a cold southerly wind blew with considerable violence, making us seek the shelter of the blocks which lay around. a small red lichen, (_lecanora miniata_,) on the fragments of rock, was the only vegetable production i observed. after an hour's rest, we commenced the descent over the snow-bed, proceeding towards a gap which was visible in the mountains. the snow was hard frozen, and crisp under the feet. descending steadily without any fatigue, we were soon evidently on a snow-covered glacier. a few fissures were passed, but mostly not above a few inches wide, and none that we could not with ease step over, the widest not exceeding two feet. at a distance of about a mile and a half from the crest, the mountains, which on both sides surrounded the snow-bed in the form of a circle, had so much approached to one another, that they formed a narrow valley, down which the snowy mass continued in the form of a rugged glacier. we now left the surface of the ice, and proceeded along the stony side of the ravine, with the glacier on our left hand, and steep limestone rocks on our right. blocks of limestone strewed our path as we descended, and numerous small fragments of the same rock covered the edge of the glacier. about three miles from the summit of the pass the glacier terminated abruptly in a bluff precipice, the height of which was more than feet. little rills of water were, at the time we passed ( ½ a.m.), trickling from every part of the surface, and a small streamlet ran along the edge of the glacier under an arch of ice. the structure was here very evident: broad white bands, and narrower ones of a dirty colour, from the earthy matter which they had absorbed, ran parallel to the slope of the ravine, the arches or loops (so well explained by professor forbes in his delightful work on the glaciers of the alps) being drawn out to a great length. at the termination of the glacier, we descended from the steep mountain-side, along which we had hitherto travelled, to the flat plain, the continuation of the surface on which the glacier rested. on this descent the first vegetation appeared at an elevation of about , feet. two small grasses, _biebersteinia odora_, a _lychnis_, and a little villous _astragalus_, were the plants observed: they grew in the crevices of the rock, and scarcely rose above the ground. none of the species were different from those collected in the mountains of piti. [sidenote: the parang valley. its vegetation. _september, ._] when we had reached the middle of the valley, so as to be exactly in face of the glacier, we found that a large stream issued from a vaulted cavity at its termination. for some hundred feet the stream ran among large masses of ice, as if the glacier had very recently extended further, and had melted away irregularly, leaving these masses standing. leaving the glacier, we still followed the valley, which was confined on both sides by steep cliffs. we kept close to the stream, walking over its gravelly bed, and i collected a few more plants as i descended; none, however, new to me. a little _nepeta_, four species of _potentilla_, a _gnaphalium_, several grasses and _carices_, and a very small fern, were the species. about three miles from the end of the glacier we found our tents pitched on a small plain, connected with a lateral ravine, and covered with tufts of _dama_, and a little species of _alsine_ in flat tufts, which was quite new to me. the elevation of our encampment was , feet. we followed the course of the valley into which we had thus descended, for three days, without meeting with any inhabitants, and through so uniform a country, that it is unnecessary to detail each day's journey. rugged and rocky mountains, of moderate elevation, principally limestone, bounded the view on both sides. in front we seldom saw more than a few miles; and behind, the view was in general equally limited, though occasionally we could see, up a lateral valley, the peak of a snowy mountain. the valley was almost invariably wide and level, once or twice only interrupted by projecting ridges of low rocks advancing to its centre. low platforms of alluvium, like those of piti, occupied the wider parts, their upper angles resting (as in piti) on the opening of lateral ravines, while their bases were cut into cliffs by the stream. during these three days we descended from , to about , feet. the surrounding mountains were quite barren and desolate. the gravelly plains were covered with tufts of _dama_ and of the curious tufted _alsine_, which formed dense flattened hassock-like masses, of considerable size. the soil was very saline, and as we descended it gradually became more so. in the earlier part of the descent, the alpine forms were the same as those to the south of the parang pass, and the plants were few in number and much scattered. lower down, however, more novelty was met with. a little willow was the first shrubby plant, and was followed by _ephedra_, _myricaria_, and _hippophaë_, all much stunted. still lower there were large patches of green-sward along the stream, generally swampy, and always covered with a saline incrustation. _artemisiæ_, _astragali_, _gentianæ_, and _potentillæ_, were the commonest forms, with a number of saline plants, chiefly _chenopodiaceæ_, which abounded on the lowest spots. on the th, the last of these three days, the vegetation had quite lost its alpine character, notwithstanding that the elevation was still , feet. no _biebersteinia_ was seen, and the little species of _potentilla_, _alsine_, _saxifraga_, _cruciferæ_, and _parnassia_, were no longer met with. the large _hyoscyamus_ of piti (_belenia_ of decaisne) had made its appearance, with tall _artemisiæ_, a _clematis_, a rank-growing _corydalis_, _cicer soongaricum_, and other plants in no way alpine. i was much surprised to observe so complete a change in so moderate a descent, and very much interested to find that the alpine flora had so completely disappeared. i regret that i am as yet unable to give my results in more perfect form, the necessary comparison and determination of the species collected still remaining to be done. [sidenote: chumoreri. _september, ._] during our descent we had gradually taken a more easterly course, and on the th our direction was nearly due east. on this day we passed the gorge in the mountains, up which the road turns to the chumoreri lake, by which mr. trebeck had travelled to and from ladakh. this would have been our most direct route to le, but we were desirous of visiting the more eastern districts, so as to reach the indus as soon as possible. the mountains in this gorge suddenly lowered; a wide gravelly plain sloped gently up to a low ridge, which did not appear to rise higher than two or three hundred feet above the level of the parang river. beyond this ridge, on the assurance of our guides, confirmed by major cunningham, who had on a former occasion travelled along the chumoreri lake as far as its southern extremity, lies the lake, without any more considerable elevation separating it from the parang river. it is much to be regretted that the late period of the season, and the other important objects which we had to accomplish, should have prevented us from crossing this narrow neck of land. it would probably have thrown much light upon the question of the origin and nature of the salt lakes, which are, as is well known, scattered over tibet, central asia, and siberia. the chumoreri lake has certainly no outlet, but from the nature of the surrounding mountains, everywhere steep and lofty, there can be no doubt that at one period its waters were discharged at its south end by the narrow valley which we saw from the south side of the parang river[ ]. an accurate determination of the height of the separating ridge above the present surface of the lake, a careful examination of the configuration of the surface at its southern end, and an analysis of the water, which is described as sufficiently brackish to be unpleasant though not absolutely undrinkable, would certainly enable conclusions to be drawn as to the nature of the cause which has lowered the level of the waters of the lake, and so put an end to its discharge. [sidenote: wild horse. _september, ._] in the plain which sloped gently upwards from the parang river towards the chumoreri lake, we saw for the first time a kiang, or wild horse, but at too great a distance to enable his shape and appearance to be distinctly made out; and the river, which was interposed between us, prevented our approaching nearer. we afterwards frequently saw these animals, but from their extreme wariness, and the open nature of the country, we were never fortunate enough, notwithstanding repeated trials, to get within gunshot distance of them. they appear to abound at elevations between , and , feet, on the open undulating tracts on the summits of the mountain ranges, and to avoid valleys and rocky districts, where they would be liable to surprise. [sidenote: the parang valley. _september, ._] to the eastward of the former outlet of the lake, the valley of the parang river was more contracted than it had been in any previous part of its course. rocky hills, projecting from the southern mountains, advanced so close to the river, that no passage was practicable along their base, and the road several times ascended several hundred feet to cross these ridges. this obstruction was, however, but temporary, lasting only for a few miles, beyond which the valley expanded into a very wide plain, extending for five or six miles in an easterly direction, by about half that distance from north to south. the borders of this wide expanse were very low platforms, almost horizontal, and not more than from six to ten feet above the river. the middle portion was a plain of gravel, scarcely higher than the level of the stream, and evidently occasionally submerged. here the river bends rapidly round towards the south-east. the district at which we had now arrived is called chumurti, and about eight or ten miles to the east of our encampment on the th of september, is a village or assemblage of tents called chumur, from which we obtained a supply of porters, to relieve the party who had accompanied us from piti. here also, in accordance with the instructions we had received on leaving simla, captain strachey left us, with the intention of following the course of the parang river, as far as he conveniently could, and then turning to the left across one of the passes of the great trans-sutlej chain to the indus. major cunningham and myself, on the other hand, proposed to proceed by the direct, and equally unknown, route to hanle, and thence to visit the indus, and proceed to le. [sidenote: the parang river. _september, ._] the parang river, whose source is in the mountains immediately north of the parang pass, has, as we have seen, at first a northerly direction, but gradually bends more and more to the eastward and southward, and finally has a nearly south-west course, where it joins the piti river, nearly opposite shialkar. its source, as well as its confluence with the piti river, are within the british territory; but the most important, because the most populous, part of its course lies within the chinese border. the boundary of the chinese district runs nearly from north-east to south-west, passing a little to the west of rodok, and crossing the indus at the village of chibra, where mr. trebeck was stopped in his attempt to penetrate up the indus; thence a little south of haule, and across the course of the parang river. it then bends more towards the south, and again crosses the parang at the point where we were stopped in the end of august, whence its direction is nearly due south as far as nilang, on the jahnavi branch of the ganges. the parang river being a tributary of the sutlej, by crossing the great chain at the parang pass we had not reached the indus valley, but had descended into a lateral valley still connected with the drainage of the sutlej. the great line of watershed between the indus and sutlej lay still before us. this chain, which is the prolongation of kailas, must be called the trans-sutlej himalaya, unless the name himalaya be restricted to the chain south of the sutlej, in which case the mountains of lahul, kishtawar, and kashmir, would lose their claim to that appellation. [sidenote: ascent towards lanak pass. _september, ._] towards this chain, which we were to cross by the lanak pass, we commenced our journey on the morning of the th of september. our road lay across the parang river, which flowed in several channels among the wide expanse of gravel which here formed its bed. the morning was bitterly cold, and the water almost icy, to the great discomfort of our porters. the largest stream was perhaps twenty-five feet wide and two and a half deep, with a moderately rapid current. after crossing the river we took a northerly direction, leaving the valley or plain of the parang river, and ascending an open, almost level valley, bounded by low hills. the mountains on the left, which were interposed between our route and the chumoreri lake, were the most rugged in sight. in the centre of the plain was the channel of a stream, very shingly, but without water, along which, or on alluvial banks only a few feet higher, we gradually advanced. the level of our camp on the parang river had been , feet; and from this we were now gradually but imperceptibly rising. the hills on either hand were rounded and low, but increased in height as we receded from the parang river. the soil was very barren, and showed many indications of salt. scattered plants of _salsola_ were common, with _christolea_, a pretty cruciferous plant, with purple flowers and fleshy wedge-shaped leaves, tasting strongly of horse-radish, which has been described by decaisne from specimens collected by jacquemont in piti. a little white _alyssum_, which i had not previously met with, was also very common. four miles from the parang river we reached a flat grassy plain of considerable extent, with deep black soil, in which meandered a very slowly running stream, perhaps twelve feet wide, which seemed to have an outlet by an open valley on our right, and to join the parang some miles to the east of where we left it. a great part of this plain was swampy, the turf rising in little knolls, but round the edges and in all the higher parts it was covered with a thick incrustation of white efflorescent salt. to the north and east, low gently-sloping hills as barren as ever rose from the edge of the green plain; and in the north-east corner, close to the foot of the hills, a large fountain, discharging copiously clear tasteless cold water, was evidently the source of the stream which flowed over the plain. the grassy turf produced a considerable number of plants, not a few of which were new to me. an _umbellifera_, an _aster_ with large purple flowers, a _saussurea_, and two species of _pedicularis_, one with white, the other with yellow flowers, were very common, as were also a species of _triglochin_, a white _juncus_, several _carices_, and three or four very beautiful grasses. in the shallow water of the pools scattered over the plain, a species of alga was common, floating without attachment. it was a broad foliaceous green plant, and has been determined by the rev. m. j. berkeley to be a species of _nostoc_, closely allied to, if not identical with _n. commune_, a species which occurs in all parts of the globe. after crossing this plain, and stopping to rest by the fountain, we began to ascend the long slopes of the hills, partly on a level ridge, partly along the wide sloping valleys by which the low hills were separated. both hills and plain were frightfully arid, the aspect of the country being of an uniform grey colour; and coarse gravel, with scattered stones of larger size, everywhere covered the surface. the ascent was very inconsiderable till towards the end of the day's journey. the distance travelled was about ten miles, and we encamped at about , feet, on the left bank of a small stream which descended from the north, the borders of which were swampy and covered with green turf, in which the common plants of the country occurred, such as little gentians, _ranunculi_, _parnassia_, several _polygona_ and _potentillæ_, _carices_, and grasses. on the west bank of the stream was a low ridge of clay-slate rocks, while on the right and in the valley was a heap of granite boulders; no doubt an ancient moraine, for the fragments were piled on one another to a great height, and rose far above the stream as well as the ordinary level of the plain. [sidenote: lanak pass. _september, ._] on the th of september we crossed the lanak pass, which lay before us at a distance of about five miles. from our encampment the mountains appeared easy of access and rounded in outline, and we commenced the ascent by a nearly level walk across the gravelly plain. after a mile and a half we rejoined the stream, and kept along it for a little way. its banks were green with a narrow belt of turf; and the bed was often rocky, the rock being still clay-slate, notwithstanding the granite boulders everywhere scattered about. the edges of the stream were frozen, spiculæ of thin ice adhering to the herbage. the vegetation was quite alpine, the elevation being certainly above , feet. a _delphinium_, which seemed the same as the _d. brunonianum_ of the hangarang pass, a little yellow saxifrage, and a white-flowered species of the same genus, which i believe to be the scottish alpine _s. cernua_, an entire-leaved yellow _ranunculus_, a _pedicularis_ with purple flowers, and some grasses, were the most remarkable plants observed. after a mile, we left the ravine and ascended to the open gently-sloping ground on its left, still rising sensibly as we advanced. the surface was, as usual, dry and gravelly, and _oxytropis chiliophylla_ and a little _stipa_ were almost the only plants. we continued nearly parallel to the ravine, and crossed it again a little further on. it was now dry, and its steep stony banks were covered with bushes of _dama_. still gradually ascending, we crossed the same ravine a third time, where its bed was upwards of , feet. there was again no water visible, but the ground was still moist, the streamlet probably, as is very general in these arid regions, trickling under the surface among the loose gravel. the little alpine nettle, which i had first found on the northern spurs of porgyul, near changar, and again on the southern face of the parang pass, was here common, as were two species of _alsine_, which formed dense tufts. a little saxifrage and the _delphinium_ were also still observed, but all the other plants had disappeared. leaving the ravine for the last time, we continued the ascent, which became steeper as we advanced. a rounded ridge lay to our right hand, and we rose nearer and nearer to its crest. fragments of granite, piled on one another in increasing numbers, covered the steep slopes. rock _in situ_ was only to be seen in one place; it was still clay-slate, containing a good deal of mica. the top of the pass was nearly level for several hundred yards, and covered with boulders, principally of granite, but a few of quartz and of a trappean rock, quite black and homogeneous. the outline of the mountains was generally rounded, and they rose gradually in both directions above the pass, which had an elevation of , feet. the view, both towards the direction in which we had come and that in which we were proceeding, was rather extensive, but from the prevailing uniformity of outline and colour it was more striking than beautiful. there were no trees or villages, no variation of surface greater than an occasional grey rock, but everywhere the same dreary sterile uniformity. nothing could be seen of lake chumoreri, which lies at least fifteen miles westward, and is surrounded by mountains, everywhere (except in the direction of the former outlet) higher than that on which we stood. the occurrence of great accumulations of boulders, of a rock different from that which occurs _in situ_ on the very summit of the pass, was quite conformable to what i had observed on some of the passes between kunawar and hangarang. it was not, however, on this account the less puzzling, nor was it till i crossed the sassar pass, in august, , that i could at all conceive in what way it was to be explained. on this pass, as i shall afterwards relate in detail, a glacier occupies the crest of the pass, descending from higher mountains to the north, and presenting a bluff termination in two directions. on the summit of the pass i collected specimens of three phenogamous plants, probably nourished by a recently melted patch of snow; for though there was none on the pass itself, nor on the descent on either side, a steep mountain, half a mile to the right, in a due northern exposure, was still covered with snow to at least five hundred feet below the level of the pass. the small quantity of snow seen in the distant view was very remarkable, and the more so as there was no indication of diminished elevation; ridge rising beyond ridge, and peak behind peak, to the utmost limits of view. the three plants which were observed were a little _arenaria_ or _stellaria_, and two cruciferous plants, one of which only was in fruit. a red lichen, the same as that seen on the parang pass, covered the stones. the descent from the lanak pass was at first gentle, but very soon became steep, to the bottom of a valley in which a small stream of water was running, derived, i suppose, from some small snow-beds in a lateral ravine out of sight, for it almost immediately disappeared under the gravel. soon after leaving the crest of the pass, we came upon clay-slate rock finely laminated, and dipping south-south-west at a high angle. the valley by which we descended gradually contracted into a rocky ravine, at last very narrow, with high precipitous walls, and full of large boulders. we encamped for the night at its junction with a large stream descending in a rocky dell from the west. around our camp, on both sides of the stream, there was an outbreak of greenstone, which had upheaved the clay-slate rocks. on the th of september we proceeded along the stream close to which we had encamped the day before. high mountains, whose summits could not be seen from the bottom of the narrow ravine, rose on both sides. the rock on both banks was clay-slate, much altered by heat, often very hard, and with numerous quartz veins; no more greenstone was observed. the stream, copious when we started, gradually disappeared as the ravine widened, and water soon lay only in pools along the gravelly bed. boulders of granite were abundant all along. after three miles the ravine opened into a wide gravelly plain, skirted by rounded hills of considerable elevation, to which the alluvial platforms sloped very gently on both sides. _christolea_, a little shrubby _artemisia_, and a small _stipa_, were the plants which grew among the gravel. [sidenote: undulating country. _september, ._] after about a mile and a half, the direction of the plain trending to the south more than was suited to our purpose, we turned to the left, to cross the ridge which ran parallel to it on the north-east. a long gravelly plain, sloping almost imperceptibly upwards, led us to the summit of the ridge, which was not more than two or three hundred feet above the plain we had left. from this pass, for such it was, though an insignificant one, an open valley, skirted on both sides by low rounded hills, ran to the north-east for nearly five miles. the appearance of the country was very remarkable. the hills were all very gentle in slope, and quite rounded in outline, so that the surface was almost undulating. it required reflection on the fact that we were traversing a tract in which the bottoms of the valleys were from , to , feet above the level of the sea, to make us aware of the very mountainous nature of the country we were passing through, which was, if any part of tibet (which i have seen) may be so called, the _table land_ north of the himalaya. the height of the mountains, too, was in fact greater than we had at first been inclined to believe, the gentleness of the slopes making us think the ridges nearer than they really were, and therefore leading to a false estimate of their height. in general they were from to feet in height, and their summits therefore from , to , feet above the level of the sea. [sidenote: open valleys. _september, ._] the open valley along which we now proceeded was remarkable in another point of view. it was quite waterless, and seemed hemmed in on both sides by hills, so that its drainage must take place in the direction of its long axis; at least, no lateral depression could be perceived on either side. about a mile from its eastern end, this plain was lower than in any other part. we had been descending along it from west to east, and we could see that beyond that point it rose gently to the eastward. the surface of the lowest part was covered with a hard shining white clay, without any of the fine gravel which abounded elsewhere. a few tufts of an _eurotia_ were the only plant which it produced. it was evident that the winter snows which fall on this isolated spot, when melted in summer, finding no exit, form a small lake, till they completely disappear by evaporation. [sidenote: hanle plain, its vegetation. _september, ._] after crossing this low clayey tract, we ascended gently for nearly a mile in an easterly direction, when the valley terminated very abruptly and unexpectedly in a precipitous descent of four or five hundred feet, the clay-slate rocks emerging suddenly from beneath the gravel at the very edge of the precipice. the road descended in a narrow gorge, which had apparently been worn by aqueous action in the almost perpendicular cliff. on emerging from this gorge, we found ourselves on the border of a very extensive perfectly level tract, seemingly surrounded by hills, and approaching in shape to a circle, though its outline, from projecting ranges of hills, was very irregular. the margins of this plain were dry and gravelly; the centre, as seen from a distance, was green, but in many places encrusted with a saline efflorescence. skirting this plain, which lay on our right, while ranges of hills, separated by wide gravelly valleys, occupied the left, we reached hanle, a buddhist monastery inhabited by about twenty lamas, built on the summit of a steep hill which rises abruptly out of the plain. we encamped in a ravine at the foot of the hill on which the monastery is built, in which the tents of the wandering population are erected when they bring their flocks into this neighbourhood. the plain of hanle, which is not, i think, less than six or eight miles in diameter, resembles very much that curious flat tract which we passed on the th of september, on the south side of the lanak pass; it is, however, much larger in dimensions. several streams, very tortuous and sluggish, wind over its surface. these were frequently three feet or more in depth, and contained multitudes of small fish, usually about six inches in length, but growing to eight or ten inches at least. they were a species of carp. we tried to eat them, but, though sweet and well-tasted, the bones were so numerous and troublesome that we relinquished the attempt. we were much interested at the occurrence of fish at an elevation of , feet, a height at which, _à priori_, it would scarcely have been expected that they would have existed. the surface of the plain was very saline, and, where not swampy, covered with coarse grasses and _cyperaceæ_. it was very uneven, hummocks or knolls being scattered over the surface, which made walking very difficult. these, i presume, were caused by the gradual growth of plants, which, in process of time, formed heaps in spots not covered by water during the melting of the snow in spring. in some parts there were extensive patches of _dama_. a species of _elymus_ and a _blysmus_ were very abundant. the ground in the vicinity of the streams was swampy, and the coarse grasses of the drier parts were replaced by little _potentillæ_, _glaux maritima_, _taraxacum_, _aster_, and a number of chenopodiaceous plants. in the running waters a _potamogeton_ and _ranunculus aquatilis_ were plentiful. the streams, which must, i believe, as in the case of the plain of the th, principally derive their supply from springs which break out on the edge of the flat country, all converge to a point at the north-east end of the plain, and, uniting into one, continue their course down an open valley in a northerly direction towards the indus. as no section of the bed of this remarkable plain is anywhere to be seen, it is not possible to form an estimate of the depth of its boggy soil, or of the nature of the subjacent deposit. it can scarcely be doubted that it has at one time been a lake, which has been gradually silted up; but it is not easy to conjecture the length of time which has elapsed since it became dry land, in the absence of any knowledge of the nature and contents of the deposits which occur beneath the surface. as an outlet for the waters of the plain exists to the northward, we may infer that the waters of the lake were always fresh. we remained two days at hanle, to effect a change of porters, a matter which cannot be accomplished in a hurry in an almost uninhabited country, without unnecessary hardships on individuals. there is no settled population except the monks or lamas; a few stone huts without roofs, which were scattered about the foot of the rock, having no tenants. to the east of the monastery, on the border of the plain, watered by an artificial channel brought with considerable labour from the river, we observed two or three small fields. the grain, which was barley, had been cut and carried away, so that harvest at hanle was over. the view from the top of the monastery was extensive, as we overlooked the whole plain to the south, and the valley of the hanle river on the east. the mountains were highest to the east, where a very lofty, steep, and irregular range, with a good deal of snow in some places, separated hanle from the indus. to the south and west, the mountains, though high, were rounded. the rock on which the monastery is built is wholly igneous, but varies from a coarse-grained granite, rapidly decaying, to a dark-coloured greenstone, with large crystals scattered through it. close to the foot of the hill, the clay-slate was in a few places visible, considerably altered by igneous action, as was to be expected from its proximity to the greenstone. footnotes: [ ] i state these facts on the authority of major cunningham. captain h. strachey visited this district in , and will, i hope, soon make public his observations. he has ascertained that the surface of the lake is , feet above the level of the sea. chapter vi. descend hanle river -- unsettled weather -- encamp on banks of indus -- upper course of indus -- pugha ravine -- forest of myricaria-trees -- borax plain -- hot springs -- borax lakes of eastern tibet -- sulphur mine -- pulokanka pass -- salt lake -- lacustrine clays with shells -- ancient water-mark -- rupchu -- tunglung pass -- fall of snow -- alluvial conglomerate -- giah -- narrow ravine -- miru -- upshi -- indus valley -- marsilang -- richly cultivated plain of chashut -- bridge over indus -- le -- buddhist edifices. on the th of september we left hanle, _en route_ to le. our road lay down the left bank of the river by which the waters of the lake-plain are discharged into the indus. the valley through which it flowed was open and level, and its slope imperceptible. on the left lay a low range of hills, an irregular mass increasing much in width, as well as in height, as we proceeded northwards, the hanle extremity being the termination where it slopes into the plain. on the right, a very lofty range, some of the peaks of which were certainly not less than , feet in elevation, ran parallel to our course, separating the open valley of the hanle river from the indus. [sidenote: hanle river. _september, ._] the width of the valley varied from one to three miles. the stream was very winding, crossing from side to side, and often pressing the road close to the spurs of the range on the left. the range on this side was principally clay-slate, with occasional outbreaks of trap, which had in many places converted the stratified rock into a hard red or green jasper. from the immediate proximity of the igneous rock the stratified masses were very much contorted, and no regular dip was observable. saline efflorescence occurred everywhere in great quantity in the vicinity of the stream; as a consequence, chenopodiaceous plants were more than usually abundant, and i collected at least three species of that family which i had not previously observed. the banks of the stream were everywhere bordered by a belt of green herbage, more or less broad, in which the usual species of _ranunculus_, _gentiana_, _pedicularis_, _juncus_, _cyperaceæ_, and grasses were common. _glaux maritima_ also occurred abundantly. two other european plants were found in the swamps along the course of the river, which were very interesting as a proof of the extremely european nature of the flora: these were _hippuris vulgaris_ and _limosella lacustris_. towards the end of the day's journey, _caragana versicolor_ (_dama_) became very common, covering a large extent of surface, and growing to a much greater size than i had ever before seen, with an upright stem nearly six feet in height. i could scarcely persuade myself that the species was the same as the little depressed shrubs which grew on the passes further south. two species of _myricaria_, both of which i had seen in piti, also reappeared during the day, so that we were evidently approaching a lower level and more genial climate. banks of alluvial conglomerate occurred on the sides of the valley, in the spaces between the projecting spurs of the range on the left hand, on the latter part of the day. the beds were distinctly stratified and very sandy, more or less full of rounded stones, and often passing into pure sand, which was interstratified with the coarser beds. the day was very cloudy and threatening, and a few drops of rain fell for the first time since the th of august, the weather during the whole of that interval having been brilliant and quite dry. we encamped eleven miles from hanle, on a gravelly plain close to the river. dining the night the weather did not improve, but continued very cloudy, and on the morning of the th the mountains on the right side of the valley were covered with snow, down to within feet of the plain. the wind blew strongly from the northward, and the day, which was still very cloudy, was bitterly cold, and, to our feelings, extremely uncomfortable. we continued to follow the course of the hanle river, passing over long gravel flats, which alternated with turfy saline meadows. several low spurs from the mountains on the left, which projected far into the plain, making the river bend much to the right, were crossed as we proceeded. about ten miles from our morning's camp, we left the course of the river, which turned to the right and entered a rocky mountain gorge, while our road kept its northerly direction. an open valley led us to the crest of a low ridge of trap and slate, from which a very long stony monotonous valley descended to an extensive plain covered with fine mud and saline exudation, on which the only vegetation was a few tufts of _suæda_ and coarse grass. crossing this plain, on which the dry clay was in many places deeply cracked and fissured, as if it had till within a short time been under water, or at least swampy, we encamped, at an elevation of , feet, on the banks of the indus, here a muddy torpid stream, without any apparent current, about four feet deep and twenty or twenty-five feet wide. there was, however, another channel, separated from that on which we were encamped by a small island. [sidenote: river indus. _september, ._] so sluggish was the stream at the point where we joined it, that we were for a long time uncertain in which direction the current was flowing; and though we were prepared to find the indus at the end of our day's journey, the river on whose banks we were encamped was so much less than our anticipations, that we were very unwilling to be convinced that we had really arrived at the great river, to which we had so long looked forward as one of the most interesting objects of our journey. the island in the centre of the channel was a bank of very fine sand or mud, on which large flocks of wild-fowl were resting; it was very little elevated above the surface of the water, which must frequently, i should think, rise sufficiently to cover it. the bank on which we were encamped, though rather higher, was not more than four feet above the water; it was quite vertical, and composed of fine clay, without any intermixture of stones or gravel. [sidenote: upper course of the indus. _september, ._] the course of the river indus, from its source to le, has hitherto been less known than any other part in tibet; but as captain strachey, a month or two after our visit, descended along it from the chinese frontier, as far as le, the unknown portion is now very much reduced. it rises in the mountains north of the lakes of mansarawer and rawan rhad, and runs in general towards the north-east. moorcroft has described its appearance at garu or gartop, where it is a very insignificant stream; but the intervening country is so little known, except by native report, that we can scarcely be said to have an exact knowledge of the upper part of its course. there is in some maps an eastern branch laid down, but of that we have no definite information. from the arid and snowless nature of the country through which it must flow, it is probably a very small stream, but its length may be considerable. immediately above the open plain in which we joined the indus, it would appear to have a very rocky and rugged channel. such, at least, was the description given to us by our guides of the lower course of the hanle river, which we left only a few miles before it joined the indus; and as the mountains to the south-west appeared to close in very abruptly within a very short distance of our encampment, we could not doubt that the open and level plain which we found in this portion of the river's course was of limited extent, and quite an exceptional feature in the character of the country through which the indus flows. from the great elevation and abrupt slope of the range which runs parallel to the hanle river on the east, there can be no doubt that the spurs which it sends down on its north-east slope, towards the indus, must be bold and rocky; and though the hills on the left bank of the hanle river are much less elevated, yet they rise as they advance to the eastward. the descent of this river too, though very gentle in the upper part of its course, while its valley is broad, is probably very abrupt in the last few miles, where its channel is rocky and its ravine narrow. the elevation of its junction with the indus is, i believe, about , feet above the level of the sea. [sidenote: indus valley. _september, ._] on the th of september our road lay in a westerly direction down the indus. the weather was still extremely unsettled, the sky being cloudy and a violent north or north-west wind continuing to blow in frequent gusts. no rain, however, fell. the plain gradually narrowed as we advanced, and the mountains on the left approached by degrees close to the river. low grassy plains, covered with a saline incrustation, quite dry, and without any brushwood or tall herbaceous vegetation, skirted the river, the course of which we followed very closely. indeed, notwithstanding the considerable diminution of altitude, the aspect of the valley of the indus was more dreary and barren than we had for some days been accustomed to. the rocky spurs were quite bare; and even on the level tracts no vegetation was seen, excepting on the very lowest banks, which were moistened by the river. this utter sterility was no doubt due to the absence of lateral rivulets, the hills which rose on our left hand being stony and steep, and not rising to a sufficient elevation to be covered with perpetual snow, or to accumulate and retain snow-beds in their ravines till a late period of the year. the rock on the left-hand mountains during the day was quite different from any that had hitherto occurred, being a conglomerate, with rounded stones of various sizes, many of them granite. the matrix was of a very dark colour, and generally extremely hard; more rarely it was a coarse sand, crumbling to pieces. this conglomerate was everywhere stratified, the beds dipping to the south-west, at an angle of about forty-five degrees. during the day the river varied much in width, being seldom less than twenty-five yards, and sometimes as much as eighty. the stream was generally very gentle, not exceeding two miles an hour, except in a few rapids, and the river was in most places fordable. we encamped on the left bank, in a place where it was shallow and wide. on the th of september we continued at first to follow the left bank of the indus, which gradually assumed a more northerly direction. the mountains on both sides approached much more closely to the river than they had done the day before, and those on the right continued extremely lofty. the river now flowed more rapidly, and was often wider and more shallow; one rapid was not less than yards in width. banks of alluvial clayey conglomerate were usually interposed between the mountains and the river, forming cliffs which attained not unfrequently an elevation of fifty feet. these were separated by projecting spurs, over which the road passed wherever they advanced so close to the centre of the valley as to prevent a passage along the level plain. some small streamlets were crossed during the day, and in consequence the vegetation was at times more varied, and at the same time more luxuriant, than it had been the day before. a few bushes of _myricaria_ were seen on the bank of the river; and in the lateral ravines the ordinary shrubs and herbaceous vegetation were common. the only new plant was a species of _labiatæ_, a coarse-growing under-shrub, probably a species of _ballota_. [sidenote: pugha ravine. _september, ._] the hard conglomerate of the day before did not again occur, various forms of clay-slate being the prevailing rock. the steep slopes were, however, very frequently covered with a talus of angular fragments, which obscured the structure of the lower portions of the mountains, at the same time that it revealed the nature of the higher strata, which would otherwise have been inaccessible. red and green jaspery rocks, very hard and brittle, were abundant, with various forms of greenstone, at times closely resembling syenite. these were evidently the same rocks as had been met with in the neighbourhood of hanle, and along the river for some way below that town. their recurrence here, therefore, tended to confirm what had for some time appeared to me to be the prevailing strike of these formations, namely, from s.s.e. to n.n.w. after following the course of the indus for about eight miles, we turned abruptly to the left, ascending a narrow gorge, in which a considerable stream flowed from the south-west. the slope was, from the first, considerable, and the course of the ravine very winding. steep rocky cliffs rose precipitously on both sides, and generally approached so close to one another that their tops could not be seen. the channel of the stream was at first stony and quite bare, but after a mile bushes of the _myricaria_ became common, fringing the stream, but nowhere growing at any distance from it. these gradually increased in size and abundance, and at our camping place, three miles from the commencement of the ravine, they were generally small trees, many of them not less than fifteen feet in height, with stout erect trunks five or six inches in diameter. the morning of the st of september was bright and clear, and intensely frosty, the unsettled weather which had continued since our leaving hanle having quite disappeared. our road still lay up the gorge, which had quite the same appearance as on the previous day. high precipices, or very steep banks, hemmed in the stream on both sides. small trees of _myricaria_ still continued abundant in the immediate vicinity of the water; elsewhere, all was as desolate as ever. some of these trees were not less than a foot in diameter; the trunk was generally very short, often branching within a foot of the base. at intervals there was a good deal of alluvium, partly in the shape of coarse conglomerate, partly a fine micaceous sand, filling up the recesses at the bends of the ravine. after three miles, the ravine suddenly expanded into a narrow plain, the surface of which was irregularly undulating, and completely encrusted with salt. as this plain was interesting in consequence of the production of borax, we encamped on the bank of the little stream about a mile from the end of the gorge, and remained stationary the next day in order to examine the nature of the locality in which the borax is found. [sidenote: hot springs. _september, ._] as the day's journey was a very short one, we arrived at the salt plain by eight o'clock a.m. the air was still quite frosty. while our tents were being pitched on a dry bank a little way above the stream, we proceeded to its bank, and were not a little surprised to find the water quite tepid, notwithstanding the extreme cold of the air. on procuring a thermometer, it was found to have a temperature of °. advancing up the stream, we found that numerous hot springs rose on its banks, and sometimes under the water. the hottest of these had a temperature of °. from these springs gas was copiously evolved, smelling strongly of sulphur; and in their immediate neighbourhood the water of the little river had a faintly sulphurous taste, though elsewhere it was quite pure and good. the stream, which was perhaps twenty feet wide, was usually rather deep. dense masses of aquatic weeds, chiefly species of _zannichellia_ and _potamogeton_, grew in the water, and along the margins their dead stems, mixed with mud, formed immense banks, scarcely strong enough to bear the weight of a man, and yet seemingly quite solid. a small crustaceous animal was common among the weeds, but though i searched with care i could find no shells. the stream was full of fish, which swarmed among the weeds, and darted backwards and forwards in the tepid water in immense shoals. they were generally about six inches in length, and appeared to my inexperienced eye to belong to two or three species, all different from those which had been seen at hanle. in the hottest water of the hot springs i collected three species of _conferva_. [sidenote: myricaria trees. _september, ._] the existence of the tree _myricaria_ in the gorges between pugha and the indus, which had appeared to us at the time very remarkable, was fully explained by the occurrence of the hot springs, and the consequent high temperature of the water of the stream, and was peculiarly interesting as an illustration of the influence of temperature upon vegetation. it may fairly be considered, i think, as a proof, that arboreous vegetation does not cease at great elevations in consequence of the rarefaction of the air, but only on account of the diminution of temperature which usually accompanies increased elevation. the trees of _myricaria_, it must be observed, came abruptly to an end with the ravine, none occurring on the open plain. we cannot suppose that the trifling increased elevation caused their disappearance; it seems probable that the narrow walls of the gorge, by concentrating the heat, prevented its escape, and that, therefore, the temperature was more elevated than in the open plain, where the action of winds and free radiation combined to lower it. the occurrence of fish in the water of pugha, at an elevation of nearly , feet above the level of the sea, is also very remarkable, and still more strikingly demonstrative of the same fact, inasmuch as it would certainly not have been very surprising that air at that elevation should, from its rarity, be insufficient for the support of life in animals breathing by gills. at the gorge, where the narrow ravine expands into the lake plain of pugha, the rock is clay-slate, but the hills which skirt the open plain are micaceous schist, varying much in appearance, often with large crystals of garnet, and crumbling rapidly to decay. on the surface of the plain lay many scattered boulders of a peculiar kind of granite, evidently transported from a considerable distance along the stream; and in all the central parts of the plain, a very remarkable conglomerate in horizontal strata, consisting of angular fragments of the surrounding rocks, cemented together by calcareous matter, was observed. [sidenote: borax plain. _september, ._] the whole of the plain is covered, to the depth of several feet at least, with white salt, principally borax, which is obtained in a tolerably pure state by digging, the superficial layer, which contains a little mixture of other saline matters, being rejected. there is at present little export of borax from pugha, the demand for the salt in upper india being very limited, and the export to europe almost at an end. [sidenote: borax lakes of tibet. _september, ._] it has long been known that borax is produced naturally in different parts of tibet, and the salt imported thence into india was at one time the principal source of supply of the european market. i am not aware that any of the places in which the borax is met with had previously been visited by any european traveller, but the nature of the localities in which it occurs has been the subject of frequent inquiry, and several more or less detailed accounts have been made public. these differ considerably from one another, and no description that i have met with accords with that of the pugha valley. mr. saunders[ ] describes (from hearsay) the borax lake north of jigatzi as twenty miles in circumference, and says that the borax is dug from its margins, the deeper and more central parts producing common salt. from the account of mr. blane[ ], who describes, from the information of the natives, the borax district north of lucknow, and, therefore, in the more western part of the course of the sanpu, it would appear that the lake there contains boracic acid, and that the borax is artificially prepared by saturating the sesquicarbonate of soda, which is so universally produced on the surface of tibet, with the acid. at least, the statement that the production of borax is dependent on the amount of soda, leads to this conclusion. the whole description, however, (as is, indeed, to be expected in a native account of a chemical process,) is very obscure, and not to be depended upon. mr. saunders does not notice any hot springs in the neighbourhood of the borax; but in the more western district described by mr. blane, hot springs seem to accompany the borax lake as at pugha. it is not impossible that the three districts in which the occurrence of borax has been noticed, which are only a very small portion of those which exist, may represent three stages of one and the same phenomenon. the boracic acid lake may, by the gradual influx of soda, be gradually converted into borax, which, from its great insolubility, will be deposited as it is formed. on the drainage or drying-up of such a lake, a borax plain, similar to that of pugha, would be left behind[ ]. from pugha, two roads towards le were open to us. we might either return to the indus, and follow the valley of that river throughout, or proceed by a more direct route across the mountains to join the road from lake chumoreri to le, by which mr. trebeck had travelled on his way to piti. as we knew that the indus route would be surveyed by captain strachey, who was desirous of following the course of the river as far as practicable, we preferred the more mountainous road, and, therefore, on leaving our encampment at pugha, on the morning of the rd of september, we continued to ascend the valley of the little stream, on the banks of which we had been encamped. for the first two miles the plain was nearly level, and similar in character to what has just been described, hot springs being observed at intervals. [sidenote: sulphur mine. _september, ._] two miles from our encampment, we stopped and examined the spot whence sulphur is obtained, at the base of the mountain slope on the north side of the valley. ascending a few feet over a loose talus of shingle, which skirted the bottom of the hill, we found two narrow caverns in the slaty rock, apparently natural, or only a little widened by art, roughly circular, and less than three feet in diameter at the mouth. one of these caverns continued a long way inwards, nearly horizontally, but it contracted considerably in diameter, and was so dark that we could not penetrate far. the rock was principally gypsum, interstratified with very friable mica-slate. sometimes the gypsum was amorphous and powdery, at other times in needles two or three inches long, perpendicular to the strata of slate. the sulphur was in small quantities, scattered among the gypsum, and was more abundant in the lower beds. it was frequently in very perfect crystals, not, however, of any great size. the air which issued from these funnel-shaped apertures was very sensibly warm, and had a strongly sulphurous odour. unfortunately, we had not anticipated the necessity for observing the temperature, which was not by any means oppressive, and was only remarkable in contrast with the extreme cold of the external air. in the neighbourhood of the sulphur-pits, the hot springs along the course of the stream were very numerous, evolving much gas. a little higher they ceased altogether, and the upper part of the plain was without any springs, as was evident from the quantity of ice by which it was covered. for more than a mile it was a dead level, and very swampy; but afterwards the valley became gently sloping and gravelly, the little stream being often hidden under the pebbles. large boulders of the same granite which we had observed the day before, were scattered over the surface. the vegetation in this valley was extremely scanty, a few scattered tufts of _dama_, and some shrubby _artemisiæ_, were occasionally seen, but the herbaceous vegetation had been almost entirely destroyed by the intense morning frosts, which had for some time been of daily occurrence. on the latter part of the day's journey the rock on the mountain-side changed from mica-slate to gneiss, of which very lofty scarped cliffs rose abruptly on the right hand. we encamped on a level spot, after ten miles of almost imperceptible ascent. next morning we continued to ascend the valley, which was now very rugged, from masses of boulders, which were heaped one on another to a very great thickness. the stream had cut for itself a narrow channel, nearly a hundred feet in depth, the walls of which were entirely composed of huge incoherent masses of rock, all more or less angular. a walk of three miles brought us to the crest of the pass, which was nearly level and grassy for about a mile; its elevation was about , feet. the pass (pulokanka la) is a very deep depression in the axis of the chain, which runs parallel to the left bank of the indus, separating the waters tributary to that river from those which join the zanskar river, some of the feeders of the latter springing from the valleys on the western slopes of these mountains. the hills right and left of the pass rise very boldly into rugged masses, contrasting strongly with the level plain which constitutes the pass, in which the watershed is scarcely perceptible. [sidenote: salt lake. _september, ._] from the pass the descent was considerably more abrupt than the ascent had been. the valley to the right was bare and stony, watered by a small streamlet, which had, as on the eastern face of the pass, cut a deep channel for itself among boulders. on descending, we turned gradually to the right, and a lake by degrees came in view, towards the southern extremity of which the road advanced over undulating hills of fine clay, full of fresh-water shells, almost entirely of one species of _lymnæa_, of which the specimens were extremely numerous. this lake is the thogji chumo of mr. trebeck, who travelled along it on his journey from le to piti. [sidenote: fossiliferous clays. _september, ._] i was much surprised, and not a little pleased, to find that the clay-beds contained fossils; as, except on one occasion in piti, where i found one or two specimens of a small _planorbis_, i had in vain sought in the clayey beds for any trace of organized beings. here, however, shells were in prodigious abundance, and as the species was a large one, they were very conspicuous. the clay formation was horizontally stratified, and quite impalpable. the uppermost beds were at least a hundred feet above the level of the lake; and as the valley by which we descended was in its lower part almost horizontal, the lacustrine beds extended to a considerable distance from the lake, forming a slightly undulating surface, over which the road ran. after reaching the banks of the lake, the road kept its eastern shore throughout its whole length, which was about three miles, and we encamped close to its north end, on the edge of a level salt plain. our elevation was about , feet. the margins of the lake, which was intensely saline, were generally very shallow, and its banks often swampy, and covered with saline plants, especially _chenopodiaceæ_; a species of _suæda_, with cylindrical fleshy leaves, was especially abundant, growing in the soft mud close to the banks of the lake. a _blysmus_, several grasses, and _ranunculus cymbalaria_ were also common along the banks of the lake. no shells could be seen in the water. the surrounding hills were not very lofty, but often rose abruptly several hundred feet, and were in general rugged and rocky. at the height of perhaps feet above the lake, a weathered mark could be traced on the face of the mountains, wherever they were rocky, everywhere quite horizontal. this was most conspicuous from a distance, and became indistinct on a near approach. it appeared to indicate, as i shall hereafter show, the level of the surface of the lake at some former period. on the morning of the th of september, our day's journey commenced by rounding the north end of the lake, keeping at some distance from its margin to avoid swamp. for about two miles from the northern end, the ground continued almost level, and contained great masses of the lacustrine clay quite horizontally stratified, and very little higher than the surface of the water, but here quite without shells. a wide valley, rising gently towards the north, lay beyond this level plain; but our road, passing across the end of the lake, ascended another valley, which ran in a north-west direction from its north-west corner. the slope of this valley was very gentle. it was bounded by low undulating or rocky hills, on which, where the surface was suitable, the same remarkable water-mark could be traced continuously, and still, to all appearance, quite horizontal. the centre of the valley was occupied by clay, at first non-fossiliferous, but a little further on containing a great abundance of shells, the same as in the bed seen the day before. a few specimens of a very small bivalve, seemingly a species of _cyclas_, were also met with; but they were so very rare, that they bore an infinitesimally small proportion to the _lymnæa_. [sidenote: ancient water-mark. _september, ._] [sidenote: former outlet of lake. _september, ._] for several miles the ancient water-mark could be traced along the sides of the hills, appearing to descend gradually, as the valley slightly rose in elevation. beds of clay continued to occupy the middle of the valley nearly as long as the water-mark remained visible. at last it disappeared where a depression on the left, leading to the valley of rukchin, seemed to indicate the former drainage of the lake, at a time when its waters occupied a much higher level, and contained in a living state the large mollusca of which the shelly coverings still remain in such vast abundance in the clay. as it was at the very edge of the lacustrine clay formation that the shells were so abundant, while the masses of clay in the vicinity of our encampment of the th, at the north-east extremity of the lake, were without any, it would appear that the species was quite littoral, while in the more central parts fine mud was deposited, without shells. the outlet was indicated to me by major cunningham, who in a previous journey had travelled along a part of the rukchin valley in descending from the lachalang pass towards the salt lake. as it may fairly be inferred that the lake was quite fresh at the time when it was inhabited by _lymnææ_ and _cyclades_, it is satisfactory to know that so very small an increase of the height of the surface of the water, as about feet, would be sufficient to admit of its discharging its waters along the course of an open valley into one of the tributaries of the zanskar river. our road, after passing the ravine on the left, along which i suppose the discharge of the lake at its original level to have been effected, turned still more towards the north, and ascending an open valley to the right, crossed a low _col_, or pass, and descended into a small basin surrounded by hills, which was evidently at some former period the bed of a small lake, for it was filled with pure fine clay, in which, however, i could not observe any shells. from this plain we passed into another open valley, up which we ascended in a northerly direction for five or six miles, encamping where the mountains on both sides began to close in a circle. throughout the day we had been gradually but very gently ascending, and the height of our encampment was probably about , feet. we were about two miles from the tunglung pass, a depression in the range parallel to the indus, the same ridge which we had crossed before descending to the salt lake. the axis of the range had been very near us on the right hand since we had crossed it on the th, and had sent down a succession of spurs, separated by wide valleys, along which we had been travelling. these separating ridges appeared usually to rise to an elevation of from one to two thousand feet above the nearly level valleys which lay at their bases, and were, though often rocky, less remarkably so than in many previous parts of our journey. [sidenote: ascent towards tunglung pass. _september, ._] the elevated country surrounding the sources of the parang and hanle rivers, and those of the more eastern branches of the zanskar, as well as that encircling lake chumoreri, constitutes as near an approach to what humboldt has denominated a knot (_noeud_) of mountains, as any part of the himalaya which i have visited; not that i conceive there is any reason to suppose that we have in this part of the chain an intersection of two mountain masses of different ages, to which cause the distinguished geographer is disposed to assign those aggregations of mountains which he has so designated. there is, however, as indicated by the origin of so many considerable streams in a confined area, an extensive tract of highly elevated land, in which the valleys have a very gentle slope, while the surrounding mountains are not much elevated above them. the whole tract is nevertheless eminently mountainous, if contrasted, not with the still more rugged districts by which it is on every side surrounded, but with the hilly districts of less alpine countries. in the elevated district which we had been traversing since crossing the parang pass, there is little or no cultivation, a field or two at hanle and at the monastery on the banks of lake chumoreri (as i am informed by major cunningham) being the only exceptions. the district, however, is much frequented by a nomade population of shepherds, who, living in tents, move about with their flocks as the abundance of food or their own caprice may lead them. clusters of black tents were now and then seen by us at intervals, especially in rupchu, by which name the districts round the salt lake are known to the wandering inhabitants. during the whole of the th of september, a furious north wind had continued to blow, accompanied by a cloudy sky, and all the indications of extremely unsettled weather, such as had been met with in the neighbourhood of hanle only a week before. it was evident that, as winter approached, these periods of disturbance recurred more and more frequently. this time the fury of the blast increased as the day advanced, and after dark the cold in our tents was very severe. about p.m. it began to snow slightly, and at daybreak on the th the ground was covered with snow to a depth of between two and three inches. as we had a prospect of arriving in milder regions by diminishing our elevation during the day, we hastened our departure as much as possible. a mile and a half of level ground brought us directly under the pass, the ascent to which was at last very steep. the road was very stony and rugged, but everything being covered with snow a good deal deeper than on the open plain on which we had encamped, we did not linger at the summit. the wind still blew strongly from the north, driving in our faces the still falling snow, and opposing our progress towards the crest, which was very rocky, being composed of a mass of hard stratified quartz. the elevation of the summit was about , feet. [sidenote: tunglung pass. _september, ._] the descent from the pass was very rapid. after a few paces, we were in a narrow and steep ravine, in which we continued to descend very abruptly, without obtaining any view of the surrounding country. three miles from the summit, at perhaps feet lower level, snow ceased to lie on the ground, but it continued to fall lightly till the afternoon. large rounded tufts of an alsinaceous plant were common on the upper part of the descent, conspicuous under the snow. lower down, the remains of species of _corydalis_ and _saussurea_ were discoverable in crevices of the rocks, the only remains of the alpine vegetation. the rock on both sides was clay-slate. continuing to descend rapidly, the ravine widened a little, and became filled with a most extensive development of alluvial conglomerate, forming thick masses, worn into pinnacles and fantastic shapes, like the similar deposits above sungnam in kunawar. this was particularly conspicuous where a lateral valley joined that along which we descended, a flat-topped promontory of alluvium there projecting far beyond the primitive rocks. [sidenote: giah. _september, ._] after a descent of about feet of perpendicular height, we arrived at giah, elevated , feet above the sea, not a little glad to be among houses, in a more temperate region than it had been for some time our lot to travel in. we took up our quarters in the upper room of a two-storied house, which had been prepared for our reception, and willingly agreed to halt a day in order to give time for arrangements, for a change of porters, and a rest to our servants and guides. giah will be recollected, by those acquainted with moorcroft's travels, as the place where he entered the tibetan country, and where he was for some time kept in considerable uncertainty as to the nature of the reception he would meet with. since that time the supremacy of the sikhs has entirely changed the state of the country; and though the king (gylpo) of giah still exists, he does not even exercise a nominal sovereignty, but lives a pensioner on the sikh government, without power and with a very limited income. the influence of the sikhs has, however, produced little change in the character of the people, as their occupation of the country, except in le itself, and at one or two military posts, is entirely nominal, and only maintained by the moral influence of their known superiority in resources and military skill. the gumpa, or monastery, as in moorcroft's time, crowns a rocky hill on the right bank of the giah stream, while the town, or more properly village, on the left bank, is built on the steep alluvial banks high above the stream. there was a considerable extent of cultivation round the village, barley and peas being the chief crops; both had been cut, but were still lying in small heaps in the fields. notwithstanding the great elevation, a number of poplar-trees, of the large cordate-leaved species (which seems identical with _p. balsamifera_), occur in the village, several of which attain a considerable size. [sidenote: giah ravine. _september, ._] on the morning of the th of september we resumed our journey towards le. by crossing the tunglung pass, we had again gained the eastern slope of the ridge dividing the waters of the zanskar from those of the indus. the giah stream flows towards the latter river with a north-easterly course, and two marches of little more than seven miles each, brought us to the banks of the indus at a village called upshi. for the first mile after leaving giah, the valley was somewhat open, with steep banks of alluvial conglomerate; it then contracted rather suddenly into a narrow ravine, with steep rocky walls, composed of highly inclined strata of conglomerate and sandstone. owing to the diminished elevation, the vegetation was considerably more recognizable than it had been for the last week, and several shrubby plants were seen which had long been absent. _ephedra_ was common in the crevices of the rocks, and the tibetan rose and a small shrubby _lonicera_ grew on the gravelly banks of the little stream. [sidenote: remarkable gorge. _september, ._] at miru, a considerable village where we encamped, the valley expanded into a little plain, filled as usual with alluvium, and covered with cultivation. a few poplar-trees occurred in the village. the ravine contracted immediately below this place, and was, if possible, more narrow and rocky than the day before, as the little stream had to be crossed not less than four or five times in as many miles, on small wooden bridges of rough planks. a very beautiful labiate shrub, a species of _perowskia_, with bright blue flowers, which i afterwards found very abundant in the indus valley from , to feet, was here met with for the first time. close to its junction with the indus, the ravine expanded into an open plain, well covered with houses and enclosures, with scattered poplar and willow trees, as well as a few apricots, and traversed by canals of irrigation conducted from the little giah rivulet. the indus is here not more than forty feet wide, flowing swiftly over large boulders, and quite unfordable. throughout the whole course of this very remarkable gorge by which we descended from giah, the rock continued to be conglomerate, alternating with strata of sandstone and of a very friable slate. the conglomerate was extremely hard, and generally of a dark brown colour. the matrix, which had often a semi-vitrified appearance, was not less hard than the enclosed stones, which were all rounded and very various in size and composition, jasper rock, granite, and quartz being all seen. the sandstone which accompanied the conglomerate varied much in colour, various shades of red, brown, and green being predominant. it was also extremely hard. these strata, which were highly inclined, often nearly vertical, were in general well marked, in consequence of the beds of hard sandstone and conglomerate being thrown out in relief by the more rapid decay of the soft slates with which they alternated. the dip was everywhere very variable, and several very distinct sections were displayed, where it was evident that the strata were curved and sinuated. the curves observed were convex below; the strike of the strata was nearly perpendicular to the general direction of the ravine, or from north-west to south-east. [sidenote: indus valley. _september, ._] from upshi, our course lay down the indus valley in a direction west of north. the width of the indus, which was a rapid stream, varied from thirty or forty to a hundred feet. platforms of alluvium, almost level-topped, and often attaining a thickness of a hundred feet, were interposed between the river and the mountains, which, still composed of highly inclined strata of conglomerate and its associated rocks, advanced in a succession of spurs towards the centre of the valley. these platforms were quite bare of vegetation, a few tufts of a prickly _echinops_ being the only plant worthy of note which i observed. no villages were passed till we reached marsilang, at which we encamped after a journey of about ten miles. here there was very extensive cultivation on the surface of the platform, on both sides of a deep ravine, cut in the alluvium by a considerable stream, which descended from the west. the plantations of willow and poplar were very luxuriant. the willows were planted in rows, and were frequently pollarded, their twigs being in great demand for baskets and other useful purposes in so treeless a country. when allowed to grow their full size, they spread much, and attain a length of upwards of thirty feet. the cultivated willows of tibet are mostly european forms; _salix fragilis_ and _s. alba_ are the most common. the poplars are of two sorts: one a spreading tree with large cordate leaves, which was first seen in upper kunawar, and is common in all the tibetan villages, up to the highest limit of tree cultivation; it is quite identical with _populus balsamifera_, which i cannot distinguish in the herbarium from _p. laurifolia_, of ledebour. the other, which i had not before seen in tibet, was a tall, erect, and slender tree, with much darker foliage and smaller leaves; it seems, so far as my specimens enable me to decide, to be the common black poplar (_p. nigra_) of europe. [sidenote: marsilang. _september, ._] at marsilang the indus is crossed by a good wooden bridge, thirty-four paces in length, which enables its inhabitants to communicate with the large villages and extensive cultivated tracts on the east bank of the river. as soon as we left the cultivated lands of marsilang, on the morning of the st of october, we found ourselves again on a platform of alluvium; but after a few miles we reached another village, with extensive cultivation, and on the latter part of the day's journey passed through a succession of villages separated by gradually shorter intervals of unprofitable and barren land. these cultivated tracts were everywhere well irrigated; indeed, every spot, where irrigation was easy of execution, seemed to be under cultivation. each village had its plantation of poplars and willows, not, however, so plentiful as at marsilang. the grain had everywhere been cut and housed, the operations of harvest being seemingly quite at an end. the whole of this richly-cultivated district is called chashut. our journey of the nd of october was for about six miles through an uninterrupted tract of cultivation, very little elevated above the level of the river, the alluvial platforms being here of inconsiderable thickness. the direction of the valley was also much more westerly, and the mountains on both sides had receded considerably from the river, leaving an open plain of five or six miles in width. numerous irrigation channels intersected the fields, which gradually, as we proceeded, united one to another, till at last they all combined into one large and deep canal, by which the superfluous waters were conveyed to the indus. crossing this canal, we reached the river, which we crossed by a bridge twenty-five paces in length. a few houses, and a small patch of cultivation, lay on the right bank of the river, immediately beyond the bridge, but no extent of fertile country; low spurs of rocky hills descending from the north, close down upon the indus. after crossing the bridge we turned up a wide and gravelly valley between two of these ridges, the course of which we followed, ascending very gradually among large boulders, strewed over the surface, for about three miles. we then turned abruptly to the left, through a narrow ravine in the low granitic hills by which the valley was on that side bounded. emerging from this, we entered a quite similar and parallel valley, and obtained our first view of the town of le, covering the top and slopes of a steep hill by which the valley was apparently terminated, about two miles beyond the point at which we entered it. [sidenote: le. _september, ._] le, the capital of the province of ladak, and the most important place, and only town, of western tibet, is situated about three miles from the indus, in the upper part of an open valley, which rises gradually as it recedes from the river, so that the town is rather more than feet above its level, or about , feet above the sea. the town occupies the slope, and surrounds the base of a low spur, on the left or east side of the valley, while the centre and right side are occupied by extensive tracts of cultivation, the fields rising in terraces one above another, and watered by little rills drawn from a stream which descends in the centre of the valley. the aspect of the town, which is very peculiar, is faithfully represented in the frontispiece to the second volume of moorcroft's travels, from a sketch by mr. trebeck. in the neighbourhood of the town there are several small enclosures, planted with poplar and willow trees, in one of which we pitched our tents. these plantations were all young, a very fine garden of old trees having been, it was said, destroyed at the time of the sikh invasion. the governor of ladak, a deputy of maharaja gulab singh, the ruler of kashmir, to whom the rule of ladak has devolved as a dependency of the latter country, resides in the town; but the detachment of troops, amounting to about men, who form the military garrison of the place, occupy a small square fort on the west side of the valley, about a mile from the town of le. the peculiarities of the buddhist religion, as practised in tibet, which are everywhere conspicuous in all parts of ladak, are especially remarkable in the capital. the principal monasteries in the neighbourhood of le are at some distance from the town in the vicinity of villages both up and down the indus; but religious edifices, of the many kinds which are everywhere so common in tibet, are seen all round le in great numbers. along the road by which we approached the town, there is a very long building, of the kind called _mané_, extending for more than half a mile. it consists of two parallel walls, twelve or fifteen feet apart, and nearly six feet high, the intervals between which are filled up with stones and rubbish, and the whole covered with a sloping roof, which rises at a gentle angle to the central ridge, midway between the two walls. on the roof are laid large slabs of slate, every one of which is covered with tibetan letters, or more rarely with a rude drawing of a temple. the words on these stones are (i believe, invariably) a repetition of the mystical buddhist prayer, from one of the words of which these curious, and apparently useless, erections take their name. the mane seems one of the most indispensable accompaniments of a tibetan village, and they may occasionally be seen even in desert tracts; so that the amount of labour which has been expended in their construction must have been very great, some of the largest containing many millions of repetitions of the words _om mane padme hom_. in the smaller villages they are often very inferior in size, sometimes not more than twenty or thirty feet in length, and three feet high. every traveller has constant occasion to notice that in passing these walls the tibetans always leave them on the right hand, considering it both wrong and unlucky to do otherwise; those proceeding in contrary directions therefore take opposite sides. [sidenote: religious edifices of tibet. _september, ._] equally conspicuous in the environs of le are the urn-like buildings, called chokten or chosten, which are, i believe, erected over the ashes of lamas, or priests, and are, therefore, in a country where a third or fourth part of the male population adopt a monastic life, particularly abundant. long rows of these, consisting of twenty or more urns of various sizes, may often be seen in conspicuous places above the villages, forming, from the brilliant whitewash with which they are covered when new, very prominent objects. many of those near le are of large size, and ornamented with rude paintings of dragons and other mythological animals of uncouth form. the religion of tibet, from the remarkable nature of its institutions and ceremonies, has of late years attracted much attention; but as, from the hurried nature of my journey, i had no opportunity of acquiring any information regarding it which has not already been made public, it is not necessary for me to dwell upon it at any length. throughout the whole of western tibet, the monasteries are very poor, in comparison with those in the neighbourhood of lassa, of which we read such gorgeous descriptions; all their wealth in silver and gold having been plundered by the sikhs, during their short possession of the country as far east as garu and taklakhar. still the number of lamas does not seem to have much diminished, though they are more dependent upon the cultivation of the soil than in eastern tibet, where some of the monasteries are said to contain thousands of priests. [sidenote: le. _september, ._] the town of le is said to contain about inhabitants. many of the houses are very high, the former residence of the king containing seven stories. they are usually built of unburnt brick, formed from the fine lacustrine clay of the neighbourhood. the sikh thannadar has lately built for himself a house of stone, but he found it necessary to bring lime from nubra, a distance of nearly forty miles, none being procurable so near in the valley of the indus. the timber used in the construction of the houses is all poplar or willow, both of which are found to last a very long time in the arid climate of tibet. the beams are laid perhaps two feet apart, and covered sometimes with small planking, but more generally with brushwood, over which is laid a thick coating of clay, so as to form a flat roof, to which there is usually access by a small stair or ladder. the mountain ranges which bound the valley in which the town of le is situated, though not lofty, are very generally rocky and inaccessible. they consist partly of distinctly stratified gneiss, but principally of a fine white granite, which decays with great rapidity, and contains many irregular nodules of an iron grey colour, much finer in the grain than the rest. the width of the fertile plain of chashut, over which i made the last two marches down the indus, had prevented me from ascertaining the nature of the rocks on the mountains to the left, so that i cannot fix the exact point where the granitic eruption comes in contact with the slates and conglomerates of the giah ravine. footnotes: [ ] turner's tibet, p. . [ ] phil. tr. , p. . [ ] i have made over all my specimens of the borax and other saline products of tibet to dr. r. d. thomson, of glasgow, who is at present engaged in examining them. chapter vii. departure from le -- sabu valley -- pass between le and nubra -- snow -- encamp at , feet -- digar -- valley of shayuk -- alluvium -- _populus euphratica_ -- tsatti -- nubra river -- district of nubra -- villages -- irrigation -- saline soil -- isolated rocks -- chirasa -- panamik -- lower nubra -- platforms of alluvium -- traces of a great flood -- unmaru -- kuru -- great contraction of valley -- mountain pass of waris -- boghdan ravine -- chorbat -- mahommedan population -- villages -- outburst of granite -- siksa -- khapalu -- open plain of khapalu -- junction of shayuk and indus -- nar -- iskardo plain -- description of iskardo -- aqueduct -- fort -- lacustrine clay formation -- vegetation. while we were at le there was a good deal of unsettled weather, and two very slight falls of snow. on the th of october we had an opportunity of observing an eclipse of the sun, which was welcomed by the inhabitants of the town with a most discordant beating of drums, intended to frighten away the demons who had taken possession of the sun. after a week's halt, major cunningham and myself started in different directions; major cunningham following the course of the indus, and proceeding by dras to kashmir, while i crossed the range of mountains to the north into the valley of the shayuk, and descended along that river to its junction with the indus. the mountain range which separates these two rivers barely rises into the region of perpetual snow, a very few peaks only retaining any snow throughout the year. it is therefore crossed by passes at the head of each valley; but the pass nearest to le having a small but very steep glacier on its northern face, is difficult and dangerous in autumn, after the snow has entirely melted from the surface of the ice. i was, therefore, recommended to cross into nubra, by a pass a few miles further east, at the head of the valley of sabu, which is separated from that in which the town of le lies, by a steep ridge of granite hills. [sidenote: sabu valley. _october, ._] i left le on the morning of the th of october. the road to the sabu valley enters the granite range close to the town, ascending a narrow stony valley in an easterly direction, and crossing by a short steep ascent a depression in the ridge, to descend into a narrow ravine which has a south-east course into the sabu valley, up which the road led. the hills were very stony and bare, or covered with the large _echinops_ of the indus valley, of which the heads of fruit were falling to pieces. i encamped for the night in the valley of sabu, which is very like that of le, with pretty extensive cultivation, but few trees. [sidenote: lazgung pass. _october, ._] next day i crossed the pass. the ascent was very long and fatiguing, and, from the lateness of the season, very uninteresting. a cold bleak wind blew from the north in strong gusts, and the sky was overcast with light clouds. the valley contracted into a rocky ravine before the road left it to ascend rapidly the steep mountain-sides, which were covered with masses of boulders, heaped together in great confusion. the upper part of the ascent, which was very steep, was covered with snow, which lay on the loose stones of the crest to the depth of about a foot. it was late in the evening before i reached the top of the pass, the distance being much greater than i had been led to anticipate. the elevation of the summit, by the observations of captain strachey, is about , feet. on the north face of the pass snow lay thickly for two miles or rather more, and more scantily for a mile further. as evening had begun to close before i reached the summit, i hurried my descent as much as possible. fortunately, a great part of my baggage porters were in advance, but it had been for some time quite dark before i reached a spot sufficiently free of snow to be suitable for an encampment. the night was intensely cold, the sky being clear; and next morning, at half-past six o'clock, the thermometer stood at °. at the same time i found that water boiled at °, indicating an elevation of upwards of , feet. in the morning i made a short march to the village of digar, which i ought to have reached the day before, had not the darkness prevented me. the distance was not more than four miles, and the descent about feet, digar being rather more than , feet above the level of the sea. the general direction of the valley in which i was encamped was north-east, and it was surrounded on all sides by extremely rugged mountains, now much covered with snow, down to about , feet. throughout the descent, vast piles of boulders, heaped one on another, and forming steep banks, evidently moraines, occupied the flanks of the valley. the village of digar, though small, and possessing only two small trees, had a considerable extent of cultivation, and seemed prosperous. it was situated on the left side of the valley, or rather on the slope of the mountains on that side opposite a lateral ravine, from which a stream of boulders had at one time descended. the centre of the valley was much lower, being excavated out of the alluvium which had once filled the whole. [sidenote: valley of shayuk. _october, ._] on the morning of the th of october, i descended to the valley of the shayuk, making a march of fifteen miles to the village of tsatti, on the right bank of that river. the road skirted the steep stony hills on the left side of the valley, parallel to the digar stream, for about two miles, descending rapidly, but still high above the bottom of the dell. the digar ravine, before reaching the shayuk, joined a wider one which descends from the south-east, and the united valley has a nearly due north direction. as the road turned by degrees to the left, round a spur of the mountains, the shayuk valley came in sight, feet below. it was of considerable width, and very stony, barren, and desolate. mountains of black slate, very lofty and rugged, in many places too steep for snow to lie, were seen to the north-east, from among which the river appeared to issue into the more open tract immediately below. the road did not descend at once to the level of the river, but, turning abruptly to the left, proceeded along a platform of alluvium, at least a thousand feet in thickness, for more than a mile, before it descended, which it did at last very abruptly down a steep sandy slope. the mass of alluvium was, in many places, almost pure sand, but in general many pebbles and boulders were mixed with it. towards the river it presented scarped cliffs, in which its composition was well seen. [sidenote: populus euphratica. _october, ._] the shayuk, where i descended to it, flowed through a wide gravelly plain, varying in breadth from one to two miles, and quite destitute of vegetation. rocky spurs of black slate and conglomerate, with many granite veins, projecting from the mountains on the south, occasionally narrowed the valley, while the recesses were generally filled with a mass of alluvium. the river was occasionally divided into several branches. in some of the recesses small trees of a peculiar species of poplar (_p. euphratica_) were not uncommon, growing in pure sand. this tree is remarkable for its extended distribution. originally discovered on the banks of the euphrates, it has been found by griffith, and more recently by dr. stocks and others, to be abundant on the banks of the indus, in sind and multan. it occurs also at intervals along the valley of the indus, within the mountains, but appears to be far from common, and to confine itself to hot sandy places. in several parts of nubra it is common enough, but only, so far as i have observed, on the south side of the shayuk. this poplar is also remarkable for the very changeable shape of its leaves, which vary from broadly deltoid and coarsely toothed, to narrow-linear and quite entire. the leaves of the full-grown tree are generally broad and much toothed, while young plants have very narrow leaves; the shoots of pollarded plants, which are common, the tree being much used for fuel, are also narrow. after proceeding parallel to the river for six or seven miles, i crossed to the right bank. the stream was undivided, and about a hundred yards broad. it had a considerable velocity, and was about three feet deep in the centre. its bed was full of large waterworn boulders and gravel, and the banks on both sides were, for a great distance from the river, of similar structure, and so little elevated above its surface, that a very slight rise of the water would have been sufficient to submerge them. from the village of tsatti, at which i encamped on the th of october, i followed the course of the shayuk to its junction with a large stream descending from the north, which, from the name of the district in which the junction is situated, is commonly called the nubra river. thence i ascended the latter stream for about twenty miles, with the intention of making an attempt to penetrate to the north-east, across the mountains to the nubra chu of vigne; but the lateness of the season, and especially the occurrence of several falls of snow, which extended down the mountain slopes almost as far as the plain, induced me to place reliance on the assurances of the people of the valley, that the difficulties of the road would be quite insurmountable. [sidenote: district of nubra. _october, ._] the district of nubra includes the whole course of the shayuk river, from its great bend to the eastward of the point where i joined it below digar, till it again contracts nine or ten miles below the village of unmaru; and also the lower part of the valley of the nubra river, as far up, indeed, as population and cultivation extend. the place of junction of the two rivers is elevated, according to my observation of the boiling-point of water, about , feet above the level of the sea. this may be considered as the mean elevation of the whole district; for the cultivated tracts nowhere rise to any height above the bed of the rivers, which have everywhere a very gentle and apparently uniform inclination. [sidenote: description of nubra. _october, ._] the valley of the shayuk is widest at the point of its junction with the nubra river. at this place the level plain, including the gently sloping alluvium on each side, has a breadth of about six miles. the width of the valley gradually diminishes as we recede from the centre, the mountains encroaching more and more, till at last they hem in the river, leaving no space for villages or cultivation, and the valley ceases to be inhabited. the centre of the plain is uniformly occupied by a flat gravelly expanse, one to three miles in width, scarcely raised above the surface of the river, which, when flooded, covers a great part of it. on both sides of this gravelly bed, low platforms of alluvium, in the form of triangles, with their apices resting on the mountain ravines, slope very gently towards the base of mountains, which rise abruptly and precipitously on both sides of the valley, to a height of three or four thousand feet. some of the more projecting spurs, even where the width of the valley is greatest, advance so far into the open plain as to abut upon the river and compel the traveller to ascend their slopes, in order to cross them in travelling from village to village. the gravelly plain over which the shayuk flows, is usually quite devoid of vegetation. a few scattered bushes of _tamarix_ and _myricaria_ appear, indeed, near its junction with the nubra river, but further up the gravel is absolutely bare: in this it contrasts strongly with similar portions in the valley of the nubra river, which are densely wooded. the cause of this difference seems to lie in the frequent floods which have, at different periods, devastated the whole course of the shayuk valley, from the glaciers of sassar. these floods, which appear to be due to the blocking-up of the upper course of the river by the ice, have been most destructive to the prosperity of the valley. [sidenote: villages. _october, ._] throughout nubra, the villages, with scarcely an exception, occupy the surface of the low platforms of alluvium which fill up the funnel-shaped terminations of the ravines. in tibet the size of the villages, and the extent of cultivation by which they are surrounded, entirely depend on the supply of water and on the facility with which it can be diverted from its bed for purposes of irrigation; and as, in this district, the width and horizontality of the alluvial tracts are very favourable to the industry of man, the villages are in general large and surrounded with much cultivation. indeed, a super-abundance of water is in general indicated by the swampy banks of the irrigation canals, as the water, oozing through the loose gravel of the platforms, produces a dense jungle of _hippophaë_ scrub, which makes the cultivated tracts conspicuous, even in winter, when the trees are bare of leaves and the fields of crops. this copious supply of water no doubt depends on the great elevation of the surrounding mountains, which everywhere rise, if not above, yet almost to the level of perpetual snow, which is about , feet, so that at the head of each little stream there is either a glacier, or a snow-bed which does not entirely melt till the latter end of autumn, affording therefore a nearly perennial supply of water. even in the hottest months slight falls of snow are of occasional occurrence at all elevations above , feet; and as every range rises much above that height, a small addition to the supply is thus obtained. the villages have generally a few fruit-trees, as well as a good many poplars and willows, which yield almost the only timber the inhabitants can command. the walnut and _elæagnus_, both of which trees find their upper limit in nubra, are so extremely scarce that they are not available for such purposes. in most parts of nubra the soil is very generally saline, the dry grassy plains which are common on the banks of the streams being generally covered with a copious efflorescence of carbonate of soda; while the abundance of _salsolæ_ and other chenopodiaceous plants on the dry alluvial plains, and even on the rocky hills, seems to prove that the saline matter is not confined to the immediate vicinity of water, or to the lowest levels, but is very generally diffused over the surface. [sidenote: valley of nubra river. _october, ._] the valley of the nubra river, for upwards of twenty miles, is very similar in general character to that of the shayuk. the same wide gravelly expanse occupies its centre, forming a plain of one or two miles in width, through which the river runs in many branches. a great part of this gravelly plain, particularly on the right side of the valley, is covered by a dense thicket of _hippophaë_, extending continuously for four or five miles, usually impervious, except in certain beaten tracts, and tenanted by vast numbers of hares. the gravel on which this jungle grows is almost on a level with the river, so that it is very generally swampy, and traversed here and there by little streamlets of water. the _hippophaë_ is here a small tree, attaining a height of fifteen feet, with a short thick trunk and stiff crooked spinous branches. [sidenote: chirasa. _october, ._] in several parts of the course of the nubra river, low hills rise in the valley, isolated, or nearly so, from the mountain ranges behind, and forming, therefore, a remarkable feature. on one of these, on the right bank of the river, is situated the little fort and village of chirasa, a considerable mass of houses, of a class a little better than those usual in the district, and conspicuous from their elevated position. the rock on which they stand is composed of a hard porphyry, which has been injected from below, and has displaced the black slate, which is the more usual rock in the lower part of this valley. in the lower part of the ravine behind the town of chirasa, the alluvium is more extensively developed than usual in this valley, where aqueous action seems in a great measure to have removed the accumulation of detritus, which once, no doubt, occupied the whole valley. beds of gravelly conglomerate, at times passing into fine clay, may here be seen, at a height of perhaps feet, on the mountain-sides in isolated patches, generally faced by cliffs, in which a tendency to horizontal stratification is observable. [sidenote: nubra valley. _october, ._] the lower part of the nubra valley is very fertile, and on the east side cultivation extends, with little interruption, from tirit as far as panamik, in a belt varying in width from a few hundred feet to nearly a mile. the villages are large, and seem populous. many of the houses are very substantially built, and the long sacred walls, called mané, are numerous, and of great length and size. several watercourses, which are carried along the sides of the hills at an elevation of several hundred feet above the cultivation, and are easily recognizable by the fringe of _hippophaë_ bushes, which forms an impenetrable belt along their margins, indicate a degree of industry and energy very unusual in tibet, where, however, the amount of cultivable land is seldom sufficient to promise much reward to any extensive and elaborate system of irrigation. as the advanced period of the year rendered exploration at great elevations scarcely practicable, and made it desirable to reach a lower level as soon as possible, i did not remain more than a week in nubra. on the nd of october i started from lyakjung, at the mouth of the nubra river, towards iskardo, following the course of the shayuk river. the district of nubra extends about thirty miles below the junction of the river of that name with the shayuk; but i found the level valley gradually to diminish in width as i descended. on the nd of october i encamped at hundar; on the rd, at tertse; and on the th at unmaru, beyond which village there is no cultivation, and the valley becomes extremely narrow. on the th of october i reached an encamping ground called kuru, at the termination of the nubra district, where the mountains, which for three days had gradually been encroaching on the valley, completely closed in, and the river entered a deep gorge, walled in on both sides by lofty and almost perpendicular cliffs of black slate. [sidenote: lower nubra. _october, ._] [sidenote: fossil shells in the clay. _october, ._] the general aspect of the lower part of nubra requires no particular description, as it presents much the same features as the other parts of the district. the mountains on both sides of the valley are not less steep, barren, and inaccessible than elsewhere in tibet. the alluvial platforms, which were everywhere present, increased remarkably in thickness as they diminished in size. widely spread out in the broadest parts of the valley, they were not more than from twenty to forty feet thick where cut across by the river, and sloped very gently. in the narrower parts of the valley they were often not less than a hundred feet high along the river. in structure these platforms varied much. the greater part certainly consisted of gravel and clay, quite unstratified, but the lower beds were very frequently fine clay, or fine sand, or alternations of these two. the superposition of the coarse beds to the fine was nearly uniformly observed, though occasionally, above the fine clays, alternations of gravel with thin beds of sand or clay were met with. in one place, on the north side of the river, nearly opposite to the village of tertse, i found these beds to contain fresh-water shells. the fossiliferous bed was elevated very little above the present level of the river, and was composed of a fine somewhat sandy clay, stratified horizontally, and covered with upwards of fifty feet of coarse conglomerate. the shells, which were all small, were species of _planorbis_ and _lymnæa_, apparently identical with those afterwards found in the neighbourhood of iskardo, but quite different from those of the salt lake of thogji. the villages of lower nubra are not numerous, but some of them possess very extensive cultivation. hundar in particular, at the mouth of a large ravine, by which a considerable tributary stream descends from the south (at the source of which there is a pass across the range into the valley of the indus), is a very large village (probably the most populous in nubra), with very fine orchards of apricot-trees. walnut, mulberry, and _elæagnus_ became common at unmaru, on the north bank of the river. perhaps the gradual narrowing of the valley may have a considerable effect in modifying the climate, for the diminution of elevation is very inconsiderable, the river at kuru being nearly , feet above the sea, or not more than feet lower than the junction of the shayuk and nubra rivers. in this part of its course, and at this advanced season, when the great summer floods are over, the shayuk appears to be everywhere fordable. it is, however, a noble stream, with a rapid current; and is usually divided into many channels. above hundar, where i forded it, one branch was not less than feet wide, and was from one to two feet deep. opposite tertse, again, i found the stream running in seven branches, of which three were from to feet wide, and had an average depth of about two feet, increased in the centre to about three. the other branches were, however, much smaller. [sidenote: great flood of the shayuk. _october, ._] in several places between hundar and tertse, on the gravelly plain which skirted the river, i observed manifest traces of a flood, consisting of such rejectamenta as are usually seen deposited by swollen streams, fragments of wood and twigs, straw, sheep's dung, and other light materials, forming a bed two or three feet wide, continuous in many places for hundreds of yards, at a distance of not less than half a mile from the river. to my inquiries as to the nature of the flood which had deposited these reliquiæ, the invariable reply was, that a great flood had taken place five years before, by the bursting of a lake called khundan chu, at which time the whole course of the river was devastated, and much destruction of property, sometimes even life, ensued, particularly in the narrower parts of the valley. in most parts of the world the preservation of such insignificant vestiges of a flood for so long a period would have been impossible; but here, where rain is almost unknown, and where the winter falls of snow seldom exceed one or two inches, there are no disturbing causes which could prevent them from remaining till carried away or altered in position by another similar flood. i should, therefore, have had no difficulty in attaching credence to the testimony of the inhabitants of the country, even had i not, in my journey down the river, received the most abundant proofs that the flood was everywhere well known, at least as far as iskardo. the vegetation of lower nubra had so entirely disappeared, that i could form scarcely any idea of its character; but, as the general aspect of the country was unaltered, i had no reason to look for any change. in the gravelly bed of the river, bushes of _myricaria_ and _tamarix_ were common; thickets of _hippophaë_, loaded with very acid yellow berries, lined the watercourses, forming an impenetrable barrier. little bushes of _artemisia_, _lycium_, _perowskia_, and _ephedra_, were also occasionally seen on the rocks, but the herbaceous vegetation had quite withered away. in the villages, the cultivated trees were also rapidly shedding their leaves; constant night frosts, and frequent falls of snow on the mountain-sides, having so far reduced the temperature that winter was evidently at hand. [sidenote: narrow gorge. _october, ._] below the village of unmaru, the width of the valley had so much diminished that many of the lateral spurs advanced close to the river. several of these prominent spurs consisted of trap rocks, various forms of basalt and greenstone occurring, with not unfrequently veins of coarse serpentine. stratified rocks, however, still continued, but the hard black slate was often with difficulty distinguishable from the basalt. my encamping ground at kuru was on the north side of the river, and close to the gorge into which the shayuk disappeared among rocks of black slate, which rise almost perpendicularly from the river. a small tributary, descending from the north, ran parallel and close to the rugged mountain spur which formed the barrier of the valley; and immediately above, a deep bay or recess in the mountains was entirely filled with beds of loose sand, resting on the alluvial clay formation. the appearance of the place was altogether most singular. much of the light sandy beds were evidently of very recent origin, probably referable to the great flood five years before, at which time the waters, suddenly checked at the gorge, after having spread out _ad libitum_ in the open valley of nubra, rose to a height of not less than fifty feet above their usual level, and required several days to subside. the beds of clay under the loose sand were all stratified, and were, no doubt, referable to the same lacustrine formation as the fossiliferous beds observed higher up the valley of the shayuk. [sidenote: waris ravine. _october, ._] from kuru there is no road along the bank of the river, the rocks being on both sides too precipitous to permit of a passage, and the river too deep to be forded. in winter, when the river is frozen, travellers are able to continue their course along its bed by proceeding on the ice in those places where the steepness of the rocks obstructs the passage; but at other seasons it is necessary to make a long _détour_, and to ascend a lateral ravine for eight miles before a point is reached where the steep ridge is capable of being crossed. leaving kuru on the morning of the th of october, i encamped at the village of waris, elevated , feet, among a few fields from which the crops had long been cleared. the few huts which formed the village contained no inhabitants, being abandoned, as soon as the harvest has been reaped and housed, for the more temperate climate of the river valley. the ravine by which i ascended from kuru was very narrow and rugged. the road generally lay at a considerable height on the steep slopes of the hills, but three times crossed the stream; once by a natural bridge composed of a huge mass of rock lying across a very narrow part of the stream, where it had worn out in the solid rock a channel not more than from three to twelve feet wide. the steep sloping banks of the ravine were usually shingly and devoid of vegetation; but on the margin of the little stream there were a good many shrubs, principally willows, and occasionally the cordate-leaved poplar so commonly cultivated in the tibetan villages, which here appeared quite indigenous. the geological structure of this rocky ravine was very intricate, from the great mass of igneous rock, granite, greenstone, and amygdaloid, which everywhere occurred. a very hard conglomerate, similar in character to that of the upper indus and of the giah ravine, was also observed at intervals, alternating with very highly metamorphic slates. after about five miles, the road left the main ravine to ascend into a lateral branch, much more steep than the former. here masses of alluvial conglomerate of great thickness rested on the sides of the mountains, many hundred feet above the bed of the stream. during the day the weather had been very cloudy and threatening, and a little snow fell in the afternoon at my encamping ground at waris. [sidenote: pass above waris. _october, ._] during the night more snow fell, and on the morning of the th it was four or five inches deep. from my camp i ascended at once, very steeply, to the crest of the ridge on the left, which i then followed in a succession of undulations in a westerly direction. as soon as i had gained the summit, a reach of the shayuk was seen, distant perhaps a mile and a half, flowing among steep black rocks, with here and there banks of gravel at the bends. the view from the ridge was very striking, the dark colour of the rocks below contrasting strongly with the snowy whiteness of the upper parts of the mountains, which, on the south side of the shayuk, rise very abruptly to a height of perhaps , feet. the summit of the ridge was not less than , feet above the sea. at this elevation, the snow, on southern exposures, had, by eleven a.m., quite melted, under the influence of a bright sun. along the ridge, tufts of a prickly _statice_, still displaying the remains of flowers, were very common, and a few stunted trees of juniper occurred at intervals. the descent from the ridge was exceedingly abrupt (three thousand feet in less than a mile), into a narrow valley, in which i encamped among the fields of a summer village named boghdan, now, like the one i had left in the morning, deserted by its inhabitants, who had gone for the winter to the village of chulungka, nine miles distant, on the banks of the shayuk. i was now in the district of chorbat, the ridge which i had just crossed being the boundary of nubra on the west. [sidenote: boghdan ravine. _october, ._] the boghdan ravine, though very narrow and tortuous, is well wooded with small trees of poplar and willow, and with shrubs, chiefly of _hippophaë_ and _myricaria_. these plants are entirely confined to the level bottom of the ravine, forming a belt, ten or twenty feet wide, on each side of the little stream. after a descent of three miles, i again joined the shayuk, along which a journey of four days brought me to siksa, the principal village of chorbat, encamping on the way at the villages of chulungka, turtuk, and pranu. [sidenote: district of chorbat. _october, ._] the district of chorbat is a dependency of the government of iskardo, which, like that of le, is subject to kashmir. the desert country by which nubra and chorbat are separated has, for the present, acted as a barrier to the further extension eastward of the mahommedan religion, which is now universally that of the people of the whole of the iskardo (or balti) district, as well as of dras. on the indus, and in the valleys south of it, there is no uninhabited tract between the two, so that the mahommedan and buddhist population are in direct contact. the result is, that mahommedanism is in that part gradually, though very slowly, extending to the eastward. in this part of its course the shayuk river is in general very rapid, and is hemmed in so closely by the mountains on both sides, that little space is left for the accumulation of alluvium, except where considerable lateral streams join the main river. the barrier by which chorbat is separated from nubra is the most contracted part of the valley, and the general ruggedness by degrees becomes less marked as we continue to descend the river. the mountains, everywhere steep, rocky, and inaccessible, close in general to within a quarter of a mile of one another, and their projecting spurs, at short intervals, advance quite to the centre of the valley, forming deep bays, either filled with sand or occasionally occupied by platforms of conglomerate, on the top of which, where water is procurable, there is generally a village. the river, winding from one side of its channel to the other, washes the foot of each rocky spur, so that the road frequently quits the level of the river to ascend abruptly the rocky hills, which are often so steep as to be only accessible by means of scaffoldings of wood, propped up against the face of the perpendicular cliffs by trunks of trees. once or twice the road lay at a great height above the river for several miles, without descending at all to its level. [sidenote: bridges. _october, ._] the channel of the shayuk is generally formed of coarse gravel or large rolled stones, and immense boulders are everywhere scattered on the level banks. the stream is rapid and deep, and the fall much more considerable than in nubra, siksa being only about feet above the sea. it is nowhere in the whole distance fordable; and as the villages lie alternately on opposite sides of the river, i had occasion to cross it three times before reaching siksa. in every case a narrow and rapid part of the river is selected, the bridges being composed of poplar trunks, stretching from bank to bank, with a light and rude hand-rail of hurdles to give support. opposite turtuk, the bridge, which rests upon piers projecting on each side eight feet into the river, measures twenty-five paces, so that the river is not more than eighty feet wide. where platforms of alluvium occupy the lateral ravines, they attain a very great thickness, seldom less than two hundred feet, and occasionally at least twice as much. they are generally cut off in steep cliffs by the river, beautifully showing the structure of the alluvium. in the sections of these masses of boulders and clay, i several times observed that the strata, instead of being horizontal, were highest in the middle and sloped gently downwards on either side. this would indicate, i think, a local origin of these deposits, which probably commenced under water, close to a ravine on the mountain-side, and gradually extended, by the addition of successive layers, till they met similar accumulations, derived from the opposite side of the valley. [sidenote: villages. _october, ._] in the upper part of the district of chorbat, the villages are few and very insignificant, but lower down several are of great extent. chulungka, the highest village, consists of three or four houses, on a small platform about fifty feet above the river. this village stood formerly on the low ground close to the shayuk, but the cultivable soil at the lower level was entirely swept away by the flood of , so that the inhabitants were obliged to change the position of their houses. the first considerable village is turtuk, on the south side of the river. pranu, on the north side, is remarkable for the great extent of its cultivation, and for several isolated rocks, behind which the alluvium has accumulated to a thickness of at least six or seven hundred feet. all the villages are surrounded by fine orchards of apricot-trees. walnut and mulberry trees are also common; and at turtuk i saw a few vines; these latter are, however, by no means generally cultivated in the district. willows are less frequent than in nubra, but there are plenty of poplars. the black poplar is the common species, but a white downy-leaved species (_p. alba_), which is cultivated also in kunawar, and which seems to be indigenous in some of the himalayan valleys south of kashmir, occurs for the first time at turtuk. the fields are everywhere terraced, and water seems to be very abundant. [sidenote: rocks of chorbat. _october, ._] a very remarkable outburst of granite commences at the junction of the boghdan ravine with the shayuk, and continues as far as siksa, altering the secondary rocks so that they can scarcely be recognized. the granite is frequently in great mass, and usually occupies the lowest part of the valley, sending out gigantic veins or branches into the overlying slates, which are often transformed into a coarse serpentine. the hard conglomerate which is associated with the slate, seems the same as occurs in lower nubra, so that probably the slates are also a continuation of the same series, and the whole may even be connected with the conglomerates and slates of the giah valley and of the indus below le, the strike of which to the n.w. or n.n.w. would carry them nearly in the direction of chorbat. here the intrusion of the granite renders both dip and strike obscure, the beds being frequently quite vertical. from siksa, close to which there is a small fort or castle on an isolated rock, a road leads across the hanu pass into the valley of the indus. by this route mr. vigne proceeded when he abandoned his intention of penetrating by the shayuk to nubra, and it has since been crossed by several travellers at different times. it is, indeed, a route very commonly adopted in travelling from iskardo to le, as the lower part of the shayuk is more open and practicable than the indus below the junction of the river of dras. [sidenote: plain of khapalu. _october, ._] below siksa, the valley of the shayuk continues narrow for eight or ten miles. it then begins again to expand, and its width continues to increase as far as khapalu, which is situated near the centre of a wide plain similar to that of nubra, and, like that, coincident with the junction of a large river from the north. it is certainly worthy of note, that it is always at the point of junction of large tributaries that the valley of the shayuk is widest, and that the evidences of the former existence of lakes are most evident, while in the intermediate parts of its course the valley is narrow and rugged, and shows no certain indications of having been at any period lacustrine. [sidenote: machulu river. _november, ._] the great axis of the plain of khapalu is from south-east to north-west, in the direction of the river machulu, which runs through a very open and wide gravelly plain, apparently for a considerable distance. this stream, which is probably at least as large as the nubra river, has its source in heavily-snowed mountains to the north. the general surface of the plain is gravelly, and its appearance on the whole is so similar to that of nubra that no detailed description is necessary. the river divides in the open gravelly plain into numerous branches, which separate to a considerable distance from one another, and ramify very irregularly. there is not much alluvial accumulation in this plain, except in the immediate vicinity of khapalu, where a very curious isolated rock of black slate rises abruptly in the middle of the plain, its base being washed by one branch of the shayuk, now (after its junction with the machulu) too deep to be forded. behind this rock there is an accumulation of alluvium, forming a steep ridge six or seven hundred feet in height; which it is necessary to cross in travelling from surmu to khapalu, as the abruptness with which the clay-slate rock rises out of the water, completely prevents a passage along the margin of the river. on the nd of november i forded the shayuk a little below the village of abadan, where it runs in two branches, each about a hundred yards wide, and with an average depth of about two feet. a little further down it is joined by the machulu, and it does not appear to be anywhere fordable in its further course, even in winter, so that probably the influx of water brought by that stream is very considerable. i did not, however, see the junction, which is situated on the north side of the plain, quite out of the direct road towards the town of khapalu. where the valley is widest, the mountain ranges on both sides of the river are well seen. the range south of the shayuk rises close at hand into a very steep mountain mass, now much snowed. a pass which leads from khapalu to kartash was (i was informed) already shut up by snow, and impracticable for travellers. to the north, up the wide valley of the machulu, the mountains are more distant, and the main chain of the muztagh is evidently fully in sight; the absence of hills close at hand allowing a considerable extent of it to be seen; it was very heavily snowed. the nearest, and apparently loftiest peak, bore n. w. (magn.) from surmu. [sidenote: khapalu. _november, ._] the principal villages of this open tract are surmu and khapalu, both on the south side of the shayuk, and separated from one another by a high alluvial ridge, which rests on a bold scarped rock rising immediately out of the river. surmu has a very long and narrow tract of cultivation, skirting the gravelly river-bed. it occupies the slopes of a projecting platform of alluvium of no great height. in this village many fields, on a level with the river, have evidently been destroyed by the flood of , as fruit-trees were still standing among the gravel and shingle of the river-beds. khapalu, on the other hand, which is situated at the point of junction of a considerable stream, occupies the surface of a thick bed of alluvium of great extent, sloping very steeply from the apex of the triangle in a recess among the mountains to its base, which is formed by the shayuk. the fort of khapalu is perched at a great height on a remarkable projecting scarped rock, just at the mouth of the ravine behind the village. the cultivation has a width of not less than two miles, and, as it abounds in fruit-trees, it must in summer, when the fields are green and the trees are in leaf, be a place (for tibet) of considerable beauty. from the abruptness of the slope of the alluvial platform, the terrace-walls of the fields are very high, often as much as six feet. the fruit-trees are the same as those commonly cultivated in nubra and chorbat; the elm and _elæagnus_ of nubra are also common, as well as the white poplar. at khapalu there are also a few plane-trees, which do not extend further east. the _lycium_ of nubra, which had entirely disappeared in the narrow and rocky parts of the shayuk, reappeared as soon as the valley spread out into a gravelly plain, being common at abadan, and abundant at surmu and khapalu. a species of berberry, a genus wanting in the higher parts of the shayuk (except in the mountains, where a small alpine species is occasionally seen), was found in surmu. the species was apparently identical with the common berberry of europe, which extends even into the drier valleys of the himalaya. i also recognized a few other new plants--a small, almost herbaceous _sophora_ was one of these, and, still more remarkable, _peganum harmala_, a species which extends from the mediterranean flora as far east as the punjab, and which indicates a very considerable amount of summer heat. the shrubby _hippophaë_ is still very plentiful, but, either from more careful cultivation, or because the nature of the slopes prevents the formation of swampy margins to the little irrigation streams, it does not spread to so great an extent over the cultivated tracts, which, therefore, in the winter season look considerably more bare than those around the villages of nubra. the height of the bed of the shayuk at khapalu may be roughly estimated at about feet, as the determination of the boiling-point of water at my tent, which was high up in the village, gave an elevation of feet. i arrived at khapalu from surmu on the rd of november, and remained there during the th. the weather, which for some days had been very unsettled and disagreeable, suddenly cleared up on the nd of november, and continued for nearly a week very fine, the days being uniformly bright and sunny, with a gentle wind blowing up the valley of the shayuk. the temperature in the sun was extremely agreeable, though the shade maximum was never much higher than °. the nights were clear and cold, the thermometer falling at khapalu more than ° below the freezing-point. a little below khapalu i found a number of people washing the sand of the indus for gold; but the produce seemed to be very trifling, and the work is only carried on during winter, when labour is of no value for other purposes. i purchased for a rupee (paying, i believe, a good deal more than the value) the produce in gold-dust of one man's labour for three weeks. i suppose, however, he only worked occasionally. [sidenote: braghar. _november, ._] below khapalu the valley of the shayuk again begins to contract, but the open plain may be considered to extend for some way below the village of braghar, where a large tributary joins from the north, and to which place there is a great deal of cultivation, especially on the right bank. immediately below braghar, there is a remarkable saline grassy plain, very swampy, and traversed by numerous small streamlets, in which a _chara_ and a linear-leaved _potamogeton_ were abundant. below this plain the mountain spurs close in upon the river, contracting its channel very much, and frequently preventing all passage along the bank. the narrow portion of the river extends within a few miles of iskardo, or for at least thirty miles of river distance. throughout this tract the valley is very similar to that between nubra and chorbat. villages are numerous, occupying very elevated platforms, on which there is frequently luxuriant cultivation. in many of the narrowest and most rugged places there is no passage along the river, and the road crosses spurs of considerable elevation. between kunes and kuru the narrowness of the river is probably at its maximum, as the road lies altogether along a ridge, elevated perhaps a thousand feet, to which the ascents and descents are extremely abrupt. many parts of this ridge are capped with alluvium, which occurs in many places along this part of the course of the shayuk in very great quantity. the largest village on this part of the river is kiris, situated just above the junction of the shayuk and indus, on a nearly level alluvial platform of large size. round kiris there is a very extensive deposit of lacustrine clay, very fine, and horizontally stratified. good sections of this, sometimes at least fifty feet in thickness, are exposed east of kiris, not far from the shayuk. i did not observe any fossils; but in so cursory an inspection as i was able to make, it is very probable that i may have overlooked them. [sidenote: junction of shayuk with indus. _november, ._] the junction of the shayuk and indus rivers takes place a little way below kiris. the shayuk is considerably wider and more rapid than the indus, but much less deep, so that neither river so decidedly preponderates over the other as to enable their relative size to be determined at a glance. probably the discharge of the two will be found nearly equal. the direction of the united streams is the same as that of the shayuk, which the indus joins nearly at a right angle. the granitic and slate rocks of the district of chorbat are continued unaltered as far as the junction of the indus and shayuk. in many places the granite so predominates as to form almost the whole mass of the mountains, but more generally there is also a good deal of slate. the schists are of very various appearance; a very hard black slate is the most common, but in contact with and near the granite many portions of the slaty mass are quite undistinguishable from gneiss. the direction and inclination of the dip vary extremely. in general the granitic veins appear to be parallel to the strata of schist, but instances are not unfrequent where vertical strata of schist are cut through by horizontal veins of granite. [sidenote: nar. _november, ._] on the th of november i encamped at kiris, and next day i passed the junction of the indus and shayuk. the direction of the united streams soon becomes nearly due north, and it flows for many miles through a very narrow ravine, along which the road is of a most difficult nature, partly high on the mountains, partly on platforms of alluvium, and occasionally over angular blocks of rock, which are piled in enormous heaps along the banks of the river. at the most northerly point of the river, where the ravine is narrowest, i passed through the cultivated lands of the village of nar, which extend for more than two miles on the surface of an alluvial platform many hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. leaving this village, i continued to ascend, and entirely lost sight of the indus, which flowed to the south-west, while the road kept winding among rocky hills, gradually ascending to the crest of a low pass, among rocks of black slate, which entirely prevented me from seeing the nature of the surrounding country. from the summit of the ascent i descended gradually down a narrow valley, and emerging at last rather suddenly on an open plain, i found myself in sight of the valley of iskardo, which presented to the eye an expanse of level ground much greater than i had seen since leaving khapalu, to which and to nubra the district round iskardo bears a very close resemblance. when the road entered the open country, at the north-east corner of the plain of iskardo, it lay for miles over loose sand, utterly barren, forming low undulating hills, which rested upon a deposit of pure white clay. three miles from iskardo, a spur from the northern mountains advances close to the river, and the road skirting the latter is for a short distance rocky and uneven. soon, however, it again enters a tract of bare sand, which extends as far as the ferry immediately above the town of iskardo. the river, being here unfordable, is crossed by means of a flat-bottomed boat. [sidenote: iskardo. _november, ._] the plain of iskardo, which surrounds the junction of the shigar river with the indus, is nearly twenty miles in length, and has an average breadth of about five miles. it is elevated about feet above the level of the sea. in its very centre, on the south bank of the indus, and opposite to the junction of the shigar river, an isolated rock of black slate rises to the height of nearly a thousand feet, directly overhanging the indus, parallel to which it stretches for nearly a mile. it is faced on all sides by perpendicular cliffs, inaccessible except at the west end, where a steep and difficult path leads to the summit, which is a long narrow ridge. the name iskardo is a mahommedan corruption of a tibetan name skardo, or kardo, as it is very commonly pronounced; but as the first-mentioned name is most familiar to foreigners, and is likely to become universal, as well from the inhabitants of the district being all mahommedans, as from the country being now subject to kashmir, it is better, i think, to retain it, than to attempt to substitute the more pure tibetan pronunciation. [illustration: iskardo _from south-east of the valley._ _pl. ii._ j. w. del. w. l. walton, lithog. printed by hullmandel & walton.] the mountains which surround the iskardo plain rise at once with great abruptness, and are very steep and bare. those on the south side, derived from the range which separates the indus from the table-land of deotsu, the axis of which is not more than ten or fifteen miles distant, rise very abruptly in rocky pinnacles, covered, at the time i reached the valley, with much snow. two spurs from this range run forward to the indus, one five miles east of iskardo, the other about three miles to the west of it, dividing the whole south side of the valley into three deep bays, each watered by a considerable stream, whose source is in the southern mountains. the mountains on the north side, the terminal spurs of two great branches of the kuenlun or muztagh, which flank the shigar river, are considerably lower, but equally barren and desolate. the river indus traverses the open valley in an extremely winding course. at one time it washes the base of the cliffs which terminate the projecting mountain spurs; at another it flows between high banks of alluvial conglomerate or of fine clay. not unfrequently these clayey cliffs recede to a considerable distance from the river, in which case the intervening space is generally sandy. a small branch of the stream, at times little more than a chain of pools, often runs close to the cliffs, indicating a former channel of the river; and when this is the case, the low ground between the two channels is often swampy and grassy. the bed of the indus in this part of its course is very little inclined, the stream flowing in general very gently over a sandy bed, its surface quite smooth and tranquil, occasionally only a little rippled in turning round a projecting rocky spur, where its bottom is gravelly and the inclination perhaps a little greater. opposite iskardo the indus is even in the depth of winter a noble stream, often more than feet wide, and nine or ten feet deep in the centre. iskardo occupies a nearly level plain of fine alluvial clay elevated fifty or sixty feet above the river, and extending from the isolated rock which overhangs the indus towards the mountains on the south side of the valley. to the right and left of the rocky hill, two small streams have excavated for themselves out of the soft clay deep and wide ravines, which are covered with coarse gravel, and are faced by more or less steep banks of clay or sand. the surface of the platform on which all the cultivated ground lies is watered by means of artificial canals, brought from a distance of nearly two miles, from the point where the streams issue from among the hills. the neighbourhood of the rock of iskardo was doubtless selected as the site of the principal town of the kingdom of balti, from the advantages which it afforded as a place of defence; and in the days of the independence of the country a fortified palace occupied its eastern extremity, while the western and more accessible end was apparently protected by a series of rude works. the principal buildings of the palace seem to have been at the very base of the rock. a mass of ruins, showing large blocks of well-hewn stone, fragments of marble fountains, and some solid walls supporting terraces, which appear at one time to have been gardens, alone remain to show the former magnificence of the place. a mausoleum, raised to the memory of the last independent king, ahmed shah, perched on a rock perhaps feet above the plain, is still untouched and uninjured. an aqueduct or canal extends in a direct line from the palace towards the mountains, a distance of at least a mile. it is an exceedingly massive work, consisting of two walls raised perhaps fifteen feet above the level of the plain, and built of very large blocks of hewn stone. the intervening space is filled with earth. at present, a small conduit, a foot or so wide, brings all the water which is required for the use of the inhabitants of iskardo; but a very large quantity might be conveyed along the aqueduct, and the work is so strong and substantial that very little repair would be requisite to restore it to its original condition. the fortified post of the present rulers of the country is built on the margin of the platform of alluvium, on the right bank of the little stream which joins the indus to the east of the rock of iskardo, and is separated by a hollow from the palace and the principal part of the village. it is built of unburnt brick, and is extremely irregular in shape, with rounded bastions at the angles. the houses of iskardo are very much scattered over a large extent of surface, so that there is no appearance of a town; nor is the population in the immediate neighbourhood of the rock so extensive as that of some of the more remote villages in the valley, and especially of those on the banks of the shigar river, which are very richly cultivated. many of the iskardo houses, however, are very good, being often of two stories, and built of unburnt bricks in a framework of wood. latticed windows, covered with paper or small plates of mica, are also common. the roofs are all flat, and covered with mud beaten hard. [sidenote: lacustrine clay. _november, ._] the lacustrine clay formation occurs in great quantity throughout the valley of iskardo, and is nowhere seen in greater perfection than in the immediate neighbourhood of the town, where the cliffs facing the indus, and those along the little lateral streams which descend from the south, exhibit an abundance of sections of these beds. the height of the cliffs is very variable; but it is seldom less than thirty feet, and to the east of the town is as much as a hundred feet. the clay formation varies much in appearance, being most commonly a very fine unctuous cream-coloured clay, stratified quite horizontally, but occasionally gritty and mixed with numerous particles of mica. now and then thin beds of sand and of small waterworn pebbles alternate with the finer clays. in many places near the rock of iskardo, the beds are very irregular, undulating a good deal, and at times exhibiting very remarkable flexures, as if the isolated rocky mass (which must have once been under water) had formed eddies in the lake, and prevented that regularity of deposition which is elsewhere so universal. fossils are very rare in these clays, but occurred in several different localities. close to iskardo i once found a very few small specimens of a _lymnæa_ and _planorbis_, but after repeatedly searching carefully did not succeed in obtaining any more. i was more fortunate in two places east of iskardo, where fresh-water shells are sufficiently common in one or two thin seams of very fine clay, mixed with a good deal of apparently vegetable matter. the great mass of the clay is, however, quite non-fossiliferous. the surface of the clay formation round iskardo is very undulating, and is often covered with masses of large boulders. opposite two of the ravines which penetrate the mountains on the southern side of the valley, two very remarkable banks of boulders project forward into the valley. they consist of very large fragments of rock, angular or more or less rounded, piled on one another to a height of forty or fifty feet. they terminate abruptly, and are, i think, evidently moraines. on the very top of the isolated rock, in the middle of the iskardo plain, horizontal beds of coarse sandstone rest upon the hard clay-slate of which the rock is composed. this sandstone crumbles with great ease in the hand, the particles of which it is composed being very slightly coherent. these beds, in which i could find no traces of shells or of vegetable remains, are elevated at least or feet above the level of the indus. the sandstone seems to cap the whole hill, but is exposed only in a few places, being in a great measure covered by the loose drift or alluvium which has been deposited above it. [sidenote: vegetation. _november, ._] the vegetation of iskardo had so entirely disappeared, that i was able to form very little idea of its nature. a few shrubby species, and some withered fragments of autumn flowering plants, alone remained. on the whole, i was struck with the similarity of the few plants which i recognized with those of nubra and le. _artemisiæ_ and _chenopodiaceæ_ were still abundant. _hippophaë_ was the universal shrub along all the streamlets, and _lycium_ was common in sandy places; a berberry (the same already seen at khapalu) was also frequent. the few novelties were kashmir plants. _lycopsis arvensis_, _prunella vulgaris_, a thistle, a species of _sium_, some gentians, and _ranunculus aquatilis_, were the most indian forms which i met with. from the mountains i procured specimens of a juniper (_j. excelsa_), and of the alpine birch of the himalaya, which skirts the southern borders of the tibetan region, without extending into the driest parts of that country. chapter viii. leave iskardo in the direction of kashmir -- first march through snow to turgu -- lacustrine clay -- it extends into narrow valleys beyond nar -- gol -- junction of indus and shayuk -- parkuta -- tolti -- kartash -- extensive lacustrine deposits -- tarkata -- road turns up the dras river -- ulding thung -- fall of snow -- hardas -- karbu -- continued snow -- dras -- find pass in front shut by deep snow -- obliged to return to iskardo -- rafts and rope-bridges on indus -- _elæagnus_ and apricot apparently wild -- winter at iskardo. [sidenote: upper part of iskardo plain. _december, ._] on the nd of december i left iskardo, in the direction of kashmir, by way of dras, all other routes being shut with snow. my first march was to turgu, seven miles. the ground was all the way covered with snow which had fallen during the night, but it thawed a good deal during the day, making the journey rather unpleasant. the road lay along the south bank of the river, at first over the level platform of lacustrine clay, among large boulders, which were scattered over its surface, but soon descending by a narrow and steep footpath, on the face of the clayey cliff, to the level of the river, to cross a deep bay, from which the clay formation has been entirely removed, to a large village three miles from iskardo, through the cultivation of which the road ascended gradually, and proceeded on the barren stony slopes behind. about five miles from iskardo, a spur, from the mountain range on the south, which abuts in a scarped cliff upon the river, has been taken advantage of by the inhabitants to build a small gateway, through which the road is made to run. the extreme steepness of the mountain mass which lies to the south and east, makes it scarcely possible to approach iskardo along the south bank of the river from these directions, without passing through this gateway, and, therefore, a small party of soldiers is kept on this rocky pass by the sikh rulers of the country. a species of _daphne_ was very common on the rocky hills about this pass, apparently an evergreen, as it was in full leaf in the midst of the snow. from the higher parts of the road, and from the rocky pass which overhangs the river, there is an extensive view over the barren sandy waste on the north bank of the river. the lacustrine clay is, at this end of the valley, very thick and but little excavated, forming cliffs which rise close to the river, which has, as it were, worn for itself a narrow channel in the clay formation. the banks or cliffs are of very different heights, and many of them consist of alluvial gravel and boulders, overlying and quite obscuring the clays. behind turgu, and in many places on the last part of the march, there are great masses of angular fragments of rock piled into a steeply sloping mass, as if they had fallen from the mountains behind, but so mixed with smaller fragments and with gravel, that it seems probable that they were accumulated under water. [sidenote: waterworn rocks. _december, ._] the next day's march, from turgu to gol, round the great bend of the indus, was entirely barren. on the western side of the curve several rocky spurs were crossed, but after the road turns to the south it runs generally on the surface of very elevated platforms of coarse alluvial debris, covered in many places with enormous boulders, partly derived, in all probability, from the fall of masses of rock from the cliffs above, but in more than one place so curiously arranged, at the apertures of lateral ravines, as to be, i think, almost certainly of glacial origin. many of the large boulders which occurred in the alluvium were observed to be much waterworn, spherical cavities being worn out in them. similar waterworn rocks were also seen _in situ_ at great heights above the river, in places to which no water has at present access, and where it is difficult to understand in what way the effect was produced. behind the alluvial platforms, which are generally one or two hundred feet above the level of the river, the mountains rise precipitously, in cliffs of granite, which has now replaced the slate rocks of iskardo. [sidenote: extent of lacustrine clay. _december, ._] at the point where the river changes its direction from north to south-west, the mountains on the southern bank advance quite to the river, and on the north side also they approach very near. it would therefore, at first sight, appear that the lake, in which the clay formation of iskardo has been deposited, had here terminated to the eastward, no clay being seen in the narrow ravine above nar, or near the river anywhere between nar and gol. i had at first no doubt that i had reached the eastern extremity of the lake; but some time after passing the most northerly point of the ravine i observed a patch of very fine cream-coloured clay, quite similar to the finest portions of the iskardo formation, clinging in a remarkable position on the flank of a very steep rocky cliff, not less than or feet above the river. several other patches came into sight soon after, all high up on the mountain-sides; one above the village of golochu, and others at intervals all the way to the junction of the indus and shayuk. i cannot, therefore, doubt that the lake in which the clay beds of kiris were deposited, was the same as that which occupied the iskardo basin; nor does it seem easy to fix its exact boundaries. the great height of the patches of clay, in the narrow channel above nar, show that the depth of the lake had been very considerable; and if we assume a depth of feet, which seems necessary, and at the same time admit the arrangement of the ancient rocks to have been the same as at present, we must either suppose some great barrier to have existed in the narrow passage below khapalu, or must admit that the khapalu lake was also continuous with that of iskardo. i did not, however, observe any beds of fine clay higher up than kuru, in the narrow part of the ravine of the shayuk, which would warrant the drawing such a conclusion; although vast masses of alluvium certainly abound there, piled at great heights above the river. is it possible that these may at one time have been continuous, and have blocked up the whole valley, and that the portions now seen capping ridges, whose origin is otherwise inexplicable, are the last remnants of a continuous mass which occupied the whole interspace? and if so, to what are we to ascribe the deposition of such an enormous mass of alluvium-like accumulation? [sidenote: junction of indus with shayuk. _december, ._] to the eastward of the village of gol the valley of the indus again becomes a little wider, an open sandy plain extending round the junction of the two rivers. the cultivation round gol is on a high platform of alluvium; but the road descends, soon after leaving the village, nearly to the level of the river, and continues over the low ground, skirting the mountains of the southern bank, till it reaches the junction of the two rivers, where it turns abruptly to the south, ascending the left bank of the indus, which runs nearly due north in a narrow rocky ravine. a bluff projecting ridge of granite, sixty or eighty feet high, polished on the surface by aqueous action, and of a brilliantly brown-black colour, so that the nature of the rock is only discoverable by breaking it, here advances close to the river, and is crossed by a steep sinuous path, eked out by flights of steps, with wooden supports, where it would otherwise be impracticable. the indus is here very narrow and deep, and runs with an extremely rapid current. the path, after crossing this ridge, again descends to the level of the river. even in this narrow ravine i was surprised to find the fine cream-coloured clay of the lacustrine formation, similar to many of the beds of the same deposit round iskardo. it was here quite on a level with the river. [sidenote: indus valley. _december, ._] the mountains rise on both sides of the indus very abruptly, being almost always precipitous. from the narrowness of the valley the great elevation of these is not seen, and the lesser height of those on the right bank of the indus, which form the termination of the chain separating that river from the shayuk, is not brought prominently to notice. for more than two miles, the ravine continues very narrow, and several steep spurs are crossed. it then becomes gradually a little wider, narrow platforms of conglomerate skirting the stream, and changes its direction from nearly due south to south-east. the right bank is stony and unproductive the whole way, but on the left there is one small village, three miles from the junction of the shayuk, and thence after three miles of desert, a succession of small villages continuing with little intermission on the surface of alluvial platforms as far as parkuta, at which i encamped. in one of the villages a good many small juniper-trees were seen. the lacustrine clay formation, though not continuous throughout the whole of this day's march, may be traced in patches, with so little interval that its former continuity cannot be doubted. the spots in which i observed its presence in the narrow ravine were all close to the river, the low level of the road not permitting an extended view of the higher slopes of the mountains. further up, however, patches were in my subsequent april journey seen at considerable elevations, but in december the slopes were covered with snow to within a thousand feet of the river. in several places the clay formed cliffs, which rose perpendicularly from the indus, and could be seen to be covered with modern alluvium deposited during floods, just as the ancient rocks are in other places. the clay appeared everywhere extremely fine, without any intermixture of sand or micaceous grains. i saw no appearance of fossils, which i think never occur in the very fine cream-coloured clays, but seem always to accompany more sandy, or at least gritty varieties, as if the influx of a small stream, and probably the proximity of land, were requisite to the existence of testaceous mollusks; while the central part of the lake, in which the very finest clays were deposited, was quite devoid of them. [sidenote: parkuta. _december, ._] parkuta is a very large village, three or four hundred feet above the river, occupying both slopes of a deep ravine cut in the thick mass of alluvium by a large stream from the south. the alluvium is scarped towards the indus, and a low granitic hill, the cause of its accumulation to such a height, just rises above the general surface of the platform. this is covered with a mass of buildings, formerly the residence of the rajah of parkuta, a branch of the same family who ruled at iskardo, and dependent on them while that state remained independent; he has, however, been removed by the sikhs, and his house is at present untenanted. the village is large, with extensive cultivation, and many fine fruit-trees. vines are plentiful, climbing over the poplars. [sidenote: tolti. _december, ._] on the th of december my day's journey carried me to tolti, a distance of twelve miles. the valley continued narrow, and the mountains rose precipitously on both sides. on the early part of the march there were many villages, and much cultivation on the left bank. the village of urdi, three or four miles from parkuta, seemed very populous, and extended for a great distance along the river. it was remarkable for an aqueduct supported on pillars of stone, which crossed a ravine immediately above the village. at this spot the cultivation terminated abruptly, and the alluvial platform was for more than a mile, during which space it gradually narrowed by the encroachments of the cliffs, covered with an accumulation of very large granitic boulders, which seemed to have fallen on it from the mountains behind. [sidenote: kartash. _december, ._] as i approached tolti the valley of the indus became much more rugged and narrow. a long gentle ascent to a ridge more than a thousand feet above the bottom of the valley, but which dipped abruptly to the river, occupied the latter part of the march. at tolti the belt of cultivation is very narrow, just skirting the river on very narrow platforms of alluvium, which are irrigated by artificial canals carried with considerable labour between the fields and the mountains. tolti was the most gloomy village which i had yet seen, the precipitous mountains forming a circle all round it, and almost shutting out the light of day. the bird's-nest fort in the ravine behind the village, perched on the top of a rock (in a most untenable position, though probably well suited for defence against sudden attack), accorded well with the gloomy aspect of the place. the temperature was here considerably lower than in the more open valley, as large patches of snow lay still unmelted in the fields, though four days had elapsed since its fall. at gol, two days before, it had quite melted. on a bank a mile or two below tolti, i saw a few trees of _populus euphratica_, just recognizable by a few withered leaves which still remained on the tree. from tolti, i made three marches to tarkata, a small village on the indus, six miles below its junction with the river of dras. the general aspect of the valley of the indus was but little changed in this distance, notwithstanding a very long and remarkable bend of the river above kartash, in which its direction is to the eastward of north. from tolti, the easiest road in an upward direction crosses the indus, and proceeds on the right bank; but to avoid the labour of crossing, i suppose, my guides conducted me by a road on the left bank. on this side, the lower part of the valley is so steep as to be impracticable; and i found it necessary to ascend at once from tolti on a stony ridge, almost directly away from the river. the ascent was long and fatiguing; the ridge being capped, in the same manner as that above kunes on the shayuk, with masses of alluvium. the ridge was more than feet above the river, and its upper part was covered with snow, through which the path lay for four or five miles, after which it descended very abruptly to the river, which had been in sight almost all the way, generally running among precipitous rocks, but with a few villages scattered at intervals on the northern bank. after regaining the bank of the river, the road was for five or six miles nearly level, passing opposite the village of kartash, with a fort on a hill. here still resides the rajah ali sher khan, the most intelligent of the princes of balti; though now past the prime of life, he still retains the intelligence and kind hospitality for which he is so deservedly praised by vigne. [sidenote: indus valley. _december, ._] kartash being situated at the northern or lower end of the great bend of the indus, and in an extremely narrow part of the ravine, is a most sombre-looking place. it is possible, however, that in summer, when the villages are green with cultivation and fruit-trees, the appearance of this and other places may be less gloomy, and that, from having only seen this part of tibet in the depth of winter, i may be disposed to regard it in too unfavourable a point of view. the abrupt and precipitous rise of the mountains on all sides must undoubtedly tend strongly to modify the summer temperature, which, from the want of rain, and the reflection from masses of bare rock, would otherwise be oppressive. the fort seems to have some good buildings, and to be kept in excellent order, and the village looked extensive and prosperous. all along the narrow ravine, from tolti nearly as far as tarkata, deposits of alluvium were very extensively developed, not only in the valley of the river, but at considerable heights on the ridges. there was, however, i believe, none of the lacustrine clay, as contradistinguished from the coarser alluvium. i speak here with considerable hesitation, as i find with regret that i have not in my notes attended with sufficient care to the distinction between the two, not having at the time sufficiently adverted to their probably different origin. i am now disposed to think that in the narrow ravine above tolti was situated the barrier which bounded on the east the lake basin of iskardo, a vast inland sea, which must have extended thence in a north-westerly direction as far as rondu. this barrier, if my supposition be correct, must have consisted of a mass of coarse drift or alluvium, entirely blocking up the narrow ravine to a height of three thousand feet or more above the present level of the indus. the mountains all along this ravine are extremely elevated, the peaks above kartash (from which a pass leads to khapalu on the shayuk) being, i should think, not less than , feet. the bareness and desolation of their sides exceeded anything i had seen since leaving iskardo, and quite equalled the most rugged parts of tibet which i had yet visited. they consisted of large masses of rock, split and fractured in every direction, often very precipitous, without a vestige of soil, and with scarcely the slightest traces of vegetation. immense tracts, both along the river and on the slopes of the ravines descending from the mountains, were covered with boulders or with angular fragments of rock, strewed irregularly on the surface, or piled in masses one on another. granite formed the great mass of the mountains, mixed with stratified rocks, which were always highly metamorphic, but extremely variable in appearance, sometimes, though rarely, having the appearance of ordinary gneiss. a singular porphyritic rock appeared (as boulders) along the river in one place only. about two miles west of tarkata, the indus resumes its more usual direction, and, at the same time, its valley becomes somewhat more open, the mountains, without any diminution of elevation, receding considerably from the river. their lower slopes present a very different aspect from those in other parts of the indus, being composed not of primitive rock, but of a soft and almost incoherent sandstone, alternating irregularly and without any definite order with boulder conglomerate, and fine clay. these beds, which are very extensively developed on both sides of the river, around the village of tarkata, for some distance in both directions, attain a thickness of at least six or seven hundred feet. they are, however, very irregular, forming a succession of ridges separated by deep ravines or gullies, on the sides of which fine sections of the strata are generally exposed, showing them to be uniformly horizontal, and to consist of a great many alternations of sand, clay, and drift. above tarkata, very fine clays were abundant. [sidenote: soft sandstone rocks. _december, ._] the sandstone, of which a greater part of these curious deposits consists, is formed principally of coarse grains of quartz, which only cohere very slightly, and easily crumble under pressure. it is quite similar in appearance to the sandstone which occurs on the summit of the rock of iskardo, differing only in being very much more extensively developed than that is, and in being associated and alternating with the very fine clays resembling those which occupy the lower levels of the valley of iskardo. the sandstones of tarkata did not appear to be fossiliferous, nor did i, in the slight examination i was able to give them, discover any shells in the fine clays in this neighbourhood. the general similarity, however, of these deposits to the lacustrine clays of the iskardo valley, makes it nearly certain that their origin is similar, while the association of the sandstones and the fine clays in the neighbourhood of tarkata, renders it probable that i am right in assuming the arenaceous beds of the summit of the rock of iskardo to be lacustrine. [sidenote: floating ice. _december, ._] ever since leaving iskardo, the weather had been very unsettled, but no more snow had fallen. the sky had been pretty generally overcast with light clouds, and during the day the wind had almost invariably blown down the river, generally with great violence, and, especially in the narrowest parts of the valley, in furious gusts, against which it was most laborious to make any progress. the mornings had been always frosty, but the temperature rose in the middle of the day several degrees above °. on the th of december, a sudden increase of cold seemed to take place, the temperature not rising above the freezing-point. large cakes of ice, which appeared early on the morning of that day, floating down the river, indicated an evident commencement of very severe weather in the upper part of its course, and the descent of such masses of ice, in cakes of from one to ten feet in diameter, tended very much to lower the temperature of all parts of the river to which they extended. the elevation of tarkata i found to be feet above the sea. the road from iskardo to kashmir leaves the valley of the indus at the junction of the river of dras, and follows the course of that river almost to its source. the lower part of the valley of dras is a deep and narrow rocky ravine, bordered by precipices of granite, which are so steep that the bottom of the valley is quite inaccessible. in passing from the indus into the valley of dras, the road crosses the granitic spur which separates the two rivers, at an elevation of about feet above the indus, ascending to this height very rapidly along a steep spur, which recedes almost in a perpendicular direction from that river. from the shoulder of this ridge, which was elevated probably about , feet, the course of the indus was visible for some distance above the junction of the river of dras. it appeared to be hemmed in very closely by rocky mountain spurs. a good many patches of fine lacustrine clay were in sight, on both banks. [sidenote: valley of dras. _december, ._] from the same ridge, the view up the dras valley was very remarkable. the river of that name, which formed many deep pools and was partially frozen, ran at the bottom of a deep gorge. on the right bank opposite to where i stood, a sheer precipice rose nearly to a level with my eye. between the ridge on which i stood and the next in succession up the dras valley, an open and shallow valley, everywhere strewed with enormous blocks of granite, sloped gently till it approached the brink of the almost perpendicular cliffs which overhang the dras river. crossing this open valley, and the low spur beyond it, i encamped at a small village called ulding thung, situated at the point of junction of the dras river, with a considerable tributary descending from the west. this little village occupies the gentle slope of a hill-side, but i encamped at the lowest part of it, which was a small level plain surrounded by a number of giant boulders, resting on the upper edge of a very steep slope, and evidently, i think, of glacial origin. they were quite angular, and not less than from twenty to thirty feet in length. on the slope of the hill above my encampment at ulding, the lacustrine clay formation again occurred in great quantity. it was a very fine impalpable clay, without fossils, and was here (as is not uncommon elsewhere) dug out by the inhabitants for the purpose of extracting its salt, which is obtained in a state of brine by simply washing the clay with water. the elevation of this clay formation was probably a good deal more than feet, but not greater than that of many of the hills and patches of similar deposit around tarkata in the valley of the indus. at daybreak on the morning of the th of december i found that between three and four inches of snow had fallen during the night. it had ceased snowing at that time; and during the day, which was stormy and often very cloudy, no more fell. there was a good deal of thaw during the day, and towards evening the snow, except in sheltered spots, was nearly melted. my day's journey was about ten miles, to the village of hardas, on the left bank of the dras river; passing about two miles before the end of the march the river of kargyl or pashkyum, a very large stream which descends from the south-east. during the earlier part of this day, the road was extremely bad. it descended from ulding abruptly to the level of the dras river, to cross at its point of junction a large tributary whose source is in the eastern slopes of deotsu. a succession of steep ascents and descents followed for four or five miles, throughout which distance the ravine through which the river ran was narrow and precipitous and quite without villages. further up, the valley widened a little, the mountains rose less steeply, and left narrow strips of level ground along the margin of the stream. [sidenote: snow storm. _december, ._] very early on the morning of the th of december, it began again to snow, and continued with little intermission throughout the day. i marched ten miles to karbu, crossing the river three miles above hardas, and keeping on the right bank during the remainder of the day. i could see that the valley was wider than the day before, but the incessant snow made the appearance of the country undistinguishable. the margins of the stream were occasionally fringed with bushes of poplar and willow. karbu is a village high up a steep lateral valley, with scattered groves of juniper on the sides of the hills above the cultivation. by evening the depth of snow was about fifteen inches. on the th of december, after marching five miles through a heavy fall of snow to the village of tashgang, crossing the river by a wooden bridge close to the village, a violent storm of wind and snow-drift, blowing directly down the valley, compelled me to halt for the night. the snow-storm continued till about eight p.m., when the weather cleared, and the night was clear and starlight. next morning, the weather continuing fine, i was able to proceed to dras. the depth of snow had increased to about two feet; and the labour of progressing through this depth of untrodden snow was much increased by the shortness of the steps of the porters, treading exactly after one another, so as to form pits in the snow, not more than a foot apart, and alternately on the right and left. [sidenote: dras. _december, ._] i reached the sikh fort at dras, which was distant eleven miles, about two o'clock; the road was pretty level and the valley open, with low hills on either hand. the depth of snow increased as i advanced, and was three feet in the plain round the fort. here i was greeted by the most unwelcome tidings, that my advance so far was fruitless, the pass in front being blocked up with snow. for this i was quite unprepared, having been led to believe that the road to kashmir in this direction was always open, and no hint having been given me at iskardo that my delay there might in the least prevent my reaching kashmir. the heavy snow-fall of the last three or four days seemed to have been something quite unusual; and it had accumulated, as i was told, on the pass to a depth which quite precluded all possibility of a passage for many days to come. notwithstanding all these assurances, i should certainly have tried to advance at least as far as maten, had i not found at dras one of the principal inhabitants of kargyl, who had returned the day before from that place, after attempting in the morning to advance towards the pass, which is ten miles further on, and being stopped by finding the snow ten and twelve feet deep, and quite soft. after the assurances of this traveller, i should not have been justified in taking so many porters across the pass, supposing them to have acceded to my wishes to make the attempt; i therefore very reluctantly gave up the idea of proceeding. it then became a question what i should do. it might and would probably be many weeks before the pass would be practicable for loaded men. to have remained at dras so long would have been impossible. the demands of my party for fuel were found very difficult to supply, even for a day, the faggots of brushwood, which alone are there available, being soon consumed, and, therefore, unwillingly parted with; i therefore resolved to return to iskardo, and remain there till the return of spring should enable me to resume my travels, and to visit the district further down the indus, before crossing into kashmir. [sidenote: return towards iskardo. _december, ._] my return journey, being from a severe to a milder climate, was sufficiently agreeable. at first a succession of bright and clear days reduced the temperature very much. the thermometer fell to zero in the mornings, and the frost throughout the day was intense. i was no longer able to inhabit my tent, which i had continued to occupy up to the period of my arrival at dras, where, in the sikh fort, i found, rather to my surprise, a room, with a fire-place and chimney, allotted for my accommodation by the kindness of the commandant. in descending again towards the indus, i took shelter in the villages, occupying, if possible, a cow-house in preference to one used by the inhabitants. the houses are generally built of waterworn stones, without cement, but plastered with mud outside and inside. the roofs are flat; the rafters are unsawn trees or branches of poplar, covered with willow twigs, over which is laid a thick coating of mud. a hole in the centre of the roof serves for a chimney, the fire being made in the centre of the floor. in some of the poorer villages the houses were less elaborate, consisting merely of wattle-work of willow twigs, covered with a thin coating of clay. [sidenote: frozen waterfalls. _december, ._] in the open plain below dras i observed many withered stems of _prangos_, the celebrated umbelliferous plant so much valued by the inhabitants of dras as a food for their sheep, still bearing ripe seeds. juniper, too, was common, even along the bank of the stream. as i descended the river, i found that a very few days had made a great change in the temperature. the river was everywhere hard frozen, and all the little streams which ran down the mountain-sides were coated with a thick shell of ice. more than once i saw a waterfall with a covering, perhaps a yard in thickness, of clear blue ice, under which the little streamlet could be distinctly seen. at ulding, though the cold was severe, i found the ground partially free of snow, so that the amount of fall, at that distance from the central chain of mountains, had been quite insignificant. on the th of december, on which day i regained the valley of the indus, it was again snowing heavily, after an interval of exactly seven days. the river was now entirely frozen over, and so solid, that one of my servants, a native of india, losing his way in the snow-storm, instead of turning to the left on arriving at the indus, walked across the river to a village on the right bank, without being aware that he had quitted the proper road. instead of keeping the left bank of the river, as i had done in my upward course, i crossed it on the ice about three or four miles above the village of kartash, or karmang, as it is also called, and kept on the north side till within a mile of tolti. about two miles below kartash, there are a succession of rapids in the stream, which extend, without much intermission, considerably more than a mile, and must produce a very considerable change in the elevation of its bed. the river was nowhere frozen between kartash and tolti, the stream being too rapid to freeze readily. in crossing to the left bank i made use of a raft of skins, which consisted of a light frame-work of willow rods, six feet square, resting on about a dozen inflated sheep or goat skins. this flimsy contrivance just floated on the water when loaded with three or four people. [sidenote: rope bridges. _december, ._] at tolti and at karmang are the only rope-bridges which i saw on the indus, above iskardo. the cables used in their construction are here made of willow twigs, twisted into a thick rope. seven such ropes on each side are combined to form the parallel lateral cables, about a yard apart, from which the road way of the bridge is suspended. these bridges are perfectly safe, though, from their open structure, rather formidable to those who are not accustomed to use them. the principle on which they are made is the same as one which is in use in all the hill provinces of india, from the khasya mountains and butan, as far west as the indus; but the material differs with each particular locality, cane being used in the most eastern parts, rope (often of grass or _eriophorum_) in the western himalaya; and in tibet, where even that material is not available, willow twigs are employed as a substitute. in many parts of the indus valley, even in the most rugged and desolate spots, i noticed, occasionally, trees of the _elæagnus_ and of apricot, growing in rocky places along the river, where it was very evident that they had never been planted. the _elæagnus_ is always conspicuous, even in mid-winter, in consequence of the withered leaves remaining attached to the tree instead of falling at the end of autumn. occasionally, no doubt, the occurrence of these trees was due to the former existence of villages in the vicinity of the places in which they were observed, but they also seemed sometimes to occur in places where no cultivation could ever have existed. their occurrence, however, must, i think, be considered purely accidental: they were too few in number to be regarded as really indigenous; nor is it surprising that these trees, which are so extensively cultivated round all the villages of baltistan, and so universally used as food by the inhabitants, should occasionally vegetate at a great distance from their usual place of growth. [sidenote: winter at iskardo. _december, ._] i reached iskardo on the evening of the th of december, and succeeded, without difficulty, in hiring a house sufficiently large to accommodate all my party. as i remained stationary at this place for two months, i was able to make some observations of the thermometer, and to watch the state of the weather during the whole of that period. the elevation of iskardo above the level of the sea is about feet. winter may be said to have commenced on the th of november, on which day the first snow fell. from that date, falls of snow recurred constantly at intervals, which varied from two or three days to a week. the earlier falls were very slight, not more than an inch or two in depth, but the quantity gradually increased, until each fall was from four to six inches. the entire depth of the snow in the middle of february, beyond which time the fresh falls were insignificant, was from fifteen to eighteen inches. after each fall of snow, the weather usually became bright and calm, with a serene cloudless sky. the sun shone out brightly, and was agreeably warm to the feel, while the temperature of the air rose nearly to, or a little above, the freezing-point. in the earlier part of the winter, the snow melted rapidly, and the ground in the open valley was generally nearly free of it before the next fall. after the beginning of january, however, the cold increased, and the snow lay permanently, except on the most sunny slopes. the sun seemed to have much less power, and little thaw took place except on rocks and beaten paths. the diminution in the quantity of snow by evaporation was often considerable. the greatest cold which was registered at iskardo was at daybreak on the th of february, when fahrenheit's thermometer stood at half a degree above zero. the mean temperature at sunrise during the whole winter was ½°, and that at two p.m. ¾°. the mean temperature during the period from the th of december to the st of january was ½°, and from the st to the th of february ¾°. the increase of cold was principally by the depression of the night temperature, the mean highest temperature being within a fraction of a degree the same during both periods. on the first or second day of clear weather after a fall of snow, the temperature in the morning was often very low, with abundant hoar-frost, which, except at such times, was not seen at all. the surface of the plain was covered with a dense fog, which remained till nearly noon before the sun was able to dispel it. on the second or third day the sky would become hazy, the sun being partly obscured by a thin stratum of cloud at a great elevation. during the continuance of this haze, the temperature was always more elevated than when the sky was clear. the hazy weather was once or twice dissipated by violent winds, without any fall of snow on the open plain; but more generally it increased gradually, till the sky was completely and densely overcast, and snow began again to fall, perhaps most frequently during the night. during the greater part of the winter the snow was invariably in extremely minute grains. it was not till the latter part of february, when spring was rapidly approaching, that large flakes fell. i more than once observed the phenomenon of small quantities of extremely fine-grained snow falling when the sky was quite clear, and the air at the surface of the earth quite motionless. during clear weather very little thaw took place, the cold produced by radiation appearing to counteract the sun's action; at the same time the snow diminished rapidly by evaporation, which was not the case when the sky was overcast. the fall of snow was evidently much less considerable in the open plain than on the mountains round iskardo. during the heavier falls, the snow on the steep mountain slopes often slipped downwards. it was but rarely that these avalanches were visible, but the noise of the snow in motion was heard like distant thunder, often many times a day, and the bare spots which it had left could be seen after the snow-storm had ceased. when the weather was settled, the wind was in general very gentle, and blew up the valley of the indus; during snow-storms it was usually violent, and very irregular in direction. the storms came mostly from the south-west, a moisture-bringing upper current of air from that direction being condensed by the dry and cold north wind. my collections had accumulated to such an extent, and got into such confusion, during five months of almost incessant travelling, that i was very glad to have an opportunity of devoting some time to their arrangement, and found, without difficulty, occupation for all my time during two months of rest. the snow was never so deep as to prevent me from taking regular exercise, so that i was soon familiar with all the roads in the neighbourhood of the town, and examined the cliffs of clay in every direction in search of fossils, without discovering (as i had some hopes of doing) any mammalian remains. the communication with le was open all winter; i was therefore able to correspond with captain strachey, who, after examining the course of the indus from the chinese boundary downwards, was spending the winter there. by his assistance i succeeded in replenishing my store of tea and sugar, both of which were exhausted. the sugar which i procured from le was very good, and the brick tea, though not superexcellent in quality, was, in the absence of better, quite good enough for use. other supplies i had no difficulty in procuring at iskardo, sheep and flour being abundant. the wood supplied for fuel was almost entirely _elæagnus_, no wild timber occurring in the country. the thannadar of iskardo, who is the deputy of maharajah gulab singh of kashmir, is the governor of all balti, but he rules by means of native mahommedan chiefs or rajahs. in some instances, where no opposition was made to the sikh invasion, the former ruler was allowed to retain his position; in other cases a change was made. at iskardo, mahommed shah, the present rajah, had been an exile in kashmir, from being on bad terms with his father. he is a feeble and sickly young man, without the energy of his father, m. vigne's host in iskardo. the inhabitants of balti, though tibetan in language and appearance, are all mahommedans, and differ from the more eastern tibetans of le (who call themselves bhotias, or inhabitants of bhot) by being taller and less stoutly made. their language, i am told, differs considerably from that of le, but only as one dialect differs from another. chapter ix. leave iskardo for rondu -- insurrection in gilgit -- koardu -- kamar -- enter narrow part of indus valley -- difficult road -- range of mountains south of indus -- description of rondu -- thawar -- avalanches -- alluvium -- swing bridge -- villages -- juniper -- _pinus excelsa_ -- rocks -- vegetation -- return to iskardo -- agriculture of balti -- game of chaugan -- chakor hunting -- shigar valley -- journey towards kashmir -- dras valley -- karbu -- dras fort -- maten -- cross pass into kashmir -- baltal -- valley of sind river -- sonamarg -- gagangir -- gond -- gangan -- ganderbal -- enter main valley of kashmir -- town of kashmir -- description of kashmir -- lacustrine formation -- trap hills -- lake -- climate -- vegetation. it was not till the th of february that the approach of spring was sufficiently decided to permit me to make a move with any chance of fair weather. on that day i started from iskardo, with the intention of making eight or ten days' journey down the indus in the direction of rondu. the district of rondu may be understood to comprise the whole of the narrow part of the indus valley, from the western end of the iskardo plain to the great bend of that river, where it assumes a southerly direction. it is only during the winter season that the route along the valley of the indus is much frequented, as it is quite impracticable for horses, and so very bad even for travellers on foot, that the road over the passes towards hasora is always preferred in summer. at the season of my journey i had no option, the passes being still covered with heavy snow. [sidenote: koardu. _february, ._] unfortunately for my objects, the inhabitants of gilgit had since the beginning of winter been in a state of open insurrection, and had besieged the garrison placed by gulab singh in one of the forts of the valley. attempts had been made by the thannadar of iskardo to send a force to their relief, but the garrison of that place was too weak to enable him to detach more than a very small portion of it; and the forced levies of balti men, collected in all the districts of the country, had evidently no desire to fight against the more active inhabitants of gilgit and the robber tribes of the higher valleys of hunza and nagyr. large parties of fifty and a hundred were continually arriving during the winter at iskardo, and were as soon as possible despatched towards the disturbed country; but the greater number of them, i was told, managed to desert, and to return to their villages, or to hiding-places elsewhere, long before the detachment arrived at the end of its journey. crossing the indus in the ferry-boat, a little below the rock of iskardo, my road lay along the north bank of the river, through extensive tracts of cultivation. there was much less snow on the surface of the fields in the village of koardu, the first through which i passed on the north bank, than in the town of iskardo, owing to the more favourable exposure. the villagers were busy sprinkling a thin layer of earth over the snow to hasten its melting. this village, which is about five miles distant from iskardo, is backed by very high masses of clay conglomerate and clay, forming very irregular, often precipitous banks, resting on the ancient rocks behind. from iskardo these beds are very conspicuous, but in the village itself only a very small portion can be seen at a time. [sidenote: kamar. _february, ._] west of koardu, a ridge of mica-slate, containing abundance of garnets, advances close to the river, which here runs on the northern side of the valley. the road up the valley skirts the base of this projecting spur, and then passes over level platforms for about four miles. the level tracts were still covered with snow, but in rocky places, and on all slopes facing the south, the ground was quite bare. four miles from koardu i passed the very large village of kamar, the fields rising in terraces one behind another on a steeply sloping platform, which skirts the plain for nearly two miles. behind the village, the same system of conglomerate and clay-beds, as at koardu, rises in steep banks. about a mile beyond kamar, which is the last village on the north side of the iskardo plain, the valley of the indus contracts very suddenly, the mountains closing in upon the river. the beds of lacustrine clay extend without any diminution to the end of the open valley, and are covered, when close to the mountains, by numerous boulders of all sizes, many of which are of great dimensions. the fine clay at the termination of the open plain appears to underlie a great mass of boulder conglomerate, which is continued into the narrow part of the river valley. [sidenote: entrance of rondu. _february, ._] where the river passes from the open plain into the narrow ravine, the inclination of its bed seems increased, and the rapidity of its motion becomes much greater. this result is quite in accordance with what has been observed in the nubra and khapalu plains. indeed, narrow valleys are so generally steeply sloping, and wide valleys so generally nearly level, that it can scarcely be doubted that the inclination of the surface is in some way connected with the width or amount of excavation of the valley. for a mile or two beyond the end of the iskardo plain, the mountains are sufficiently far apart to allow of the interposition of a narrow platform of conglomerate, over which the road runs. soon, however, even this disappears, and thenceforward, as far as i went, the indus runs through a narrow ravine of very uniform character. the mountains on both sides of the river are extremely steep, and, so far as i could judge at so early a season, almost uniformly rocky and precipitous. at distant intervals a small platform of alluvium is interposed between the cliffs and the river, but much more frequently precipices directly overhang the stream, or steep bare rocks, only not absolutely precipitous, rise from its margin. it is but seldom that the stony bed of the river or the alluvial platforms overhanging it, afford a level road for a few hundred yards at a time. in general the path continually ascends and descends over each successive ridge; the elevation to which it is required to ascend to find a practicable passage, varying from a few hundred to several thousand feet above the bottom of the valley. in at least eight or ten places between iskardo and rondu, the path ascends or descends by means of ladders placed against the face of a perpendicular wall of rock, or crosses fissures in the cliffs by planks laid horizontally over them. this road is therefore quite impracticable for beasts of burden or horses, and is never used except in winter, when no other route is open to the traveller. [sidenote: indus valley. _february, ._] as the road lies altogether on the north or right bank of the indus, the elevation and appearance of the mountains on that side cannot well be seen. this range separates the indus valley from that of shigar, which is in no part of rondu more than twenty-five miles distant, and is crossed in several places by passes at the head of the larger ravines. these passes being still blocked up with snow, i could not cross them, nor ascertain their elevation, which is perhaps nowhere less than fourteen or fifteen thousand feet, except at the very eastern extremity of the ridge. from the higher parts of the road, where it attained an elevation of eight and nine thousand feet, the mountain ranges on the south of the indus could be well seen. they were covered with snow from base to summit, and in general rose so very abruptly, that the nearer spurs completely concealed from view the main range, except when a more open valley than usual permitted the view to extend backwards. occasionally very lofty peaks were seen, which appeared to attain a height of at least eighteen or twenty thousand feet; but, as the whole landscape was covered with snow, distances could not be estimated with any accuracy. as the ridge to the south of the indus keeps very close to the river, it is probable that the highest summits seen in that direction were situated beyond the valley of hasora. [sidenote: villages of rondu. _february, ._] the villages of rondu are not numerous, and are of very small extent; still every available spot seems to be occupied by a small patch of cultivation. the platforms are generally high above the river. in the lower part of the district, where the lateral ravines are of greater length, they open out above the very steep slope, by which they debouche into the indus, into gently sloping open valleys. the villages of thawar and murdu, being situated in these open valleys, are much more extensive than any of those close to the indus. the fort of rondu is on the left bank of the river, on a platform perhaps two hundred feet above its level, nearly opposite the end of the thawar valley, and not far from the termination of a valley which descends from the southern mountains, along which there is a road across a pass to hasora. from iskardo to thawar, a large village in a lateral ravine on the north side of the indus, almost opposite to the fort of rondu, the road distance is about forty miles. as five days were employed in traversing this distance, the average day's journey was only eight miles; and yet, from the difficult nature of the road, all the marches appeared long, and were felt to be very fatiguing. a great part of the road being at an elevation much more considerable than that the iskardo plain, i met with much snow on all the higher parts of the mountains. in the valley of the indus thaw made rapid progress, and by the beginning of march, in favourable exposures, there was no snow below feet. [sidenote: avalanches. _march, ._] the progress of the thaw occasioned constant avalanches, the snow slipping from the steep sides of the ravines, and when once in motion, advancing with constantly increasing momentum till it reached the lowest level. all day long the mountains echoed with the sound of falling snow; the avalanches were not often visible, as they took place in the ravines, but now and then (where the ravines terminated in precipices) they were seen pouring in cataracts of snow over the face of the cliffs. in each large ravine which joined the indus i found one of these gigantic avalanches, and was enabled to see that they were composed of a congeries of balls of snow, varying in diameter from one to six feet, and often containing fragments of rock in their centre. many of these snow-streams were not less than forty or fifty feet thick. at the level of the indus they were now very soft, and evidently thawing rapidly. in many parts of rondu are to be seen very distinct indications of the boulder conglomerate, by which the ravine was _perhaps_ at one period entirely filled; though from the very steep slopes of the mountains in most places, there is not often a resting-place for it. the platforms on which the villages are built are all formed of this alluvium, and are often covered with transported blocks of vast size. between siri and baicha i saw several which were not less than sixty feet in length. in the upper part of the valley of thawar, which is more level than the ravines higher up the indus, a great accumulation of clay and boulders is seen attaining a height of at least feet above the level of the sea, as it forms hills a thousand feet above the village, which is at least as much above the indus. the valley in which the village of thawar is situated slopes gently towards the indus till near its termination, when it descends extremely abruptly down a very steep inclined bank of boulders, which appears to block up the whole of the end of the valley. the slope of this steep bank was so great that it was only possible to descend by a very devious route. between the lower part of the cultivation and the commencement of the steep slope, the valley was very irregular, and filled with heaps of boulders, forming long low hills. the appearance of the mass of debris in this valley was very remarkable, and had much the appearance of an old moraine deposited by a glacier, which had extended as far as the end of the present cultivation, and had shot forward the boulders by which it had been covered into the abyss below. [sidenote: bridge of rondu. _march, ._] the indus is crossed by a swing-bridge of willow twigs, which leads from the villages on the north bank to the fort of rondu. from thawar i descended to this bridge, in order to ascertain the boiling-point of water, so as to get an approximation to the elevation of the bed of the river. it is thrown across a remarkably contracted part of the river, where it flows between perpendicular rocks rising several hundred feet out of the water, and the path by which the bridge is reached from thawar descends the scarped face of the precipice by a succession of ladders. from the boiling-point of water i estimated the elevation of the bridge, which was more than a hundred feet above the river, at feet. this would indicate a fall of about feet since leaving iskardo, or, as the river flows very tranquilly till it leaves the iskardo plain, from the commencement of rondu, a distance by the road of twenty-nine miles, but not, i should think, more than twenty along the course of the river, as the road winds very much in crossing ridges. this is equivalent to a fall of about fifty feet per mile, which, for a stream discharging so vast a volume of water, is very considerable indeed, but not more than is indicated by the general turbulent course of the river. [sidenote: cultivated trees. _march, ._] the villages of rondu, though mostly small, have abundance of fruit-trees. the apricot is still the commonest of these; but there are also many fine walnuts, and plenty of vines climbing up the trees, and remarkable for the great size of their trunks. willows are very common, and two kinds of poplar, and now and then there occurs a plane-tree of enormous girth and stature, which must, no doubt, afford a most welcome shade from the rays of the too-powerful sun of summer, the heat of which, in so deep and rocky a ravine, must be very oppressive. the willow and poplar had already begun to show signs of vitality, the flower-buds being almost ready to expand; the other trees seemed still quite inert. all over the hills of rondu the juniper[ ] is rather common, and seemingly quite at home both on the higher ridges, and in the bottom of the ravine close to the river. it forms generally a low bush, but occasionally i saw small trees, and once, in a level tract close to the river and near a village, a considerable tree perhaps forty feet high. the young plants had made considerable shoots, and were covered with longish acicular patent leaves, very different from the short adpressed scaly leaves of the adult plant. [sidenote: pine trees. _march, ._] rondu is remarkable for producing another coniferous tree, indeed a true pine, namely, _pinus excelsa_, which occurs in small groves in several places on the south side of the river, at elevations from eight to ten thousand feet above the sea. it was first observed opposite the village of siri, but is more plentiful above the fort of rondu. one or two trees occur close to the river, and on the north side, so that i was enabled to get specimens and ascertain the species. the occurrence of this tree must be considered to indicate a greater degree of humidity than exists in the upper parts of the indus valley, so that rondu is the place of transition between the tibetan climate and that of the eastern punjab, into which the indus passes at its point of exit from the mountains. the mountains of rondu contain much granite, which occurs in great mass at the bridge opposite the fort. in this place the granite occupies the lower part of the ravine, close to the river, while the higher parts of the mountains are composed of gneiss or clay-slate, sometimes passing into sandstone, or of a highly crystalline magnesian rock. the granite consists chiefly of quartz and mica, the former, as well as the felspar, white, the mica black and highly crystalline. the stratified rocks are always highly metamorphic, and are shattered and dislocated by the intrusion of the granite to a very great extent. [sidenote: lower part of rondu. _march, ._] below thawar and the fort of rondu, the valley of the indus continues extremely narrow and difficult, and ceases to be inhabited at the village and fortified post of tok, at which place a few soldiers are stationed, to keep up the communication with gilgit, and to give notice of any incursions from that side. thence, as far as the mountain range which bounds the gilgit valley on the east, the valley is said to be quite desert. the disturbed state of gilgit had made me abandon my original intention of continuing my journey in that direction; i therefore made only one march to the westward of thawar, and found the ravine, along which the river flowed, so barren and uninteresting, that i did not consider it necessary to visit tok, but retraced my steps towards iskardo, which i reached on the th of march. [sidenote: vegetation of rondu. _march, ._] i should have been glad to have had an opportunity of observing the nature of the vegetation of the valley of rondu, but the season of the year was unfortunately not favourable for that purpose. the cultivated plants were not different from those of iskardo, and much of the shrubby vegetation was the same as that common higher up the indus. an ash, of which the flowers were just expanded, but which was still quite leafless, appeared a novelty; but it was probably the same species which i had already collected in kunawar and piti. the only subtropical plants of which i saw any traces, were _linaria_ _ramosissima_, a shrubby _plectranthus_, now leafless, but which i guessed to be _p. rugosus_, and some withered stems of tall reedy grasses, species of _saccharum_ and _erianthus_. in summer, no doubt, many more would have occurred, and a complete list of the plants of rondu would be of very great interest, as illustrative of the connection between the alpine flora of ladak, which passes into that of siberia, and the vegetation of the mountains of affghanistan, the plants of which are in a great measure the same as those of persia and asia minor. there is also a transition through this country, down the valley of the indus, to a third flora, that of the hot dry plains of the punjab and of sind, which extends with little variation along the littoral districts of beluchistan and persia, into arabia and egypt. on my return to iskardo, i found the plain almost free from snow, a little only remaining on banks facing the north. the mountains on the south side of the valley were, however, still snow-clad to the very base, and the fruit-trees had scarcely begun to show any signs of vegetation. along the watercourses there was more appearance of spring; a little gentian and _hutchinsia_ were already in flower, and most of the spring plants had begun to grow rapidly. [sidenote: agricultural operations. _march, ._] the return of spring set the whole population of the district to work in their fields; and both in rondu and in the neighbourhood of iskardo, i had an opportunity of seeing the mode in which the processes of agriculture are carried on. as soon as the ground is clear of snow, the manure, which has been accumulated during the preceding year, consisting of the contents of the cowhouse and stable, mixed with every sort of refuse, is carried in small baskets to the fields, on which it is deposited in small heaps. it is then spread uniformly over the surface by hand. occasionally the field has had a previous ploughing, but it is more usually just in the state in which it had been left after the harvesting of the previous crop. after the manure has been spread, it is ploughed into the land. the plough is usually drawn by a pair of bullocks, and is formed entirely of wood, the front part being blunted and hollow. the ploughshare, a sharp and hard piece of wood, is passed through the hollow, beyond which it projects several inches. this moveable piece of wood does the principal work, and is easily replaced when it has sustained injury. after the ploughing, the seed is sown broadcast, and the field is then harrowed. the harrow is a frame-work of wood, weighted with stones, but without spikes; or a heavy board, weighted; or occasionally only a thorny bush, with several large stones laid upon it. it is generally drawn by one man, who assists its action by breaking with his feet the clods which would otherwise be too bulky to be crushed by it. the harrowing is repeated till the soil is reduced to a sufficient fineness, an operation which is much facilitated by the dryness of the atmosphere. the field is then laid out into small square beds, for convenience of irrigation, and water is supplied to it at intervals throughout the summer. about the middle of march, an assembly of all the principal inhabitants of the district took place at iskardo, on some occasion of ceremony or festivity, the nature of which i have forgotten. i was thus fortunate enough to be a witness of the national game of the chaugan, which is derived from persia, and has been described by mr. vigne as hockey on horseback, a definition so exact, as to render a further detail unnecessary. large quadrangular enclosed meadows for this game may be seen in all the larger villages of balti, often surrounded by rows of beautiful willow and poplar trees. [sidenote: chakor hunting. _march, ._] about the same time, i was invited by the thannadar of iskardo to be present at a hunting party, which he had arranged for the capture of the _chakor_, or painted partridge, by surrounding a spot of ground, in which these birds are numerous, with a ring of men, who, approaching from all directions, gradually form a dense circle of perhaps a hundred yards in diameter. when the partridges are disturbed by a horseman in this enclosure, they naturally fly towards the living wall by which they are surrounded. loud shouts, and the beating of drums and waving of caps and cloaks, turn them back, and they are driven from side to side, till at last, exhausted with fatigue, and stupid from the noise and confusion, they sink to the ground, and allow themselves to be caught by hand. the scene was a very striking one. the spot selected was a deep dell, full of rocks, but without trees. the sport, however, did not seem so successful as usual, six or eight birds only being captured. the chakor is an extremely common bird in all parts of the valley of the indus, and indeed throughout tibet. in winter, when the hills are covered with snow, they are to be found in great numbers close to the river, even in the immediate neighbourhood of the villages; and in general, when approached, they lie very close among the crevices of the stones. [sidenote: shigar valley. _march, ._] before finally leaving iskardo, i devoted three days to a visit to the valley of shigar, which is watered by a very large tributary which joins the indus opposite the rock of iskardo. the terminal ridges of the mountain ranges on both sides of the shigar river, advance close to the centre of the valley where the stream enters the indus. the road to shigar from iskardo, therefore, crosses low hills of dark schistose rocks, winding among dry valleys which are occupied by great masses of alluvium. a coarse sandstone, horizontally stratified, formed beds of fifty feet thick, alternating with and capped by beds of clay conglomerate containing numerous angular fragments. the sandstone was very similar to that which i had previously seen on the top of the rock of iskardo, and rested upon thinner strata of a bluish-grey indurated clay, quite non-fossiliferous, and different in appearance from any deposit which i had seen in tibet. these lacustrine strata occupied both sides of the valley along which the road lay. from the summit of the low range of hills, the road descended rapidly to the level of the cultivation of the shigar plain. the shigar river flows through a wide gravelly channel in many branches; and low, grassy, and swampy tracts skirt the stream. fifty feet above these are the platforms of alluvium, which extend along the left bank of the river uninterruptedly for five or six miles, and vary in width from a quarter of a mile to a mile or more. they are almost entirely covered with arable land, formed into terraces which rise gradually one above another, and a succession of small villages are scattered among the fields. numerous little streams descend from the mountains, and irrigation canals ramify in every direction. ploughing was the universal occupation of the villagers; and the yellow flowers of _tussilago farfara_ were everywhere seen expanding on the clayey banks of the rivulets. the fort of shigar is close to the mountains on the east side of the valley, where a considerable stream makes its exit from them. by this stream, mr. vigne ascended to a pass on the high range to the eastward, and descended upon the shayuk at the village of braghar. where it terminates in the shigar plain, this valley is for a few hundred yards very narrow; but a little above its entrance it widens considerably, and the flanks of the mountains are covered with a great accumulation of the alluvial deposits, clinging to the face of the rocks on both sides, certainly as high as a thousand feet above the stream. the beds were sometimes, but rarely, stratified, and were very variable in appearance. coarse conglomerates, at one time with angular boulders, at others, with rounded stones, alternated with coarse and fine sand and finely laminated clays. no fossils of any kind were observed. in summer, the discharge of the shigar river, which descends from the snowy masses of the muztagh or kouen-lun, must be immense, as prodigious glaciers descend very low among the valleys of its different branches. up one of the streams a practicable road exists towards yarkand over an enormous glacier. i met with one or two people at iskardo who had traversed it; but it is now not at all frequented, being very unsafe, in consequence of the marauding propensities of the wild mahommedan tribes who inhabited the hunza valley. it was described to me as an exceedingly difficult road, lying for several days over the surface of the glacier. [sidenote: departure from iskardo. _april, ._] on the st of march, i left iskardo for the last time. it was expected that the pass between dras and kashmir would be easily accessible by the time i should reach it. my road as far as dras was the same as that along which i had twice travelled in december, and, except from the indications of returning spring, was much the same as it had then been. the crops of wheat and barley in the fields in the iskardo plain were an inch or two high, the buds of the apricot were just beginning to swell, and the willows had almost expanded their flowers. at gol and nar, where the valley is narrow and the heat therefore more concentrated, the corn was considerably further advanced, and in some of the apricot flowers the petals had begun to expand. wild flowers had also begun to vegetate: a violet was in flower on the banks of streamlets, as well as a _primula_ and an _androsace_. above parkuta, again, the season was more backward. large snow-banks, which had descended in avalanches, still remained in all the larger furrows on the mountain-sides. the river had been discoloured since the day i left iskardo, and on the th of april, the day i reached kartash, it became very much so, and was said to be rising rapidly. [sidenote: valley of dras. _april, ._] on the th of april, i entered the dras valley, and encamped at ulding thung, where there were still a few patches of snow. on the th, i marched to hardas, ten miles. here, at about feet, spring had scarcely commenced. the fruit-trees showed no signs of vitality; and though the fields had been ploughed, the grain had not yet begun to vegetate. the valley of the dras river begins to expand at the village of bilergu, four or five miles above ulding. as soon as there is enough of level space, beds of conglomerate, and more rarely of fine clay, appear along the river. round the village of bilergu, the poplars, willows, and apricots are as numerous as in the valley of the indus; but beyond it, the inclination of the valley is considerable, and at hardas there were but few trees. above bilergu the quantity of snow increased considerably, and the contrast between the sides of the valley was very striking: at hardas, the shady slope was quite white, while that facing the south had only a few patches of snow. on the th of april, i marched to karbu, eight miles. as i advanced, i found much more snow; but the road was in general free, except in the ravines where snow-slips had descended. on the latter part of the day, these were universal in all the ravines, and were frequently of great depth, and so soft as to be difficult to cross: on the least deviation from the beaten path, i sank to the middle at every step. these avalanches were cut off abruptly by the river, forming cliffs of snow fifteen or twenty feet high, in which the structure and development of the mass by successive slips, alternating with falls of snow, could be distinctly made out. one or two of them still crossed the river, which flowed below the bridge of ice. three miles below karbu, the granite, which had been the rock ever since entering dras, was replaced by a peculiar slate, apparently magnesian, and perhaps hornblende slate, passing into or containing beds of a coarse sandstone. at karbu, where i was detained a day, the thannadar not having expected me so soon, and my porters not being ready, the weather was very unsettled, and in the evening, and during the nights of the th and th of april, there was a good deal of rain, especially on the th. the wind during the storm was very irregular in direction. the ground was still covered to the depth of more than a foot with snow. the morning of the th was gloomy, but as the day advanced the clouds broke, and the afternoon was bright and beautiful, with a gentle air down the valley. [sidenote: fort of dras. _april, ._] on the th of april i reached the fort of dras. for the last ten miles the snow lay continuously, and two or three feet deep, but there was always a clear path. the temperature being much above the freezing-point, the thaw proceeded rapidly. a good deal of _prangos_, which is evidently a common wild plant (as it is also in many parts of kashmir), was seen; the withered inflorescence projecting through the snow. i observed it also very abundantly in the hay, which is preserved in the villages, and seems to consist of all the plants of the meadows cut indiscriminately, and not of _prangos_ alone, as i had erroneously imagined. [sidenote: maten. _april, ._] my former journey having terminated at dras, the road in advance was new to me; but the whole country being still covered with snow, i could see little of the nature of the surface. the fort of dras is about , feet above the sea: it is situated in an open, nearly level plain of some width, skirted by low hills. the higher mountains, which are several miles distant on both sides, are very steep. several villages are scattered over the plain, at some distance from the fort, which stands alone, on the bank of a little stream, just before it joins the dras river. beyond dras, the road to the pass having scarcely been used, there was no beaten path. in the morning the snow was hard and firm, and even in the afternoon, notwithstanding the warmth of the midday sun, the foot did not sink more than three or four inches. the depth of snow increased rapidly as i advanced. two miles above the fort the plain contracts into a narrow valley, and the channel of the river becomes very rocky; the stream is also very rapid, and the slope of its bed evidently considerable. the valley again expands around the village of pain dras. immediately beyond this i crossed the river on a bridge of snow, at least forty feet thick, which covered the river for more than a hundred yards. this snow-bed, which was continuous with the general level of the surface, was to all appearance quite solid. after a march of ten miles i encamped at maten, the last village of dras, a small group of stone huts half a mile from the river on its eastern bank, and immediately at the base of a very steep scarped mountain, which rises in precipices several thousand feet above the village. maten i estimated, from the boiling-point of water, to be , feet above the sea. [sidenote: zoji pass. _april, ._] on the th of april i crossed the pass into kashmir, starting, as the distance was said to be considerable, at about half-past two o'clock in the morning. the evening before had been dull, with irregular squalls of wind, so that the weather did not promise very favourably. it was very dark and quite calm at two a.m., and when i started it snowed slightly, but not enough to induce me to stop, as i hoped it would cease with daylight. unfortunately, on the contrary, it increased rapidly, and by four o'clock was snowing heavily, and continued to do so till the afternoon. there was no wind, and the air was very mild, so that i suffered no inconvenience from cold. the surface of the snow, even in the morning, was a little soft, the cloudy night having prevented it from freezing. after four o'clock it snowed so heavily that the accumulation of fresh snow soon amounted to several feet, and we sank above the knee at every step. there was scarcely any slope, the road appearing quite horizontal. before daylight my guides managed to lose their way, and we wandered for more than half an hour puzzled by our own footsteps. the compass was of no use, as i did not know the direction in which we ought to proceed, nor was it till after dawn that we recovered the road. [sidenote: valley of the sind river. _april, ._] after daylight there was no improvement in any respect, as the heavy snow completely obscured the view. the leaders of the party, however, seemed to recognize the outlines of the hills, as they held their course without hesitation. the valley was quite full of snow, which completely covered all irregularities of surface. the river was often quite covered by the mass of snow for distances of more than a furlong without interruption. our path often crossed it; and, latterly, for several miles before gaining the crest of the pass, the stream was completely concealed. about noon the snow fell more lightly, and we could see around. the width of the valley was from half a mile to a mile, and steep mountains rose on both sides to a considerable height, the peaks being, i should think, at least , feet. patches of willow and juniper were seen on the sides of the hills. still the road was to appearance quite level. the valley made several bends, and we turned finally to the right, before gaining the crest of the pass, to which there was a barely perceptible rise. the descent was at first gradual, but soon became very steep, down a bank of snow, which filled the whole of a narrow ravine. the rocky walls on either side were at first bare, but soon became sprinkled with birch and pine. for two thousand feet below the summit of the pass the descent was uninterrupted, till i reached the banks of the sind river, which flows through the northernmost valley of kashmir, and is separated from the main valley by a lofty range of mountains. here, on a level space separated by a little stream from pine-forest, i found a log-hut buried up to the roof in snow, which was heaped up round the building, probably from having been thrown off the roof. the snow at baltal--for so this first halting-place on the kashmir side of the zoji pass is called--was not deep, probably little more than what had fallen during the day. [sidenote: detention at baltal. _april, ._] my whole party took possession of the log-hut; but not liking the smoke which, in an instant, filled it, so that there was no seeing across its width, i had a space cleared for my tent. it rained smartly in the evening, but soon after dark it again began to snow, and long before morning i was awoke by the cracking of the ridge-pole of my tent, which had given way under the pressure of a foot and a half of snow. had it fallen at once i should probably have been buried till morning, as i was too distant to make myself heard, and had to rise to summon assistance, to move my bed into the log-hut. all day on the th it snowed unceasingly, and my people would not continue the journey; but on the th it was fair, and i gladly made a move, as the log-hut of baltal was a most uncomfortable resting-place. the road lay along the sind river, which ran to the south-west, through a deep but rather open valley, only partially wooded. the forest consists partly of pines, partly of deciduous-leaved trees. of these i could recognize birch, poplar, and willow, which formed the mass of the woods, but there were no doubt many others. the pines were principally _pinus excelsa_; silver fir and spruce also occurred, but i saw no deodar nor gerard's pine. the trees grew in well defined masses of forest, separated by much open ground, in the level plain which skirted the river on the south side of the valley; on this side they also rose high on the mountains, but the slopes on the north side were bare. [sidenote: sonamarg. _april, ._] seven or eight miles from baltal, i found an uninhabited house, at a place called sonamarg[ ], where a bridge crosses the sind river. snow had been continuous all the way, diminishing in depth as we descended the river. a mile or two before reaching sonamarg, the stream approaches close to the mountains on the north side of the valley, barely leaving a passage for the road, which for some distance skirted the base of steep cliffs. in one of the ravines which here furrowed the mountain slopes, i had an opportunity of seeing the descent of an avalanche. while crossing the ravine i was warned by the sound that a snow-slip was approaching, but had abundance of time to retreat to a place of safety before it came near. when the avalanche came into sight, the ravine, which was narrow and deep, was completely filled by balls of snow of various dimensions, which continued to flow past for several minutes. the snow-slip terminated in the river, which was speedily blocked up for two-thirds of its width with an immense accumulation of snow. at sonamarg the sind river bends abruptly towards the south, and enters a rocky gorge, down which its stream advances with great rapidity, over a steeply inclined bed, very rocky and much interrupted by rapids. leaving sonamarg on the morning of the th of april, i crossed the river, and after a mile and a half of level ground bare of trees, still covered with snow, i entered a thin forest of pine and silver fir, which continued to the entrance of the gorge. the silver fir (_picea webbiana_) was a fine straight tree, with short horizontal or drooping branches, and its leaves were very variable in length. when i had fairly entered the narrow gorge of the river, i found that it was in many places still blocked up with snow, which had descended in avalanches down the narrow ravines, and had accumulated in the bed of the stream. we crossed the river three times on snow-beds. from the rapidity of the descent, however, the climate changed rapidly. after four or five miles there was no snow, except in ravines, where it had accumulated in avalanches, and at last even these had almost entirely melted away. still snow lay in patches on the right bank of the river, in the village of gagangir, at which i halted for the day; and on the left bank, which faced the north, and was therefore in shade, snow still covered the whole surface down to the bank of the river. [sidenote: gagangir. _april, ._] at the village of gagangir the sind river resumes its south-westerly direction, and its valley becomes more open, and the descent of its bed less abrupt. the elevation of the village is about feet above the level of the sea, so that the descent from sonamarg is probably not less than a thousand feet in a distance of nine miles--a very considerable fall. on the latter part of the day's journey, a very considerable change was observable in the aspect of the vegetation. birch and willow continued common throughout, but were mixed latterly with many other trees and shrubs, all of which were beginning to show symptoms of vitality. the hazel (_corylus lacera_) and a species of _viburnum_ were in full flower, both still devoid of leaves; a few herbaceous plants were also in flower in open places, the most abundant of which were a species of _colchicum_, remarkable for its bright orange-coloured flowers, and a pretty little rose-purple _corydalis_, very closely allied to, if not the same as, a species of eastern europe. still the general aspect of the country was very wintry, as there were few pines, and the forest was therefore quite bare of leaves, while the signs of progress, though evident on a near inspection, did not attract attention in the general view. [sidenote: sind valley. _april, ._] at gagangir, which is the first village of kashmir by the route along which i was travelling, i was enabled to relieve my dras porters, who had accompanied me so far. the discharge and payment of these men occupied me a great part of the th of april; and as the day was rainy i did not leave gagangir till the th, when i marched to gond, seven miles. the road still followed the course of the sind river, which i crossed twice during the day. the width of the valley was considerable all along, with much arable land, and a good many villages in ruins on both sides. the mountains on the right hand were uniformly bare of trees, and often rocky; on the left they were well wooded to the summit, the forest being most dense above. early in the day several of the ravines were still full of snow; and on the shady side a good deal lay in patches. further on, the snow in the valley had quite disappeared, but on the mountain slopes there was still plenty. as i advanced the cultivated land increased in extent, and the appearance of the valley became exceedingly picturesque, the centre being occupied by a broad belt of fields and orchards, while the hills on both sides rose abruptly to a great elevation. the fruit-trees were principally walnuts, apples, and apricots. groves of poplar occurred occasionally along the river, but i saw no birch during the day. many more spring plants were in flower than on the previous day; _cruciferæ_ were the prevailing family, but i also collected species of _nepeta_ and _gagea_, and a pretty little tulip. on the latter part of the march, a small shrubby species of _amygdalus_ was very abundant; and _fothergilla involucrata_ of falconer, a plant of the natural order _hamamelideæ_, which was just bursting into flower, formed a dense coppice on the hills on the north bank of the river. though the greater part of the plants was new to me, still i recognized a number of species which occur in the valley of the indus. _juniperus excelsa_ was common in rocky places, and the _ribes_ and rose were the same as those common at iskardo. [sidenote: vegetation. _april, ._] on the th, the road still followed the course of the sind river, now a rapid torrent, much swollen by the heavy rains, flowing through an open valley. a good deal of level ground was interposed between the mountains and the stream, and was laid out in terraced fields evidently adapted for rice cultivation, but now quite bare. i met with many very interesting plants. _tussilago farfara_ was abundant, growing in gravelly places along the river. in shady woods a species of _hepatica_, with a small white flower, first discovered by dr. falconer, was common. in more sunny places a _primula_ and _androsace_ were in full flower. on open sandy soil a species of the curious siberian genus _ceratocephalus_ was a very striking novelty. on the higher hills there was still dense forest of _pinus excelsa_, spruce, silver fir, and deodar, mixed with yew and _juniperus excelsa_, and with many deciduous-leaved trees, few of which were recognizable. after travelling twelve miles i encamped at gangan, which is elevated about feet. next day i remained stationary; but on the st i continued my journey to ganderbal, nine miles further and close to the point where the sind valley expands into the open plain of kashmir. as i advanced, the valley gradually widened, and turned more to the south. there were several platforms, or steppes, as it were, of nearly level arable land, one above another, and below them the river flowed through a wide stony plain. the mountains on the right, high and snow-topped, receded to a considerable distance; those on the left gradually diminished in elevation, became less covered with forest, and at last terminated in low ranges of hills covered only with brush-wood. the road was extremely pretty. at first it lay along the right bank of the river, through fine underwood, and among beautiful meadows, which skirted the bank of the stream; it then crossed to the left bank, and, ascending the lower hills, entered a fine wood, in which apricot, pear, and cherry trees, all bursting into flower, were common, and to all appearance wild, though they had probably spread into these woods from the neighbouring villages. latterly we emerged upon a somewhat elevated platform sloping to the south, covered with bushes and many fruit-trees, with here and there a village, and a great deal of cultivated ground. where the sind valley joined the plain of kashmir, it was several miles in width, and evidently richly cultivated. the expanse of the plain of kashmir was much greater than i had anticipated; the mountains on its south side, which were still covered with snow, were in sight, but at a considerable distance. above gond the valley of the sind river is very poorly inhabited, and deserted villages and abandoned cultivation showed that the population is diminishing. the lower part of the valley, however, is very populous. the villages are numerous and large, and the houses good: they are usually built entirely or partially of wood, with high sloping roofs, which are either thatched or covered with wood. the cultivated lands all rest upon platforms or banks of alluvium, which are probably analogous to those of the tibetan valleys, though, as they are generally faced by sloping banks covered with bush-jungle, their structure is not so easily determined as that of the platforms of that more barren country. [sidenote: plain of kashmir. _april, ._] on the morning of the nd of april, after following the base of the low hills for half a mile, till the last projecting point had been rounded, i entered the valley of kashmir. this "celebrated valley" did not at all come up to the expectations which i had formed from previous descriptions, and from the appearance of the termination of the valley of the sind river. the first impression was one of considerable disappointment. it was by no means well wooded, and the centre of the valley along the river, being very low, had an unpleasant swampy appearance. the road to the town, which is about ten miles from ganderbal, led over an elevated platform. there were several villages, and plane, willow, and fruit trees were scattered here and there, though far from abundantly. the platform was in general covered with a carpet of green, now spangled with myriads of dandelions and other spring flowers. the mountains on the left, which at first were very low, gradually rose in elevation, and were throughout rugged and bare. as i approached the town i mounted an elephant, which formed a part of the _cortège_ sent, according to the usual oriental etiquette, to receive an expected visitor; and i consequently saw the town to much better advantage than i should have done had i ridden through it on my little ladak pony. passing completely through the city, i was conducted to the sheikh bagh, a garden on the banks of the jelam, at its eastern extremity, in a pavilion in the centre of which i took up my quarters. [sidenote: city of kashmir. _april, ._] the town of kashmir is apparently of great extent, and seems very densely populated. its length is much greater than its width, as it is hemmed in between the jelam on the south and a lake on the north. the principal part of the town is on the north side of the jelam, but a large suburb occupies the opposite bank, surrounding the sher-garhi, or fortified palace of the ruler of the country. the streets are in general so narrow, that there are but few through which an elephant can pass; and the houses, which have mostly several stories, are built with a wooden frame-work, the lower story of stone and those above of brick. there are no buildings of any great note; and the elaborate account of moorcroft renders it unnecessary to enter into any detail. the river is crossed by many bridges, all built of deodar-wood. [sidenote: plain of kashmir. _april, ._] the province or country of kashmir consists of an extensive plain, surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains. it is the valley of the river behat, or jelam, which is separated from that of the chenab on the south, by rugged and often snowy ranges, and from the basin of the indus on the north, by the main axis of the western himalaya, which, originating in the peaks of kailas, separates the basins of the sutlej and the chenab from that of the indus. the mountains which surround the plain of kashmir are very lofty. those on the north are for the most part bare and rugged on their southern face, while those which lie to the south appear from the plain to be magnificently wooded with forests of pines and deciduous-leaved trees, descending almost to their base. on both sides of the valley the mountains rise above the level of perpetual snow, but those on the north side are considerably more lofty than the others. numerous transverse valleys penetrate into these mountains, which are well cultivated in their lower parts, and, higher up, present superb mountain scenery. on the south side of the valley, many passes, varying in elevation from , to , feet, lead across the main chain to the chenab valley and the plains of india. to the north there are only two frequented routes, that by the garys pass towards hasora and deotsu, and that by the valley of the sind river towards dras. at the eastern end of the valley a high pass leads across the mountains to the valley of wardwan, from which travellers can reach kargil and the indus on the left, and kishtwar in the valley of the chenab on the right. the flat country or alluvial plain of kashmir, which is feet above the sea, is about fifty miles in length, and not more than ten or twelve miles wide. it commences close to islamabad, where the last spurs of the mountains at the east end of the valley disappear; and terminates at baramula, where the ranges, branches of the opposite mountain chains, again advance close to the bank of the river. it is traversed in its whole length by the river jelam, which rises at the east end of the valley, and winds from one side of the plain to the other, at one time washing the base of the northern hills, at another receding to a considerable distance from them. the jelam flows with a tranquil stream, and, being navigable throughout the whole of the level country as far up as islamabad, for boats of considerable burden, is the great highway for the traffic of the country, in which, notwithstanding its being perfectly level, wheel-carriages are unknown. at islamabad it is a very small stream, but it gradually enlarges, by additions from both sides, as it descends. near the town of kashmir it is from fifty to a hundred yards wide, often very deep, and in few places fordable, even at the driest season. [sidenote: lacustrine strata. _april, ._] the plain of kashmir has evidently at one time been the bed of a lake, a deposit of fine clayey and sandy strata, more rarely partially indurated into a soft sandstone rock, occupying a great part of the surface. soft pebbly conglomerate is also occasionally met with, and an indurated conglomerate, containing water-worn pebbles, occurs in many places in the lower course of the sind river. this lacustrine formation forms elevated platforms, which are from fifty to one hundred and fifty feet or more above the level of the river. in many places, both on the jelam and along the lateral streams which descend from the mountains to join it, the beds of clay have been removed by aqueous action. in such places the plain has a lower level, often very little above the surface of the river, and is covered with rice-fields or with marshy lands, undrained and not under cultivation. [sidenote: lake of kashmir. _april, ._] the platforms of lacustrine clay are called, in kashmir, "_karewah_." they are often quite dry, and generally uncultivated, but where water is procurable they are highly cultivated, yielding luxuriant crops of wheat and barley. a proper application of artificial irrigation would, i believe, make the whole of these more elevated parts of the plain fertile, as the soil is everywhere well adapted for the growth of corn. these karewahs generally run parallel to the lateral streams which join the jelam, and extend from the base of the mountains till they are cut off by the river. there are, however, in the upper part of the valley, several isolated patches, all horizontally stratified, from which i infer that they had originally been continuous. one of these, near bijbeara, forms a table-topped hill of considerable extent, surrounded on all sides by low land. several low hills near islamabad, also, are evidently outlying patches of the same formation. the sands and sandy clays of these platforms are usually quite non-fossiliferous; but i determined the lacustrine nature of the strata by finding, on the flanks of takht-i-suleiman, a hill near the town of kashmir, and close to the city lake, but at least thirty feet above its level, a bed of clay, which contained, abundantly, shells of the genera _lymnæa_ and _paludina_. the main chain of the himalaya, north of kashmir, consists, where i crossed it, by the zoji pass north of baltal, of metamorphic schist; and all its branches, which descend towards the plain of kashmir, seem to be formed of the same rock. along the north side of the valley, however, a series of hills of trap rise, almost isolated, out of the plain. ahathung, near the wulur lake, is, i believe, the most westerly of these, but i did not visit it, and only infer its structure from its conical shape and from its similarity in appearance to those further east. near the town of kashmir there are two of these isolated hills, composed of an amygdaloidal trap: these are hari-parbat, which is fortified, and takht-i-suleiman, which rises about eight hundred feet above the plain. the former lies to the north-west, and the latter on the north-east side of the town. the lake or _dal_ of kashmir lies to the north of the town, stretching from the base of these two hills to the more lofty mountain range which bounds the valley on the north. it is nearly circular and four or five miles in diameter, but is only open in its northern half, the end nearest the town being occupied by large islands, with narrow channels between them, in some of which there is a good deal of current. its waters are discharged into the jelam by a considerable stream, which, flowing from its south-east corner, runs to the westward in a course nearly parallel to the southern margin of the lake for nearly a mile, when it turns abruptly south to enter the jelam in the middle of the town of kashmir. this stream is evidently an artificial canal, and the embankment by which it is separated from the lake appears to have been constructed in order to keep the surface of the latter higher than it would naturally be. the stream at its point of exit from the lake flows through a narrow canal of masonry, and has, when the jelam is low, a fall of several feet. a pair of flood-gates prevent the return of the stream in times of flood, when the waters of the river are higher than those of the lake. the wulur lake, below the junction of the sind river with the jelam, appears to be similar in appearance to that close to the town, and, like it, to owe its extent in part to artificial means. its dimensions are, however, much greater. there are several large marshy tracts in different parts of the plain, which, by a little engineering, might also be converted into lakes: one in particular, near avantipura, is quite under water in spring, though in summer and autumn it is only a swamp. [sidenote: climate of kashmir. _april, ._] the climate of kashmir is the same as that of the interior valleys of the himalaya, but modified by its extreme western position, which brings it within the influence of the spring rains which prevail in affghanistan and the countries on the lower mountain course of the indus. there are at least four months of winter; and in general a good deal of snow falls. march and april are very rainy; the summer months mostly dry and fine. the periodical rains of india cannot be said to extend into kashmir; but in july and august showers and thunder-storms are said to be frequent. the spring and autumn are unhealthy seasons. in the former, the cold rainy weather affects those who have already suffered from the malaria produced by the action of a powerful sun on neglected swamps. the abandonment of cultivation, in consequence of the long oppression of the country under a foreign government, has been the cause of the increase of marshy ground. the river in seasons of flood rises higher than the level of the lowest portion of the alluvial land, and is only excluded (as in holland) by means of artificial works along the course of the river. by the omission to repair these _bunds_, or dykes, a large extent of country which might be under cultivation is left in a state of swamp. [sidenote: vegetation of kashmir. _april, ._] there is no natural forest on any part of the open plain of kashmir, and the cultivated trees are not numerous; the plane, poplar, and willow are all common, with numerous fruit-trees, chiefly walnuts, apples, apricots, cherries, and quinces. a mulberry is also common, the dried specimens of which are in no way distinguishable from those of the common white mulberry of europe, with which i have compared it. the vines are trained up the poplar-trees, rising to their very tops, and hanging down from their summits. a species of _celtis_, which is commonly planted around the town, is, i think, the most tropical of all the kashmirian trees, being common in the warmer valleys of the outer himalayas; it is, however, i think, _celtis australis_, l., a species which is a native of western asia and eastern europe, and appears to find its eastern limit in the himalaya. at the time of my arrival in kashmir, the fruit-trees were in full blossom; the wild vegetation had, however, made very little progress, only the earliest plants being in flower. the spring flora was eminently european in character; not only the genera, but many of the species, being identical with those of our own island. _cruciferæ_ were the most abundant natural order; and, among many others, i collected _draba verna_, _capsella_, _erysimum_, _alliaria_, _turritis glabra_, and european species of _lepidium_, _thlaspi_, _alyssum_, and _sisymbrium_. other common forms were _lycopsis arvensis_, _lithospermum arvense_, _myosotis collina_, _scandix pecten_, _ranunculus philonotis_, _anagallis arvensis_, _euphorbia helioscopia_, and several species of _veronica_. none of the annual plants were indian forms, though a few of them were such as occur commonly in the plains in the cold season. the shrubby vegetation was very limited: a juniper (_j. communis_), a _cotoneaster_, _rubus_, _rosa webbiana_, _zizyphus_, _elæagnus_, _daphne_, and two species of _berberis_, were the most common. a few straggling trees of _pinus excelsa_, which grew on the northern face of the low hill called solomon's throne, were the only pines which i saw in any part of the open valley. footnotes: [ ] this juniper has a very extended range in altitude, being common in the drier parts of the himalaya at elevations of - , feet, and in some parts of tibet, where it meets with a higher summer temperature, even as high as - , feet. it is the _juniperus excelsa_ of wallich, and, so far as the point can be decided by dried specimens, seems identical with specimens in the hookerian herbarium, collected in karabagh and sakitschiwan by szowitz, and communicated to sir w. j. hooker by fischer. the taurian specimens of _j. excelsa_ from bieberstein are, however, a good deal different, and are perhaps only a form of _j. sabina_. [ ] in moorcroft's time, this place was a small village. chapter x. environs of kashmir -- city lake -- gardens of shalimar and dilawer khan -- pampur -- avantipura -- platforms of lacustrine clay -- mountain of wasterwan -- ancient city -- clay, with shells and fragments of pottery -- ancient temple imbedded in clay -- lakes caused by subsidence -- islamabad -- shahabad -- vegetation -- vernag -- banahal pass -- valley of banahal -- tropical vegetation -- pass above chenab valley -- nasmon -- _jhula_, or swing-bridge -- balota -- ladhe ke dhar -- katti -- fort of landar -- mir -- kirmichi -- tertiary sandstones -- dhuns -- seda -- jamu. during my stay in kashmir, besides the necessary ceremonial of complimentary visits, my chief occupation was visiting the principal places in the vicinity. from my residence in the sheikh bagh i had easy access to the river, as well as to the canal by which it communicates with the lake. a broad road, three-quarters of a mile in length, shaded on both sides by very fine poplar-trees, runs from the eastern end of the town, parallel to this canal, as far as the hill called the takht, at the foot of which is situated the passage by which the lake discharges its waters into the canal. the weather was very favourable, the spring rains having terminated a day or two before my arrival. the kashmiris are accomplished boatmen, a great part of the population living upon the water; and as most of the conspicuous objects around the town are only accessible by water, i gave pretty constant employment to a boat's crew whom i hired during my stay. [sidenote: lake of kashmir. _april, ._] my first visit was to the lake, and to the celebrated gardens on its northern shore, which were the delight of the emperors who made kashmir their retreat from the heat and cares of delhi and lahore. the southern part of the lake is very shallow, and i sailed along narrow channels, which separated large patches of tall reeds, among which a very narrow-leaved _typha_ and an _arundo_ were the commonest plants. three or four species of _potamogeton_ were abundant in the lake, just coming into flower, but most of the water-plants were only beginning to vegetate. i saw three or four flowers of a water-lily (_nymphæa alba_), and could just recognize _villarsia nymphæoides_, _menyanthes trifoliata_, and _trapa_, all of which had been recorded by previous travellers as natives of kashmir. i looked anxiously for _nelumbium_, but saw no signs of it, except the withered capsules of the previous year, many of which i observed floating on the lake. [sidenote: gardens of kashmir. _april, ._] the gardens of shalimar and of dilawer khan rise in a succession of terraces from the margin of the lake. they are laid out in a stiff formal style, straight walks crossing one another at right angles, and are irrigated by means of straight water-courses, branching from a long canal which passes down the centre, through a succession of ponds well built in masonry, and provided with artificial fountains, which are made to play on festivals and holidays. pavilions of fine marble occupy the intersections of the principal walks. magnificent plane-trees form the chief ornament of these gardens, which are now much neglected; straggling bushes and a wilderness of weeds occupying all the less conspicuous parts, while the main avenues alone are kept a little neat. although the chief beauty of the valley of kashmir is undoubtedly the magnificent girdle of snowy mountains by which it is surrounded, the orchards and gardens, which are still numerous in the neighbourhood of the capital, are charming spots, and the more so from the contrast which they present with the barrenness of the surrounding country, and the absolute ugliness of the swamps in the centre of the valley. nor should it be forgotten, when we compare the accounts given by early travellers with the impressions made upon us by the present appearance of the valley, that kashmir is no longer in the same state as it was in the days of the emperors; a long continuance of misrule, under a succession of governors, whose only interest it has been to extract as much revenue as possible from the unfortunate inhabitants, having produced the only conceivable result, in abandoned cultivation, a diminished revenue, and an impoverished people. on the nd of may i left the town of kashmir, taking the route by the banahal pass, towards jamu and the plains of india. as my road lay for several days' journey along the course of the jelam (or behat, as it is always called in kashmir), i engaged boats for the transport of my servants and baggage as far as islamabad, travelling myself, however, generally by land and on foot, in order to see the country. my first halting-place was pampur, seven miles from the town of kashmir. after traversing the magnificent avenue of poplars, which runs north-west from the town, the road winds round the base of the takht, the eastern face of which is only separated from the jelam by a low swampy tract, a few hundred yards in breadth. east of the takht a succession of rugged trap hills skirt the road, but beyond these the more distant mountains are evidently stratified. the road was grassy and quite level, and passed through much cultivation, the young wheat and barley being dripping with a heavy dew which had fallen during the night. a scarlet poppy and _adonis_ were common weeds among the corn. [sidenote: avantipura. _may, ._] next day i travelled to avantipura, seven miles further. the lacustrine formations, which had made their appearance on the bank of the river a little west of pampur, continued to occur more or less constantly as we proceeded eastward, and the road traversed for some miles an elevated plain, quite bare of trees, and only partially cultivated, while the remainder was covered with grass. the surface of this plain was eroded by wide transverse valleys, formed by little streams which ran towards the jelam: these were flat, and well cultivated, some of the wheat being already in ear. on the highest parts of the platform the cultivation of saffron is carried on, in beds four or five feet square, separated by deep ditches or furrows from one another. the plant, which flowers in autumn, was now in full leaf. [sidenote: ascent of wasterwan. _may, ._] behind avantipura lies a high mountain, called wasterwan, rising to a height of , feet above the sea by the determination of jacquemont, or feet above the plain. it projects forward in an almost isolated manner, though it is connected by a narrow ridge behind with the general mass of the range on the north side of the valley. on the th of may i ascended to the summit of this mountain, which i found to be entirely formed of trap, partly homogeneous, and partly amygdaloidal. several gigantic _umbelliferæ_, already in full flower, were abundant in the lower parts of the open valley by which i ascended. one of these was _prangos pabularia_, which formed dense thickets four or five feet high. from this open valley i got upon a sharp ridge, grassy below but very rocky above, along which i proceeded almost to the top; but being stopped by a precipice, i was obliged to enter a narrow rocky ravine, by ascending which i managed to gain the summit, which was grassy and rounded, and covered with a few patches of snow. on the northern face of the hill snow still lay in great quantity. the view from the top was very fine, the day being in every respect favourable: the greater part of the valley of kashmir was seen spread out far below, and a complete circle of snowy mountains bounded the horizon. the mountains to the north were seen to be distinctly stratified. the commonest plants on the ascent were a beautiful rose-coloured _oxytropis_, and a tulip (_t. stellata_), the flowers of which, when fully expanded, spread out like a star. a few trees of _pinus excelsa_ were seen on the upper part of the ridge; and in a hollow close to the top there were about a dozen yew-trees. on the summit, though the vegetation was not generally alpine, most of the plants of the middle zone extending to the very top, there were many pretty little spring flowers, which did not extend far down. a _primula_, _pedicularis_, _gentiana_, _leontopodium_, _corydalis_, and _callianthemum_, were all in flower. on the northern slope of the mountain, a wood of deciduous trees, still bare of leaves, commenced a few yards below the summit. at first the trees were all birch, but lower down a cherry and maple were mixed with it; the former with young leaves, and just-formed racemes; the latter only recognizable by the last year's leaves, which strewed the ground. a few horse-chesnut trees were also seen near the top. [sidenote: ancient city of avantipura. _may, ._] the neighbourhood of the village of avantipura is one of the most interesting places in which the lacustrine strata of the kashmir valley can be studied, as there is distinct evidence of the existence in that place of deposits much more recent than those which extend over the whole plain, and which were therefore formed when the valley was occupied by a large lake. avantipura was formerly the site of a very large town, the capital, i believe, of the kingdom; built in the shape of an amphitheatre in a deep semicircular bay, enclosed by two low spurs, which project from the mountain wasterwan, which rises immediately behind. the ruins of the ancient town are still visible, consisting of heaps of stones, some of immense size, indicative of large buildings, but none of them showing the slightest traces by which the shape or structure of the edifices could be determined. these ruins extend all round the deep recess in the mountains, and terminate below quite abruptly, without any apparent cause, in a perfectly horizontal line along the mountain-side. the mountain behind is an isolated peak, furrowed by numerous ravines, which are dry except immediately after rain. the place would therefore appear singularly inappropriate as the site of a large city, were there not, i think, sufficient evidence that a lake existed in front of the town, the surface of which was on a level with the horizontal line by which the ruins are abruptly terminated. [sidenote: clay, with broken pottery. _may, ._] the ruins of the ancient city stand upon the lacustrine clay of the kashmir plain, and are therefore posterior in age to the period when the valley was occupied by one large lake. immediately in front of the ancient ruins, between them and the small modern village of avantipura, which is situated on the banks of the jelam, there occur beds of fine brown-coloured clay, containing in great quantity fragments of pottery, with here and there small pieces of charcoal and bone. in one place on the bank of a small ravine, which then probably carried a streamlet into the lake, i found the clay to contain, mixed with the broken pottery, numerous shells, some fresh-water and some land species, and all the same as are common at the present day in the river jelam, or on the grassy hill-sides in the valley. the place where these shells occur is fifty or sixty feet above the river. the appearance of this evidently very modern deposit is exactly that which would no doubt be exhibited, were the present lake close to the city of kashmir dried up, and a section of its bed exposed. this lake contains abundance of shells, and in the neighbourhood of the town it is made the receptacle of refuse of every kind, broken pottery being particularly plentiful. in shallow places in the river, close to the town of bijbehara, a similar deposit is accumulating, valves of a _cyrena_ being found to some depth in the fine mud, mixed with broken pots, charcoal, bones, and other refuse. [sidenote: temple imbedded. in lacustrine clay. _may, ._] the most remarkable fact connected with this very recent lacustrine deposit is, that the ruins of an ancient temple exist on the plain above the jelam, a little west of the modern village, partially buried in the clay. the upper parts of two temples, resembling in all respects the ruins on the elevated platform at martand, near islamabad, stand on the open plain, not far from the river, but perhaps twenty feet above its level, and certainly far below the level to which the clay containing pottery rises on the hill-sides. one of the temples is quite in ruins, the immense blocks of which it is built being piled confusedly on one another. the beautiful colonnade (exactly like that at martand) by which it is surrounded, is evidently quite uninjured in any way; but it is entirely buried under the lacustrine clay, except a very small portion, consisting of three pillars, which were exposed by major cunningham in . these three pillars may be seen in a cavity under the level of the present surface of the ground, and the clay in which they were imbedded contains fragments of pottery in profusion. if these temples (the date of which i believe is approximately known to antiquarians) were contemporaneous with the ancient town, they must have been buried in the lacustrine silt at some period not very long subsequent to their erection, if i am right in supposing a lake to have existed at the same time with the town. probably, therefore, they are anterior in age to the town, as they are imbedded in such masses of pottery as could only have been accumulated in the neighbourhood of a very dense population. their present appearance, i think, helps to explain the nature and origin of the many lakes or marshy depressions which occur in all parts of the valley. it appears evident that at avantipura, at some period subsequent to the building of the temples, a subsidence of the ground must have taken place during one of the many earthquakes which are well known to have convulsed the kashmir valley. this subsidence, which must have been partial, and not co-extensive with the valley, converted the ground on which the temples stood into a lake. a fresh subsidence, or the gradual wearing away of the incoherent clay strata lower down the river, must at last have drained the little lake, and left the country round avantipura in the state in which we now see it. even now a marsh partly under water during the spring months extends from avantipura for several miles up the river. the occurrence of repeated partial subsidences in various parts of the kashmir plain appears to me the only way in which the general appearance of the country can be explained. the abrupt, broad, and shallow depressions between the different platforms are seemingly much too extensive to have been formed by the trifling streamlets which now run along them, without the assistance of volcanic action. the lakes, too, are deeper than the present level of the river, a circumstance only explicable in an alluvial country on some such supposition; and as it is well known that violent earthquakes have at intervals convulsed this valley for many centuries, this mode of explaining the phenomena becomes highly probable. [sidenote: bijbehara. _may, ._] [sidenote: islamabad. _may, ._] on the th of may i continued my journey to islamabad, which is about eleven miles from avantipura. the peak of wasterwan is the termination of a long mountain ridge, which separates two large valleys from one another. immediately to the eastward, therefore, the mountains recede from the river, and the road traverses a marshy tract, a great part of which, from the late heavy rains, was still under water, while the remainder was laid out in fields, prepared for the cultivation of rice. further on, cliffs of lacustrine clay again rose perpendicularly from the river. several streams joined the jelam from both sides, some of them deep and sluggish, with straight banks like canals, while others were almost as large as the main stream, and broad and shallow, with a sandy bed and gently flowing current. near bijbehara, a considerable village, with many timber-built houses and a substantial bridge of deodar, the banks are beautifully wooded with shady trees. above this village the jelam is much smaller, often shallow, and the banks lower, though still eight or ten feet above the water, and not swampy, but either fringed with willow and mulberry trees, or bare and covered with fields of green corn, or of rape now in full flower. the bridge of islamabad, which is the limit of navigation, is nearly a mile from the town, which is a considerable place, the next in importance to the capital, though very much smaller. it lies on low ground close by the river, but immediately behind it a long promontory of the lacustrine formation stretches back for several miles, rising abruptly out of the finely cultivated and well-wooded valley on the left, in steep, rugged cliffs, which are worn into irregular ravines by the action of rain. these formations attain here a thickness of at least feet, and well deserve the particular attention of the geologist. the ancient temple of martand, the most perfect of its class of ruins in the valley, is built on the upper and back part of this platform. leaving islamabad, i crossed immediately one branch of the jelam, which descends from the west. it had already lost the tranquil character of the stream lower down. there were pebbles in its bed, and it had a more rapid current. after crossing this stream, the country was for some distance quite flat, and entirely covered with rice-fields, now bare; some of them had been ploughed, but most were still just as they had been left after harvest. they were traversed by numerous ditches or canals for irrigation, in all of which a proportion of fresh-water shells, chiefly _lymnææ_, were seen. further on, the appearance of the country began to change: there were still plenty of rice-fields, but they rose in steps one above another, and the water in the irrigation canals flowed rapidly over pebbly beds. crossing another branch of the jelam, which had a broad channel full of large boulders, but shallow and easily fordable, the road began gradually to ascend a low range of hills covered with grass and bushes where it was dry, but still laid out in rice-fields wherever water was procurable. these hills, which are the termination of a long range which descends from the snow-clad mountains at the east end of the valley, are composed of a very hard limestone, the strata of which are much bent, sinuated, and fractured. on the south side of this ridge is the valley of shahabad, which is watered by the principal branch of the jelam. it contains numerous villages, surrounded with fine orchards, and its rice-fields are arranged in terraces. water being plentiful, the whole valley is cultivated with rice, and the district appears to be one of the richest in kashmir. [sidenote: shahabad. _may, ._] the general character of the vegetation continues the same as further west, and the more advanced season enabled me to recognize a few common himalayan plants. the scandent white rose (_r. brunonis_) was one of these, also _lonicera diversifolia_ and a shrubby _indigofera_. i also observed _viola serpens_, _thymus serpyllum_, _lactuca dissecta_, and _fragaria indica_. among the rice-fields several plains plants occurred, such as _potentilla supina_, _convolvulus arvensis_, _mazus rugosus_, _salvia plebeia_, and _marsilea quadrifolia_. nor were the plants of a tibetan climate altogether wanting, for _rosa webbiana_ was everywhere common, and a species of _myricaria_ grew plentifully among the boulders on the banks of all the streams. [sidenote: fountain of vernag. _may, ._] from shahabad i made, on the th, a short march to vernag, a celebrated fountain near the bottom of the banahal pass. crossing the river, the road lay up the open valley of the jelam, still among rice-fields, rising step by step behind one another, as the valley sloped upwards. vernag lies close to the mouth of a little lateral valley, up which our further course lay. the fountain, which is built of marble, is large, contains many fish, and supplies a considerable stream. it is the reputed source of the behat or jelam, but the main branch of that river descends from the mountains a good way further to the south-west. the hills on both sides of the shahabad valley are of limestone, the strike of which seemed to be west-south-west, or nearly in the direction of the valley. it is very much indurated, and its colour is bluish-grey; it has all the appearance of having been much altered by heat. the dip appeared different on the opposite sides of the valley: on the north it was east of north, on the other side southerly; the inclination of the beds varied much, and they were often very much distorted. i did not see any eruption of igneous rock on any part of the day's journey. on the hills above vernag there was a good deal of brushwood, consisting chiefly of _fothergilla involucrata_, two species of _viburnum_, _cotoneaster_, _lonicera_, and a few trees of _pinus excelsa_, yew, and deodar. the opposite hills were bare and grassy. in the forests of kashmir (as was first pointed out by dr. falconer) we do not find the oak, _andromeda_, and _rhododendron_, which are so abundant at similar elevations in the outer himalaya. the appearance of the woods is, therefore, remarkably different, as these trees, which, in the temperate zone of the mountains near the plains, constitute almost all the forest, give the woods there a peculiar character. [sidenote: banahal pass. _may, ._] on the th of may i passed from the valley of kashmir into the basin of the chenab, crossing the banahal pass, the summit of which is not more than , feet above the sea: it is a very narrow ridge, separating two deep valleys. starting through rice-fields, and passing at the upper limit of cultivation a few fields of barley and rape, i soon entered brushwood, the same as on the hills above vernag. in the ravines on the left hand, snow descended below feet. ascending rapidly on a ridge, the brushwood gave place to a fine wood of maple, horse-chesnut, cherry, hazel, and elm, all just bursting into leaf. the dip of the limestone rocks was exceedingly variable, at one time southerly, at another northerly, but the strike was, i believe, the same as the day before. the ascent continuing rapid, the shady side of the ridge was soon covered with snow; but the road kept on the southern exposure, which was sometimes bare of forest. birch at last appeared among the other trees, and, as the elevation increased, it began to predominate. about the same time, the limestone gave place to a slaty rock, which was almost immediately followed by an amygdaloid, which continued to the summit. both the slate and the limestone appeared to have been upheaved by the igneous rock, and i thought the slate seemed inferior to the limestone. on the upper part of the ascent the birch gradually became more and more stunted; it was here almost the only tree, with the exception of a few specimens of _picea webbiana_, at the limit of forest a little below the summit. here the hills were bare and rocky; but the forest did not cease on account of elevation, because on the opposite hill, which had a northern exposure, a shady wood, chiefly consisting of pines, rose to a level considerably higher than that of the pass, which was a depression in the ridge, considerably overtopped by the hills on both sides. the crest of the pass was undulating, and covered with green-sward, among which a few spring plants were in flower; these were a _corydalis_, an _anemone_, and _primula denticulata_. a large patch of snow occupied the northern slope, just below the top. the view from the summit would have been magnificent had the day been more favourable; but a thick haze rested over the more distant parts of the valley of kashmir, as well as over the southern mountains in the direction of the plains of india. the southern slope of the range on which i stood was bare, scarcely even a bush being visible; and the banahal valley, nearly four thousand feet below, appeared as a perfectly level plain, covered with rice-fields and scattered villages, marked by groves of trees. on the descent i followed a very steep rocky ridge. about half-way down, the amygdaloid was replaced by metamorphic slate, and for the remainder of the descent the rocks were alternations of slate, very hard conglomerate, and quartz rock. the dip of these strata was very variable, and on the face of several spurs, at a little distance, sections were exposed, exhibiting enormous flexures. i saw no limestone on the southern face of the pass, except in the valley of banahal, where there was a good deal of a horizontally stratified limestone, very different in appearance from that on the other side, which, as it was confined to the bottom of the valley, and was there very local, appeared to be of much more recent origin. [sidenote: banahal valley. _may, ._] after joining the banahal river, the descent became more gradual. at first, the valley was almost level and quite covered with rice-fields, all under water. the villagers were busy ploughing, both bullocks and men knee-deep in soft mud. further on, the valley contracted, and cultivation only occurred at intervals. in the narrower parts, the stream was fringed with trees, but the hill-sides were still quite bare. round the villages there were very fine trees, chiefly walnut, horse-chesnut, and elms, with the ordinary fruit-trees; but the plane and black poplar do not occur, nor are any vines cultivated in the valley. the winter is said to be quite as severe as in kashmir; and the elevation, so far as i could determine it by the boiling-point of water, is a little greater, the lower villages (in one of which i encamped) being about feet, while the highest fields are about feet. in the woods, _fothergilla_, cherry, sycamore, and horse-chesnut were common, just as in kashmir. the season was much further advanced than on the north side of the pass, all these trees being fully in leaf, and the horse-chesnut in flower. the greater part of the vegetation was identical with that of kashmir, but i saw many more species, probably only from the more advanced state of the season. the _zizyphus_ and rose (_r. webbiana_) of kashmir were still common, and the white poplar was wild along the banks of the stream. i did not, however, see _daphne_ or _myricaria_. in shady lateral ravines an oak was frequent, the more interesting as i had seen none in kashmir; it was _q. floribunda_, a species of the middle zone of the outer himalaya, which usually occurs at higher levels than _q. incana_, and lower than _q. semecarpifolia_. though the river of banahal is a tributary of the chenab, yet the district has always been considered as a dependency of kashmir, from which it is only a short day's journey distant, while for several days in descending towards the chenab, the country is almost uninhabited. halting one day at banahal to change my porters, i made three marches to nasmon, on the right bank of the chenab, following the course of the banahal river during the first and part of the second march, but afterwards leaving it, on account of its increasing ruggedness, to cross the range on the left hand by a pass about feet above the sea, which overhangs the valley of the chenab. the bounding spurs which hem in the banahal valley descend almost perpendicularly upon the chenab, and dip at last very abruptly to that river. at first, large masses of snow were visible at the sources of all the lateral valleys, but lower down the elevation was not sufficient, and the hills were bare. after leaving the last village of banahal, the bottom of the valley was for some time level and covered with fine forest, consisting chiefly of magnificent trees of _celtis_, elm, and alder; the others were two species of acer, _fraxinus_, _morus_, _populus ciliata_, and a willow. _fothergilla_ now grew to a small tree, and _marlea_ made its appearance, the first indication of an approach to a hot climate. soon, the banks of the river became rocky, and left no passage, so that the road ascended on the right bank, and lay at a considerable elevation on the hill-sides, looking down upon a richly wooded and often rocky glen. the hills were steep and generally bare, but the ravines were often well wooded. _pinus excelsa_ occurred occasionally; _quercus floribunda_ was common, and _q. lanata_ made its appearance. before leaving the banahal river, i had got down to about feet, meeting latterly with some familiar plants of the warmer zone: _pinus longifolia_ formed dry woods, _cedrela toona_, a fig, _albizzia mollis_, and last of all, _dalbergia sissoo_. still, most of the plants of the upper part of the valley accompanied me throughout; even the hoary oak had not disappeared, and the general appearance of the vegetation was very different from what it would have been at the same elevation further east, the plants of a hot climate being chiefly such as delight in a dry heat, and are capable of enduring a considerable amount of winter cold, provided the summer temperature be sufficiently elevated. it was evident that the temperature was considerably lower than it would have been at the same height in the sutlej valley, and i drew the same inference with regard to the humidity, from the appearance of a number of dry-climate plants; for instance, a yellow spinous _astragalus_, a _dianthus_, and _eremurus_, an asphodeleous genus common in kunawar, and other dry valleys of the himalaya. [sidenote: pass above nasmon. _may, ._] in the ascent of the lateral ravine, towards the pass above nasmon, i encountered, for the first time, _rhododendron arboreum_ and _andromeda ovalifolia_, the two trees which, with the hoary oak, form the mass of the simla woods. the forest was now very fine, as i was on the northern slope of the range. on the upper part of the ridge by which i ascended, there was a grove of fine deodar-trees, and in the bottom of the dell a shady wood of horse-chesnut and sycamore. i had now entered a zone in which the flora was quite similar to that of simla; _fothergilla_ being the only tree i observed, which is not common in that district. and it was curious that it was on the northern and most shady, as well as most humid exposure, that this identity of flora became first remarkable, and that the same trees which at simla form the forests of the drier slopes and more exposed situations, grew in this valley low down on the hill-sides, in the most sheltered spots. [sidenote: vegetation. _may, ._] the ascent towards the ridge was latterly steep, with a good deal of silver fir and deodar. the trees rose to the very top of the northern slope, but, as usual, the summit was bare and grassy, though the tops of the trees were actually higher than the crest of the ridge, and obscured the view to the north. as the elevation was only feet, there was no peculiarity of vegetation, all the plants being those of the middle zone, except the silver fir, which descended to a lower level than it usually does in the simla hills. there was some cultivation of wheat and barley within a very short distance of the summit, which overlooked the valley of the chenab; and as the day was fortunately clear, there was a very fine view. the ravine through which the river flowed appeared everywhere rugged, more especially towards the plains, where a succession of steep rocky hills were seen, the nearest of which surrounded the mouth of the banahal river. across the chenab, a high range, beautifully wooded, ran parallel to the river, rising into a snowy peak nearly opposite to me. this peak, which concealed all view of the plains beyond, lay on my road to jamu, and was about feet in height. [sidenote: bridge over the chenab. _may, ._] the descent to nasmon, which is only feet above the level of the sea, was very steep. at first it led along the face of a bare hill, but soon entered a shady ravine, filled with alder, oak, walnut, and _celtis_, but without any of the superb horse-chesnuts which had been so abundant in the humid valleys on the northern face of the range; nor was there any _rhododendron_. crossing a considerable stream, the road ascended through fine forest to the crest of a ridge, beyond which there was a long and steep descent of at least feet, to the village of nasmon, on which tropical vegetation made its appearance very abruptly. _pinus longifolia_ grew scattered along the sides of this hill, and _daphne_, pomegranate, the olive of the sutlej valley, _vitex negundo_, _colebrookea_, _rottlera_, _sissoo_, _adhatoda vasica_, a thorny _celastrus_, _acacia modesta_ and _lebbek_, and _bauhinia variegata_, made their appearance in succession, in the order in which i have named them. most of these are the same as the shrubby forms common in the sutlej valley at rampur; but the _celastrus_ and _acacia modesta_ are plants of the plains of the western punjab, and do not extend so far west as that river. the range parallel to the chenab on the north, which i had just crossed, has probably a granitic axis, for boulders of granite were common on the upper part of the ascent on both sides of the pass, though i did not anywhere see that rock _in situ_. on both sides the first rock exposed was a fine-grained gneiss, with large crystals of felspar. lower down, on the north face, i observed mica-slate, with garnets; and in the bed of the banahal river ordinary clay-slate occurred. [sidenote: nasmon. _may, ._] nasmon is a very large but scattered village, with much cultivation. it lies on a high platform of alluvium, considerably above the bed of the river. plane, orange, apricot, and pear trees grew in the gardens, with _melia azedarach_, and a few trees of the european cypress (_c. sempervirens_), bearing apparently ripe fruit. the day was oppressively warm, the thermometer rising above ° in the shade. on the th of may, i crossed the chenab by a bridge about a mile above nasmon. the descent to the bank of the river was gradual, and very bare. rocks of a black clay-slate and of conglomerate, in nearly vertical strata, formed the bed of the river, which was as large as the sutlej at rampur, and very much swollen and muddy. the bridge is the simplest form of _jhula_, a single set of ropes, from which a wooden seat is suspended, which is pulled from side to side by means of a rope, worked from the rocks on either side of the river. the banks of the river were adorned with a profusion of bushes of _nerium odorum_, in full flower, and highly ornamental. the vegetation along the river exhibited the same curious contrast of tropical and temperate forms, which i have already described as characteristic of the dry valleys of the interior of the himalaya, at elevations between two and four thousand feet; and the tropical plants were so similar to those which i observed on the sutlej, that i need not particularize them. there was no forest in any part of the valley near the river, but a few trees of _pinus longifolia_ grew scattered on the bank; and on the stony ground which skirted the stream, there was a low jungle of the same tropical shrubs as had occurred on the lower part of the descent the day before. i saw also _zizyphus nummularia_, a shrub which is eminently characteristic of a dry climate, being common in the most desert and rainless districts of the punjab. the shrubby temperate forms were not numerous, being chiefly _rosa brunonis_, and the himalayan pear, _lonicera diversifolia_, _myrsine bifaria_, and _jasminum revolutum_, all plants which have a very wide range in the himalaya. [sidenote: wild olives and pomegranates. _may, ._] passing through the bush jungle which skirted the river, i entered a large tract of almost level cultivated land, covered with fields of barley, ripe and partly cut. one or two plantain-trees, and some buffaloes, were signs that we were still in a very hot region. crossing a considerable stream, the road began to ascend rapidly on a narrow ridge. passing some farm-houses, surrounded by fields, i entered a scattered wood of wild olive-trees (_olea cuspidata_), mixed with _zizyphus_ and wild pomegranate. the young shoots and panicles of the olive were abundantly covered with a white floccose glutinous matter, the source of which i could not exactly determine; but i could see no trace of any insects by which it could have been formed, so that it was perhaps a natural exudation from the tree. small woods of _pinus longifolia_ occurred at intervals, almost alone, for few plants seem to thrive under its shade. at feet, while the olive and pomegranate were still abundant, _quercus lanata_ appeared. at feet, which was about the upper limit of the olive, i re-entered a cultivated district, disposed in terraces on the slopes of the hills. the barley was quite ripe, and being cut, but the wheat, though in full ear, was still green. there were also a few fields of the opium poppy in full flower, and of safflower (_carthamus tinctorius_), which was not nearly so far advanced. i encamped at the village of balota, elevated feet. round the village were some very fine table-topped deodars, perhaps the relics of a former forest, though more likely planted by the villagers. the hills on all sides were richly cultivated, as far up as feet, above which elevation fine forest commenced; and the snowy top of the mountain behind, which i had seen from the pass of the th, was visible rising behind the forest. during the whole of the ascent from the chenab, the rock was a coarse-grained sandstone, in highly inclined strata, generally of a reddish-brown colour, the surface of which rapidly passes into a state of decay. [sidenote: ladhe ke dhar. _may, ._] the range of mountains to the south of the chenab, by which that river is separated from the basin of the tawi or river of jamu, still lay between me and the plains of india. on the th of may, i crossed a spur from this range, descending into a valley watered by a tributary of the chenab. this ridge, which is called ladhe ke dhar, rises a little above feet, that being the elevation at which the road crosses it. after leaving the cultivated lands of balota, the ascent, which was steady, lay through fine brushwood and stunted oaks. on the banks of the stream, which occupied the centre of the valley by which i ascended, sycamore, horse-chesnut, and cherry, were abundant. on the slopes there were a few trees of _pinus excelsa_ and _picea_, but the forest was not dense. about feet, on the north-western face of a spur, there was much cultivation of wheat and barley, hardly yet in ear. here there was a fine view in the direction of the upper valley of the chenab, of rugged mountains, scarcely wooded on the slope exposed to view, rising behind one another, the more distant still heavily snowed. higher up, the forest was chiefly formed of the holly-leaved oak, but the latter part of the ascent was through a dark forest of silver fir, intermixed with a few fine yews. the underwood here was chiefly _viburnum nervosum_, still in flower, though its leaves were almost fully developed. on emerging from this gloomy forest, in the upper part of which there was a thin sprinkling of snow, i found myself on the crest of the range, which was bare and rounded. snow lay in large patches, and had evidently been till very recently continuous over the whole top, as vegetation was just commencing, and few plants were in flower. _primula denticulata_ was common, as well as a little gentian, which extended on both sides at least feet lower; the only alpine plant was the little _callianthemum_ which i had found some days before on the summit of wasterwan in kashmir. the distant view was unfortunately quite obscured by haze, so that i could not see, as i had expected, the plains of india. [sidenote: katti. _may, ._] in descending the southern face of this mountain, the road at once entered a forest of silver fir, in the upper part of which i saw one tree of _quercus semecarpifolia_, a species which i had not met with on the kashmir passes, or anywhere since leaving the sutlej. about feet, the pines were replaced by the holly-leaved oak, forming open woods, in the glades of which patches of cultivation soon occurred; i encamped at about feet, at the village of katti. during the day the sandstone rock occurred uninterruptedly, partly, as the day before, of a reddish-brown colour, partly grey, or nearly white. on the descent large angular fragments of this rock were everywhere scattered over the surface, almost always more or less imbedded in the soil: these had somewhat the appearance of a former moraine, but the surface was so much covered with wood, and the boulders were so much buried, that i could not trace their arrangement in a satisfactory manner. [sidenote: landar. _may, ._] next morning i continued the descent, which was rapid, so that i soon arrived at tropical vegetation. there was but little forest, except in ravines, and the heat soon became very great. about three miles from katti i passed the fort of landar, built on an almost isolated cliff, overhanging the ravine; and a little further on i descended abruptly to a small stream, running towards the chenab, the elevation of whose bed was about feet. the descent, which was almost precipitous, led down the face of a mass of clay, in some respects like the alluvial deposits so common in tibet. similar masses of alluvium, all table-topped, and very steep, and much worn by ravines, had occurred throughout the whole of the descent from katti. a few pines grew on this steep bank, and all the shrubs which i had found on the banks of the chenab at nasmon were again met with. after crossing this stream, the bed of which was filled with large water-worn boulders, i again ascended to about feet, chiefly among cultivation, and encamped at _mir_, a small village close to the crest of the main range south of the chenab, the elevation of which was now very inconsiderable. [sidenote: open valleys of the outer himalaya. _may, ._] next day, a gentle ascent of half an hour brought me to the crest of this range. the mountain slopes were bare and grassy, but in the ravines there was now and then some brushwood. _andromeda ovalifolia_ and _rhododendron arboreum_ were both noticed; and, much to my surprise, i observed at intervals a few trees of _fothergilla_, for i had not expected to find this kashmir tree so close to the plains, and in a district the flora of which was so completely that of the simla hills. on the summit of the pass, which was not more than feet, i found a beautiful gentian (_g. kurroo_ of royle) and a yellow spinous _astragalus_, seemingly the same species which i had found at nasmon, on the chenab. it was curious to find a representative of the spiny-petioled group of this genus in so hot a climate and so near the plains; for in the rainy parts of the mountains, and in the more humid parts of the indian plain, the genus is almost wanting, and this particular section entirely so. from the summit i descended at once through a pine-wood to the bottom of a valley, the course of which i followed throughout the day in a southerly direction. it gradually widened as i advanced; villages became frequent, and were surrounded by extensive cultivation, and all temperate vegetation disappeared. i encamped at the village of kirmichi, where the valley which i was following appeared to expand into an open plain of some width. here oranges and mulberries were cultivated in gardens, and the toon and mango, pipal and banyan (_ficus religiosa_ and _indica_) were planted in groves round the houses. on the th of may, i continued my journey towards the plains of the punjab. an open, somewhat undulating valley lay before me, appearing to stretch from east to west, and to be bounded by two ranges of hills which had the same direction. trikota debi, a curious three-peaked hill, the last culminating point of the range separating the chenab from the tawi, rose some miles to the westward. to the eastward the valley of the tawi was open as far as ramnagar, which was distant about twenty miles. in crossing this open plain, or _dhun_, i nearly followed the course of a little stream which had excavated for itself a deep channel in the soft sandstone of which the plain was composed. this rock was very different in appearance from the red or grey sandstone which had accompanied us from balota; it was pure white, and almost horizontally stratified, while that was always highly inclined. during the latter part of my journey of the th i nowhere saw rock _in situ_, so that i had no opportunity of ascertaining the contact of these two formations, which are probably of very different epochs, the sandstone of the open plain being certainly the sewalik tertiary formation, while the red sandstone of the higher mountains, which in the total absence of all organic remains is as yet of uncertain age, is perhaps the same as the gypsiferous and saliferous sandstones which skirt a great part of the western himalaya. one or two pine-trees, and some bushes of _euphorbia pentagona_, were almost the only features in the vegetation which distinguished this open valley from the plains of india. on shady rocks along the stream three or four ferns were common; the oleander also grew near water; a dwarf date-palm occupied drier spots; and i saw a few trees of _cassia fistula_. crossing a broad shallow river which flowed to the eastward at the southern boundary of this _dhun_, in a depression faced by cliffs of sandstone, i entered among low hills covered with scattered trees of _pinus longifolia_. this plant appears to grow luxuriantly on hot dry hills; the trees did not attain a great size, but appeared vigorous and healthy, with thick trunks and gnarled branches, exactly like the scotch fir, except in the great length of the leaves, which are pendulous from the ends of the branches. [sidenote: sandstone ranges. _may, ._] on the th, i crossed a sandstone range, in which the strata exhibited an anticlinal axis, dipping towards the plain on both sides. the ascent was easy, and the summit was not above the limit of tropical vegetation, as a banyan-tree grew on the top. the descent was much steeper and considerably longer, the valley to the south being a good deal lower. the road was good, being in the steeper parts paved with large flat stones, while in the more rocky parts the sandstone was cut into steps. a flat and well cultivated valley lay to the south of this range, in the centre of which flowed a river, in a wide channel several hundred feet below the level of the plain: it was very shallow, and was crossed by stepping-stones. another hilly tract followed, covered with straggling bush jungle, and on the upper part with pine-forest: this was also of sandstone, very soft, and excavated by the various little streams which traversed it, into narrow and deep ravines. even foot-paths, by constant use, were sunk four or five feet deep in the soft rock. the dip of this range was gentle, towards the plains of india. [sidenote: jamu. _may, ._] i encamped on the th at seda, under the shade of a superb banyan-tree, in a hollow in this sandstone range, and next day continued my journey to jamu. emerging from the hills after a mile or two, i entered a third valley, and followed the course of the little stream by which it was watered, to its junction with the tawi, along which i travelled about four miles; to the town of jamu, which is built on the outermost range of hills, at the point where the river tawi finally quits the mountains. these hills rise very gently from the plains, their southern slope forming a long inclined plane, densely covered with a jungle of low thorny trees. the same sort of jungle usually skirts their base to a distance of two or three miles, or as far as the alluvial soil of the level country which lies beyond is covered with stones and shingle. it is principally composed of _acacia modesta_ and _catechu_, and of two species of _zizyphus_. the northern or inner face of this range of hills is very steep, often quite precipitous; and where they overhang the tawi, they terminate abruptly in a line of cliffs facing the river. a similar range, but a good deal lower, descends from the eastward towards jamu, and, like the other, presents a series of vertical cliffs covered with brushwood towards the river. the town occupies the gentle slope which faces the plains; it is a straggling and dirty place, but with some very good houses. the principal building is the residence of maharaja gulab sing; at the time of my visit occupied by his eldest son. it is situated on the edge of the cliff, overhanging the river, and commands a fine view of the open valley of the tawi below, and of the mountain ranges to the north and east, the more distant of which were still tipped with snow. the outermost range of hills, which does not rise to any great elevation, consists entirely of loose conglomerate coarsely stratified, the beds dipping very gently towards the plains. the boulders of which it is composed are waterworn, and very various in composition, but all referable to the interior ranges; a few thin beds of sand and of a clay resembling pipe-clay, are interposed between the strata of conglomerate. the very curious country through which i had been travelling since the th, had so much the appearance of a succession of valleys parallel to the plains, and separated by long ranges of hills, that it was difficult to avoid taking up that impression, which, notwithstanding, i believe to be an erroneous one. the gentle slope of the different tributaries which join the tawi from the right and left, tends to keep out of sight the longitudinal ranges parallel to that river, from which the lateral ramifications proceed. when we obtain a detailed survey of the district, it will be found that the lateral valleys on each side of the tawi do not correspond in direction, and are not quite opposite to one another, and that the apparent uniformity is caused by the great width of their valleys, when compared with the elevation of the bounding ranges. the sewalik sandstone here attains a width of at least thirty miles, which is very much more than is found further west. chapter xi. leave jamu to return to tibet -- lake of sirohi sar -- vegetation of lower hills -- _dodonæa_ -- ramnagar -- garta -- dadu, on a tributary of the chenab -- camp at , feet -- badarwar -- padri pass -- descend a tributary of the ravi -- and ascend another towards the north -- sach _joth_, or pass -- snow-beds -- camp in chenab valley. on my arrival in kashmir, i had forwarded an application to the indian government, requesting permission to return to tibet, for the purpose of visiting the mountains north of nubra, which, from the advanced state of the season, i had been unable to do the previous year. soon after reaching jamu, i received intimation that the governor-general, lord dalhousie, had been pleased to accede to my request. i had already determined, if permitted to return to le, to take the route by zanskar, which, though much frequented by the natives of the country, was quite unknown to european travellers; but as the season was far advanced, i chose a road through the higher hills, instead of taking that leading directly to chamba, which would have obliged me to travel for at least a week through the hot valleys of the outer ranges. [sidenote: lake of sirohi sar. _may, ._] i left jamu on the morning of the rd of may. after crossing the tawi by a ferry immediately below the town, my road lay for three miles up the left bank of that river, along an open sandy plain, only very partially cultivated. i then turned to the right, and entered the low hills which skirted the plain on that side. the road generally followed the course of the ravines, which have been excavated out of the soft sandstone by the numerous tributaries which descend to join the tawi. these streams are all of small size, with gravelly or sandy beds, and are separated by low ridges of some breadth, faced generally by perpendicular cliffs. an undulating country of this nature occupies the whole of the space which intervenes between the outer range of hills and that next to it, a distance, by the road along which i travelled, of about twelve miles. this second range is a branch given off by an axis, whose direction is nearly east and west. the road ascended to it by a very steep rocky path, after surmounting which i found myself on a considerable tract of nearly level ground, partly occupied by a pretty little lake, with grassy banks. on the banks of this lake, which is called sirohi sar, and is rather less than half a mile in length, i encamped on the th of may, in a grove of very fine mango-trees. the depth of the lake did not appear great, its margins being for a considerable distance very shallow, and producing an abundance of reeds and water-plants, among which the sacred _nelumbium_, with its gay flowers, was conspicuous. the elevation of the lake, as deduced from the boiling-point of water, i found to be feet. it occupies a depression in the top of the ridge, being surmounted on both sides by low ranges of hills, rising only to the height of a few hundred feet. at the east end, a low flat plain, interrupted only by a few regular rocky knolls, seemed to indicate that the size of the lake had formerly been more considerable than at present. [sidenote: vegetation of sandstone hills. _may, ._] the vegetation of the country between jamu and sirohi sar was entirely of a tropical character. the rocky hills were in many places covered with thinly scattered pines, all of small size, and generally with much-contorted trunks, but apparently healthy and vigorous. in the cultivated grounds the plants were identical with those of the plains, but, as is usual in all hilly countries, the barren tracts produced a flora of a different character. _nerium odorum_ was abundant on the banks of streams, and i met with _cassia fistula_, _punica_, species of _rhus_ and _casearia_, as well as the curious _euphorbia pentagona_, and now and then the beautiful _bauhinia vahlii_. _acacia modesta_ and a _zizyphus_ were the most common trees. the lake produced a great variety of water-plants, but except an _alisma_ and _dysophylla_, both of which were new to me, the species seemed all natives of the plains. on the th of may, i proceeded along the side of the ridge in an easterly direction, passing several small flat-bottomed depressions, apparently the sites at a former period of small lakes, similar to that from which i had commenced my march. the road was rocky and rugged, and gradually rose several hundred feet to the crest of the ridge. pine-trees were generally plentiful. on reaching the top, shortly after daybreak, a fine wide undulating valley was seen below, bounded on the north at the distance of about ten miles by a third range of mountains, and traversed by several streams, which had excavated for themselves deep perpendicular-sided ravines in the sandstone strata. all these streams had a westerly course to join the tawi, which, issuing from a deep valley behind the third range, crossed the open plain in a south-west direction. [sidenote: sandstone ranges. _may, ._] leaving the ridge, the road descended gradually to the plain, and after crossing a deep ravine, with precipitous walls, continued through a fine level country to the village of thalaura, about a mile from the third range of hills. the sandstone frequently contained a few waterworn pebbles scattered through it; and a bed of coarse conglomerate, with an indurated matrix, capped the cliff above this ravine. some strata of indurated clay and soft slate also alternated, but rarely, with the sandstone. the plain was well cultivated, being chiefly laid out in rice-fields; and the people were all busy ploughing, sowing rice, and harrowing with a log of wood, drawn by bullocks and kept down by the weight of a man. on the earlier rocky part of the road, the vegetation was much the same as the day before. _dodonæa_ was common, as it is in most parts of this hilly tract, never, however, rising out of the tropical belt. i do not know how far to the eastward of jamu this plant extends; but as it does not seem to occur to the east of the sutlej, and probably stops much sooner[ ], it appears to prefer a rather dry climate, and will, i think, be found limited to the drier portion of the peninsula, from which it probably extends through central india, and along the hilly country west of sind. on the open plain the pines entirely disappeared, and the aspect of the vegetation was entirely that of the plains of india. from thalaura i marched, on the th of may, to ramnagar, crossing the third range of hills, the ascent of which was at first very steep and rocky, over a made road, paved with large stones, in many places much out of repair. this range was also sandstone, dipping to the north at a gentle angle; some strata of indurated clay occurred between the beds of sandstone. these hills were precipitous to the south, and sloped gently towards the north, in the direction of the dip. the tree _euphorbia_, which, with its stiff fleshy branches springing in verticils of five from the stem, forms a striking feature in the vegetation of the lower hills, was common on the ascent, and the yellow spinous _astragalus_, which i had observed between the chenab and jamu a fortnight before, was frequent on both sides of this ridge; but even at the top, except one species of _indigofera_, no plants indicating elevation were met with: on this account i omitted to determine the height of the range by the boiling-point of water, but comparing its elevation with that of ramnagar, which was in sight, i estimated that it might be about feet. to the north lay another valley, considerably more rugged than that crossed the day before, and evidently much more highly inclined, as its eastern termination was not far distant. this valley was traversed by the principal branch of the tawi, the source of which is in the mountains east of ramnagar. [sidenote: ramnagar. _may, ._] the descent from this range was very gradual, the road running obliquely to the eastward, among scattered pine-trees, over bare sandstone rocks, till it reached the bank of a small stream separated from the tawi by a low range of hills. during the descent, a number of plants of himalayan forms made their appearance, which had not occurred before: these were a berberry, _rubus flavus_, and _myrsine bifaria_. _olea cuspidata_ was seen lower down, and a species of alder grew in shady ravines along the edge of the stream. in the bottom of the valley, the mixture of the forms of the middle and lower zones was curious and interesting. _pinus longifolia_ occurred with _phoenix sylvestris_, alder with _rondeletia_ and _rottlera_, pear with _sissoo_, and _fragaria indica_ and _micromeria_ with _trichodesma_ and _solanum jacquini_. at the same time, it was evident that in this dry stony valley the tropical species, which formed the majority, were more at home than the stragglers which had descended from above. after ascending for a short distance along the banks of the little stream, the road crossed it, and after a short steep ascent from the right bank, the remainder of the day's journey was nearly level, along the sides of hills, or over a high table-land to ramnagar, a small town and fort, formerly the residence of rajah suchet sing, since whose death the place has been rapidly falling to decay, most of the shops of its well-built bazaar being now empty. there were in the neighbourhood one or two large gardens, in which the trees and plants were nearly all indian, _sissoo_ and _melia azedarach_ being the most common. a single plane-tree was scarcely an exception; for though undoubtedly more at home at greater elevations, the plane (like the poplar and many of the fruit-trees of temperate climes) does not refuse to grow even in the plains, as is proved by the occurrence of a number of trees of it of considerable size and apparently healthy in gardens at lahore. [sidenote: garta. _may, ._] leaving ramnagar on the morning of the th, i continued to ascend the valley of the tawi for about three miles, the road running along the sides of the hills among rich cultivation at a considerable height above the stream. it then descended somewhat abruptly to the river, and soon crossed to the right bank, from which a steep ascent commenced at once, and continued, with one or two interruptions of level cultivated ground, to the end of the day's journey. the ascent had throughout a southern exposure, and was in consequence generally bare of trees, and dry and grassy. much cultivated land was met with, wherever the ground was sufficiently level to admit of it. i encamped at a small village, or rather cluster of farmhouses, called garta, at a height of about feet. from the bare grassy nature of the ascent and its hot sunny exposure, the number of species of plants which occurred was very limited, and the change of vegetation much less marked than in better-wooded regions of these mountains. a few oaks (_q. lanata_) made their appearance about half-way up, or perhaps at feet. during this day's journey, i believe that i passed the point of contact of the tertiary sandstone with the more ancient rock, for on the ascent after crossing the river, the strata were very highly inclined, and often bent into large curves. the rock was also more indurated, and different in colour and appearance from that of the outer hills. i did not, however, observe the place where the change took place. [sidenote: pata. _may, ._] next day, the ascent continued equally steep and bare as the day before, and there was still much cultivation, wherever the surface was sufficiently level for the purpose, or could be made so by means of terracing. during the preceding day's march, the fields of wheat and barley had been for some time cut, but here, though generally ripe, they were still standing. on attaining an elevation of about feet, the steep spur which i had been ascending joined the main ridge, and the road, turning to the east, entered a thick forest of small oak-trees (_q. lanata_) through which it continued, alternately descending and ascending a little, as it entered the recesses or advanced along the projecting ridges. the greatest height attained may have been about feet, and the summit of the range, which was frequently visible, did not seem to be above feet higher. after about three miles of forest, the hills again became bare, and continued so till the end of the march, which terminated by an abrupt descent of or feet to a ravine, and an equally steep ascent to the village of pata, which was elevated about feet. throughout the day, the vegetation, both in the forest and on the open tracts, was identical with that of the simla hills. the forest consisted of oak, _rhododendron_, and _andromeda_. pines were visible at the very top of the ridge, but did not cross to the southern exposure: they appeared to be _picea webbiana_ (_pindrow_). the village at which i encamped was of considerable size, with extensive wheat cultivation, very luxuriant and in full ear, but still quite green. many trees of the glabrous holly-leaved oak were scattered among the fields, which, from the lateral branches having been lopped off by the villagers, rose to a great height with an erect poplar-like trunk, bearing only a small tuft of branches at the top, in a manner very foreign to the usual habit of the tree. on the th of may i crossed the range along which i had travelled the previous day, and descended into a valley watered by a tributary of the chenab, running towards the north-west. the ascent, which was bare and grassy, amounted only to about feet in perpendicular height. close to the top, a few trees of _picea_ made their appearance, while i was still on the south face of the ridge, and on gaining the crest of the pass, i found that the northern slope was occupied by a fine forest of the same tree. as the range was not sufficiently elevated to produce any really alpine plants, the vegetation presented little worthy of note. _viburnum nervosum_ was the commonest shrub, and an _anemone_, a _ranunculus_, the common _gypsophila_ and _trifolium repens_ were the herbs which predominated at the top. [sidenote: valley of dadu. _may, ._] the road descended rapidly through fine forest. the sombre silver fir was, after a short descent, mixed with plenty of horse-chesnut and sycamore, and of the glabrous-leaved oak. lower down, deodar and _abies smithiana_ also appeared, and on arriving in the valley, the forest gave place to cultivated fields, with only a few oak-trees scattered among them. the road now ascended the valley, which was tolerably open and well cultivated. the stream ran through a deep ravine, with steep, well-wooded, often rocky banks, far below the level of the cultivation. i encamped at an elevation of about feet, at a village called dadu, or doda, situated on the edge of a small open plain, covered with luxuriant crops of wheat. near the village, and along the edges of the cultivation, were numerous apricot-trees of large size; and a willow, apparently the same which occurs in kashmir (_s. alba_) was commonly planted. the general appearance of the place was very much that of the villages in lower kunawar; and i was much interested to find that although the greater part of the vegetation was the same as is common in the outer ranges of the mountains, a few plants indicative of a drier climate were to be seen. i was particularly surprised to find that _quercus lanata_, _rhododendron arboreum_, and _andromeda ovalifolia_, three trees which are everywhere most abundant in the outer ranges of the himalaya in the temperate zone, had entirely disappeared. the kashmir _fothergilla_ was not uncommon, and i noted at least four or five herbaceous plants, which i had first met with in that valley or in kunawar. on the northern face of this range, between pata and dadu, the sandstone, which had continued since i left the valley of the tawi, was replaced by a succession of metamorphic slates, sometimes very micaceous. in the valley of dadu, boulders of gneiss, with crystals of felspar from one to three inches in length, were common, but the rock did not occur _in situ_. the range of mountains bounding the valley on the south, did not appear to rise anywhere to a greater height than between and , feet, and where i crossed it, was not, i should think, higher than . immediately to the east of this low pass, however, it began to rise rapidly, and at the head of the valley lay a high snowy mountain, evidently a projecting peak of a long range descending from the north-east, and forming the boundary between the basins of the chenab and the ravi. this range, which in most places must be upwards of , feet, and which in some probably rises to , , must, i think, to some extent check the progress of the masses of clouds during the monsoon, and therefore tend to diminish the quantity of rain, particularly as the rain-clouds come from the eastward, on which account the lower altitude of the ridge to the south-west is of less importance. halting at dadu on the th of may, my road on the st lay up the valley towards the snowy range to the eastward. cultivation did not continue beyond the village; and after a steep, somewhat rocky ascent and descent over a bare spur, i followed the course of the stream as nearly as the precipitous nature of its banks would permit, through a forest of sycamore, walnut, alder, horse-chesnut, and holly-leaved oak. pines also were abundant, of the four common species: namely, deodar, spruce, silver fir, and _pinus excelsa_. after following the course of the river for about a mile, the road crossed a large lateral tributary descending from the right, and ascended a steep bare spur between it and the main stream for perhaps feet, after which it ran for some distance through fields of wheat still green, at first at a considerable distance above the stream, the bed of which, however, rose so rapidly that a very short descent brought me again to its banks. i then re-entered a beautiful forest, principally pine, in which the _pindrow_ was now the most common tree, bearing in abundance its erect purple cones. as the road rose rapidly, the vegetation soon began to change: _syringa emodi_, a currant, and other plants of the sub-alpine zone, making their appearance. the most common shrubby plants were _viburnum nervosum_ and _spiræa lindleyana_, both of which occurred in vast quantity. for perhaps a mile and a half, the valley was extremely beautiful; the torrent being rocky and rapid, and the forest very fine. the road then crossed the stream by a good wooden bridge, and a steep ascent commenced. as the forest was confined to the bottom of the valley, i soon emerged on dry grassy slopes. the precipitous nature of the banks rendered it necessary to ascend nearly feet, after which the road was again level along the dry mountain slope facing the south. the bed of the stream rose very rapidly, so that the road soon re-approached it; and when nearly on a level with it, i again entered forest, in which _quercus semecarpifolia_, the alpine oak of himalaya, was the prevailing tree. after about a mile, having attained an elevation of , feet, i encamped on an open grassy spot in the forest. the ravines facing the north had for some time been full of snow, but i had got close to camp before any appeared in those on the right bank, along which the road lay. a snowy peak, the upper part of which was high above the level of trees, lay to the south-east. [sidenote: ascent towards pass. _may, ._] in the lower part of the ascent, the rock was clay-slate; but near my camp it was succeeded by the same gneiss, with large crystals of felspar, which i had found (in boulders) around dadu. in general appearance, this gneiss was very similar to that observed on the mountains north of nasmon, on the chenab; and as these two places have nearly the same relative position as the usual line of strike in the north-western himalaya, it is very probable that the rock is the same in both. on the morning of the st of june, i continued to follow the course of the stream, ascending now very gently. the valley was open, and the road lay over undulating grassy ground, the forest having receded to some distance on both sides. round my camp i had noticed very little in the vegetation different from what was common one or two thousand feet lower; but almost immediately after starting, i found myself among numerous bushes of _rhododendron campanulatum_ in full flower, and many other alpine plants appeared very shortly afterwards: of these, perhaps the most lovely was the elegant _primula rosea_, which was extremely plentiful in hollow marshy spots from which snow had recently melted. [sidenote: pass south of badarwar _june, ._] the ascent continued exceedingly gentle till close to the end, when, turning suddenly to the left into a pine-clad ravine, a few steps brought me to the crest of the ridge over which my road ran,--a lateral spur from the great snowy mass, which (as is often the case) was a good deal lower where it branched off than at a greater distance from the main range. after gaining the crest of the ridge, i followed it for a few hundred yards previous to commencing the descent. i had unfortunately somewhat rashly concluded, the day before, that the ascent during the day would be very trifling, and therefore did not carry with me the means of ascertaining the elevation of the pass; i believe, however, that it a little exceeded , feet. it was still in the forest zone. the trees were mostly the alpine oak, with a few scattered individuals of _pinus excelsa_. at a short distance, on the more shady slope, and still higher than the pass, _picea_ was plentiful. the highest level of trees only rose a few hundred feet above me, and the lofty snowy peak which lay to the southward, attaining a height of probably little under , feet, was quite bare. [sidenote: badarwar. _june, ._] i reached the summit of the ridge between nine and ten a.m., at which time a dense mass of heavy clouds filled the whole of the valley below, while the sky above was perfectly clear. vivid flashes of lightning were seen, accompanied by loud thunder, and the clouds were in violent commotion, being driven about by violent gusts of wind; but in less than half an hour they had entirely disappeared, disclosing a most magnificent view, bounded only by the grand snowy range beyond the chenab, stretching in both directions as far as the eye could reach. much nearer lay a second range of snowy mountains, evidently that which runs parallel to the chenab on the south. still nearer were other ranges of mountains, which, from the elevation at which i stood, looked like gently undulating hills. immediately below, lay the rich and fertile valley of badarwar, to which the descent was extremely rapid, down the face of a projecting spur, densely covered for the upper half of the way with forest. at the top of the pass, there were here and there, on slopes facing the north, large patches of snow, especially under the shade of trees, but on the descent it appeared only in the most shady ravines. as the elevation diminished, the same change in the forest was observed as during the ascent. the alpine oak and spruce gave place to horse-chesnut, sycamore, and holly-leaved oak, with deodar and spruce. lower down, cultivation appeared, and the road, lying on the southern slope of the spin, was generally bare and grassy, with only a few scattered deodar-trees of small size. at the base of the descent, clay-slate rocks replaced the gneiss. the town of badarwar is of considerable size, containing, i should think, not less than from three to four hundred houses, all, however, small and without any indication of wealth. it lies at the elevation of feet, in the upper part of a valley watered by a tributary of the chenab, from which it is distant, according to vigne, twelve or fourteen miles. round the town the valley is two or three miles in width, and completely covered with fields, rising in terraces one above another. some rice is cultivated, but millet and indian corn, neither of which were yet sown, are, i was informed, the principal produce. the vegetation of the valley of badarwar was hardly at all different from that of the one which i had just left, and the few new forms which occurred were for the most part kashmir species. _quercus lanata_, and the trees usually associated with it, did not occur; but _fothergilla_ was plentiful in the woods on the hill-sides, and in open exposed sunny places a kashmir _daphne_ and _zizyphus_ were common: both of these species, however, are natives of the sutlej valley. in the shady ravines a species of _philadelphus_, and the _nima_ of hamilton, were met with. vines were cultivated near the town, as well as a few trees of _populus nigra_, and a rough small-leaved elm, which grew to a gigantic size. from badarwar two roads were open to me, by either of which i could reach chatargarh on the chenab, from which place there is a road into zanskar. one of these follows the course of the badarwar valley to its junction with the chenab, and ascends that river by kishtwar; the other crosses the mountains to the eastward, so as to get into the valley of the ravi, and to join the road which leads from chamba to zanskar. of these i selected the latter, which appeared to present the advantages of being less known, of leading through a more elevated country, and also (as i was led to believe) of saving several days. [sidenote: padri pass. _june, ._] i started from badarwar on the morning of the rd of june, and proceeded up the valley in a south-easterly direction, towards the padri pass, a depression in the range which separates the districts drained by the chenab from those whose waters run towards the ravi. at first the road lay through cultivation. the fields of barley were ripe, those of wheat still green, and considerably more backward than at the same height in valleys more distant from the snow. the elevation of the valley increased gently but steadily, and its breadth gradually diminished as i advanced, the fields becoming reduced to a narrow strip along the bank of the stream, and then ceasing altogether. the road lay on the right bank, and was generally open, but the opposite slopes and ravines were often prettily wooded. after three miles the road began to ascend the hill-sides on the north of the valley, for about a mile gently, but afterwards more steeply. the hill-sides were bare, but on the opposite side of the valley there was a fine forest; and as soon as the road had attained the crest of the ridge or spur, the same dense forest was observed to cover the whole of its steep northern face, stopping abruptly at the top. as the elevation increased, the trees and herbaceous vegetation exhibited the same gradual change which i had noted on the ascent two days before, and i met with very few species which i had not collected at that time. in the shady woods on the northern slope of the ridge, i found the little kashmir _hepatica_, another instance of the extension to the eastward of plants characteristic of that valley. near the top _thermopsis barbata_ was plentiful, in full flower, on open stony banks. the ascent continued steep to the top of the pass, the height of which was , feet. the top was nearly level for some distance, and was covered with large patches of snow. the continuation of the range to the north was undulating and grassy, and the hills of very moderate elevation above the level of the pass. to the southward they rose abruptly to a considerable height, and the ravines were filled with forest. i encamped on a grassy plain close to the top. the morning had been cloudy, and after eleven a.m. it rained smartly till evening; the temperature at sunset was ½°. [sidenote: langera. _june, ._] next morning, before commencing the descent, i ascended a ridge on the mountains to the south, to the height of about feet above the pass. the snow had evidently only just melted from the greater part of the surface; it still lay in large patches under the trees, and the spring plants were just bursting into flower. the forest, as is usually the case at that height, was principally the alpine oak. a rose, willow, currant, cherry, _lonicera_, and _viburnum nervosum_ were bursting into leaf, and _rhododendron campanulatum_ was abundant and in full flower. the greater part of the herbaceous vegetation consisted of _primula denticulata_, a yellow _corydalis_, and species of _thermopsis_, _anemone_, _caltha_, _onosma_, _potentilla_, _valeriana_, _trillium_, and _gentiana_. i continued to ascend to the limit of herbaceous vegetation, stopping only where the ground was uninterruptedly covered with snow. the uppermost level of trees was still at least feet above me. in descending i followed the course of a ravine full of snow, the sides of which were covered by a dense forest of silver fir. after reaching the direct road from the pass, which i had quitted to ascend the hills in the morning, there was a short ascent over a low spur, and then a long and very steep descent, to the bottom of a deep rocky ravine, so narrow and sheltered from the sun's rays, that the stream was still covered with a great thickness of snow. over this i crossed to the north side of the valley, down which the road ran for the remainder of the march, descending at first with great rapidity, but on the latter half much more gently. there was plenty of fine forest, but, as usual, it was for the most part confined to the south side of the valley. the road lay along grassy slopes, sometimes steep and rocky, at other times, where there was any extent of tolerably level ground, covered knee-deep with a rank herbage of dock, _polygona_, thistles, and a variety of other plants not yet in flower. it was in general at a considerable height above the bottom of the valley, which was deep and gloomy, and filled with snow during a great part of the way. i encamped at a village called langera, at the height of about feet, and was surprised to observe large patches of snow still lying on the banks of the stream, at least three hundred feet below me. [sidenote: deghi. _june, ._] on the th of june, my road again lay on the left side of the valley, and usually along the hill-sides at some height above the stream, to which it descended only once or twice. the valley was very pretty, being generally deep and more or less rocky, and on the south side well wooded. for the first three miles, large patches of snow were seen now and then in the most shady parts, more than once covering over the stream. the forest presented a good deal of variety. except _picea_, all the common pines occurred, as well as horse-chesnut, cherry, elm, _celtis_, _populus ciliata_, and holly-leaved oak. _fothergilla_ was very common all along, and on the latter half of the march _quercus lanata_ and _andromeda ovalifolia_ made their appearance. the occurrence of these trees i regarded as a sure indication that the rains were somewhat more heavy than on the west side of the pass, and as a confirmation of the view i had taken when in badarwar, that the climate of that valley was considerably modified by the occurrence of a high and partially snowy range to the eastward. throughout the day's journey there was a good deal of cultivation, always considerably above the stream; and at the village of deghi, at which i encamped, at about feet, the fields of wheat were being cut, clearly showing that the climate was much milder on the east side of the pass than at the same elevation in badarwar, where they had been still quite green two days before. on the th of june, i again followed the course of the valley, at a considerable height on the steep but well-cultivated hill-sides overlooking a deep and pretty glen. the slopes along which the road ran were bare, or covered with scattered brushwood, trees only occurring in ravines, but the opposite bank was usually well wooded. i encamped at a small village called buju (just below feet), considerably higher than the bottom of the valley. the vegetation was in most respects (except the occurrence of _fothergilla_, which was plentiful) what is usual in the neighbourhood of simla, at similar elevations. several species of the sub-tropical belt occurred, mixed with the ordinary plants of the middle zone, such as _marlea_, _albizzia mollis_, _olea cuspidata_, _xanthoxylon_, and others, and in the neighbourhood of buju _pinus longifolia_ was common on the south side of the valley. from badarwar to the summit of the padri pass, and throughout the descent, clay-slate had been the prevailing rock. it varied much in appearance, and latterly it alternated with a conglomerate, and was often very fragile, splitting into thin shaly layers. near the village of dewar, a hard bluish limestone occurred in considerable quantity, close to the river. [sidenote: district of chamba. _june, ._] the general direction of my journey, while descending this valley, had been south-east, the elevation of the mountains on my left hand having been too great to permit me to turn to the north. on this march, however, about three miles from its termination, at a village called dewar, i left the road to chamba, which there crosses the stream and proceeds direct over low hills to the ravi, while the valley (and my road) turned suddenly to the north-east. a little below my camp at buju, the river resumed its former direction, and, uniting itself with a large stream descending from the northward, took a southerly course, to join the ravi. [sidenote: valley north of chamba. _june, ._] along the valley, which descended from the north, ran the road from chamba to chatargarh on the chenab, and on the th i proceeded in that direction. the two streams, at their junction, flowed through an extremely deep rocky ravine, so that i had several fatiguing ascents and descents before i succeeded in passing into the valley which i wished to ascend. i was, however, gratified, at the highest part of the road, where i turned for the first time fairly towards the north, by a superb view of the snowy range, towards which i was now travelling. on the th and th of june (having halted on the th) i continued to ascend the valley, encamping on the latter day at feet. during both days, many parts of the road were very rocky and difficult, with frequent steep ascents. at other times, when it was more level, very long detours were necessary, to pass deep lateral ravines. the valley was in general open, and the hill-sides only sparingly wooded, though at intervals along the stream there was a fine and dense forest of oaks, horse-chesnut, laurels, and _celtis_. the ranges of mountains on both sides were tipped with snow, and from my camp of the th the snowy range in front appeared so close, that i could scarcely give credence to the assurances of my guides that i was still a good day's journey from its base. since i had left jamu, the weather had been very uniform. the mornings were generally fine, with a cloudless sky and little or no wind; towards the afternoon, or if not then, certainly in the evening or during the night, clouds collected, and it rained heavily. this was of daily occurrence; sometimes the rain lasted for several hours, but before morning the sky was always serene. the atmosphere was hazy, as is usually the case in the himalaya during the dry season, before the accession of the rains. [sidenote: alpine vegetation. _june, ._] on the th, i continued to ascend the valley. at the commencement of the march, the hills were bare and open, and the vegetation was still entirely that of the middle zone. there was a good deal of cultivation, and the wheat was still green. after crossing several ravines, the road began to ascend rapidly through a wood of small trees of holly-leaved oak, interspersed with numerous small patches of cultivation. among the corn, _adonis æstivalis_, and a number of other common kashmir weeds, were abundant, and apricot-trees were commonly planted. by degrees, other trees were mingled with the oaks, and the forest became very dense, with luxuriant undergrowth of _indigoferæ_, _spiræa lindleyana_, and _philadelphus_, and a vine was common, climbing up the trunks of the trees. numerous open glades, covered with a luxuriant herbaceous vegetation of dock and other rank plants, were met with in the forest, which, though not so beautiful, a good deal resembled that of mahasu, near simla. on the opposite and shady side of the valley, the forest seemed to be chiefly composed of pines. as the elevation increased, silver fir and alpine oak began to appear, and soon became the only trees in the forest. the ravines were now all full of snow, the oaks were still in flower, and there was little or no vegetation under their shade, except in swampy places, where a bright yellow _caltha_ and a pink _dentaria_ were in full flower. i encamped at , feet, on an open grassy spot overlooking a deep ravine full of snow, which lay between me and the snowy range in front. on emerging from the forest, which extended close to my camp, i found myself surrounded by a truly alpine vegetation. _rhododendron campanulatum_, which is certainly, when _en masse_ and in full flower, the pride of our northern indian mountains in early spring, was in vast abundance and great beauty. the hills around were covered with birch; _rhododendron lepidotum_, _gaultheria trichocarpa_, _deutzia corymbosa_, willows, and many other alpine shrubs, covered the rocks, and the moist grassy sward of the open spots was adorned with the brilliant flowers of _primula denticulata_, _corydalis govaniana_, _gagea_, _caltha_, and other plants. the sky was brilliantly clear, the very heavy rain of the preceding day having, for the time, quite removed the usual haze, and the view from my tent was superb. the last village in the valley was many miles behind, and no cultivation was anywhere in sight. the opposite spurs, which rose, like that on which my tent was pitched, abruptly from the snowy ravine, were beautifully wooded, up to the limit of forest, while all above was covered with snow. [sidenote: ascent towards sach pass. _june, ._] on the th of june, i crossed the snowy range into the valley of the chenab. at starting, the road lay through forest, which covered the precipitous face of the rocky hill overhanging the deep ravine above which i had encamped. after crossing the ravine, which was full of snow, the road ascended a bare steep slope, which was swampy and covered with _caltha_ and _primulæ_. every other part of the face of the hill was occupied by a dense jungle of shrubs, almost impenetrable from the prostrate position which their branches had taken from the pressure of the winter's snow. very stunted bushes of _quercus semecarpifolia_ constituted the greater part of this shrubby jungle. with it grew _rhododendron campanulatum_, a cherry, and a birch, whose silvery trunks rose conspicuous above all the others. this dense covering of shrubs being confined to the lower part of the slope, the road soon rose above its level, and continued obliquely along the face of the bare grassy hill, rising very gently, and by degrees approaching the line of snow. i observed that the line of the highest level of trees varied much according to the exposure, being more elevated on the shady side than on slopes exposed to the sun. the snow level, as might have been expected, was extremely indefinite, varying with the degree of inclination of the surface, with the absence or presence of trees, and especially with the exposure. on the slope facing the south, it was about , feet, while on that opposite it descended among the trees several hundred feet lower. close to the snow, among rocks and in swampy places, the alpine vegetation was extremely luxuriant and beautiful. after skirting the snow for perhaps half a mile, i descended a little to cross a ravine, and immediately after began to ascend rapidly over snow, which was hard and firm, so that it was traversed without difficulty. throughout the whole ascent, there were at intervals steep slopes and masses of rock bare of snow, and even on the smallest of these spots vegetation was making rapid progress, under the encouragement of a powerful sun and abundant moisture. the plants observed were all alpine: among the number were several _primulæ_, and species of _draba_, _potentilla_, _sibbaldia_, _ranunculus_, and _pedicularis_. the ascent continued steady to the top of the pass, which was a mass of bare rock, quite free of snow, and elevated , feet. the pass (the name of which is _sach joth_) was a deep depression in the crest of the range, which rose on both sides to a considerable height. the ridge was a mass of black slate rock, in highly inclined strata, on which no snow lay, and which absorbed so much heat from the sun, that a number of minute plants were not only vegetating but in full flower. _primula minutissima_ and a yellow _draba_ were common, and a little _ranunculus_ and _potentilla_, with one moss and a species of lichen, also occurred more sparingly. the view from the pass was extensive to the southward, but to the north entirely intercepted by lofty precipitous ridges, distant not more than a mile. the morning had been beautiful, but before i reached the summit, a high wind had sprung up from the south, drifting heavy watery clouds over the crest, from which there were slight showers of hail. [sidenote: descent into the valley of the chenab. _june, ._] the descent on the north side was over snow, commencing a few feet from the rocky crest of the pass. after the first few hundred yards, the snow-bed was very steep, and perhaps covered a small glacier. further on, the mountains on both sides closed in so as to form a narrow valley, the course of which i followed for many miles, before i could find a bare spot upon which to encamp. the valley was bounded on both sides by exceedingly steep rocky mountains, sometimes quite precipitous, which soon became bare of snow. after descending rapidly for a considerable time, patches of juniper appeared on the hill-sides, succeeded by birch, and soon after by a few pines, which, from their shape, were, i believe, silver fir. a little lower, pines became frequent wherever the mountain-sides were not absolutely precipitous; _picea_ and _pinus_ excelsa were first recognized, and a little lower down _abies smithiana_; deodar did not appear till i had nearly reached the end of the day's journey. i encamped at feet, on the first available bare spot, among a few pine-trees. from the summit of the pass till within a few hundred yards of my encampment, snow was continuous in the valley along which i descended, covering the stream and the whole of the level portion of the valley for many miles after it had melted from the steep sloping hills on both sides, on which vegetation was already making rapid progress. this snow-bed was not in the least icy, but consisted of pure snow, much compressed and often dirty. its slope followed that of the valley, and its surface was quite smooth till close to its termination, where it was broken up into fragments by the fall of portions into the stream below. the greater permanence of snow in valleys and ravines than on mountain slopes seems to be due to its accumulation there during the winter to a great depth by avalanches from both sides. footnotes: [ ] i have been told by dr. jameson that he has met with it in the kangra hills, but that he has never seen it in mandi. chapter xii. marked change in the vegetation -- bridge over chenab -- pargwal -- description of chenab valley -- asdhari -- chatargarh -- road turns up valley of butna -- vegetation of chenab valley -- chishot -- snow-beds -- camp at , feet -- ancient moraines -- glacier -- camp at , feet -- rapid ascent along glacier -- camp on moraine, at , feet -- change of weather -- ascent towards pass over glacier -- cross umasi la -- descent -- immense glacier -- encamp in tibet, at , feet -- open valley of zanskar -- padum -- great change of climate -- and in vegetation. as a great part of my baggage and some of my servants did not reach camp till after dark, in the evening of the th of may, i halted on the th. i was encamped in a very narrow valley, on both sides of which lofty mountains rose very abruptly. the spurs which projected into this ravine were all of very peculiar configuration, their northern face being uniformly quite precipitous, while to the south, though still steep, they were green and sloping. i ascended on the southern slope of the spur, nearest to my tent, to a height of perhaps feet, without obtaining any extensive view of the valley of the chenab, though i afterwards found that i was not more than two miles in a direct line from that river, but that the rocky mountains right and left, retaining their elevation till they were close to it, completely interrupted the view in every direction, except directly down the ravine, where a small portion of the snow-topped mountains beyond the river was visible. [sidenote: vegetation of chenab valley. _june, ._] from the great elevation of the mountains which i had just crossed, i was prepared to find a marked change in the aspect of the vegetation, and i was not disappointed. the steep slopes were covered with a most luxuriant herbage, above two feet in height. a tall panicled _rheum_ was very common, and numerous _umbelliferæ_, _silene inflata_, _geranium_, and _pteris aquilina_ were abundant. the most remarkable plant, however, from the extreme quantity in which it occurred, was an asphodelaceous plant (_eremurus_, bieb.), the long scapes of which, from four to five feet in height, covered the hill-sides in countless myriads. these scapes were clothed, for nearly half their length, with a profusion of elegant white flowers, very slightly tinged with a pale yellowish green. i met, during the day, with most of the characteristic plants of the kunawar flora; as instances, i may mention _ephedra_, _dictamnus_, _rosa webbiana_, _dianthus_, and _scutellaria orientalis_. the arboreous vegetation was much the same as on the other side of the pass. the right side of the ravine was well clothed with pines, of all the four ordinary species; the left side was usually bare, the northern faces of the spurs, which are generally wooded, being too precipitous, but in the hollows there were a few small clumps of trees, principally pine, walnut, and sycamore. [sidenote: valley of chenab _june, ._] on the th of june i resumed my journey. the ravine in front was pronounced by my guides impracticable, and, as i afterwards saw, not without reason, as it gained the chenab by running down an almost precipitous rocky slope between and feet in height. the road ascended the steep hills to the right rather abruptly, inclining to the north at the same time, till it gradually wound round the northern angle of the mountain range which formed the side of the ravine, when i found myself looking down on the valley of the chenab from a height of about feet above the bed of the river. unfortunately the day was foggy, with a light drizzling rain, or no doubt the view would have been magnificent. after rounding this rocky angle, the road ran parallel to the chenab, but in a direction contrary to its course, and continued to rise very gently among shady forests, with scattered patches of snow. i conjectured at the time that an immediate descent was prevented by precipices below; and i afterwards ascertained from the opposite side of the river that such was the case. after about a mile and a half an extremely abrupt descent commenced, at first through dense forest, but afterwards among numerous fields and scattered houses, constituting a large village between and feet in elevation. fruit-trees were abundant, principally walnut, of which there were many magnificent trees. the crops of wheat were not yet in ear. [sidenote: pargwal _june, ._] below the village lands the road entered a forest of deodar, and continued to descend rapidly. the deodars continued nearly to the river, a few hundred feet only at the lowest part being covered with high brushwood, principally consisting of _fothergilla_. the chenab (or chandrabhaga, as it is always called in the mountains) is a noble-looking, rapid stream, running through a deep rocky channel. it is crossed at a considerable height above the water by a good and substantial wooden bridge, from which the course of the valley could be seen both up and down, to a considerable distance; and in both directions the river flows between lofty ranges of mountains, generally very rocky and precipitous, and often finely wooded. i did not determine the elevation of the bed of the river, but believe that it may safely be stated to be about feet. after crossing the chenab the road ascended very abruptly to the village of pargwal, in which i encamped, at an elevation of about feet. on the lower part of the ascent the forest was much more luxuriant than on the opposite side, and than it usually is on slopes facing the south: this was caused by the great depth and narrowness of the ravine through which the river flowed. this day's march was rendered unpleasant by rain, which commenced about seven a.m., and continued to fall steadily till near sunset; the sky being completely overcast, and the day nearly calm. it was, however, very gentle, so that the quantity which fell during the day was beyond a doubt much less than would have fallen with constant rain for an equal length of time in the outer ranges of mountains, where no snowy range is interposed to stop the rain-clouds. it did not rain again while i continued in the valley; still one day's experience would of itself be quite insufficient to warrant any conclusion, were it not that the inhabitants describe the climate as tolerably dry. their account is, that the rains continue lightly at intervals for about a month from the middle of june, after which they cease entirely. i have already pointed out that the climate of lower kunawar is precisely the same in character, and these two valleys are equally similar in situation with respect to the mountain ranges. [sidenote: description of chenab valley. _june, ._] i had reached the chenab at a point a good deal higher up than chatargarh, from which place the most frequented road into the zanskar valley turns to the north. there is, i believe, another pass a good deal more to the eastward, the road to which leaves the chenab not far from the place where i crossed it; but i was informed that it is at all times extremely difficult, and that the season was still too early to attempt it. i therefore proceeded, on the th and th of june, down the right bank of the chenab, through an exceedingly mountainous country, and generally at a great height above the stream, but with frequent descents to cross lateral torrents. the mountains to the north were generally crested with snow, and dipped very abruptly to the river. the north-west face of each ridge was invariably precipitous, so that all the descents along the road were abrupt, rocky, and difficult. many villages were met with in the valley, and much cultivation usually high up on the sides of the mountains. poplars (_p. nigra_ and _alba_) and apricots were commonly planted, but the favourite fruit-tree seemed to be the walnut. i did not see any vines cultivated. on both days the scenery was extremely fine, varying with every turn of the valley; at times the view from the top of the scarped precipices, which were frequent, was of the grandest possible description. the south side of the valley, where not absolutely precipitous, was covered with forest, most frequently of pine; and on the north side, on which the road lay, though the upper parts were often bare and grassy, or only covered with brushwood, yet the banks of the river were usually well wooded, and all the ravines, which were deep and shady, were filled with a dense forest of deodar, horse-chesnut, hazel, sycamore, birch, and _fothergilla_, with many other trees. _pinus gerardiana_, which may be looked upon as more characteristic of a moderately dry climate than any other tree, inasmuch as it will not flourish where the rains are at all heavy, was extremely common. on the th a great part of the road lay through an extensive wood, of a species of oak (_q. ilex_), which i had only before seen in kunawar, where it is not uncommon. on the th i encamped at the village of asdhari, at an elevation of feet, and nearly feet above the river. on the th my halting-place was shol, a large village close to the chenab, with an extensive tract of cultivation, quite bare of trees, except a few cherries. the elevation of my tent was here about feet: it was not more than fifty feet above the river. opposite the village, on the south bank of the river, under a cliff which screened it from the rays of the sun, there was a very large patch of snow. [sidenote: chatargarh. _june, ._] the early part of my march of the th was still along the chenab, through fine shady forest, for about three miles, rising to the height of about feet, and again descending close to the water's edge. the road then continued nearly on a level with the stream, and became very rocky and difficult, planks of wood or rough bridges being laid in some places from rock to rock to effect a passage. below this narrow rocky part of the channel the valley widened out on the north side into an open sandy plain, watered by a large tributary stream, descending from the north. close to this stream lay the small fort of chatargarh, the residence of the thannadar of the valley, and of a small garrison of soldiers. the butna, which here joins the chenab, and up which my road lay, is a large impetuous stream. i crossed it a short way above the fort, by a good bridge, and, following its right bank for about two miles through oak forest, encamped at the village of liundi. the flora of the valley of the chenab, as far as my road lay along it, continued to agree in most respects with that of kunawar. as i descended the river, there were some indications of an approach to the vegetation of the outer himalaya; but the number of species belonging to that flora which appeared was not great. a _zizyphus_ common in the lower sutlej and in kashmir, the common pomegranate, and a shrubby _desmodium_, were those noted. this gradual transition in the character of the vegetation occurs equally in kunawar; and as both the sutlej and the chenab commence their course in an arid climate, and enter the plains under the full influence of the rains, it is quite in accordance with what might be expected to happen. the change is in both valleys extremely gradual, and appears to be directly proportional to the diminished elevation of the mountains which run parallel to the rivers on the south.[ ] [sidenote: butna valley. _june, ._] on the th of june my road again lay up the valley of the butna, usually close to the stream, partly through bare country, with scattered bushes of _zizyphus_ and _daphne_, but mostly through very beautiful forest of oak, alder, horse-chesnut, and ash. the river varied much in character; but for the most part it flowed with great rapidity over a rocky channel, and in one place formed a cataract of some size. more than once, however, and always above the most rapid parts, it was tranquil, though still swift, and flowed between gravelly islands. the hills on both sides were steep and lofty, and after the first two miles, patches of snow occurred in every ravine. i passed several villages and a good deal of cultivation, and encamped at chishot, at about feet above the level of the sea. [sidenote: ascent of butna valley. _june, ._] next day, at starting, the road lay through pine-forests for about two miles, the elevation rapidly increasing. at about that distance, there was a very long rapid or cataract, with a fall of several hundred feet within a space of or yards. at the lower end of the rapid, the river disappeared under a snow-bed, which formed an arch across it from bank to bank. above, the stream was wide and tranquil, and the pine-forest ceasing, the road entered an open valley, with much cultivation around the village of himor. along the water-courses by which the lands of this village were irrigated, there was a good deal of swampy ground, in which grew _parnassia_, _polygonum viviparum_, an _orchis_ not unlike _o. latifolia_, a _triglochin_, and some _carices_, all kunawar species. beyond the village, the valley continued open and bare, but was very rocky, and covered with large boulders. there was no wood, except in the ravines, which were occupied by groves of poplar (_p. ciliata_) and walnut; a few trees of the same and of birch being scattered over the hill-sides. no oak or gerard's pine was seen during the day. the herbaceous vegetation on the open sunny banks was very luxuriant, and the species were mostly the same as i have recorded in a similar situation, and at the same elevation, on the th, after descending from the sach pass. i must except the _eremurus_, then so abundant, which was here entirely wanting. there were also a few novelties. large tracts were covered with a tall fern (_pteris aquilina_?). after passing through the cultivated lands of a second village, and crossing some snow-beds, the road entered a wood of stunted deodars, and, turning to the left, proceeded up the more northerly of two ravines, into which the valley here divided. that to the south, which in direction was a continuation of the valley, was filled with forest, but the one up which the road turned was steep and stony, and contained only a few scattered trees of birch, hazel, and poplar. after a march of about eight miles, i encamped on an open level spot, where there were a few fields, and one or two huts, at present uninhabited, at an elevation of , feet. [sidenote: view of the glacier. _june, ._] on the th, i proceeded further up the same valley, ascending gently but steadily. the valley was open and bounded on both sides by steep rocky mountains, those on the right partially wooded with birch, on the other side quite bare. behind, beyond the point from which i had the day before turned abruptly to the left, rose a lofty snowy peak, very steep and rocky; in front, only a very small portion of the snowy range which i was rapidly approaching could be seen. the stream was for the most part covered with snow, and the road crossed numerous snow-beds. at first, the hill-sides were rounded and covered with vegetation, but very soon the road became rocky, and was covered as yesterday with enormous boulders, evidently indicative of a former glacier. these were all gneiss, which rock also occurred _in situ_, as had been the case ever since i had left chatargarh, where it replaced the clay-slate, which had been common on the banks of the chenab. after walking for about two miles among these huge masses of rock, i suddenly emerged into open country, and, after descending a few feet, entered a level plain, nearly two miles in length and at least half a mile in width, partly covered with snow stretching down from the ravines on each side. this plain appeared to have been at one time the bed of a small lake; and as its lower end was crossed by an evident moraine, it seems probable that a glacier had at some former period crossed the valley and dammed up the channel of the stream. small groves of willow of two distinct species, one twelve to fifteen feet high, the other not above two or three, were scattered over this plain. the surface, where free from snow, was usually grassy, and near the lower end very swampy. the snow had evidently very recently covered the whole surface, as few plants were yet in flower, except a bright blue gentian in the marshy parts, and a viscid _cerastium_ on the gravel. a species of rhubarb was abundant on the banks surrounding this plain, and its acid leaf-stalks were eagerly eaten by the men who carried my luggage. the road traversed the whole length of this level tract, and, at its upper end, crossed two low ridges of boulders, evidently moraines. beyond these lay another plain, much more barren and desolate-looking than the previous one, the greater part being still covered with snow. those parts from which the snow had melted were gravelly, with scarce a vestige of vegetation. i encamped on the last bare spot of this plain, close to extensive snow-beds, from below which the stream flowed, and about a mile from the end of a large glacier which filled up the end of the valley, but was cut off abruptly at the commencement of the open plain. the elevation of my tent was , feet. the plain on which i was encamped was surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains, all extremely steep and rugged. those to the south and east were covered with snow to the very base, but to the north little or no snow was visible, the hills close at hand rising so abruptly that they entirely excluded the view of the ranges behind. the southern slopes from the base to the height of about feet were covered with birch-trees, still quite leafless, except a few on the edge of the plain, which were beginning to throw out buds, the snow having melted round their roots. on the st of june i continued my journey over the snow-bed close to which i had encamped, in the direction of the end of the glacier. while still several hundred yards distant from it, the road turned abruptly to the left, ascending a very steep stony hill, which formed the side of a lateral ravine descending from the north. when i had ascended a few hundred feet, i obtained an excellent view of the glacier which occupied the valley below. its surface, from the great slope of the valley, was extremely irregular, and to all appearance quite impassable, from the numerous fissures which traversed it in every direction, and the irregular pinnacles of ice which rose above its surface. it was terminated abruptly by a perpendicular cliff, which projected more in the centre than on the sides, and was much and deeply fissured both horizontally and perpendicularly. the glacier was in parts covered with masses of boulders and gravel, on which lay a sprinkling of snow in small patches. the lateral moraines were well marked, being much higher than the surface of the glacier, and separated by a deep fissure from the rocky wall of the valley. immediately in front of the termination of the glacier, the surface of the plain was free from snow; numerous boulders of large size were scattered over it, and large masses of ice, evidently fragments of the glacier, lay among them. [sidenote: ascent towards bardar pass. _june, ._] the ascent of the lateral ravine continued steep, sometimes over rock, often over what appeared to be an ancient moraine, and now and then over grassy sward, adorned with numerous alpine plants in full flower. among these was a little _iris_, which i had seen the day before in fruit, _podophyllum_, _fritillaria_, and a pretty rose-coloured _pedicularis_. there were a few stunted bushes of birch on the first part of the ascent, but they were soon left behind. after ascending about feet, i passed a singular-looking little circular plain, perhaps half a mile in diameter, still covered with snow. the road lay on the left of this plain over a hill of boulders. it now ascended very rapidly, and soon reached another glacier, the termination of which was extremely oblique, being prolonged much further on the right or south-east side of the ravine than on the other. the slope of the valley was so extremely abrupt, that the surface of the glacier was fissured in a most extraordinary manner; and it was still partially covered with snow. the road ascended over the moraine which lay between the glacier and the wall of the valley, generally at a great height above the level of the ice. in the crevices of the stones one or two plants still lingered: _primula minutissima_ was in flower, and a little _sedum_ and a dwarf willow (_s. repens_, l.) were beginning to expand their buds. my day's march amounted to about five miles, and i encamped upon the moraine on a level piece of ground just large enough to hold my tent, and close to the glacier. the temperature of boiling water indicated an elevation of about , feet. all around was snow and ice, except one steep sloping bank facing the south, on the most sheltered corner of which my baggage porters established themselves. on this bank vegetation had already made considerable progress: at least a dozen species were in flower, of which the most abundant were a rose-coloured _polygonum_, a _potentilla_, and _ranunculus_, and, most abundant of all, a beautiful blue _gymnandra_. the surface of the glacier opposite to my tent was much covered with debris, and many large boulders were imbedded in the ice, which was very much fissured, rising into sharp pinnacles. as the day advanced, it was traversed by numerous rills of water, and the sound of falling stones was heard in every direction. i had hitherto been extremely fortunate in weather, considering the season; but just at sunset, a few light clouds having first appeared in the south horizon, the sky became suddenly overcast, and light snow began to fall. very little fell during the night, but at daybreak on the nd of june, just as i was preparing to start, it began to snow rather heavily. i had unfortunately no choice but to proceed. the place in which i was encamped was not at all adapted for a resting-place during a heavy fall of snow; and arrangements had already been made for the relief of the baggage porters who had come with me, by a party of zanskaries at the top of the pass on this day. [sidenote: large glacier. _june, ._] the first part of the ascent lay up the moraine parallel to the glacier, and was extremely steep for nearly feet of perpendicular elevation, up to the top of the very abrupt ravine in which i had been encamped. beyond this, the valley widened considerably; and as its slope was now very gentle, the glacier was quite smooth, and the path lay over its surface, which was covered by a considerable layer (five or six inches) of last winter's snow, as well as by a sprinkling of that which had fallen during the night. the ice was a good deal fissured, but in general the fissures were not more than a few inches in width; a few only were as much as two feet. the road continued for two or three miles over the surface of the glacier, which gradually widened out as i advanced. its upper part was expanded into an icy plain of great width, bounded by a semicircular arch of precipitous rocks, except where three ravines descended into it, down which three narrow glaciers flowed to contribute a supply of ice to the vast mass in the bay. on the smooth ice below, central moraines were very visible, and could be distinctly traced to the rocks by which the three smaller glaciers were separated. a great part of these central moraines were covered with snow; but now and then an immense detached boulder of gneiss was seen, supported by a column of clear blue ice, veined with horizontal white bands, by which it was raised high above the surface of the glacier, and the snow which covered it. [sidenote: summit of pass. _june, ._] the three branches which united to form this grand sea of ice were very steep, and consequently much fissured and fractured. the road lay up that to the right, ascending by the moraine to the left of the glacier, the surface of the ice being quite impracticable. this ascent, which i estimated at the time to amount to at least feet, was exceedingly steep and laborious, as beneath a thin layer of fresh snow it was covered with hard frozen snow, on which the footing was quite insecure. on attaining the summit of this steep ascent, i found the surface of the glacier much more smooth, the inclination of the bed of the ravine having suddenly changed; it was now, however, covered with a layer of snow several feet thick, which probably tended to render small inequalities of surface unobservable. i was now in a wide valley or basin, the rocky hills on both sides rising precipitously to a height of from to feet above the level of the snow. after perhaps two miles of gradual ascent, these rocky walls gradually closing in united in a semicircle in front, and the road passed through a gorge or fissure in the ridge, to the crest of which the snow-bed had gradually sloped up. this fissure, which was not more than two feet in width, was the pass, but when i reached it, snow was falling so thickly that i could not see ten yards in any direction. i therefore remained only long enough to ascertain that the boiling-point of water was · °, indicating an elevation of at least , feet. the commencement of the descent was very rapid down a narrow gorge, into which the fissure at the top widened by degrees. the fresh snow, which had fallen to the depth of at least a foot, was quite soft and yielding, so that great caution was required. after four or five hundred yards, the slope became more gradual and the ravine considerably wider. the road was now evidently over the surface of a glacier. the mountains on both sides were extremely rocky, rugged, and precipitous. each lateral ravine brought an additional stream of ice to swell that in the central one; and on each lateral glacier there was a moraine which had to be crossed. further on, the slope again increasing, the road left the surface of the glacier, and ascended the moraine by its side. this was at first covered with deep snow, both old and fresh; but as i advanced i found the old snow only in patches, but covered with a layer of new. at last i reached a point at which the snow melted as it fell, and not long after the glacier stopped abruptly, a considerable stream issuing from beneath the perpendicular wall by which it terminated. [sidenote: immense glacier. _june, ._] beyond the end of the glacier the valley continued very steep. it was several hundred feet across, and covered with loose stones of various sizes, over which the stream ran in a wide shallow channel. lower down, the bed of the rivulet became contracted and rocky, and i crossed to its right bank over a natural bridge consisting of one large stone, ten or twelve feet long, which had fallen so as to lie across the rocky channel. advancing a few paces beyond this bridge, i suddenly found myself at the end of the ravine, and overlooking a wide valley many hundred feet below, filled by an enormous glacier descending from the left. this glacier was completely covered with a mass of debris, which entirely concealed the ice, and from its enormous dimensions must have had a very distant source. i had no means at the time of determining with accuracy either its width or depth, nor do i find any estimate of it (except in superlatives) in my notes made on the spot; i cannot, therefore, at this distance of time, venture to give any exact dimensions: i can only say that it much exceeded in size any that i have before or since had an opportunity of seeing. it was just at the termination of the upper ravine that the first traces of vegetation were observed: till reaching this point the rocks and gravel had been quite bare. the first plant observed was _primula minutissima_; the only other in flower was a large purple-coloured _crucifera_ (a species of _parrya_), but leaves of several others were beginning to expand. [sidenote: zanskar. _june, ._] the road did not descend at once into the large valley, but, turning abruptly to the right, ran parallel to the glacier but high above it on the rocky mountain-side, for nearly a mile, gradually descending so as to reach the bottom of the valley just as the glacier ended. the valley beyond its termination was wide and stony, and i encamped among a number of very large boulders about half a mile further on. the elevation of my camp was , feet, so that i had descended upwards of feet from the top of the pass. i found that the inhabitants on the two sides of the pass knew it by different names, those of padar, on the south, calling it the bardar pass, while to the zanskaries it is known as umasi la. the morning of the rd of june was bright and clear, but intensely frosty. the valley in which i was encamped was enclosed by lofty mountains covered with much snow, though on the level ground there were only a few patches. the road lay down the valley, which soon became narrow and stony, and the descent somewhat rapid. the ground was at first quite bare, and devoid of any sort of vegetation, except here and there on the bank of the stream, where, close to the water's edge, a small patch of green was occasionally to be seen. the narrowest parts of the ravine were occupied by large snow-beds, entirely covering the rivulet, but at intervals the valley widened out into a gravelly plain. after about a mile, some vegetation began to appear, and after four or five miles it became plentiful. the banks of the stream, in the wide and gravelly parts, were fringed with dwarf willows just bursting into leaf. _primula minutissima_ was plentiful in the crevices of the stones, and i met with many plants scattered about, of which none but the very earliest were yet in flower. two or three species only could be identified with the plants of the indian side of the pass; the majority were quite different. _lithospermum euchromon_ of royle, and the _parrya_ first seen the day before, were among the commonest species; several other _cruciferæ_ were also seen, as well as a _gentiana_, one or two _astragali_, a species of _meconopsis_, a small _gagea_, _ephedra_, and _nepeta glutinosa_. species of _artemisia_, _cynoglossum_ and other _boragineæ_, of _polygonum_ and _rheum_, though not in flower, were recognizable, but the greater number of plants were only beginning to vegetate. as i descended, a few shrubs of _lonicera hispida_ and of _rosa webbiana_ (the tibet rose) were met with, but all very stunted. [sidenote: valley of zanskar. _june, ._] the valley continued to descend, and the snow soon receded to some distance up the mountain-sides. at last i came to a single habitation, a little monastery inhabited by one lama, and built under the precipitous rocks on the left side of the valley. a very small patch of cultivation lay on the bank of the stream just below it; the corn was not more than two or three inches high. a little further on, the road suddenly turned into a much larger and more open valley, watered by a considerable stream, which ran through a wide, open, gravelly channel, from which long and very slightly inclined gravelly slopes extended on both sides to the base of the mountains. the stream proved to be the western branch of the zanskar river. to the north-westward of the point where i entered its valley, its upward course was visible for eight or ten miles, all the way through an open gravelly plain. several villages and a good deal of cultivation were seen in that direction, on the slopes descending from the mountains. my road lay to the eastward down the valley, partly through cultivated lands, partly over barren gravelly or stony plains, and often over grassy meadows on the banks of the river. wheat, barley, and peas were the crops cultivated, all only a few inches in height. round the fields and on the banks of the water-courses a luxuriant herbage was beginning to spring up, which contrasted strongly with the sterility of the stony plains. the fields were quite flat and generally unenclosed, the valley being too level to require terracing; small canals conducted water for irrigation to every field. the villages were all small and bare, and during the day i saw only a single tree--a small poplar--in a garden or enclosure at one of the last villages through which i passed, before halting for the day. i encamped, after a march of at least twelve miles, near the village of markim, on a fine grassy plain close to the river, the banks of which were lined by a few bushes of _myricaria_ and _hippophaë_. the elevation of my tent was , feet. in the valley of the chenab the prevailing rock had everywhere been clay-slate, but where i turned up the valley of the butna it was replaced by gneiss, which continued to form the whole mountain-mass on both sides of the umasi pass, so far as i could infer the nature of their structure from the boulders brought down by glaciers. on the earlier part of this day's journey, the gneiss gave place again to mica-slate and clay-slate; but in the wide valley, where no rock was seen _in situ_, the boulders were all composed of gneiss, and had probably, therefore, been transported from the upper part of the mountains. [sidenote: padum. _june, ._] on the th of june i continued my journey to padum, which is considered the capital of zanskar. my road lay still east, down a wide, open plain. the mountains on the north side of the valley were not to appearance very lofty, and were merely tipped with snow; those to the south were much higher and had a great deal of snow, which, however, did not come within perhaps feet of the plain. there was no snow in the plain itself, which had a width of from two to four miles. cultivated tracts were frequent, occurring wherever water was easily procurable for irrigation, but the greater part of the surface was dry, barren, and stony, producing scarcely any herbage. the river ran through a wide, gravelly bed, and was divided into numerous channels. it was often fringed with low jungle of _myricaria_ and _hippophaë_, two shrubs which, though not entirely confined to tibet, are most abundant in every part of that country up to nearly , feet, in the gravelly beds of streams. in some places the banks of the stream were very low and swampy, and covered with turf. about half-way down the plain the different branches of the river united into one, which ran with a swift impetuous current over the boulders which formed its bed, the melting of the snow on the mountains having brought down a very large body of water. at this point it was crossed by a rope-bridge, leading to a large village on the left bank. a little further on i passed through a considerable village, with extensive cultivated lands, and a large well-built monastery, in which, i believe, csoma de körös resided while in zanskar. the road then made a considerable detour to the south, to the base of the mountains, to reach a bridge over a lateral stream now so much swollen as to be unfordable. after crossing this stream by a good wooden bridge, the road entered an open grassy plain sloping imperceptibly from the mountains towards the river, at the south-east angle of which lay the town or village of padum. padum, which was at one time the principal place in zanskar, is, though now much decayed, still considered as such, probably both from its central situation and from the garrison of gulab singh's troops being established near it. it is built on a low hill lying at the south-east corner of a wide open plain which surrounds the junction of two large streams which here unite to form the zanskar river. of these, one descending from the south runs through a rocky and barren country, which contains, i was informed, but few and small villages. it is that to which moorcroft, who crossed it near its source, has given the name of zanskar; and as it appears to the eye the larger stream of the two, it will probably be found entitled to retain the name, although the district watered by the western branch, which runs gently through an open country, is much more fertile and populous. the junction of these two streams takes place four or five miles north of padum. the plain is partly low and partly a platform nearly a hundred feet above the level of the rivers. [sidenote: climate of zanskar. _june, ._] entirely secluded by lofty ranges of snowy mountains from the approach of any moisture-bringing winds, the valley of zanskar has an absolutely tibetan climate. tree vegetation is entirely wanting, and the mountains and plains are dry, barren, and desolate. at the same time, from the dryness of the summer, the powerful influence of the sun induces here, as elsewhere in tibet, a much milder climate than prevails at an equal elevation within the influence of the periodical rains, for in no part of the indian portion of the mountains does any cultivated valley exist at an elevation of , feet above the level of the sea. the extent of open country is more considerable in this portion of the zanskar valley than elsewhere in the basin of the indus. villages also are frequent, particularly in the lower part, and the cultivated lands of many of them are extensive. the alluvial platforms are of great extent, and so nearly level, that no terracing is required for purposes of irrigation. on this account, and from the total want of fences, the appearance of the plain is remarkable, and very different from that usual around tibetan villages. at the period of my visit, the crops were only a few inches in height, and the whole population were busy in the fields, irrigating them and keeping out straggling cattle. the inhabitants, in appearance, manners, and mode of life, are the same as those of ladak; their language and religion too are the same, as far as i could learn. [sidenote: vegetation of zanskar. _june, ._] the change of climate was, as a matter of course, accompanied by an almost total change of vegetation, which had assumed entirely the tibetan character. scarcely more than a fourth, on a rough estimate, of the species observed, were the same as grew on the indian side of the pass. of these, a very few were cosmopolitan or widely-diffused plants. such were _thymus serpyllum_, _plantago asiatica_, _taraxacum_, _veronica biloba_, _medicago lupulina_, and _polygonum aviculare_ or a closely-allied species. the greater number were species of the dry climate, which, from being capable of bearing a certain quantity of moisture, vegetate also in the first valleys on the opposite side of the pass, though quite incapable of living under the full influence of the rains: as instances, i may mention _rosa webbiana_, _myricaria_, _hippophaë_, _ephedra_, _aquilegia moorcroftiana_, and several _astragali_. excluding both these classes, more than two-thirds of the plants were entirely different from those which flourish on the indian side. the season was early spring, so that a great part of the vegetation was still dormant, but it was making rapid strides under the influence of a powerful sun, particularly in the neighbourhood of the town of padum, which appeared to be the warmest nook in the valley. the dry, barren tracts, which constitute the greater part of the surface, produced numerous, generally dwarf species of _boragineæ_ and _cruciferæ_. three _potentillæ_ were common, one of them _p. anserina_. near the river there was a more luxuriant vegetation. rank species of _heracleum_, _astragalus_, _scrophularia_, _matthiola_, and _eurotia_ were coming into flower under the shelter of walls and bushes. in richer soil a species of _hyoscyamus_, with pale yellow trumpet-shaped flowers (_belenia_ of decaisne), was common, while around the fields grew species of _geranium_, _cynoglossum_, _nepeta_, and _astragalus_. except a little _poa_, no grasses were yet in flower, but several small _cyperaceæ_ formed dense patches of turf. the meadows close to the edge of the river were invariably swampy, and had a peculiar vegetation of their own, consisting of two species of _triglochin_, a white-flowered _taraxacum_, a little _primula_, _ranunculus cymbalaria_, and _glaux_, with _hippuris_ and _utricularia_ in the pools of water. footnotes: [ ] a species of vine was very common in the forests, climbing to a great height on the trees, which very closely resembled the common cultivated vine, from which it is not, i think, specifically distinct. at the same time, my specimens are scarcely distinguishable from _vitis indica_, l., a species of the plains of india, not uncommon in hot jungles, even at a considerable distance from the foot of the mountains. chapter xiii. rope bridge across zanskar river -- tongde -- zangla -- road leaves zanskar river -- takti la -- nira -- bridge over zanskar river -- singhi la -- phutaksha -- wandla -- lama yuru -- cross indus river -- kalatze -- nurla -- saspola -- nimo -- le -- pass north of le -- small glacier -- kardong -- kalsar -- vegetation -- diskit -- passage of shayuk river -- upper nubra -- vegetation of nubra -- hot spring at panamik. [sidenote: tongde. _june, ._] i remained at padum two days, to make inquiries as to the road and arrangements for porters and supplies. on the th of june, i commenced my journey towards the indus. the road lay down the valley of zanskar, crossing the eastern branch of that river opposite the town of padum, by a rather insecure-looking rope-bridge, high above the stream, which was deep, rapid, and muddy. the rope, as is usual in tibet, was formed of willow twigs. after crossing this bridge, i followed the right bank of the stream in a north-easterly direction, principally over dry, desert, stony plains, considerably elevated above the river. these high banks were composed of fine clay, which was occasionally quite pure, but more frequently contained numerous fragments of a black slate rock. these were especially abundant where lateral ravines descended from the mountains, while in the intervening spaces the clay was comparatively free of them. the same black slate cropped out _in situ_ in several places along the bank of the river; and from the numerous boulders everywhere scattered over the surface of the platform, it appeared to be the prevailing rock in the mountains on the right. the platforms usually terminated abruptly, being either scarped or sloping very steeply towards the river. a strip of low, wet, grassy ground, which was more or less covered with _hippophaë_ jungle, was generally interposed between the cliffs and the river. when this was absent, the steep slopes were barren till close to the water's edge. on the left bank of the river, after the first two miles, the table-land sank, an extensive low plain forming a tongue of land between the two branches. on this low land, close to the eastern river, and about two miles from the town of padum, lay the fort occupied by the military force of the valley: a small square, with four round bastions. after marching nine or ten miles, i encamped at a small village called tongde, among undulating clay hills, by which the view of the river and valley was excluded. nearly opposite, a mile or two below the junction of the two rivers, was karsha, at present the largest town in zanskar: it lies in a ravine at a considerable distance from the river, and, from the steepness of the slope on which it is built, presents rather an imposing appearance. the level tract intervening between the town and the river was covered with cultivation. [sidenote: zangla. _june, ._] on the th, i continued along the valley, but in a more northerly direction than the day before. the lofty snowy range to the south-west was now finely seen, forming a semicircle of rocky peaks behind padum. the road lay again over dry plains, partly stony, partly hard clay; even the banks of the river were dry and stony, without a vestige of turf. the only species worthy of note which occurred during the day, in addition to the plants common on these barren tracts, was _oxytropis chiliophylla_: it was very scarce at the beginning of the march, but before i had reached half-way it had become so abundant that at a distance the ground appeared of a bright red colour, from the immense abundance of its flowers. several villages were passed on the road, and two considerable streams, both of which had excavated deep ravines in the loose conglomerate of which the plateau was formed. on the latter part of the march, the mountains which formed the right side of the valley approached close to the river, leaving no passage along the bank, so that the road made a short steep ascent over loose shingly debris and rocky ground, and continued for more than a mile along the face of the ridge. after that distance, it descended to a grassy, saline, very swampy plain, close to the river. i encamped at the village of zangla, which lies at the base of the mountains, on the upper part of a steep stony slope, extending down to the river. the alluvial platforms during this day's journey were generally of great thickness. this was especially the case around tongde, where the clay formation formed considerable hills; and on the latter part of the march, where the mountains advanced nearly to the stream. here high banks of clay were accumulated on the ridges, and were frequently, as in many other parts of tibet, worn into fantastic shapes by the melting of the snow. near zangla, too, detached masses were seen clinging to the sides of the mountains, at considerable heights, in positions which indicated great denudation. [sidenote: the road leaves the valley of zanskar. _june, ._] the result of my inquiries at padum had been, that the lower part of the course of the zanskar river (which i had hoped i might be able to follow to its junction with the indus) was so rocky and difficult as to be impracticable, and that at the present season, when the torrents were all swollen by the melting snow, the only practicable road to the indus lay through the mountains, at a distance from the river. i was now approaching the point where the road entered the mountains, and could already see that the fine open valley through which i had been travelling was soon to have an end. at zangla it had become sensibly narrower, and the mountains on both sides, still tipped with snow, were extremely rocky and rugged. the earlier part of the march of the th of june was still parallel to the river, partly over table-land, at other times through a dense jungle of _hippophaë_, which covered its low banks, as well as several islands in its channel. after about four miles, the road turned suddenly to the right, and, leaving the valley altogether, commenced a rapid ascent on the steep slope of the mountain. from the point at which the road turned off, the zanskar valley ahead could be seen to narrow rapidly, by the closing-in of the mountains. a turn in its direction, at the distance of four or five miles, hid the further course of the river from view, but the steep scarped mountains, which seemed to rise almost perpendicularly from its bed, left no doubt of the difficult nature of the country through which it ran. the first part of the ascent was very steep and bare. a prickly _statice_, in dense round tufts, made its appearance after the first few hundred feet, accompanied by another very common tibetan plant, which had not been met with in the open plain, a species of _cicer_, described by bentham as _c. microphyllum_, if indeed the siberian _c. soongaricum_ be not the same species. this plant is remarkable, not only for a very viscid exudation, but also for its peculiar strong aromatic and pungent odour, which, except that it is very much more powerful, a good deal resembles that of its cultivated congener _c. arietinum_, the well-known _gram_ of upper india. it also recalls to mind the smell of the common black currant, which, however, is more aromatic and less pungent and acidulous. on the lower part of the ascent the prevailing rock was limestone, of a dark bluish-grey colour, extremely hard, containing many white veins and crystals of calcareous spar; it closely resembled the limestone of the hangarang pass, and, like it, alternated with hornstone and cherty quartz rock, and with finely laminated slates. [sidenote: mountains on right bank of zanskar river. _june, ._] on leaving the bare slope, the road entered a narrow ravine, and continued to ascend rapidly along the bank of the streamlet which trickled down it. the ravine was full of loose angular stones, and had on both sides high rocky precipices of limestone and slate. close to the little rivulet, a willow, a _lonicera_, and a rose grew in great plenty among the loose stones, forming a dense bushy mass of green, six or eight feet high, which contrasted strongly with the barrenness of the shingle remote from the water, and of the rocky walls on either side. the ascent was rapid, and ere long, as the elevation increased, the shrubby vegetation disappeared, and the only plants which grew among the loose fragments of slate were a few small alpine species: _anemone_, _corydalis_, _thermopsis_, and _androsace_, were the genera to which these hardy plants belonged. in the crevices of the rocks, a large fleshy-leaved saxifrage, of the subgenus _bergenia_, was common: it was a different species from either of the two hitherto described from india, as well as from _s. crassifolia_ of siberia, and was particularly interesting as a connecting link between these two floras. further on, the ascent became more gentle; a few small patches of snow were passed, and soon after, the road ascended a very steep and shingly slope after the north side of the ravine, to the crest of a ridge, the elevation of which i estimated at about , feet. the top of the ridge was rounded, and had more soil, and, as a consequence, more vegetation, than the stony dell below. several plants of the valley reappeared, particularly _lithospermum euchromon_ and a species of _cynoglossum_, both of which seem to have a wide range in altitude. a few new species of _cruciferæ_ and _astragalus_ were obtained on the ridge. there was a very good and extensive view to the north, of mountain behind mountain, all bare and desolate; but in every other direction ridges close at hand intercepted the view. the most distant ridge had much snow on it, and appeared very elevated: i supposed it to be that between the zanskar river and the indus. after leaving the ridge, the road gradually descended towards the north, down a ravine full of fragments of slate: the hills on both sides were low and rounded. on the descent, _caragana versicolor_, the _dama_ of the tibetans, occurred very plentifully; it is, however, in general, much less common in the north-west parts of tibet than further to the south, where it is very luxuriant. following the course of the ravine, after a considerable distance, i observed bushes of willow and _lonicera_ to appear in the dry channel, and almost immediately afterwards a little water was found trickling down it, so that i was enabled to encamp, after rather a fatiguing march, at an elevation of about , feet. [sidenote: narrow ravine. _june, ._] next day i continued to descend the ravine. the hills were now considerably higher and more rugged than in the upper part, and were faced by cliffs of a clayey conglomerate, partly soft, but often indurated. a rapidly decaying yellowish slate, in highly inclined strata, was seen occasionally in the bed of the river. the stream was, as usual, fringed by willow and _lonicera_; and a species of poplar, forming a small tree, occurred frequently. there was scarcely a single vestige of vegetation on the mountain-sides. after descending about two miles, i reached a large ravine, the slope of which was much more gradual. the banks were still composed of clay conglomerate, which rose in lofty precipices on both sides; after about three miles, however, this disappeared, and the ravine became very narrow and rocky. the road was now very rugged, ascending high on the mountain-side, and then descending to cross the stream. the limestone cliffs, which here approached within ten or twelve feet of one another, were marked with horizontal undulating grooves, perhaps indicative of the former existence of a glacier in this spot. as i advanced, after crossing to the right bank of the stream, the road became still more rocky and difficult, till at last the ravine in front became quite impracticable. i now turned suddenly to the right, and entered a narrow passage with perpendicular walls of rock, down which ran a very small streamlet. in this dark shady dell, which was so narrow that the light of the sun could not possibly reach the bottom, there were several large patches of snow. the ascent was at first rapid, but after a mile and a half the slope became more gradual and the ravine considerably wider. the usual shrubs then appeared on the water's edge, close to which i encamped, after a march of perhaps nine miles, at about , feet, very nearly the same elevation as the place from which i had started in the morning, and in an equally desert situation. the whole march was exceedingly barren, and without any cultivation or village. a few small bushes of juniper (_j. excelsa_) were met with about half-way, for the first time during my present journey. [sidenote: takti pass. _june, ._] on the st of july, i continued the ascent of the ravine, which was still extremely barren and stony, except in the immediate vicinity of the stream, where the usual vegetation of willow and _lonicera_ continued plentiful. a few birch-trees were seen on the road-side. after following the ravine for nearly two miles, i reached a point at which it divided into two branches. the luggage porters took that to the right, which was said to be easier, but longer, while my guide led me to the left, up a steep ravine, which, after a few hundred yards, contracted to a mere fissure three to six feet in width, with very lofty rocky walls, and full of loose shingle. in several places, large masses of hard smooth ice had to be passed, which, from the steepness of the slope, proved no easy task, and would certainly have been almost an impossibility for loaded men. after passing through this fissure, which, as usual, opened out in its upper part, the road turned to the left up a long steep shingly hill-side, to the top of the ridge, which was rounded. while in the ravine i saw no plants; but on the shingly ascent a number of alpine species made their appearance. one of the first was an _anemone_, but by far the most abundant was a yellow species of _thermopsis_, which was in full flower, and seemed to thrive best among loose stones. a small _veronica_, with bright blue flowers, occurred several times on the ascent. the pass over this ridge is called takti la. its elevation was, according to my observation of the boiling-point of water, , feet. the mountains to the right and left, rising perhaps feet higher than the pass, obstructed all view. behind, the landscape was shut in by a lofty snowy mountain, not a mile off; and in front, part of the same snowy range which i had observed from the ridge two days before, was visible. there was a good deal of vegetation at the top, which was in part swampy round a small spring, where probably the snow had only recently melted. the plants were all alpine: _biebersteinia odora_, a well-known north asiatic form, was very common, with several _ranunculaceæ_ and _cruciferæ_, and one or two species of _polygonum_. [sidenote: nira. _july, ._] on the steep shingly ascent which faced the south, i had met with no snow till close to the top, when i saw a few very small patches. on leaving the top of the pass, the road continued to run along the side of the mountain on the left hand, nearly level for about a mile. as i got more fully on the north face, i found snow lying in large patches, which were melting rapidly; and when fairly on the northern slope, i found that, though very steep, it was covered by a continuous bed of snow from the very crest down to about , feet, as near as i could guess. the view to the north, which, from the pass itself, had been very limited, was now extensive. the range in front was everywhere tipped with snow, and the road up to its crest, with the pass by which i was to cross it, were distinctly visible. between this range and that on which i stood was interposed the deep ravine of the zanskar river, the course of which could be traced for a long way, though from the precipitous rocks through which it ran, the stream itself could not be seen. i find it extremely difficult to describe in an adequate manner the extreme desolation of the most barren parts of tibet, where no luxuriant forest or bright green herbage softens the nakedness of the mountains, but everywhere the same precipices, heaps of rocks, and barren monotonous deserts meet the eye. the prospect now before me was certainly most wonderful. i had nowhere before seen a country so utterly waste. at the great elevation on which i stood i completely overlooked the valley, and the two or three villages which i afterwards found to exist were either seen as mere spots, or concealed by ranges of hills. directly in front, across the zanskar river, a rocky precipice, worn and furrowed in every direction, and broken into sharp pinnacles, rose to the height of at least feet, overhanging a deep ravine, while to the right and left mountain was heaped upon mountain in inextricable confusion, large patches of snow crowning the highest parts. from the edge of the snow i descended rapidly to the village of nira. on the earlier part of the descent, the ground was soft and miry from the recent melting of the snow, which still lay in the more shady parts in large patches. a bright yellow _ranunculus_, with numerous petals, and the pretty _lloydia serotina_ were plentiful close to the snow. further down, the road was extremely stony, and the descent very abrupt, but towards the end i followed the course of a small streamlet, the margins of which were skirted by a belt not more than a foot in width of vividly green turf. the village of nira, in which i encamped, was , feet above the level of the sea: its cultivated lands were extensive, and both in the village and on the hills around, juniper-trees of considerable size were common. [sidenote: cross zanskar river. _july, ._] [sidenote: yulchung. _july, ._] on the nd of july i crossed the zanskar river to the village of yulchung ( , feet). at nira, besides the usual crops of barley, there was a good deal of buckwheat, which was just above ground. the fields were bordered, as usual, by a rank vegetation. a _nepeta_, very like _n. sibthorpiana_, was quite new to me, and a tall erect _wahlenbergia_, with very large pale greenish-blue flowers, and coarse, somewhat fetid leaves, was very abundant, just coming into flower; the rest of the plants observed were the same as in the upper part of zanskar. the stream which ran by the village had in some places spread out into a marshy meadow, in which a large pink-flowered _cardamine_ or _dentaria_ occurred plentifully, with _orchis latifolia_? a white _juncus_, and many common plants. below the village the descent was bare and stony, and extremely abrupt the whole way down to the river; the tibetan rose was in full flower on the road-side. the river did not come into sight till it was close at hand, the bottom of the ravine through which it flowed being narrow and rocky. a common wooden bridge, without side-rails, forty or fifty feet above the surface of the water, was thrown over at the narrowest part, where the stream was hemmed in by high rocky walls, and was, i think, not more than forty feet broad. the current was rapid, and the water much discoloured. the course of the river at the bridge was easterly, but below, after a slight bend to the south of east, the valley seemed to take a more northerly direction, and above the bridge it came from the south-west. the banks of the river did not seem to be at all practicable, and i was informed that it was only when the river was frozen that travellers could proceed down it to le. accounts differed much as to the length of time required for the journey, and i could not discover that any of my party had ever travelled it, so that i presume the route is not very much frequented. immediately after crossing the river, a long, steep, utterly barren ascent commenced over stones and shingle. a deep ravine, with a small stream at the bottom, lay to the right of the road, beyond which were the lofty rugged precipices which had been so conspicuous from the heights the day before. at about , feet i gained the summit of a projecting ridge, which rose, a little to the right, into a rocky peak, and then sank abruptly down to the ravine. the road then dipped into a hollow filled with large boulders and fragments of rock, perhaps of glacial origin, and rose again more gradually to a second ridge, in the hollow beyond which lay the village at which i had determined to encamp, its lowest houses overhanging the deep ravine on the right. the elevation not being materially different from that of nira, the plants of the cultivated grounds were the same. _potentilla anserina_ was very plentiful, and remarkably luxuriant. the rocks during the ascent were chiefly a very hard but very brittle quartz or schist, alternating with loose crumbly slates, and a little limestone. i diverged a little from the direct road, to visit an iron mine, and to see the process of smelting. the ore was yellow ochre, occurring in a breccia-looking conglomerate situated on the flanks of a steep narrow ravine. there were two smelting furnaces, built of stone, of a conical shape, three feet in height, and about six inches in diameter at the top. the fuel employed was charcoal, and no flux was mixed with the ore. [sidenote: singhi pass. _july, ._] on the rd of july, i crossed singhi la, the pass which i had seen so distinctly on the st. the ascent commenced at once from the village of yulchung, over dry rounded hills, at the same time receding considerably from the deep ravine on the right. no rock _in situ_ was visible on the earlier part of the ascent, the hills being entirely covered with coarse gravel and small stones, among which a spinous _astragalus_ and a species of _polygonum_ were the predominant plants; a glabrous _artemisia_, a little _euphorbia_, and the prickly _statice_, were also frequent. after about feet of ascent, plants of the alpine zone began to appear. afterwards the ascent was more gentle, over similar ground, till i attained an elevation of about , feet; at which height the road was for some distance nearly level, winding round a deep bay or hollow in the mountains, with high hills rising on the left hand, and the deep ravine still on the right. several small streams were crossed, and many alpine plants seen, all familiar to me, except a species of rhubarb, which grew among the shingle in considerable quantity, and which is probably an undescribed species. after completing the circuit of the deep bay, the ascent recommenced, but was not at all rapid, till within a few hundred yards of the top, when a short steep pull occurred. on the latter part of the ascent, from the loose, stony nature of the soil, vegetation was very scanty; and at the top, which was rounded, there was absolutely none. the elevation was , feet. several large patches of snow occurred on the south side when close to the top, but not continuously. the view was extensive to the south, embracing a considerable portion of the great snowy range north of the chenab, which, from the great elevation of the spot on which i stood, as well as of the intermediate ranges, and from the much smaller quantity of snow on its northern face, looked much less imposing than it does when viewed from the indian side. right and left were huge rocky peaks, and in front the view was obstructed by mountains close at hand, except to the north-west, in which direction a long gently-sloping valley was visible, running between two steep ridges, along which, i was informed, the next day's journey lay. from the top of the pass i attempted to form an estimate of the height of the neighbouring ranges, taking the quantity of snow as a guide, and it appeared to me that they were in general between and , feet, a few isolated peaks only exceeding that altitude. such guesses, however, are necessarily extremely vague. quartzy rock, slate, and limestone, alternated during the ascent; and near the summit of the pass the limestone evidently contained organic remains, perhaps coralline, though the traces were not sufficiently distinct to enable me to decide the point. the fossils were not observed _in situ_, but the angular fragments in which they occurred did not appear to have been transported from any distance. on the north side of the pass a snow-bed commenced at the very crest, down which the descent was very steep for a few hundred yards. the snow was very soft, and was rapidly melting, but it possibly covered a permanent mass of ice, as it terminated abruptly, and the valley at its base was wide and but little inclined, with only a few patches of snow. the ground near the snow was swampy, owing to the rapid thaw. here a little sweet-scented _primula_ was abundant, with one or two more alpine plants. the road followed the course of a wide arid valley, descending very gently. two species of rhubarb were common, and a dwarf willow fringed the margins of the stream. [sidenote: phutaksha. _july, ._] as i advanced, the valley gradually narrowed, and on the right high precipitous rocks ere long overhung the stream, so that i crossed to the left bank, and, instead of keeping on the bottom of the valley, proceeded horizontally along the hill-sides. a little further on, the stream, which had hitherto had a north-west course, turned suddenly to the north, and entered an extremely narrow rocky ravine, which to all appearance was quite impassable. here the road turned abruptly to the left, and ascended to cross a low ridge. on attaining the summit an open valley was seen feet below, which at its lower extremity contracted into a fissure precisely similar to that just described; and as the two ravines were only separated by a narrow rocky ridge, which rose to the north into a high cliff, there can be no doubt that the two streams joined a mile or two below. descending gradually into the valley, i encamped at the village of phutaksha, at an elevation of about , feet. [sidenote: lacustrine clay. _july, ._] notwithstanding its great elevation, the valley of phutaksha was partially cultivated. the fields formed a narrow belt parallel to the stream, along which they extended almost up to , feet, but the crops were scanty. the wild plants of the borders of the cultivated land were the same as those common in zanskar, and grew with great luxuriance along the margins of the irrigation streamlets. alluvial boulder clay was common in the valley; and i saw also a great deal of the fine cream-coloured clay, which i have elsewhere noticed as being probably of lacustrine origin. the occurrence of this clay at an elevation of upwards of , feet is rather uncommon, and here, as well as elsewhere, appears to be accompanied by such a conformation of the mountains as to render the former existence of a small lake probable. below phutaksha, as i have already observed, the ravine of the little stream is exceedingly narrow and rocky, and as likely as any other part of tibet to have been blocked up by alluvial deposits so as to form a lake. on the th of july my road lay up the valley. the banks of the little stream were lined with most beautiful green turf, producing all the characteristic plants already mentioned. i took the right-hand branch of two which here united, and, on looking up the other, observed that the snow-line on the northern slope of the mountains, at its head, was very considerably above the level at which i stood; its height, where lowest, seemed to be about , feet. in one small side-ravine there was an incipient glacier. after leaving the cultivated lands the valley became extremely stony and barren, fragments of a brittle limestone rock being everywhere scattered about. the vegetation changing to that of the alpine zone, several new species of _astragalus_ and _phaca_ were collected. following the streamlet almost to its source, the road afterwards ascended to the top of a steep ridge, elevated probably a little more than , feet; this ridge was rocky, or covered with shingle of a dark slate, which had succeeded to the limestone. the yellow _thermopsis_ was almost the only plant which grew on the summit, from which i had a fine view of the pass crossed the day before, and of the range of mountains i had left; but to the north there was no distant view, the valley bending abruptly to the right. [sidenote: hanupata. _july, ._] from the top of the pass i descended rapidly along a deep valley, generally at some height above the stream, to the village of hanupata, elevated , feet. this valley was throughout barren and stony, and became very narrow in the lower part. _dama_ was very plentiful, but otherwise there was little novelty in the vegetation, except along the bank of the stream in its upper part, where i made a rich collection of small alpine species. a large-flowered _aster_, a white _pyrethrum_, and a little _pedicularis_, were the new species obtained. in the lower part of the valley willow and _lonicera_ as usual appeared; and when close to hanupata, i met with a shrubby species of _labiatæ_ (perhaps a _ballota_) which is an extremely common plant in the valley of the indus from to , feet, but seems never to occur far from that river. [sidenote: wandla ravine. _july, ._] on the th of july i proceeded down the same valley to wandla, a distance of about eleven miles. the fields of hanupata occupied only a narrow strip along the bank of the stream, the sides of the valley being steep and rocky. the crops were much further advanced than any i had hitherto seen; the barley in particular was very luxuriant, and one field was already in ear. along the margins of the field there was the same rank herbage as usually occurs in similar situations. lucerne and melilot, both seemingly the common european species, were very plentiful. poplars and willows were cultivated; and i observed some large juniper-trees. beyond the cultivation the valley became very narrow. the bed and banks of the stream were gravelly, and on the latter grew a dense thicket of _myricaria_, _hippophaë_, willow, and rose. after two or three miles there was not left space even for these, the mountains coming so close together that in many places there was not room to pass between them and the water. the current was too rapid for fording, so that it repeatedly became necessary to ascend to a considerable height in order to effect a passage. one of these ascents was not much less than feet perpendicular, up a narrow lateral ravine, and then over a very steep bank of loose shingle, descending again with great abruptness to the water's edge. the road also crossed the stream several times. in one place i observed a very remarkable natural tunnel, where the stream flowed below a solid mass of conglomerate rock, which formed an arch obliquely across it. the conglomerate was exceedingly hard, and rested on both sides on very soft friable slate, by the excavation of which, by the action of the stream, the tunnel appeared to have been formed. the original channel of the stream was still visible six or eight feet higher than its present level a little to the right. the ravine continued narrow and rocky for nearly seven miles, but during the last two of these the road lay high upon the mountain-side, and was tolerably level and good. near the end the valley became wider, and several small patches of cultivation appeared, with a few apricot-trees; and a double yellow rose was planted near some of the houses. the last mile of the day's journey was entirely through very rich and luxuriant cultivation, which was further advanced than any i had yet seen. [sidenote: wandla. _july, ._] the elevation of wandla is only , feet, and the heat of the sun was very oppressive. on the latter part of the march, many plants of the indus valley which were familiar to me from my journey of the year before, but which i had not seen during my present visit to tibet, made their appearance. _echinops_ and _nepeta floccosa_, _mulgedium tataricum_, a large and handsome yellow _corydalis_, _capparis_, and numerous _chenopodiaceæ_ were abundant. the leaves of _tussilago farfara_ were common along the water-courses; in the corn-fields a little viscid _cerastium_ (_lepyrodiclis_) was only too plentiful. by far the most conspicuous plant was the rose (_r. webbiana_), which, in the rich and well-watered soil of the cultivated plain, grew most luxuriantly, forming dense almost spherical bushes, many of which were at least fifteen feet high, as much in diameter, and bushy down to the ground. they were now in full bloom, and the foliage was almost entirely concealed by the profusion of bright red flowers. i was obliged to remain a day at wandla, owing to the serious illness of one of my servants, who, though a native of a mountainous country, had suffered much more on the high passes than any of the inhabitants of the plains of india, and was now so much exhausted as to be unable to move. on the th, however, i proceeded towards the indus, not a little glad to be at last within a day's journey of that river, as i was considerably later than i had originally calculated, not having made allowance for the very rugged nature of the country between zanskar and le. [sidenote: lamayuru. _july, ._] the valley of wandla, i was informed, contracted again into a rocky ravine a very little way below the village. this ravine was not quite impracticable, but the stream had to be forded very frequently; and as it was at least four feet deep, i was recommended to follow another route, a little more circuitous, but free of difficulty. for the first mile i proceeded up an open valley, which joined at a right angle from the west that which i had descended on the th. i then turned to the right up a very sterile ravine, with much saline efflorescence; in a few places a small streamlet trickled among the stones, but for the first part the channel was quite dry, the water filtering underneath the gravel. the sides of the ravine were bare and shingly and without vegetation, except at the entrance, where a _corydalis_, thistle, and one or two other plants occurred sparingly. on the most stony parts _güldenstädtia cuneata_, benth., was common, and here and there in the gravelly channel was a bush of _myricaria_ (not _m. elegans_, but a smaller and much less handsome species). after a gentle ascent of about two miles, i gained the head of the ravine, and crossing a stony ridge not high enough for alpine plants, descended another valley on its north side, which, though at first if possible more barren than the ascent, soon became somewhat green with willow-bushes and the ordinary plants. after descending perhaps a thousand feet, i reached an extensive tract of cultivation, just above which, in another ravine, lay the village and monastery of lamayuru, of which a circumstantial account has been given by moorcroft[ ]. at this place, i joined the road from kashmir by dras to ladak, which has been repeatedly traversed by european travellers, and is particularly described in moorcroft's travels. [sidenote: indus valley. _july, ._] [sidenote: kalatze. _july, ._] below this village the valley contracted, and was for some distance full of immense masses of lacustrine clay; lower down it became a narrow rocky ravine. the road descended with great rapidity till i reached the wandla stream, which i had left in the morning; it was afterwards less steep, following the banks of that river through a winding rocky valley to its junction with the indus, which was not seen till close at hand. the valley of the indus, where i entered it, was very barren, with bare rugged mountains on both sides. a stony platform of alluvial conglomerate usually intervened between the mountains and the river, over which my road lay for about three miles up the river, to a good wooden bridge, defended on the north side by a small, very indifferent fort. by this bridge i crossed to the right side of the river, and a mile further on reached the village of kalatze (or kalsi, as it is commonly pronounced), at which i encamped. in the lower part of the wandla ravine, the clay-slate rock became much indurated, and alternated with a very hard conglomerate, the matrix of which had a semi-fused appearance, while the pebbles which it contained were all rounded. this rock is very similar to, and probably identical with, that of the giah ravine north of the tunglung pass, and of the upper indus. a modern conglomerate, with an indurated sandy and calcareous matrix, in horizontal beds, rested unconformably upon the more ancient rock, but afforded no indications by which i could form an opinion of its exact age. [sidenote: vegetation of valley of indus. _july, ._] the elevation of my tent at kalatze i made to be , feet; but i was encamped at the highest part of the village, and the bed of the river was not much above , feet. the cultivated lands, which are very extensive, lie on the top of a thick platform of alluvium, through which the river has excavated a deep broad channel. the lands of the village slope gradually from the base of the mountain to the edge of the cliff overhanging the river, and the fields are made into level terraces by walls of stones from three to six feet in height. numerous streams of water are conducted through the fields for irrigation, upon which cultivation in tibet entirely depends. the crops had an appearance of great luxuriance: they consisted of wheat and barley (both in full ear, the latter even beginning to turn yellow), buckwheat, peas, and oil-seed (_brassica napus_). fruit-trees were abundant, chiefly apricots; but there was no deficiency of apples, pears, walnuts, and mulberries. along the water-courses and on the edges of the fields grew plenty of wild plants, many the same as occur everywhere in tibet, but, from the diminished elevation, numerous novelties were observed. a _clematis_, with dingy brownish-orange flowers, straggled over bushes; a shrubby _ballota_ and a _perowskia_ covered the walls; _iris_, _capsella_, _veronica biloba_ and _agrestis_, _lamium amplexicaule_, _mentha_, _potentillæ_, _plantago asiatica_, _thalictrum_, and numerous other plants grew along the water-courses; while in the fields among the corn the weeds were much the same as are common in europe and in the plains of india in the cold season; _vaccaria_, _silene conoidea_, _stellaria media_, _malva rotundifolia_, and _convolvulus arvensis_ being plentiful. [sidenote: nurla. _july, ._] on the th of july, i marched to nurla[ ], about eight miles up the valley of the indus. after leaving kalatze, the whole day's journey was quite barren, the road usually lying on the top of an alluvial platform. just beyond kalatze, a large stream had cut a deep ravine through the platform, showing it to be composed of large incoherent water-worn stones, mixed with gravel and clay. the mountains on both sides were steep, rocky, and bare. the vegetation on these platforms was scanty: _boragineæ_ and _chenopodiaceæ_ were the two prominent orders; _nepeta floccosa_, a little _hyoscyamus_, _güldenstädtia_, a large and handsome _corydalis_, a _matthiola_, and several _astragali_, _cruciferæ_, and _artemisiæ_, were also prevalent. of grasses, _stipa_ was the most common, but several sub-tropical forms were observed, which were interesting and somewhat unexpected. a species of _cymbopogon_, and an _andropogon_ allied to _a. ischæmum_, grew among rocks close to the river. in similar places i met with two species of _vincetoxicum_, one a twiner, and the other erect; _tribulus_, too, was common on the most barren spots. at nurla, the cultivated lands are very extensive: the crops and fruit-trees as at kalatze; some of the barley was nearly ripe. the common bean seemed a good deal cultivated, usually intermixed with wheat; _lathyrus sativus_ was also a common crop[ ]. behind the village of kalatze, rounded hills of moderate elevation were capped with incoherent beds of sand and boulders of considerable thickness, horizontally stratified; similar beds, sometimes indurated into a soft sandstone rock, occurred at intervals throughout the day. boulders of granite were abundant in the alluvium and on the surface of the platforms, derived, i believe, from the axis of the chain separating the indus from the shayuk. these transported masses of granite were not observed anywhere between lower zanskar and the indus; it may therefore, i think, be inferred that the superficial alluvium (which, where the two occur together, generally covers the lacustrine clays) has been deposited since the present river system was in full operation, and is not, as i at one time conjectured, analogous to the drifts of europe. the ancient rocks between kalatze and nurla were alternations of friable slate with indurated conglomerate and grey sandstone. [sidenote: saspola. _july, ._] between nurla and saspola, to which place (eleven miles) i marched on the th, the valley of the indus was narrower than before, as well as more rocky. the rock was chiefly grey sandstone. the road frequently ascended to some height in places where the banks of the river were too rugged to permit a passage. on the th of june i proceeded to nimo, ten miles further. at saspola the road leaves the banks of the indus, to ascend a barren valley, among hills of loose conglomerate. at first, the banks of the little stream were green and turfy; but after about a mile i entered a dry stony ravine, along the bed of which the road gradually ascended. the rocks were clay-slate, conglomerate, and sandstone, and all the hills were capped with modern alluvial clay conglomerate. granite boulders occurred abundantly, and marks of the action of water were seen on the rocks far above the reach of the present streams. at the summit, which must have been nearly feet above the indus, i emerged suddenly upon a wide and open gravelly plain. to the right, a number of low hills concealed the course of the indus; to the left, the mountain range had receded to some distance, and could be seen to be here and there tipped with snow. the road lay for several miles over this barren plain, which was entirely alluvial, descending afterwards very abruptly into a deep flat-bottomed hollow, excavated out of the soft conglomerate by a considerable stream. in this hollow, quite concealed till close at hand, was the village of bazgo, with a long narrow strip of cultivation along the margin of its stream. following the course of this valley till near the indus, i then ascended its left bank, and emerged upon another extensive alluvial platform, high above the river, but parallel to it. at the east end of this platform was the village of nimo, the termination of my day's journey. [sidenote: nimo. _july, ._] from this place my journey of the th brought me to le, about twelve miles. about a mile above nimo the indus is joined by the zanskar river. the valley where the two rivers unite is very rocky and precipitous, and bends a long way to the south. the road to le does not follow the river, but ascends among gravelly ravines behind the village, and emerges on a wide open plain, which, as on the previous march, is interposed between the northern range of mountains and the present channel of the indus. the height of this plain above the river was at least feet; it was lowest in the centre, sloping up not only towards the mountains to the north, but to a range of round-topped hills of moderate elevation, which overhung the valley of the indus, sinking on their south face very abruptly down to the river. the higher mountains were chiefly granite, with a few interposed beds of slate dipping at a high angle. the granite exhibited the usual tendency of that rock to decay in spheres, or rather in irregular-shaped masses with rounded angles. in proceeding along this plain, the road at first rose almost imperceptibly, but after two miles i reached the highest part of it, from which it sloped down towards the east. from this point the course of the indus in front of le, and to the south-east for many miles, was finely seen. the river runs through a wide valley, but the range of mountains to the north sends down many rugged spurs, which, in the shape of low rocky hills, advance close to the river. on the south or left bank, on the contrary, a wide, open, gently-sloping plain extends to a considerable distance. from the highest level of the plain a long gradual descent brought me to the indus, to which it was necessary to descend in order to get round one of the spurs just referred to. it is here a tranquil but somewhat rapid stream, divided into several branches by gravelly islands, generally swampy, and covered with low _hippophaë_ scrub. the size of the river was very much less than it had been below the junction of the river of zanskar, the latter appearing to contribute considerably more than half the amount of water. at the point of the low spur lay the village of pitak, on an isolated hill, surrounded by extensive deposits of cream-coloured lacustrine clay. from this village there is a gradual ascent of about four miles to the town of le, which is built on a low hill at the upper corner of a wide open valley. [sidenote: pitak. _july, ._] the bed of the indus at pitak, below le, has an elevation of about , feet above the level of the sea, but the town is at least feet higher. its sheltered situation, in a hollow surrounded by hills, and facing the south, compensates to a certain extent for this increase of elevation; still the crops are very much inferior to those on the banks of the indus. there are but few trees, the apricot being the only fruit-tree cultivated, and it does not seem to thrive. water is plentiful in the valley, and is conveyed through the cultivated lands in deeply-cut canals or trenches, faced with walls of stone. natural meadows of tall grasses, intermixed with luxuriant lucerne and melilot, are common along the banks of the river, especially above the town. [sidenote: le. _july, ._] the vegetation in the vicinity of le scarcely differed from that of the indus at kalatze. the most abundant families of plants were _chenopodiaceæ_, _labiatæ_, and _artemisiæ_, which covered the barren and stony tracts; the _boragineæ_, so abundant throughout tibet in early spring, had already quite dried up and disappeared. in the meadows tall species of _thalictrum_, _silene_, and _heracleum_, were coming into flower, and in swamps _veronica beccabunga_ and _anagallis_, _limosella_, and a yellow _pedicularis_, were the most abundant plants. at le i had the pleasure of meeting captain strachey, who had spent the winter there, and had returned shortly before my arrival, from an exploring journey to the eastward. after a week's stay i set out for nubra on the th of july, crossing the lofty chain separating the two rivers by the pass directly north of le, which, during the summer months, presents no difficulty, and is therefore preferred as being the most direct. the pass is distinctly visible from the town of le, to which it appears very close, though the distance is at least ten or twelve miles. i did not attempt to cross it the first day, but encamped as far up on the southern face as i conveniently could, so as to reach the top early in the morning. at starting, the road lay for about three miles through an open valley, partly cultivated, and with a good deal of swampy ground. higher up, the valley contracted into a barren ravine, with a narrow strip of green along the margin of the stream. about half-way, the road left the bottom of the valley, and for the remainder of the march i proceeded along the bare side of the mountain, ascending very rapidly. there was a striking change in the vegetation as the height increased. on the lower slopes _cicer_ and _statice_ were abundant, with several _astragali_; on the latter part of the ascent many alpine plants were observed, belonging to the genera _corydalis_, _elsholtzia_, _potentilla_, and _draba_. a very small violet was extremely plentiful in the crevices of the rocks, and among stones, after i had reached , feet. i encamped at about , feet, on a level piece of ground, a few hundred feet above the bottom of the valley. [sidenote: pass north of le. _july, ._] on the th i crossed the pass, starting about sunrise. the morning was intensely frosty, and the stones and vegetation near the water were encrusted with ice. the path lay close to the stream, ascending somewhat rapidly among the green turf which grew along its margin, in which i found many little alpine plants, among which, a large-flowered _aster_ and a small poppy with still unexpanded flowers were the most conspicuous. the last part of the ascent was extremely steep, among immense angular granite boulders, with here and there a little snow in the crevices. here a most elegant sweet-scented species of _primula_ was common, so firmly fixed in the frozen mud, that i could with difficulty procure a specimen. except in very small patches, there was no snow till within two hundred yards of the top of the ascent, for which distance it was continuous, but very soft, and evidently melting rapidly. the crest of the pass was a narrow ridge of large spheres of granite, seemingly quite detached from one another, but which had probably been formed on the spot they now occupied by the peculiar decay characteristic of that rock. the continuation of the ridge on both sides was for some distance very little more elevated than the pass itself, the height of which was , feet. to the south, the view was very extensive, embracing a great extent of snowy mountains, with numerous lofty peaks, as well as a part of the indus valley, and the town of le, immediately below; to the north it was much more limited, as hills close at hand completely excluded all distant view, except directly in front, where one snowy peak could be seen a long way off, evidently beyond the shayuk. on the north side of the pass snow commenced at the very top, and continued for at least feet of perpendicular height. the descent for this distance was extremely steep, over a snow-bed, which appeared to cover an incipient glacier. about feet below the top i came to a small oval-shaped lake, completely frozen over; a little higher up i had passed a small bare piece of rock projecting through the snow, and perhaps thirty feet long, on which the beautiful blue-flowered _nepeta multibracteata_, benth., had already put forth its flowers. beyond the frozen lake the descent became at once much more gentle, and was partially free of snow. the path lay over a vast accumulation of angular stones, which appeared to have fallen from the rocks above. many parts of the valley were swampy, evidently from recently melted snow, and in such places the _primula_, noticed on the ascent, occurred in great abundance, its scapes rising to the height of six to eight inches, and bearing large globes of deep rose-coloured flowers. among the loose stones _nepeta multibracteata_ was common. about three miles from the top i passed the end of an exceedingly well-marked moraine, which must have been deposited by a glacier at a time when, from increased cold, these masses of ice stretched down much further than they do at present. the remainder of the descent was again more abrupt, but very bare, stony, and uninteresting. a single tree of _juniperus excelsa_ grew in one of the ravines, and below , feet a species of berberry, with very small leaves, was common on dry stony ground. i encamped at the small village of kardong, at , feet. the cultivation round this village was on a level plain without any terracing. [illustration: metamorphic rocks. alluvium. stream. alluvium. metamorphic rocks.] [sidenote: kardong. _july, ._] [sidenote: alluvial platforms. _july, ._] on the st i proceeded to karsar, a village on the bank of the shayuk river, distant about nine miles. a few hundred feet above the village of kardong the alluvial boulder clay had begun to occur in the valley, and around the village, which occupied the end of a lateral ravine, it was already very thick. from kardong to the shayuk this alluvium continued in great quantity, forming elevated platforms, sloping very gently from the mountains, and faced by steep, often quite perpendicular cliffs. where lateral ravines joined the main valley the alluvium was deeply excavated by the little streams which traversed them, and the road descended abruptly by steep and curiously winding paths down the cliffs of clay, and among piles of boulders, to re-ascend to the platform beyond the stream. such a ravine, of great depth, occurred just below kardong. after crossing it the road lay over the surface of the clay platform, which was nearly level, and consequently at an increasing height above the bottom of the kardong valley, which rapidly diminished in elevation. this platform was extremely barren, and quite devoid of water. here and there isolated rocky masses rose up through the alluvium. the rock was peculiar, being very hard, and, as it were, porphyritic, with a black, basaltic-looking matrix, quite homogeneous, in which numerous white specks were diffused. in hand specimens and boulders, and even on a near view of the hills, this rock appeared quite an igneous rock, but when an extensive section was exposed, it could be seen to be distinctly stratified. [sidenote: karsar. _july, ._] when within a short distance of the shayuk valley, though still high above it, the road turned to the left, and, leaving the alluvial platform, proceeded among rugged rocky hills, in a direction parallel to that river, at the same time descending somewhat rapidly to a platform of modern lacustrine clay and conglomerate, which filled up the whole of a deep recess in the mountains facing the shayuk, to a thickness of at least feet. the village of karsar, at which i encamped, lies in a deep ravine, excavated out of the clay formation by a considerable stream, on both sides of which, for nearly a mile, there is a belt of cultivation, very narrow where the stream issues from the mountains, but gradually widening as it descends. owing to the sheltered situation, from the great height of the cliffs of clay on both sides, the crops were exceedingly luxuriant, and fruit-trees were plentiful, principally apples and apricots. some very fine walnut-trees also occurred. from the same cause the herbaceous vegetation was particularly rich, and i met with many species which were new to me. the banks of the stream, from the point where it issued from among the mountains, were everywhere bordered by large bushes of _myricaria elegans_, now adorned with masses of sweet-scented rose-coloured flowers. in the lower part of the village-lands there were shady plantations of poplar and willow, which seemed to be occasionally irrigated, in order that they might produce a rich natural pasture. in these groves _euphrasia officinalis_, species of _gentiana_, _ranunculus_, _potentilla_, and _carum_ grew most luxuriantly; a tall but very small-flowered _pedicularis_ was also very common. no less than three species of _orchideæ_ occurred, a family which more than any other dislikes dryness: these were _orchis latifolia_, an _epipactis_, and an _herminium_. many of the weeds of the cultivated fields were also new and interesting: a _hypecoum_, an _elsholtzia_, and some species of _polygonum_, were those i particularly noted. [sidenote: lacustrine deposit. _july, ._] the lacustrine formation of karsar consists mostly of very pure white clay, horizontally stratified; but at the lower end of the ravine, where it is about to expand into the open plain of the shayuk, a tolerably solid but still very friable sandstone, the strata of which were also quite horizontal, occurred under the clay. i saw no fossils, but when the clay is examined with care, they will probably be occasionally detected. at all events, as this clay formation is at least a thousand feet thick, if we take into consideration the open nature of the whole valley of nubra, there can be no doubt that it must have been deposited from the same waters with the very similar clay which i found at tertse, in lower nubra, in october, , and that it is therefore lacustrine. if this be admitted, it seems impossible to escape from the conclusion, that the deposits in the kardong valley, (of which i have given an imaginary section in page ,) though different in appearance, belong to the same lake. now, these attain an elevation of , feet and upwards, as they commence above kardong: the level of the surface of the nubra lake can therefore hardly have been less than , feet; so that it must have extended up the tanktse valley, almost as far as the low pass by which that district is separated from the pangong lake. [sidenote: diskit. _july, ._] from karsar, i marched on the th of july, down the valley of the shayuk, to diskit. the earlier part of the road, after ascending abruptly out of the karsar ravine, lay over the clay platform, which was perfectly flat; but after about four miles, it descended nearly to the level of the river, whose wide gravelly plain now extended on the south side to the very foot of the mountains, the lacustrine beds having been entirely removed. the plain was traversed by several small streamlets, apparently derived in a great measure from the river, the water of which seemed to sink among the gravel and sand of its bed, and to spring up again at a distance from the main channel. one of these streams ran at the extreme edge of the plain, close under the cliffs, which here rose almost precipitously to a great height. its banks were very saline, and in the neighbourhood of diskit a great part of the plain was encrusted with soda. the cultivated lands of the village, which is of considerable size, lie on a sloping bank, rising rather steeply out of the plain. many apricot-trees grow among the houses, some of which were large enough to afford a shade under which a tent could be pitched. the vegetation was in general the same as at karsar, but a white-flowered _allium_ was new, as well as a species of _chloris_, which was abundant in the pastures. a very small _cyperus_, which grew in the water-courses, appeared to be a dwarf state of a species common in the plains of india, and, with the _chloris_, which is a tropical grass, was interesting as an indication of the considerable heat of the summer climate in the valley of the shayuk, notwithstanding its great elevation. [sidenote: passage of shayuk river. _july, ._] the village of diskit is almost exactly opposite the place where the nubra river joins the shayuk from the northward. in october, , i had crossed the shayuk five or six miles above karsar, and descended along its right bank, but during the hot months this route is not practicable, as there are no bridges, and the river is too deep to be forded anywhere except just at its junction with that of nubra, where the wide gravelly plain of the shayuk expands to its greatest diameter, and the river is divided into numerous branches. the greater part of the th of july was occupied by the passage of the shayuk, which was both tedious and difficult, the river being now nearly at its greatest height. the first branch was nearly two miles from diskit, the intervening gravelly plain being partly swampy, with a few bushes of _hippophaë_, _tamarix_, and _myricaria_. there were four large branches to be crossed, besides several of smaller size. nearly a mile of sand separated the last large branch from the remainder, and the ford was a most intricate one, each branch being crossed obliquely and at a different point from the adjacent ones. the united breadth of all the streams could not, i think, have been less than half a mile. the velocity of the water was so great, that though the depth nowhere, i think, exceeded three and a half feet, and was more usually about two and a half, people on foot appeared to have the utmost difficulty in retaining their footing, and the loaded men had to be supported by one or two without loads on each side. in the more difficult parts, two men placed themselves on each side of my horse's head, to guide him in the proper road, and two more at each stirrup to give him support in case of need. when in the centre of the current, where, from the necessity of keeping my eye on the horse's motions, i had to look at the water, i found it impossible to avoid a feeling of giddiness, and an impression that horse and rider were being hurried upwards with extreme velocity in a direction contrary to the stream. these very rapid portions, however, were never more than ten or twenty yards broad; the remainder was more moderate and shallower. [sidenote: lyakjung. _july, ._] after safely effecting the passage with all my party and baggage, i proceeded about a mile over loose sand, and encamped at the village of lyakjung, situated at the border of the low plain of the river, at the point of union of the two valleys. the shayuk valley is visible from this place as far as the large village of hundar, about ten miles, the river running throughout that distance through a wide gravelly plain, but with high rocky mountains on both sides. [sidenote: valley of nubra. _july, ._] from the th of july till the th of august, i remained in the valley of nubra, the necessary preparations for my further journey, which was to be entirely through an uninhabited country, requiring considerable time. during this interval, i moved from place to place in the valley, which is well inhabited and rather pretty. the river is in the hot months very large and rapid, and has its origin, no doubt, in the great snowy mountains to the north. i crossed it twice a little above the town of chirasa, and found its current quite as strong as that of the shayuk, and in many places as deep, but its breadth was considerably less. in one of the channels, a lad, carrying a light bundle, was carried away by the stream, and rolled over repeatedly in the water, after being separated from his load, before he was picked up by a number of men who hastened to his assistance. the difficulty of crossing was much increased by numerous quicksands, which made it necessary to proceed by a tortuous path, and which were evidently very liable to shift, as the guides proceeded very cautiously, and more than once abandoned a ford on finding the footing insecure. the general appearance of the valley of nubra is very agreeable, and superior to that of any other part of tibet at the same elevation. the villages are well wooded, with orchards of apricot-trees, and with poplars and willows, which are either planted in rows, or scattered irregularly in meadows on the skirts of the cultivated lands: the willows, when not pollarded, attain a large size, and afford an ample shade. the fields are carefully enclosed with walls, or hedges of _hippophaë_, or with a fence of the dead branches of that plant. green and shady lanes, bordered by high _hippophaë_ hedges, full of _clematis_ and rose-bushes, lead through the village lands. the crops are chiefly wheat and barley, with a few fields of millet (_panicum miliaceum_), buckwheat, and rape. there is also much pasture, particularly along the little streams, and in fields near the river, which are often swampy. the beauty of the cultivated tracts is much enhanced by the utter sterility of the drier parts of the plain, which are either gravelly or stony, and utterly barren, except that occasionally from some peculiarity of soil or position there is a considerable extent of clayey soil not low enough to be swampy, but not remote from water, covered with short turf much encrusted with soda. these grassy plains are more common in the upper part of the district, and are perhaps connected with springs containing carbonate of soda in solution[ ]. [sidenote: vegetation of nubra. _august, ._] except from the more advanced period of the season, the flora of nubra differed but little from that of le. species of _artemisia_, _labiatæ_, and _chenopodiaceæ_, were now in full flower on the more desert and stony tracts, in which a shrubby _lycium_ (which is not found on the indus) was also common. _chenopodiaceæ_ had become extremely plentiful, and belonged to many different genera: shrubby species of _eurotia_ and _caroxylon_ were common, but the greater number were herbaceous, and belonged to the genera _chenopodium_, _ambrina_, _salsola_, _echinopsilon_, and corispermum. a species of thistle grew on barren soil, particularly where the ground was saline; on the salt soil, _glaux_, a little _crucifera_, and a _polygonum_ were the most abundant plants. _mulgedium tataricum_, a _galium_ (very like _g. aparine_), and a scandent species of _vincetoxicum_, were frequent in hedges; and species of _mentha_, _erodium_, _epilobium_, _lepidium_, and _matthiola_, all common plants at le, being now in full flower, attracted notice more than at an earlier period. a very tall species of grass (_melica?_) in large and elegant tufts, often six feet high, was one of the most ornamental plants in the valley; while as uncommon forms i may enumerate a prickly _sophora_, _orobanche_, _parietaria_, and in ponds a little _utricularia_, closely resembling a european species. a small-leaved elm, which is common near tagar, is apparently wild,--at least it is not acknowledged by the inhabitants as a cultivated tree. i have not observed this tree elsewhere in tibet, but mr. vigne mentions that he met with an elm in the mountains between shigar and khapalu. it appears to be the same with a species common in the forests of the lower valleys of kashmir. [sidenote: hot springs. _august, ._] about a mile from the large village of panamik are the hot springs formerly visited by moorcroft. they are two in number, and spring from the rocky mountain-side, about a hundred yards from the edge of the plain. the temperature of the water in the spring which i tried was · °. it was faintly sulphurous both in taste and smell, but not perceptibly saline, and deposited a thick calcareous incrustation on everything within its reach. to the south of panamik the rocks of nubra are chiefly black slate, but transported blocks of granite are everywhere common, and at that village the latter rock descends to the level of the river, and continues to form the whole mass of the mountains on the left side of the valley as far as i continued along it. on the right side there were indications of stratification on the steep sides of the mountains, and, from the colour, the rock there appeared to be partly granite and partly metamorphic slate. footnotes: [ ] travels, vol. ii. p. . [ ] written, i believe, _snurla_, as le is written _sle_, and nimo, _snimo_, the initial letter being in all three mute. many similar instances might be given, silent initial letters occurring very commonly in the written language of tibet. it admits of much doubt whether the best mode of spelling be according to the pronunciation, or as the words are written: i have preferred the former, as less likely to mislead. [ ] i do not know whether or not to attribute to this plant a remarkable disease which, on my return down the indus in september, i found in the village of saspola. at least thirty people in that village, of all ages from a full-grown man to an infant, and of both sexes indifferently, had been attacked with paralysis within the last two years. the palsy was confined to the lower extremities, and differed much in degree. the sufferers were in other respects the most healthy and good-looking portion of the inhabitants. the people themselves were quite at a loss to assign a cause for this extraordinary affection, and, except in some article of diet, i was unable to think of any. [ ] this view has been suggested to me by dr. r. d. thomson, who has paid much attention to the chemical contents of springs, and is at present engaged in examining the saline matters which i brought with me from tibet. chapter xiv. start for karakoram -- steep ascent out of nubra valley -- meet a party of merchants from yarkand -- view from summit of pass -- rapid torrent -- large glacier -- steep moraines -- alpine vegetation -- numerous glaciers -- lakes -- glacier on crest of sassar pass -- sassar -- cross shayuk river -- murgai -- limestone rocks -- ascend murgai valley to , feet -- singular limestone formation -- open plain above , feet -- re-cross shayuk river -- karakoram pass -- return to sassar -- glaciers of sassar -- return to le -- start for kashmir -- lamayura -- phatu pass -- kanji river -- namika pass -- molbil pashkyum -- kargil -- dras -- zoji pass -- kashmir -- lahore -- completion of journey. having at last completed the preparations necessary for a journey of twenty days through uninhabited regions, i started on the th of august from the village of taksha. my first day's journey lay up the nubra valley, which continued wide, though the alluvial platforms were destitute of cultivation, and quite barren. in several places (always opposite to ravines) they were covered with enormous boulders, which had all the appearance of having been brought to the position they occupied by glaciers. two small villages were seen, both on the west bank of the river. four miles from taksha i crossed, by a good wooden bridge, a large stream which descended from the mountains on my right hand through an exceedingly rocky gorge. after seven miles and a half, i found that i had reached the point at which the road followed by the merchants in travelling from le to yarkand leaves the valley of nubra. it was too late in the day to attempt the ascent of the ridge to the right; i therefore encamped in a grove of willows, which formed a belt along the margin of a stream whose bed was now quite dry, its scanty supply of water having been diverted into an artificial channel for the irrigation of a couple of fields of indifferent barley not far off. [illustration: sketch map of route from =nubra to karakoram=. _by dr. t. thomson._] in the valley of nubra, beyond this encamping ground, which is known by the name of changlung, there are, i believe, only three small villages, the most distant of which appeared to be not more than five or six miles off. in the direction of the valley, which was still north-north-west, very lofty mountains were visible at no great distance, all with snowy tops, and generally with heavy snow-beds and glaciers in their hollows; and according to the statement of my guides, the river at the distance of less than two days' journey issues from beneath a glacier, by which all passage is stopped[ ]. [sidenote: ascent out of nubra valley. _august, ._] on the th of august i started at daybreak, immediately commencing the ascent of the mountain range which enclosed the valley on the east. the mountain was exceedingly steep, indeed almost precipitous, and the road proceeded in a zigzag direction over bare granite rock, with scarce a vestige of vegetation. during the ascent i had a good view of the valley, and of the mountain range which bounded it on the south-west; large patches of snow lay on its peaks, and here and there i saw a small glacier in its ravines. the upper part of the valleys by which these mountains were furrowed had a very moderate slope, but from about , feet down to the bottom they were extremely abrupt. [sidenote: yarkand merchants. _august, ._] after about feet of extremely laborious climbing, i arrived at a small level plain, perhaps two hundred yards long and forty or fifty wide, evidently much frequented as a resting-place by travellers, a small pool of water being the inducement. i here met a party of merchants on their way from yarkand to le. their goods were conveyed by ponies, apparently much exhausted by their long journey through desert country. i had noticed, on the way up the mountain, that the road was lined by numerous skeletons and scattered bones of horses; i had also seen one or two of the same animals recently dead, and the appearance of these loaded ponies enabled me to understand the cause of the great mortality. many of the unfortunate animals appeared scarcely to have strength to accomplish the few miles of descent which still intervened between them and plenty of food. the main reliance of the merchants for the support of their horses is on corn carried with them, to which there must be a limit, otherwise they would carry nothing but their own food. [sidenote: summit of pass. _august, ._] from this halting-place the remainder of the ascent was less abrupt, though still steep and extremely stony. there was, however, a little more vegetation than on the lower part, where the barren rocks, except at the very base, produced scarcely anything but _ephedra_, a dwarf species of _rhamnus_, and tufts of the hardy _statice_. higher up, several species of _astragalus_ and _artemisia_ were plentiful, with _lithospermum euchromon_, _dracocephalum heterophyllum_, and several _chenopodiaceæ_ and grasses. the top of the ridge had an elevation of , feet, but from its extreme aridity and rockiness, and its consequent elevated temperature, no alpine plants occurred. on reaching the top i was able to see something of the road before me, regarding which i had previously had little information, except in accounts of its extreme difficulty. these i had been inclined to consider exaggerated, but the prospect before me was undoubtedly far from tempting. immediately below lay a narrow stony valley, to which, from the spot on which i stood, the descent was almost perpendicular. opposite to me there was a range of mountains higher than that on which i stood, with here and there a patch of snow. the valley below me was partly occupied by a mass of loose alluvial conglomerate, through which the stream had excavated a deep ravine; its direction was south-south-west, and there could be no doubt that the stream which i had crossed the day before, about half-way, was that which drained the valley upon which i now looked down. on the top of the alluvial platform, on the opposite side, there was a narrow strip of green, indicating a small patch of cultivation, without, however, any habitation, the crop being apparently left to its fate till ready for the reaper. in every other direction, stones and snow were alone visible. [sidenote: barren valley. _august, ._] i descended obliquely into the valley, so as to reach it about a mile and a half higher up than the spot from which it was first visible. the descent was very laborious, a great part of it being covered with loose gravel or coarse sand, produced by the disintegration of the granite rocks. there was rather more vegetation than on the opposite face, and i collected a number of plants which i had not recently met with; a _nepeta_, _scrophularia_, _cicer_, and _heracleum_, and two shrubby _potentillæ_, were the commonest species. one of the species of _potentilla_ (_p. discolor_ of jacquemont) was remarkable for exciting violent sneezing when touched or shaken; this curious property seemed to be owing to a very fine dust which covered the under surface of the leaves. after reaching the surface of the alluvial platform overhanging the stream, about half a mile of gentle ascent among large stones brought me, after a journey of ten miles, to my encamping ground. this was a level spot, close to a lateral torrent, which had its source in a snow-bed in the mountains on the left, and was rushing in a most impetuous milk-white torrent over immense boulders, to unite itself to the main stream. the elevation of my camp was about , feet. on the morning of the th, at starting, i crossed the torrent close to camp. although much less considerable than it had been the previous afternoon, still, from its great rapidity and the number of boulders in its bed, the crossing was not accomplished without difficulty by the laden animals, who carried the greater part of my baggage. i crossed it myself by leaping from boulder to boulder, which would have been quite impossible in the afternoon of the previous day, when it was swollen by the action of the sun upon the snow. the road lay up the valley parallel to the river, among a most extraordinary accumulation of granite boulders of all sizes, from one to ten feet in diameter, piled upon one another in vast heaps, and evidently transported by a former glacier. after about half a mile, i crossed the river by a wooden bridge of two or three beams, which must have been brought from nubra for the purpose, as no timber of any sort grows in the valley. the stream was very rapid and muddy. a mile further, a torrent descending from the mountains on the right was crossed, and soon after i got upon the bank of the main stream, now more tranquil and fordable. the road for the remainder of the march lay along its left bank, over boulders and gravel, ascending now and then a little way on steep sloping banks, entirely composed of transported materials. i encamped on a level, somewhat grassy spot of ground, which was evidently commonly used as a halting-place, having travelled only four and a half miles, an unnecessarily short day's work. i had throughout my journey had considerable difficulty in fixing the marches at proper lengths, the inhabitants having no measure of distance but the day's journey. in the present instance, my tent was pitched, and most of the party had commenced to cook, or were dispersed to collect fuel, long before my arrival, so that i was obliged to rest content for the day. [sidenote: glacier. _august, ._] the course travelled during the day had been north-north-east, but i had evidently arrived nearly as far as was practicable in that direction, for about half a mile in front was the bluff end of a very large glacier, filling up the continuation of the valley. this glacier, which was nearly half a mile wide, was covered almost entirely with stones and earth, very little of its surface being visible, and the dirty black colour of its terminating cliff showing how much soil had been mixed up with it in its progress. the elevation of my tent was about , feet, and the termination of the glacier may have been feet higher. all around the mountains were very lofty, their tops covered with snow, which nowhere came within feet at least of the valley, even on northern exposures. granite was everywhere the prevailing rock, but on the higher mountain slopes, which were often precipitous, it was much intermixed with a dark rock, probably clay-slate. [sidenote: alpine nettle. _august, ._] during the day i had scarcely seen any vegetation, except when close to the edge of the stream. among the boulders and on the bare stony ground there was frequently not a vestige of herbage. near one of the ravines i found the white shrubby _potentilla_, along with an exceedingly pretty prostrate plant, with bright rose-coloured flowers, belonging to the order of _compositæ_: it was a species of the genus _allardia_, described by m. decaisne from the collections of jacquemont, by whom it was found in piti. one of the very few alpine plants which i saw during the day was a little gentian, common among the turf close to my tent. round camp a species of nettle was plentiful, seemingly, like others of the genus, attracted by the nitrogenous nature of the soil of an encamping ground much frequented by shepherds with their flocks. the sting of this nettle, though rather faint, was quite perceptible. it was decidedly an alpine plant, which is rather uncommon, not only in the genus, but the order to which it belongs. the journey of the th of august commenced by a steep ascent into a lateral valley descending from the eastward. the hill-side up which i climbed (apparently the bluff termination of an ancient moraine) was very stony and dry. when a sufficient elevation above my encampment had been gained, i obtained a commanding view of the glacier which occupied the continuation of the main valley. it was nearly straight, and, as i believe, at least five or six miles long; distances, however, are so difficult to estimate on snow, that this must be regarded as a mere guess. the inclination of its surface was considerable; but, while the distance remained doubtful, no just estimate of the height of the ridge from which it descended could be made. on each side, two or three lateral glaciers, descending from the mountains by which it was enclosed, contributed to increase its size, all loaded with heaps of stones, which had at the lower end of the central glacier so accumulated as completely to cover its whole surface. [sidenote: moraines. _august, ._] after or feet of ascent i found that i had attained the level of the lateral valley, along which the road ran, and that the remainder of the way was much more gentle, but exceedingly fatiguing, from its excessive roughness, and from the great elevation, which made the slightest exertion difficult. on both sides were high ranges of mountains, which had much snow on their summits, and in one or two ravines there was a small snow-bed or incipient glacier, but the distance from the crest of the ridge not being great, no glacier of any length was formed. on the left hand, the mountains were steeper and higher than those on the right, and several bulky glaciers on very steep slopes occupied their ravines. none of these entered the valley along which my road lay, but their moraines often projected to its very centre, forming immense piles of angular fragments of rocks, which attained, in more than one place, a height of several hundred feet, and indicated that the glaciers had at some former period advanced much further than they now do. the main valley was itself everywhere covered with boulders; in some places large blocks, ten to twenty feet in diameter, were arranged at moderate distances from one another, but more frequently the fragments were all small. [sidenote: sassar pass. _august, ._] after the first steep ascent, the slope of the valley was uniformly gentle, except when a steep-sided moraine had to be passed. latterly a few small patches of snow occurred in the valley. i encamped at , feet, on a level grassy spot of ground close to a small circular plain resembling the bed of a lake, and still partially covered with snow. the snow level on the mountains to the south had approached within less than one hundred feet of the level of the plain. though the distance travelled during the day was only six miles, i felt a good deal fatigued, and suffered much from headache, caused by the rarefaction of the air. from the great quantity of snow on the mountains all around, there had been throughout the day an abundance of moisture, and vegetation was in consequence much more plentiful than usual. the plants were all alpine, and being mostly diminutive, had to be sought in the crevices of rocks, and among the stones which everywhere abounded. the banks of the stream were frequently grassy, and there was a great deal of marshy ground. most of the plants obtained were in full flower, and the colours were in general very bright, and sufficiently varied. by far the greater part belonged to the same genera which prevail on european mountains, such as _draba_, _saxifraga_, _sibbaldia_, _potentilla_, _ranunculus_, _papaver_, _pedicularis_, _cerastium_, _leontopodium_, and _saussurea_. the most remarkable forms were three species of _allardia_, several _astragali_, a one-flowered _lychnis_, _delphinium brunonianum_, and a _ligularia_. the alpine nettle was common on many parts of the road, chiefly near places frequented by the shepherds as halting-places. next day at starting i proceeded along the edge of the small plain close to which i had been encamped. on the right hand was an ancient moraine, which prevented me from seeing the road in advance. at the upper end of the plain i found a small streamlet running parallel to the moraine; and about a mile from camp i reached the end of a small glacier, from which the streamlet had its origin. crossing the latter, which was still partially frozen, i ascended in a deep hollow between the left side of the glacier and the moraine. the icy mass had not yet begun to thaw, the temperature being still below freezing. after half a mile i ascended on the surface of the ice, and as soon as i did so, was enabled to see that the glacier had its origin in a ravine on the south, and entered the main valley almost opposite to me. the great body of the ice took a westerly direction, forming the glacier along which i had been travelling; but a portion formed a cliff to the eastward, which dipped abruptly into a small, apparently deep lake. at the distance of perhaps five hundred yards there was another glacier, which descended from a valley in the northern range of mountains, and, like the one on which i stood, presented a perpendicular wall to the little lake. right and left of the lake were enormous piles of boulders, occupying the interval between its margin and the mountains, or rather filling up a portion of the space which it would otherwise have occupied. into this very singular hollow i descended, on a steep icy slope, and passing along the northern margin of the lake, ascended on the glacier beyond; as before, between the ice and moraine. on reaching the surface of the second glacier, i found that a similar but smaller depression lay beyond it to the east, in which also there was a small lake, with another mass of ice beyond it. this third glacier also came from the north, and was a much more formidable mass than those which had already been crossed. it was very steep, and was covered with snow, which was beginning to thaw more than was convenient. when at the highest part, i found that though apparently nearly level, it sloped downwards sensibly, though very slightly for nearly half a mile, in an easterly direction. it was evident that i had now reached the highest part of the ascent, and that the crest of the pass was covered by this glacier. i did not make any observation to determine its altitude, but the ascent from camp was very moderate, not, i think, exceeding a thousand feet. assuming this estimate to be correct, the height of the pass would be about , feet, which i believe will prove not far from the truth. on so icy an ascent vegetation could not be expected to be plentiful; still, even in the depressions between the glaciers, the crevices among the boulders produced a few plants, mostly the same as those observed the day before, but three species of _saussurea_ were the most common of all. before arriving at the first glacier, the beautiful _primula_ collected on the pass above le was met with in great abundance. [sidenote: sassar. _august, ._] for about half a mile, as i have said, the slope of the glacier was just perceptible; beyond that distance the descent was abrupt. on reaching the end of the level portion, i obtained an excellent view to the eastward, in which direction a wide valley was seen at a distance of several miles. through this valley, from left to right, ran a considerable river, which proved to be the shayuk. beyond the river, rocky mountains were seen, apparently nearly as high as those near at hand, and perfectly barren. in descending from the pass, i soon left the surface of the ice, which, as soon as the slope became abrupt, was too rugged to be walked over. i then got upon the moraine; about half-way down, the glacier, which had latterly been almost entirely covered with debris, came to an end, but a moraine continued a long way down, and the remainder of the descent was very stony. i encamped at about , feet on a dry gravelly plain, close to the broad valley of the shayuk, but at least feet above it. to the right, in a very deep ravine, was a small stream, on the banks of which were patches of snow. the name of the ground on which i encamped, which is a usual halting-place, was sassar, and the turki merchants call the pass also by the same name. [sidenote: plain of shayuk river. _august, ._] from sassar not more than three or four miles of the upward course of the river were visible, but within that distance three glaciers were in sight. two of these stopped short of the valley, while the third, which was at the most distant point visible, appeared to descend to the river. an enormous precipice, which must have been at least feet in height, rose on the opposite side of the valley beyond the glaciers. downward the valley of the shayuk was seen for nearly ten miles, as a wide gravelly plain, with high rugged mountains on both sides. on the morning after my arrival at sassar, it was snowing slightly at daybreak, and continued to do so till near noon. the snow melted almost immediately on the level ground, but on the mountain-sides it lay all day, down as low as the level of my tent. the afternoon was dull and stormy, but no more snow fell. this unfavourable weather was of less consequence, because i had determined to halt in order to make fresh arrangements for my baggage, being advised not to take any cattle beyond sassar, the roads in advance being very bad. i afterwards found that they were gravelly, which is more injurious than even rock to the unprotected feet of the tibetan bullock. the gravelly sloping hills round my encampment were covered with abundance of vegetation, but few of the species were alpine, and almost all were familiar to me. a species of _allium_, with purple flowers and broad strap-shaped leaves, was the most plentiful of all. _thermopsis_ was frequent, in fruit; other common plants were species of _artemisia_, _cynoglossum_, _cicer_, and _dracocephalum_. the only new species were a very handsome dark purple _nepeta_, which grew in large tufts among loose shingle, and a tall _saussurea_, by far the largest species of the genus which i had found in tibet, but i believe one of those described from jacquemont's collections. a species of _rheum_ occurred occasionally on dry stony places, but it was the same which i had found several times before. on the th of august i resumed my journey. the morning was misty, with a few flakes of snow at intervals, and the sky remained overcast all day, with high squalls of wind. my road lay across the shayuk, but i found it necessary to ascend about half a mile on the high bank before i reached a place where it was possible to descend to its gravelly plain, which was more than half a mile wide, and quite destitute of any kind of vegetation. the river was running in several channels, with an average depth of about a foot and a half; in one place only it was as much as two feet. the current ran with considerable rapidity. on the opposite side of the plain of the shayuk, i entered an extremely narrow ravine, bounded by precipices of black slate, down which ran a small stream, which crossed at every turn of the ravine from one side to the other, generally close to the rocky wall, and had to be forded a great number of times. after a mile and a half, the road, suddenly quitting the ravine, turned to the right, and ascended by a steep pathway to a wide, very gently rising plain, bounded on both sides by snowy mountains. this plain was partly grassy, but mostly composed of hard dry clay. in a few spots where snow appeared recently to have lain, the clay was soft and treacherous, sinking under the feet. about a mile's walk over this plain brought me to the highest part of it, beyond which it began to slope to the eastward, at first very gently but afterwards more rapidly. many large isolated boulders were observed on its surface. it was curious to observe that the gravel produced by the disintegration of the mountains (chiefly, i suppose, by snow-slips in winter) differed in colour on the two sides of the valley, and that the line of demarcation followed very closely the centre of the valley. the northern mountains, being granitic, produced a hard quartzy gravel, while those to the south, which were schistose, contributed a dark-coloured gravel of sharp slaty fragments. on the lower part of the descent, a small rivulet made its appearance in the centre of the plain, and i encamped, after nine and a half miles, close to an open valley of considerable size, whose course seemed to be south-east. [sidenote: murgai. _august, ._] this encamping-ground is called by the turki merchants murgai, by the tibetans, murgo-chumik; the former name being probably a corruption of the latter. it was the last place at which i was to expect a sufficiency of fuel, or even, with rare exceptions, of grass for my horse, which, though not often used, i was unwilling to leave behind, lest i should by any accident be disabled from walking. the temperature of boiling water here indicated an elevation of about , feet, but as the weather was stormy and threatening, this was probably several hundred feet more than the truth. a number of springs appeared to break out of the ground close to my tent, where there was a considerable extent of boggy pasture, much greener than is usual at so great an elevation. a few bushes of _myricaria elegans_ were the only shrubs, but tufts of _artemisia_ and _eurotia_ were sufficiently plentiful to produce an abundance of fuel. in the boggy meadow, a pretty little species of _primula_ was very abundant; the other plants observed were a white _pedicularis_, two species of _triglochin_, and some _carices_ and grasses. the morning of the th of august was bright and beautiful, the clouds having been entirely dissipated during the night. the wide valley near which i was encamped descended, as i was informed, to the shayuk, which it was said to join through a rocky gorge eight or ten miles lower down than sassar. along its course the merchants are in the habit of ascending at the season when the valley of the shayuk is followed all the way from nubra, which is only practicable in early spring and late in the autumn, at which times that river is fordable throughout. it is a fortunate circumstance for the trade that there is thus a choice of routes, for at these seasons the sassar pass must be in a great measure blocked up with snow. [sidenote: ascent of murgai valley. _august, ._] on my arrival at murgai, i had observed that the mountains to the north were very precipitous, and had been puzzled to decide what direction the road might take. on starting, however, i found that it lay along the upward course of the stream which watered the valley before me, and which here issued from the mountains through a very narrow ravine with high precipices on both sides. at first i ascended to the top of a platform of conglomerate which lay at the base of the mountains. the ground was strewed with fragments of limestone, evidently derived from the mountains above; and about half a mile from camp i passed a calcareous spring which had deposited large quantities of tufa throughout the whole of the space between its source and the face of the precipice which overhung the river: the thickness of the incrustation was, in front of the cliff, from six to eight feet. a little further on, the road descended abruptly to the stream, and, after crossing it several times within a few hundred yards, ascended equally abruptly the steep stony slopes on its left bank, at a point where its course, which had previously been nearly north, turned rather suddenly to the eastward. on emerging from the ravine, two small glaciers came in sight almost directly opposite, in branches of a narrow and very deep gorge, which descended from the mountains to the north nearly in the original direction of the ravine. the road ascended to the height of at least feet, and then proceeded along the steep slopes, alternately ascending and descending over very stony ground, occasionally covered with loose limestone shingle. the stream was visible below, running through a narrow rocky fissure. after about a mile and a half, the road again descended to the river, now a little wider, with a gravelly channel. here i found that there were two roads. one of these, for loaded animals, ascended steeply on the north side, to the height of nearly feet, and again descended very abruptly. the other was in the bed of the stream, which was partially filled up with huge blocks of rock. the stream being almost dry, i took the lower road, which for pedestrians was only objectionable from its great roughness, and because it was necessary to cross the rivulet occasionally. after about a quarter of a mile, the ravine suddenly opened out into a gravelly plain nearly half a mile in width, traversed by numerous branches of the little stream: these were now almost dry, owing to the cloudy weather of the last few days having in a great measure stopped the melting of the glaciers by which they were supplied. along this open plain i continued for nearly five miles. in one place only it contracted again for a few hundred yards into a gorge full of huge rocky masses heaped one on another, by which it was apparently quite blocked up; this however was avoided by a slight ascent among angular limestone fragments. on descending into the plain again, i observed a very small patch of grassy ground on a bank a few feet above the level of the stream, the only herbage seen during the day. about a mile further on i encamped, after a march of nine miles, on the south side of the plain, on a dry bank elevated four or five feet above its gravelly bed. there was a sudden change in the direction of the valley just at my encamping-ground, its further course being in a direction west of north. the elevation of my tent was very nearly , feet. high, rugged, precipitous mountains, with snowy tops, rose on both sides of the road during the whole of this day's journey. the rock throughout the day was limestone, a few thin layers of slate excepted. it varied much in colour, but was generally very dark and highly crystalline, and often contained large masses of white calcareous spar. it was distinctly stratified, and occasionally exhibited obscure traces of what might be fossils, but which were too indistinct to be relied upon. the principal mass of snow seen was nearly due south of my encampment, but this was probably owing to the northerly exposure of the mountains on that side. the vegetation observed during the day was scanty in the extreme; _eurotia_, a _saussurea_ with very viscid leaves, _oxytropis chiliophylla_, and _biebersteinia odora_ being almost the only plants on the stony slopes and shingle during the first half of the way. on the gravelly plain there was no vegetation at all, but on its margins a few scattered plants were occasionally to be found, a _pyrethrum_ and two or three _cruciferæ_ being the species noted. the most remarkable plant observed during the day was a species of _alsine_ in dense hemispherical tufts, a foot or more in diameter. this plant (the moss of moorcroft's visit to garu, and of other travellers in and on the borders of tibet) is a common tibetan plant at very great elevations, , feet being perhaps not far from its lowest level[ ]. on the th my road lay entirely along the gravelly plain in a direction always considerably to the west of north. the plain gradually narrowed as i advanced, and came to an end by contracting into a rocky ravine, just as i halted for the day. the mountains on the left were still very lofty; one glacier was seen on that side. on the right the mountains were lower and quite without snow, but extremely rugged and rocky. the slope of the valley was scarcely perceptible, but i found at the end of my day's journey, which amounted to twelve miles, that i had risen above feet, the height of my encampment being a little more than , feet. the day was bright and sunny, and the stream, which, in the morning was quite insignificant, not three feet wide and scarcely ankle-deep, had increased much by the afternoon, and had become of a dirty red colour. it was twenty feet wide, and a foot and a half deep, where i crossed it just before halting. the vegetation was still more scanty than the day before, though most of the plants then noted were again seen occasionally. small tufts of a little _stipa_ were not uncommon, constituting almost the only food for cattle, as patches of green grass, a few feet in diameter, were only seen twice during the day. two very small _saussureæ_ formed dense tufted masses on the surface of the ground, and a little rose-coloured _astragalus_ spread itself prostrate over the gravel; indeed, this mode of growth seemed to be characteristic either of the climate or soil, as i found, though rarely, a species of _myricaria_, with short thick wiry branches lying flat on the ground and spreading into patches a yard in diameter. [sidenote: remarkable limestone. _august, ._] not far from the point where the direction of the valley changed so suddenly, the blue or greyish massive but brittle limestone of the higher mountains gave place to a rock of a very different appearance. this was also a limestone, perfectly white, or with a very faint yellowish or greyish tinge, and either quite amorphous, with a saccharine texture, and often honeycombed, or composed of a congeries of very minute crystals. occasionally, but rarely, rolled pebbles were seen in it. no traces of stratification were anywhere discoverable, in which respect it differed very strikingly from the limestone of the previous day, in which lines of stratification, much contorted, were well seen in many sections exposed at different heights. this remarkable limestone formed the rock on both sides of the gravelly plain during the greater part of the day's journey. in one place only metamorphic slate was seen below it, dipping at a high angle to the north-east. the limestone was extremely brittle, and the cliffs terminated above in sharp pinnacles of the most fantastic shapes, while at the base they were covered with heaps of angular debris[ ]. a coarse conglomerate replaced the limestone during the last mile previous to my encamping. [sidenote: elevated plain of karakoram. _august, ._] on the th of august, after following for a few hundred yards the course of the stream through a narrow rocky gorge, the road turned abruptly to the right, up a dry stony ravine, ascending rather rapidly. the coarse conglomerate of the lower part of this ravine was succeeded by a coarse sandstone, and that again by an incoherent alluvial conglomerate with a clayey matrix. after a short distance, the ravine widened out into a narrow, gravelly, moderately steep valley, with low rounded hills on either side. by degrees, as i increased my elevation, superb snowy mountains came in sight to the south-west, and on attaining the top of the ascent an open, gravelly, somewhat undulating plain lay before me, while behind a grand snowy range was seen in perfection, forming apparently a continuous chain, with a direction from south-east to north-west. the snow was to the eye perfectly continuous in both directions as far as the mountains were visible, and appeared everywhere to lie on the mountain-sides to three and four thousand feet below their tops. as i had passed through this apparent chain of mountains without rising above , feet, the continuity of the snowy mass was of course a deception. many very lofty peaks rose above the others at intervals. the height of the more distant ones i could not venture to estimate, but i felt at the time fully convinced that a very high peak, just opposite to me, and distant, according to bearings taken afterwards, about ten miles (in a direct line) from the edge of the plain, was or feet higher than the ground on which i stood, or at least , feet above the level of the sea. i do not wish that any great degree of confidence should be placed on this estimate, but i think it right that i should state my impression at the time, formed without any wish to exaggerate. the stream along which i had ascended during the two last days lay in a deep ravine far below the level of the plain. its source was evidently not far distant, and it issued no doubt from a large glacier at the head of the gorge, though the slight upward slope of the plain to the west prevented me from seeing its precise origin. in a northerly direction the plain appeared to extend for six or seven miles, and beyond it lay several ranges of mountains running from east to west, but only very moderately patched with snow. eastward the plain diminished slightly in elevation for four or five miles, at which distance there was a low range of hills, and immediately at their foot a small stream apparently running to the northward. beyond these low hills were a number of lofty black peaks to the northward of the great mass of snow, on the further side of which the country probably dips to the eastward in the direction of khoten. every one of my guides positively denied the existence of any road in that direction; afraid, perhaps, that i might attempt to proceed by it; for i learned afterwards, on my return to le, from a merchant of yarkand, that there was an unfrequented path by which khoten might be reached, if the chinese authorities were willing to permit it to be used. my road lay across the open plain in a direction very little west of north. the surface of the ground was covered with a few boulders and many small pebbles, for the most part rolled, and very various in composition; granite, greenstones of many sorts, amygdaloid, limestone, and different-coloured slates, being all seen. many of these were encrusted with a calcareous concretion, and the whole plain had the appearance of having formerly been the bed of a lake. skeletons and scattered bones of horses indicated with great exactness the road across this arid tract, which seemed to be almost destitute of either animal life or vegetation. the only living beings seen were a few ravens, a hoopoe, and a small bird somewhat like a sparrow. tufts of the moss-like _alsine_, referred to on the th, were the only vegetation, except in the bed of a little rivulet near the middle of the plain, which produced a few specimens of _saussurea_ and _sibbaldia_. this streamlet rose in a large patch of snow about half a mile to the westward, and ran towards the east, turning afterwards nearly due north along the foot of a low range of hills mentioned above. the elevation of its bed, which was the lowest part of the table-land in the direction in which i crossed it, was , feet, and the lowest part of the plain was immediately under the low hills to the eastward, where it probably was about , feet. there was no snow on the plain, except one patch close to its highest part, in which the little rivulet had its source, and a very few remnants on the shady side of a low undulating ridge, which crosses it near its northern border. after about five miles, having been ascending very gradually since leaving the banks of the stream, i passed through an opening between two low gravelly hills, and found myself looking down upon a wide valley, into which i descended very gradually along a dry ravine. passing a small patch of swampy, grassy ground, at which i left my horse with a servant till my return, as there was no food for him further on, i arrived, about two miles from the point at which the valley just came in sight, at a small river about thirty feet wide and ankle-deep, running from east to west. according to the information of my guides, this was the river which runs past sassar,--in fact, the shayuk. none of them had followed its course, but they assured me that there was no doubt of the accuracy of their statement, which indeed is confirmed by the fact (which i mention on the authority of yarkand merchants) that formerly travellers used to ascend the shayuk from sassar, in order to reach the karakoram pass, instead of pursuing the circuitous route by which i travelled; but that about ten or twelve years ago the glaciers above sassar descended so low as entirely to prevent any one passing in that direction, for which reason it became necessary to adopt a new road[ ]. [sidenote: shayuk river. _august, ._] the course of the shayuk was visible for several miles, running nearly due west. beyond that distance, it disappeared among rocky hills. fording the river, i ascended a steep bank, to get upon a stony platform, over which i proceeded in a northerly direction, gradually approaching a small stream which came from the north to join the shayuk. passing a low rounded hill to the right, i descended after about two miles into the ravine excavated by this little stream, and, crossing it, encamped under low limestone rocks on its right bank after a march of twelve miles. i did not ascertain the elevation of this halting-ground, but, from the result of an experiment made at a place which appeared nearly midway (in point of elevation) between it and the bed of the shayuk, where i got a boiling-point, indicating an elevation of , feet, i estimate the bed of the river at , feet, and my encamping-ground of the th at , feet. the plain all round seemed destitute of vegetation, so that, as on the two last days, there was a great scarcity of fuel, which had to be collected from a distance of many miles; and consisted only of the roots of a small bushy _artemisia_ or _tanacetum_, which rose three or four inches above the ground. during these three days, i suffered very considerably from the effects of the rarefaction of the air, being never free from a dull headache, which was increased on the slightest exertion. [sidenote: karakoram pass. _august, ._] on the th of august, leaving my tent standing, i started to visit the karakoram pass, the limit of my journey to the northward. the country round my halting-place was open, except to the north, where a stream descended through a narrow valley from a range of hills, the highest part of which was apparently about feet above me. all the rivers had formed for themselves depressions in the platform of gravel which was spread over the plain. at first i kept on the south bank of the river close to which i had halted, but about a mile from camp i crossed a large tributary which descended from the south-west, and soon after, turning round the rocky termination of a low range of hills, entered a narrow valley which came from a little west of north-west. at the foot of the rocky point of the range were three very small huts, built against the rock as a place of shelter for travellers, in case of stormy or snowy weather; and bones of horses were here scattered about the plain in greater profusion than usual. [sidenote: vegetation of karakoram _august, ._] i ascended this valley for about six miles: its width varied from yards to about half a mile, gradually widening as i ascended. the slope was throughout gentle. an accumulation of alluvium frequently formed broad and gently sloping banks, which were cut into cliffs by the river. now and then large tracts covered with glacial boulders were passed over; and several small streams were crossed, descending from the northern mountains through narrow ravines. about eight miles from my starting-point the road left the bank of the stream, and began to ascend obliquely and gradually on the sides of the hills. the course of the valley beyond where i left it continued unaltered, sloping gently up to a large snow-bed, which covered the side of a long sloping ridge four or five miles off. after a mile, i turned suddenly to the right, and, ascending very steeply over fragments of rock for four or five hundred yards, i found myself on the top of the karakoram pass--a rounded ridge connecting two hills which rose somewhat abruptly to the height of perhaps feet above me. the height of the pass was , feet, the boiling-point of water being · °, and the temperature of the air about °. towards the north, much to my disappointment, there was no distant view. on that side the descent was steep for about yards, beyond which distance a small streamlet occupied the middle of a very gently sloping valley, which curved gradually to the left, and disappeared behind a stony ridge at the distance of half a mile. the hills opposite to me were very abrupt, and rose a little higher than the pass; they were quite without snow, nor was there any on the pass itself, though large patches lay on the shoulder of the hill to the right. to the south, on the opposite side of the valley which i had ascended, the mountains, which were sufficiently high to exclude entirely all view of the lofty snowy mountain seen the day before, were round-topped and covered with snow. vegetation was entirely wanting on the top of the pass, but the loose shingle with which it was covered was unfavourable to the growth of plants, otherwise, no doubt, lichens at least would have been seen. large ravens were circling about overhead, apparently quite unaffected by the rarity of the atmosphere, as they seemed to fly with just as much ease as at the level of the sea. the great extent of the modern alluvial deposit concealed in a great measure the ancient rocks. at my encampment a ridge of very hard limestone, dipping at a high angle, skirted the stream. further up the valley a hard slate occurred, and in another place a dark blue slate, containing much iron pyrites, and crumbling rapidly when exposed to the atmosphere. fragments of this rock were scattered over the plain in all states of decay. on the crest of the pass the rock _in situ_ was limestone, showing obscure traces of fossils, but too indistinct to be determined; the shingle, which was scattered over the ridge, was chiefly a brittle black clay-slate. on my return no plants were met with till i had almost reached the bank of the stream. the first species which occurred was a small purple-flowered _crucifera_ (_parrya exscapa_ of meyer). throughout the day the number of flowering plants observed was seventeen, of which three were grasses, three _saussureæ_, and two _cruciferæ_; there was also one species of each of the following genera, _aster_, _nepeta_, _gymnandra_, _sedum_, _lychnis_, _potentilla_, and _phaca_; the dense-tufted _alsine_, and a shrubby _artemisia_ with yellow flowers, complete the number. the only animals seen, besides ravens, were a bird about the size of a sparrow, a bright metallic-coloured carrion-fly, and a small dusky butterfly. returning by the same road, i arrived at my tent a little after sunset, the distance from the top of the pass being about ten miles. [sidenote: murgai river. _august, ._] while travelling at these great elevations the weather was uniformly serene and beautiful. there was but little wind, and the sky was bright and cloudless. at night the cold was severe, and the edges of the streams were in the morning always frozen. on my return towards sassar i found that the bright sunny weather which had continued since the th, had made a great alteration in the state of the stream in the wide gravelly valley along which the road ran. it was now impetuous and muddy, increasing considerably towards the afternoon, when it ran in several channels, which were not always easily fordable. in some places the gravel was throughout the whole width of the plain saturated with water, and gave way under the feet, so that it became necessary to ascend on the stony sloping banks on one side or other, instead of following the centre of the valley. at murgai, on the evening of the rd of august, just after sunset, i felt three slight shocks of an earthquake. on that day the weather again became dull, and on the morning of the th there was a slight fall of snow for about an hour. the remarkable open plain to the south of the karakoram pass occupies a deep concavity in the great chain of the kouenlun, which there appears to form a curve, the convexity of which looks northward. the main range to the eastward was distinctly visible, forming a range of snowless, but certainly very lofty, black peaks beyond the sources of the most eastern branch of the shayuk; while the heavily-snowed mountains, the summits of which were seen further east, were probably also a part of the axis of the chain, which apparently bends round the sources of the river of khoten, or of some stream draining the northern flanks of the kouenlun. to the westward, no peaks rose behind the snowy ridge which terminated the western branch of the shayuk a little west of the karakoram pass, beyond which the surface probably dips, while the axis of the kouenlun bends to the southward, towards the glaciers of the nubra river. [sidenote: snow level. _august, ._] in crossing the open plain on my return towards sassar, i had the splendid snowy peaks to the south-west always in view, and was able to form a tolerable estimate of their appearance and elevation. the range was very heavily snowed, and from the lateness of the season but little additional thaw could be expected. what seemed the highest peak was very near, and its position could be determined by bearings with little risk of error. it rose abruptly in the midst of a great mass of snow, which filled the hollows and slopes of the range all around. the surface of the plain over which i was travelling sloped very gently up to the westward, and partly concealed the lower edge of the perpetual snow on the mountains behind, the limit of which was, i think, between , and , feet. to the northward and eastward the snow-line was certainly much higher. here and there, where there was shade, there were patches below , feet, but even up to , feet there was no continuous snow. as the source of the snow-fall on these mountains is no doubt the indian ocean to the south-west, the gradual rise of the snow-level in advancing north-east, and the occurrence of the highest peaks, and of the greatest mass of snow on branches of the chain, and not on its main axis, are quite in accordance with what is usually the case throughout every part of the himalaya. the occurrence of a nearly level plain, six or eight miles in diameter, with a mean elevation of not less than , feet, is certainly very remarkable. the ridge or watershed of the plain appeared to me parallel to the deep ravine, excavated by the stream along which i had travelled on the th of august, and at no great distance from it, as the descent was abrupt. all the northern and western part of this level tract was composed of loosely cohering matters, and was possibly of lacustrine origin; but a much more accurate acquaintance with the outline, structure, and elevation of the plain will be necessary before any certain conclusion can be drawn as to its age or origin. [sidenote: glaciers of sassar. _august, ._] before leaving sassar, i visited the glaciers which descend into the valley of the shayuk, a little to the north of that place. the path at first lay along the high platform on which i was encamped, which was precipitous towards the shayuk; it afterwards descended to the level of the river, close to which i travelled for some distance over enormous boulders. the bluff ends of two glaciers were seen high above at the top of the precipitous alluvial bank, and after a walk of upwards of three miles, i arrived at a most superb glacier, which, descending a broad and deep valley in the mountains, and latterly in the alluvial platform, entered the bed of the shayuk at the bottom of a deep bend, and fairly crossed the river, which flowed out below the ice. on the opposite side of the river, the mountains were precipitous a few hundred feet from the water's edge, but the stream of ice did not extend to the foot of the precipice, but stopped a very few feet up the opposite bank. i could of course only see the position of the ice at the edge of the glacier: how far it extended in the centre i could not tell. the glacier was extremely rugged, being covered with huge sharp pinnacles of ice, and i was obliged to ascend a long way parallel to its side before i could find a place where it could be crossed. near its lower extremity it rose high above the surface of the plain, and sloped rapidly down to the river: its sides were there scarped and inaccessible, but higher up it lay in a deep hollow in the alluvial conglomerate. a moment's reflection showed how impossible it was for clay and boulders to resist the friction of such an enormous mass; still i was much pleased to observe the glacier buried, as it were, in a groove of its own forming, from the light which was thereby thrown on the origin of the many broad, shallow, flat-bottomed valleys which occasionally occur in the modern alluvial and lacustrine formations in all parts of tibet, as for instance at karsar in nubra, and at bazgo below le. an ancient moraine, deposited at a period when the glacier must have been much more bulky than it now is, skirted the edge of the high bank of alluvium, and prevented the ice from being seen till close at hand, and then only by mounting on the top of the pile of boulders. down this moraine, which on the face towards the glacier was extremely steep and perhaps sixty feet high, i descended to the surface of the present moraine. the descent required great caution, many of the blocks being loose and easily displaced. when i had reached the surface of the glacier, the passage was not difficult. about a quarter of its width on each side was occupied by blocks of stone; the centre was almost entirely ice, extremely irregular, and here and there a little fissured. the pathway, which was only marked by the footsteps of two men whom i had sent the day before to select a place for crossing, at one time ascended to the top of a ridge of ice, at another descended into a deep hollow. at the time i crossed (about eleven a.m.) numerous streams of water had begun to flow in furrows on the surface of the ice. the whole width was close upon half a mile, and on the north side i ascended a steep moraine similar to that which i had previously descended. from the top of the bank on which the moraine rested, a second glacier came in sight at the distance of a mile. my exploring party reported that they had been unable to find a point at which this glacier could be crossed, and as from the appearance of the mountains behind i felt certain that after crossing it i should only arrive at a third, i did not long persevere in trying to find a passage, but descended to its extremity in order to see whether or not i could walk round it, as it did not appear to enter the water. at the bottom of the valley it spread out in a fan-shaped manner to the width of at least a mile; perhaps indeed much more, for as i failed in getting round it, i was unable to ascertain precisely. at its south-east corner, where it was nearly a hundred yards from the river, a considerable stream, white with suspended mud, was rushing out from beneath an arched vault of ice, even before sunrise. to avoid fording this icy stream, the margins of which were thickly frozen, i crossed with a good deal of difficulty an angle of the end of the glacier. on its surface i found several small moraines, which had sunk down into grooves ten or fifteen feet deep, and had therefore been invisible from outside. further progress on the ice was stopped by cliffs which were not accessible without ladders, so that i had to descend to the bank of the shayuk. i walked along between the ice and the river, till my advance was stopped by the glacier fairly projecting into the water in such a manner that i could not see anything of what lay beyond. the icy wall being quite inaccessible, i could not get upon the surface of the glacier to attempt to advance in that way, nor could i ford the river, which was very deep. the terminal cliff of the glacier varied in height from fifteen to thirty feet, and a talus of large stones lay in front, evidently deposited by it. indeed, while i was there i saw several small stones which projected from the face of the cliff, drop out by the melting of the ice in which they were imbedded. many cavities were seen in the ice, from which large stones must have dropped out no longer ago than the day before, and the stones which corresponded in size to them were seen lying close at hand. before i left the front of the glacier, the heat of the sun having become considerable, rapid thaw had commenced; rills of water trickled down its face in every direction, and the sound of falling stones was to be heard on all sides. now and then a report as loud as that of a cannon was heard, caused, as i supposed, by the fall of a very large boulder from one of the smaller glaciers, which stopped abruptly at the top of the high cliff of alluvium. before quitting finally these magnificent glaciers, i ascended to a height on the mountain-side in order to see whether or not there was any lake in sight corresponding to that laid down, from information, by mr. vigne as nubra or khundan chu. the mountains were very steep and stony, and were covered above , feet with snow, which had fallen in a storm a few days before; i did not, therefore, get up to any great elevation, probably not beyond , feet, but at that height i could see nothing of the river beyond the second glacier, though its course through the mountains could be traced distinctly enough. it is, however, highly improbable that any permanent lake exists. such could, i think, only be formed by the stoppage of the river by a glacier, an obstruction which could only be temporary, and would inevitably be followed by a terrific inundation, such as is known repeatedly to have devastated the valley of the shayuk. [sidenote: return to le. _august, ._] it had been my original intention, on my return from karakoram, to follow the course of the shayuk all the way from sassar to nubra, but on my return to the former place after visiting the pass, i found that there was no probability of the road along the river being practicable for at least three weeks, the depth of the stream, which requires frequently to be forded, being still much too great; i was therefore reluctantly compelled to return by the same route as that by which i had reached sassar. early in september, i found the crops in nubra ripe, the barley being mostly cut; buckwheat and a few fields of millet, however, were still quite green. the shayuk had very considerably diminished in size: one branch which in july had been three feet deep was quite dry on the th of september. on the th of that month i crossed the pass above le, the state of which was a good deal altered. the little lake, which on the th of july was still frozen over, was now free of ice, nor was there any snow, except a very few small patches, below the steep snow-bank on the northern side. the snow, which had covered this steep descent, had melted away, exposing a mass of ice, which was not crossed without a good deal of difficulty and some little risk. loaded cattle were unable to get to the top of the pass till the afternoon. the snow on the south face had almost entirely gone. i reached le just in time to escape some very unsettled weather, during which snow fell on the mountains down to about , feet. this was ushered in by very high wind, blowing in gusts from all points of the compass. heavy clouds formed, but always high: on the th there was a good deal of thunder, and during the following night a smart shower of rain, which lasted about an hour. the inhabitants were busy with the operations of harvest. a coarse knife or rude sickle was employed to cut the wheat and barley as close to the ground as possible; they were then tied into large bundles, each sufficient for one load, which were carried (usually by women) to the threshing-floors, not without considerable loss, from the ripeness of the ears and the great bulk of the loads, which were rubbed against every obstacle, particularly the narrow walls of the pathways between the fields. the grain was trodden out of the ear by cattle and asses, all muzzled, on small threshing-floors made of clay beaten hard. it was then winnowed, by being gently shaken out of flat vessels held as high as possible above the ground. on the th of september i left le for kashmir. for five days my route was the same as that by which i had travelled in july. on the fourth day i reached kalatze on the indus, and on the th of september i encamped at the village of lama-yuru, close to which the road from zanskar joins that along which i proposed to travel towards dras. in the valley of the indus a great part of the vegetation was already destroyed by the night frosts; _chenopodiaceæ_ were now the most numerous family, and these were rapidly ripening their seeds. in the narrow ravine of the wandla river, on the ascent to lama-yuru, i found a few plants indicative of lower and hotter regions than those in which i had lately been travelling: a little wiry _lactuca_ with decurrent leaves, a spathulate-leaved _statice_, and a small _hyoscyamus_, all plants of the neighbourhood of iskardo, were those which i noted. [sidenote: phatu pass. _september, ._] on the th of september i crossed the phatu pass, stated by moorcroft to be , feet above the sea, but which major cunningham has ascertained to be only about , feet. the discrepancy is probably owing to some error in moorcroft's manuscripts, from which the elevations given in his work were calculated by professor wilson. in the neighbourhood of lama-yuru lacustrine clay occurs in great abundance, and the ascent to the summit of this pass was gentle, up a gravelly valley, which was full of alluvium, almost to the very summit. the pass did not nearly attain the elevation requisite for alpine vegetation, still the flora was a good deal altered; two large-flowered thistles, _caragana versicolor_, and several species of _umbelliferæ_ were observed, none of which had occurred in the hills to the north of the indus; the prickly _statice_ was also common, but the _chenopodiaceæ_ of the indus valley had entirely disappeared. the descent along the kanji river to karbu, at which i encamped, was long and gradual, down a wide valley skirted by gently sloping hills, which, at some distance on the left, rose into high mountains, but on the right attained only a moderate elevation, the indus being at no great distance. alluvium occurred throughout the descent, latterly indurated into a coarse conglomerate. [sidenote: namika pass. _september, ._] from karbu i marched on the st to molbil, crossing the namika pass. the previous night had been very threatening, with violent wind, and at daybreak all the hills around were covered with snow; it was still snowing slightly, but none lay in the valley, and before nine o'clock it cleared, and the remainder of the forenoon was tolerably fine. for two miles i followed the banks of the kanji river; afterwards the road turned to the left to ascend a clayey valley, to the rounded summit of a ridge separating that river from the pashkyum on the left. the pass has been determined by major cunningham, who crossed it in october, , to be , feet above the sea. the descent was long, but not rapid after the first mile. the upper part was desert, but lower down villages were frequent and cultivation extensive. at first the rocks were clay-slate, but these were replaced in the lower part by a hard limestone; alluvium was everywhere plentiful, forming, near molbil, table-topped platforms of indurated conglomerate, horizontally stratified, and faced towards the stream by scarped cliffs. the afternoon was again stormy, and a good deal of rain fell during the night. [sidenote: pashkyum. _september, ._] next day i made a long march to pashkyum, following the course of the river of that name. the descent was very gradual, and the road varied much in character, the valley being sometimes open, at other times narrow and rocky. the villages increased in numbers as the elevation diminished, and latterly for several miles cultivation was continuous. pashkyum is not more than feet above the sea, and accordingly the season was much less advanced than it had been three and four thousand feet higher, the weather being much milder, and the summer heat no doubt much more considerable than in the neighbourhood of le. the crops had long been cut, except the buckwheat, the fields of which were however quite ripe; the plants were being plucked up by the roots and laid down separately in the fields to dry, previous to removal to the threshing-floor. a remarkable change had taken place in the appearance of the country during this day's journey. the banks of the river were frequently shaded with immense willows, and the trees of the cultivated lands were numerous and of great size. many new forms of plants were also seen, though the general character of the flora was unaltered. shrubby _artemisiæ_ were extremely plentiful, and the _perowskia_, _ballota_, _echinops_, and _iris_ of the indus valley were very abundant. the new plants were all species of kashmir or iskardo, such as _verbascum thapsus_, _lappa_, _valeriana_, _swertia_, and _gentiana moorcroftiana_. _trifolium repens_ and _fragiferum_ grew in the pastures close to the river, and tropical species of _setaria_ and _amaranthus_ were common weeds in the corn-fields. [sidenote: singular sandstone formation. _september, ._] in the immediate neighbourhood of pashkyum the rocks consist of coarse-grained grey or white sandstones, often containing small water-worn pebbles, and alternating with dark crumbling pyritiferous shales. these rocks, which dip to the east or south-east, at an angle of not more than °, rise on the north side of the valley to the summit of a long sloping ridge, which appears to overhang the indus. as these sandstones and shales contained, so far as i could observe, no fossils, their age is a matter of complete uncertainty. they were quite independent of the modern lacustrine formation, patches of which, perfectly horizontally stratified, and therefore unconformable to the other, were seen in several places resting on the sandstone. these sandstones perhaps reach as far as the indus, but i was not able to determine how far they extended to the southward, in which direction high and rugged mountains, now covered with snow, skirted the valley at a distance of a few miles. [sidenote: kargil. _september, ._] on the rd of september, i followed the pashkyum river to its junction with that of dras. crossing, at starting, to the left bank of the river, the road lay for a mile through cultivated lands; it then ascended to a platform of alluvium, which blocked up the valley, while the river disappeared in a narrow ravine far to the right. five miles from pashkyum, i descended very abruptly from this elevated plain, to the village of kargil, where the pashkyum river is joined by a large stream from suru, called by moorcroft the kartse; which i crossed by a good wooden bridge, close to a small fort, occupied by a thannadar with a small party of soldiers. the cultivated lands of kargil, which is elevated about feet, are extensive and well wooded; but immediately below, the valley becomes narrow and rocky, and continues so for more than a mile, till the stream joins the dras river. nearly due south of kargil the stratified rocks of the mountains are replaced by igneous rocks, and the point of contact of the two is well marked on the precipitous face of a lofty peak. at first the igneous rock was dark and resembling greenstone, but it soon changed to granite, which, as i had observed in april, occurs everywhere in the valley of dras, below karbu. i encamped on the right bank of the dras river, about a mile above the village of hardas. henceforward my route was the same as i had travelled in april. on the th i travelled to tashgong, and on the th i arrived at dras. in most parts of the valley i found a great deal of alluvium, but i saw none of the fine clay which is characteristic of the purely lacustrine strata above the village of bilergu, where i had observed it in april. gravelly conglomerate was everywhere the prevailing form,--sometimes indurated, but generally soft and shingly. most of these deposits were unstratified, but distinct stratification was far from uncommon. the alluvium often capped low hills in the open valley many hundred feet above the bed of the river, and it was observed at frequent intervals in every part of the valley, from the junction of the pashkyum river to dras itself. [sidenote: alluvium of dras. _september, ._] the great extent and remarkable forms of alluvium which i had seen in the district through which i had travelled, between kalatze and dras, induced me to note with care the position and composition of the alluvial beds of the dras valley. the known low elevation of the zoji pass, between dras and kashmir, which is only , feet above the sea, made the great extent and continuity of these deposits very remarkable, and with difficulty explicable, unless on the supposition of the existence of a series of lakes separated from one another by extensive accumulations of alluvium, now to a great extent removed by denudation. the lacustrine clays of lower dras, about ulding, appear continuous with those of the indus valley about tarkata, but the clays of pashkyum, which are separated from them by a very thick mass of alluvium, which occupies that part of the dras and pashkyum rivers immediately above the junction of the two, may have been deposited in an isolated lake. further east again, at lamayuru, there are beds of pure clay as high as the summit of the zoji pass, so that the alluvial beds of the upper part of the phatu ridge must have separated the lake in which these were deposited from the more western waters, which (it may be conjectured) at the same time covered the whole of the valley of molbil and pashkyum. the vegetation of dras was still very tibetan, but transitional forms were becoming frequent. the _chenopodiaceæ_ (except _eurotia_) had all disappeared, but _artemisiæ_ and _umbelliferæ_ were very abundant. the new forms were all kashmirian, and indicated a considerable increase of humidity: a small white-flowered balsam was observed not far from hardas, and _prunella_, _thymus serpyllum_, an _achillea_, _senecio_, _galium_, and _silene inflata_ were all seen below the fort of dras. at that place the harvest was but just over; indeed, a field or two of wheat were still uncut. [sidenote: maten. _september, ._] on the th of september, i marched to maten, along a road which, in april, had been entirely covered with deep snow. part of the road was rocky, but in general the valley was open. during this day's journey, a very great change took place in the vegetation. hitherto, kashmirian plants had been the exception, the greater part of the species being tibetan; to-day the reverse was the case, most of the plants seen being those common in the comparatively moist climate of kunawar, or species new to me, but belonging to families or genera which inhabit a more humid climate than tibet. groves of dwarf willows lined the banks of the stream, and nearly sixty species of plants not observed in tibet were collected during the day. _vitis_, _aconitum_, _hypericum_, _vernonia_, a prickly juniper, _convallaria_, and _tulipa_, may be selected as illustrative of the greatness of the change, which was particularly interesting from its suddenness. numerous tibetan forms no doubt still lingered, but principally such as extend into kashmir. at maten the barley was still uncut, notwithstanding that it is upwards of a thousand feet lower than le, at which place harvest was nearly over at the time of my departure. [sidenote: zoji pass. _september, ._] there can be no doubt that the sudden alteration in the character of the vegetation is due to the great depression in the chain separating tibet from kashmir, at the zoji pass, which is far below the usual level of the lowest parts of these mountains. the access of a great amount of humidity, which would have been condensed if the moisture-bringing winds had been obliged to pass over a lofty chain, makes the autumn partially rainy, and frequently cloudy, thereby diminishing the action of the sun's rays, and lowering the mean temperature of the summer. on the th of september, i crossed the pass of zoji la, which had now a very different aspect from that which it had presented in april. from maten the road lay up a wide open valley with a scarcely perceptible ascent, generally along the edge of a small stream, but occasionally on the slope of the hill-sides. the valley was flat and often swampy; but the mountains on both sides, more particularly on the left, were high and abrupt, not unfrequently precipitous. on that side there were in most of the ravines large patches of snow, and in one there was a fine glacier, which stopped abruptly within a hundred yards of the main valley. latterly a few patches of snow lay even in the open valley. the vegetation was almost entirely kashmirian, not more than six or seven out of about species being otherwise; the hill-sides were covered with brushwood, at first of willow and prickly juniper, but latterly principally of birch. five or six miles from maten, the main branch of the stream was found to descend from a narrow ravine on the left, at the head of which there was perhaps a glacier. in the valley along which the road lay, there was scarcely any water in the bed of the stream, and about a mile further on, without any increase in the inclination, i came to a large patch of dirty snow, beyond which there was a very evident slope to the southward. the boiling-point of water here indicated an elevation of , feet. a few hundred yards further, i arrived at a large pond (it could hardly be called a lake), into which a very small rill of water was trickling from the north, while from the opposite end a stream ran towards the south. this little lake was not, as i had expected, on the crest of the pass, but undoubtedly on the kashmirian side of it. [sidenote: baltal. _september, ._] beyond the lake, the descent became steep, and the valley contracted into a rocky ravine, full of snow, under which the little stream disappeared. the road was at first on the left side of the valley, but crossed on the snow at the commencement of the contracted part, and ascended rather abruptly a steep hill on the right through a very pretty grove of birch. the top of this steep ascent is usually considered by travellers as the pass, and is the place to which the name zoji la properly belongs. the point of separation of the waters must of course, for geographical purposes, be considered as the actual pass, but this ridge, which, if not actually higher, is at all events on a level with it, and has in addition a steep ascent on both sides, has not unnaturally had that honour assigned to it. on reaching the shoulder of the ridge, the valley of baltal came in sight, presenting, in the words of moorcroft, "as if by magic, a striking contrast in its brown mountains and dark forests of tall pines to the bare rocks and few stunted willows to which we had so long been accustomed." the sight of a forest is certainly a great source of gratification to a traveller who has been long in tibet; but the pleasing effect of the view from the zoji pass is not owing merely to contrast; as the traveller looks down upon the bed of sind river, more than feet below, and the forest in the valley is not too dense, but interspersed with open glades, while beyond rise high mountains tipped with snow. i do not think that i have anywhere in the himalaya seen a more beautiful scene than that which then lay before me; but the effect was enhanced by the recollection of the appearance of the same spot in april, when the whole landscape was covered with snow, and i descended from the summit of the pass on a snow-bank which filled up the now inaccessible ravine, on account of which i was obliged to make a long detour. the descent was extremely abrupt, through a pretty wood, down to a log hut built for the accommodation of travellers a few hundred yards from the river, at an elevation of , feet. the flora of the sind valley at baltal was very rich: the forest consisted chiefly of pine, poplar (_p. ciliata_), birch, and sycamore, intermixed with underwood of _ribes_, _berberis_, _viburnum_, _lonicera_, and _salix_. the herbaceous vegetation had all that excessive luxuriance which characterizes the subalpine forests of the himalaya at the end of the rainy season. gigantic _compositæ_, _labiatæ_, _ranunculaceæ_, and _umbelliferæ_ were the prevailing forms. there were several large patches of snow in the bed of the lateral torrent which descended from zoji la, as low down as the log hut; and it was not a little curious to observe, that in spots from which the snow had only recently melted, the willows were just beginning to expand their buds, and the cherry, rhubarb, _thalictrum_, _anemone_, _fragaria_, and other plants of early spring, were in full flower. [sidenote: kashmir. _october, ._] in descending the sind valley towards kashmir, my route was the same by which i had travelled in april. the mountains on the left were extremely precipitous and heavily snowed, and in a ravine a little below sonamarg a glacier descended almost to feet. the lower part of the valley was one sheet of cultivation, chiefly of rice, which was almost ripe. in the neighbourhood of kashmir, where i arrived on the th of october, the season of vegetation was almost at an end; species of _nepeta_, _eryngium_, _daucus_, _centaurea_, _carpesium_, and several _artemisiæ_ being the most remarkable of the herbaceous plants remaining. in the lake there were vast groves of _nelumbium_ leaves, but the flowers and fruit were both past; _salvinia_ was everywhere floating in great abundance; while the other aquatic plants were species of _bidens_, _stachys_, _mentha_, _scutellaria_, _hippuris_, and _typha_, all european or closely resembling european forms. besides rice, which constitutes the staple crop of the valley, the principal grains cultivated in autumn appeared to be different kinds of millet, and a good deal of maize; indian species of _phaseolus_ also were common, now nearly ripe. the wheat and barley, which are much earlier, were already above ground. i saw a few fields of _sesamum_ (the _til_ of india), and in drier spots a good deal of cotton, which was being picked by hand, but appeared a poor stunted crop, much neglected. on the high platforms between pampur and avantipura the saffron was in flower, and its young leaves were just shooting up. this crop seems a very remunerative one to the raja, who retains the monopoly in his own hands, compelling the cultivators to sell the produce to him at a fixed price. the bulbs are allowed to remain in the ground throughout the year, and continue in vigour for eight or ten years, after which the produce diminishes so much in quantity that the beds are broken up, and the bulbs separated and replanted. the flowers are picked towards the end of october, and carried into the town of kashmir, where the stigmas are extracted. another very important product of kashmir is hemp, which grows spontaneously along the banks of the river, forming dense thickets often twelve and fifteen feet in height, and almost impenetrable. it is only used in the manufacture of an intoxicating drink, and for smoking; and the plant is preserved entire, in store-houses, in the town of kashmir, till required for consumption. from kashmir i proceeded towards the plains of the punjab by the same route by which i had travelled in may. during my absence in tibet, the second sikh war had broken out, and as it was then at its height, it was not easy to reach the british territories. i was therefore detained a good while, first in kashmir, and afterwards at jamu, and did not reach lahore till the th of december. footnotes: [ ] two months later, captain strachey ascended the nubra valley till stopped by this glacier, which appears to be on a still more gigantic scale than those of the shayuk to the eastward. [ ] excellent specimens of this singular alpine plant, each tuft of which must, i think, represent the growth of centuries, may be seen in the museum of the royal gardens at kew, collected by dr. hooker in eastern tibet. [ ] i have no conjecture to offer regarding the age or nature of this very remarkable rock. [ ] the itinerary of mir izzet ullah shows that at the time of his journey from le to yarkand the direct road up the shayuk was still open. chapter xv. general description of tibet -- systems of mountains -- trans-sutlej himalaya -- cis-sutlej himalaya -- kouenlun -- four passes across kouenlun -- boundaries of western tibet -- height of its mountain ranges and passes -- climate of tibet -- clouds -- winds -- snow-fall -- glaciers -- their former greater extension -- elevation to which they descend -- snow-level -- geology -- lacustrine clay and alluvium. the elevated country of central asia, situated to the north of the lofty snowy mountains which encircle india from kashmir to assam, is familiarly known to europeans by the name of thibet or tubet,--most properly, i believe, tibet. this name is also commonly employed by the mohammedan nations to the north and west to designate the same country, but is not, so far as i am aware, known in the language of the tibetans themselves, among whom different portions of the country are usually known by different names. [sidenote: boundaries of tibet.] the whole of tibet (as far as our present very limited knowledge of the south-east portion enables an opinion to be formed) appears to be characterized by great uniformity of climate and productions, and perhaps also of natural features, on which account it appears convenient to retain the name for the whole country, although, as has already been pointed out by baron humboldt[ ], it is naturally separable into two grand divisions. one of these, the waters of which collect to join the sanpu, which in india becomes the brahmaputra, is still scarcely known; the other, drained principally by the indus and its tributaries, has been repeatedly visited by european travellers. the line of separation between these two portions lies a little to the east of the great lakes[ ], from the neighbourhood of which the country must gradually slope in both directions towards the sea. if the whole of western tibet formed (as it does, according to the popular opinion on the subject of the countries to the north of the himalaya) an extensive plain bounded on the south by the great chain of the himalaya, and on the north by the lofty mountains of kouenlun, it would be an easy task to define its limits. this is, however, so far from being the case, that the greater part of the surface of the country is traversed in all directions by ranges of mountains in every respect similar to the himalaya, of which in fact those south of the indus are ramifications, while those on the north are branches of the snowy chain of kouenlun. if, again, the himalaya formed an uninterrupted chain along the southern border of tibet, broken only by the passage of the indus at one extremity and by that of the brahmaputra at the other, the mountainous nature of the interior would be no obstacle to the existence of a clear and distinct boundary. unfortunately, however, for simplicity of definition, no such chain exists. a line of high snowy peaks may doubtless be traced in a direction nearly parallel to the plains of india, but these are separated from one another by deep ravines, along which flow large and rapid rivers, and therefore afford no tangible line of demarcation between the two countries. [sidenote: trans-sutlej himalaya.] between the river indus and the plains of north-west india is interposed a mountain tract which has a breadth of about miles in linear distance. this tract is everywhere (with one exception) extremely rugged and mountainous, nor is it at all an easy task to convey an idea of the extreme complication of the ramifications of the numerous ranges of which it consists. no wide plain (kashmir alone excepted) is interposed between these ranges, so that the only feasible mode of division which appears to be applicable to them is afforded by the course of the different rivers which traverse them in various directions. if these be taken as a guide, the mountains will be found to resolve themselves into two great systems connected to the eastward, but otherwise independent of, though nearly parallel to, one another. from the sources of the west branch of the chenab or chandrabhaga river, a range of very great elevation runs in a north-west direction as far as kashmir, and, after reaching the north-east corner of that valley, assumes a more westerly direction so as to encircle the whole of its north side, bending at the same time gradually towards the south. this chain forms the line of separation between the waters of the indus and those of the chenab and jelam. to the eastward of the baralacha pass it ramifies to a considerable extent, its different branches including between them several depressions quite unconnected with the general drainage of the country, and surrounded on all sides by ranges of hills which prevent any exit of their waters. the principal of these depressions is that of lake chumoreri; another is occupied by the little salt lake first visited by trebeck, and called by him thogji[ ]. [sidenote: salt lakes.] all these depressions, though at present unconnected with any of the river systems, have evidently at some former period been so. chumoreri, as i am informed by major cunningham, is even now very slightly saline, though scarcely perceptibly so to the taste. it has evidently had an outlet at its southern extremity, where it is only separated from the valley of the parang river by a very low range of hills which was crossed in by mr. agnew, and more recently by captain h. strachey. the outlet of the little salt lake of thogji has evidently been near its north end, and its waters, previous to the change in the state of the country which interrupted their exit, in all probability flowed into that tributary of the zanskar river which runs to the eastward of the lachalang pass, and which is marked in the map accompanying moorcroft's travels as the sumghiel. major cunningham, who travelled in by the same route as that previously followed by moorcroft, informs me that no obstacle intervenes to prevent the waters of the lake taking that direction in case of their being raised in the lake itself to a height of two or three hundred feet above their present level. if we consider the basins of these two lakes to be referable to the systems of drainage to which they appear to have formerly belonged, though now separated from them by accidental alterations of level, the course of the mountain chain which i am endeavouring to trace must be considered to run between the two. this is in fact the position of the loftiest part of the chain, which, skirting the north and east sides of chumoreri, is thence continued in a south-east direction, forming that lofty but little-known range which separates the valley of the sutlej from that of the indus. this chain was crossed by moorcroft on his visit to garu, and appears to extend uninterruptedly as far as kailas to the north of lake manasarawar. the mountain chain which lies to the south of the river sutlej may also be considered to have its origin in the lofty country adjoining the lakes, but a little to the south and east of them. this chain, which separates the valley of the sutlej from that of the ganges and its tributaries (including the jumna), sinks at last into the plains of india a little to the south of the town of nahan. [sidenote: cis-sutlej himalaya.] the course of this chain has been admirably described by captain herbert in his geological report of the himalaya[ ], a paper which contains exceedingly accurate general views of the mountains between the sutlej and jumna. he was quite unacquainted with the details of the mountains north of the former river, and therefore could not form any idea of their arrangement. captain herbert calls the chain south of the sutlej the indo-gangetic chain, a very inappropriate name, for which, however, it is difficult to substitute a better. perhaps the name of cis-sutlej himalaya, though not exactly classical, is the best that can be devised, and if so, the chain which, commencing in kailas, separates the waters of the sutlej from those of the indus, may not improperly be designated the trans-sutlej himalaya[ ]. to these two great chains the whole of the mountains between the indus and the plains may be referred. both are of very great elevation, in the eastern half of their course more especially, but that north of the sutlej is much less covered with snow than the other. this is owing to the moisture-bringing winds, which are entirely derived from the indian side, being stopped by the chain to the south; and in fact, as soon as the elevation of the latter is so far diminished that it ceases to be covered with perpetual snow, the more northerly chain, without any increase of elevation, becomes much more snowy, so as to merit the appellation of great snowy range, a term which, more to the eastward, is applied to the mountains south of the sutlej. as several of the principal ramifications of the northern chain attain an elevation not at all inferior to that of the axis from which they are derived, they produce a similar effect upon the climate of the ranges to the north of them, being themselves covered with vast masses of snow, while the mountains which they shelter are in a great measure bare. [sidenote: kouenlun.] the northern boundary of tibet is formed by the great chain north of the indus, to which humboldt, following chinese geographers, has given the name of kouenlun. our knowledge of the appearance and course of this chain of mountains, by which tibet is separated from yarkand and khoten, is so extremely limited that, except as to its general direction, very little can be said regarding it. the only conclusion which can be drawn from the scanty notices of it by travellers is, that it must be of extreme height and covered with perpetual snow. many of the principal ramifications which it sends down towards the indus are very elevated, and immense glaciers descend in their valleys, so that, except in a very few places, the main chain cannot be seen from the valley of the shayuk, the mountains in the immediate vicinity of that river in general obstructing the view. [sidenote: passes across kouenlun.] i am not aware of more than four places in which passes exist across the kouenlun. the most westerly of these, called in balti the pass of the muztagh, lies at the source of the right branch of the shigar river, a stream which joins the indus opposite the town of iskardo. the road over this pass to yarkand was formerly frequented by merchants, but has for many years been disused, the reason assigned being the danger of plunder by the hordes of robbers beyond. as described to me by persons who had crossed it, the snow is reached after ten days' journey from iskardo, and continues during three marches. it is said to be quite impracticable for horses, from which it may, i think, be inferred that there are numerous glaciers. the second pass is that marked in vigne's map as the alibransa pass, at the head of a considerable tributary which joins the shayuk river opposite khapalu. the enormous glacier over which this road runs, by which, in conjunction with the lateness of the season, mr. vigne's attempts to cross the pass were frustrated, has been well described by that traveller[ ]. i did not, while in tibet, meet with any one who had crossed it, and i was assured by the inhabitants of nubra that they were not acquainted with any road from the upper part of their valley, either towards khapalu or towards yarkand. the third pass, and the only one now frequented, is that of the karakoram, an extremely easy though very elevated one. the most easterly pass of which i find any notice occurs on the road between ruduk and khoten; it is mentioned by moorcroft[ ], but without any account of the nature of the road, or the elevation of the mountains. to the westward of karakoram, the direction of the kouenlun is seemingly as nearly as possible parallel to the indus, but to the east of that pass nothing certain is known regarding it. in humboldt's map it is laid down as running nearly from west to east, on the authority of chinese geographical works. its course is unquestionably to the north of the pangong lake, but till it has been explored by european travellers its direction must, i think, be regarded as involved in much doubt. another lofty range, however, unquestionably runs parallel to the indus from south-east to north-west. this range, which is continuous with that by which the indus and shayuk rivers are separated, terminates (or more properly originates) in the still almost unknown mass of mountains which lies to the north of lake manasarawar. between this chain and the kouenlun is situated a tract of country of unknown extent, which seems to be made up of a number of isolated lake-basins quite unconnected, not only with one another, but with the general drainage of the country by which they are surrounded. [sidenote: pangong lake.] if we except the basin of the pangong lake, into which moorcroft and trebeck descended after crossing the range of mountains parallel to the indus, every part of this country must be viewed as a _terra incognita_. it cannot, i think, be doubted, from the description of the pangong lake given by moorcroft and trebeck, that the basin in which it rests had originally an outlet at its north-west extremity, discharging itself along the valley of tanktse into the shayuk. the country to the eastward is so totally unknown, that it is impossible to conjecture whether the little lake-basins of which it is said to consist, discharge themselves towards the pangong lake, or southward into the indus. [sidenote: boundaries of tibet.] western tibet, then, is a highly mountainous country, lying on both sides of the river indus, with its longer axis directed like that river from south-east to north-west. it is bounded on the north-east by the kouenlun chain of mountains, by which it is separated from the basin of yarkand. on the south-east its boundary is formed by the ridge which separates the waters of the indus from those of the sanpu. to the north-west and south-west its boundaries are somewhat arbitrary, unless the political division of the country be had recourse to, which, depending on accidental circumstances entirely unconnected with physical geography or natural productions, is so liable to change, that its adoption would be extremely inconvenient. the best mode of drawing a line of separation between india and tibet, in those parts where mountain chains are not available for the purpose, appears to consist in regarding the latter to commence only at the point where the aridity of the climate is too great to support forests of trees, or any coniferous tree except juniper. as limited by these boundaries, west tibet includes the whole of the valley of the indus and its tributaries, down to about feet above the level of the sea, a considerable portion of the upper course of the sutlej down to between and , feet, and small portions of the upper course of the chenab, of the ganges (jahnavi), and of the gogra. [sidenote: mountain ranges.] every part of tibet is traversed by ranges of mountains which have their origin either in the kouenlun on the north, or in the trans-sutlej himalaya on the south. these mountain ranges are generally extremely rocky and rugged, but as a general rule it may be said that they are less so in the upper part of the course of the different rivers, than in their lower parts. this rule applies not only to the indus and to the sutlej, but with scarcely an exception to all the tributaries of these rivers. there are no extensive open plains in any part of the country, the only level portions being in the valleys of the rivers, the width of which is usually not more than one or two miles, and very seldom exceeds five miles. to this general description of the surface of the country i have met with no exception in those parts of tibet which i have had an opportunity of examining. i have not, however, had an opportunity of seeing the extreme south-west portion, my knowledge of the course of the indus not extending further up than hanle[ ]. the height of the mountain ranges which traverse west tibet is in all parts pretty much the same, and, as a consequence, the depth of the valleys in the lower portion of the course of the indus and of all its tributaries is very much greater than near the sources of these rivers. in the higher valleys therefore the mountains are apparently much less lofty; they are also frequently rounded and sloping, or at all events less rocky and precipitous than lower down, though to this there are many exceptions. [sidenote: elevation of passes.] the elevation of the passes in a mountainous region represents in general the height of the lowest part of the chain. in the mountain ranges of tibet the average height of the ridges does not exceed from to feet above the passes, many of which indeed are scarcely at all lower than the highest crest of the ridge in which they are situated. i believe that in estimating the principal ranges of mountains at , feet, and the minor ranges at from , to , feet, i approximate very closely to the truth. this estimate applies to all parts of the country, the height of the ranges being remarkably uniform; but peaks occur at intervals in every one of the principal mountain ranges, which considerably exceed the elevation just stated, rising very generally (so far as can be judged by the eye from known heights of , and , feet) to twenty-one or twenty-two thousand feet; some peaks appearing to exceed even this. it is generally supposed that the great peaks of the himalaya on the southern border of tibet are much more lofty than the mountains of the interior of that country. i do not think, however, that the facts of the case are such as to warrant this assumption. west of the sutlej, in which district only the mountains of tibet may be said to be at all known, many peaks of the interior of that country are probably much more lofty than any of those near the plains of india, and if inaccessibility is to be any criterion, the chain of the kouenlun is beyond a doubt a much more elevated mass than any part of the western himalaya. of tibet east of the sutlej little is known, except that between ruduk and lassa no road into the interior of asia appears to exist. [sidenote: climate.] the climate of tibet is in every part extremely arid, because it is surrounded almost entirely by ranges of mountains so elevated that the rarefied air which passes over them can contain only a very small proportion of aqueous vapour. along the indus, indeed, no mountain chains are interposed to obstruct the passage of moist air, but the lower course of that river lies entirely in a comparatively dry climate, so that the winds which blow over the plains of sind and the lower mountains of eastern affghanistan cannot convey any excess of moisture to lower tibet. in the few tibetan valleys which, like that of the sutlej, are traversed by rivers debouching on the plains of india in a rainy climate, the quantity of moist air which they can receive being limited to that which proceeds directly up the valley, the upward current, even when saturated with moisture at the commencement, being gradually rarefied by the increasing elevation of the river-bed, and meeting with descending currents of cold air in its course, it very early deposits its moisture, first in the form of light showers, afterwards of fog and mist, and in its further progress is just as dry as the air in the more interior parts of the country. [sidenote: rain-fall.] it will probably be long before lengthened registers of meteorological phenomena will be obtained from all the different stages between india and the central parts of tibet, so as satisfactorily to establish the gradual transition of climate. till such shall be the case, the best evidence from which to deduce the fact of the alteration of climate, is afforded by the gradual change in the vegetation of the country as one advances towards the interior. direct observation will probably at some future period fix the point in the outer himalaya, at which the quantity of rain--always greater, _cæteris paribus_, among mountains than in level countries--is a maximum. i believe that in the western himalaya the greatest quantity of rain will be found to fall on mountains elevated from seven to nine thousand feet. ranges of mountains which attain an elevation of from ten to eleven thousand feet have already (in the western himalaya) a very sensible effect in diminishing the quantity of moisture, as indicated by the vegetation; and when the mountain chains became sufficiently elevated to be capped by perpetual snow, they condense a very great proportion of the moisture of the air-currents which pass over them. to a traveller who penetrates directly to the tibetan interior from the plains of india, the change of climate is perceptible to the senses; most markedly so of course if his journey occurs during the indian rainy season. even during the rains, however, the irregularities which everywhere occur in the fall of rain prevent the gradations of climate from being ascertained during a journey with the precision which a lengthened series of observations would permit; but the phenomena of vegetable life, which are dependent on the average seasons, are not affected by accidental irregularities, and therefore form an unerring guide. [sidenote: clouds.] though the climate of the whole of western tibet may, in general, be characterized as extremely dry, it is by no means cloudless. the winter months in particular are often very cloudy, and a good deal of snow falls. during the summer the sky is either bright and clear, or overcast with very light clouds. these clouds, usually cirrhi, are in general elevated and extremely thin. the cirrhus, when it remains for any length of time, changes or increases into a uniform hazy stratum, which covers the whole sky; more rarely, and perhaps only by an optical deception, it is seen under the form of stratus. cumuli are very uncommon. after several dull days the clouds generally accumulate, descend lower in the atmosphere, and rest on the mountain; as a few drops of rain fall in the valleys, the clouds disappear, and the highest peaks are seen to have received a slight sprinkling of snow, which is soon melted by the rays of the sun. it is only very rarely that the quantity of rain exceeds a few drops, or merits the appellation of a shower. the few occasions on which i have observed any fall of rain, at all deserving of being called by that name, have mostly been in early spring or in the latter part of autumn. [sidenote: temperature.] when the sky is clear, the sun, in all parts of tibet, even at great elevations, but especially in the valleys at and below ten and eleven thousand feet, is extremely powerful. the shade temperature depends, of course, in a great measure on the elevation above the level of the sea, but also on the situation, exposure, and many other accidental circumstances. in the lower part of the indus valley, at elevations of seven and eight thousand feet, it is said to be frequently very high[ ], the clear dry atmosphere allowing the full influence of the sun to be exerted on the bare, often black rocks. even as far up as , feet, in narrow valleys, the heat is often great in the middle of the day, but the more open plains are generally very temperate in the shade, and the nights and mornings are always cool. on the tops of the lower passes, and in the alpine valleys, the temperature of the nights and mornings is, in clear weather, very much depressed by radiation, so that the mornings, except when the sky is overcast, are intensely frosty, at elevations of , and , feet, or far below the level of perpetual snow. this is the case even in the month of august, which is the hottest of the year. the shade temperature at these high elevations rarely rises very high, even when the heat of the sun is oppressive, as it is moderated by the action of the violent winds which so generally prevail. the periods of cloudy sky, which now and then alternate with the bright sunshine, which is the prevailing weather, are in the alpine regions extremely cold. the stratum of cloud, at first high in the atmosphere, gradually lowers itself, and the traveller is enveloped in a frozen mist, followed most commonly during the night by a fall of snow. the quantity of snow which falls is very small, seldom, so far as i have seen, more than an inch or two in depth, and it speedily disappears as soon as the clouds have been dissipated and the sky resumes its usual serenity. [sidenote: winds.] the whole of western tibet is subject to extremely violent winds, the course and direction of which could only be satisfactorily studied by a resident. from the great depth of the valleys, the wind in general follows their course, blowing at one time up them, at other times down. in unsettled weather the direction is extremely variable, often changing repeatedly in the course of the day, but in clear settled weather the direction of the wind is, during the day at least, more frequently up the valleys than in the contrary direction. i have not observed any constancy in the course of the wind on the passes, on which it would be principally important to be acquainted with it, but it probably varies in direction according to the period of the day, so that a traveller, whose time does not permit him to delay to register the changes as they occur, is not likely to be able to discover any general law. the tibetan wind, in the ordinary state of the atmosphere, commences after the sun has nearly attained the meridian, the mornings being in general quite calm. it increases in violence during the afternoon, sometimes till after sunset, ceasing to blow after dark, or at all events before midnight. this wind seems to be pretty constant over the whole country, from the upper sutlej as far west as rondu; and as a very similar wind blows in the valleys of affghanistan, which have an identical summer climate in respect of moisture, it must, i presume, be caused by the influence of the sun, in heating the barren rocky plains and hills. during periods of cloud, and throughout the winter, the wind is much less regular in its direction, as well as in the periods during which it blows. it frequently changes its direction very abruptly. about the equinoxes, or at the commencement and end of winter, at which times there seems to be generally a good deal of unsettled weather, it blows for some days with extreme violence. in march, , at iskardo, for several nights the wind almost amounted to a hurricane; its direction was from the south, or directly across the mountains. this was very commonly the case at iskardo, in unsettled weather, during the winter, but never when the days were bright and cloudless. [sidenote: snow-fall.] the amount of snow-fall varies much, diminishing as we advance into the interior of the country, but being always much greater on the mountains than in the valleys at their feet. in the outer himalaya, the amount at equal distances from the plains diminishes as we advance westward, but in the kouenlun, where the source of moisture lies to the westward, the snow-fall diminishes rapidly from west to east. the same is the case in the valley of the indus, where the amount of winter's snow, except in the most westerly parts, is quite insignificant. it is probably owing to the absence of cumular clouds, and to the general uniform expansion of the condensed vapours over the whole sky, that the outward manifestations of electricity--thunderstorms--are of very rare occurrence in tibet. i find only one instance of a thunderstorm recorded as having been observed while i was in a tibetan climate. this was at le, in september, , at which time there was a good deal of cloudy weather for several days. from the extreme dryness of the air, electricity is evolved with great facility by friction: all articles of woollen clothing, blankets, and even the hair, emit sparks when rubbed in the dark. i have even observed this to be the case at the elevation of , feet, in cloudy weather, when snow was falling. [sidenote: glaciers.] in every part of the himalaya, and of western tibet, wherever the mountains attain a sufficient elevation to be covered with perpetual snow, glaciers are to be found. the occurrence of glacial ice is a sufficient indication of the existence of snow of more than one year's duration, and (setting aside trifling cases of masses of ice in deep and sunless ravines, which, indeed, are not an exception, as they have no motion,) it may be laid down as a general law, that every glacier has its origin in perpetual snow. the converse of this proposition does not seem to be so universal. we have the high authority of humboldt for the fact, that no glaciers occur in the andes of tropical america, from the equator to ° north latitude. nor is it, i think, possible that the existence of glaciers should have escaped his notice, did they occur of such dimensions as would be indicated by the solitary and doubtful instance mentioned by m. boussingault, to which humboldt refers[ ], which is stated to have been seen at the same elevation as the town of quito, or more than feet below the level of perpetual snow in that region of the andes. the cause of the non-existence of masses of moving ice, in connection with the perpetual snow of the american tropics, must apparently be sought in the extreme uniformity of the seasons, and in the small quantity of snow which falls at any time of the year. in every region of the earth, so far as is known to me, where the mean temperatures of summer and winter are very different, or where the climate is what is called excessive, perpetual snow produces glaciers. these rivers of ice, as they have most appropriately been called, vary very much in size and appearance. in the lofty chains of the cis- and trans-sutlej himalaya, and of the kouenlun, whose peaks rise to a very great height, and collect in winter enormous depths of snow, they are of great length. in the central parts of tibet, which are often lower, and even in their loftiest parts are less snowy than the bounding chains, the glaciers are of inferior dimensions, often of that kind which i have called incipient, where the snow-bed is at once cut off abruptly in an ice cliff, which can hardly be said to be in motion, or rather whose motion must be almost entirely from above downwards. the general appearance of an indian glacier seems in every respect to accord with those of switzerland and of other parts of the temperate zone. it is only of late years, indeed, that they have been generally recognized in the himalaya; but it must not be forgotten that it is only recently that the researches of modern investigators, and in particular the delightful work of forbes, have familiarized the untravelled world with their appearance, and more especially with the fact and cause of their motion. it has also, singularly enough, long been the custom to look upon the himalaya as a tropical range of mountains, in which it was, as a matter of course, regarded as impossible that glaciers could exist[ ]. the upper end or origin of a glacier seems commonly to be in an enormous snow-bed, occupying the whole space included by an amphitheatre of snowy peaks. the snow-slips and accumulations by which the snow-bed is added to during winter, must to a great extent remain concealed from human eyes; and in summer, when these icy fields are accessible, they are generally, i believe i may say always, covered by a thick layer of snow, which assists at the same time that it conceals the process by which the snow is converted into ice. i have never measured the dimensions of any of the great glaciers of the himalaya, nor is it easy to ascertain the length of any of them even approximately, as they are seldom traversed by roads, and are usually bent so that only a small part of their course can be seen. many of them must considerably exceed ten miles in length; i have seen several which were more than half a mile broad; and the depth of the icy mass frequently amounts to hundreds of feet. the appearance of the surface of a glacier seems to depend almost entirely on the inclination of its bed. where the slope is gentle the surface is nearly uniformly smooth, or at most only slightly fissured. i have not had occasion to observe any fissures of more than a foot or two in width, so that, though often very deep, they are crossed without difficulty. in describing the icy surface as smooth, it is necessary to mention that such is only the case in the upper part of the glacier, where the moraines are small or only lateral. whenever the surface supports rocky fragments in great quantity, it is extremely unequal till such time as the whole superficies becomes covered with stones, when the melting being uniform, the surface again becomes tolerably even. on steeply inclined planes the glacier is traversed in every direction by enormous fissures, between which the surface is very irregular, rising into sharp icy pinnacles of the most fantastic shape and appearance. more than once i have seen extremely steeply sloping glaciers, which were terminated abruptly by a lofty precipice, at the bottom of which huge piles of boulders and occasional icy fragments sufficiently indicated the forward motion of the ice; at other times, the slope of the valley in which the glacier lies again becoming gentle, the ice ceases to be fissured and rugged, and is capable of being walked on without difficulty. moraines, which, on the larger glaciers and among mountains of easily decaying rocks, are of astonishing dimensions, form the margins of each glacier, and also occur longitudinally on different parts of their surface, increasing in number as the glacier advances, till at last the different series whose origin can long be traced to the different ramifications of the glacier, become blended into one. the nature, origin, and aspect of the moraines, the mode of melting of the ice beneath them, and the isolated pinnacles of ice which support large solitary boulders, agree so entirely with descriptions of glaciers in other parts of the world, that it is unnecessary to dwell upon them. the large glaciers are often a good deal lower in their central parts than where they are covered by a bulky moraine; and a curious ravine-like hollow, between the moraine and the bare ice, which makes the former appear as if entirely disconnected from the glacier, is of very common occurrence. there is, however, also very often an ancient moraine, not now resting on ice, which runs parallel to the glacier, and seems to indicate its former greater extent. [sidenote: former greater extension of glaciers.] in every part of the tibetan mountains, and in very many parts of the indian himalaya, i have thought that i could recognize unmistakeable proofs of all the valleys having been formerly occupied by glaciers at much lower levels than at present. at first sight it seems rather improbable, that in sub-tropical latitudes the present extension of perpetual snow should at any former period have been exceeded; but it would not be difficult to show that the mean temperature, and particularly the mean summer temperature, is very much higher in the western himalaya and tibet than it might fairly be expected to be in such a latitude. in fact, in the more humid climate of eastern bengal, though at least four degrees nearer to the equator, the mean summer temperature at equal elevations in the mountains is probably considerably lower than in the mountains of north-west india, and the snow-level is certainly lower. it is fair, therefore, to conclude, looking back to a period when the sea washed the base of the himalaya in the upper part of the punjab, that at that period a very different state of atmospheric circumstances prevailed from that which we find at the present time. wherever i have seen glaciers in tibet or the mountains of india, i have been able to trace their moraines to a level very considerably lower than their present termination; and when i find in those ranges of the himalaya which do not at present attain a sufficient elevation to be covered with perpetual snow, series of angular blocks, evidently transported, because different from the rocks which occur _in situ_, and, so far as i can judge, exactly analogous in position to the moraines of present glaciers, i feel myself warranted in concluding that they are of glacial origin, and find it necessary to look about for causes which should render it probable that the snow-level should have formerly been lower than it is at present. in the rainy districts of the himalaya, where forest covers the slopes of the hills, it is difficult to fix the lowest limits at which evident moraines occur, but in many places i have seen them at least three thousand feet lower than the terminations of the present glaciers. in the valley of the indus, accumulations of boulders, which i believe to be moraines, occur in rondu as low as feet. glaciers, as is well known, terminate inferiorly at the point where the waste by melting in any given time begins to exceed in amount the mass of solid ice which is in the same space of time pushed forward by the _vis à tergo_. in the mountains of tibet the elevation of this point is very different in different places. it seems to depend principally on the mass of the glacier, as large glaciers invariably descend much lower than those of smaller size; the inclination of the bed has perhaps also some influence in determining the matter. in comparing the glaciers of the tibetan himalaya with those on the indian face of the same mountains, it will be found that, _cæteris paribus_, glaciers descend much lower on the indian side, or in a moist climate, than in the dry and arid tibetan climate. it is indeed impossible to ascertain with certainty that any two glaciers are of equal size, but it appears to me sufficiently accurate to compare the main glaciers on the opposite sides of the same pass. in the umasi pass, which is situated in the main chain of the trans-sutlej himalaya, all the circumstances seem favourable for comparison. on the south side of this pass the principal glacier terminates at about , feet, while on the north side a much more massive glacier comes to an end abruptly at , feet. the difference then, on opposite sides of the same pass, where the pass coincides with the line of transition of climate, amounts to feet. that i am justified in ascribing the cause of this difference to the change of climate appears from the fact, that in the interior of tibet, where no such change is observed in crossing even very lofty passes, there is frequently a glacier on the north declivity when none exists on the south. this is the case, for instance, on the parang pass, and on the pass immediately north of le. it may therefore be inferred, that when glaciers occur on both sides of a pass, that on the northern exposure will, unless there be a marked alteration of climate, invariably descend lower than that on the south side. i have not had an opportunity of seeing glaciers on both sides of any pass in the most external ranges of the himalaya, but i have been informed that in the range south of the chenab river, glaciers frequently occur on the north sides of the passes, while none exist towards the south. if this were to be found universally the case, it would be an additional proof that the lower descent of glaciers on the south or indian side of the mountain chain is an exceptional occurrence. [sidenote: glaciers of kouenlun.] the glaciers of the southern slope of the kouenlun appear, from the descriptions of travellers, to be on a still more gigantic scale than those of the himalaya. five mountain ranges of great height, separated from one another by rivers of great size, descend from the axis of that chain towards the indus and shayuk, and attain so great an elevation, that, with scarcely an exception, there is no passage from one of these lateral valleys to another. all these ranges rise far above the line of perpetual snow, and in their valleys enormous glaciers descend to a level which is gradually lower as we advance westward in the direction of the source of the rain- and snow-fall. the range east of the shayuk has comparatively few and small glaciers, but to the west of that river the glaciers of sassar terminate at about , feet. a little further west, a glacier, overhanging the valley of nubra, terminates at , feet, and the great glacier of nubra was found, by captain strachey, to terminate at , feet. in the range between nubra and the machulu again there are vast glaciers, but their height has not been determined, nor do we know precisely to what level those of the shigar valley descend; though it is evident, from their proximity to the main valley, and their small distance from shigar, which is not more than feet above the level of the sea, that they must descend very low, perhaps to , feet. in the valley of gilgit, i am informed by mr. winterbottom, the glaciers descend as low as feet. [sidenote: level of perpetual snow.] in the mountains further east than the shayuk it would appear that the snow-fall is so very small that the level of perpetual snow recedes to an enormous height. this has been found to be the case on the passes north of the pangong lake, many of which were crossed by captain h. strachey. the great height of the mountains without snow, east of the karakoram pass, confirms the fact; and it is probable, so rapidly does the snow-level rise in advancing eastward, that if we could penetrate a very short distance beyond the eastern extremity of the pangong lake, an absolutely dry country might be reached, in which rain or snow never falls. so much error has unfortunately taken place regarding the height above which the mountains of north-west india are covered with perpetual snow, that it appears necessary that travellers should put upon record the results of their observations, however limited. it is for this reason, and not because i expect to throw much additional light on the subject, that the following remarks are hazarded. the recent paper of captain r. strachey[ ] has furnished facts which had hitherto been wanting, while the theoretical considerations which have been laid down by humboldt are so accurate and comprehensive, that the undoubted mistake into which he has fallen is the more to be regretted. the indian and tibetan himalaya, west of nipal, lies entirely within the temperate zone, and from that circumstance has its year divided into summer and winter. the periodical rains, which it is well known are principally confined to the outermost parts of the mountains, being derived from the bay of bengal, are excessive in the easternmost part of the chain, and gradually diminish as we advance westward; there is no reason, however, to believe that the winter monsoon, which is particularly dwelt upon by captain strachey in the valuable paper to which i have had occasion to refer, is so. probably indeed it is the reverse, though i have no detailed observations to refer to in corroboration of this opinion; i may however recall to mind, that the winter is the season of heavy snow, and the spring of heavy rain, throughout the north of affghanistan, and that in the punjab frequent cloudy weather and rain occurs during the cold season, while in the plains of india the weather seems to become at that period less unsettled as we advance eastward. the quantity of rain which falls during the summer in the outer himalaya has necessarily a very material influence on the sun's action during the time in which he has most power, and therefore on the mean temperature of the summer months, which at corresponding elevations, notwithstanding the northing of the chain as we advance from east to west, must be higher to the westward. in the interior or tibetan portion of the himalaya, this difference is not observed, the climate being the same, or nearly so, from east to west of the region under consideration. [sidenote: winter, the season of snow.] in the most western part of the himalaya, in kashmir and balti, the winter's fall of snow commences about the beginning of december, and continues on the highest ranges nearly to the beginning of may. the supply of moisture from which the snow is condensed is evidently derived from the indian seas, and i suppose principally from the south-west, that being the general direction from which i observed snow-storms to arrive at iskardo. the fall of snow must therefore, equally with that of rain in the rainy season, be greatest in the outermost (snowy) ranges, and very much less in all those in the interior. in the lower parts of tibet on the indus the snow-fall during winter is very considerable, though during summer the climate is as dry as elsewhere in tibet. this difference seems to be explained by the westerly point from which the winter's wind blows, and by the much greater moisture of the atmosphere at that season over affghanistan and sind, so that the south-west wind advances loaded with vapour up the valley of the indus. the increase of elevation in the bed of that river of course causes all the excess of moisture to be deposited without penetrating to any great distance, so that the more eastern parts of the country are not affected by this cause. the snowy season in the highest mountains is probably in every part of the range very much the same. on the low outer ranges, which do not attain the height of perpetual snow, it is gradually lessened in duration as the elevation diminishes, ceasing entirely, in average years, at about feet. when the winter is at an end, the influence of a powerful sun and gradually increasing temperature is at once brought to bear on the mass of snow which has fallen; on the inner ranges where the summer is dry, this action proceeds uninterruptedly till the commencement of the next winter, but on the outermost snowy ranges it is modified by the access of the rainy season. [sidenote: melting of snow in summer.] on the outer ranges of the himalaya, the crests of which rise to between five and ten thousand feet, the powerful sun soon dissipates all snow. it is in the inner ranges, which rise nearly to the height of perpetual snow, and where the river-beds are from six to eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, that the snow remains for a great length of time. when the valleys are open, the plain on the banks of the stream becomes first of all bare of snow, then the banks which face the south, and lastly the northern slopes. it is not so, however, in the deep narrow valleys and ravines through which the himalayan rivers generally flow. in these the bottom of the glen is so much sheltered from the sun that a dense mass of snow, the result of accumulation from the avalanches of the winter, remains for a very long time after both slopes are quite bare of snow. these _snow-beds_ have nothing of the nature of a glacier in them, but are simply firm, hard snow. i have, in the month of june, descended along one of them from , feet (above which height there was perhaps a glacier beneath), to feet, a distance of seven miles without a break. it was entirely confined to the bottom of the ravine, both banks being throughout all that distance free of snow, and often covered with a most luxuriant herbage. [sidenote: snow-beds in ravines.] similar snow-beds are to be seen in every ravine which is not too wide to be choked up by snow in winter. their occurrence so universally is probably in a great measure the reason why glaciers were not recognized in our indian mountains till so recent a period. these beds being so clearly transitory in existence, it was assumed that all masses of snow and ice were equally so. a visit to one of the great glaciers at the end of autumn would of course at once have indicated the dissimilarity. in many narrow ravines remains of these snow-beds may be seen at surprisingly low elevations throughout the year, their permanence depending much more on the amount of the winter's fall of snow, and of the accumulation in that particular locality, than upon the mean or summer temperature of the place. at baltal, in the upper part of the sind valley in kashmir, the little stream which descends from the zoji pass was still arched over by a bed of snow several feet thick, in the end of september, at an elevation of not more than feet. this was not, as might have been expected, in a very shady spot, but fully exposed to the action of the sun; it was, however, in a place where the fall of snow during winter is very great. the causes which are enumerated by baron humboldt as affecting the snow-level are numerous, but several are of only local effect. two in addition to the latitude seem more important than the others, namely, the amount of fall during winter, and the amount of solar heat during summer. captain r. strachey regards the diminished amount of the winter's fall of snow as the main cause of the greater height of the snow-line in the interior of the himalaya, but i feel disposed to believe that both causes co-operate equally to produce the effect. [sidenote: level of perpetual snow.] captain r. strachey has estimated (from the mean of several observations) the snow-level on the southern slope of the cis-sutlej himalaya at , feet. this elevation is, no doubt, as near as possible correct. captain herbert, in his geological report, had fixed upon , feet, which is a little too low even in the district of basehir, to which his estimate, i believe, refers. in the trans-sutlej himalaya, from the diminished amount of summer cloudy weather, the snow-level is probably a little higher, but we are not yet in possession of any accurate determinations of heights in that range in those parts which are in close contact with the plains of india. two of its ramifications are extremely well adapted for determining the height of perpetual snow. first, the chumba range, which, as has been pointed out to me by major cunningham, is barely snow-tipped throughout the year; and second, the pir panjal range south of kashmir, the northern slopes of which have perpetual snow and glaciers, while on the south side the snow has entirely melted before the end of summer. the elevation of the pir panjal has not been determined with accuracy, the heights given by baron hügel and by mr. vigne being estimated from their measurement of the pass over which they crossed[ ]. [sidenote: snow-level in tibet.] in the interior of north-west tibet every principal range attains the elevation of perpetual snow, but only a few peaks rise much above it. there is therefore no very great mass of snow during the summer months to lower the temperature of the air, and consequently circumstances are the most favourable possible for the elevation of the snow-line to an extreme degree; a dry, stony, desert, treeless country, violent winds, clear sky, and powerful sun, being all combined. in the most central part of the country, the lanak pass, near hanle, and the sabu pass, near le, both elevated as nearly as possible , feet, are without perpetual snow, but the parang pass, between , and , feet, has a glacier on its north face, and therefore exceeds in elevation the snow-line. the snow-level in central tibet must therefore be sought between these heights, but nearer that of the parang pass, which has no perpetual snow towards the south: it is, therefore, certainly not below , feet. in the kouenlun, on the northern border of tibet, where the mountains are again much more elevated, the snow-level descends no lower. even on the th and th of august, the mass of snow, which was on the northern face of its highest peaks continuous down from , feet and upwards, did not descend below , feet, and the open level plain of the upper shayuk had at that height only trifling patches of snow. on the karakoram pass ( , feet) there were only large patches of snow, the south face of the ridge being quite bare for some distance in both directions. [sidenote: level on opposite sides of passes.] the _vexata quæstio_ of the difference of the level at which snow lies on the north and south slopes of the himalaya, affords a singular instance of misconception. enunciated originally in an obscure and somewhat incorrect form, when little was known of the structure of the inner part of the chain, the fact has been repeatedly contradicted by those who thought they found it contrary to their experience. both parties were to a certain extent right. on each individual range the snow-level will at all times be found lower on the north face than on the south, except when the range which we are crossing happens to coincide with a very marked and abrupt change of climate, which will only be the case when it is extremely elevated. when this is the case, the proposition, otherwise true of the mountains _en masse_, or the inner ranges compared with the outer, becomes applicable to a particular range. this is probably the case in the very pass in kamaon (i know not which it was) from which the law was first inferred. it is certainly so in the great passes north of the chenab, where, on the indian face, i found in june snow at , feet, while on the north side, only twenty miles distant, it had already receded beyond , feet. from the rapid nature of my journey, and the great number of objects to which i was obliged to devote my attention, the geological observations which i was enabled to make were much more imperfect than i could have wished. it appeared, however, desirable, hurried as they were, to enumerate them, for the purpose of drawing the attention of future travellers to the subject; and for the same reason i shall here recapitulate the general conclusions which appear to result from the facts observed. [sidenote: geology of tibet.] the greater part of tibet consists of plutonic and metamorphic rocks; and from the gigantic scale on which the sections are exposed, and the general bareness of the mountains, which enables their structure to be seen, that country probably presents the finest field in which these classes of rocks could be studied. granite occurs in great abundance, sending immense veins in all directions into the metamorphic rocks, which are seen to be everywhere upheaved and dislocated by the injected mass. in the immediate vicinity of the plutonic masses, all traces of the direction of the strata of the superposed rocks are lost; but elsewhere, with every variety of dip, it is very generally found that the stratified rocks strike in a direction which varies between north-west and south-east, and north-north-west and south-south-east. as all my observations were made roughly and unconnectedly, and without my discovering this identity till after my return to india, the strike is probably very uniform throughout a great extent of country. it is not a little remarkable that a belt twenty miles wide, in the direction of this line of strike, drawn from iskardo to the niti pass, would cover every place south of the indus in which limestone has been observed in tibet. it would pass through molbil on the pashkyum river, the limestone districts of zanskar, and the lachalang pass, where limestone was found by gerard. it would also cover piti, hangarang, and bekhar, all well-known limestone tracts. of course the limestones of nubra and the karakoram on the one hand, and of kashmir on the other, cannot in any way be connected with this line. the sandstones, slates, and conglomerates, which so closely resemble in appearance those rocks which in europe are chiefly members of the old red sandstone and greywacke series, appear to assume also the same direction. i bring forward these coincidences of direction only as a remarkable fact, worthy of investigation, without attaching any great weight to them, as more careful observation may show that they are merely accidental, and that rocks of very different ages exist among the limestones and associated rocks of the northern himalaya. [sidenote: alluvial and lacustrine deposit.] the great extent and development of a very modern alluvium-like formation, composed of great masses of clay with boulders, and occasionally of very fine laminated clay, constitutes one of the most remarkable and striking features of western tibet. in every part through which i have travelled, and at all elevations, except on the highest passes, i have found these deposits in greater or less quantity. in their most common state they consist of loose earthy or clayey unstratified masses, containing boulders either angular or rounded. very fine clay, distinctly and horizontally stratified, is also common; sandstone and hardened conglomerate are more rare, but also occur occasionally. that some of these beds are of lacustrine origin, the occurrence of fresh-water shells appears to prove very clearly; and though here and there small portions may be terrestrial and of glacial origin, it cannot, i think, be doubted that the great mass of the boulder clay was deposited under water. in the structure of scotland at the present day we have a state of circumstances which appears to me capable of throwing much light on the nature of these deposits. we find there a series of narrow arms of the sea, stretching far into the land, and separated by rugged and generally steep ranges of metamorphic or plutonic rocks. they are all more or less silted up by sedimentary matter, and near their mouths, especially where, as is often the case, they are much contracted, we generally find a bar, shallower than the remainder. at various elevations above the sea-level again there is a series of fresh-water lakes, differing little in aspect from the arms of the sea. we find also in many parts of the highlands of scotland long valleys, nearly level, which are filled with incoherent sedimentary deposits, and bounded like the lochs by steep mountains. if these were formerly arms of the sea, which by the elevation of the land have been converted into dry land, then the fresh-water lakes probably occupy those parts of the narrow channels which were originally deepest, or which, being wider than the rest, have remained unoccupied by sedimentary matter at the time of the elevation. in conformity with this view we find that at the lower end of these lakes the mountains generally approach very close to one another. if we were to suppose the gradual elevation of scotland to continue till the mountains attained an elevation equal to that of the himalaya, it is evident that a continued series of marine sedimentary deposits would extend from the summit to the sea-level, unless removed by the action of streams or other ordinary causes. some of the valleys would be of considerable width, and would contain marine fossils in great abundance; but in the narrower mountain valleys the gravel and boulders would be quite destitute of fossils. here and there fresh-water formations of partial extent would occur, but they would be separated from one another by large tracts filled with marine beds. the gradual elevation of the land would bring to bear upon these incoherent strata the powerful action of running water, which would remove portion after portion, till at last deep valleys would be excavated, and small patches only of the gravel and clay would remain where the action of the streams was least powerful. such i conceive to be the present state of tibet, but a much more detailed investigation of that remarkable country would be necessary, before this view can be regarded in any other light than an hypothesis. the causes by which the metamorphic rocks, which must have been brought into their present remarkable state at a great depth in the interior of the globe, acquired their present configuration of mountain and valley, form a question on which i am not now prepared to enter. one continued process of elevation seems inadequate to produce the observed effects; but however numerous the alternations of elevation and depression may have been, it is evident that the alluvial deposits at present existing must all be referable to the last period of elevation, as such incoherent strata could not withstand the continued action of the sea. footnotes: [ ] asie centrale, vol. i. p. . [ ] manasarawar and rawan rhad. [ ] moorcroft's travels, vol. ii. pp. - . [ ] journal of the asiatic society of calcutta, , no. . captain herbert, who had travelled a great deal in the himalaya, was the first to point out the impropriety of regarding these mountains as a single chain parallel to the plains of india. jacquemont also arrived at the same conclusion, as will be seen from the following extract from his journal:--"le langage de la géographie descriptive est théorique; c'est une grande faute si les théories qu'il rappelle sans cesse sont dénuées de fondement. ainsi l'on dit que le setludje _coupe_ la chaîne centrale de l'himalaya, que sa vallée est creusée au travers, etc., etc., et l'on donne à penser par là que cette chaîne auparavant etait continue et que c'est par un effort des eaux que s'y est faite cette large trouée, comme si les montagnes avaient dû se former primitivement avec une continuité non interrompue" (vol. ii. p. ); and again (at p. ), "le setludje coule donc non au nord de l'himalaya, mais entre deux chaînes à peu près également élevées." [ ] captain r. strachey, in his paper on the snow-level, proposes to call the more western part of the cis-sutlej himalaya the busehir range, a name which, though exceedingly appropriate to the portion to which he applies it, is not adapted for extension to the more eastern part. [ ] travels in kashmir, etc., vol. ii. p. . [ ] travels, vol. i. p. . [ ] that tibet is not an extensive plain, according to the usual idea, has already been pointed out by humboldt (asie centrale, vol. i. p. ). chinese geographers, according to him, describe all parts of tibet as more or less mountainous; the eastern portion of west tibet (gnari) as least so. captain h. strachey, in his account of his visit to lake manasarawar, says expressly that "the surface of gnari is for the most part extremely mountainous." in the lower tibetan course of the sutlej, the recent discoveries of captain strachey show that an alluvial table-land of considerable extent exists, intersected by deep ravines. [ ] see some observations of the thermometer recorded by mr. vigne, at iskardo, khapalu, etc. [ ] asie centrale, vol. iii. p. . [ ] in the map no. of the survey of the western himalaya, by captains hodgson and herbert, the glacier of gangutri is marked "great snow-bed _or glacier_;" but whether this indication of a knowledge of the true nature of the mass is due to the surveyors or to the maker of the map in england, i have no means at present of ascertaining. [ ] on the snow-level in the himalaya, in the journal of the asiatic society of calcutta. [ ] the thermometric results obtained by these two travellers do not agree with one another. m. hügel's thermometer indicated feet for the elevation of kashmir, a result which is known from the barometric observations of jacquemont to be feet in excess. mr. vigne's thermometer, when tested by moorcroft's barometric results at le, errs considerably in the opposite direction. in neither case do i know the mode of calculation employed, the results only being given. index. abadan, . adenocaulon himalaicum, . agricultural processes at iskardo, . " " le, . alibransa pass, . alluvial deposits of chango, . " " chorbat, . " " dankar, . " " dras valley, . " " indus below le, . " " karakoram, , . " " kardong, . " " kyuri, . " " landar valley, . " " lio, . " " molbil, . " " nubra, . " " phatu pass, . " " phutaksha, . " " piti valley, . " " rondu, . " " shayuk valley, . " " shigar valley, . " " sungnam, . " " tibet, . " " tolti, . " " zanskar, . alsine, tufted, . asdhari, . avalanches in dras, . " " kashmir, . " " rondu, . badarwar, . balanophora, . ballota, . baltal, , . banahal pass, . " valley, . bardar pass, . basehir, . baspa river, . berberry of tibet, . bijbehara, . bilergu, . boghdan, . borax plain of pugha, . borendo pass, . braghar, . buddhist edifices at le, . " temple at nako, . buju, . burang pass, . butna river, . caper, wild, of sutlej valley, . caragana versicolor, , . cedrus deodara, . celtis, . chakor, or painted partridge, . chamba, . changlung, . changar, . chango, . changrang pass, . changrezing, . chashut, . chatargarh, . " district, . chegaon, . chenab valley, , . chinese frontier, direction of, . " " stoppage on, . chini, . chirasa, . chishot, . chloris, species of, in nubra, . chorbat, . christolea, , . chulungka, . chumoreri, , . cicer microphyllum, . climate of dras, . " chatargarh, . " iskardo in winter, . " kashmir, . " kunawar, . " le in september, . " pashkyum, . " piti, . " simla, . " tibet, . " zanskar, . confervæ in pugha hot-springs, . crambe, . cupressus torulosa, . currant, black, . " tibetan, . cyanite, , . cyclas, fossil, . cyperus, a species, in nubra, . cyrena, . dadu, . dama, . dankar, . datisca, . deghi, . deodar, . dewar, . digar, . diskit, . doda, . dodonæa, . dras valley, , , . " village and fort, , . elæagnus, , . elm of nubra, . ephedra, . eremurus, . euphorbia pentagona, . fagu, . fish in hanle lake, . " pugha stream, . floods of shayuk, . fothergilla involucrata, . gagangir, . gagar river, . gambar river, , . ganderbal, . gangan, . gaora, . garta, . garys pass, . gentiana moorcroftiana, . geology of tibet, . gerard's pine, , , . giah, . giri river, . giu river, . glacier of butna valley, . " nubra mountains, . " parang pass, . " pass north of le, . " sassar, . " sassar pass, . " umasi pass, north face, . " " south face, . " zoji pass, . glaciers of himalaya, . " kouenlun, . gol, . gold-washing in khapalu, . gond, . granite in chorbat, . greenstone near hanle, . hangarang district, . " pass, . hango, . hanle, . hanle river, . hanu pass, . hanupata, . hardas, , . haripur, . harvest at le, . hattu, ascent of, . hemp in kashmir, . himalaya, appearance of, from plains, . " arrangement of ranges of, . " cis-sutlej, . " trans-sutlej, . himor, . hippophaë conferta, . " forest of nubra, . " of tibet, . hordeum Ægiceras, . hot-springs of panamik, . " pugha, . huling, . hundar, . hydrangea, scandent, . hyoscyamus niger, . indus river, at iskardo, . " at upshi, . " frozen over, . " junction with shayuk, . " north of hanle, . iron-mine in zanskar, . iskardo, . " winter at, . islamabad, . jako, . " view from, . jamu, . junipers of kunawar, . juniperus excelsa, . kalatze, . kalka, . kamar, . kanam, . kanji river, . karakoram pass, . " plain, , . karbu, in dras, , . " in pashkyum, . kardong, . kargil, . karsar, . karsha, . kartash, . kartse river, . kashbir, . kashmir, , . katti, . kepu, . khapalu, . " plain of, . khoten, road to, from karakoram, . khundan chu, . ki, . kiang or wild horse, . kibar, . kiris, . kirmichi, . koardu, . kotgarh, . kouenlun, , . kulzum pass, . kunawar, . kunes, . kuru, in balti, . " in nubra, . kussowlee, . kyuri, . lacustrine clay of avantipura, . " " chango, . " " gol, . " " iskardo, , . " " kamar, . " " karsar, . " " kashmir, . " " kiris, . " " kuru, in nubra, . " " kyuri, . " " lipa, . " " lower dras, . " " lower nubra, . " " phutaksha, . " " thogji lake, . " " zanskar, . ladhe ke dhar, . lake of kashmir, . " salt, of thogji, . lakes, glacial, of sassar pass, . lamayuru, , . lanak pass, . landar, . langera, . lara, . lari, . lazgung pass, . le, , , . lecanora miniata, . limestone of hangarang, . " karakoram, . " " pass, . " murgai, . " piti, . " shahabad, . " zanskar, . lio, . lipa, . liundi, . lyakjung, , . lycium, . lymnæa, fossil, at iskardo, . " " at thogji lake, . " " in nubra, . " " in piti, . machulu river, . mahasu ridge, . markanda river, . markim, . marsilang, . maten, , . mattiana, . melia azedarach, . mir, . miru, in kunawar, . " tibet, . molbil, . murgai, . " river, ascent of, . muztagh pass, . myricaria trees, . nachar, . nagkanda, . nako, . namika pass, . nar, . nasmon, . natural bridge in piti, . natural tunnel, . nettle, alpine, . nimo, . nira, . nirt, . nostoc, . nubra, , . " chu, . " lower, . nurla, . oak, evergreen, . olive, wild, . orchideæ of nubra, . oxybaphus himalayanus, . oxytropis chiliophylla, . padri pass, . padum, . pain dras, . pampur, . panamik, . " hot-springs, . pangi, . pangong lake, . paralysis, curious cases of, . parang pass, . " river, lower course of, . " " upper course of, . pargwal, . parkuta, . partridge, painted, . pashkyum, . pass above changlung in nubra, . " dadu, . " mir, . " nasmon, . " pata, . pass north of le, , . " " ruduk, . passes across kouenlun, . " of tibet, elevation of, . pata, . peganum harmala, . perowskia, . perpetual snow, . " in outer himalaya, . " in tibet, . " on opposite sides of passes, . phatu pass, . phutaksha, . picea webbiana, . pin river, . pindrow, . pinus excelsa in rondu, . " gerardiana, , , . " longifolia, . pitak, . piti, . " river, . planorbis, fossil, , , , . pok, . poplars of indus valley, . populus alba, , . " balsamifera, . " euphratica, . porgyul, , . potato cultivation, . potentilla discolor, . prangos, , . pranu, . pugha, borax plain, . " hot springs, . " ravine, . " sulphur-mine, . pulokanka pass, . quercus ilex, , . quinoa, . raldang, . ramnagar, . rampur, . rangrig, . ribes glandulosum, . rocks of banahal pass, . " butna valley, . " chorbat, . " dadu, . " giah ravine, . " hangarang, . " karakoram pass, . " " plain, . " kargil, . " kashmir, , . " kunawar, . " lower shayuk, . " murgai valley, . " nubra, . " pashkyum, . " pugha, . " rondu, . " simla, . " singhi pass, . " sungnam, . " tawi valley, . " umasi pass, . " wandla ravine, . " waris ravine, . " zanskar, , . rogi, . rondu, . rope-bridge of kartash, . " nasmon, . " padum, . " rampur, . " rondu, . rosa webbiana, . rose, yellow, . rukchin valley, . runang pass, . ruskalan river, . sabathu, . sabu, . sach pass, . saffron cultivation, , . sairi, . salt lake of thogji, . sandstone, modern, of iskardo, . " " karsar, . " " tarkata, . " of pashkyum, . " tertiary of jamu hills, , . saspola, . sassar, . sassar pass, . seda, . serahan, . shahabad, . shali, , . shalimar, . shayuk river, in chorbat, . " " karakoram, . " " khapalu, . " " nubra, , . " " sassar, . " " its junction with indus, . shialkar, . shigar valley, . shol, . siksa, . sildang river, . simla, . sind river, . singhi pass, . sirohi sar, . snow-fall in tibet, . soda, efflorescence, in nubra, . " " piti, . sonamarg, . statice, prickly, . suliman range, . sulphur-mine of pugha, . sungnam, . surmu, . suru, . sutlej river at rampur, . " " wangtu, . " " its diurnal fluctuations, . taksha, . takti pass, . tarkata, . tawi river, . temple buried in lacustrine clay, . tertse, . thalaura, . thawar, . theog, . thogji lake, , . tibet, general description of, . tirit, . tolti, . tongde, . tranda, . trikota debi, . tsatti, . tunglung pass, . turgu, . turtuk, . tussilago farfara, . ulding thung, . umasi pass, . unmaru, . upshi, . urdi, . vegetation of badarwar, . " baltal, . " banahal, . " chatargarh, . " chenab valley, , . " dadu, . " dras, . " gambar valley, . " hangarang pass, . " hattu, . " indus valley below le, . " jamu hills, . " kalka, . " karakoram, . " karsar in nubra, . " kashmir, , , . " kotgarh, , . " kunawar, , . " kussowlee, , . " le, . " mahasu, . " nubra, . " pashkyum, . " phatu pass, . " ramnagar valley, . " rondu, . " runang pass, . " sassar, . " sassar pass, . " simla, . " sind valley, . " sutlej valley at rampur, . " " " wangtu, . " werang pass, . " zanskar, alpine, . " " northern passes, , , . " " valley, , . " zoji pass, . vernag, . vines of parkuta, . " turtuk, . " wild, of butna valley, . vineyards of kunawar, . " sungnam, . wandla, . wangtu bridge, . waris, . wasterwan, . waterfall at wangtu, . " frozen, in dras, . werang pass, . willows of tibet, . winds of tibet, . winter at iskardo, . wulur lake, . yarkand merchants, . " road to, from iskardo, . yulchung, . zangla, . zannichellia, . zanskar, , . zobo, . zoji pass, , . zungsam river, . john edward taylor, printer, little queen street, lincoln's inn fields. the rhododendrons of sikkim-himalaya; being an account, botanical and geographical, of the _rhododendrons_ recently discovered in the province of sikkim, on the eastern himalaya mountains. by joseph dalton hooker, m.d., r.n., f.r.s., f.l.s. edited by sir w. j. hooker, k.h., d.c.l., f.r.s.a. imp. folio. thirty plates. £ _s._ coloured. "in this work we have the first results of dr. hooker's botanical mission to india. the announcement is calculated to startle some of our readers when they know that it was only last january twelvemonths that the doctor arrived in calcutta. that he should have ascended the himalaya, discovered a number of plants, and that they should be published in england in an almost unequalled style of magnificent illustration, in less than eighteen months, is one of the marvels of our time."--_athenæum._ "a most beautiful example of fine drawing and skilful colouring, while the letter-press furnished by the talented author possesses very high interest. of the species of _rhododendron_ which he has found in his adventurous journey, some are quite unrivalled in magnificence of appearance. we recommend the district to the nurseryman. whoever could bring home plenty of seeds of these plants would require no better foundation for a little fortune."--_gardeners' chronicle._ _also, by the same author_, . flora of new zealand. parts i., ii., and iii. twenty plates. price _s._ plain; £ _s._ _d._ coloured. to be completed in five parts. . the botany of the antarctic voyage. two hundred plates. vols, royal to, cloth. £ _s._ plain; £ _s._ coloured. london: reeve and co., henrietta street, covent garden. list of works principally on natural and physical science, published by reeve and co., , henrietta street, covent garden. botany. the victoria regia. by sir w. j. hooker, f.r.s. in elephant folio. illustrated on a large scale by w. fitch. _s._ _d._ the work on the royal water lily contains four plates of very large size, expensively coloured, illustrative of the different stages of flowering and fruiting, with analyses of structure, as follows:-- . a view of the entire plant, flower, fruit, and leaves, on the water. . a flower _of the natural size_ in progress of expanding, together with as much of the enormous foliage as the broad dimensions of the paper will admit. . a fully expanded flower _of the natural size_, with foliage, &c. . a vertical section of the fully developed flower, with various dissections and analyses. "although many works have been devoted to the illustration and description of the _victoria regia_, it seemed still to want one which, whilst it gave an accurate botanical description of the plant, should at the same time show the natural size of its gigantic flowers. this object has been aimed at by the combined labours of sir w. hooker and mr. fitch, and with distinguished success. the illustrations are everything that could be desired in the shape of botanical drawings. they are accurate, and they are beautiful."--_athenæum._ the rhododendrons of sikkim-himalaya. with drawings and descriptions made on the spot. by j. d. hooker, m.d., f.r.s. edited by sir w. j. hooker, d.c.l., f.r.s. in handsome imperial folio, with thirty coloured plates. price _l._ _s._ "in this work we have the first results of dr. hooker's botanical mission to india. the announcement is calculated to startle some of our readers when they know that it was only last january twelvemonths that the doctor arrived in calcutta. that he should have ascended the himalaya, discovered a number of plants, and that they should be published in england in an almost unequalled style of magnificent illustration, in less than eighteen months--is one of the marvels of our time."--_athenæum._ "a most beautiful example of fine drawing and skilful colouring, while the letter-press furnished by the talented author possesses very high interest. of the species of rhododendron which he has found in his adventurous journey, some are quite unrivalled in magnificence of appearance."--_gardeners' chronicle._ sanders's practical treatise on the culture of the vine. with plates. vo. _s._ "mr. assheton smith's place at tedworth has long possessed a great english reputation for the excellence of its fruit and vegetables: one is continually hearing in society of the extraordinary abundance and perfection of its produce at seasons when common gardens are empty, and the great world seems to have arrived at the conclusion that the kitchen gardening and forcing there are nowhere excelled. we have, therefore, examined with no common interest the work before us, for it will be strange indeed, if a man who can act so skilfully as mr. sanders should be unable to offer advice of corresponding value. we have not been disappointed. mr. sanders's directions are as plain as words can make them; and, we will add, as judicious as his long experience had led us to expect. after a careful perusal of his little treatise, we find nothing to object to, and much to praise."--_gardeners' chronicle._ "a clever, well-written, and nicely illustrated horticultural pamphlet, telling us all we want to know on the subject."--_guardian._ phycologia britannica; or, history of the british sea-weeds; containing coloured figures, and descriptions, of all the species of algæ inhabiting the shores of the british islands. by william henry harvey, m.d., m.r.i.a., keeper of the herbarium of the university of dublin, and professor of botany to the dublin society. the price of the work, complete, strongly bound in cloth, is as follows:- in three vols, royal vo, arranged in the } £ order of publication } in four vols, royal vo, arranged systematically} £ according to the synopsis } _a few copies have been printed on large paper._ "the 'history of british sea-weeds' we can most faithfully recommend for its scientific, its pictorial, and its popular value; the professed botanist will find it a work of the highest character, whilst those who desire merely to know the names and history of the lovely plants which they gather on the sea-shore, will find in it the faithful portraiture of every one of them."--_annals and magazine of natural history._ "the drawings are beautifully executed by the author himself on stone, the dissections carefully prepared, and the whole account of the species drawn up in such a way as cannot fail to be instructive, even to those who are well acquainted with the subject. the greater part of our more common algæ have never been illustrated in a manner agreeable to the present state of algology."--_gardeners' chronicle._ popular history of british sea-weeds, comprising all the marine plants. by the rev. david landsborough, a.l.s., member of the wernerian society of edinburgh. with twenty coloured plates by fitch. _second edition._ royal mo. _s._ _d._ "the book is as well executed as it is well timed. the descriptions are scientific as well as popular, and the plates are clear and explicit. not only the forms, but the uses of algæ, are minutely described. it is a worthy sea-side companion--a handbook for every occasional or permanent resident on the sea-shore."--_economist._ "those who wish to make themselves acquainted with british sea-weeds, cannot do better than begin with this elegantly illustrated manual."--_globe._ "this elegant work, though intended for beginners, is well worthy the perusal of those advanced in the science."--_morning herald._ a century of orchidaceous plants, selected from those most worthy of cultivation figured in curtis's botanical magazine, with coloured figures and dissections, chiefly executed by mr. fitch; the descriptions (entirely re-written) by sir william j. hooker, f.r.s. with an introduction on the culture of orchidaceæ generally, and on the treatment of each genus; by john c. lyons, esq. royal to, containing one hundred coloured plates. price _five guineas_. "in the exquisite illustrations to this splendid volume full justice has been rendered to the oddly formed and often brilliantly coloured flowers of this curious and interesting tribe of plants."--_westminster and foreign quarterly review._ "a very acceptable addition to our knowledge of the orchis tribe. the plates are beautifully executed, and have been selected with great care. each species has a brief character attached, and to each genus botanical and practical observations, from the pen of sir william hooker, are prefixed. the work is enriched with a prefatory memoir by mr. lyons, full of sound judgment and experience, on the most approved method of growing orchids."--_literary gazette._ popular history of british ferns, comprising all the species. by thomas moore. with twenty coloured plates by fitch. royal mo, cloth. _s._ _d._ "mr. moore's 'popular history of british ferns' forms one of the numerous elegant and instructive books by which messrs. reeve and co. have endeavoured to popularize the study of natural history. in the volume before us, mr. moore gives a clear account of the british ferns, with directions for their cultivation; accompanied by numerous coloured plates neatly illustrated, and preceded by a general introduction on the natural character of this graceful class of plants."--_spectator._ "we have rarely, if ever, seen a publication relating to plants where the object aimed at is more fully accomplished than in this elegant volume."--_hooker's journal._ "a prettily got-up book, and fit for a drawing-room table."--_the friend._ the british desmidieÆ; or, fresh-water algæ. by john ralfs, m.r.c.s., honorary member of the penzance nat. hist. society. the drawings by edward jenner, a.l.s. royal vo, thirty-five coloured plates. price _s._ cloth. nereis australis; or, illustrations of the algæ of the southern ocean. by professor harvey, m.d., m.r.i.a. to be completed in four parts, each containing twenty-five coloured plates, imp. vo. price _l._ _s._ parts i. and ii. recently published. "of this most important contribution to our knowledge of exotic algæ, we know not if we can pay it a higher compliment than by saying it is worthy of the author. it should be observed that the work is not a selection of certain species, but an arranged system of all that is known of australian algæ, accompanied by figures of the new and rare ones, especially of those most remarkable for beauty of form and colour."--_london journal of botany._ curtis's botanical magazine (commenced in ); continued by sir william jackson hooker, k.h., d.c.l., &c., director of the royal gardens of kew. *** published in monthly numbers, each containing six plates, price _s._ _d._ coloured; and in annual volumes, price _s._ hooker's journal of botany and kew gardens miscellany. edited by sir william jackson hooker. this botanical journal, in addition to original papers by eminent botanists, contains the botanical news of the month, communications from botanical travellers, notices of new books, &c. *** in monthly numbers, with a plate, price _s._ icones plantarum; or, figures, with brief descriptive characters and remarks, of new and rare plants. published monthly, with eight plates. price _s._ _d._ (_under the authority of the lords commissioners of the admiralty._) flora antarctica; or, botany of the antarctic voyage of h.m. discovery ships _erebus_ and _terror_, during the years - , under the command of capt. sir james clark ross, r.n., f.r.s. by joseph dalton hooker, m.d., r.n., f.r.s., &c., botanist to the expedition. in two vols. royal to, cloth, containing plates. price _l._ _s._ coloured; _l._ _s._ plain. "the descriptions of the plants in this work are carefully drawn up, and much interesting matter, critical, explanatory, and historical, is added in the form of notes. the drawings of the plants are admirably executed by mr. fitch; and we know of no productions from his pencil, or, in fact, any botanical illustrations at all, that are superior in faithful representation and botanical correctness."--_athenæum._ cryptogamia antarctica; or, cryptogamic botany of the antarctic voyage of h. m. ships _erebus_ and _terror_. by joseph dalton hooker, m.d., f.r.s., &c. royal to, cloth, containing plates. price _l._ _s._ coloured; _l._ _s._ plain. the esculent funguses of england; a treatise on their history, uses, structure, nutritious properties, mode of cooking, preserving, &c. by the rev. dr. badham. super-royal vo, cloth, coloured plates. _s._ "the english are not a fungus-eating nation; and though we do not eat frogs like our neighbours, we are rather celebrated for our love of another of the reptilian family--turtle. there is no reason why we should eschew frogs and relish turtle; still less is there for our eating one or two of the numerous edible funguses which our island produces, and condemning all the rest. to draw attention to this fact, and to supply an accurate account, with a correct delineation, of the esculent species of this family in great britain, are the objects of the book before us. such a work was a desideratum in this country, and it has been well supplied by dr. badham; with his beautiful drawings of the various edible fungi in his hand the collector can scarcely make a mistake. the majority of those which grow in our meadows, and in the decaying wood of our orchards and forests, are unfit for food; and the value of dr. badham's book consists in the fact, that it enables us to distinguish from these such as may be eaten with impunity."--_athenæum._ illustrations of british mycology; containing figures and descriptions of the funguses of interest and novelty indigenous to britain. _first series._ by mrs. hussey. to, cloth gilt, with ninety beautifully coloured drawings. price _l._ _s._ _d._ "this talented lady and her sister were in the first instance induced to draw some of the more striking fungi, merely as picturesque objects. their collection of drawings at length became important from their number and accuracy, and a long continued study of the nutritive properties of fungi has induced the former to lay the results of her investigations before the public, under the form of illustrations of the more useful and interesting species. the figures are so faithful that there can be no difficulty in at once determining with certainty the objects they are intended to represent; and the observations will be found of much interest to the general reader."--_gardeners' chronicle._ "this is an elegant and interesting book: it would be an ornament to the drawing-room table; but it must not, therefore, be supposed that the value of the work is not intrinsic, for a great deal of new and valuable matter accompanies the plates, which are not fancy sketches, but so individualized and life-like, that to mistake any species seems impossible. the accessories of each are significant of site, soil, and season of growth, so that the botanist may study with advantage what the artist may inspect with admiration."--_morning post._ illustrations of british mycology; containing figures and descriptions of the funguses of interest and novelty indigenous to britain. _second series._ by mrs. hussey. publishing in monthly parts, coloured drawings, price _s._ voices from the woodlands; or, history of forest trees, lichens, mosses, and ferns. by mary roberts. elegantly bound. with twenty coloured plates of forest scenery, by fitch. royal mo. _s._ _d._ "this work includes a wide range of genera, from the lichen to the oak, and by way of giving variety to a subject so commonplace, the several plants are supposed to tell their own stories, and describe their own family peculiarities."--_atlas._ "the fair authoress of this pretty volume has shown more than the usual good taste of her sex in the selection of her mode of conveying to the young interesting instruction upon pleasing topics. she bids them join in a ramble through the sylvan wilds, and at her command the fragile lichen, the gnarled oak, the towering beech, the graceful chestnut, and the waving poplar discourse eloquently, and tell their respective histories and uses."--_britannia._ popular field botany; containing a familiar and technical description of the plants most common to the british isles, adapted to the study of either the artificial or natural systems. by agnes catlow. _second edition._ arranged in twelve chapters, each being the botanical lesson for the month. containing twenty coloured plates of figures. royal mo. _s._ _d._ "the design of this work is to furnish young persons with a self-instructor in botany, enabling them with little difficulty to discover the scientific names of the common plants they may find in their country rambles, to which are appended a few facts respecting their uses, habits, &c. the plants are classed in months, the illustrations are nicely coloured, and the book is altogether an elegant, as well as useful present."--_illustrated london news._ the tourist's flora. a descriptive catalogue of the flowering plants and ferns of the british islands, france, germany, switzerland, and italy. by joseph woods, f.a.s, f.l.s, f.g.s. vo. _s._ "the appearance of this book has been long expected by us; and we can justly state that it has quite fulfilled all our expectations, and will support the high reputation of its author. mr. woods is known to have spent many years in collecting and arranging the materials for the present work, with a view to which he has, we believe, visited all the most interesting localities mentioned in it. this amount of labour, combined with extensive botanical knowledge, has enabled him to produce a volume such as few, if any other, botanists were capable of writing."--_annals of natural history._ zoology. (_under the authority of the lords commissioners of the admiralty._) zoology of the voyage of h.m.s. samarang. edited by arthur adams, f.l.s, assistant-surgeon, r.n, attached to the expedition. vertebrata. by _john edward gray_, f.r.s., keeper of the zoological department of the british museum. fishes. by sir john richardson, m.d., f.r.s. mollusca. by the editor and lovell reeve, f.l.s. including the anatomy of the _spirula_, by prof. owen, f.r.s. crustacea. by the editor and adam white, f.l.s. *** complete in one handsome royal to volume, containing plates. price, strongly bound in cloth, _l._ _s._ the birds of ireland. by william thompson, esq., president of the natural history and philosophical society of belfast. vol. i., price _s._ cloth. vol. ii, price _s._ vol. iii., price _s._, vo, cloth. "our readers, if once they get hold of this work, will not readily lay it down; for while habits are dwelt upon in a manner so amusing that we have known extracts to be read aloud to a delighted circle of children, it contains the precise information which the ornithologist demands, and brings forward topics both of popular and scientific interest, such as the geographical distribution of species, the causes which seem to operate on their increase and decrease, their migrations, their uses to man, the occasional injuries they inflict, and the important benefits they confer. it is a standard work, and will rank with those of our first ornithologists."--_dublin quarterly journal of medical science._ contributions to ornithology. by sir william jardine, bart., f.r.s.e., f.l.s., &c. the "contributions" are devoted to the various departments of ornithology. they are published at intervals in parts, and form an annual volume, illustrated by numerous coloured and uncoloured plates, woodcuts, &c. the series for , containing ten plates, price _s._ the series for , containing twenty-four plates, price _s._ the series for , containing twenty-one plates, vignettes, and woodcuts, price _s._ the series for , containing fourteen plates, price _s._ the dodo and its kindred; or, the history, affinities, and osteology of the dodo, solitaire, and other extinct birds of the islands mauritius, rodriguez, and bourbon. by h. e. strickland, esq., m.a., f.r.g.s., f.g.s., president of the ashmolean society, and a. g. melville, m.d., m.r.c.s. royal quarto, with eighteen plates and numerous wood-illustrations. price _s._ "the labour expended on this book, and the beautiful manner in which it is got up, render it a work of great interest to the naturalist. * * it is a model of how such subjects should be treated. we know of few more elaborate and careful pieces of comparative anatomy than is given of the head and foot by dr. melville. the dissection is accompanied by lithographic plates, creditable alike to the artist and the printer."--_athenæum._ popular british ornithology; comprising a familiar and technical description of the birds of the british isles. by p. h. gosse, author of 'the ocean,' 'the birds of jamaica,' &c. in twelve chapters, each being the ornithological lesson for the month. in one vol. royal mo, with twenty plates of figures. price _s._ _d._ coloured. "to render the subject of ornithology clear, and its study attractive, has been the great aim of the author of this beautiful little volume.... it is embellished by upwards of figures of british birds beautifully coloured."--_morning herald._ "this was a book much wanted, and will prove a boon of no common value, containing, as it does, the names, descriptions, and habits of all the british birds. it is handsomely got up."--_mirror._ conchologia iconica; or, figures and descriptions of the shells of molluscous animals, with critical remarks on their synonyms, affinities, and circumstances of habitation. by lovell reeve, f.l.s. *** demy to. published monthly, in parts, each containing eight plates. price _s._ sold also in monographs: £ _s._ _d._ achatina achatinella arca artemis buccinum bulimus bullia cardita cardium cassidaria cassis chama chiton chitonellus conus corbula crassatella cypræa cypricardia delphinula dolium eburna fasciolaria ficula fissurella fusus glauconome haliotis harpa hemipecten ianthina isocardia lucina mangelia mesalia} eglisia} mitra monoceros murex myadora oliva oniscia paludomus partula pectunculus phorus pleurotoma pterocera purpura pyrula ranella ricinula rostellaria strombus struthiolaria turbinella triton turbo turritella voluta _the genus_ helix _is in course of publication._ sold also in volumes: vol. i. conus pleurotoma crassatella phorus pectunculus cardita delphinula cypricardia harpa [_ plates, price l. s. d. half-bound._] vol. ii. corbula arca triton glauconome myadora ranella mitra cardium isocardia [_ plates, price l. s. d. half-bound._] vol. iii. murex cyprÆa haliotis mangelia purpura ricinula monoceros bullia buccinum [_ plates, price l. s. d. half-bound._] vol. iv. chama chiton chitonellus ficula pyrula turbinella fasciolaria fusus paludomus turbo [_ plates, price l. s. d. half-bound._] vol. v. bulimus achatina dolium cassis turritella mesalia eglisia oniscia cassidaria eburna [_ plates, price l. s. d. half-bound._] vol. vi. voluta fissurella partula achatinella artemis lucina hemipecten oliva strombus pterocera rostellaria struthiolaria [_ plates, price l. s. d. half-bound._] the figures are drawn and lithographed by mr. g. b. sowerby, junr., of the _natural size_, from specimens chiefly in the collection of mr. cuming. "this great work is intended to embrace a complete description and illustration of the shells of molluscous animals, and, so far as we have seen, it is not such as to disappoint the large expectations that have been formed respecting it. the figures of the shells are all of full size; in the descriptions a careful analysis is given of the labours of others; and the author has apparently spared no pains to make the work a standard authority on the subject of which it treats."--_athenæum._ conchologia systematica; or, complete system of conchology, illustrated with plates of upwards of figures of shells. by lovell reeve, f.l.s. "the text is both interesting and instructive; many of the plates have appeared before in mr. sowerby's works, but from the great expense of collecting them, and the miscellaneous manner of their publication, many persons will no doubt gladly avail themselves of this select and classified portion, which also contains many original figures."--_athenæum._ *** in two quarto volumes, cloth. price _l._ coloured; _l._ plain. elements of conchology; or, introduction to the natural history of shells and their animals. by lovell reeve, f.l.s. parts i. to x., price _s._ _d._ each. "the work before us is designed to promote a more philosophical spirit of inquiry into the nature and origin of shells."--_ecclesiastical review._ conchologist's nomenclator; or, catalogue of recent species of shells, with their authorities, synonyms, and references to works where figured or described. by agnes catlow, assisted by lovell reeve, f.l.s. *** in sheets for labels, _s._ cloth, _s._ half-bound, interleaved, _s._ conchylia dithyra insularum britannicarum. the bivalve shells of the british isles, systematically arranged. by william turton, m.d. reprinted verbatim from the original edition. the illustrations, printed from the original copper-plates, are distinguished for their accurate detail. twenty coloured plates. price _l._ _s._ popular history of mollusca; or, shells and their animal inhabitants. by mary roberts. royal mo, with twenty coloured plates by wing. price _s._ _d._ "this little volume forms another of the excellent series of illustrated works on various departments of natural history, for which the public is indebted to mr. reeve.... when we add, that the plates contain no fewer than ninety figures of shells, with their animal inhabitants, all of them well, and several admirably, executed, and that the text is written throughout in a readable and even elegant style, with such digression in poetry and prose as serve to relieve its scientific details, we think that we have said enough to justify the favourable opinion we have expressed."--_british and foreign medico-chirurgical review._ curtis's british entomology, being illustrations and descriptions of the genera of insects found in great britain and ireland, comprising coloured figures, from nature, of the most rare and beautiful species, and, in many instances, of the plants upon which they are found. by john curtis, f.l.s. the 'british entomology' was originally brought out in monthly numbers, size royal vo, at _s._ _d._, each containing four coloured plates with text. it was commenced in , and completed in , in numbers, forming volumes, price £ _s._ the work is now offered new, and in the best condition:-- price to subscribers for complete copies in sixteen volumes £ . price of the new issue, and of odd numbers _s._ _d._ per no. *** vols. i. and ii. of the new issue are now ready for delivery. insecta britannica. diptera. by f. walker, esq. f.l.s. vol. i. illustrated with plates. price _s._ episodes of insect life. three vols., crown vo, with illustrations. price _l._ _s._, elegantly bound in fancy cloth. coloured and bound extra, gilt back, sides, and edges, _l._ _s._ *** each volume, containing thirty-six illustrations, is complete in itself, and sold separately. price _s._ plain, _s._ coloured. "the book includes solid instruction as well as genial and captivating mirth. the scientific knowledge of the writer is thoroughly reliable."--_examiner._ "the letterpress is interspersed with vignettes clearly and cleverly engraved on stone: and the whole pile of natural history--fable, poetry, theory, and fact--is stuck over with quaint apophthegms and shrewd maxims, deduced for the benefit of man from the contemplation of such tiny monitors as gnats and moths. altogether the book is a curious and interesting one--quaint and clever, genial and well-informed."--_morning chronicle._ popular british entomology, comprising a familiar and technical description of the insects most common to the british isles. by maria e. catlow. in twelve chapters, each being the entomological lesson for the month. in one vol. royal mo, with sixteen coloured plates of figures. price _s._ _d._ "judiciously executed, with excellent figures of the commoner species, for the use of young beginners."--_annual address of the president of the entomological society._ "miss catlow's 'popular british entomology' contains an introductory chapter or two on classification, which are followed by brief generic and specific descriptions in english of above of the commoner british species, together with accurate figures of about of those described; and will be quite a treasure to anyone just commencing the study of this fascinating science."--_westminster and foreign quarterly review._ popular history of mammalia. by adam white, f.l.s., assistant in the zoological department of the british museum. with sixteen coloured plates of quadrupeds, &c. by b. waterhouse hawkins, f.l.s. royal mo. _s._ _d._ "the present increase of our stores of anecdotal matter respecting every kind of animal has been used with much tact by mr. white, who has a terse chatty way of putting down his reflections, mingled with that easy familiarity which every one accustomed daily to zoological pursuits is sure to attain. the book is profusely illustrated."--_atlas._ the british palÆozoic fossils, added by professor sedgwick to the woodwardian museum. by professor m'coy. in royal to, with numerous plates. part i., containing the radiata and articulata, is now ready. _s._ part ii., containing the lower palæozoic mollusca, is in the press. thoughts on a pebble; or, a first lesson in geology. by dr. mantell, f.r.s. _eighth edition_, considerably enlarged. with four coloured plates, twenty-seven woodcuts, and a portrait of the author. square mo. _s._ "i have just procured a little work for my young pupils, a most delightful introduction, entitled 'thoughts on a pebble, or a first lesson in geology,' by dr. mantell, and i must request you to read it; for although it does not consist of more than thirty pages [increased in the present edition to upwards of a hundred] it will expand to your view a new world that will astonish and delight you."--_philosophy in sport._ miscellaneous. elementary physics; an introduction to the study of natural philosophy. by robert hunt, professor of mechanical science at the government school of mines, author of 'poetry of science,' 'researches on light,' and 'handbook to the great exhibition.' illustrated with a coloured frontispiece, and vignettes and wood engravings. fcap. vo, cloth. _s._ _d._ contents. chapter i. general properties of ponderable matter. " ii. general laws of motion. " iii. laws of slightly elastic fluids. " iv. laws of elastic fluids. chapter v. sonorous movement of bodies. " vi. primary phenomena of electricity. " vii. heat, or caloric. " viii. light and actinism. "as a really elementary treatise on the whole work of physical science, we know none to compare with it, and it is, therefore, admirably adapted for the wants of the student; whilst, on the other hand, it may be read and looked through with profit and interest by those who have long mastered the general truths it embodies, and for the many novel illustrations and applications of these which it contains."--_british and foreign medico-chirurgical review._ popular mineralogy; a familiar account of minerals and their uses. by henry sowerby. royal mo, with plates of figures. _s._ _d._ "mr. sowerby has endeavoured to throw around his subject every attraction. his work is fully and carefully illustrated with coloured plates."--_spectator._ panthea, the spirit of nature. by robert hunt, author of 'the poetry of science.' one vol. vo, cloth. _s._ _d._ "a work of very peculiar character, in which philosophy and poetry are finely blended, and where great truths and noble sentiments are expressed in language full of beauty and eloquence."--_north british review._ "ample opportunities are afforded for conveying scientific information in a popular form, and these have been liberally and well embraced by the author."--_athenæum._ "there is, throughout, the closeness of matter and eloquence of style which distinguished the 'poetry of science.'"--_spectator._ the poetry of science; or, studies of the physical phenomena of nature. by robert hunt, author of 'panthea,' and 'researches on light.' _second edition._ revised. with an index. one vol. vo, cloth. _s._ "a truly scientific work, which has the character of poetry only in so far as truth is poetical, and may be regarded as a popular treatise on natural philosophy, chemistry, and geology, similar in its nature and object to the 'kosmos' of humboldt."--_north british review._ illustrations of the wisdom and benevolence of the deity, as manifested in nature. by h. edwards, ll.d. cloth, _s._ _d._ "a little excursion in the track of paley and the broad road of the bridgewater treatises. animals, atmosphere, organic matter, light, and electricity are the natural elements out of which the author deduces his pious lessons, leading to a first cause in wonder, admiration, and worship."--_literary gazette._ drops of water; their marvellous and beautiful inhabitants displayed by the microscope. by agnes catlow. square mo, with coloured plates. _s._ _d._ "in this little book, illustrated with plates scarcely inferior to those of the well-known ehrenberg, we have the wonders of the microscope revealed in the history of a drop of water. miss catlow's pleasing works on botany, &c., are all well known, and we can assure our readers that in this little history of infusorial animals and plants of a drop of water she has added much to her well-deserved reputation. the style in which it is got up renders it worthy of companionship with the choicest ornaments of the library table."--_liverpool standard._ "a pleasant introduction to microscopic studies, having reference in particular to the animalcules or infusoria, as they are now more commonly called, which inhabit water and other liquids. the little volume before us contains a goodly body of information touching the infusorial world, with some clearly and sensibly written information as to the species of water, and the seasons, in which certain varieties are to be found."--_atlas._ "'drops of water' is an introduction to one of nature's inexhaustible sources of wonder and delight, performed in a very efficient and satisfactory manner.... as a specimen of typography, it is of a superior character; and the plates are indicative of no small degree of artistic skill as well as science."--_observer._ "an elegant little book, both in the getting up and its literature.... the text is accompanied by coloured plates, that exhibit the most remarkable creatures of the watery world."--_spectator._ "of the manner in which this work is executed, we can say that, like miss catlow's previous productions on natural history, it displays an accurate acquaintance with the subject, and a keen delight in the contemplation of the objects to which it is devoted. as far as the living beings which inhabit 'drops of water' are concerned, we know of no better introduction to the use of the microscope than the present volume."--_athenæum._ instinct and reason. by alfred smee, f.r.s., author of 'electro-biology.' one vol. vo. with coloured plates by wing, and woodcuts. _s._ "mr. smee's facts are extremely valuable. his work, moreover, is one of the most vivid interest. entertainment and instruction are here combined in a very high degree; 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"when camping out on the mountain-top or in the wilderness; roughing it in his long journeys through the interior; observing the very singular mode of life there presented to his notice; describing the curious characters that fell under his observation, the arts or substitutes for arts of the people, and the natural productions of the country--these travels are full of attraction. the book, like the country it describes, is full of new matter."--_spectator._ the narrative of his varied adventures forms not only to the enthusiastic botanist, but to the general reader, an exceedingly entertaining and also instructive book, from the new view which it gives of the society of brazil--particularly in its less known provinces."--_tait's edinburgh magazine._ "this volume is from the pen of an able naturalist, whose heart is in his occupation.... some of the regions he visited have seldom been trodden by europeans--never by englishmen; so that his observations derive value from the novelty of the matter to which they relate."--_athenæum._ "mr. gardner's volume, bearing the inimitable impress of candour and good faith, as of the competency of the author for the task he undertook, is not more valuable to the man of science than interesting to the general reader."--_ecclesiastical review._ the planetary and stellar universe. by robert james mann. with fifty astronomical diagrams and maps of the circumpolar constellations. fcap. cloth. _s._ "a brief abstract of the discoveries of newton, clearly explained and elegantly illustrated."--_westminster and foreign quarterly review._ new works to be published in may and june. . parks and pleasure grounds; or, practical notes on country residences, villas, public parks, and gardens. by charles j. h. smith, landscape gardener. . talpa; or, the chronicle of a clay farm: an agricultural fragment. by c. w. h. with illustrations by george cruikshank. . popular history of british zoophytes. by the rev. dr. landsborough. with coloured plates. . popular scripture zoology; or, history of the animals mentioned in the bible. by maria catlow. with coloured plates. . western himalaya and tibet; the narrative of a journey through the mountains of northern india, during the years - . by thomas thomson, m.d. . flora of new zealand. by dr. j. d. hooker, f.r.s. with coloured plates. . flora of western eskimaux-land, including the sound to point barrow, and the adjacent islands. by berthold seemann. with plates. [_now ready, price s._] printed by j. e. taylor, little queen-street, lincoln's-inn-fields. * * * * * * transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. on page , text appears to be missing from the phrase: "the ridge continues in a * direction". on page , th of may is probably a typo for th of june. on page , the phrase "was finely seen" should perhaps be "was finally seen". none trans-himalaya [illustration] macmillan and co., limited london · bombay · calcutta melbourne the macmillan company new york · boston · chicago atlanta · san francisco the macmillan co. of canada, ltd. toronto [illustration: aron jonason photogr. . sven hedin. _frontispiece_] trans-himalaya discoveries and adventures in tibet by sven hedin with illustrations from photographs, water-colour sketches, and drawings by the author and maps in two volumes vol. ii macmillan and co., limited st. martin's street, london _first edition _ _reprinted _ contents chapter xxxv page immured monks chapter xxxvi over the chang-la-pod-la chapter xxxvii targo-gangri and the shuru-tso chapter xxxviii to the outlet of the chaktak-tsangpo in the brahmaputra chapter xxxix muhamed isa's death chapter xl along byways to tradum chapter xli a peep into nepal chapter xlii in search of the source of the brahmaputra chapter xliii the source of the sacred river--a departure chapter xliv a night on manasarowar chapter xlv more lake voyages chapter xlvi a stormy voyage over the holy lake chapter xlvii on the roof of the gossul monastery chapter xlviii our last days on tso-mavang chapter xlix adventures on langak-tso chapter l the source of the sutlej chapter li a pilgrimage round kang-rinpoche chapter lii om mani padme hum chapter liii the discovery of the source of the indus chapter liv a resolution chapter lv a new chapter chapter lvi up to the heights of dapsang chapter lvii on the roof of the world chapter lviii forty degrees below zero chapter lix in the snow chapter lx death of the last veteran chapter lxi thirty days of storm chapter lxii adventures of ourselves and puppy in nagrong chapter lxiii through the highlands of bongba chapter lxiv tsongpun tashi chapter lxv buptsang-tsangpo, one of the largest rivers of the heart of tibet chapter lxvi in the robbers' paradise chapter lxvii april chapter lxviii his excellency the governor of saka chapter lxix kamba tsenam, father of the robbers chapter lxx the seventh crossing of the trans-himalaya--to the heavenly lake of the throne mountain chapter lxxi another journey across the white patch chapter lxxii the last days in unknown country chapter lxxiii the trans-himalaya chapter lxxiv simla index illustrations page . sven hedin _frontispiece_ . hermit's grotto near the chang-la-pod-la . robert and rabsang by the ice on the way to the chang-la-pod-la . a lhadse decked with mani-stones and prayer-streamers , . nomads south of targo-gangri . mendicant lama blowing on a human bone . tibetan boy . kubi-gangri from camp . targo-gangri from a hill near camp . the chomo-uchong group from the kinchen-la, may , . lundup's squadron. to the left a part of targo-gangri, camp . lundup (on horseback to the left) and his retinue prevent me from proceeding to the dangra-yum-tso , , . targo-gangri from the south . the shuru-tso, with targo-gangri in the background . on the upper raga-tsangpo . angden-la . chomo-uchong from the east , . angden-la, a pass on the trans-himalaya . manis on the way to the angden-la . chomo-uchong from lamlung-la . panorama from the ta-la. the brahmaputra valley and the himalayas in the background . beggar at tashi-gembe . young tibetan at the mouth of the chaktak-tsangpo . wandering lama with a wooden glove in his hand, such as is used to protect the hands in the prostration pilgrimage round the holy mountain kailas . the corpse of muhamed isa . muhamed isa's funeral procession , , . the interment of muhamed isa . woman at the mouth of the chaktak-tsangpo in the tsangpo . tibetan of saka . lama in saka-dzong , , , . tibetan boys and girls of saka and tradum . woman of nyuku . two tibetans . the gova of tuksum . girl at pasa-guk . view from the kore-la towards the south-west . gulam razul's tents in gartok . landscape in upper nepal . a chhorten in nepal . group of tibetan women . women in the village of namla . inhabitants of the village of namla . lama in my boat . loading the boat with boxes on crossing the brahmaputra . panorama of kubi-gangri and the langta-chen glacier, with the source of the brahmaputra (from a height of , feet, july , ) , , . the mountains at the source of the brahmaputra . tibetans on the bank of the soma-tsangpo . group of natives of langmar . robert in the boat . sheep-shearing at tugu-gompa on manasarowar . the god of the lake rising from tso-mavang . temple hall of the lake-god of tso-mavang . chenresi's image in tugu-gompa . the lhakang hall in tugu-gompa . lama with prayer-drum . lama before the temple door in tugu-gompa . yanggo-gompa . interior of the temple, tugu . a dreamer. lama in yanggo-gompa on manasarowar . the old nun in yanggo-gompa . the holy lake manasarowar from tugu-gompa, with kailas in the background _coloured_ . boy on the upper tsangpo . the young prior of langbo-nan . temple vessels in chiu-gompa . two children in shigatse . kailas behind nyandi-gompa . my pack-sheep . part of kailas . kailas from diri-pu . confluence of the two arms of the indus . tibetan female pilgrims at kailas . the gova by whose help the source of the indus was discovered (seated) and tibetans at kailas . gulam razul beside bales of chinese brick-tea . tibetan tent . monastery of gar-gunsa . images at chushut . the policemen from simla . my boat on the indus . ladaki women , , . at the monastery door in tashi-gang between gartok and ladak . dancing women in chushut, a village on my way back to ladak . old woman . lama in chushut . on the way to tankse . in the indus valley on the way to ladak . the new horses and mules at drugub . robert in winter dress . abdul kerim, the new caravan leader , , . lobsang, gulam, kutus--my last trusty followers . beggars . abdul kerim's new tent . my brown puppy with my cook, tsering , , . my white ladaki horse . panorama from camp , bongba . panorama from camp , shyok valley . view from camp _coloured_ . the small salt lake south of camp _coloured_ . horses going to drink at the lake near camp . abdul kerim on the left _coloured_ . mountain north-east of camp ; the freshwater lake in the foreground _coloured_ . storm clouds over the snowy mountains south of camp _coloured_ . camp . camp . the beginning of a storm . camp . lemchung-tso, looking east . camp . kanchung-gangri from the north . my dying pony . lost beyond recovery . "if this continues a few days longer, we are lost" , , , , . panoramas from the camps , , , , ; in the last two, sha-kangsham . the author as a shepherd , , . the summits of lunpo-gangri from camps , , and . wrestling . two guides . boy with hat . shepherd boy . sonam ngurbu, chief of the chokchu province . dorche tsuen, governor of the saka province . man with a singular cap, in sonam ngurbu's escort . tagla tsering, the chief who refused to let me go to the dangra-yum-tso . travelling ladaki merchant in west tibet . oang gye, son of the governor of saka . panchor, the yak-slayer, my guide on the journey to the teri-nam-tso . woman of yumba-matsen . tibetans with yaks . dorche tsuen on the march . farewell entertainment for the tibetans on may , , , , . the dancers at the camp-fire: tubges, kunchuk, suen . inner court of selipuk . dorche tsuen and ngavang on horseback . the author in tibetan dress , . soldiers of the garrison of saka-dzong, belonging to our escort . armed tibetan from the country between the teri-nam-tso and the dangra-yum-tso . boy with small gun on the southern shore of the teri-nam-tso . trooper of the escort . tibetan of teri-nam-tso . young shepherd of bongba . guests at the opening of my tent on the bank of the teri-nam-tso . the yaks fording the river soma-tsangpo . nima tashi, commander of the government escort on the way to the teri-nam-tso _coloured_ . nuns of mendong _coloured_ . a high lama of chokchu _coloured_ . the prior of selipuk _coloured_ . two lamas of mendong . my sheep crossing the river soma-tsangpo . village below lunkar-gompa on the tarok-tso _coloured_ . mendong monastery west of the teri-nam-tso _coloured_ . selipuk monastery south-west of the nganglaring-tso _coloured_ . holiday costumes and ornaments of tibetan women of kyangrang in the trans-himalaya _coloured_ . crossing the kangsham river . the village of lunkar . group of tibetans at the teri-nam-tso . the village of lunkar from the temple hill . the southern shore of manasarowar with grazing yaks . lunkar-gompa . selipuk-gompa . the trans-himalaya from abuk-la . storm over the trans-himalaya . sonam ngurbu and his followers on horseback . some of our horses on the way to kamba tsenam's tent . lama of chokchu taking leave of the prior of selipuk . lama of chokchu on horseback , . boys sitting . young lama . old woman . colonel t. g. montgomerie . abbé huc . altar table with images of gods in mangnang-gompa _coloured_ . the author in tibetan costume at the mission station in poo . the last members of the last expedition in poo . my puppy . takkar in his new home with the missionaries in poo . simla . the last members of the expedition at the entrance of the viceregal lodge in simla maps . the sources of the brahmaputra, sutlej, and indus. . a map of the trans-himalaya by dr. sven hedin. . a map of tibet showing dr. sven hedin's routes - . (_at end of volume._) chapter xxxv immured monks we had heard of a lama who had lived for the last three years in a cave in the valley above the monastery of linga, and though i knew that i should not be allowed to see either the monk or the interior of his ghastly dwelling, i would not miss the opportunity of at least gaining some slight notion of how he was housed. on april , , eighteen months to a day after i had left stockholm, dreary windy weather prevailed, with thickly falling snow and dense clouds. we rode up to linga, past rows of fine _chhortens_, left the last dormitories behind us, saw an old tree-trunk painted white and red, passed a small pool with crystal-clear spring water thinly frozen over, and heaps of _mani_ stones with streamer poles, and then arrived at the small convent samde-puk, built on the very point of a spur between two side valleys. it is affiliated to the linga monastery, and has only four brethren, who all came to greet me heartily at the entrance. it is a miniature copy, outwardly and inwardly, of those we have seen before. the _dukang_ has only three pillars and one divan for the four monks, who read the mass together, nine prayer-cylinders of medium size which are set in motion by leathern straps, a drum and a gong, two masks with diadems of skulls, and a row of idols, among which may be recognized several copies of chenresi and sekiya kongma, the chief abbot of sekiya. a few steps to the south-west we passed over a sheet of schist with two stone huts at its foot containing brushwood and twigs for burning. in samde-pu-pe were two small temples with altars of mud. in one of them were idols of medium size and sea shells, and before them incense smouldered, not in the usual form of sticks, but in powder. it was strewn in a zigzag line, was lighted at one end, and allowed to smoulder away to the other. within was a statue of lovun with two lights before it, and a shelf with writings called chöna. rain water had percolated in and formed white vertical channels in the plaster, and under the ceiling _kadakhs_ and draperies fluttered in the draught. here the mice were less disturbed than in the ghostly castle pesu. close at hand at the foot of the mountain is the hermitage, _dupkang_, in which a hermit spends his days and years. it is built over a spring which bubbles up in the centre of the single room, a square apartment with each side five paces long. the walls are very thick, and are in one solid mass, unbroken by windows. the doorway is very low, and the wooden door is shut and locked; but that is not enough, so a wall of large blocks and smaller stones has been built before the door, and even the smallest interstices between them have been carefully filled up with pebbles. not an inch of the door can be seen. but beside the entrance is a tiny tunnel through which the hermit's food can be pushed in. the amount of daylight which can penetrate through the long narrow loophole must be very small; and it does not shine in direct, for the front of the hut is shut in by a wall, forming a small court, which only the monk who brings the anchorite his daily ration may enter. a small chimney rises from the flat roof, for the hermit may make himself tea every sixth day, and for this purpose some sticks of firewood are pushed through the loophole twice in the month. through the chimney, too, a feeble light may fall, and by means of these two vents the air is renewed in the cell. "what is the name of the lama who is now walled up in this cell?" i asked. "he has no name, and even if we knew it we durst not utter it. we call him merely the lama rinpoche" (according to köppen, lama means _quo nemo est superior_, one who has no one over him; and rinpoche means gem, jewel, holiness). "where has he come from?" "he was born in ngor in naktsang." "has he relations?" "that we do not know; and if he has any, they do not know that he is here." "how long has he lived in the darkness?" "it is now three years since he went in." "and how long will he remain there?" "until he dies." "may he never come out again into the daylight before his death?" "no; he has taken the strictest of all oaths, namely, the sacred vow only to leave the cell as a corpse." "how old is he?" "we do not know his age, but he looked about forty." "but what happens if he is ill? cannot he get help?" "no; he may never speak to another human being. if he falls ill he must wait patiently till he is better again or dies." "you never know, then, how he is?" "not before his death. a bowl of _tsamba_ is pushed every day into the opening, and a piece of tea and a piece of butter every sixth day; this he takes at night, and puts back the empty bowl to be filled for the next meal. when we find the bowl untouched in the opening we know that the immured man is unwell. if he has not touched the _tsamba_ the next day our fears increase; and if six days pass and the food is not taken, we conclude he is dead and break open the entrance." "has that ever happened?" "yes; three years ago a lama died, who had spent twelve years in there, and fifteen years ago one died who had lived forty years in solitude and entered the darkness at the age of twenty. no doubt the bombo has heard in tong of the lama who lived in the hermitage of the monastery lung-ganden-gompa for sixty-nine years, completely shut off from the world and the light of day." "but is it not possible that the prisoner may speak to the monk who pushes the _tsamba_ dish into the loophole? there is no witness present to see that all is correct." "that could never happen and is not allowed," answered my informant with a smile; "for the monk outside would be eternally damned were he to set his mouth to the loophole and try to talk to the recluse, and the latter would break the charm if he spoke from within. if the man in there were to speak now, the three years he has passed there already would not be put down to his credit, and he would not like that. if, however, a lama in linga or samde-puk falls ill, he may write his complaint and a request for the anchorite's intercession on a piece of paper, which is placed in the _tsamba_ bowl and pushed into the opening. then the recluse prays for the sick man, and if the latter has faith in the power of prayer, and holds no unseemly conversation in the meantime, the intercession of the lama rinpoche takes effect after two days and the patient gets well again. on the other hand, the recluse never makes any communication in writing." "we are now only a couple of paces from him. does he not hear what we are saying, or, at least, that some one is talking outside his den?" "no, the sound of our voices cannot reach him, the walls are too thick; and even if it were the case, he would not notice it, for he is buried in contemplation. he no longer belongs to this world; he probably crouches day and night in a corner, repeating prayers he knows by heart, or reading in the holy books he has with him." "then he must have enough light to read by?" "yes, a small butter lamp stands on a shelf before two images, and its light suffices him. when the lamp goes out it is pitch-dark inside." filled with strange thoughts, i took leave of the monk and went slowly down the path which the recluse had only passed along once in his life. before us was the splendid view which might never delight his eyes. when i had descended to the camp i could not look up the monastery valley without thinking of the unfortunate man sitting up there in his dark hole. poor, nameless, unknown to any one, he came to linga, where, he had heard, a cave-dwelling stood vacant, and informed the monks that he had taken the vow to enter for ever into darkness. when his last day in this world of vanity dawned, all the monks of linga followed him in deep silence, with the solemnity of a funeral, to his grave in the cave, and the door was closed on him for the rest of his life. i could picture to myself the remarkable procession, the monks in their red frocks, silent and grave, bending their bodies forward and turning their eyes to the ground, and walking slowly step by step as though they would let the victim enjoy the sun and light as long as possible. were they inspired with admiration of his tremendous fortitude, compared with which everything i can conceive, even dangers infallibly leading to death, seems to me insignificant? for, as far as i can judge, less fortitude is required when a hero, like hirosé, blockades the entrance of port arthur, knowing that the batteries above will annihilate him, than to allow oneself to be buried alive in the darkness for forty or sixty years. in the former case the suffering is short, the glory eternal; in the latter the victim is as unknown after death as in his lifetime, and the torture is endless, and can only be borne by a patience of which we can have no conception. no doubt the monks escorted him with the same tenderness and the same sympathy as the priest feels when he attends a criminal to execution. but what can have been his own feelings during this last progress in the world. we all have to pass along this road, but we do not know when. but he knew, and he knew that the sun would never again shine warmly on his shoulders and would never produce lights and shadows on the heaven-kissing mountains around the grave that awaited him. now they have reached their destination and the door of the tomb stands open. they enter in, spread a mat of interlaced strips of cloth in a corner, set up the images of the gods, and lay the holy books in their place; in one corner they place a wooden frame like those go-carts in which infants learn to walk, and which he will not use till death comes upon him. they take their seats and recite prayers, not the usual prayers for the dead, but others which deal with the glorified light and life of nirvana. they rise, bid him farewell, go out and close the door. now he is alone and will never hear the sound of a human voice except his own, and when he says his prayers no one will be there to hear him. what were his thoughts when the others had gone, and the short hollow echo had died away of the noise he heard when the door was shut for the last time, only to be opened again when he was a corpse? perhaps something like what fröding has expressed in his verse: here breaks the soul from every bond that fetters to this life its pinion; here starts the way to the dark beyond, the land of eternal oblivion. he hears the brethren rolling the heavy stones to the door with levers, piling them up one on another in several layers, and filling up all chinks with smaller stones and fragments. it is not yet quite dark, for there are crevices in the door, and daylight is still visible at the upper edge. but the wall rises. at length there is only a tiny opening through which the last beam falls into the interior of his tomb. does he become desperate; does he jump up, thrust his hands against the door and try to catch one more glimpse of the sun, which in another moment will vanish from his sight for ever? no one knows and no one will ever know; not even the monks who were present and helped to block up the entrance can answer this question. but he is but a man and he saw how a flagstone was fitted over the hole through which a last ray of daylight fell; and now he has darkness before him, and wherever he turns there is impenetrable darkness. he assumes that the other monks have gone down again to samde-puk and linga. how shall he pass the evening. he need not begin at once to read his holy books; there is plenty of time for that, perhaps forty years. he sits on the mat and leans his head against the wall. now all his reminiscences come with great distinctness into his mind. he remembers the gigantic characters in the quartzite, "om mani padme hum," and he murmurs half dreaming the holy syllables, "oh! thou jewel in the lotus. amen!" but only a feeble echo answers him. he waits and listens, and then hearkens to the voices of his memory. he wonders whether the first night is falling, but it cannot be darker than it is already in his prison, his grave. overcome by the travail of his soul, he sleeps, tired and weary, in his corner. when he awakes, he feels hungry, crawls to the opening and finds the bowl of _tsamba_ in the tunnel. with water from the spring he prepares his meal, eats it, and, when he has finished, puts the bowl in the loophole again. then he sits cross-legged, his rosary in his hands, and prays. one day he finds tea and butter in the bowl and some sticks beside it. he feels about with his hands and finds the flint, and steel, and the tinder, and kindles a small fire under the tea-can. by the light of the flame he sees the interior of his den again, lights the lamp before the images, and begins to read his books; but the fire goes out and six days must pass before he gets tea again. the days pass and now comes autumn with its heavy rains; he hears them not, but the walls of his den seem to be moister than usual. it seems to him a long time since he saw the sun and the daylight for the last time. and years slip by and his memory grows weak and hazy. he has read the books he brought with him again and again, and he cares no more for them; he crouches in his corner and murmurs their contents, which he has long known by heart. he lets the beads of his rosary slip through his fingers mechanically, and stretches out his hand for the _tsamba_ bowl unconsciously. he crawls along the walls feeling the cold stones with his hands, if haply he may find a chink through which a ray of light can pass. no, he hardly knows now what it is like outside on sunny paths. how slowly time passes! only in sleep does he forget his existence and escape from the hopelessness of the present. and he thinks: "what is a short earthly life in darkness compared to the glorious light of eternity?" the sojourn in darkness is only a preparation. through days and nights and long years of solitude the pondering monk seeks the answer to the riddle of life and the riddle of death, and clings to the belief that he will live again in a glorified form of existence when his period of trial is over. it is faith alone which can explain his inconceivable fortitude of mind. it is difficult to picture to oneself the changes through which the lama passes during successive decades in the darkness of his cell. his sight must become weak, perhaps be extinguished altogether. his muscles shrink, his senses become more and more clouded. longing for the light cannot pursue him as a fixed idea, for it is in his power to write down his decision to curtail his time of trial, and return to the light, on one of the leaves of his books with a splinter dipped in soot. he has only to place such a paper in the empty _tsamba_ bowl. but the monks had never known a case of the kind. they only knew that the lama who had been walled in for sixty-nine years had wished to see the sun again before he died. i had heard from monks who were in tong at the time that he had written down his wish to be let out. he was all bent up together and as small as a child, and his body was nothing but a light-grey parchment-like skin and bones. his eyes had lost their colour, were quite bright and blind. his hair hung round his head in uncombed matted locks and was pure white. his body was covered only by a rag, for time had eaten away his clothing and he had received no new garments. he had a thin unkempt beard, and had never washed himself all the time or cut his nails. of the monks who sixty-nine years before had conducted him to his cell, not one survived. he was then quite young himself, but all his contemporaries had been removed by death, and new generations of monks had passed through the cloisters; he was a complete stranger to them all. and he had scarcely been carried out into the sunlight when he too gave up the ghost. in analysing the state of such a soul, fancy has free play, for we know nothing about it. waddell and landon, who took part in younghusband's expedition to lhasa, and visited the hermits' caves at nyang-tö-ki-pu, say that the monks who have there retired into perpetual darkness first underwent shorter experiences of isolation, the first lasting six months, and the second three years and ninety-three days, and that those who had passed through the second period of trial showed signs that they were intellectually inferior to other monks. the cases which the two englishmen have described seem not to have been so severe a trial as the one i saw and heard about in linga, for in the nyang-tö-ki-pu caves the lama who waited on the recluse tapped on a stone slab which closed the small opening, and at this signal the immured lama put his hand out of this door for his food; he immediately drew the stone shutter to again, but in this way he would at least see the light of the sun for a moment every day. in the cases described by waddell and landon the immured monks had passed some twenty years in confinement. waddell, who has a thorough knowledge of lamaism, believes that the custom of seclusion for life is only an imitation of the practice of pure indian buddhism, which enjoins periodical retreats from the world for the purpose of self-examination and of acquiring greater clearness in abstruse questions. in his opinion the tibetans have made an end of the means. undoubtedly this opinion is correct, but it is not exhaustive. it may be that the future hermit has in religious delusion come to the decision to allow himself to be buried alive. but does he clearly conceive what this means? if he became dull and insensible like an animal in his cell, all his energy and his power of will would be deadened, and what seemed to him, when he entered, to be worth striving for, would gradually become more and more indifferent to him. but this is not the case, for he adheres firmly to his decision, and therefore his energy must remain unimpaired. he must possess a steadfast faith, an immovable conviction, which is exposed to a harder trial because he is alone and death alone can visit him in his cave. possibly he becomes by degrees a victim of self-delusion, so that his longing for the last hour in the long night of his den gives place to the feeling that he is always at the moment when the hour-glass of time has run down. he must have lost all idea of time, and the darkness of the grave appears to him only as a second in eternity. for the means he formerly had of marking the flight of time and impressing it on his memory no longer exist. the changes from winter to summer, from day to night, are only made known to him by the rise or fall of the temperature in his den. he remembers that several rainy seasons have passed by, and perhaps they seem to him to follow closely on one another while his brain is clouded by monotony. it is inconceivable that he does not become insane, that he does not call out for the light, that he does not jump up and run his head against the wall in the agony of despair, or beat it against the sharp edges of the stones till he bleeds to death and frees himself by committing suicide. but he waits patiently for death, and death may delay its coming for ten or twenty years. his remembrance of the world and life outside his cell becomes fainter and fainter; he has long forgotten the dawn in the east and the golden clouds of sunset; and when he looks up his dimmed eyes perceive no stars twinkling in the night, only the black ceiling of his cave. at last, however, after long years have passed in the darkness, suddenly a great brilliancy flashes out--that is, when death comes, takes him by the hand, and leads him out. and death has not to wait, entreat, and coax, for the lama has waited and longed for his welcome and only guest and deliverer. if he has had his mind still clear, he has taken the little wooden stand under his arms so that he may die in the same sacred position in which buddha is represented in all the thousands of statues and pictures which have come under our notice in our wanderings through the cloister temples of tibet. when the _tsamba_ bowl, which has been filled daily for so many long years, remains at last untouched and the six days have expired, the cave is opened and the abbot of the monastery sits down beside the deceased and prays for him, while all the other monks pray in the _dukang_ hall for five or six days together. then the body is wrapped in a white garment, a covering called _ringa_ is placed on his head, and he is burned on a pyre. the ashes are collected, kneaded together with clay, and moulded into a small pyramid, which is deposited in a _chhorten_. the linga monks said that an ordinary lama, when he dies, is cut in pieces and abandoned to the birds. this process is performed here by five lamas, who, though they belong to the monastery, attend the service in the _dukang_, and drink tea with the other monks, are still considered unclean, and may not eat with the other brethren. also when nomads die in the neighbourhood, their services are required, but then the relatives are bound to provide them with horses and to undertake that the property of the deceased shall pass into the possession of the monastery. for days and weeks i could not drive away the picture i had formed in my mind of the lama rinpoche, before whose cell we had stood and talked. and still less could i forget his predecessor, who had lived there forty years. i fancied i could hear the conch which summoned the monks to the funeral mass of the departed. i pictured to myself the scene in the cave where the lama, crouching in rags on the floor, stretches out his withered hands to death, who, kindly smiling like the skull masks in the temples, gives him one hand while he holds a brightly burning lamp in the other. the features of the monk are transfigured in a reflexion of nirvana, and forgetting the "om mani padme hum" that for tens of years has reverberated from the walls of his den, he raises, as the trumpet blasts sound out from the temple roof, a song of victory, which calls to mind the following strophe from the myths of another people (_frithiof's saga_, blackley's translation): hail, ye deities bright! ye valhalla sons! earth fadeth away; to the heavenly feast glad trumpets invite me, and blessedness crowns, as fair, as with gold helm, your hastening guest. chapter xxxvi over the chang-la-pod-la we had stayed three days near the monastery linga, when we went on north-westwards on april up the narrow my-chu valley, in which the volume of water was now considerably diminished. space does not permit me to describe in detail this wonderful road and its wild beauty. from the expansion of the valley at linga routes run eastwards and westwards into the mountains, with branches to numerous villages, of which i noted down the names and approximate positions. the traffic is now much less, but still numerous _manis_ and other religious symbols stand beside the solitary path. we ride along the steep slopes of the right bank; below us the river forms rapids, and the way is dangerous, especially with a horse that is not sure on its feet. robert's small bay filly stumbled and fell, so that the rider was thrown headlong to the ground. had he rolled down the slope he would have been lost; but fortunately he fell towards the mountain. we encamped in the village langmar, consisting of a few scattered houses, at the entrance of the small side valley langmar-pu. [illustration: . hermit's grotto near the chang-la-pod-la.] we still have hired horses, and now yaks also, and the caravan is divided into the same detachments as before. sonam tsering and guffaru command their sections. tsering's party sets out last and is the last to come to rest, and muhamed isa supervises the whole. in the evening he is massaged by two men selected for the purpose, of whom rehim ali is one. there is still _chang_, the harmless, but still intoxicating, beer. among the singers at the camp-fires, tsering, as usual, deserves the first prize. he gives me no end of amusement; he sings like a cow, or at best like a burst temple drum. his voice cracks continually, and he loses the time and the melody without being the least put out. but he considers his singing very fine, and the others take pleasure in it; one can tell from a distance that the tears are coming into his eyes. sometimes he pauses to explain the subject of the ballad and take a drink, and then he goes on again. when all the others are asleep, and all is so quiet in the camp that the rushing of the stream is audible and from time to time the bark of a dog, tsering's rough voice trilling harshly still resounds among the mountains. next day we draw near to the main crest of the trans-himalaya, for to my great surprise and delight we have been conducted in this direction. granite still predominates, and in it erosion has excavated the wild forms of the valleys; the way is tolerably good, but very stony; small strips of ice lie along both banks of the stream, within which the bright green water fills the valley with the roar of its impetuosity. the dark green of a kind of juniper called _pama_ is a relief to the eyes, which otherwise perceive nothing but grey slopes of detritus. the river here is named langmar-tsangpo, but it is really only the upper course of the my-chu. it is formed by the ke-tsangpo coming from the north and the govo-tsangpo from the west. the former, called in its upper course ogorung-tsangpo, descends from the main watershed of the trans-himalaya, and must therefore be considered the main stream. i was told that its source may be reached in a day and a half from the junction of the valleys. on the left bank of the govo a thicket of _pama_ shrubs grows, and a safe bridge of three arches spans the river. over this bridge runs the important trade route to tok-jalung which i have mentioned above. herds of yaks and flocks of sheep graze on the slopes, and circular penfolds remind us of our life in the chang-tang. a little farther up we cross the govo, which is half frozen over; springs and brooks from the side valleys adorn the scene with cascades of ice. the river is said to be here so swollen in summer that it cannot be crossed at any point. to the north and south snowy mountains are visible. in the village of govo, consisting of seven stone houses, barley is cultivated and yields a moderate crop; but the inhabitants are not dependent on the harvest, for they also possess sheep, goats, and yaks, with which they migrate northwards in summer. govo is the last village where agriculture is pursued, so we here find ourselves on the boundary between tillage and grazing, and also between stone houses and black tents (illust. ). we have, then, still time to look into an ordinary tibetan stone hut belonging to a family in comfortable circumstances. the walls are built of untrimmed bare stones, but the crevices are stopped with earth to keep out the wind. through a labyrinth of walls and over round stones where the tripping foot seldom touches the ground we come to two yards where goats and calves are kept. in a third is a loom, at which a half-naked coppery-brown woman is working, and in a fourth sits an old man engaged in cutting up _pama_ shrubs. from this yard we entered a half-dark room, with a floor of mud, and two openings in the roof, through which the smoke escapes and the daylight enters. the roof consists of beams overlaid with a thatch of brushwood, which is covered all over with soil and flat stones--it must be nice and dry when it rains. there sat an elderly woman telling off her _manis_ on a rosary of porcelain beads. the next room is the kitchen, the general living-room and the principal apartment of the house. at a projecting wall stands the stone cooking-range with round black-edged holes for saucepans and teapots of baked clay. a large earthen pot, standing on the fire, contains barley, which is eaten parched; a stick with a stiff piece of leather at the end is twirled round in the barley between the palms so that it may be roasted equally. it tastes delicious. i went about, turned over all the household utensils and made an inventory, and not in swedish only, but also in tibetan. there were many different vessels of iron, clay, and wood for all kinds of purposes, a large wooden ladle, a tea sieve of sheet-iron, an iron spoon, an ash shovel, iron fire-tongs, and a thing called a _thagma_, an iron blade fitted into a piece of wood, something like a closed pocket-knife, and used to dress newly woven material. a large clay jug was filled with _chang_. a small cubical vessel divided into four by small cross pieces of wood is used to measure corn. brick-tea is pulverized with a stone shaped like a cucumber in a deep wooden cup. a knife-blade with a haft at either end is used in preparing and tawing hides. under one of the smoke vents stood a small hearth for an open fire with an iron tripod. a large leathern sack was filled with _tsamba_, and two sheep's stomachs held fat and butter. on a rack a quantity of sheep's trotters, dusty and dirty, were arranged; when they are several months old they are used to make soup, which is thickened with _tsamba_. tea, salt, and tobacco are kept in large and small bags. we saw likewise all kinds of religious objects, votive bowls, joss-sticks, and small image cases; also bales of home-woven textiles, coloured ribands for sewing on skin coats and boots, knives, hatchets, sabres and spears, which, we were told, are for fighting thieves and robbers; a pair of bellows, two sacks of dry dung for fuel, baskets, hand-mills for grinding barley, consisting of two round flat stones with a handle on the upper one; lastly, an oil-lamp and an oil-can, and a cylindrical tub with iron hoops full of water. in a corner lay heaps of skins and garments, and against the wall were two sleeping-places still in disorder. in another store-room there were provisions in sacks, barley, green fodder, peas, and great joints of meat. here three young women and a troop of children had taken refuge; we left them room to escape, and they ran away screaming loudly as if all the knives in the house were at their throats. in the room were balances for weighing, consisting of a rounded staff with a stone weight at one end and a dried yak hide at the other. behind a partition straw was kept. there are high inconvenient thresholds between the rooms, and the usual bundles of rods on the roof to protect the house from evil spirits. after this expedition we inspected the tents of our escort, where a fire was burning in a broken clay pot, and a skillet stood over it on a tripod. the smoke escapes through the long slit between the two halves of which the tent is composed. the owners of the tent were writing their report to the authorities in shigatse, informing them that we were on the right road. at the same time they were eating their dinner of mutton, a year old, dry and hard; it must not come near the fire. one of them cut it into strips and distributed it among his comrades. he had been for twenty years a lama in the monastery lung-ganden in tong, but a few years before had been ejected from the confraternity because he had fallen in love with a woman. he spoke of it himself, so it was doubtless true. robert's bay horse was reported dead on the morning of april . his late tumble now seemed to us like an omen; though fat and sleek, he died suddenly about midnight. we now ride on again towards higher regions over uncomfortable blocks of stone, but the valley becomes more open and the relative heights diminish. though the little that is left of the stream still swirls and foams, the ice becomes thicker, and at last covers almost all the bed, and the water is heard rushing and murmuring under it. juicy moss skirts the banks, the view becomes more extensive, and the whole character of the landscape becomes alpine. we saw ten men with guns in a sheepfold, carrying gun-rests with yellow and red pennants on one of the prongs; perhaps they were highway robbers. dark clouds sweep over the ridges, and in a minute we are in the midst of icy-cold drifting snow, but it does not last long. the last bit of road was awful, nothing but boulders and débris, which we could sometimes avoid by riding over the ice of the river. the camping-ground was called chomo-sumdo, a valley fork in a desolate region, but the escort had seen that some straw and barley were brought up on yaks for our horses. from here we had to ride on the ice, smooth and firm after degrees of frost in the night. the neighbourhood is not, however, uninhabited, for yaks and sheep were seen grazing in many places, belonging to nomads migrating northwards or merchants coming from tok-jalung. at two black tents the people were packing up for the day's march; they had goats, with strips of red cloth bound round the ears. a little farther up is a precipitous rock on the right side of the valley, and two caves open their black mouths in the wall. the lower one (illust. ) is the entrance to a passage leading to the upper, where a famous hermit has fixed his solitary abode. the upper opening has a partly natural balcony decorated with streamer-poles and ribands. below the lower stand _mani_ cairns, long garlands of string with coloured prayer-strips, a prayer-mast, and a metal idol in a niche of the rock. we tethered our horses at the edge of the ice and went up to the lower grotto. here two young nuns from kirong (on the border of nepal) met us, and two mendicant monks from nepal, one of whom spoke hindustani, so that robert could converse with him. the nuns were pretty, well-grown, sun-burnt, and somewhat like gypsies; their large black eyes had the shimmer of velvet, and their black hair was parted on the forehead and fell in luxuriant waves over their shoulders; they were clothed in red rags and wore tibetan boots adorned with red ribands. they spoke cheerfully and pleasantly in strikingly soft, extremely sympathetic voices, and were not in the least timid. their simple dwelling, which we saw, was in the great entrance of the grotto, under a smoke-blackened vault, surrounded by a small wall and a palisade of _pama_ branches, and partly hung with cloth. a sleeping-place was made of rugs of interwoven strips of cloth, and a tea-kettle was boiling on the fire. one of the men had a thick pigtail and a red lama frock; the other wore a sheepskin, and had not had his hair cut in the present, twentieth, century. the dwelling proper was situated in a higher part of the cavern. all four had come in autumn, and were waiting for the warmer season to proceed to lhasa, and return thence home again. in the meantime they voluntarily waited on the two holy hermits sojourning in this mountain, and thereby earned their living and gained merit, according to the ideas of their order. when they go off again on their wanderings, other serving brethren and sisters will be found ready to take their place. a winding staircase on the left, partly natural and partly constructed of flagstones, leads to the upper regions of the cavern. at first it is dark, but becomes lighter as we approach a loophole in the rock. here and there are streamer-poles, and the holy syllables are incised. from the loophole the staircase turns steeply to the right; if we slipped on the smooth stone we should tumble down right into the nuns' kitchen, which from here looks like the bottom of a well. the passage ends at a point where a small stone staircase goes up to a trap-door covered with a slab. pushing aside the slab, one reaches the larger grotto chamber of which we had seen the opening from the valley. but the serving brothers and sisters would not take us so high. in this upper grotto, choma-taka, the -years-old hermit, gunsang ngurbu, of high repute in all the country for his holiness, has dwelt for seven years. gunsang means hermit, and ngurbu is a very common name signifying precious stone. every seventh day his attendants place _tsamba_, water, tea, and fuel on the steps under the trap-door, and these things are taken in by the old man, who may not speak with men, but only with the gods. through a hole under the slab i caught sight of a _chhorten_ constructed of stones and mud, and some painted pictures of gods on the wall of the grotto. behind the _chhorten_, and unfortunately out of sight, the old man sat in a niche in the wall, crouching down and saying his prayers; now and then he blows a shell horn. [illustration: . robert and rabsang by the ice on the way to the chang-la-pod-la.] [illustration: . a lhadse decked with mani-stones and prayer-streamers. (n.w. of the kore-la.)] i wished to push aside the shutter and mount into the upper grotto, but the consciences of my companions would not permit such a thing for all the money in the world. it would disturb the old man in his meditations, and interrupt the period of his seclusion, and, moreover, the old man would throw stones at us. the life of the hermit ngurbu must be idyllic compared to that of the immured linga monks, for he sees the valley, the sun, the whirling snow, and the stars sparkling in the sky; but he must suffer from ennui. in another grotto, side by side with ngurbu's, lives another hermit, but the two have never met and know nothing of one another. they may eat no meat, only _tsamba_ and tea, and they receive these from the neighbouring nomads and the travellers passing along the road. after this digression we cross the ice of the river again and pass up over the ever-present detritus. before us is the flattish saddle of the chang-la-pod-la. we accomplish the ascent with great effort, the icy wind blowing right in our faces. i cannot commence my observations at the cairn till i have warmed my hands over a dung fire. the view is limited, flat, and of little use for orientation. however, towards the way we have come, we can see the deeply eroded valleys, and we seem to be higher than the ridges enclosing them. the height is , feet. chang signifies north, north country; pod or pö, tibet, _i.e._ tibet proper, chiefly inhabited by a settled population. chang-la-pod-la is, then, the pass between the northern tableland of the nomads and the country to the south having drainage to the sea. it is this property of a boundary between these two regions which renders the trans-himalaya of such prime importance, and therefore there are many passes called chang-la-pod-la. often and often i was told that a pass, whatever might be its especial name, was a chang-la-pod-la when it lay on the watershed between the inland drainage of the north and the river basin of the tsangpo in the south. i had then crossed the trans-himalaya a second time by a pass lying miles to the west of the sela-la, and had been able to ascertain that the huge range of the nien-chen-tang-la extends thus far. it was still more my earnest desire to follow it step by step to the west. after we had encamped on the pass, where the thermometer fell at night to - ½°, we rode on april slowly down the valley of the shak-chu river, which gradually becomes broader, and is begirt by flat rounded mountains, in which rock _in situ_ seldom occurs. we have passed from the maze of mountains intersected by the affluents of the my-chu, abundantly fed by the rains, on to the wide plains of the plateau country, and notice again that the trans-himalaya is also an extraordinarily important climatological boundary. the lapsen-tari is a heap of clods with a sheaf of rods stuck in the middle, from which streamer strings are carried to other rods. from this point there is a fine view over the plateau and its wreath of mountains. to the north, ° west, we see the targo-gangri again, but more majestic, more isolated, and more dominant than from the ngangtse-tso, where, shrouded in clouds and surrounded by other mountains, it was less conspicuous. just at the mound we passed the last corner which obscured the view, and suddenly the whole grand mountain appeared in its dazzling whiteness, shining like a lighthouse over the sea of the plateau, in a mantle of firn fields and blue glistening ice, and rising bold and sharply against the sky of purest azure blue. the mound is therefore placed where the traveller coming from shigatse first comes in sight of the holy mountain. our guides bared their heads and murmured prayers. two pilgrims, whom we had seen at the grotto of the hermits, lighted a fire and threw into it a scented powder, an offering of incense to the gods of targo-gangri. south and south-west runs a lofty range, of uniform height, with patches of snow glittering in the sun on its brownish-purple summit--another part of the trans-himalaya. as we sat here a trading caravan came along the road to penla-buk, which lies on the west side of the dangra-yum-tso, and is a rendezvous for gold-prospectors and wool-dealers. our tents formed a little village on the kyangdam plain, where wild asses abound, and some sixty nomads of the neighbourhood encamped around it. in the evening the escort from ghe presented themselves to inform me that as we were now in the largep district, subject to the labrang, they would return home and consign us to a new guard. the latter consisted of five men far advanced in life. their leader was a small grey-headed man with trembling hands and very indistinct enunciation. when the ghe men, who longed to return to their warmer villages, had gone off next morning in spite of a violent storm, i had a serious talk with the new men. they intended to lead us over the pass sha-la (trans-himalaya) in the south-west, where the targo-tsangpo rises, on the banks of which we had passed the day. according to nain sing's map this river flows round the east side of targo-gangri, and then enters the dangra-tso, as the holy lake is called here. but nain sing was never there, and i wished to gain an insight into the geography of the country. so we came to an agreement that we should travel north-westwards; and i pointed out to the men that raga-tasam was put down in our passport as the next place; that two roads led thither, one over the sha-la, the other deviating northwards to the targo-gangri, and that i had chosen the latter. the passport prohibited us from visiting lhasa, gyangtse, and the monastery sekiya-gompa, but contained not a single word about the road to the dangra-yum-tso. they ought then to comply with my wishes. the old man hesitated, pondered awhile, and summoned his followers to a council. his tent was soon full of black, bare-headed men in grey sheepskins. then the consultation was adjourned to muhamed isa's tent. after some consideration they agreed to my proposals, on the condition that i should pay them a whole _tenga_ per day for each yak instead of half a _tenga_. i rejoiced at the hope of seeing the holy mountain coming closer and closer, and its finer details becoming more conspicuous, of beholding it in cloud and sunshine, disappearing behind the hills and peeping out again like a man-of-war in a rough sea with high white waves round the bow, or, more correctly, like a ship under full sail on the sea of the plateau. of course i exposed myself to annoyances by ignoring the passport, but geographical discoveries were concerned and all considerations must be set aside. on vega day, april , we had a strong wind in our faces, it was cold, and targo-gangri partly disappeared behind the clouds. escorted by the old gentleman and four horsemen who were as much alike as if they had been cast in the same mould, and who had all matchlocks on their backs, i rode along the bank of the targo-tsangpo in the contracting valley which slopes with an extremely gentle gradient, imperceptible to the eye, to the lake. at last the valley becomes so narrow that the ice fills all its bottom. the road therefore leaves the river on the left, and passes over flat hills, among which we cross a succession of small affluents. black tents, tame yaks grazing, stone folds for sheep, wild asses, and millions of field mice recall to mind the chang-tang. the wild yak, however, does not occur in this country. the feathered kingdom is represented by ravens, wild ducks, and occasionally a small bird. when we came to the bumnak-chu, a right-hand tributary of the targo-tsangpo, a large number of men came to meet us, saluting with the tongue, and gazing at us cheerfully and good-temperedly with their long black unkempt hair, their small grey skins, and their torn boots. on april we rode over the ting-la pass; at its foot is a _mani_ in good preservation, with a yak skull as ornament, a form of prayer being incised in the frontal bone between the horns. from the top of the pass targo-gangri is seen expanded into a row of peaks covered with snow. the whole region is like a sea with a strong swell on, and the targo-gangri is as white foaming surf on the coast. a little later the summits of the mass stood clearly out white on a background of bluish-black clouds; the highest two, twin peaks, had the form of a tibetan tent on two poles. our camp in the kokbo valley contained not fewer than eleven tents, for now we had about forty companions of all ages, and at least a hundred yaks. the loads were transferred to other yaks on the march to spare the animals. when the caravan moves over the rounded hills it is like a nomad tribe on the march. most of our tibetans ride yaks or horses. we had made a short march, and plenty of time was left for me to go about, make a visit to each tent, and see how the men were getting on. they were all drinking tea and eating _tsamba_, their greatest pleasure in life. the dung fire burns in the middle, and the form of the tent certainly is the cause of the draught which prevents smoke from collecting inside. round about stand kettles, teapots, and wooden cups. a huge quantity of provisions lies at the sides. saddles and harness are deposited in a row before the tent. when i enter, all rise, but i beg them to sit down again and go on eating, while i take a seat on a barley sack at the door of the tent. all have the right arm bare, and many both arms; when they let their sheepskins fall down their backs the whole body is naked down to the waist. they are copper-brown and covered with a layer of dirt, but well-grown, powerful, manly, and in good proportion. the cook of the tent community pours out tea for all, and then each one brings out his own bag and takes out a pinch of _tsamba_ to sprinkle into his tea. they eat meat either raw or boiled in a pot. they are all quiet and orderly, no angry words are heard, no quarrelling and shouting, they are all the best of friends, and make themselves comfortable after their day's march, talking and laughing together. their wigs are dust-traps and make them look like indians. most of them wear a pigtail, consisting mostly of plaited threads with white bone rings and small silver image boxes which have a couple of turquoises inlaid in the lid. some have the pigtail wound round the head, forming a singular crown, the diadem of the wilderness. in another tent the dinner was finished and the "covers" were empty. there a man sat with an awl, cobbling a torn boot; another sewed the girths of his saddle on firmly; and a third lay on his back, with legs crossed and an arm supporting his head, and took his after-dinner nap. seen from above he makes a very absurd figure with his huge nostrils, into which mice might easily walk in mistake for their holes. a smirking youth is smoking his pipe, while his neighbour busily and carefully searches for suspected lodgers in his sheepskin. i drew several of them without exciting the least uneasiness; on the contrary, they made a joke of the sitting, and laughed heartily when they saw their counterfeits, which they embellished with prints of their buttery fingers on the margin. they asked me why i drew them, and for what purpose i wished to know their names and ages. they were all sympathetic, polite, and friendly, and i enjoyed their society (illusts. , ). a begging lama, too, looked in; he was on the way to kailas, and was quickly sketched, to the intense amusement of the other men. he bore a lance with a black tassel and red strips, a timbrel, an antelope horn to protect himself against snappy dogs, and a trombone of human bone, which he set in a corner of his mouth when he blew it. it caused him much amusement to be the object of universal attention, and he took advantage of it to make acquaintance with the nomads with a view to an appeal to their liberality (illust. ). [illustration: , . nomads south of targo-gangri.] [illustration: . mendicant lama blowing on a human bone.] [illustration: . tibetan boy. sketches by the author.] chapter xxxvii targo-gangri and the shuru-tso hitherto we had experienced no difficulties, but at kokbo the state of affairs seemed disquieting. our old man informed me that he had sent a message to the nomads at the targo-gangri mountain, asking them to hold yaks in readiness. they had answered that they could not think of serving a european without express orders, and that they would resort to force if our present guards led us to the lake. the old man, however, was not put out, but believed that he could soon bring them to their senses. on april we march north-westwards in a sharp wind over the pass tarbung-la. the sacred mountain exhibits all the beauty of its sixteen peaks, and north, ° west, is seen the gap where we expect to find the dangra-yum-tso. the view is of immense extent. the valley widens out and passes into that of the targo-tsangpo. four antelopes spring lightly over the slopes; black tents are not to be seen. when we again reach more open ground, one of the most magnificent views i have seen in this part of tibet opens out to the west-south-west, a gigantic range of uniform height, with snow-covered pinnacles and short glaciers between, which is scarcely inferior to targo-gangri in imposing beauty and massiveness. the chain is bluish black below the snowy points; at its foot lies a lake unknown to us, the shuru-tso. the journey to the ngangtse-tso north-north-east by the way of the shangbuk-la pass is reckoned as only three days' march. on the eastern flank of targo-gangri five glaciers are deeply embedded, while to the east of the mountain the flat open valley of the targo-tsangpo comes into sight, which we gradually approach, passing over five clearly defined terraces, relics of a time when the dangra-yum-tso was much larger than now. two wolves make off in front of us, and the old man gallops after them, but turns back when they stop as if to wait for him. "if i had had a knife or a gun," he says, "i would have killed them both." at length we descend to the valley of the targo-tsangpo down a bold terrace with two ledges, and here the river is divided into several arms, and wild ducks and geese swarm. brushwood grows on the banks. on the right bank lies our camp, no. , not far from the foot of the majestic targo-gangri (illust. ). thus far we were to come, but no farther. here a troop of twenty horsemen armed to the teeth awaited us, who had been sent by the governor of naktsang from shansa-dzong, with orders to stop us "in case we should attempt to advance to the holy lake." this time they had kept a sharper watch, and had anticipated that i would take all kinds of liberties. they had left shansa-dzong fifteen days before, and had been camping here three days, awaiting our arrival. if we had hurried we should have been before them again. one of the two leaders was the same lundup tsering who, as he told me himself, had stopped dutreuil de rhins and grenard, and had been in january with hlaje tsering at the ngangste-tso. he informed me that hlaje tsering was still in office, but had had much trouble because of us, and had been obliged to pay a fine of sixty _yambaus_ (about £ ) to the devashung. when i remarked that hlaje tsering had told me himself that he was so poor that he had nothing left to lose, lundup answered that he had extorted the money from his subordinates. all, too, who had sold us yaks and served us as guides had been heavily fined. the next european who attempted to get through without a passport would have no end of difficulties to contend with (illust. ). [illustration: . kubi-gangri from camp . s. ° e., ngomo-dingding ( ), with the ngomo-dingding glacier below. s. ° w., absi ( ), with the absi glacier, s. °- ° w., the massive of mukchung-simo ( ).] [illustration: . targo-gangri from a hill near camp . n. ° w., sershik-gompa ( ). n. °- ° w., the dangra-yum-tso ( ) in the distance.] [illustration: . the chomo-uchong group from the kinchen-la, may , (cf. illustration ). sketches by the author.] lundup pointed to a red granite promontory, yards north of our camp, and said: "there is the boundary between the labrang (tashi-lunpo) and naktsang (lhasa). so far we can let you go, but not a step farther; if you attempt it, we have orders to fire on you." they read the passport from shigatse, and affirmed that the words therein, "on the direct way to ladak," did not mean that we had permission to make all sorts of detours, and, above all, we might not go to the dangra-yum-tso, which is holy and is in the territory of lhasa. gaw daloi had given orders that he should be informed daily which way we were travelling. if they did not obey this order they would lose their heads. it was evident, then, that i should have to give up the dangra-yum-tso for the third time, and just when i was only two short days' march from it. the outline of the mountain stood out sharp and white in the moonshine against the blue-black starry sky. the next day there was a storm, and not even the foot of targo-gangri was visible, much less the icy-cold heights where the winds sing their heavenly choruses among the firn fields. in the evening, however, when the weather had cleared, the whole mass stood clearly out, covered with freshly fallen snow. again we held a long palaver with the horsemen from naktsang. i told them that i would not leave this camp till i had at least seen the lake from a distance. to my delight they replied that though they were obliged, much against their inclination, to cause me the disappointment of not visiting the lake, they would not prevent me from seeing it from a distance, but that they would keep a good watch lest i should ride off behind yonder red mountain to the north. they had scarcely gone when our old kyangdam guide came to complain that the horsemen from naktsang had threatened his life because he had brought me here. i sent for the naktsang men again and impressed on them strongly that they had no cause of complaint against my escort, for it was entirely my fault that we were here. they promised that they would not again treat the kyangdam men harshly, as they had most fortunately caught me just at the right moment. the kyangdam men could not thank me enough for restoring peace, and their joy was still greater when i presented the whole party with money to supplement their scanty store of provisions. they gave vent to their delight by performing games, dances, and wrestling bouts in front of my tent, and their happy laughter and shouts were echoed till late in the night from the mountains. then came twelve more soldiers from naktsang with fresh orders that we were under no circumstances to be allowed to proceed farther northwards. but all were friendly and polite; we joked and laughed together, and were the best of friends. it is singular that they never lose their patience, though i am always causing them worry, perplexity, and troublesome journeys. the chief of largep was more unyielding than our old friends the naktsang gentlemen. he would not let me climb the red mountain, but insisted that we should leave the district next day and travel straight to raga-tasam. however, i snubbed him, demanding how he, a small chieftain in the mountains, could dare to speak so peremptorily. even the chinese in lhasa, i said, had treated us pleasantly and had left us the fullest freedom. i would not leave the spot until i had seen the lake. i threatened to tear the shigatse passport in pieces, and send off at once a courier to tang darin and lien darin, and wait for their answer at the foot of targo-gangri. then the chief became embarrassed, got up in silence, and went away with the others. but they were with me again in the evening, and with a humble smile they said that i might ride up the red mountain if i would promise not to go to the shore of the lake. a thin veil of mist lay over the country all day long. but when the sun set, the western sky glowed with purple flames, and the cold glaciers and snowfields were thrown up by a background of fire. [illustration: . lundup's squadron. to the left a part of targo-gangri. camp .] at last, on april , we take to the road and ride up the affluent chuma, flowing down from the right and called in its upper course nagma-tsangpo. we climb higher and higher up regularly curved lake terraces; the view widens out the nearer we approach the summit, where the ladakis are waiting for us with a fire. the southern basin of the dangra-yum-tso was clearly visible as a bluish sabre-blade, and the valley of the targo-tsangpo widens out like a trumpet to the broad plain beside the shore. it was the easier to trace the course of the river to the neighbourhood of the lake because it was marked all along by white glistening ice flakes and dark spots where bushes grow. at the end of july the river is said to rise so high that it cannot be crossed. so when letters have to be delivered to nomads on the eastern foot of the mountain they are weighted with a stone and thrown across a narrow part of the stream. the water of the lake is said to be as salt as that of the ngangtse-tso, and is not fit for drinking; but nevertheless pilgrims drink it, because it is holy. at this time the winter ice was breaking up, and long sheets of ice lay only at the shore. in contrast to most other lakes of tibet, the dangra-yum-tso runs north and south, and it narrows in the middle, just as nain sing has drawn it on his map; but he has made the lake a little too large, and has especially exaggerated the dimensions of the southern basin. a horseman can travel round the lake in five ordinary or seven short days' journey; the pilgrim road closely follows the lake shore. the pilgrims always make the circuit of the lake in the direction of the hands of a watch, if they are orthodox; but if they belong to the pembo sect, like the monks of the sershik-gompa, they begin their march in the opposite direction. most of them come in late summer or autumn. i was told that the pilgrimage round the lake, which of course must be made on foot, was in honour of padma sambhava, the saint who came to tibet in the year , became the founder of lamaism, and enjoys almost as great a reputation as buddha himself. he is called in tibet lopön rinpoche, and his image is generally found in the temples. sershik-gompa, of which we had frequently heard, and which nain sing names sasik gombas on his map, stands on an even slope at the eastern foot of the mountain. the monastery is under the devashung, and has twenty pembo brethren and an abbot named tibha. some of the monks are said to be well off, but on the whole the convent is not rich; it is supported by nomads in naktsang, largep, and sershik. the monastery is constructed chiefly of stone, but it also contains timber transported hither from the shang valley. there is a _dukang_ and a number of small images of gods. the targo-gangri massive can also be travelled round, and only one pass has to be crossed, namely the barong-la (or parung), which lies between targo-gangri and the mighty range on the west of the shuru-tso. the short, lofty, meridional range which is called targo-gangri, and is rather to be considered an isolated massive, ends in the north not far from the lake, the flanks of the last peak descending gently to its flat plain. nain sing calls the massive targot-la snowy peaks, and the district to the south of the mountain tárgot lhágeb (largep). the river is marked targot sangpo on his map. his siru cho to the east of the lake is known to no one here, and his mun cho lakes marked to the south of it actually lie to the west of the lake. his representation of the mountains to the south of the lake is confused and fanciful. some nomads named the holy mountain chang-targo-ri. on the way back i took levels, assisted by robert, and found that the highest recognizable terrace lay feet above the level of the river. the targo-tsangpo is here certainly not more than ½ feet higher than the surface of the lake. as the dangra-yum-tso is surrounded, particularly on the south, by rather low, flat land, the lake must formerly have been of very large extent. at that time the targo-gangri skirted the western shore as a peninsula. in the night there was a noise like an avalanche falling; it became feebler and died away. the horses and yaks of the tibetans, frightened by something or other, had stormed the detritus slope of the terrace. half an hour later i heard whistling and shouting; the men were coming back with the runaways. [illustration: . lundup (on horseback to the left) and his retinue prevent me from proceeding to the dangra-yum-tso. targo-gangri and the river targo-tsangpo in the background.] before we took leave of our troublesome friends they were photographed on horseback (illust. ). they all wore roomy, dark cerise-coloured mantles, and, unlike the bare-headed largep men, a bandage round the head, in many cases drawn through silver rings like bangles. one had a tall white hat like a truncated cone, with a flat brim, a head-covering i remembered seeing in nakchu. their guns, with the military pennants on the forks, they had slung over their shoulders, and their sabres stuck out horizontally from their girdles in silver-bound scabbards decorated with three pieces of imitation coral. over the left shoulder some carried a whole bandolier of _gao_ cases with glass fronts, through which were visible the little innocent gods which bring their wearers good fortune on their journey. their fat little horses stamped and snorted, longing for their old well-known pastures on the shores of the kyaring-tso. they also were decked with needlessly heavy but dainty ornaments. the white horses with red riders on their backs made a particularly striking picture. it was a varied scene in the blazing sunshine, with the snowy summits of targo-gangri as a background and nain sing's lake to the north. i begged them to greet hlaje tsering heartily from me, and tell him that i hoped to see him again. and then they struck their heels into their horses, drew together into close order, and trotted gaily up to the level surfaces of the river terraces. captivated by the appearance of the departing troop i ran after it, and watched the dark column grow smaller at the red spur, where the old shore lines seemed to run together. singular people! they rise like goblins from the depths of their valleys, they come one knows not whence, they, like us, visit for a few short days the foot of the snowy mountain, and then they vanish again like a whirlwind in the dust of the horses' hoofs and beyond the mysterious horizon. we, too, set out, and i left the dangra-yum-tso to its fate, the dark-blue waters to the blustering storm and the song of the rising waves, and the eternal snowfields to the whisper of the winds. may the changing colours of the seasons, the beauty of atmospheric effects of light and shade, gold, purple, and grey, pass over padma sambhava's lake amidst rain and sunshine, as already for untold thousands of years, and the steps of believing, yearning pilgrims draw a chain around its shores. accompanied by robert and our aged guide, i rode across the river, which carries about cubic feet of water, and up to a spur of targo-gangri in order to procure a rock specimen. one glacier tongue after another of the long series on the east side of the mountain passes out of sight, and now the gap disappears through which we had seen a corner of the lake, and far away to the north on its other side the outlines of light-blue mountains. six hundred sheep were grazing on a slope without shepherds. now and then a hare was started in the thick tufts of steppe grass. from the screes on our right was heard the pleasant chirp of partridges. when we were far away two shepherds came up out of a gorge and drove the sheep down to the river. at the lower end of the moraine of a glacier stood a solitary tent. i asked our old man what the spot was called, but he swore by three different gods that he had no notion. the most southern outskirt of targo-gangri hid the rest of the range, but before we reached camp no. it appeared again foreshortened. this camp stood on the left bank of the river. [illustration: , , . targo-gangri from the south.] may . spring is come; we have, indeed, had as much as degrees of frost during the preceding nights, but the days are fine and clear, and it is never as trying as in the chang-tang, even riding against the wind. at camp no. we had been at a height of , feet; now we go slowly down, following the river at first, but leaving it on the left when we see it emerge from the mountains as through a gate. over a singularly uniform and continuous plain without fissures or undulations we now approach in a south-westerly direction the threshold which separates the shuru-tso from the dangra-yum-tso. on the south-west side of tangro-gangri appear six glaciers, much smaller than those on the north and east, and rather to be regarded as spurs and corners of the ice mantle which covers the higher regions of the massive. the shuru-tso is seen as a fine blue line. we approach its shore and find that the lake is completely frozen over. we make a halt to photograph and to draw a panorama. our old man smokes a pipe, and robert and tashi try which can snore loudest. when i am ready we sneak off quietly from the two sleepers. tashi is the first to awake, understands the joke, and also sneaks off. at last robert awakes and finds himself alone, but he soon overtakes us on his mule. now we have the lake close on our right. to the south rise grand mountains, one of the loftiest chains of the trans-himalaya, raven black beneath the sun, but the firn-fields glitter with a metallic lustre. considerable terraces skirt the bank, and the valleys running down from the east to the lake cut through them, forming hollow ways in which a solitary tent stands here and there guarded by a savage dog. we encamp on the terrace above the parva valley, our eight black tents contrasting strongly with the yellow soil ( , feet). our old tibetans from kyangdam now bid us farewell and receive double payment as a present. in front of us are the congealed waters of the shuru-tso, longing to be released by the warm spring winds; to the south rises the do-tsengkan, a mighty elevation clothed in eternal snow; in the south-west the sun sinks behind the huge crest of the mountains and the shadows pass silently across the ice. soon the evening red lingers only on the peaks of targo-gangri and do-tsengkan, and then another night falls over the earth. it is a pity that the tibetans do not understand the relations of the sun and the planets, for they might regard the solar system as a unique immeasurable prayer-mill revolving in space to the glory of the gods. in the darkness the lofty mountains to the north-west are misty and indistinct, but when the moon rises they and the lake are illuminated alike and seem to be connected. from our terrace we seem to have a bottomless abyss below us. on may we ride southwards along the shore (illust. ). like the dangra-yum-tso, the shuru-tso runs almost north and south, lying in a longitudinal valley which has this direction, so unusual in tibet. there is open water along the bank, and the waves splash against the edge of the porous ice, on which wild ducks sit, often in long rows. owing to the swell the water on the bank is black with decayed algæ and rotting water-weeds, in which wild geese cackle and scream. as we come to the regularly curved southern shore of the lake, with its bank of sand, we see the well-known signs of a storm on the plain before us, white dust swirls, stirred up in spirals from the ground by the wind, like the smoke of a shot. after a time we find ourselves in the path of the storm--it will not need many such storms to break up the whole lake and drive its loosened ice-sheets to the eastern bank. we ride across the river kyangdam-tsangpo, which comes from the trans-himalaya, and bivouac on its western terrace ( , feet). here we have the whole lake in front of us to the north, and behind it targo-gangri, now smaller again. here our attendants were changed. the largep chief, who had been so overbearing at first, was as meek as a lamb at the moment of parting, and gave me a _kadakh_, a sheep, and four skins of butter. every morning when the caravan sets out ishe comes to my tent to fetch my two puppies; muhamed isa has the third, which he means to train up to be a wonderful animal, and the fourth has been consigned to sonam tsering. they have grown a deal already, and howl and bite each other on the march, when they ride in a basket on the back of a mule. they are graceful and playful, and give me great amusement with their tricks. from the little pass dunka-la we had a grand and instructive view over the great shuru-tso, which is of a somewhat elongated form and is convex to the west. next day we crossed the pass ben-la in a south-westerly storm. it raged and blew day and night, but the air remained quite clear. on the th we rode up a steep path to the angden-la. in the rather deep snow and the tiring rubbish the horses can get on only a step at a time, and have often to stop and rest. tsering rides past us with his yak caravan, and four ladakis have stayed behind in the valley suffering from acute headache. at the top of the pass ( , feet) stands a huge cairn with strings and streamers, their prayers rising to the dwellings of the gods on the wings of the wind (illusts. , , ). [illustration: . the shuru-tso, with targo-gangri in the background.] no words can describe the panorama around us. we stand above a sea of mountains with here and there a predominant peak. to the south we see the himalayas clearer and sharper than before, and can perceive where the valley of the brahmaputra runs on this side of the white ridge. to the north the shuru-tso is much foreshortened, and the dangra-yum-tso is hidden by targo-gangri, which is sharply defined, though we are six days' journey from it. nay, even the contours of the mighty mountains on the north-east shore of the lake, which we saw in winter from the north, are distinguishable, and they lie fully ten days' journey from here. i sit at the fire, drawing and making observations, as on all the passes. i am again on the trans-himalaya, miles from the chang-la-pod-la, and now cross it for the third time. northwards the water drains to the shuru-tso, southwards to the raga-tsangpo. my feet stand on the oceanic watershed, my eyes roam over this huge system, which i love as my own possession. for the part where i now stand was unknown and waited millions of years for my coming, lashed by innumerable storms, washed by autumn rains, and wrapped in snow in winter. with every new pass on the watershed of the gigantic rivers of india which i have the good fortune to cross, my desire and hope become ever greater to follow its winding line westwards to regions already known, and to fill up on the map the great white blank north of the tsangpo. i know very well that generations of explorers will be necessary to examine this mighty intricate mountain land, but my ambition will be satisfied if i succeed in making the first reconnaissance. we leave the cairn and the fire, its smoke covering the summit of the pass as with a torn veil, and follow the brook, of which the water will some day reach the warm sea after a thousand experiences. i turn a page and begin a new chapter in my life as an explorer; the desolate chang-tang remains behind me, and targo-gangri sinks below the horizon--shall i ever see its majestic peaks again? we descend rapidly with the wind in our faces. large blocks of ice fill the valley bottom between walls of black schists and porphyry. several large side valleys open into ours, and deserted hearths are signs of the visits of nomads in summer. our valley unites with the large kyam-chu valley, which is miles broad and descends from the sha-la, the pass of the trans-himalaya over which our tibetans had wished to guide us. the land round the nomad tents of kyam is flat and open. on may we march on in a terrible wind with the blue mirror of the amchok-tso on the south. the ground is flat and hard. a hare runs like the wind, as if his life were in danger, over this flat, where he cannot find the slightest cover. eight sprightly antelopes show us their graceful profiles as they spring lightly along, rising from the horizon against a background of sky. robert has drawn his fur over his head, and sits in the saddle like a lady, with both his legs dangling on the sheltered side, while tashi leads his mule. but as the wind still blows through him, he lays himself on his stomach across the saddle. my horse sways when the wind catches the broad breast of its rider. the wind howls and moans in my ears, it whines and whistles as it used to do in the chang-tang, a whole host of indignant spirits of the air seem to complain of all the misery they have seen in the world. the plain is called amchok-tang, and we march over it, following the main stream. amchok-yung is a village of five tents, where are some fine _manis_ bedecked with yak skulls, antelope horns, and slabs of sandstone, one of them, of a regular rectangular form, measuring inches. the inhabitants of the village disappeared as if by magic; only an old man gave us his company as we inspected two of the tents. but when we had ridden on, the people crept out again from behind dung heaps, hillocks, and grass tufts, where they had hidden themselves. the wind bores thick yellow sand out of the ground into a spout, which is so dense that it looks black on the shady side. it winds up in cyclonic spirals like the smoke of a tremendous explosion and, like a strange ghost, dances across the plain, and does not fall to pieces till it reaches the foot of the eastern mountains. [illustration: . on the upper raga-tsangpo.] [illustration: . angden-la.] [illustration: . chomo-uchong from the east.] in our camp of this day, situated on the north-west shore of the amchok-tso, we heard chinese and tibetan officials spoken of who were shortly to ride through the country in all directions, counting the tents, people, and herds. it was thought that this inspection was connected with the new taxation which the chinese intend to introduce. my boat lay ready on the strand, for may was to be devoted to an excursion on the amchok-tso. chapter xxxviii to the outlet of the chaktak-tsangpo in the brahmaputra the lake was free from ice, and only on the northern shore some blocks rocked on the surf. a south-west wind swept constantly over the country, and there was no prospect of good weather. a dozen tibetans followed me at a respectful distance. i begged them to come nearer and see us start. the boat was brought down to the water, rehim ali and shukkur took their places, and lama carried me to the boat through the slowly deepening water. a promontory to the south, ° e., was fixed as our goal, and the oarsmen began their struggle with the waves. for the first hour the lake was so shallow that the oars struck the bottom and stirred up inky-black mud. shukkur cries out in time with the oars, "shubasa, ya aferin, bismillah, ya barkadiallah"--to cite only a few words of his inexhaustible repertoire. rehim ali's oar gives me a splash as it dips in, but i am soon dry again in the wind. the swell stirs up the mud from the bottom, and the water is so shallow that the waves show a tendency to break even out in the middle of the lake. [illustration: , . angden-la, a pass on the trans-himalaya.] now the sandspouts begin their threatening dance on the western shore, and in that direction the water gleams white. the storm sweeps over the amchok-tso, and the two mohammedans must put forth all their strength to force the boat forward against wind and water. the swell grows heavier, the depth is . feet, and the water assumes a greener hue. shukkur ali, our old fisherman, puts out his line, but nothing but floating algæ will bite. in several places are seen wild ducks, gulls, and wild geese. nomads have just arrived and are putting up their tents in a gorge on the eastern shore. at length we reach the promontory, having sounded a maximum depth of only feet. after observations have been taken, a panorama sketched, and dinner eaten, we again set off in a northerly direction, and the boat dances before the brisk wind lightly as a wild duck over the waves. we sail past three more tents, sound . feet, and approach the northern shore, where the water is only inches deep, and is a muddy soup. we run aground at a distance of yards from the bank. rabsang comes up running, leading my horse by the bridle, and some other ladakis follow him. they help us to land, and light a much needed fire at the foot of the sand terrace which here rises from the bank. the river kyam-chu enters the amchok-tso on the north side, and only ¼ miles to the west of its muddy delta the dongmo-chu flows out of the lake towards its confluence with the raga-tsangpo in the east. properly speaking, the dongmo is only the continuation of the kyam-chu, with the lake hanging like a bag on its right bank. after the boat has been folded up, muhamed isa has to show us the way on horseback over the grass-grown sandhills. he guides me across the twenty shallow and treacherously swampy delta arms of the kyam-chu. it is dark, but a beacon fire has been lighted in the camp, and the cakes of dung are heated to whiteness in the strong wind, and shine like electric light. next day i was up before the sun, in order to take an observation. the thermometer had sunk in the night to . °, and the wind blew regularly as a trade-wind. it is pleasant to see the day dawn in the east, and life begin anew among the tents. the hired yaks have lain tethered during the night, and now they are allowed to wander freely over the pasture. sleepy yawns are heard in the tents, and men come out and make up the fires; the jug bubbles in which the morning tea is stirred up with butter, and kettles are set on three stones over the fire. the puppies play in the open, and are glad that they have not to roll about to-day in a basket. the days and months fly by to a chorus of storms, and spring still delays its coming. in the evening songs of the ladakis i fancy i hear an undertone of home-sickness, and they rejoice at every day's march which brings us a little further westwards. when we woke next morning, it blew as fresh as ever, and robert had made himself a mask with tibetan spectacles sewed into the eye-holes; he looked very comical in this contrivance, which was very appropriate in this land of religious masquerades. the road, ascending the broad valley of the pu-chu, led over open, slightly undulating ground to serme-lartsa. here old guffaru was reported sick; he suffered from colic, and was well nursed. but late at night robert came breathless to my tent to tell me the old man was dying. when i came to the tent the son, whose duty it was to keep the shroud ready, sat weeping beside his father, while the other men warmed their caps over the fire and applied them to the body of the patient. i ordered him a cold compress, but he asked me, to the intense amusement of others, just to go back to my tent again. muhamed isa laughed till he rolled over. guffaru sat upright on his bed, moaned and groaned, and begged me to go away. i gave him a strong dose of opium, and next morning he was so brisk that he walked all the way, though a horse was at his disposal. the remains of burroughs and wellcome's medicine chest had saved his life; he was thankful and pleased that his shroud was not required this time. [illustration: . manis on the way to the angden-la.] on may we mounted to the pass lungring ( , feet) in a bitterly cold snowstorm, and descended the valley of the same name to the bank of the upper raga-tsangpo. on the th we marched upstream; the valley is broad, and is bounded on the north by great mountains. the thermometer had sunk to - . °, and the storm was dead against us. occasionally it abated so much that we could hear the footfalls of the horses on the detritus, but we were benumbed when we came to the camp. thick snow fell all the afternoon. my puppies sat together in the tent door and growled at the falling flakes, but when they saw it was no use, they snapped at the flakes as though they were flies and pawed at them. then they went back into the tent, lay on the frieze blanket in the corner, and let it snow on. on the next day's march we passed kamba-sumdo, where the two head sources of the raga-tsangpo unite; the one, coming from the west, is named chang-shung, the other, from the south-west, lo-shung, _i.e._ "northern" and "southern valley." the chang-shung is the larger. the lo-shung we had to cross twice, and found the bed full of stones connected by slippery ice. in the west a large snow-covered ridge appeared, the chomo-uchong, or "high nun," which was discovered by nain sing. ryder measured it and produced an exact map of it. belts of snow descend from the white summits down the dark flanks. other tibetans called it choor-jong (illust. ). still marching south-westwards we approached at an acute angle the great main road between lhasa and ladak, the so-called _tasam_. as though to show its importance a caravan was just at the time travelling westwards in three columns. it moved so slowly through the landscape that we had to watch the mountain spur behind to convince ourselves that the small black lines were moving at all. soon afterwards we pitched our tents in raga-tasam ( , feet), a station on the great high-road, where we came in contact with the route of the english expedition under ryder and rawling for the first time since leaving shigatse. whatever the immediate future had in store for me, it was above all things my desire to avoid this route as much as possible. for the map which ryder and wood had executed is the best that has been surveyed of any part of tibet; i could add nothing new to it with my modest equipment. but if i passed to the north or south of their line of march, i could supplement their map with my own explorations. in this i actually so far succeeded that out of eighty-three days' marches to tokchen on the manasarowar only two-and-a-half days' march ran along their route. as i now perceived that we should have to travel on the road which nain sing in the year , and ryder and rawling and their comrades in , had passed along, i wrote, after consultation with robert and muhamed isa, to tang darin and lien darin in lhasa. i represented in an urgent appeal to the former, the high commissioner, that it could not clash with any treaty if i, being already in tibet, travelled to ladak by one road or another, provided that i actually did go thither, and that i therefore begged permission to take the following route: i wished to take my homeward way past the lake tedenam-tso, of which nain sing had heard, then to visit the dangra-yum-tso, and thence to proceed to tradum and to the ghalaring-tso, the holy mountain kailas, the manasarowar lake, the sources of the indus and the brahmaputra, and lastly gartok. to the other, the amban of lhasa, i also wrote about the way i desired to take, and promised to send him a report about it from gartok. i told both that i wished for a speedy answer, and would wait for it in raga-tasam. as soon as i had come to a decision, i called tundup sonam and tashi, and told them to get their sleep over by midnight. then i wrote the above-mentioned letters and letters to my parents and to major o'connor. when my correspondence was ready, it was past midnight. the camp had lain several hours in sleep when i made the night watchman waken the two messengers and muhamed isa. their orders were such as they had never received before. they were to travel day and night along the miles to shigatse and hand over my letters to ma. they need not wait for an answer, for i had asked the mandarins to send me special couriers. provisions they need not take, for they would be able to get everything on the great high-road, and i gave them money to hire the horses they required. they would be able to reach their journey's end in ten days, and in a month we ought to have an answer. if they did not find us in raga-tasam on their return, they were to follow in our track. tundup sonam and tashi were in good spirits and full of hope when muhamed isa and i accompanied them outside the camp, and watched them disappear into the dark night. they made a detour to avoid the twelve black tents standing here, lest the numerous dogs of the village should bark. it was not far to the great high-road, and at the next _tasam_, as the stations are called, they could hire horses at daybreak. muhamed isa and i sat a while in my tent in lively conversation about our prospects. not till i had crept into bed after a tiring day did it occur to me that it was perhaps cruel to let the two men ride alone day and night through tibet. but it was too late, they must now fulfil their mission. there was no hurry now. we stayed here seven days. westwards the way was open, but not the way i wished to take, and therefore we were prisoners in our own tents. "patience," whispered the ceaseless winds. the unknown land lay to the north; i could not give it up till all my efforts had proved fruitless. we had cold unpleasant weather, with frequently more than degrees of frost, and on the night of may as much as . degrees. the tibetans said that this neighbourhood is always cold, even when spring reigns all around. i lay on my bed and read _david copperfield_, _dombey and son_, and _the newcomes_, for i had now a whole library to read through, the gift of the obliging major o'connor. robert gave me lessons in hindustani, and i drew types of the people. a puppy of the same age as our own warily came up to my tent and got a breakfast. mamma puppy was by no means pleased with this wayside guest, who looked comical, as shy and quiet as a mouse; he sat by the hour together at the fire and looked at me, at length falling asleep and turning on his side. when he appeared again at dinner, he was thoroughly worried by puppy, but nevertheless went calmly to the family mat and laid himself down. puppy was furious, but so dumbfoundered at this unexpected impudence that she laid herself down on the ground beside the mat. tibetans came every day to my tent and implored us to make a start. when this proved useless, they declared at length, that they could no longer supply us with provisions, for no more were to be had in the neighbourhood. i asked them, as an experiment, whether they would forward two letters to the mandarins in lhasa, but they replied that they had no authority to do this. they were much astonished when they heard that i had sent off letters five days previously. for two days i lay in bed, for i was quite at an end of my strength, and made robert read to me. on whitsunday, may , we had another long palaver. the tibetans read to me the instructions they had received from lhasa, which were dated "on the tenth day of the second month in the year of the fiery sheep." i was there called hedin sahib, and the orders contained the following clauses: "send him out of the country. let him not turn aside from the _tasam_, and guide him neither to the right nor to the left. supply him with horses, yaks, servants, fuel, grass, and everything he wants. the prices he must pay are the usual prices fixed by the government. give him at once anything he asks for and refuse him nothing. but if he will not conform to the directions on his passport, but says he will take other routes independently, give him no provisions, but keep firm hold of him and send off messengers at once to the devashung. do not venture to think for yourselves, but obey. any one in the provinces who does not obey will be beaten; so run the regulations you have to conform to. if he gives no trouble, see that the nomads serve him well and do him no harm on the way to gartok. then it will be the business of the garpuns (the two viceroys) to take him under their protection." and yet i was not satisfied. i told them that i could not think of conforming to my passport, which was contrary to my religion, and that i must go northwards from the chomo-uchong to saka-dzong. they were quite at liberty to send messengers to the devashung. we would wait. then they held a council, and at length agreed to let us take the northern route, but we must set out on may . [illustration: . chomo-uchong from lamlung-la.] [illustration: . panorama from the ta-la. (the brahmaputra valley and the himalayas in the background.) sketches by the author.] i lay on my bed and dreamed of the tramp of horses coming both from the east and the west, of the roads open to me to the mysterious mountain system in the north, round which my plans and my dreams circled continually like young eagles. so we set out on may , north-westwards, and saw the summits of the chomo-uchong disappear behind its outskirts. from the camp we could see several valleys in the north-west drained by the source streams of the raga-tsangpo. just beyond raga-tasam we again left the route of the english expedition, and on the nd climbed up to the pass ravak-la, which lies on a low ridge between two of the source streams of the raga-tsangpo. on the rd we crossed four passes. the kichung-la is the watershed between the raga-loshung and the chungsang, a river which takes an independent course to the tsangpo. the ascent to the fourth pass, the kanglung-la, was very tiresome, the ground consisting of wet alluvium, wherein the horses sank so deep that we preferred to go on foot and splash through the mud. we were now on the heights whence the water flows down to three of the northern tributaries of the brahmaputra; the third flows to the chaktak-tsangpo, which runs to the west of saka-dzong. here and there the snow, owing to wind, melting and freezing again, has assumed the form of upright blades, two feet high and sharp as a knife. far to the south appear parts of the himalayas, and we are here in a grand landscape of wild and fantastic relief. now and then the view is obscured by dense showers of hail. on the morning of the th all the country was hidden by thickly falling snow, and the weather at the end of may was more winterly than on the chang-tang in december. we ride between steep cliffs down a deeply eroded valley, and side valleys run in with narrow deep openings. in one of them is a frozen waterfall. we often cross the clear water of the river which rushes along on its way to saka-dzong and the chaktak-tsangpo. violent gusts of snow sweep through the valley from time to time, and then we can hardly see our hands, and the ground and the mountains become white. in the beautiful junction of valleys called pangsetak our tents and those of the tibetans were heavily weighted with snow. on the th we go down further. nomad tents are as rare as on the preceding days, for people come here only in summer. the path runs frequently up along the left terrace, high above the valley bottom, where the river has formed two large basins of dark-green water. we amused ourselves with rolling stones down the steep slope; they knocked against other boulders, dashed with a thundering noise into the valley, tearing up sand and dust, bounced up from the ground, and finally plunged into the basin, raising a cloud of spray. it was childish but very diverting. the valley passes into a plain, in the southern part of which runs the great high-road between raga-tasam and saka-dzong. the river we had followed down is the kanglung-bupchu, but in saka it is called sa-chu-tsangpo. we pitched our camp in the mouth of the valley basang on the north side of the plain. from here to saka-dzong is a short day's journey. but, instead of travelling along this road, which ryder has already laid down on his map, i wished to see the place where the chaktak-tsangpo unites with the upper brahmaputra. that would involve a long detour of four days' journey, and to this our friends from raga would not consent without the permission of the governor of saka. we therefore stayed a day in the basang valley, while a messenger was sent to him. when the answer came it was, to our surprise, in the affirmative, but under the condition that the main part of the caravan should proceed straight to saka-dzong. i even received a local passport for the excursion. among other natives who at this time sat for me as models was a youth of twenty years, named ugyu, who had lived some years before with his mother and sisters in a valley to the north, where their tent was attacked and pillaged by robbers. they had defended themselves bravely with sabres and knives, but the robber band had had firearms, and ugyu had been struck by a bullet, which had passed through his shoulder-blade and lung, and had come out at his breast. large scars showed the course of the bullet. when one remembers that the leaden bullets of the tibetans are as large as hazel-nuts, one is astonished that the boy did not die of internal hæmorrhage. he appeared, on the contrary, extraordinarily healthy and blooming, and had an amiable, sympathetic disposition. i sat on a barley sack before muhamed isa's tent and sketched. meanwhile, the baggage and provisions were made ready for the excursion. my excellent caravan leader stood, tall and straight as a pole, watching the others filling the sacks we were to take with us. he had the boat also and everything we wanted for river measurements packed up. in the evening he arranged a farewell ball for tsering, shukkur ali, rabsang, islam ahun, and ishe, who were to accompany robert and me to the tsangpo. he had bought in shigatse a large fine guitar, on which he played himself in his tent. this evening the dancing and singing went off more gaily and merrily than ever. we expected good news from lhasa, and were glad that the people in saka had granted the permission i had asked for. on the morning of may the weather was really fine after a minimum of only °; had the spring come at last? the main caravan had already gone off westwards to saka, and my party was ready when muhamed isa came to say farewell. he was ordered to remain in saka till i returned, and to try by all means to gain the confidence of the officials by friendliness and prudent conduct. my small caravan was on the road to the south, and we stood alone on the deserted camping-ground. after he had received his instructions we mounted into our saddles at the same time and i rode after my men. i turned once more in the saddle and saw muhamed isa's stately form upright on his grey horse, his pipe in his mouth, his green velvet cap on his head, and the black sheepskin loose on his shoulder, trotting quickly in the track of the caravan. it was the last time i saw him thus. soon we cross the great high-road, the _tasam_, and ride slowly up to the pass gyebuk-la ( , feet), marked by four _manis_, which are covered with green flags of schist with incised buddha images. the well-worn path, and three caravans of yaks which are just coming over the pass on the way to saka-dzong, show us that this is an important trade-route. two of the caravans came from the great town tsongka-dzong, which lies five days' journey southwards, not far from the frontier of nepal. from saka the caravans go over the gyebuk-la, cross the brahmaputra, ascend the samderling valley, and by the sukpu-la and negu-la passes reach tsongka-dzong, which supplies the nomads living in the north with barley. from gyebuk-la there is a grand view over the sharp peaks and the glacier tongues of the chomo-uchong. on the southern slopes of the pass there are _pama_ bushes almost everywhere, and it is pleasant to see their fresh green needles again. the road runs down the kyerkye valley. on a smooth wall of rock "om mani padme hum" is hewn in characters a yard high. at camp no. the tibetans of the neighbourhood came kindly to meet me and bid me welcome, and two of them led my horse by the bridle to my tent, as is the custom in this country. next day we march down the valley with fresh guides, and see several ruins telling of happier times now gone by. terraced structures for irrigating the fields indicate that barley is grown in the district. in front of us is now the broad valley of the brahmaputra, and we come to an arm of the river where a ferry is established to transport caravans and goods on the way between tsongka-dzong and saka-dzong from one side of the river to the other. camp no. was pitched at the extremity of the tongue of gravel between the two rivers. the chaktak-tsangpo had here a breadth of . feet, a maximum depth of . feet, an average velocity of . feet, and a discharge of cubic feet per second. its water was almost quite clear, and in consequence of its greater velocity forced its way far into the muddy water of the brahmaputra. the latter had at mid-day a temperature of . °, while the water of the tributary was a little warmer, namely, . °. our companions told us that all who come to the great river drink of the water, because it comes from the holy mountain kailas, or kang-rinpoche, in the far west. shukkur ali sat with his ground line at a deep bay with slow eddies and pulled out of the water ten fine fish, a species of sheat with four soft barbs. he had raw meat as bait on his five hooks; at one end of the line a stone was tied, so that it could be thrown far out into deep water, and the other end was made fast to a peg driven in to the bank, and a stone was laid on the line so lightly in the fork of the peg that it fell when a fish bit. the fisherman can then occupy himself meanwhile with some manual work, such as mending shoes. he puts his fish in a small enclosed basin. the fish had white flesh, and were delicate. on may we measured the main river at a place where a low island divides it into two channels . and . feet broad respectively, with a maximum depth of . feet. here the brahmaputra carries cubic feet of water, and after receiving the chaktak-tsangpo. at the confluence of the dok-chu we had found only cubic feet, but the measurement was made a month and a half earlier. the ratio of the brahmaputra to the dok-chu was : , and of the brahmaputra to the chaktak-tsangpo : . the dok-chu is therefore considerably larger than the chaktak-tsangpo. on may we followed the broad valley of the chaktak-tsangpo towards the north-west and west-north-west till we came to a district named takbur, whence we intended to ride next day over the takbur-la to saka-dzong. but it did not come off; for before i was awakened, came a chief with five attendants and made a horrible disturbance with my men and our tibetans from kyerkye. the latter he beat with the flat of his sword, and he took away from the former the milk and butter they had bought the evening before, saying that no one had permission to sell us provisions. he told robert that he had orders not to let us pass through to saka-dzong, and that he would make us stay here three months. we might not hire yaks also--which was very inconvenient, as we had only a horse and a mule after all the hired animals had gone. we might not buy provisions; but this was not of much consequence, for robert had shot four wild-geese and found a large quantity of eggs, and the river was full of fish. i accordingly sent islam ahun and ishe to saka with a message that muhamed isa should send us five horses immediately. then i summoned the supercilious chief to my tent, where he confirmed the accounts of my men. he declared that i had no right to deviate a single step from the great high-road, and that the district in which we were was under him, not under saka-dzong, and therefore the local passport was worthless. he intended to carry out the orders he had received, as he valued his head. when i told him that i should report his uncivil behaviour to the mandarins in lhasa, he jumped up and drew his sword threateningly, but when he saw that my composure could not be shaken he quieted down. in the evening he came to tell us that we might cross the takbur-la, and brought us both yaks and provisions. who he was we could never discover, for in saka no one would acknowledge that he knew him. perhaps it was only a childish attempt to cure me of further deviations from the main road. however, it was a pity that we had lost a day here. when the morning of june dawned, islam ahun and ishe came with our horses, which we did not now need, and brought me greetings from muhamed isa, who sent word that all was well with the caravan; they were on friendly terms with the authorities, and were permitted to buy all they required. we set off again northwards and marched through the takbur valley, where there was abundance of game--hares, pheasants, and partridges--some of which tsering shot, and foxes, marmots, and field-mice. in the distance we saw a grey prowling animal which we took for a lynx. there were also kiangs, which seemed very unconcerned. north-west, north, and north-east huge snowy mountains were seen from the takbur-la ( , feet), of which ryder and wood had taken bearings. like those englishmen, i considered it certain that these peaks lay on the watershed of the tsangpo, and belonged to the crest of the trans-himalaya. i had afterwards an opportunity of proving that this was a mistake. from the pass a river runs down to join the sachu-tsangpo. here we saw a number of yaks in the luxuriant grass, and a nearly tame kulan kept them company. [illustration: . beggar at tashi-gembe.] [illustration: . young tibetan at the mouth of the chaktak-tsangpo.] [illustration: . wandering lama with a wooden glove in his hand, such as is used to protect the hands in the prostration pilgrimage round the holy mountain kailas. sketches by the author.] where the river emerges into the saka plain, we passed on its left side over a last small spur of the mountain on which the pass is situated, and here i rested for an hour with robert, to draw a panorama of the interesting country. tsering marched on with his men, and disappeared as a speck on the great plain. to the east-north-east the white houses of saka-dzong could be seen in the distance, and with the glass we could make out the camp, two black tents and a white, the latter muhamed isa's. then we too passed across the plain. on the left stood four tents, where the sheep were being driven into the fold for the night. at one place the road divides; travellers who have nothing to do in saka-dzong take the southern road. we cross the sa-chu river and the overflow of a spring; there is a strong wind from the west, and we long for the tents and the warmth of the camp-fires. at last we are there. guffaru comes to greet us, and all the others call out to us "salaam!" and "ju!" i look in vain for muhamed isa's stalwart figure, and inquire for him. "he is lying in bed and has been ill all day," they answer. i suppose that he has his usual headache again, go to the brazier in my tent, and let robert, as usual, unpack the things i require for my evening work. we were tired and chilled through and longed for our supper. chapter xxxix muhamed isa's death we had not been sitting long when rabsang came to say that muhamed isa had lost consciousness, and did not answer when he was spoken to. i now perceived that he had had an apoplectic fit, and hurried off with robert to his tent, which stood close beside mine. an oil-lamp was burning beside the head of his bed, where his brother tsering sat weeping. the sick man lay on his back, tall, strong, and straight. the mouth was a little drawn on the left side, and the pupil of the left eye seemed very small, while that of the right eye was normal. the pulse was regular and strong, beating . i at once ordered hot bottles to be laid at his feet, and a bag of ice on his head. his clothes were loosened; he breathed deeply and regularly. the eyes were half open, but were lustreless. i called his name loudly, but he gave little sign; he tried to turn his head and move his right arm, uttered a low groan, and then remained still again. robert was shocked when i told him that muhamed isa would not see the sun rise again. while we were sitting beside his bed i inquired the circumstances from rehim ali and guffaru, who had been with him all day long. during the four days they had waited for us here, he had been quite well, and had never complained of headache. he had tried, in accordance with the last instructions i had given him at the camp in the basang valley, to win the friendship and confidence of the authorities. the day before he had been still in excellent spirits, had drunk tea with his most intimate friends in the caravan, and had sung to the accompaniment of the guitar. on this day, june , he had got up with the sun, drunk tea, and had had a stormy interview with two tibetans from the dzong. they had refused to supply the caravan with provisions, and then insisted that the caravan should leave the place at once. he had answered that the sahib would soon be back, and that it would go badly with them if they did not obey him. they had gone away in anger, and then muhamed isa had breakfasted about ten o'clock, and had slept an hour. when he rose, he had complained of headache. when the sun had reached its noonday height he had gone to look out for us, and had then had a violent attack of sickness, fallen on his left side and lain senseless. the other men hurried up, carried him to his tent, and massaged his body. he was restored thereby to consciousness, and spoke much but indistinctly, and chiefly with the god of islam: "i was a lamaist but went over to islam; help me now, o allah, out of this severe illness; let me recover; forgive me my sins and all the wrong i have done to others; let me live, o allah, and i will always keep thy commandments and will never omit my prayers." then he had admonished the others to do their duty as heretofore, and thanked them that they had so patiently assisted him in his misfortune. now and then he had asked for cold water. he had felt his left arm with his right hand, and asked whose arm it was, and had also said that he did not feel the shoe on his left foot. the whole left side was quite paralysed. sitting upright, and supported by cushions, he had made the following request to guffaru: "thou, who art old, and keepest the commandments of religion, wilt not pollute thy hands if thou takest a knife and cuttest my neck; cut deep down to the spine, for that will relieve my infernal headache." in his fearful suffering he struck his right hand against a box. about an hour later another stroke deprived him of speech, and after that he had only made a sign with his right hand, as though in despair at the approach of death. towards four o'clock tsering had come and thrown himself over him, weeping loudly. muhamed isa had also wept, and pointed to his lips to intimate that he could not speak. when we entered his tent about five o'clock his consciousness was almost gone. he remained in the same condition for an hour and a half, breathing quietly, with his mouth closed. i went therefore to my dinner, which adul had prepared for me. robert and i studied burroughs and wellcome's medical handbook, to see that nothing had been omitted. about eight o'clock we returned to the sick-bed. muhamed isa was now breathing with his mouth open--a bad sign, showing that the muscles of the jaws were relaxed; the pulse beat , and was very weak. the despair of old tsering when i told him all hope was gone, was heart-rending. half an hour later the breathing became slower and weaker, and about nine o'clock the death-rattle commenced, and the struggle of the muscles of the chest to supply the lungs with sufficient air. about every fortieth respiration was deep, and then there was a pause before the next came. they were followed by moans. his feet grew cold in spite of the hot bottles, which were frequently changed. at a quarter-past nine the breathing became still slower and the intervals longer. a death spasm shook his body and slightly raised his shoulders; it was followed by another. the mohammedans whispered to tsering that he should leave his place at the head, for a mohammedan must hold the lower jaw and close the mouth after the last breath. but the sorrowing brother could only be brought to leave his place by force. a third and last spasm shook the dying man, produced by the cold of death. after a deep respiration he lay still for seconds. we thought that life had flown, but he breathed again, and after another minute came the last feeble breath, and then old guffaru bound a cloth under the chin and covered the face with a white kerchief. then all was still, and, deeply moved, i bared my head before the awful majesty of death. [illustration: . the corpse of muhamed isa.] horrified and dismayed, the mohammedans poured into the tent, and the lamaists after them, and i heard them from time to time call out in low tones, "la illaha il allah!" tsering was beside himself: he knelt by the dead, beat his forehead with his hands, wept aloud, nay, howled and bellowed, while large tears rolled down his furrowed sunburnt face. i patted him on the shoulder, and begged him to try and compose himself, go into his tent, drink tea, and lie down and rest. but he neither heard nor saw, and the others had to carry him to his tent, and i heard him wailing in the night as long as i lay awake. yes, death is an awful guest. we could hardly realize that he had so suddenly entered our peaceful camp. i had a long conversation with robert in my tent, and old guffaru was sent for to receive my orders for the funeral. the mohammedans were to watch in turn beside the body through the night. early next morning the permission of the authorities would be obtained for the choice of a burying-place, and then the interment would take place. at midnight i paid a last visit to my excellent, faithful caravan leader, who had fallen at his post in the prime of life. he lay long and straight, swathed in a shroud and a frieze rug, in the middle of his tent. at his head burned his oil-lamp, slightly flickering in the draught. the dead watch of five men sat mute and motionless, but rose when i entered. we uncovered his face; it was calm and dignified, and a slight smile played round the lips; the colour was pale, but slightly bronzed from the effect of wind and sun (illust. ). arched over him was the half-dark bell of the tent--the tent which had fluttered in all the winds of heaven on the way through the chang-tang, and from which muhamed isa's merry jests had so often been heard in quiet cold tibetan nights amidst the sound of flutes and guitars. now depressing silence reigned around; only the stars sparkled with electric brilliancy. how empty and dreary everything seemed when i woke on sunday, june , the day of muhamed isa's funeral! i went out and looked at the grave; it lay about yards to the south-west of the camp. the mohammedans had been early in the village to borrow a door, and had washed the body on it. then they had wrapped it in guffaru's shroud, which was of thin linen, but quite white and clean. muhamed isa and i had often laughed together over the old man's singular fancy of taking this death garment on the journey. over the shroud (_kafan_) they had wrapped a grey frieze rug. the body lay now in the bright sunshine before the tent, on a bier consisting of the bottom of the two halves of the boat fastened together, and provided with four cross-poles for the bearers. when all was ready the eight mohammedans raised the bier on to their shoulders, and carried their chieftain and leader, royally tall, straight and cold, to his last resting-place. i walked immediately behind the bier, and then came robert and some lamaists; the rest were occupied at the grave, and only two remained in the camp, which could not be left unguarded. from tsering's tent a despairing wailing could still be heard. he had been persuaded not to come to the grave. he was heart and soul a lamaist, and now he was troubled at the thought that he would never see his brother again, who had looked forward to the paradise of the mohammedans. some tibetans stood at a distance. slowly, solemnly, and mournfully the procession set itself in motion (illust. ). no ringing of bells, no strewn fir-branches, no chants spoke of an awakening beyond the valley of the shadow of death. but above us the turquoise-blue sky stretched its vault, and around us the lofty, desolate mountains held watch. in deep mournful voice the bearers sang, "la illaha il allah," in time with their heavy steps. they staggered under their burden, and had to change it frequently to the other shoulder, for muhamed isa was big, corpulent, and heavy. [illustration: . muhamed isa's funeral procession.] at length we ascended a gravel terrace between two source streams. the bier was placed at the edge of the grave, which was not quite ready (illusts. , , ). it was deep, lay north and south, and had a cutting or niche on the left side, under which the body was to be laid, so that the earth might not press on it when the grave was filled in. four men stood in the grave and received the body, and placed it, wrapped only in the white shroud, under the arch, arranging it so that the face was turned towards mecca, where the hopes of all true believing pilgrims are centred. scarcely was all set in order when a painful incident occurred, an evil omen: the overhanging vault of loose, dry gravel fell in, burying the corpse completely, and partly covering the four men. there was silence, and the men looked at one another irresolute. shukkur ali broke the oppressive silence, jumped into the grave, out of which the others clambered, dug out the body again, and removed the gravel from the shroud as well as he could. a wall was then erected of sods cut from the bank of the brook so as to protect the body, the outer space was filled in with sand and stones, and finally a mound a yard high was thrown up over the grave, two stone slabs being placed at the head and foot. when all was done the lamaists went home, but the mohammedans remained at the grave to pray for the deceased, sometimes kneeling, sometimes standing up with their palms before their face. shukkur ali, who had been muhamed isa's old friend and comrade on many of his journeys in asia, broke out into violent weeping and wailing, but the others mourned more quietly. finally, i said a few words in turki. during all my journeys i had never had a more efficient, experienced, and faithful caravan leader; he had maintained discipline in the caravan, been a father to the men, and taken the best care of the animals; he had been an excellent interpreter, and had treated the natives with prudence and tact. by his happy, humorous disposition he had kept all the others in good temper. in difficult situations he had always found the right way out. in unknown country he had climbed passes and summits to look for the best route--he had always gone himself and not sent others. his memory would always be cherished and honoured among us, and he had also earned a great name in the exploration of asia, for during thirty years he had served many other sahibs as faithfully and honestly as myself. we went silently home after our day's work. in the lectionary of this sunday occurred the bible text, "thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee." muhamed isa had travelled far, and was highly respected in asia. he had been in saka-dzong before, in the year , as rawling and ryder's caravan leader. he little thought then that he would return once more, and here set up his tent for the last time after his long wanderings. in the _geographical journal_ of april , p. , rawling refers to him as follows:-- having mentioned saka dzong, let me break off one moment to pay a token of respect to the memory of that faithful servant of sven hedin who died here. mohamed isa was one of the finest characters it has been my fortune to be thrown with. trustworthy and indomitable in his work, his knowledge of asia was unequalled by any native, for he had accompanied younghusband in his famous journey from china, he was with carey, with dalgleish who was afterwards murdered, and with dutreuil de rhins, when he was a helpless witness of his master's violent death at the hands of the tibetans. he acted as my caravan bashi in the gartok expedition, accompanied sven hedin during his recent journey, and died, after thirty years of faithful service, at this desolate spot. from letters i subsequently received from younghusband, o'connor, and ryder, i learned that they also deeply mourned his loss. the grave terrace rose close to the great high-road between ladak and lhasa on its northern side. the mound was next day covered with cut sods arranged in steps, and a small flagstone was set in the ground at the head of the grave, whereon passing mohammedans could spread out a carpet and pray for the repose of the deceased. on a slab of slate, smoothed down with a chisel, i scratched the following inscription in english and in roman letters: muhamed isa caravan leader under carey, dalgleish, de rhins, younghusband rawling, ryder and others died in the service of sven hedin at saka-dzong, on june , at the age of years. [illustration: , , . the interment of muhamed isa.] the writing was then cut in the stone by islam ahun. the name was also engraved in arabic, and at the top the formula, "om mani padme hum," in tibetan characters, that the people of the country might respect the grave. future travellers will find the stone in its place--if the tibetans have not taken it away. in the afternoon of june i sent for tsering to my tent. he was now calm and resigned. he was to be my cook and body-servant as before, but his pay would be raised to rupees a month, and this rise was to date back to our departure from leh. he was allowed to keep the watch i had given to his brother. guffaru, the oldest of the men, was muhamed isa's successor as caravan bashi, received the same increase of pay as tsering, and was allowed to use muhamed isa's grey horse and saddle. in future he would live with two other men in the tent of the deceased. as i foresaw that the discipline would not be what it was in muhamed isa's time, i spoke seriously to the men, telling them that they must obey guffaru as blindly as they had his predecessor, that they ought to hold together as before and continue to serve me faithfully. if any one began to quarrel and was disobedient, he would at once be handed the pay due to him and be sent off to go where he liked. now that we travelled with hired yaks i could very well spare half the men, and therefore it was their interest to conduct themselves so that they might be retained. rabsang and namgyal answered in the name of all, that they would hold together, serve me faithfully, and follow me anywhere. then robert was commissioned to look through the property of the deceased in the presence of tsering, guffaru, shukkur ali, rehim ali, and the hajji, and after he had made an inventory, to pack it in separate boxes, which were ultimately to be delivered to his wife in leh together with his outstanding pay. among his things were some articles of value which he had bought in shigatse--carpets, tea-cups with metal saucers and covers, ornaments, and woven materials. he had left behind only rupees in ready money, a proof that he had been thoroughly honest in his management of the business of the caravan. after all relating to the interment had been carried out, the mohammedans came to ask for a few rupees to enable them to hold a memorial feast in the evening in honour of the deceased. they would make a pudding, called _halva_, of flour, butter, and sugar, drink tea, and kill a sheep. the heathen also, as the mohammedans called their lamaist comrades, were to be present. they sang, ate, and drank, and probably hardly thought of the departed. two gentlemen from the dzong had been with me on june . the governor himself was absent, travelling in his province to number the tents under his administration and to draw up a list of all the inhabited valleys--all by order of the chinese. pemba tsering, the second in command, was very agreeable and polite, but regretted that he could not supply us with provisions any longer, as he must be prepared to furnish necessaries to the men who were constantly passing to and fro between gartok and lhasa. to confirm his words he called up the five govas or district inspectors of the country, who declared that the poor country could not supply all the _tsamba_ and barley we required. i intimated to them that we should still remain a few days awaiting the answer from lhasa; then they rose, protesting that i might stay here as long as i liked, but that they would not provide me with provisions. on the same day a large white-and-blue tent was set up by our camp, but it was not till june that the occupants, the govas of tradum and nyuku, paid me a visit. they had heard of our long stay, and wished to find out the state of affairs for themselves. the nyuku gova began the conversation: "saka and tradum are put down on your passport, but not nyuku. should you, nevertheless, go thither, i will allow you to stay one night, but not longer, for it is stated in the passport that you must travel straight to tradum." "my dear friend," i replied, "when once i am in your place we shall become such good friends that you will ask me to stay a whole month to consolidate our friendship. should you afterwards visit me in india, your visit will be the more agreeable the longer it lasts." he nodded with a roguish smile, and no doubt considered me a wag, but added that he must obey the orders he had received from the devashung. "when i am in correspondence with the mandarins in lhasa, and am waiting for their answer, the devashung has no right to interfere." "very well, then it will be best for you to remain here and not come to tradum or nyuku; provisions are still scarcer there." afterwards pemba tsering came again, bringing two sacks of barley and a sheep. he had become much more compliant since he had talked with the other officials, and promised he would try to procure what we needed. we had still two poor horses and a mule from shigatse, and he was to have one of the animals as a reward. after some consideration he chose the mule. the two horses we sold for a mere trifle to a stranger. now we longed to get away from this miserable saka-dzong and its sad associations. out in god's open, glorious nature the winds blow away sorrow. we daily calculated, robert and i, how long it would be before tundup sonam and tashi returned. if the answer were sent by the so-called chinese flying post, it might arrive any moment. but the days passed and there was no news. one day some horsemen rode past our camp on the way to the west, and reported that they had seen my two messengers in kung gushuk's garden in shigatse, but they knew nothing of their further intentions. "patience," whispered the west wind again. in the maze of difficulties in which we became ever more involved, my hopes rested on the answer of the chinamen. i had told the officials here that i would set off at once if they would allow us to take a more northern route to nyuku, but, as they would not hear of it, we remained where we were. when i looked out of my tent my eyes were attracted to the dark grave on its hill. it seemed as if the grave held us fast, though we longed to get away from it. all was dreary and dismal; we missed muhamed isa, and his absence caused a great blank. but life goes on as usual. when the sun rises, the women of the village stroll about collecting dung into baskets, while the men drive the yaks and horse to pasture. they sing and whistle, children scream and dogs bark. blue smoke rises from the chimneys of the village or from the black tents standing within walls among the houses. from the roof of the saka-gompa with a statue of padma sambhava the single lama of the monastery blows his conch. ravens and bluish-grey pigeons pick up all kinds of morsels among the tents, and the wolves which have come down in the night retire again to the mountains. riders and caravans pass eastwards to a better land, where poplars, willows, and fruit trees are clothed in their finest summer dress. but we are prisoners in this desolate country, with muhamed isa's grave as a focus. i soon perceived what a depressing effect the loss of the big powerful caravan leader had on my men: they became home-sick. they talked of the warmth of their own firesides, and they took to crocheting and knotting shoes for their children and acquaintances. they gathered round the evening fire and talked of the pleasant life in the villages of ladak. robert remarked how dreary and disagreeable tibet was, and how warm and delightful it was in india; he was pining for his mother and his young wife. i should like to know whether any one was more eager to be off than myself, who had so much before me which must be accomplished. yes, i saw only too plainly that i could not achieve all i was striving for with my present caravan; it was worn out and used up, which was really not to be wondered at after all it had gone through. my fate was driving me back to ladak. but i must endeavour to make the most of my chances on the way. and then? all was dark to me. but i knew that i would never give in, and would not leave tibet till i had done all that lay in my power to conquer the unknown land on the north of the upper brahmaputra. on the morning of the th came our old friend the gova of raga-tasam. he had heard that we were in difficulties, and offered to speak a good word on our behalf to pemba tsering. afterwards the two came to my tent and informed me that i might take the northern route to nyuku. the gova received one of our best horses for his trouble. now we had six left of our own horses, among them three veterans from leh, two other horses and a mule. next evening guffaru came for the first time to receive instructions, and on june we set out early. i stopped a moment at the grave. it was striking and imposing in all its simplicity. in its dark chamber the weary one slumbers till the end of time. he listens to the howling of the western storms and the wolves, he freezes in the cold of winter, but he does not see the summer sun, and with longing for the well-remembered past he hears the horses stamping on the hard pebbles. i thought of the lama rinpoche in his dark den at linga. farewell, and grateful thanks! chapter xl along byways to tradum the day was brilliant; it was not spring, it was summer. flies, wasps, and gadflies buzzed in the air, and worms of all kinds crept out of the ground to enjoy the warm season, all too short here. it was hot, . ° at one o'clock. the sun seemed to be as scorching as in india. the sa-chu valley widens out westwards; wild-geese, herons, and ducks sit on the banks of the river, and choughs croak on the mountain which we skirt on the right side of the valley. the fresh grass has sprouted out of the earth in its green summer garb, but it will not really thrive till after the warm rains. we meet a caravan of yaks in five sections, each with two whistling drivers. "whence have you come?" i ask. "from tabie-tsaka, where we have been to fetch salt." "where does the lake lie?" "to the north, in bongba, thirty days' journey from here." "does the road cross over high passes?" "yes, there is a high pass twelve days to the north." and then they passed on with their light-stepping yaks towards saka-dzong. it was the first time i had heard this important lake mentioned, and i envied the men of the salt caravan who had traversed this way through the trans-himalaya quite unknown to europeans. [illustration: . woman at the mouth of the chaktak-tsangpo in the tsangpo.] [illustration: . tibetan of saka.] [illustration: . lama in saka-dzong. sketches by the author.] we left the _tasam_ on our left; we turned aside north-westwards straight to the targyaling-gompa standing with its red _lhakang_, its small white buildings, and its large _chhorten_ on a terrace immediately above the spot where guffaru has pitched the camp. twenty lamas came down to find out whether we were thieves and robbers who intended to attack the convent. "certainly not," guffaru answered, "we are peaceful travellers passing the night here." "we will not allow it," they replied; "you must remain on the high-road." i now sent rabsang up, and he was surrounded at the gate by thirty monks. he was told the same; a european had never been here, and none should ever enter the monastery. if the gentlemen of the _dzong_ attempted to get us in, they should pay the penalty with their lives. charming ecclesiastics! even rabsang, who was a lamaist and wore several _gaos_ on his neck, was not allowed in. he was in the service of a european. so inimically disposed were these monks that they stopped up the channel we drew our water from. the devashung, they said, had nothing to do with them. we had heard in saka-dzong that these monks were bellicose and independent; there they had said that the free-booter who had stopped us on may must have been a disguised monk. but we could do without them and their monastery, which seemed small and unimportant. here our four puppies fell ill of a peculiar complaint: they ran about restlessly, snuffed and sneezed, had matter in their eyes, and no appetite. at night i heard one of my tent companions whine and howl, and next morning he lay dead on his rug. leaving rawling's and ryder's route to the left, we proceeded to the bank of the chaktak-tsangpo and then northwards along the river. it has a swift current, but does not form rapids; to the south is seen the portal through which it emerges from the mountains. at the village pasa-guk, which is larger than saka-dzong, we bivouacked on the right bank. the river here was feet broad, ft. in. deep at most, and carried cubic feet of water. on may it carried cubic feet, but it receives the sa-chu and other tributaries below the village pasa-guk. in the middle of the village is a _serai_ with a large store of salt in bags. here a market is held from time to time, salt being the medium of exchange. i tried to obtain further information about the country in the north, but when i compared the different data together, the result was a hopeless muddle. for instance, i asked travellers who came from tabie-tsaka, how far they marched each day, and where they passed lakes, rivers, and passes; and when i added the distances together and laid down the direction on the map, the line reached to kashgar, all through tibet and eastern turkestan! it was impossible to obtain useful data about the country to the north. i must see it with my own eyes. but how would that be possible? the hajji came to me, angry and excited, to complain that guffaru had struck him. i sat in judgment and heard evidence. the hajji had refused to watch the horses when his turn came, and the caravan bashi had therefore thrashed him. the sentence was, that the hajji should receive his discharge in nyuku. robert and i sat on the velvety grass on the bank and gazed with longing eyes at the half-clear water dancing merrily on to its destination at the coast. an old man and a youth joined us, and entertained us with dance and song. the old man danced and stamped on the ground in a three-cornered mask of goat leather with red strips and bells, and the youth sang this unintelligible song: hail, o god, god of the pass! many stars sparkle in the night. to-day is a fine day. would that rain might come! give me a bit of tea or a small coin. o, cook, give me a pinch of meal and a radish. such is the mask that is worn in the chang-tang. at the right ear a curl, neither large nor small, at the left a pin, neither large nor small; neither shade nor sun. there is a father's pin and a mother's pin. everywhere we have pins with branches, for they guard us from all dangers. the horse holds his head high, and the rider holds his head high. the gods are high, the earth is low. you have gold and silver galore. may your cattle multiply, your flocks and your property increase! may your family increase! the king of ladak sits between a golden and a silver king. now is the song ended. on june the th i left the chaktak-tsangpo to the right, unfortunately without having learnt whence it comes. we ascended a side valley named rock, in a north-westerly direction. we had previously passed two towers which had formerly been the fort of a rebellious lama. he was at feud with saka-dzong, but was defeated. in the camp at the pool churu the evening seemed to me fearfully long. home-sickness had become infectious. the ladakis sang no more, but made shoes for their children, and thereby turned their thoughts more intently to their home. i too found no rest after the day's work. if we only knew what answer the mandarins would send, but our messenger did not return. we seemed to have stumbled into a morass and to be stamping in it without moving on. oh, thou dreary, awful tibet, thou black, poor superstitious folk! in the stillness of the night the step of the camp watchman was pleasant company. after a night temperature of . ° we rode on westwards over a very flat pass, a watershed between the chaktak-tsangpo and nyuku, along a road which had once been a _tasam_; numerous ruins and _manis_ were memorials of that time. the district was thickly peopled by nomads, and black tents were often seen where sheep bleated and dogs barked; women and boys guarded the flocks, and yaks grazed on the slopes. the country calls to mind the summer pastures on the pamir. a second puppy died in the night, and was almost eaten up by ravens before morning. on june we came again to the _tasam_ at nyuku where we set up our camp. the gova of nyuku, whose friendship i had gained at saka-dzong, was very obliging, and said that i was quite at liberty to make another detour to the north, as i seemed to dislike the high-road. it would take me up to a pass, where almost all the mountains of the world could be seen, especially lumbo-gangri immediately to the north. here we should come in contact with people of the province of bongba, who perhaps would sell us all necessaries. in nyuku the third puppy died. the tibetans said that it suffered from a throat complaint called _gakpa_, which is very common in the country. mamma puppy gave herself no trouble about her little ones when they were ill, but seemed rather to avoid them. we washed them with warm water, and tended them to the best of our power, and did everything we could think of to save the last. the tibetans could not understand how we could make such a fuss about a dog. bluish-white flashes quivered over the mountains all the evening, and their outlines stood out sharp and dark in the lightning. that is a sign of the setting in of the monsoon rains on the southern flank of the himalayas, and all look forward to them. when rain falls up here, the grass grows up in a couple of days, the cattle become fat and sleek, the milk is thick and yellow; at the present time it is thin and white, and produces little butter. the existence of the nomads, and indeed the prosperity of the whole country, depends on the monsoon. it is the summer pasture which helps the herds to endure the scarcity of the rest of the year. if the rains fail, the stock languish and die. the night is silent. only occasionally is heard the hearty laugh of a girl or the bark of a dog. the camp watchman hums an air to keep himself awake. the th was a lazy day; we had to wait for tundup sonam and tashi. i always shave myself on rest days--it is pleasant to feel clean, even when there is no one to smarten oneself up for. robert shot three wild-geese, and caught two yellow goslings which walked into his tent and made hay there. we put them in the crystal-clear men-chu river, hoping that some kindly goose-mamma would take to them. from here it is said to be only four days' journey to a district in nepal, where there are fir-woods. just fancy: fir-wood as in sweden and in simla! but we must remain in this dreary land. just as we were starting on the following day the hajji, islam ahun, and gaffar came to me, and demanded exemption from night duty and separate rations if they were to stay with me. i called all the other men together, and asked if any one else would join them now that they were to be dismissed. but no one wished to. our hajji, the only one of the mohammedans who had been in mecca--had indeed been twice there--was the only rascal in the caravan. he had instigated the others. in my experience mecca pilgrims are always scoundrels. the hajji declared that he preferred robbers and tramps on the road to guffaru and the other ladakis. the three men vanished from sight as we marched north-westwards up the valley of the men-chu. in camp no. , on june , i held a grand reception, for some chiefs from the direction of bongba came to visit me, and our old friend, the gova of tradum, arrived. they decided that i might ride a short distance to the north, but only on condition that i came back the same day. so on the th we rode on fresh hired horses up to the kilung-la, where the view was instructive and showed the lie of the land. before us was the dark lumbo-gangri with its deep wild valleys and steep cliffs, its small glacier tongues and caps of eternal snow. the men of the district said that the mountain was holy, and was a kind of portal or forecourt to the kang-rinpoche, the celebrated pilgrimage mountain near the sources of the indus. behind lumbo-gangri are the valley and river of the rukyok-tsangpo, which flows to the chaktak-tsangpo. it was now clear to me that these summits, of which bearings were taken by ryder and wood, could not lie on the watershed of the rivers flowing to the ocean. but no one knew the true aspect of the country farther north, and the bongba men had been ordered to stop us if we tried to force our way in that direction. i could not by entreaties or threats obtain more than the view from the kilung-la. the further we proceeded westwards the more of the blank space on the map was left behind us. that was exceedingly annoying, but my hopes were still fixed on the chinese letters from lhasa. on the morning of the th all the mountains were covered with snow, but the day was warm and fine as we rode up to the serchung-la, and saw to the south-west the northernmost crest of the himalayas and the broad valley of the brahmaputra. the valley descending from the pass is full of brushwood and drifting sand, which is piled up in dunes to a height of nearly feet. after an interesting and successful march we came to the valley junction dambak-rong. but the day was not yet over. we heard that nazer shah's son had arrived the day before at tradum on his way to ladak with twenty-two mules. a messenger was therefore despatched to ask him to wait for us, and give us tidings of tundup sonam and tashi. the gova of tradum also rode home to get all in order against our arrival. a short time passed by, and then a horseman came up at a smart trot from the serchung valley. he had evidently followed our track; he rode straight to my tent, dismounted, and handed me a letter with a large seal, bearing the words, "imperial chinese mission, tibet," and the same in chinese characters. now our fate would be settled. the ladakis crowded round my tent. i perceived that they hoped we should be obliged to return by the direct road to ladak. they longed for home, and were not inspired by the same interests as myself. the tension was extreme as i opened the letter. it was dated at lhasa on june , and had been fourteen days on the way. it was written in faultless english by ho tsao hsing, first secretary to h. e. chang (tang darin), and ran as follows: dear dr. hedin--your letter to his excellency chang dated the th may was duly received. knowing that you have arrived at raka-tatsang, that devashung hindered you to proceed forward. his excellency is very sorry to hear such occurrence; and he instructed me to write you the following:-- that in his excellency's last letter to you he wrote you to return by the way you came; and now he does not understand why you are taking another road contrary to what he wrote you, consequently, you have met with such inconveniences, to which his excellency regrets very much indeed. his excellency has, now, again ordered devashung and officials along the way to give you all possible protection and comfort, but he sincerely wishing you _not_ to change your direction to the n.w., where both the country and people are wild [i wonder how he could know that], and that accidents might happen, which his excellency can hardly bear any responsibility. therefore, his excellency wishes you only to return by the way as you came, not to venture in other directions. his excellency gives his best regards to you and wishing you a happy and safe return.--i am yours very truly, ho tsao hsing. [illustration: , , , . tibetan boys and girls of saka and tradum. sketches by the author.] that was all i got by the stratagem which had cost us so much loss of time. a positive prohibition to proceed north-westwards to the land of my dreams. now the devashung would issue fresh orders, and we should be watched more closely than ever. now the iron gates would be closed again from the south, and the way to the forbidden land barred. tang darin was as immovable as the state secretary for india, lord morley. but he stimulated my ambition, and for that i have to thank him. to begin with, we seized the copy of our passport, which was to be transferred from gova to gova all along the road. but not yet had this fateful day come to a close. at sunset came tundup sonam and tashi, dusty and ragged, with their bundles on their backs. "welcome and well done, rupees each and new suits of clothes is your reward. what news?" no letters, but only a note from ma that he had forwarded my letters to lhasa, and sent a letter from gulam kadir to muhamed isa. they had reached shigatse in eleven days, and had rested there three days. then they had set out from tashi-lunpo directly westwards. they made a fast and long march on the first day, and climbed up to the pass ta-la at sunset, where nine highwaymen, two with guns and the others with swords, fell upon them and threw them to the ground. the two guns were set on their rests and the barrels pointed to the men's heads, the seven swords were drawn, and one of the robbers said: "if you value your lives, hand out everything of value you have." frightened out of their wits, the two ladakis begged them to take all they wanted if they would only spare their lives. the nine robbers then opened their bundles and thoroughly plundered them, taking even their little _gaos_ and images, as well as their cooking utensils and rupees in silver. they were allowed to keep the clothes they had on their backs. by pure chance the robbers had overlooked a small packet of _tengas_, which tundup sonam had put at the back of his girdle. the robbers cleared them out in a minute, and then disappeared into the mountains. our two defeated heroes remained weeping on the battle-field till dark, and then they went off very slowly at first, turning round frequently and fancying they saw a robber in every shadow, but afterwards they quickened their pace almost to a run. deadly tired, they crept under two boulders by the wayside, and next morning came to three black tents, where they got food, and were told that a lama had been robbed and stripped naked on the ta-la two days before. but now they were safe, and it was touching to see how delighted they were to be with us again. they had seen muhamed isa's grave, and the conversation about it reminded tsering of his sorrow. on june we travel across open country to tradum, our route following the northern side of the valley while the _tasam_ runs along the southern. the ground was sandy. small irritating horseflies buzz in the nostrils of the horses and drive them frantic. they walk with their noses on the ground like the wild asses to escape the flies. to the right is the tuto-pukpa, a mountain to which corpses are carried on yaks from tradum to be cut up. we ride between pools where wild-geese are plentiful with their pretty yellow goslings. at a projecting rock, cairns and streamer poles are set up; the wall of rock is black, but all the side facing the road is painted red--"ah, this is blood on balder's sacrificial stone." here the village of tradum can be seen, its temple and its _chhorten_ on a hill. to the south-west the dark snow-crowned rampart of the himalayas appears, wild, grand, and precipitous. to the south-east lies the _tasam_, a light winding riband, and our path runs into it; it is feet broad between grass-grown terraces of sand; it is the great trunk-road of tibet. we had scarcely set up our camp when the discharged hajji and his two companions came up and salaamed. but i was angry, and drove them away. i afterwards heard that they wept, and i was heartily sorry that i had been so unkind. but it was too late, for they were seen tramping out wearily into the steppe when the shades of evening fell. the monastery tradum-gompa is subject to tashi-lunpo, and its five monks live on the produce of their sheep and yaks, and carry on trade with nepal. round the temple are eight _chhortens_, and in the _lhakang_, the hall of the gods, the immortal son of sakya is enthroned between the eleven-headed, six-armed avalokitesvara and other deities. on a small hill of schist above the convent is a hermit's dwelling, where there is a splendid view over the brahmaputra valley and the tsa-chu-tsangpo as it emerges from the mountains. here died our fourth puppy, which i had hoped to keep as a remembrance of shigatse. mamma puppy had now her mat to herself, and outside the tents lay the two black dogs from ngangtse-tso. the gova of tradum was an excellent, genial rogue, and had a thorough contempt for the devashung. he would not let me follow up the tsa-chu valley, but made no objection to an excursion to the kore-la pass, two days' journey off to the south-west, and belonging to the himalayan range which is the watershed between the ganges and the brahmaputra. he also let us hire six horses, and gave us two guides for the journey, which was to be commenced on the morning of june . the first night we were to encamp at the spot where the tsa-chu-tsangpo enters the upper brahmaputra. i rode south-south-west with my usual retinue over grassy steppe and sand-dunes. in front of us were three wanderers with bundles on their backs and staves in their hands. when we overtook them they stopped, came forward, and laid their foreheads on the ground at my feet. it was the hajji and the two other men. i was glad of the opportunity of taking them into favour again. for the future they were to follow our yaks. the camp was pitched on the right bank of the river, at the foot of the hill crowned by the ruins of the old liktse monastery. here an important trade-road crosses the river and a ferry maintains communication between the banks. the tsa-chu river had here a breadth of ½ yards, and a depth of barely inches, while the brahmaputra was yards broad by ¾ feet deep, and was much more imposing than farther down. the absolute height was , feet. it was not easy to carry the rope across the stream, for a strong south-west gale was blowing and the waves were high. robert rowed out from the right bank with the rope, and from the left some ladakis waded out as far as they could in the shallow, slowly deepening, water to catch the end thrown to them and secure it on shore. when at last we had stretched the rope across, it broke with the pressure of the wind and the waves, and the work had to be done again. we noted a temperature of . ° in the air and of . ° in the water, but the men were so chilled by the wind that they had to make a good fire. it also rained heavily--the first rain we had had since we left ladak--and thunder rolled among the mountains. for the first time the minimum temperature in the night, . °, was above freezing-point, and the morning was beautiful after the storm: the sky was only half covered with bright summer clouds, not a breath of air stirred, and the surface of the river was smooth as a mirror, only slightly broken by slowly moving whirlpools. the ferry was already plying across with passengers and goods. the ferryman is paid a _tenga_ for each passage, and he crosses over twice in the hour. our horses and yaks were made to swim over the river after they had grazed at night on the steppes on the left bank. [illustration: . woman of nyuku.] [illustration: . two tibetans.] [illustration: . the gova of tuksum.] [illustration: . girl at pasa-guk. sketches by the author.] we rode ½ miles on the st, but first paid a visit to the little liktse-gompa monastery, which stands on the inner side of the hill, and therefore has not the fine view obtained from the old ruined monastery on the summit. from its window-openings the monks could watch the oscillating life of the river during the various seasons of the year: its slow fall in spring; its rise during summer, when volumes of turbid water come down from melting snowfields and glaciers; its decline in autumn, and the freezing of the river in the cold of winter. and they could see the breaking-up of the ice in spring, and the great clattering slabs dancing down the current. but now the prospect before the eyes of the ten monks is only a wretched loamy valley between barren hills, for their convent lies apart from all roads. liktse-gompa is a dependency of sera, but receives no support from it, and possesses no herds. the profits from the ferry are the only revenue of the monks. the abbot, punjun dung, with a red turban and a grey beard, showed me the gods in the _lhakang_, buddha, padma sambhava, etc. among the usual sacred objects on the altar were two human skulls converted into drinking vessels, one of them lined with silver. in the courtyard the holy dog was chained up. then we mounted and rode off quickly. we perceived at once that this road is much frequented. on the steppe and in open soft valley bottoms it is less clearly marked, for there every one marches where he likes; but over passes and on spurs with hard stone the tracks converge from all sides, and there the road has been trodden down and worn in the course of centuries. on the small pass tsasa-la we met a large caravan laden with barley. "where have you come from?" i ask. "from mundang in the country of lo gapu." mundang is marked on the english maps of nepal, but who was lo gapu, "the king of the southern land"? it sounded so grand. the next pass is called dorab-la, and from the top we see the chockar-shung-chu, a broad valley with a brook draining partly from the kore-la, and flowing to the brahmaputra. while we are resting, guffaru passes with his black baggage-train in close order, a troop of laden yaks, whistling and singing tibetans, and some ladakis with our own horses as a rearguard. they soon disappear in the dust of the road, two of our men resting a while in a cleft to take a puff or two from their weather-worn narghilés. from this point they march westwards to the rendezvous, while we continue southwards. in the valley leading up to the ngurkung-la a large salt caravan on the way to nepal was encamped. the twelve leaders had piled up a fine shelter of sacks of salt against the violent wind. we then came to the very broad valley which ascends to the saddle of the pass visible in the south. we rode up for hours, though the ascent was not noticeable, but the wind was dead against us. to the right is the water-parting chain of the himalayas which we had seen from tradum. a curious, sharply outlined cloud, like a white torpedo, covered it, and from the northern extremity small fleecy flakes parted from time to time and floated away. we camped near some black tents in a side valley close to the extraordinarily flat pass. chapter xli a peep into nepal it was on june that i stood on the platform of the kore-la pass and gave a stolen glance into nepal, and tried to get a glimpse of dhaulagiri peak, , feet high. but the morning was dull, heavy clouds lay like pillows on the earth, and nothing could be seen of the surrounding mountains. "we must wait till it clears," was the only order i could give. but just then a milk-girl came from a camp of tents which was near at hand. the people were nepalese subjects, but were camping on the tibetan side. the girl said that it was only a short day's journey to the nearest permanent dwellings and gardens, and two days' journey to lo gapu's summer residence. then we thought: "we may as well ride down the southern side of the pass as stay up here in the wind." no sooner said than done! the tents are folded up, the animals laden, we mount and ride along the eastern side of the valley up to the kore-la, which from the tibetan side little resembles a pass, for to the eye the grass-grown on unfruitful loose ground seems quite level. of the snowy mountains on the western side of the valley only the dark base is visible; layers of clouds lie close above the earth; one feels as though one could push one's head against the roof. a ruined house, where perhaps a frontier guard once dwelt, a couple of long _manis_, and loose blocks of conglomerate stand on the top. a caravan comes up from nebuk in the bottom of the valley. we look round in vain for the actual watershed, and find it only by noticing rivulets running together and flowing southwards. here we light a fire and take observations. the view is marvellous, at any rate a relief such as we have not seen for a long time. the mighty snowy mountains to the south, which yesterday broke through the clouds, are, indeed, obscured, but our valleys fall steeply and unite into a large valley, in the depths of which grassy plots and fields shine in deep spring verdure amid the everlasting grey, yellow, and red landscape. down below the sun is shining, and behind us the sky is clear above the brahmaputra valley, while here and round all the snowy mountains float opaque clouds. from the saddle lying west of our point of vantage innumerable valleys radiate out; the surface of the ridges between them is nearly level, or dips gently to the south-east, while the valleys are deeply cut in like cañons, and the promontories at the meeting of the valleys are broken short off. perhaps some of the nearest peaks of the himalayas rise like islands above the sea of clouds, for here and there a reflexion from sun-lighted firn-fields seems to be trying to break through the veil of clouds (illust. ). [illustration: . view from the kore-la towards the south-west.] we stand on the frontier between tibet and nepal. behind us to the north we have the flat, level land on the southern bank of the tsangpo. we have mounted only feet from the river to the kore-la, where the height is , feet. and from the pass there is a headlong descent to the kali gandak, an affluent of the ganges. by means of a canal cut through the kore-la the brahmaputra might be turned into the ganges. northern india needs water for irrigation, but the gain would perhaps be small, for the brahmaputra in assam would be as much diminished as the ganges was increased. tibet would lose by the change, and a number of villages on the kali gandak would be swept away. a new road would be opened for the invasion of india from the north, and therefore on the whole it is perhaps best for all parties concerned to leave things as they are. but the changes here indicated will some time come to pass without artificial aid, for the tentacles of the kali gandak are eating back northwards into the mountains much more quickly than the tsangpo is eroding its valley. some time or other, perhaps in a hundred thousand years, the ganges system will have extended its tentacles to the bank of the tsangpo, and then will be formed a bifurcation which, in the course of time, will bring about a total revolution in the proportions of the two rivers and their drainage areas. now we are in nepal and go on foot down the declivities. here little has been done to improve the road. occasionally an awkward block of granite has been rolled away, leaving a gap in the breastwork; in other respects the caravan traffic has done most for the road, wearing it down. it is easy and pleasant to go down southwards towards denser air; it becomes warmer, and we breathe more easily; the verdure increases, and flowers of different colours make the grass gay. we try to forget that we must toil up all these slopes again; let us go down, down, to enjoy a summer life, if only for twenty-four hours, and forget dreary tibet. an hour ago the wind blew icy cold on the pass, and now we feel the soft zephyrs gently caressing the heights. robert takes in deep draughts of the tepid air and fancies he hears a whispered welcome to india; tsering and rabsang become lively and contented, and i muse over a visit to the king of the southland. three horsemen rode slowly up the ascent. two of them were turning their prayer-mills. they looked astonished. we asked whence they came and whither they were going. they were going to the tent village on the plateau. when they were told who we were, in answer to their question, they dismounted and begged pardon for not greeting us at first. i readily forgave them, for i looked like a ragged tramp. they advised us to pass the night in one of the houses of lo gapu, and invited us to visit them in their tent village on our way back. the gradient becomes less steep, and we come to an expansion where three valleys meet, the kungchuk-kong, which we have followed, in the middle, the pama on the east, and the damm on the west. from the damm valley only comes a small gushing brook. we pass along the right side of the united valley. on the same side a very large valley opens, the yamchuk-pu, with an irrigation channel running down from its brook to the villages and fields below. in the village yamchuk we come to the first houses and trees. on the left side of the valley lies a large monastery with avenues of trees and long rows of _manis_; it is called gubuk-gompa. fields, grassy patches, and bushes become more numerous. then comes a succession of villages on the left side of the valley, which is barely ½ furlongs broad. below the side valley gurkang-pu, on the left, pebble beds stand in perpendicular walls with numerous caves and grottos. these are apparently used as dwellings, for they are connected with the houses and walls in front of them. lower down we come to the village nebuk, among gardens. the architecture is of the usual tibetan style, white and red masonry, flat roofs, and decorations of streamer poles. the vegetation becomes more luxuriant and the fields larger. we frequently pass ruined walls and towers, perhaps relics of the time when nepal was at feud with tibet. now the densely peopled and well-tilled valley has a peaceful aspect, and no frontier guards hinder our advance. the usual _manis_ lie along the road, and a large red _chhorten_ or _stupa_ has a touch of the indian style. below three villages lying close together the valley contracts slightly. near a lonely house we encamped in a lovely garden, with fine green trees, among waving cornfields. a woman told us that this place, called nama-shu, belonged to lo gapu, and that no one might stay in the garden without his permission. however, we established ourselves there, and inhaled with delight the mild dense air, and heard the wind rustling through the tree-tops. soon two men appeared, who were in the service of lo gapu, asking for information about us. they said that we were in the district tso, and that the river was called tso-kharki-tsangpo. a village we can see just below our camp was named nyanyo, and from there mentang, the residence of lo gapu, could be reached by crossing only two spurs of the mountains, he, they said, was a frontier chief, who paid no tribute to the maharaja of nepal, but was obliged to pay a visit to his highness every fifth year. he had subjects. the people for three days farther south were lamaists and spoke a tibetan dialect, in which, however, many indian and persian words were incorporated. when one of the men had obtained all the information he desired, he rode down the valley to make his report to the frontier chief. meanwhile we held a consultation. i had only robert, tsering, rabsang, and two tibetans with me, and our funds consisted of only rupees. the temptation was great to wander a few days more southwards through the wild deep valleys of the himalayas. here, in the nama-shu camp, we were at a height of , feet, and therefore feet lower than the kore-la. every day's journey southwards would bring us into a denser atmosphere, and even now we were not far from shady coniferous woods. but would it be prudent to advance further into nepal? we were much puzzled, and considered the matter from all sides. our money would not last more than two days. our horses belonged to the gova of tradum, and we had agreed with him that we would only take a look into nepal from the kore-la, and now we had crossed the boundary and descended into a land where our position was less secure than in tibet. we might fall into a trap before we were aware of it. lo gapu might arrest us and ask for orders from khatmandu. the greatest danger, however, was that the tibetans might close the frontier and render our return impossible, and then say that now we had left their country we might not enter again. and then we should be cut off from the main caravan, and all the results of my journey would be endangered. i therefore decided to turn back early next morning before lo gapu's men had time to come up and arrest us. the evening was fine and long, and we enjoyed it thoroughly under the rustling of the thickly foliaged trees. i felt perfectly comfortable and breathed freely: the heart had not to labour so heavily as on the chang-tang; it worked for hours together without an effort; our feet were warm, and we slept as we had seldom done. for in the chang-tang if one sleeps even eight hours one does not feel rested and refreshed on rising; one does not derive the proper benefit from sleep. here we experienced a thoroughly comfortable feeling after our night's rest, and our only disappointment came from the clouds, which concealed the summits of the himalayas to the south and south-south-west. only now and then the peaks looked forth for a minute. on june we mounted our horses again. we had heard no word of lo gapu. when the messenger had left us he was convinced that we should continue our way down the valley, and the little potentate was perhaps now expecting our arrival. he might wait! we rode slowly up to the kore-la, left our old road to the right, and camped at kung-muga. i was sitting at my drawing when a horseman came clanking up. he held in his hand a green flag, a messenger's badge among the chinese and tibetans. i felt sure that he had some connection with strict measures against us, but found that he was only the bearer of a proclamation from lhasa to all the stations as far as gartok, that horses and baggage animals should be supplied to two chinamen who had been despatched to find me out and talk with me, and convey to me a letter from his excellency, lien darin. they might be expected any moment. midsummer day was as dull as possible. the whole country was buried in impenetrable fog, and even the adjoining tents were invisible. and when it had cleared a little, the mountains were still concealed. we rode north-westwards on an excellent road, and were astonished at the numerous _manis_ with their close, fine, raised inscriptions on purple and dark-green schist; other prayer stones had characters . or . inches high, while the largest characters were nearly inches high, so that there was only room for one character on each slab. then six slabs were placed in a row to spell out the sacred formula, "om mani padme hum." on some votive stones the characters were red, cut out in round pieces of granite with a white underlayer. the largest _mani_ was feet long. [illustration: . gulam razul's tents in gartok.] [illustration: . landscape in upper nepal. view looking south from camp , nepal.] we passed encampments with large herds; wild asses grazed along with tame yaks. all the men we met halted and saluted us. the gova of tradum came to meet us; he pulled a very solemn face, and wondered whether lo gapu would be angry at our visit to nepal. we reached bando, near the small lake tsotot-karpo, over the small saddle tasang-la, and found guffaru waiting for us with the caravan. on the th we made a short march up to chikum, whence the tsotot-karpo is still visible. we had only provisions for one day, but the gova of tradum offered to procure more if we would pay well for the horses we had to hire. he had no fear, he said, of the chinese who were coming; if they scolded him for allowing us to travel on the south bank of the tsangpo, he would reply that it was easier to supply us with provisions there than on the north side. he had formerly been a lama in tashi-gembe, but had lost his heart to a lady. to hush up the affair he had started on a pilgrimage to kang-rinpoche, but was caught and forbidden to return. then he had gradually worked his way up, and was now chief of tradum, and was just as great a rascal in secular life as he had been in the religious life. however, he rendered us good service. the view from our elevated camp was magnificent. when the full moon had risen up in the sky the small lake shone like a silver blade. the sun had left only an afterglow on the western horizon, but the whole plain of the brahmaputra and the mountains of chang-tang in the north were clearly defined in dull clear shades, which left all the finer details indistinguishable. a cloud with bright, silvery, white margins floated before the moon. a little to the right another cloud caught a reflexion of the sun, and showed golden margins. they were the angels of night and day fighting for supremacy. soon night had won the victory, and now the moon cast a bright path over the lake, while all around was involved in a general mist. when day had resumed its sway we rode in the morning air through swarms of flies, stinging gnats, and horseflies up over the tagu-la and down the tambak valley. to the west the most northerly chain of the himalayas made a magnificent display, and to the north-west lay the broad open valley of the brahmaputra, the river winding along the middle like a blue riband. this evening, too, the return of night called forth a brilliant play of colours and tone-effects. light, restless, motionless to the eye, but riven by the upper winds like old prayer-streamers on a pass, the clouds sailed at sunset in the vault of heaven. the moon, the friend of all nocturnal wanderers and sleepers in the open air, illumines the surroundings of our tents, among which the blue smoke of the camp-fires lies like a veil over the ground. the yaks stand still as shadows, and now and then their teeth are heard grinding against the cartilaginous process of the upper jaw. the tradum gova and his servants hum their evening prayer and rattle their prayer-mills. in the morning comes a quickly passing shower and another before noon. we notice all the signs of the sky, and wish for rain as much as the tibetans, not on our own account, but for the light-footed antelopes, the wild asses, and the mountain sheep. the clouds are blue-black over the mountains to the south, and from them hang down elegantly curved fringes and draperies heavy with rain. one can hear in imagination the drops splashing on the stones, and new-born torrents rushing down the valleys. the trifling rain that has fallen in our neighbourhood can only moisten the ground for a short time. the drops made a pleasant sound as they pelted on the tradum gova's umbrella and on my curzon hat. thunder rolled heavily and solemnly round about in the mountains, like an echo of the trumpet of the last judgment. [illustration: . a chhorten in nepal.] [illustration: . group of tibetan women.] then we cross the nerung-tsangpo, come out into the great valley plain of the brahmaputra, and encamp in a country inhabited by numbers of nomads. the gova of nagor was a tall, agreeable man, who procured us _tsamba_, _chang_, and goose eggs--a pleasant change from our perpetual diet of mutton. robert and shukkur ali caught fish. the gova told me that his parents, who belonged to kham, had made a pilgrimage to the kang-rinpoche and had left their little son behind, either by mistake or on purpose. the youngster had grown up in the tents of the wild nomads, and now, though a stranger, had become the chief of the district. on the morning of the th we rode up to namla-gompa, on a rocky prominence, where the view was extensive and instructive. at the eastern foot of the projecting mountain lies the village namla, a few poor stone cabins, and here the river pung-chu, flowing out of the lake ujam-tso, enters the plain. the monastery contains some images of gilded bronze, and seven monks, of whom one, a man of sixty-six, has lived fifty years within its walls. they are poor and have to beg, but they receive freewill offerings from the nomads living in the neighbourhood. across a plain of cracked loamy soil, which is flooded at high water, we gain our camp on the bank of the tsangpo; the river looks like a lake, and that this is also the case in late autumn is shown in ryder's remarkably conscientiously drawn and accurate map. the breadth here is yards broad, and the maximum depth only . feet. it may, therefore, be easily waded, and the yak caravan marches quietly through the water. how different it is farther east, where the river, hemmed in between steep mountains, is deep and tumultuous! in late summer it cannot be waded here, and even a boat dare not venture over because of the treacherous, shifting sand-banks. during our measurements the ladakis went across the river, measuring the breadth with poles and ropes, and held the boat still while i investigated the velocity of the current. when the work was finished, rehim ali began to carry robert to the bank, but he slipped on the smooth, clayey bottom, and both took an involuntary bath, causing all the rest of us to laugh heartily. next day the fragile baggage was conveyed across in a boat, and the rest on hired yaks, which tramped through the turbid dirty-grey water. on the northern bank we ride through peculiar country. here are lakes and swamps, caused by arms of the river, and lying amid a collection of sandhills as much as feet high. we try all directions to avoid sandhills and deep creeks, and frequently ride straight through basins with yielding ground; in some there is a slight current, while others are stagnant. here and there islets of sand rise out of the water, some barren, others with grass and stalks. it is a thoroughly disintegrated country, but full of pleasing variety. gnats pursue us in regular clouds. some men go in front to pilot us. we often get into deep water and have to turn back. the high water washes away the greater part of the driftsand, and deposits it on the banks of the brahmaputra lower down. but when the river falls, fresh sand accumulates and forms new dunes. the driftsand therefore finds a resting-place here on its way to the east. we encamped by the last lagoon, and heard the fishes splashing in the water. the whole country reminds me of lob, the swampy region in eastern turkestan, and the continual struggle there between driftsand and flowing water. the district is named dongbo, and here the gova of tuksum and other chiefs awaited us. the first-named had heard that the chinamen, of whose coming we had been informed, had left saka-dzong and were on their way hither. he expected that they would arrive before evening. on june we made most of our march along the _tasam_, on which nain sing and the english expedition had travelled; for i durst not pass round tuksum, which was mentioned on my passport. the greater part of the way runs among fine, regular, crescent-shaped dunes, which move eastwards over the plain before the prevailing wind. they are ephemeral phenomena: they live and die, but are always replaced by others. the horns of the crescent protrude far in the direction of the wind, and the slope is very steep on the windward side, as much as degrees, while on the sheltered side it is as steep as the falling sand will allow. ganju-gompa stands on an isolated hill to the west of the ganju-la. it is subordinate to the brebung monastery, and has a _lhakang_ with twelve pillars and four rows of divans, as well as four large drums. the statues of the gods look down with gentle smiles on the homage paid to them by nomads and travellers. only five monks and as many dogs live in ganju. the whole population of tuksum came out to meet us before their village. it was agreed with the gova that guffaru and the main caravan should proceed to shamsang, while i with a couple of attendants travelled by forbidden roads on the south side of the river. in the evening a deputation of ladakis came to wait on me with the request that they should be allowed to give a feast in honour of muhamed isa, to be paid for out of his outstanding pay. but i thought this a little too cool, seeing that the money belonged to the widow of the deceased. they might have a feast, however, at my own expense, but there would be nothing but mutton, _chang_, and tea. on the morning of july i had another application, this time from five young beggar girls, ragged and black, with bundles in frames of wood on their backs, and large pilgrims' staves in their hands. they had been, like so many others, at the kang-rinpoche, and reckoned it a year's journey to their home in kham. they beg their way from tent to tent. it must be a serious burden to the nomads to maintain the numerous pilgrims that pass along this road. we said good-bye to guffaru and his followers on july , and riding in a south-westerly direction over the plain, set up our camp on the left bank of the brahmaputra, which here carried down cubic feet of water. next morning the baggage was taken over, and we had also the honour of helping over the river a high lama, whose acquaintance i had made in tashi-lunpo. he wore a yellow robe with a red mantle, and had a small yellow wooden hat as bright as metal. his servants were armed with guns and swords, and took all their baggage over the river on yaks. but, unfortunately, the yaks got into deep water and began to swim, so that, of course, all their baggage was thoroughly soaked. we also helped a shepherd with some lambs over to the other side, and if we had waited longer we might have done a ferryman's work all day with our boat (illusts. , ). then we crossed over two other arms, and the total discharge of the brahmaputra at this place proved to be cubic feet. the figures, however, obtained on gauging the river so near its source, are of inferior value, especially when the melting of the snow has quite set in, partly because the source streams rise towards evening, carrying the water from the day's thaw down to the main valley, partly because the volume of water depends to a great extent on the weather. at the first downpour of rain the rivers are little affected, for the water is absorbed by the dry soil; but when this is soaked through, the water runs off, and the rivers swell enormously after a single rainy day. when the sky is overcast without rain they fall, but in quite clear weather the sun thaws the snow and causes the rivers to rise again. it was a long day's journey, for in many of the tents the people refused to give us the help we wanted, and therefore we passed on to the great tributary gyang-chu, which comes from the south and receives many streams from the northernmost range of the himalayas. i have no time to give an account of the geography of this region on the south side of the brahmaputra. i will only say that during the following days we were cut off from the main river by low mountains, and that we did not encamp again on its bank till july , when we came to the cherok district. we had left several tributaries behind us, and the main stream carried only cubic feet of water. after another short day's march we rejoined guffaru's party in shamsang ( , feet) on the great high-road, where twenty-one tents were now standing. the chiefs of the neighbourhood were very attentive, and did not say a word against my proposal to go up to kubi-gangri, which shows its snowy peaks to the south-west, and in which the sources of the brahmaputra were said to lie. they procured us provisions for twelve days, and we had not had so free a hand for some time. here nothing had been heard of chinese or tibetan pursuers from lhasa. [illustration: . women in the village of namla.] [illustration: . inhabitants of the village of namla.] chapter xlii in search of the source of the brahmaputra now we were already far to the west; the force of circumstances had forced us to leave behind us step by step ever larger areas of unknown country to the north. i was vexed, but i would, at any rate, endeavour to do all that was possible in my hampered condition. at shamsang, ryder's lahtsang, we were at the place where the actual source streams of the brahmaputra converged from various directions. i had long determined to push on to the unknown source, unless the tibetans placed unsurmountable obstacles in my way. the learned and clear-sighted colonel montgomerie had sent nain sing in the year up the valley of the upper brahmaputra (illust. ). from our shamsang the pundit crossed the marium-la, and said in his report that the sources of the river were certainly in the huge chain seen in the south, and were fed by its glaciers. he did not, however, go to look for the actual sources, but continued his journey westwards. the next year, , thomas webber made an excursion into tibetan territory, and his route lay a little to the south of nain sing's. on his sketch-map it may be seen that he crossed some of the source streams of the tsangpo, but of the tract in which the sources are situated he gives no further indication than "snowy ranges unexplored." and when he says in his text that here are the sources of the great brahmaputra, which have their origin in the gurla glaciers, the confusion is hopeless; for the sources of the river lie miles from gurla, a mountain which has nothing whatever to do with the brahmaputra. the political expedition which, under the command of rawling in the close of the year , had gartok for its destination, and the chief result of which was the admirable map of the upper brahmaputra valley surveyed by ryder and his assistants (map ), travelled from shamsang over the marium-la and north of the gunchu-tso to manasarowar. it was therefore of the greatest importance to me to travel to the south of their route through country they had not touched on. they travelled by the same road as nain sing, and left the source of the river at a distance of miles to the south. from ryder's report it might be supposed that he considered the marium-la to be the cradle of the brahmaputra; but in a letter i have recently received from him, he states that such is not the case, but that he always recognized that the actual source must lie among the mountains in the south-west, which he has set down on his map from bearings taken of their peaks. ryder also remarks in his report that the principal headwaters come from there. instead of entering into a diffuse discussion of the problem, i introduce in this book small sketches of the maps of my three predecessors, nain sing, webber, and ryder. no other traveller had ever been in this region, and i would on no account miss the opportunity of penetrating to the actual source of the brahmaputra and fixing its position definitely. how was this to be done? at shamsang the source streams meet, and below this point the united river bears the name martsang-tsangpo. first of all, i must, of course, gauge the quantities of water in the source streams, and, if they were nearly equal, we must be content to say that the brahmaputra has several sources. with ten men, the boat, and the necessary measuring apparatus, i betook myself first, on july , to the point on the southern side of the valley where two streams run together, the kubi-tsangpo from the south-west and the chema-yundung from the west. a short day's march farther west the chema-yundung receives the marium-chu, which comes from the marium-la. first the united stream was gauged, and found to discharge cubic feet of water per second, and immediately after the chema-yundung, which discharged almost cubic feet. subtracting this from the volume of the united river, we get cubic feet as the discharge of the kubi-tsangpo. this river is then three and a half times as large as the chema, and it should be remembered that the chema also receives the water of the marium-chu, so that its cubic feet represent the united volumes of two tributaries. when we encamped in the evening with the main caravan in the umbo district ( , feet), where the chema-yundung and the marium-chu unite, the rivers were very considerably swollen, and the water, which had been clear in the morning, had become turbid. therefore only the two measurements taken at the same time were directly comparable, and i will pass over all the subsequent measurements. to arrive at the source we had only to know that the kubi-tsangpo is far larger than the two others, so we had to follow its course up into the mountains, which none of my predecessors had done. the tibetans also said that the kubi was the upper course of the martsang-tsangpo. on july we parted from guffaru and the main caravan, which was to keep to the great high-road and cross the marium-la to tokchen, while robert and i with three ladakis and three armed tibetans followed the kubi-tsangpo up to its source. our way ran west-south-west. where we crossed the chema-yundung, a good distance above the last delta arms of the marium-chu, the river carried little more than cubic feet of water, and therefore the kubi-tsangpo, flowing to the south-east of it, is here fully eight times as large. at the ford our tibetans drove a peg with a white rag into the edge of the bank, and when i asked why, they answered: "that the river may not become tired of carrying its water down the valleys." at tok-jonsung, where we bivouacked among some black tents, the chema looked very large, but its water ran very slowly. the nomads of the district go up to the chang-tang in winter. here also we heard, as on many former occasions, that smallpox was raging frightfully in purang, and that all the roads leading thither were closed. no country lies so high that the angel of death cannot reach it. in the night the thermometer fell to . °, but we were at a height of , feet. the snowy mountains in front of us to the south-west became more distinct. the chema river meandered with a slow fall, and we left it on the right before we came to our camp in sheryak. [illustration: . lama in my boat.] [illustration: . loading the boat with boxes on crossing the brahmaputra.] we ride on july on to the south-west in a strong wind, passing already porous, melting snowdrifts. solid rock is not to be seen, but all the detritus consists of granite and green schist. we follow a clearly marked nomad path, leading up to the small pass tso-niti-kargang on the ridge which forms a watershed between the chema-yundung and the kubi-tsangpo. the large valley of the latter is below us to the south. the water of the kubi-tsangpo is very muddy, but on the right bank is a perfectly clear moraine lake. from the south-east the affluent lung-yung flows out of its deeply cut valley. the view is grand on all sides. from north-west to north-east extends a confused sea of mountains, the crests and ramifications of the trans-himalaya, intersected by the northern tributaries of the upper tsangpo. to the south we have a panorama magnificent and overpowering in its fascinating wildness and whiteness, an irregular chain of huge peaks, sharp, black, and fissured, sometimes pointed like pyramids, sometimes broad and rounded, and behind them we see firn-fields from which the snow slides down to form glaciers among the dark rocks. prominent in the south is the elevation ngomo-dingding, and from its glaciers the kubi-tsangpo derives a considerable part of its water. to the west-south-west lies the dongdong, another mass with glaciers equally extensive, and to the right of it are heights called chema-yundung-pu, from which the river of the same name takes its rise, and flows down circuitously to the confluence at shamsang. to the south-east the position of the nangsa-la is pointed out to me beyond the nearest mountains, where the river gyang-chu, which we came across a few days before, has its source. we go down among moraines, granite detritus, and boulders. here three small clear moraine pools, called tso-niti, lie at different heights. the ground becomes more level, and we pass a _mani_, a rivulet trickling among the rubbish, and a small pond, before we reach camp in lhayak, on the bank of the kubi-tsangpo, where the pasturage is excellent and we find numerous traces of nomad camps. in several places we come across large sheets of fine thin birch bark, which have been detached by storms and carried by the wind over the mountains from the south. our three musketeers told us that all the nomads now sojourning in the shamsang district would come up here in a few weeks to stay a month and a half, till the snow drove them away again. in winter the snow lies feet deep, and many men and animals perish in the snowdrifts, when the herds go too high up the mountains and are surprised by early heavy falls of snow. the autumn before, i was told, yaks were grazing up at the foot of ngomo-dingding when it began to snow furiously. several herdsmen hurried up to drive the animals down to lower ground, but the snow was heaped up in such large quantities that they had to turn back lest they should perish themselves. in the spring they went up, and found the skeletons and hides of the unfortunate animals. the shamsang gova had lately lost some horses in the same way. even the wild asses cannot escape from the spring snow. they cannot run when the snow is deep, and after trying in vain to reach bare ground, they die of starvation and are frozen in the snowdrifts. our three guides, who themselves pass the summer up here, assured me that the wild asses are frozen in an upright position, and often stand on all fours when the summer sun has thawed the snow. they had seen dead wild asses standing in herds as though they were alive. the snow, which falls in winter on the source region of the brahmaputra, melts in spring, and together with the river ice produces a flood of far larger volume, it is said, than the summer flood produced by rain. this is probably true of the uppermost course of the tsangpo, but lower down the rain-flood is certainly the greater. in general, the variations in the water-level are more marked in the higher lands, and the further the water flows downstream the more the fluctuations tend to disappear. "is not our country hard and terrible to live in? is not the bombo chimbo's country (india) better?" asked my tibetans. "i cannot say that; in india there are tigers, snakes, poisonous insects, heat, fever, and plague to contend with, which are not met with up here in the fresh air." "yes, but that is better than the continual wind, the sharp cold, and the fruitless waiting for rain. this year we have only had a couple of light showers, and we shall lose our herds if more rain does not come." "well, the summer in tibet is very pleasant when it rains, while in india it is suffocating; on the other hand, the winter in tibet is severe and cruel, but comfortable in india." "tell us, bombo chimbo, is it you, with your glass and measuring instruments, that is keeping back the rain this year? at this season it usually rains heavily, but you perhaps prefer clear weather, to be able to see the country and that the roads may not be soft." "no, i long for rain as much as you, for my animals are getting thin, and cannot eat their fill of this poor grass, which has stood here since last summer. only the gods can control the weather, and the sons of men must take the rain and sunshine as they are sent to them from above." they looked at one another doubtfully. it was not the first time that they had ascribed to me powers as great as those of their own gods, and it would have been difficult to have convinced them of their error. at midnight the men heard a one-year-old child crying and calling for help on the bank of the kubi-tsangpo. they woke one another in astonishment, and rabsang and two tibetans went off with a gun, thinking that it was a ghost. when they came near they heard the child weeping quite distinctly, and our heroes were so frightened that they thought it safest to make all haste back again. when i asked them how they knew that it was a year-old child, they answered, that from the sound it could not have been younger or older. when i suggested that it might have been a wolf cub, as there were no human beings in the neighbourhood, they declared that it must have been an uneasy spirit wandering about the bank. there must have been something supernatural about, for i dreamed in the night that all the fragments of birch bark which we had seen on our day's ride were letters of invitation from the maharaja of nepal, that i had accepted the invitation, and was lying half asleep on a soft carpet of grass and listening to the rustle of the warm wind among the cedars of the himalayas. the dream was so vivid that i could not think all day long of anything else but the warm beautiful land behind the mountains. even in camp no. i perceived fairly clearly how the land lay, but we were not yet at the actual source, and therefore we continued our march south-westwards on july . the foot of the snowy mountains seemed quite near. the river is broad, and divided by islands of mud into several arms. on the left side of the valley, where we march, are a couple of walls of green and black schist, but elsewhere old moraines extend on all sides. we cross a stream flowing from the country below dongdong to join the kubi-tsangpo. the tsechung-tso is a small moraine lake. the valley bottom rises slowly, and consists of loose material sparsely covered with grass. occasionally a small erratic block of grey granite is seen. rags, dung, and fragments of bone lie on the summer camping-grounds. at length the river becomes as broad as a small lake, enclosed in morainic rubbish and driftsand. we camped at the stone wall of shapka, one of the headquarters of the nomads. here, on the right bank of the kubi-tsangpo, stands a dark purple ridge of medium height with patches of snow, which melt in the course of the summer. the land at the foot of this colossal mountain is remarkably flat, and instead of a cone of detritus there is a stream expanded into a lake. the water from the melting snow has washed away all solid matter. as we came to camp no. , at a height of , feet, the peaks disappeared in clouds, but just before sunset the sky cleared and the last clouds floated away like light white steam over the glaciers of ngomo-dingding, which clearly displayed their grand structure, with high lateral moraines and concentric rings of grey lumpy terminal moraines. the surface, except where here and there blue crevasses yawned in the ice, was white with snow and the porous melting crust. when the sun had set, nine peaks in a line from south-east to south-west stood out with remarkable sharpness. raven-black pinnacles, cliffs and ridges rise out of the white snowfields, and the glaciers emerge from colossal portals. a whole village of tents rising to heaven! the source of the brahmaputra could not be embellished with a grander and more magnificent background. holy and thrice holy are these mountains, which from their cold lap give birth and sustenance to the river celebrated from time immemorial in legend and song, the river of tibet and assam, the river _par excellence_, the son of brahma. one generation after another of black tibetans has in the course of thousands of years listened to its roar between the two loftiest mountain systems of the world, the himalaya and the trans-himalaya, and one generation after another of the various tribes of assam has watered its fields with its life-giving floods and drunk of its blessed water. but where the source lay no one knew. three expeditions had determined its position approximately, but none had been there. no geography had been able to tell us anything of the country round the source of the brahmaputra. only a small number of nomads repair thither yearly to spend a couple of short summer months. here it is, here in the front of three glacier tongues, that the river so revered by the hindu tribes begins its course of some miles through the grandest elevations of the world, from which its turbid volumes of water roll first to the east, then southwards, cutting a wild valley through the himalayas, and finally flowing south-westwards over the plains of assam. the upper brahmaputra, the tsangpo, is truly the chief artery of tibet, for within its drainage basin is concentrated the great mass of its population, while its lower course is surrounded by the most fruitful and populous provinces of assam. the brahmaputra is therefore one of the noblest rivers of the world, and few waterways have a more illustrious descent and a more varied and more glorious career, for nations have grown up on its banks and have lived there, and their history and culture have been intimately connected with it since the earliest times of human records. busied with such thoughts, i went out again in the evening to gaze at the cliffs of the nine peaks which showed like dim misty shadows, while the ice and snowfields below, of the same colour as the sky, were not perceptible in the night. then a flash of lightning blazed up behind kubi-gangri, as the whole massive is called, and the crest crowned with eternal snow stood suddenly out in sharp pitch-black contours. singular, entrancing land, where spirit voices are heard in the night and the sky blazes up in bluish light. i listened for a long time to the brook shapka-chu, gently trickling down its stony bed to the bank of the kubi-tsangpo. we had still some way to go before we came to the actual source, and i could not conscientiously leave kubi-gangri without determining the absolute height of the source by the boiling-point thermometer. our tibetans were exceedingly friendly, and seemed to take an interest in showing us this point, of which i had spoken so often during the past days and about which i had put so many questions. i was really thankful for, and overjoyed at, this unexpected favourable opportunity of fixing the position of the source, though i knew that my excursion to kubi-gangri could only be a very cursory and defective reconnaissance. a thorough exploration of this neighbourhood would require several years, for the summer up here is short and the time for work is over in two months. but though i succeeded in learning only the chief outlines of the physical geography, i can count this excursion as one of the most important events of my last journey in tibet. accordingly, we decided to ride up to the source next day, july . only rabsang, robert, and a tibetan were to accompany me. the rest were to wait for our return under the command of tsering. chapter xliii the source of the sacred river--a departure we started off in beautiful weather, not a cloud hanging over the summits of kubi-gangri. we followed the left bank of the kubi-tsangpo, and rode along the foot of the huge moraines, which here rise fully feet above the valley bottom, and which were formerly thrown up on the left or western side of the gigantic glacier, whence proceeded all the glacier tongues now remaining only in short lengths. the morainic character is plainly recognizable, sometimes in curved ridges and walls falling steeply on both sides, sometimes in rounded hillocks rising one above another. the surface is often covered with fine pebbles, grass, and lovely alpine flowers trying to make the most of the short summer. here and there a landslip has taken place, and then it can be seen that the rock shows no trace of stratification. occasionally we pass granite boulders, but they are small, the largest not more than cubic feet. on the valley bottom are swamps with rank grass, and wild-geese are enjoying the summer in the ponds. we twice met with fresh spoor of small herds of wild yaks which had moved off to the right bank of the kubi-tsangpo. the horses' hoofs splashed in the swampy ground, seldom varied by small patches of boulder clay. numerous rivulets descend from the moraines. they are fed by the melting snowfields, and therefore, in contrast to the glacier brooks, are crystal clear. they have eroded deep valleys in the moraines, and one of them has deposited a great dejection cone at the mouth, over which the brook falls in ten channels, carrying cubic feet of water. a very considerable proportion of the upper brahmaputra's water is derived from melted snow. rivulets rushed and spurted all about in the rubbish, and all came from the snowfields, which struggled in vain against the heat of the spring sun. now we have right in front of us the immense glacier which descends from an extensive firn basin on the western foot of the mukchung-simo massive. between its terminal moraines and the older moraines we have skirted, a rather voluminous stream has eroded its valley. its water is tolerably clear and green, so that it proceeds from snowfields. a little below the terminal moraine it unites with the numerous arms of the muddy glacier stream, of which the largest is the one which flows nearest to the foot of the mukchung massive. even yards below the confluence the green water can be clearly distinguished from the brown, but afterwards the cold currents intermingle. where the river, still divided into a number of meandering arms, turns past camp to the north-east, it receives considerable additions from the glaciers lying further east, and thus the kubi-tsangpo is formed. then we ride up, zigzagging among boulders and pebble beds, over ridges, banks, and erosion furrows, over brooks and treacherous bog, over grass and clumps of brushwood, to a commanding point of view on the top of the old moraine ( , feet). before us is a chaos of huge, precipitous, fissured, black, bare rocks, summits, pyramids, columns, domes, and ridges, moraines, tongues of ice, snow and firn fields--a scene hard to beat for wild grandeur. here we made a halt, and i drew the panorama while the horses grazed on the slopes. the largest glacier, which comes from the kubi-gangri proper, is entirely below us, and we have a bird's-eye view of it. it is fed by three different firn-fields, and has two distinct medial moraines, which here and there rise into ridges where the ice has been thrust aside. the right lateral moraine is well defined, and is still partially covered with snow. the left is broad in its upper part but narrow below, where the green stream washes its base. up above, a glacier from the west runs into the main glacier, and where the two join the side glacier is thrown up into a mighty wall, which merges into the left lateral moraine of the other. all the bottom of the glacier front is buried in rubbish, and the ice peeps out only here and there. here are several small sheets of water, some of an intensely blue colour, others brown, with finely pulverized matter, showing that they are connected with the water of the ground moraine. two of these small pools have vertical sides of blue ice like entrances to marvellous fairy grottos. a series of marginal crevasses are still partly covered with snow. the terminal moraine is a chaos of mounds, pebbles, and boulders, with patches of snow on the shady side. in a hollow between these hillocks flows the middle glacier stream, after passing two pools. the terminal moraine does not increase in size, for its material is slowly disintegrated and washed away by the stream, which winds in several arms over the even bed of the valley bottom just below in the most capricious curves. an excursion over the surface of the glacier would not be difficult when one was once up on it. there are many dangerous crevasses concealed under the snow which may be avoided by keeping to the rubbish heaps of the medial moraines. the mass of the kubi-gangri, which from our point of view lies farthest to the right, to the west-north-west, is called gave-ting; from it descends the great side glacier. the front of the main glacier, where the largest of all the glacier streams of the kubi-gangri rises, is the actual source of the brahmaputra. the other streams which enter it south-east of camp are smaller and shorter. we could not get to them, for the horses sank too deep in the sand and mud of the main stream. on our return we made a halt at the place where the principal branch of the kubi-tsangpo comes out from under the ice, and i found that the source of the brahmaputra lies at an altitude of , feet above sea-level. i must leave details for the scientific report of this journey, which will be published in due time. on july it seemed very hot in my tent, for even at seven o'clock in the morning the temperature was . °; in the night there had been nearly ½ degrees of frost. the sky was perfectly clear, and therefore i could not refrain from seeking another point of view to investigate the beautiful glaciers of the kubi-gangri. after arranging with tsering that he should meet us in the valley of the dongdong river, we rode up the banks and ridges of the old moraine, through its hollows and over its terraces of barren soil, which was now soft and treacherous from the melting of the snow, past pools of clear, green water, and to the highest point of its ridge, where there was nothing to hide the view. i first took nine photographs, forming a consecutive series. then a cloak was thrown over the stand to make a shelter against the strong wind, and in this sentry-box i sat for nearly four hours drawing a panorama which embraced the whole horizon. meanwhile my companions lay down and snored, and i was glad to sit alone face to face with these royal mountain giants. the whole architecture is fantastically wild, and the only law which is strictly observed is that each glacier is confined between two huge black crests of rock. [illustration: . panorama of kubi-gangri and the langta-chen glacier, with the source of the brahmaputra (from a height of , feet, july , ). sketch by the author.] in order to give the reader a notion of the scene i here reproduce a part of the panorama embracing the kubi-gangri (illust. ). to the south, ° e., is a tetrahedral peak, which our guide called ngoma-dingding. to the south, ° e., rises another summit, of almost precisely the same form, which is called absi. on the east of it lies the ngoma-dingding glacier, and on the west the absi glacier. west of this stands the lumpy mukchung-simo group, with its culminating point lying south, ° w. the northern side resembles a stable with straight short stalls, each containing a small hanging glacier. to the south-west rise two sharp pinnacles, and in the south, ° w., a couple of dome-shaped summits consisting only of ice and snow; they belong to the langta-chen massive, and their firns feed to a great extent the glacier in the front of which the brahmaputra takes its rise. so the glacier may be called the langta-chen. to the south, ° w., ° w., and north, ° w., rise the summits of the gave-ting group. to the north, ° w., three peaks of the dongdong appear, from which one of the sources of the brahmaputra takes its rise, quite insignificant compared to the kubi-tsangpo. towards the north-east the sharply defined valley of the kubi-tsangpo runs downwards, and in the distance are seen the mountains of chang-tang, pyramidal peaks of singular uniformity, and crowded together in great numbers, which form a finely jagged horizon, and in consequence of the great distance merge into the pink tint of the insignificant snowfields. the trans-himalaya seems on this side to widen out and become flatter than in the east. it was late when we rode down the steep path to the camp on the dongdong. and now we had to hurry westwards and make as many discoveries and collect as much information as possible on forbidden paths, in spite of the mandarins and the devashung. on july we left our former route to the right and directed our steps northwards over intricate moraines, seeing the snowy peaks of dongdong and chema-yundung still more clearly from the pass kargan-la. on the th the sky was overcast, a couple of hail showers fell, and the hills around us changed to white. we rode north-westwards past two small lakes, and again fell in with solid rock--green and black schist. from the tugri-la we had a fine view over a world of mountains, the names of which i have no time to record. we crossed another saddle, sen-kamba-la, to reach the broad open valley of the chema-yundung river, which descends from a very extensive glacier in the south belonging to the chema-yundung-pu massive. here were several nomad tents, and seven tents inhabited by pilgrims from bongba stood on a rise. they were on their way with kith and kin to kang-rinpoche to make the pilgrimage round the holy mountain. most of the pilgrims from the far east take this southern route and return over the marium-la. july . it was very hot in the saddle with a temperature of ° and quite calm air. the brown puppy was very tired of travelling, and drops fell from her hanging tongue, but she could not leave the antelopes and hares in peace. she darted after them full speed, but never caught them, and came back to me disappointed, but began again the useless pursuit. the ronggak-chu is an affluent of the chema, and comes from the north-west. we left the little double lake kuru-chok in the south. to the west-south-west is the place where the chema-yundung receives the angsi-chu, the most westerly of all the headwaters of the brahmaputra. in the valley of the tynchung we encamped beside some accommodating nomads, who quickly procured me fresh yaks, for the three musketeers turned back here to shamsang, after doing their work well. the whole excursion to the sources of the brahmaputra had cost rupees, and it was well worth more. the natives said that ten robbers had recently made the neighbourhood unsafe, but immediately it was reported that a european caravan was approaching tynchung, they had entirely disappeared, and therefore we were regarded as deliverers, and the people could not do too much for us. a hindu merchant from almora was camping here, buying sheep's wool and salt from the nomads, and selling them frieze rugs and textiles from agra and amritsar. next day we crossed the marnyak-la ( , feet) and had the angsi-chu immediately below us, and on the th we left the river behind and followed its small tributary, the loang-gonga, up to its source at the very low pass tamlung or tag-la, which is nothing more than a rise in an open longitudinal valley. but this pass is exceedingly important, for it is the watershed between the brahmaputra and manasarowar. its height is , feet. to the south is spread out a succession of snowy peaks, and to the west-south-west is seen gurla mandatta or memo-nani, a majestic and imposing group which belongs to the same himalayan range as kubi-gangri. the pass is situated among old moraines, where is the little insignificant lake tamlung-tso, from which the loang-gonga flows out. at some distance to the south is seen the low watershed between the angsi-chu and the gang-lung, a stream that comes from a massive of the same name, and, as the tage-tsangpo, falls into manasarowar. the very latest maps of western tibet give a very incorrect representation of this country, which has never been visited by a european before. instead of a clearly marked meridional range we found an open, hilly, longitudinal valley with the watershed running among its moraines. here we took leave of the brahmaputra, after passing half a year in its basin since crossing the sela-la. we encamped at a place where the gang-lung river breaks through a rampart of moraines, forming foaming cascades. during the following day's journey it flows through granitic moraines, drift sand, and morasses, and becomes a considerable stream, receiving numerous affluents from the south. a caravan of yaks, and eight men from purang, armed with guns, and clad in blue with fur-lined cloaks, were on the way to the fair in gyanima. in the district tagramoche, where we bivouacked, were many nomads and beggars with staves and bundles on the way to the holy mountain. we also met six merchants from ladak, who were carrying dried peaches for sale on asses. they had left home a month and a half previously. on july we rode down the tage-bup valley among savage cliffs. on its bottom flows the tage-tsangpo, changing its colour from light green over sandy ground to bluish-purple over dark detritus. langchen-kamba is a small side-valley on the right, from which robbers are wont to sally forth against defenceless travellers. just below the valley a spring bubbles forth with crystal-clear water at a temperature of °. it is considered holy, and is marked by a pole bedecked with rags and streamers like a scare-crow. this spring is also called langchen-kamba. a little farther down the spring chakko stands on a steep slope on the right bank, and its water ( . °) is collected in a round pit feet deep. a wall is erected about it, covered with flat stones, on which figures of buddha and holy texts are carved. leaves from the holy scriptures are thrust between the stones of the wall, and streamers and rags fly from a pole. through the water, clear as a mirror, could be seen blue and red beads, two inferior turquoises, some shells, and other trash, thrown in as offerings by pious pilgrims. the water is supposed to have miraculous powers. murmuring prayers, our guide filled a wooden bowl with water and poured it over the head and mane of his horse to protect it from wolves. with the same object he tied a rag from the pole on to his horse's forelock. he drank himself a good draught to render him invulnerable to the bullets of robbers. if a sheep or other animal is ill it is only necessary to sprinkle it with the holy water to make it well again. when a traveller or pilgrim stands at the well and pours water with both hands over his head, it guards him against falling into the hands of footpads, and from other misfortunes. and if he sits and meditates, drinks, and washes his head, hands, and legs, and has sufficient faith, then he finds gold coins and precious stones at the bottom of the well. the sick man who bathes his whole body in the miraculous water becomes strong again. it is a lourdes in miniature. while my men were engaged in their ablutions i sat at the edge of the well and listened to the mystical music of the fluttering prayer-streamers, and found this fascinating tibet more enigmatical at every step. then we rode over the tage-tsangpo, where its valley opens into the flat basin of manasarowar--a new chapter in the chronicles of our journey. again gurla mandatta showed itself in all its glory, and in the north-west kang-rinpoche or kailas, the holy mountain, like a great _chhorten_ on a lama's grave, rose above the jagged ridge which forms the horizon in that direction. on seeing it all our men suddenly jumped out of their saddles and threw themselves down with their foreheads on the ground. only rabsang, a confirmed heathen, remained seated on his horse, and was afterwards well scolded by tsering. [illustration: , , . the mountains at the source of the brahmaputra.] we are now out on open hilly ground, and see a glimpse of the holy lake tso-mavang or manasarowar. we encamp by a small lake called tso-nyak, whither come islam ahun and shukkur ali, sent by guffaru, who is become uneasy at our long absence. we send them back again to tokchen with orders to guffaru to proceed to the monastery serolung-gompa on the holy lake, where we will meet him. on july we rode over the tage-tsangpo, which here carried cubic feet of water, where rabsang got a thorough wetting in consequence of his horse coming a cropper among the boulders in the bed. tsering said that he deserved a dip because he had not saluted kang-rinpoche. camp was set up in the broad valley namarding, where a clear brook flows to the tage-tsangpo. the wind blew strongly, and the tibetans said that the waves on tso-mavang were as high and dark as nomad tents. should we venture in our little canvas boat on the lake, exposed to all the winds? it must be very rough before i consented to give up the trip, for the lake had long been the subject of my dreams. next morning tundup sonam appeared with the news that the gova of tokchen would not let his yaks on hire for the journey to serolung. i had therefore to ride to tokchen by a road over the pass karbu-la, and down the river samo-tsangpo; it is full of fish, but we were asked not to disturb them, for they came up from the holy lake. we were all together again in tokchen, and i found the gova a decent fellow, who welcomed me with a large _kadakh_ and a bowl of _tsamba_. now an hour of parting was come, for i sent from tokchen thirteen of my men home to ladak. i had several reasons for this. i did not need so many men in western tibet; twelve were enough, and a small, light caravan accomplishes more and does not excite so much notice. the men were to travel along the great highway to gartok under the experienced leadership of guffaru, and there deposit all the baggage i could spare with the british agent, thakur jai chand. i also sent to him a letter packet of three hundred pages to my parents, beside other correspondence. of particular importance was a letter to colonel dunlop smith, in which i asked for rupees, provisions, books, revolvers and ammunition, and things suitable for presents, such as gold and silver watches, as well as all the letters which must have accumulated at the viceregal lodge. on the first evening, when i called together all the twenty-five men and told them my decision to send away thirteen, and asked which of them wished to go home, no one answered. they declared that they would follow me until i was tired of tibet. then i picked out thirteen and retained the best twelve men. among these was tashi, who with tundup sonam had accomplished the adventurous journey to shigatse. but when he saw that i was in earnest about the dividing of the caravan, he begged me to let him go home, so he was exchanged for another man. we stayed here two days to put everything in order. after the baggage was re-arranged i had only four boxes left, and the rest were to be carried away by guffaru. robert sat in my tent like a money-changer and piled up sovereigns and rupees in small heaps, the pay, gratuities, and travelling expenses of the men who were going home. our treasury was relieved of rupees all at once. the important correspondence was enclosed in a case, which guffaru carried in his belt. the men with him were allowed to keep two of our five guns. late in the evening guffaru came to my tent to receive his last instructions. honest old guffaru, he had in the autumn of his life performed wonders in the winter in chang-tang, always composed and contented, always doing his duty in the smallest particular. now he sat, with the tears falling on to his white beard, and thanked me for all i had done for him during the past year. i bade him weep no more, but rejoice that the hard time was over for him, and that he could return safe and sound to his people with rupees in his purse. when we left leh he was as poor as a church mouse, and now he was a rich man for his position, and he had not needed his shroud. i told him that i should miss him very much, but that i could not entrust the valuable baggage and important letters to any other hands but his. when i came out of my tent early on the morning of the th the yaks were laden and the thirteen men were ready to march off with their tibetan guides. i thanked them for their faithfulness and patience during the time when they were exposed to so many dangers in my service, begged them to remember that they were responsible for the caravan on the way home, and told them that they must obey guffaru, and that their character would suffer if they did not bear with one another on the way. if they were as conscientious on this journey as in my service, it would be well for them in the future, and perhaps our paths might cross again. then old guffaru came forward, and fell on his knees before me, weeping loudly, and all the others in turn followed his example amid sobs and tears; i clapped them all on the shoulder and hoped that this bitter hour would soon be over. then they took leave of their comrades, who, deeply moved, sent greetings to their parents, wives, and children in ladak, and they marched off on foot, as they had travelled so many hundred miles, silent, drooping, and downcast, and soon disappeared behind the hills. chapter xliv a night on manasarowar after guffaru had set out with his men, the small caravan was organized which was to accompany me. it was led by tsering, and the other men left were bulu, tundup sonam, rabsang, rehim ali, shukkur ali, namgyal, adul, ishe, lama, galsang, and rub das. the gova of tokchen was given a kashmir shawl, a turban, and some rupees for the services he had rendered us, and all the other tibetans who had been friendly and helpful received presents. the dividing of the caravan had also the advantage that the tibetans supposed that we were all making for the same destination by different routes, and that i should join guffaru in gartok and continue my journey to ladak, as directed on the passport. [illustration: . tibetans on the bank of the soma-tsangpo.] [illustration: . group of natives of langmar.] with robert, rabsang, and two tibetans i now ride down the tokchen valley and up over the hills to the south-west. to the right of our route the turquoise-blue surface of the holy lake is displayed; how beautiful, how fascinating is the scene! one seems to breathe more freely and easily, one feels a pleasure in life, one longs to voyage over the blue depths and the sacred waves. for manasarowar is the holiest and most famous of all the lakes of the world, the goal of the pilgrimage of innumerable pious hindus, a lake celebrated in the most ancient religious hymns and songs, and in its clear waters the ashes of hindus find a grave as desirable and honoured as in the turbid waters of the ganges. during my stay in india i received letters from hindus in which they asked me to explore the revered lake and the holy mountain kailas, which lifts its summit in the north under a cupola of eternal snow, where siva, one of the indian trinity, dwells in her paradise among a host of other deities; and they told me that if i could give them an exact description of the lake and river, they would remember me in their prayers and their gods would bless me. but that was not why i longed to be there. the lake had never been sounded--i would sink my lead to the bottom and make a map of its bed; i would follow its periphery and calculate how much water pours into its bosom on a summer day; i would investigate its hydrographic relation to the adjacent lake on the west, the rakas-tal, a problem which various travellers in this region, from moorcroft and strachey to ryder and rawling, have explained differently; i would learn something of the monasteries and the life of hindu and tibetan pilgrims, for the lake is sacred in the eyes of lamaists also, who call it tso-mavang or tso-rinpoche, the "holy lake." how can manasarowar and kailas be the objects of divine honours from two religions so different as hinduism and lamaism unless it is that their overpowering beauty has appealed to and deeply impressed the human mind, and that they seemed to belong rather to heaven than to earth? even the first view from the hills on the shore caused us to burst into tears of joy at the wonderful, magnificent landscape and its surpassing beauty. the oval lake, somewhat narrower in the south than the north, and with a diameter of about ½ miles, lies like an enormous turquoise embedded between two of the finest and most famous mountain giants of the world, the kailas in the north and gurla mandatta in the south, and between huge ranges, above which the two mountains uplift their crowns of bright white eternal snow. yes, already i felt the strong fascination which held me fettered to the banks of manasarowar, and i knew that i would not willingly leave the lake before i had listened, until i was weary, to the song of its waves. we sat an hour and enjoyed the incomparable beauty of the scene. a slight ripple ruffled the surface of the water, but in the middle the lake was as smooth as if oil had been poured on it. the tibetans said that it was always smooth in the middle except when a storm raged. to the south-south-west and south-west are seen the two summits of gurla mandatta, the western very flat, and reminding me of the mustag-ata in the eastern pamir. the tibetans called the mountain sometimes namo, sometimes memo-nani. south, ° w., a row of snowy heights rise behind the purang valley. to the west-north-west is seen the small pyramidal hill where chiu-gompa stands on the bank of the water channel which once ran into rakas-tal. to the north-west a couple of lagoons lie on the shore of manasarowar, and behind them rise chains and ramifications belonging to the trans-himalaya, and among them kailas or kang-rinpoche, the "holy mountain," called also gangri or the "ice mountain," dominates the horizon unless its summit is veiled in clouds. and lastly, to the north, ° w., we see the double-peaked pundi, not far from the shore, and in the north the two valleys pachen and pachung, with roads which lead over the watershed of the trans-himalaya to chang-tang. when i asked our guides what they thought of a boat trip across the lake, they answered unhesitatingly that it was impossible; mortals who ventured on the lake, which was the home of the gods, must perish. also in the middle tso-mavang was not level as on the shore, but formed a transparent dome, and up its round arch no boat could mount; and even if we succeeded in getting the boat up, it would shoot down the other side with such velocity that it must capsize, and we should perish in the waves because we had excited the wrath of the god of the lake. we mounted again and rode south-south-west over the hills to serolung, the golden valley, where the monastery serolung-gompa is hidden in the hollow. there i stayed four hours, making sketches and notes. serolung, which contains thirty monks, most of whom were away wandering among the villages, is one of the eight convents which are set like precious stones in the chain which the pilgrims stretch round the lake, in the hope of acquiring merit in a future form of existence, of being freed from the burden of sin and the tortures of purgatorial fires, nay, perhaps, of sitting at the feet of the gods and eating _tsamba_ out of golden bowls. our camp no. was pitched immediately south of the mouth of the serolung valley at the water's edge. the strip of ground on the bank is quite narrow, and on the hills rising to the east of it are visible six horizontal strand lines, the highest lying feet above the present level of the lake, which is , feet above the sea. on july i had a good sleep, and spent the rest of the day in making preparations for the first line of soundings, which was to cross the lake in a direction south, ° w., where a gap appeared in the hills framing the lake. we waited for good weather, but the wind blew violently and the surf beat and foamed against the shore. i therefore resolved to wait till night, for of late the nights had been calmer than the days. on a trial trip we had found a depth of feet not far from the shore, so we made ready a sounding line feet long. perhaps even this would not be long enough, for a lake lying among such high mountains is sure to be deep. shukkur ali was to go with me, and he accepted his fate with his usual composure, but rehim ali, the other victim, was frightened; it was all very well in the day, he said, but in the dark gloomy night on such a great lake! we should certainly have the same trouble as on lake lighten, he thought. when the sun set the wind increased in strength, and heavy clouds spread up from the south-west. at seven o'clock it was pitch dark all round, not a star shone out, not a trace was visible of the outline of the shore and of the snowy mountains, and the sea was buried in the shades of night. but an hour later the wind fell, the air became quite calm, but the waves beat in a monotonous rhythm on the bank. the smoke of the camp fires rose straight up into the air. then i gave orders to set out. the baggage was stowed and the mast stepped to be ready if we had a favourable wind. provisions for two days were put in the boat. i wore a leathern vest, kashmir boots, and an indian helmet, and sat on a cushion and a folded fur coat on the lee side of the rudder, on the other side of which the sounding-line with its knots lay ready on the gunwale. the log, lyth's current meter, was attached to the boat to register the whole length of the course, and compass, watch, note-book, and map sheets all lay close beside me, lighted by a chinese paper lantern, which could be covered with a towel when we did not want the light. i used the towel after every sounding to dry my hands. rehim ali took his seat forward, shukkur ali in the stern half of the boat, where we were cramped for room and had to take care that we did not get entangled in the sounding-line. tsering took a sceptical view of the whole adventure. he said that the lake was full of wonders, and at the best we should be driven back by mysterious powers when we had rowed a little way out. and a tibetan agreed with him, saying that we should never reach the western shore though we rowed with all our might, for the lake god would hold our boat fast, and while we thought that it was advancing it would really remain on the same spot, and finally the angry god would draw it down to the bottom. robert had orders to wait at camp no. for our return, and when we put off from the bank at nine o'clock all bade us farewell in as warm and gentle a tone as though they thought that they had seen the last of us. their spirits were not raised by the lightning which flashed in the south and might portend a storm. the darkness, however, was not so intense, for the moon was coming up, though it was still covered by the hills rising behind our camp. but its light threw a weird gleam over the lake, and in the south gurla mandatta rose like a ghost enveloped in a sheet of moonshine, snowfields, and glaciers. at my command, the boatmen took a firm grip of the oars and the boat glided out from the beach, where our men stood in a silent thoughtful group. our fires were seen for a while, but soon disappeared, for they were burning almost on a level with the water. robert told me afterwards that the little boat sailing out into the darkness was a curious sight; owing to the lantern and the reflexion of the light on the mast the boat was visible at first, but when it reached the moon-lighted part of the lake it appeared only as a small black spot, which soon vanished. the great lake was dark and mysterious in the night, and unknown depths lurked beneath us. the contours of the hills on the shore were still visible behind us, but we had not gone far before they were swallowed up by higher mountains farther off, which gradually came into view. after twenty minutes' rowing we stopped and let down the line, sounding feet. the roar of the surf on the beach was the only sound in the silence of night, except the splash of the oars and the voices of the oarsmen singing in time with their strokes. at the next sounding the depth was feet. if the bottom did not fall more rapidly our line would be long enough. every hour i recorded the temperatures of the air and the water. now the god of sleep paid us a visit; shukkur ali yawned at every ninth stroke, and every yawn was so long that it lasted three strokes. the air is quite still. a long, smooth swell causes the boat to rock slightly. all is quiet, and i ask myself involuntarily if other beings are listening to the splash of the oars as well as ourselves. it is warm, with a temperature of . ° at eleven o'clock. the next two depths are and feet. my oarsmen follow the soundings with deep interest, and look forward to the point where the depth will begin to decrease. they think it awful and uncanny to glide over such great depths in the dark night. again blue lightning flashes behind gurla mandatta, which stands forth in a pitch black outline, after appearing just before in a white robe of moon-lighted snowfields. a little later all the southern sky flames up like a sea of fire; the flashes quickly follow one after the other, and shoot up to the zenith, seeming to stay a moment behind the mountains, and it becomes light as day, but when the glow dies out the darkness is more intense, and the sublime, poetic solemnity of the night is enhanced. by the light of the flashes i can see the faces of the two men, who are startled and uneasy, and do not dare to disturb the awful stillness by their singing. when i let down the line at the fifth point, the two men asked permission to light their water-pipes. the depth was feet. a slight south-westerly breeze rippled the surface. the cry of a water-bird broke shrilly on the silence of the night, and made us feel less lonely. a slight hiss of the surf breaking on the south-eastern shore was audible. in the south the clouds gathered round the summit of gurla mandatta, the breeze fell. we glided slowly over the inky black water, and between the wave crests the path of moonlight wound in bright sinuosities; the depth increased slowly . feet, . , and . . the temperature was still . °, and i did not want my fur coat. the queen of night, with diamonds in her dark hair, looks down upon the holy lake. the midnight hour is passed, and the early morning hours creep slowly on. we sound , , , , , and feet, and it seems therefore as if we had passed the deepest depression. leaning on the gunwale i enjoy the voyage to the full, for nothing i remember in my long wanderings in asia can compare with the overpowering beauty of this nocturnal sail. i seem to hear the gentle but powerful beat of the great heart of nature, its pulsation growing weaker in the arms of night, and gaining fresh vigour in the glow of the morning red. the scene, gradually changing as the hours go by, seems to belong not to earth but to the outermost boundary of unattainable space, as though it lay much nearer heaven, the misty fairyland of dreams and imagination, of hope and yearning, than to the earth with its mortals, its cares, its sins, and its vanity. the moon describes its arch in the sky, its restless reflexion quivering on the water, and broken by the wake of the boat. the queen of night and her robe become paler. the dark sky passes into light blue, and the morn draws nigh from the east. there is a faint dawn over the eastern mountains, and soon their outlines stand out sharply, as though cut out on black paper. the clouds, but now floating white over the lake, assume a faint rosy hue, which gradually grows stronger, and is reflected on the smooth water, calling forth a garden of fresh roses. we row among floating rose-beds, there is an odour of morning and pure water in the air, it grows lighter, the landscape regains its colour, and the new day, july , begins its triumphal progress over the earth. only an inspired pencil and magic colours could depict the scene that met my eyes when the whole country lay in shadow, and only the highest peaks of gurla mandatta caught the first gleam of the rising sun. in the growing light of dawn the mountain, with its snowfields and glaciers, had shown silvery white and cold; but now! in a moment the extreme points of the summit began to glow with purple like liquid gold. and the brilliant illumination crept slowly like a mantle down the flanks of the mountain, and the thin white morning clouds, which hovered over the lower slopes and formed a girdle round a well-defined zone, floating freely like saturn's ring, and like it throwing a shadow on the fields of eternal snow, these too assumed a tinge of gold and purple, such as no mortal can describe. the colours, at first as light and fleeting as those of a young maiden in her ball-dress, became more pronounced, light concentrated itself on the eastern mountains, and over their sharp outlines a sheaf of bright rays fell from the upper limb of the sun upon the lake. and now day has won the victory, and i try dreamily to decide which spectacle has made the greater impression on me, the quiet moonlight, or the sunrise with its warm, rosy gleam on the eternal snow. phenomena like these are fleeting guests on the earth; they come and go in the early morning hours, they are only seen once in a lifetime, they are like a greeting from a better world, a flash from the island of the phoenix. thousands and thousands of pilgrims have wandered round the lake in the course of centuries, and have seen the dawn and sunset, but have never witnessed the display which we gazed upon from the middle of the holy lake on this memorable night. but soon the magical effects of light and colour, which have quickly followed one another and held me entranced, fade away. the country assumes its usual aspect, and is overshadowed by dense clouds. kailas and gurla mandatta vanish entirely, and only a snowy crest far away to the north-west is still dyed a deep carmine, only yonder a sheaf of sunbeams penetrates through an opening in the clouds. in that direction the mirror of the lake is tinged blue, but to the south green. the wild-geese have waked up, and they are heard cackling on their joyous flights, and now and then a gull or tern screams. bundles of seaweed float about. the sky is threatening, but the air is calm, and only gentle swells, smooth as polished metal, disturb the water, which looks like the clearest curação. the boat moves with weary slowness to its destination, for now, at six o'clock in the morning, my oarsmen are tired and sleepy and quite at an end of their strength. they sleep and row alternately. "hem-mala-hém" calls out shukkur ali, accenting the last syllable, when he energetically grasps his oar, but he goes to sleep between, and the oar hovers in the air; his own voice wakes him up, he dips the oar in and goes to sleep again. [illustration: . robert in the boat.] the hours pass by, but there is no sign that we are nearing our destination. we cannot decide which bank is nearest, and we seem to be in the centre of this boundless lake. in the midst of gurla mandatta is seen a huge deeply eroded ravine, its entrance standing out picturesquely below the dense mantle of clouds. for a moment, when all around lay buried in shadow, the interior was lighted up by the sun, and it presented a fantastic appearance, resembling a portal into a hall of the gigantic dome lighted up by innumerable candles. the valleys and erosion channels between the different spurs of the massive are sharply defined, and wind down to the lake among flat cones of detritus, the outer margins of which cause the variations in the depth of the bottom. this now increases again to , , , and feet. at fourteen points, these included, the bottom temperature is observed. the sounding occupies a considerable time. the line must first be paid out to the feet, and then be held still till the thermometer has assumed the bottom temperature, and then it must be drawn up again, the depth must be noted, the thermometer read, the temperature of the surface water and the air must be ascertained, and the log-reading taken. five furlongs to the north the smooth swell shows a curious fiery yellow colour, and i cannot make out the origin of this singular reflexion. the clouds gather in the south-west, and a breeze sweeps over the lake, producing waves which retard still more the progress of the boat. rehim ali cannot keep himself awake any longer, and shukkur ali is very comical in his overpowering sleepiness. the old man looks like a weather-beaten sea-dog in a south-wester--his ladaki cap with its spreading flaps. he snoozes innocently with his oars up, and rows again and again in the air, still calling out his constant "shu-ba-la-la." he talks in his sleep. rehim ali wakes up and asks him what is the matter, and no one knows what it is all about. towards seven o'clock the dustman pays me a visit, but is not admitted. only for a moment i see red wild asses running over the water, hear harps playing sweetly in the air, and behold the great black head of a sea-serpent rise above the waves and then sink down again; green dolphins and small whales arch their backs among the waves--but no, i must keep awake, for a storm may come down upon us any moment. i give my boatmen a good douche with the hollow of my hand, wash my own hands and face, and order breakfast--a hard-boiled goose egg, a piece of bread, and a bowl of milk, and then i light my pipe and am as lively again as a lark. at the twentieth sounding-place, feet deep, the other two follow my example. at nine o'clock, when we have been exactly twelve hours on the water, we sound a depth of . feet, but the south-western shore seems to our eyes as far off as ever. rehim ali thinks it is awful to have so much water under the keel. the clouds on gurla lift a little, and we see deeper into the recesses of the great valley the more we come opposite its mouth. the lower points of the snowfields come into sight below the clouds. west of them is seen a broad erosion channel, grey with detritus and dotted with dark brushwood. the water reflects the forms of the mountains like a mirror; it turns blue when the sky is clear, but green again as soon as the clouds gather. a shoal of fishes plays in the water and splashes on the surface. and again the hours of the day pass by. we glide slowly forwards, now over calm rising swell, whispering gently as spirit voices, now over small pyramidal waves produced by the meeting of two systems of undulations from different directions. four small squalls from different quarters threaten us, but we catch only a flip of their tails, which cannot stir up the waves to a dangerous height. the last, from the south-east, is the strongest, and then the sail is hoisted. but still the shore seems far distant; perhaps tsering was right with his lamaistic wisdom. all details, however, become sharper and clearer. gurla turns three mighty gables towards the lake, and between them huge fans of detritus and erosion channels come to view. the fans become flatter towards the shore, and extend under the water down to the greatest depths of the lake; on the north shore, where a wide plain lies, the lake bottom might be expected to sink more slowly. gurla is a splendid background to the holy lake--no artist in the world could conceive anything more magnificent and interesting. then we sounded , , , , , , and feet, and perceived at length that the shore was near, for yaks and sheep were visible on the hills. the sea was now fairly high, and we had to bale the boat twice, and my fur coat on the bottom was wet. the two tired and sleepy men laboured painfully at the oars. we talked of how pleasant it would be to land, kindle a fire, and take our tea and food, but the shore still retired before us, and the hours of the afternoon slipped past. gurla seemed to rise in the south directly from the water, its level skirts and low slopes being much foreshortened. the monks of the monastery here do not depend for water on the brooks, but drink the holy water of the lake, which has in reality the taste of the purest, most wholesome, spring water. its crystal purity and dark greenish-blue colour are as beautiful as the flavour, and to pilgrims from a distance the water of manasarowar is preferable to sparkling champagne. at last we were released from imprisonment in the boat. we saw the bottom through the clear water, and a few strokes of the oar brought the boat to a wall of clay and decaying weeds, which the winter ice had pushed up on the bank. inside the wall lies a longish lagoon, with mud in which one sinks to the knee. the time was half-past one, so we had been ½ hours on the lake. but when we had reached the shore we found it impossible to get on land. after i had thought over the matter, while the men looked about them, we rowed northwards, and after an hour and a half discovered a place where the boat could be drawn ashore. then we had been eighteen hours on the water. a herdsman was seen, but he made off quickly. fuel was collected and a fire lighted. tea was infused and mutton fried, and when the three of us had eaten our dinner a temporary tent was constructed of the oars, mast, and sail, in which i lay down to sleep towards seven o'clock, wrapped in my fur, and with the life-buoys for a pillow. i had toiled for thirty-one hours continuously, so i went to sleep at once, and knew nothing of the storm which raged all night, or of the twenty-five pilgrims who passed by at dawn on their circuit of the holy lake. chapter xlv more lake voyages i was awakened at six o'clock, having felt no cold in the night, for the minimum temperature was °. the morning was fine, only too warm; the pilgrims had gone away; we ate our breakfast, pushed the boat into the water, and rowed about yards from the shore towards the north-north-east and north-north-west, describing a slight bend to camp no. . on our left hand was a row of pebble mounds, gradually rising to the top of the promontory which separates manasarowar from rakas-tal. soon the monastery gossul-gompa was seen on its pebble terrace, nearly feet high, like a swallow's nest hanging over the lake. a group of lamas stood silently watching the boat; they had never in their lives seen such a contrivance on the holy lake. when we drew near they vanished like rats into their holes, and only an old man remained sitting by a balustrade. i asked him the name of the monastery, and he said gossul-gompa. the next point shut out the convent. the shore lagoons continue, though the margin below the hills is only to feet broad. the clay in which the lagoons are embedded is impermeable to water, but the lake has only to rise a couple of feet to find an outlet over the sandbank behind into the rakas-tal, or langak-tso, on the west. and when the channel at the north-west corner is silted up, as it is now, the manasarowar has a subterranean outlet to the neighbouring lake, and its water consequently remains perfectly fresh. i now intended to camp a little to the north at some suitable spot, and thence row the following day over the lake to our headquarters near serolung-gompa. we took bearings of a cinnabar-red hill lying on the north side of a slightly indented bay of the western shore. a fresh southerly breeze was blowing, we hoisted the sail, and flew whizzing over the lake. the pilgrims watched our voyage with the greatest astonishment, and the monks of gossul cautiously followed us on the hills, no doubt wondering how such sacrilege would end. the wild-geese swam with their young ones out into the lake, while other swimming birds took themselves off some yards inland, perhaps taking the boat for a curious water-bird of unusual size. we went ashore at the red promontory, and while fuel was being collected and the camp arranged, i reconnoitred the neighbourhood from the heights above the landing-place. on the inner side of the shallow bay i found a hollow with its bottom lower than the surface of the lake, and filled with salt water, and on the west side of this swamp lies the lowest dip in the isthmus separating the twin lakes. up there runs the pilgrim road, worn down by hundreds of thousands of weary feet. three armed horsemen rode along the way. they came up without dismounting, and evidently did not know what to make of me. they could easily have taken me prisoner now that i was separated from my men, but they did not think of it, and rode on. a furious storm swept over the lake, its surface was wildly agitated, and covered with white horses. the farther, eastern part was of a deep green colour, while on our western shore it was lighter. the water of the shore lagoons was dark purple from the reflexion of the dense clouds. towards four o'clock the air became oppressively still, then the wind sprang up, and an equally violent north-west storm came down raging and roaring. the wild south-easterly waves were suppressed by it, and the undulations remained uncertain till the new wave system was established. there was rain in many places round the lake, but we felt only a few drops. about six o'clock the sky looked threatening, with pitch-dark clouds all around, and not a trace could be seen of the eastern shore; we seemed to stand on the coast of the ocean. soon after the wind veered round to the east-south-east, and then the surf beat all the evening against our beach. how fortunate that the weather had not been like this the evening before! we sat two hours by the fire and talked. its flames flickered and darted in all directions, so that they singed shukkur ali's goat's beard. the weather was still so threatening that we made a shelter of the boat, in which i lay down early to sleep. before dozing off i listened to the roar of the waves, and thought i heard all kinds of mysterious sounds in the night, but it was only the cry of water-birds and the howling of the wind among the hills. the men had orders to call me before sunrise, for we must hasten if we wished to reach camp no. before darkness set in. it was scarcely light when i came out of my shelter. the last provisions were consumed by the morning fire, and then we put off about half-past four in dull, disagreeable weather. the strong west wind carried us rapidly away from the shore--indeed, it was really too strong for our sail and mast, but it took us on and doubled our pace. we had been sheltered under the hills, but when we were a few minutes from the beach the lake became uncomfortably rough. but it was of little consequence, for we sailed with the waves and took in no water. the men, too, were more alive than on the first nocturnal voyage. they had evidently made up their minds to reach their destination before night, and they rowed like galley-slaves with the whip hanging over them; they seemed to run a race with the west wind, and try to get away before the waves rose too madly. the water hissed and foamed round the boat, and bubbled in the wake as when butter is browned in a pan, and beneath us the lake boiled up. it was a fine voyage as we rocked, spinning rapidly over the holy waves. [illustration: . sheep-shearing at tugu-gompa on manasarowar.] shukkur ali's refrain to the strokes of the oars is now "ya paté, parvardigar rabel, alehmin" or "illallah," while rehim ali responds to the cry of his comrade with "haap"--the _p_ jerked out quickly and loudly like an explosion--and with the refrain "illallah," or "svalallah." the arabic words are, as usual in ladak, much corrupted, but they lighten the work, and after shukkur ali had yelled them out thirty-five times in a minute for nine hours as loudly as his vocal cords would let him, he was dreadfully hoarse in the evening. then the soundings were , , , , , , , and . out beyond the abrasion terrace and its rather steep escarpment, the lake bottom is practically level. hanging cloud fringes show that rain is pouring down in torrents on most sides, but we escape it. my excellent boatmen row twice as fast as on the first night, but it is impossible to induce them to row in time. if i loose the rudder a moment, my boat falls off to the north or south instead of making east, where camp no. lies. if it is dark before we reach the shore, our men are to light a pile of wood to guide us. the day draws to an end, the wind sweeps away the clouds, and they seem to gather round the mountains, which form a grand wreath around this pearl of lakes. the wind dies quite away, the sun scorches my weather-beaten face, and it is trying to the eyes when the sparkling gold of the sunbeams falls straight upon them. their blinding light makes it difficult to distinguish our goal, but i hold the compass in my hand. the waves sink and become more languid, and the sea is again smooth as glass. now we move more slowly, for the wind no longer pushes behind, but the men are unwearied; their boat-song dies away over the water, awaking no echo. the hills of the eastern shore show no perceptible difference in size between one sounding-point and the next. i sit dreaming, the rhythmical song and the splashing of the oars exercising a soporific effect. i seem to hear the tramp of a horse which bears a rider in silver harness over the granite mountains of the trans-himalaya through an unknown land, and in the dream i perceive that the features of the rider are my own. then i am sad, for the dream is false. i have certainly crossed the trans-himalaya by three passes, but the most important part of the exploration has not been accomplished. that i have done my utmost in dealing both with the tibetans and the chinese to gain access to the country north of the tsangpo is no consolation to me. if one can storm the opposing bulwark of nature, one should be able to overcome the obstinacy of man. up yonder in the north, behind kailas, the trans-himalaya extends its granite ramparts, and i must go there though it cost me my life. i must go there, if i clothe myself in the rags of a mendicant lama and beg my way from one black tent to another. but we are still on the holy lake; it is a day of rest and a summer's day. i feel the skin of my face cracked by the burning of the sun. the hours crawl so slowly over the lake; patience, patience. the clouds display wonderful tone-effects; white and grey, sharply defined, they lie in different stages before the mountains, and behind them dark blue and purple curtains seem to hang down. we might be gliding over the bright floor of a temple hall, its walls richly decorated with flags and standards, which hang down from golden hooks on the ceiling of the sky, and touch the dust of earth with their fringes. the genii of siva's paradise seem to hover round us. now shukkur ali has taken to a new cry: "ya aferin adétt," to which he adds "ya, allah," as he lifts his oar, and rehim ali chimes in with "shupp." the depth still remains about feet. to the south-east curious clouds are reflected in the lake, and a mist seems to be creeping over the water. all the tones are so light, airy, and grey that the landscape, which surrounds us like a ring where the water ends, seems hardly real. the twin summits of pundi on the north-east are dark and solemn, and equally dark and solemn is the mirror of the lake. silver beads drop from the oars and glitter like diamonds in the sun. i could live and die on this heavenly lake without ever growing weary of the wonderful spectacle always presenting fresh surprises. meanwhile a light south-easterly breeze disturbs again all the reflexions. the valleys pachen and pachung open their doors wider and wider, and allow us to see deeper into the recesses of the mountain. we recognize the hills above camp no. , but the tents are not visible. but we see a white spot on the northern shore which we take for a gompa. the depth is somewhat over feet; "ya bismillah hum!" is shukkur ali's exclamation. at the sixteenth point the depth has again decreased, the south-easterly breeze has ceased, and the lake is again a sheet of glass. now the tents can be seen as tiny specks, and we hope to complete this line also without a storm. a long, low, smooth swell of closely following waves, like the wake of a distant steamer, comes to meet us. how has it been produced, since the lake is quite peaceful? perhaps by a slight convulsion of the earth's crust, which has disturbed the shore. the undulations on this round lake are very peculiar. at point no. the depth is only feet, and now we have not far to go. crack! shukkur ali's oar broke off in the middle with a bang, and the boat drew rapidly away from the blade end, which had to be picked up. the good man was so dumbfoundered and bewildered that he stammered, "that does not matter," and went on rowing with the shaft in the air. now, when the tents were so near, he had developed too much strength. "it is well that the old man does not burst himself," i thought. we tied the parts together with a piece of string. there was a stir on the shore when we landed. the waiting men showed by word and gesture how glad they were to have us back again after giving way to all kinds of dismal forebodings about our sad fate. just as they caught sight of the boat out on the lake, robert was about to send out patrols up and down the shore. all was well in the camp, except that the tibetans were troubled because their provisions were at an end. i gave them money to buy _tsamba_ at the monastery. in the evening i discussed with robert a plan of rowing southwards to investigate the lake bit by bit. we bought a plank and two staves in serolung, and on the first leisure day shukkur ali cut out with an axe two excellent oars, after a pattern i had cut for him from the lid of a cigarette box. on the next day, the anniversary of my arrival in leh, a new month began. every time i write in my diary "the first," i wonder what the new month holds in its lap--new discoveries or new disappointments? but i hope always, and believe that all will come right at last. rabsang and tundup sonam rowed, and robert steered along the three-feet line about yards from the land, while i sat in the bow, compass in hand, and drew a map of the shore-line, the hills and valleys, and all the details that are characteristic of a lake. charles a. sherring states in his book on western tibet that mr. drummond, commissioner of bareilly, sailed in in a boat on manasarowar, but no result has come to my knowledge; on the contrary, i find that the very latest map of the lake needs a thorough correction. soundings had never been taken before, and the object of my boating expeditions was to collect material for a detailed isobathic map. when we left behind us the basin of the brahmaputra at the pass tamlung, i had already suspected that manasarowar was a member of the hydrographic system of the sutlej, and i wished to try if i could not make a contribution towards the solution of this problem. i knew that my investigations could only be inadequate, but they yielded a number of facts hitherto unknown. among these are the systematic sounding of the bed, by means of which conclusions may be drawn as to the origin and formation of the lake. i soon convinced myself that the lake depression had been excavated by old glaciers from the southern mountains, as i at first conjectured, and was not dammed up by moraine walls across the broad valley. but want of space forbids me to enter fully into a discussion of this interesting question. we glide in a flat curve to the south-west, and have to increase our distance from the shore that we may not run aground on the sandy bottom. the water at this season of the year has a fairly constant temperature of about °. then we approach the mouth of the tage-tsangpo. for about two-thirds of a mile the river flows parallel to the shore of the lake, being separated from it by an embankment feet high, which has been cast up by the waves and the pressure of the ice. here we encamped among driftsand and bushes, and measured the tage-tsangpo. its breadth was . feet, its maximum depth . feet, and its discharge . cubic feet a second, or cubic feet more than where we last gauged it above the na-marden affluent. i have already related how we first came in contact with this river at the pass tam-lung-la; its source stream, the gang-lung-chu or "water of the ice valley," comes from the gang-lung mountain in the south, and so there is a glacier or "ice valley" in this mountain which is the origin of the tage-tsangpo. it is seen from the tam-lung-la, and is the glacier which i venture to call the sutlej's genetic source or the real original source. we shall return to this attractive problem. from every camp on the lake robert rowed out with two men at right angles to the beach, sounding the depth every five minutes. by means of these radiating lines we discovered the saucer-shaped form of the lake, for, as i have already remarked, the lake bottom is on the whole very even. now, from camp no. , robert rowed out to a depth of feet. on august we continued our boating excursion, while the caravan marched along the shore. all went excellently well, we heard not a word of any officials in pursuit of us, and the tibetans placed yaks and mules at our disposal with the greatest willingness. a couple of showers fell, loud thunder rolled in gurla mandatta, and a violent south-westerly breeze forced us to come to a halt and wait at a place on the shore where the brook from the nima-pendi valley debouches, forming a delta within a broken mole. fish are plentiful in the brook, but here also the tibetans asked us not to catch them, and we respected their wishes--only stupid and uncouth men wound the religious feelings of others. by this brook the lake receives a tribute of . cubic feet per second, while the richung-chu entering farther to the west-south-west contributes . cubic feet. we passed yanggo-gompa under sail at a rather short distance, and steered straight for tugu-gompa, picturesquely situated on a strand terrace. here begin the long lagoons and mud embankment we had seen from the western beach, and we were carried comfortably ashore and greeted politely by a band of hindus consisting of pilgrims and traders. a number of tibetan shepherds from the north were staying here, where a not unimportant wool market is held every summer. a group of monks stood on the roof. our camp was pitched close to the foot of the monastery, on the shore road, and had a fine view over the lake and kailas behind it. at the southern wall of the convent is a yard enclosed by a stone wall, where sheep were packed like herrings in a barrel, to be shorn in turn by hindus and botias who come from almora and the border country in the south. the nomads receive eight annas ( d.) for every sheep, good interest on their live capital. the wool from sheep is said to amount to yak-loads (illust. ). [illustration: . the god of the lake rising from tso-mavang. sketch by the author.] we paid at once a visit to the monastery, where the thirteen monks and their abbot, tabga rinchen, received us with the greatest kindness and politeness, showed us everything, and explained to us the various temple halls. they had heard of my voyages on the lake, and had now seen with their own eyes my boat sailing before a favourable wind, and they expressed their sincere conviction that i must possess occult powers to defy with impunity the god of the holy lake. but they understood that this was owing to my friendship with the tashi lama, who had given me his holy blessing. the monastery tugu-gompa is a dependency of shibeling-gompa in purang, and most of the monks come from there to spend three years on the lake. they own herds in chang-tang, trade, and seem to be in good circumstances; at any rate, they help the poor pilgrims who have nothing to eat on their wanderings round tso-mavang. they receive gifts from well-to-do pilgrims. the temple halls are picturesque, handsome and in very good order. you enter from an upper balcony into an outer hall with wall paintings, among which is a picture of tso-mavang with the fish-god, madö gemo, rising from the waves (illust. ). he has seven water-snakes in his hair, and the lower part of his body is like a green dolphin. the lake is as deep as it is broad, and concentric rings encircle the rising god. the abbot said that the fish-god comes up to greet the god of tso-mavang, hlabsen dorche barva, who gallops in a cloud of grey fiery tongues and smoke on a pink horse, and is armed with spear, bow and quiver. in the background stands kang-rinpoche, the holy mountain. the whole picture is wanting in perspective and proportion, but it is curious and interesting, and the lamaist artist has done his best to idealize the holy lake by his drawing and colouring. i made a copy of this work of art, which has some relationship with our old country paintings. from the entrance hall a small door gives access to the holiest shrine in all tugu-gompa, namely, the hall of the lake god. he is represented only as a mask, surrounded by _kadakhs_, and seems to peep out from between curtains. a couple of flames burn before him and the usual bowls are placed on a stool table. no man but the monks themselves may enter this little alcove, but i obtained permission to sit on the threshold and draw a sketch of it (illust. ). i regarded this unknown hlabsen dorche barva almost with reverence, for he ruled over my beloved lake and had been so gracious to me. but the finest sight of all was the view from the monastery roof. the highest parts of gurla mandatta, here called mama-nani or mamo-nani, were concealed by the lower flanks, for we were too near to it, but the surface of the lake stretched out northwards to an immense distance. a lama, who had served at several different times in the convent, asserted that the lake rose to inches in rainy summers, and declared that eighteen years before the water had reached to the foot of the red façade of the monastery. this seemed improbable, for the distance between the lake and the monastery was feet, and the foot of the convent façade (the right corner looking from the strand) lay . feet above the level of the lake. i quote these figures to enable a future explorer to determine whether the lake has risen or fallen since august , . i passed the next days in the monastery, sketched the lamas at their various temple services, and fell in love with this pleasant, handsome tugu-gompa. punso lama, a young monk, was my particular friend, and showed me everything with the inexhaustible knowledge of a trained museum attendant. three officials of the devashung had established themselves in the entrance hall in the company of the four ghostly kings, and mattresses, bundles, tables, swords and guns lay or stood in profane disorder at the entrance to the dwelling of the high gods (illusts. , , ). meanwhile robert rowed out from the southern shore, and sounded the depths down to the contour of feet. on august , we paid a visit to yanggo-gompa, which contains ten monks and a nun. they told me that they came from the hor country in the north of central tibet, and therefore call themselves horpa, but also dokpa; the changpa are the nomads of chang-tang. the abbot is from sekiya-gompa. in the monastery's _gunkang_, a dark subterranean crypt, hang masks, _kadakhs_, drums, spears and guns. i asked for what purpose the monks wanted the firearms, as one of their fundamental dogmas forbids them to extinguish the light of life, and they answered that with these guns many wild yaks had been killed, whose flesh had been used for human food, and that therefore the guns had been installed in a place of honour in the monastery. yamba tsering, a monk twenty-two years old, sat with his head against a wooden pillar, and gazed in silence at the dim light which fell into the crypt through an impluvium; he looked like a dreamer, a searcher after hidden truth (illust. ). beside him sat the wrinkled nun. both found their way into my sketch-book (illusts. , ). the foot of the monastery façade lies exactly ¾ feet above the level of the lake, and the river richen-chu, entering the lake behind the convent, discharges . cubic feet of water. yanggo-gompa was the third of the eight monasteries of the holy lake which i had visited, and i wished to see them all without exception. and i also wished to gauge all the streams falling into the lake. it fluctuates from day to day, according as there is rain or sunshine, but only by exact measurements could i arrive at the volume which is poured into the clear basin of tso-mavang during a day of summer. chapter xlvi a stormy voyage over the holy lake on august we stayed at tugu-gompa, one of the most interesting monasteries i have seen in tibet. i was engaged all day long, with robert and rabsang to assist me, in measuring with a tape the dimensions of the three storeys, and drawing plans of them. the third, however, is little more than a roof balcony. i have no space to give the results here. as we were on the roof, eight monks were sitting in the inner court counting their receipts, which were duly entered in a cash-book. their rupees and _tengas_ lay in heaps on a short-legged table. i gave a handful of rupees, throwing them among the piles, and disturbing the calculations of the monks. however, they were very thankful for this unexpected contribution, which seemed to fall from heaven. about thirty hindu pilgrims set up their shabby tents near us. in the evening they lighted a fire on a flat metal dish, which was pushed out on to the water, and shone like a beacon fire by the bank. this floating pyre was meant as a homage to the lake. on august i was awakened early when the sun was pouring fresh gold over the blue lake, and a lama on the convent roof was blowing long-drawn heavy notes from his shell horn over the surface. i hastened to the shore where the boat lay ready with its usual equipment, shukkur ali and tundup sonam put the sounding-line in order and stowed our baggage. the hindus lined the bank like the wild-geese, left their clothing on land, and waded, with only a cloth round their loins, to bathe in the holy beatifying water of the lake. it must be very refreshing to people from the close jungles of india to wash in such a cool morning in water at only a few degrees above freezing-point. most of them, however, go in no farther than up to their knees. there they squat down, or scoop up the water in their joined hands, and throw it over them. they make symbolical signs, fill their mouth with water and send it out in a stream, hold their hands flat against their faces and look at the rising sun, and perform all kinds of absurd, complicated manipulations, which i remember seeing at the ghâts of benares. they are sunburnt, thin and miserable, and they are too thinly clad--i did not see a single sheepskin--and they complain of the severity of the climate, catch chills, and come to my tent for medicine. some stood about an hour in the water before they returned to the beach to put on their clothing, and then they sat in groups talking. but they return to the valleys of india convinced that they have performed an action well-pleasing to the gods, and they take with them small metal-bottles filled with holy water from manasarowar to give to their relations. they believe that one of the ways of salvation runs past manasarowar. they are always hopeful, and that is a fine thing for poor pilgrims on the face of the earth. [illustration: . temple hall of the lake-god of tso-mavang.] [illustration: . chenresi's image in tugu-gompa. sketches by the author.] they stared with astonishment at our boat, which was driven out from the shore by powerful strokes, perhaps with envious eyes, for many asked me afterwards to let them go with me, that they might for the rest of their lives look back to the time when they floated on the sacred waves. the lake lay smooth and still, but at the first sounding-station ( feet), the lake god shook himself, a north-westerly breeze sprang up, and the waves splashed and danced briskly against our bow, for our third line of soundings was carried north, ° w., towards camp no. . we sounded , , , , , , and feet, while the waves increased, and the boat rode well but with diminished speed. gurla mandatta was almost clear, but kailas was buried in clouds. the wind fell and the sun glowed, and everything foretold a fine day. at the ninth point the depth was less, feet; we had passed the line of soundings made in the night and its great depths. afterwards the depths were , , , , and feet. the north-westerly breeze began to blow again, and at mid-day clouds gathered in the north. a heavy bluish-grey layer of clouds sank down slowly on the mountain flanks, and from its under side rain fringes hung down, greyish-purple on a compact dark background. all the mountains and the whole strand disappeared, and the masses of cloud seemed as though they would fall on the lake. we passed the fifteenth station, which showed a depth of feet, and kept a steady course towards the red promontory. the rowers put forth all their strength when i had pointed out to them that we were drawing near to the shelter of the bank, and that the waves were becoming smaller the farther we advanced. we had left gossul-gompa a good distance to the left; i could not see the monastery myself, but the men saw it as a small white speck in the distance. just before one o'clock yellow swirls of dust and sand appeared near the landspit which we were making for. they became denser and larger, and looked yellow and dismal on the dark purple background of gathering clouds. it was not the first time i had seen such storm warnings. "we are in for a storm," i said quietly. "god is with us," replied shukkur ali quite as calmly. "row on and we shall get in before the waves are high." "if we turn straight to the shore, it will be nearer," suggested shukkur ali. "no, we will not alter the course, we will make straight for our goal, and we shall soon be in the shelter of the hills on the shore; there are only three soundings to be taken, and they can be left for another time." the wind fell again, and it began to rain in a few large drops, which on reaching the surface of the water remained an instant as separate round beads, as though they were covered with a film of oil. then followed an extremely heavy shower of hail which lashed the water as it streamed down, enveloped us in semi-darkness, caused the lake to leap up in millions of tiny fountains, and in two minutes made the inside of the boat white. nothing was visible but ourselves and the boat, only water and hail, which scourged the lake like rods and produced a hissing gurgle. now and then the clouds were lighted up by quivering lightning, and the thunder growled heavily and threateningly in the north. then the men turned round, but could see nothing in the mist; they were uneasy and we all felt that there was danger ahead. the hail was followed by pelting rain, a downpour of such furious impetuosity that i could not imagine any more tremendous. it fell in such quantities and with such force that we were bowed down by it. i had on three shirts and a leather vest, but after a short time i felt that the water was streaming down my bare skin, which had this advantage that all the future douches that awaited us could make no further impression. i had my fur coat on my knees with the skin side up, and in all its hollows the water collected in small pools. a quantity of water fell into the boat and washed about with the stroke of the oars. the shore was not visible, and i steered by the compass. "row on, we have not much farther to go." at length the rain became finer, but at four minutes after one o'clock, we heard a deafening roar in the north-east, a sound such as only a storm of the greatest violence can produce. hail and rain were nothing to it; now that the heavy sheets of water were withdrawn the storm had a free course and swept suddenly and furiously over the lake. why had we not started an hour earlier, instead of watching the religious ablutions of the hindus? no, the god of tso-mavang was angry and would teach us once for all not to treat so lightly the lake which splashes his dolphin's tail with its green water. how we envied the monks in gossul-gompa, and our men down in the south under the peaceful walls of the tugu monastery! what would they say, what would they do, if we were drowned like cats in this raging lake? for a minute we struggled frantically to keep our course in spite of the waves which swept upon us from the right. they swelled up with astonishing rapidity, and every wave which dashed against the taut canvas of the boat and dissolved into spray, made a cracking sound as though the little vessel were about to burst. the next was still larger; i warded it off with my indian helmet, and tundup sonam received a cold buffet which disconcerted him for a moment. after the third, which threw its foaming crest over the gunwale, the water stood inches deep in the boat, the little nutshell with the weight of three men lay far too deep in the water, and the water we had shipped gurgled, lapped, and splashed hither and thither with the roll of the boat. now i perceived that the attempt to hold our course was hopeless. we must fall off with the wind and waves. we had gossul-gompa to the south, ° w., and the storm was from the north-east; we could find refuge in the monastery, if we could get so far. the difficulty was to turn at right angles without capsizing. twice i failed, and we shipped more water, but the third time i succeeded, and now, if we had any care for our lives we must prevent the boat from veering up into the wind; the storm came a little from the right. tundup sonam, who rowed the starboard oar in the bow, had all the work, while shukkur ali had only to dip in his oar occasionally at my command, but though outwardly calm he was too excited and eager, and when my voice could not be heard amid the howling of the storm, i put my hand on his knuckles to make him leave the oar alone. now began a voyage such as i had never experienced in all my journeys in tibet. the storm increased to a hurricane, and under its pressure the waves became as high as the billows of the baltic in stormy weather; a steamer would have rolled in such a sea, and we in the little canvas boat had to negotiate the unexpected cross rolls following one another. lashed, hunted, and persecuted by the raging force of the wind, we swept over the lake. every new wave that lifted us up seemed bigger than the last. some had sharp smooth crests, as though moulded out of mountain crystal, and reflected the dark clouds in the north. it seemed as though a bottomless, watery grave yawned in front of us which might at any moment swallow up our boat. others came rolling up foam-capped, hissing and thundering behind us, and we shuddered at the thought that they might fill the boat in an instant and send it to the bottom, but it rose bravely over the crests. the view was open on all sides, the sun was visible in the south, gurla mandatta was clear and sharp, to the south, ° w., even the terrace on which gossul-gompa stands could be seen, and it was black and threatening only in the north. during the second when the boat was balanced quivering on the crest of the wave, we might fancy ourselves transplanted to a lofty pass in chang-tang with a world of mountain ranges all round us, while the foam of the waves had an illusive resemblance to the fields of eternal snow. but this wave also passes on and the boat sinks into a hollow, we fall into a water grotto, the nearest waves conceal the view, the walls of the grotto are of the purest malachite behind us and like emerald in front. now we are lifted up again--"at it, tundup sonam, or the huge foaming crest will thrust us down!"--he puts forth all his strength and the wave passes us. it is irregular and reminds us of the pyramidal summit of kubi-gangri; two such crests tower up in front of us, and their edges are shattered into spray by the wind. they are as transparent as glass, and through one of them the image of gurla mandatta's bright white snowfields is refracted as in a magnifying glass. we have a watery portal in front of us and the tips of the waves are gilded with the faint reflexion of the sun in the south. [illustration: . the lhakang hall in tugu-gompa. sketch by the author.] we struggle bravely and i sit on the bottom of the boat pushing the rudder with all my strength to keep the boat in the right direction, while the spray, lashed by the wind, spurts over us as from a fire-hose. frequently a broken crest slips over the gunwale, but we have not a hand free to bale out the water. we see the boat filling slowly--shall we reach the bank before it sinks? the mast and sail lie with two reserve oars tied fast across the middle of the boat. if we could set a sail the boat would be easier to handle, but it is not to be thought of now, when we can hardly keep our balance sitting down and stiffening ourselves with our feet, with the heavy blows and the unexpected positions the boat assumes according to the form of the waves, their slopes, curves and curls. and, besides, in such a storm the mast would break like glass. we had turned at right angles to our line of soundings for now we thought only of saving our lives, if that were possible--to reach the land before the boat sank. then, in the most critical moment, when an irregular wave threatened the boat, i called on tundup sonam to put forth all his strength, and he did it too well, so that the oar broke with a crack. now all hung by a hair, we could not manage the boat and it must inevitably capsize and be swamped under this foaming crest. but tundup sonam realized the danger, and with a quick grasp tore loose a reserve oar, while shukkur ali backed with the leeward oar; after another douche we trimmed the boat again. the longer the storm lasts and the larger the expanse of lake left behind us in the north-east, the higher rise the waves; we are swept forwards, we rock up and down on the lumpy lake, and fresh cold douches are constantly poured over us from the crests as they split into spray like plumes of feathers. how small and helpless we feel in the presence of these roused infuriated forces of nature, how imposing and awful, and yet how grand and splendid is this spectacle! the two men had never in their lives seen anything to equal it. i sit with my back to the pursuing billows, but the men have them before their faces, and i know when large waves are approaching by their muttered "ya allah!" tundup is as pale as he can be with a sun-tanned skin; shukkur ali seems composed, but he does not sing to-day as he dips in his oar. tundup afterwards confided to me that he was quite convinced that we should perish. it is impossible to keep my eye-glasses dry and clear, and i have not for a long time had a dry thread on me. shukkur ali turns round and says that the monastery is in sight, but it is too far for my eyes. "look at the wave yonder," i call out. "is it not beautiful?" he smiles and murmurs his "ya allah." its crest breaks close to us like a waterfall, and, air being forced into the water, it rises again in bubbling foam and the lake seems to boil and seethe. hitherto there has been drizzling rain, but now the air is clear. the lake assumes a different hue, the waves are dark and bright, close to us black as ink, but lighter towards their tips, and the horizon of the lake is often seen through the next wave as through a sheet of ice. thus we are driven on, and the time seems endless. for five quarters of an hour we have striven with the freaks of the lake god, and every minute has seemed to us an hour. at last the monastery gossul appears and grows larger, the details becoming distinguishable, and i see the white façade with its upper border of red, its windows and roof streamers, and some monks behind a balustrade with their eyes fixed on the boat. and below the cloister terrace there is wild foaming surf. how we are to land i cannot imagine; i have experienced such adventures before, but never anything as furious as to-day. we envy the monks up above with firm ground under their feet, and should like to be beside them. the log has been out all the time, and now i draw it in with a quick pull and call out to the men to be ready to jump overboard when i give the sign. i place the note-book and the map i have sketched to-day, all dripping with water, into the front of my leather vest, that at any rate i may not lose the figures i have obtained. [illustration: . lama with prayer-drum.] [illustration: . lama before the temple door in tugu-gompa. sketches by the author.] we have only a few minutes more. with the help of shukkur ali i manage to get out of my heavy soaked boots, and have scarcely done so when the boat is pitched violently into the breakers on the shore. here the water is as brown as oatmeal, and the undertow sucks out the boat again. now tundup sonam wishes to jump out of the boat but i advise him to try first with the oar if he can reach the bottom; he feels no ground and has to wait patiently. the boat receives a blow from behind and threatens to capsize; the oarsmen work as if they were possessed to fight against the undertow, and before i am aware tundup has jumped out, and, up to his breast in water, draws the boat shorewards with all his might. now we two follow his example, and with our united strength succeed at last in drawing the boat up the beach before the raging surf can dash it to pieces. one more hard pull and we have drawn it up over the mud embankment into the lagoon, which the waves cannot reach. now we had had enough, and we threw ourselves down on the sand, quite tired out. the fearful excitement and tension of body and mind during an hour and a half was followed by stupor and weariness; we had nothing to say to one another, and i gave no orders for the night. we were shipwrecked men, and had every reason to be pleased and thankful that we had firm ground under our feet again, and had escaped safely from the green graves which had yawned below us, threatening to engulf us if we had not been on the alert in critical moments. we had only dozed a few minutes when two monks and three young novices came gently over the sand and approached us cautiously, as if they were not quite certain whether we were alive or dead. when we got up they greeted us kindly, and inquired how we were and whether we needed help. they were deeply interested, and told us how they had seen from their balcony the boat tossing on the waves, and had been convinced that it must founder in the unusually violent storm that had swept over the lake. they had been frightened to death, and said that it was fearful to see the boat sink in the trough of the waves, and every moment they expected that it would not appear again. on landing we were immediately below them, and the sight was too terrible. were we hurt at all, and would we come up into the monastery and spend the night in their warm rooms? but i thanked them for their kind offers and preferred to sleep as usual in the open air. if they could get us fuel and food we should be much obliged. they bowed and disappeared in their maze of staircases, and presently came back with sacks full of dung, brushwood, and billets, and soon a grand fire was burning on the terrace. they kindled it themselves, for our matches and tinder were quite useless. then they went off to fetch some eatables, for the contents of our packet of provisions were turned into paste by the water. meanwhile we made ourselves comfortable on the narrow strip of ground below the monastery. two large caves opened into the terrace, their vaults black with smoke, for pilgrims and herdsmen spend the night in them. they would have sheltered us from the wind, but they were so dirty that we preferred to pitch our camp at the edge of the bank. it was wet with rain, but we scraped out dry sand with our hands. the boat was taken to pieces and emptied--it was half full of water--and then it was set up by the fire as a screen. when the fire had burned up and was glowing hot, we stripped ourselves stark naked, wrung out one garment after another, and crouched by the fire to dry our under-clothing and ourselves. each had to look after himself, for we were all in the same plight. i spread out my things as near as possible to the fire and hung them over the oars and life-buoys to expose them to the wind and heat. meanwhile i dried my woollen vest bit by bit, turned it inside out, held it to the fire on this side and that, out and inside, and when it was quite dry put it on again. then came the turn of my unmentionables, then of my stockings, and so on. nothing could be done with the leather waistcoat and the fur coat; they would not be dry by night, but what did it matter? it was at any rate better here than in the crystal halls of the lake king. it is still broad daylight, but the storm rages, gurla mandatta and all the country to the south has disappeared, for the gale is passing off in that direction. there is fine close rain again. falcons scream in the holes of the pebbly slopes--dangerous neighbours for the bluish-grey pigeons cooing on the rocks. the monks came down again with sweet and sour milk and _tsamba_, tea we had ourselves, and the simple dinner tasted delicious. then we sat a couple of hours by the fire while the storm continued. i dried my diary and entered the notes which form the contents of this chapter. between whiles shukkur ali entertained me with stories of his adventures during his travels in the service of younghusband and wellby. now that he had escaped death by the skin of his teeth, the past returned more vividly to his memory, and when once he was started on his reminiscences he could not be stopped, good old shukkur ali. i listened with one ear and wrote with the other--i had almost said--not to appear uninterested; and, after all, the chief thing to shukkur ali was that he could prattle. at last the northern sky becomes clear, and all the mountains are white with snow; before only kailas and its next neighbours were distinguished by white caps, but now all is white. we are certainly past the early days of august, but is it possible that autumn is already beginning? the summer has been so short that we have hardly had time to get accustomed to it. another night falls on the earth. impenetrable darkness surrounds us, and only in the zenith a few stars sparkle. the swell still roars against the strand, but tso-mavang is gently falling asleep. above us towers the monastery on its steep wall like a fortress, and the monks have retired to rest. the falcons are heard no more, and the pigeons have sought their nests. chapter xlvii on the roof of the gossul monastery in the middle of the night i was awaked by a terrible row; a dog from the monastery had crept under my men's half of the boat to see what it could find, but chanced to fall into the hands of shukkur ali, and got a good thrashing. the temperature fell to . °. rabsang came riding up at sunrise. the men had feared that we must have perished in the waves. he brought provisions and a packet of letters from thakur jai chand, the british commercial agent in gartok, who was at the time in gyanima, where the fair was being held. he wrote that colonel dunlop smith had directed him on june to try to obtain news of me. guffaru had performed his task satisfactorily, and all my baggage was safely deposited in gartok, and my voluminous correspondence had been forwarded to simla. from mr. sherring, who had made a journey to manasarowar some years previously, i received a very kind letter; he had also had the kindness to send me his interesting book on western tibet, while his wife had added a whole packet of english and french newspapers, literature the more acceptable that the extensive library presented to me by o'connor had long been read through and dispersed to the four winds of heaven. it was a singular coincidence that where i had suffered shipwreck i was so unexpectedly brought again into contact with the outer world. i was deeply moved by rabsang's information that the monks in tugu-gompa, when they saw the storm burst over our frail boat, had burnt incense before the images of the lake-god and implored him to deliver us from the waves. they had done it of their own accord, and not at the request of any one. they said it would be deplorable if we were lost; they had a heart, and were not so unfeeling as might be supposed. few proofs of sympathy have touched me like this. accompanied by rabsang, i ascended in the early morning the winding path up to the monastery. at the turns and projections stand cubical _chhortens_ and votive cairns, and here and there a streamer flutters on a mast. a _samkang_, a hermit's dwelling, hangs over a cavern produced by the fall of a huge mass from the slope of the pebble terrace eleven years ago. i told the monks that they should not put too much confidence in the ground on which their monastery stands. they reckon millions of years for the soul's wanderings, but their earthly dwellings are not built for eternity. they answered calmly that the monastery had already stood for one hundred years, and that it would certainly stand as long as they were living there; for in general the monks are changed every three years, and they come here from the monastery shibeling in purang, by which they are maintained. there are only three of them, but i saw also four novices, seven, nine, ten, and eleven years old respectively, running about as actively as mice, and waiting on the monks. their mother, a nun from purang, also lives in the monastery. she had been married before she "took the veil," and when her husband died she dedicated herself and all her children to the church. i afterwards learned that one of the "boys" was a girl; they were so like one another that i could not distinguish between them. at first they were shy and timid, but after i had given them a few silver coins they were soon at ease with me. they appeared small and stunted for their age, but the abbot told me that they had mourned so much at the death of their father that their growth was checked. almost all the day they were bringing water from the lake in clay jugs, which they carried in a basket suspended by a strap round their forehead; they carry therefore with the muscles of the head and neck, which are consequently so much developed that they seem too large for the body. but they also receive instruction and take their first uncertain steps in the domain of wisdom; the eldest is said to have already acquired considerable knowledge. i went into the temple and studied it thoroughly. i remained there twelve hours, drew, took measurements, made all kinds of inquiries, and took notes. every part is handsome, interesting, and well-kept. the _lhakang_ is like an old armoury, a museum of fine, rare articles, which show great artistic skill, and have been designed, carved, modelled, and painted with unwearied patience and real taste. the hall, supported by eight pillars, has two red divans; a statue of buddha in gilded bronze, and a number of other idols; drums hanging in stands, lacquered tables with the usual religious objects, and a large quantity of votive bowls in the brightest brass and of uncommon, tasteful forms. on both sides of the pillars hang _tankas_ in four rows, which are as long as standards and triumphal banners, and are so arranged that they do not prevent the light from playing on the faces of the gods. in a corner surely waves a swedish flag? ah, it is only a blue and yellow _tanka_, but it reminds me of the golden period of our fame and victories. the _lhakang_ of gossul is not built on the usual plan; the skylight is wanting, and instead there are three windows in the façade facing the lake. but the gods do not see the lake, for the windows are pasted over with paper on a trellis-work of laths. why is the beautiful view concealed and the daylight excluded? to enhance the mystical gloom within and excite the greater wonder and reverence in the minds of the pilgrims who come in half-blinded from the daylight, and that they may not see that the gold is only gilded brass, and that the marks of the brush and the chisel may not be too profanely evident. the poorer a monastery, the darker are its temple halls; the darkness hides their poverty and helps the monks to impose on the faithful. [illustration: . yanggo-gompa.] [illustration: . interior of the temple, tugu. sketches by the author.] somchung is the name of a small compartment no larger than a cabin. on its divan are cushions and pieces of cloth arranged in circles to form two nests, in which two monks sit during the night service. on the altar table before sakya-muni's image stand forty bowls filled with water, and on another table some peacock's feathers in a silver vase, with which the gods are sprinkled with holy water to the cry "om a hum." in former times robbers and footpads harboured here, and had their hiding-places in the caves below the monastery. from these they fell upon the pilgrims and killed many of them. then the god of tso-mavang appeared to jimpa ngurbu, a noble lama, and ordered him to build the monastery, that it might be a sure stronghold for the protection of pilgrims, and for the honour of the gods. even now the country is not safe. last year two scoundrels, who had plundered the nomads, were taken and executed; and we ourselves saw ten gurkhas, armed with guns, who rode past us in search of a robber band which had stolen their horses and sheep. the monks said that the lake usually freezes in january; in stormy weather the ice breaks up, but when the weather is calm and the frost is sharp, the whole lake freezes over in a single day, and breaks up again in a single day when it is stormy. unfortunately the statements made about the level of the water and the discharge are contradictory and untrustworthy. a lama, thirty-five years of age, now staying here, had lived on tso-mavang as a child. he said that he well remembered the time when the water flowed out of the lake to rakas-tal in such quantities that a horseman could not cross the channel, which is called ganga, without danger. but now this channel had ceased to carry water for nine years. i was shown where the shore line ran last autumn, five fathoms farther inland, so that the lake must then have been ½ inches higher. i was also shown a yellow block of stone, to which the water was said to have reached twelve years ago, and this point lay - / feet above the present level of the lake. such a rate of fall is improbable, though this statement accorded fairly well with the information i had received at tugu-gompa. the threshold of the one cave lay now . feet, and that of the other . feet from the shore, . feet above the water. i was told that when the monastery was built, one hundred years ago, the lake had reached both these caves, and that only a small path was left along the strand by which the caves could be approached. however, the dates of the tibetans are exceedingly uncertain, and to arrive at safe conclusions we must resort to the statements of european travellers. i will make a few remarks on them later. when i asked one of the monks what became of all the water poured into tso-mavang by all the rivers and brooks, he replied: "however much it rains, and though all the tributaries are full to overflowing, no change is noticeable in the lake, for as much water is evaporated as flows in. in our holy books it is written that if all the tributaries failed, the lake would not sink and disappear, for it is eternal and is the abode of high gods. but now we see with our own eyes that it is always falling, and we do not know what this means." the following records may be useful to future explorers: the lower edge of the massive threshold of the main gateway in the façade of gossul-gompa lay on august , , exactly . feet above the surface of the lake, as i ascertained by the help of a reflecting level. [illustration: . a dreamer. lama in yanggo-gompa on manasarowar. drawn by t. macfarlane from a sketch by the author.] we ascended to the roof of gossul-gompa. it is flat, as usual, with a chimney, parapet, and streamers. no language on earth contains words forcible enough to describe the view from it over the lake. it was, indeed, much the same as we had seen from various points on the shore, but the light and shade was so enchanting and the colouring so wonderful that i was amazed, and felt my heart beat more strongly than usual as i stepped out of the dark temple halls on to the open platform. tundup sonam said in his simple way that the lake with its encircling mountains seemed like the sky with its light clouds. i, too, was the victim of an illusion which almost made me catch at the parapet for support. i wondered whether it was a fit of giddiness. i took, to wit, the border of mountains on the eastern shore for a belt of light clouds, and the surface of the sea for part of the sky. the day was perfectly calm and the lake like a mirror, in which the sky was reflected; both looked exactly the same, and were of the same colour, and the mountains, which in consequence of the distance were all blended into a dark shadow, were like a girdle of clouds. the air was not clear, everything was of a dull subdued tone, there was no colour to speak of, but all was grey--sky, land, and water, with a tinge of blue, a fairy scene of glass, with decorations of white gauze seen through a thin blue veil of incense rising from the altar of the mighty god of the lake. what has become of the earth, if all is sky and clouds? we are not totally bewitched, for we are standing on the roof of the monastery leaning against the parapet. a dream-picture in the most ethereal transitory tones floats before us. we seem to stand on a promontory jutting out into endless space, which yawns around us and in front. and where is now the holy lake, which yesterday nearly robbed us of life, and on which the storm was so furious that i still seem to feel the ground quaking under my feet? has the gossul monastery been changed by some whim of the gods into an air-ship which is bearing us away to another planet? its streamers hang motionless on their poles, and nothing can be seen of the mountains, country, and ground. "oh yes, if you lean a little over the parapet," says a monk, smiling. true! then the illusion vanishes, to my great chagrin. i should have liked to remain a while under its enchantment. just below us runs the narrow margin on the bank, with its black dam of clay and water-weeds, and its elongated lagoons. through the crystal-clear water we see the yellowish-grey mud on the lake bottom, the dark fringe of weeds, and the dark depths beyond. it is like a huge aquarium covered with plate-glass. two flocks of geese are swimming on the water, producing diverging ripples. all is so indescribably quiet; so ethereal, transparent, and transitory, so subtile and sensitive, that i scarcely dare breathe. never has a church service, a wedding march, a hymn of victory, or a funeral made a more powerful impression on me. did fate compel me to pass my life in a monastery in tibet, i would without hesitation choose gossul-gompa. there i would observe the fluctuations of the lake and the annual curves of the temperature. i would sit up there like a watchman, gaze over the lake, and watch how its aspect changed every hour during the twelve months of the year. i would listen to the howling of the autumn storms, and would notice on calm november days how the belt of ice along the shore broadened from day to day, if only to melt again in the course of a day. the ring of ice would creep on ever nearer to the middle of the lake, be destroyed again and again by new gales, and then begin again to enchain the waters. and at length, on a day in january, when the layers of water were cooled through and through and no wind disturbed the air, i should see the god of tso-mavang stretch a ringing roof of glass over his green palace, and the winter storms bestrew it with white powder and drive the whirling snow in dense clouds over the ice, with its smooth, dark-green surface peeping out here and there. and on calm days the lake would lie a white plain, lifeless and lonely under its white shroud, and i should sit by the bier of my friend longing for the spring. in vain would the first storms of spring contend with the solidity of the ice and its brave resistance, but at last the sun would come to help the wind, and would make the ice brittle and rotten. leads and fissures would start up in all directions, and the next storm that swept over the ice would overcome all resistance, flinging about the ice blocks and piling them up one on another, driving them to the shore, and sweeping breakers over them so that they would be crushed, splintered, pulverized, and melted in the rolling surf. then i should rejoice at the victory of the storm, the release of tso-mavang and its restoration to life, and would listen to the song of the waves and the screaming of the wild geese. [illustration: . the old nun in yanggo-gompa. sketch by the author.] perhaps an hour such as i spent at the parapet of gossul comes only once a year. the effect is the result of a certain temperature, a certain percentage of humidity, calm air, preceded by rain and a north-easterly storm. how seldom are all these conditions fulfilled? at most once a year, and just at this hour, this hour of all hours, i stood on the roof and saw the blue lake at rest after its play. wonderful, attractive, enchanting lake! theme of story and legend, playground of storms and changes of colour, apple of the eye of gods and men, goal of weary, yearning pilgrims, holiest of the holiest of all the lakes of the world, art thou, tso-mavang, lake of all lakes. navel of old asia, where four of the most famous rivers of the world, the brahmaputra, the indus, the sutlej, and the ganges, rise among gigantic peaks, surrounded by a world of mountains, among which is kailas, the most famous in the world; for it is sacred in the eyes of hundreds of millions of hindus, and is the centre of a wreath of monasteries where every morning blasts of conches sound out from the roofs over the lake. axle and hub of the wheel, which is an image of life, and round which the pilgrims wander along the way of salvation towards the land of perfection. that is manasarowar, the pearl of all the lakes of the world. hoary with age when the books of the veda were written, its blue billows have in the course of centuries seen innumerable troops of faithful hindus and tibetans arrive at its banks, there to drink, bathe, and find rest for their souls. there are certainly more beautiful lakes in the world. its western neighbour, for instance, langak-tso, is more picturesque. but there is none which unites with natural beauty such an influence on the faith and souls of men. that is why the roar of its waves is so attractive, and a sojourn on its shore so fascinating. standing up on the convent roof, while silence reigns around, one fancies one hears innumerable wanderers approaching, and the echo of their stumbling feet on the holy path around the lake. and one casts a glance into the night of past centuries, which have left no trace of their aspirations and vain search after an imaginary blessedness. but tso-mavang remains the same as it was then, and its azure-blue eye sees new generations treading in the footsteps of the old. after such an hour everything else seems commonplace. not till the blush of evening flooded the lake with a purple tinge could i tear myself away and go down to my camp on the shore. once more i turned to tso-mavang and called out a loud prolonged "om a hum." rabsang said nothing, but i could see that he was wondering whether i had become the latest convert of the lamaistic church, and with the more reason because i had insisted on travelling round the lake in the orthodox direction--southwards by the east bank and northwards by the west bank. the tracks of yaks were discernible in the sand, which had passed northwards in the morning laden with brick tea. an old hindu, who was performing the circuit of the lake in the same direction as the tibetans, begged to be allowed to camp beside us, because he was afraid of robbers; we regaled him with tea, bread, and tobacco, and he asked us to accept a handful of rice. it is singular that the hindu pilgrims seem to hold the lamaistic monasteries in veneration; at least i saw them bow before the lamaistic gods in tugu-gompa, and place a handful of rice in the bowl which a monk held out to them. after a temperature of . ° in the night the morning air seemed quite warm. a fresh easterly breeze ruffled the surface of the lake, and the foam-tipped waves shone in the sun, but the day was beautiful and i was full of life, and eager to go out upon the lake. the old hindu said that he had resolved to postpone his pilgrimage and go with us in the boat, but i assured him that we would take no unnecessary ballast. but he followed us on the bank as we rowed through the surf to camp no. , easily recognizable by its old fire-place, and when we steered thence seawards straight towards tugu-gompa, visible as a white speck in the south-east, he was so eager to go with us that he ran into the water and did not turn back till it reached to his middle. he was certainly a little silly; he had talked nonsense all the evening, though no one had listened to him. [illustration: . the holy lake manasarowar from tugu-gompa, with kailas in the background. water-colour sketch by the author.] the new line of soundings was marked no. on my map of the lake. its greatest depth was feet. at the ninth sounding-station the red metal disc of the current-meter became entangled in the sounding-line. it was torn away from its screws and twisted like a boomerang in mad gyrations down through the crystal-clear water to a depth of feet, there to sleep in the mud of tso-mavang till the day of judgment. fortunately it could easily be replaced. when we landed at the monastery, all our men, and the monks and the pilgrims on the shore, were there to receive us. the first we caught sight of was the old crazy hindu. his fellow-countrymen had taken it for granted that we must have perished in the storm, and therefore were very astonished to see us come back alive. but as i was now here again, they thought that they might take advantage of it, and asked me to present them one and all with new trousers, a request that i considered very importunate. on august i sat in my tent door and painted kailas in different lights (illust. ). its white summit stood out cold and bare against a bright blue cloudless sky, and the lake was of a deep, dazzling ultramarine. when a breeze swept over the surface it was in the distance like clear green malachite. after sunset the sky was orange-coloured, and the lake, of just the same colour, reflected the outlines of the mountains in quivering serpentine lines. the evening before, the whole western horizon had glowed with bright red flames. chapter xlviii our last days on tso-mavang at this time robert had perfected himself more than i in the tibetan language, and he talked it almost fluently. therefore, while my whole time was taken up with other work, he was able to obtain information about the country and people, and perform certain tasks i set him. on the left, shorter wall of the vestibule of tugu-gompa was an inscription for the enlightenment of pilgrims, and this robert now translated into hindustani and english. freely rendered it runs as follows: tso-mavang is the holiest place in the world. in its centre dwells a god in human form, who inhabits a tent composed of turquoise and all kinds of precious stones. in the midst of it grows a tree with a thousand branches, and every branch contains a thousand cells in which a thousand lamas live. the lake tree has a double crown, one rising like a sunshade and shading kang-rinpoche, the other overshadowing the whole world. each of the branches bears an image of a god, and all these images turn their faces towards gossul-gompa, and in former times all the gods gathered together here. once golden water was fetched from the lake, and with it the face of hlobun rinpoche in chiu-gompa was gilded, and what was left was used to gild the temple roofs of tashi-lunpo. in old times the water of the lake flowed over a pass named pakchu-la to the ganga-chimbo. water flows into the lake from all sides, cold, warm, hot, and cool. water passes from the lake to the ganga-shei and comes back again. vapour rises annually from the lake and hovers over it once in the year, and then sinks down into the centre, and the next year the process is repeated. if any one brings up clay from the middle of the lake, that clay is really gold. the lake is the property of the lake-god. the lake is the central point of the whole world. sambu tashi grew out of the lake tree. sochim pema dabge is of very holy, clear, and pure water. the gyagar shilki _chhorten_ stands in the lake. the palace of the lake-god is in the lake. all the lamas there recite their prayers with one voice. all the gods assemble together in the lake and sit there among _chhortens_ of all kinds, embellished with gold and precious stones. the spirit king of the southern land resides here in a golden house, and is not angry when any one comes to wash and purify himself. if we pray to the spirit king of the southern land, we shall be very wealthy and fortunate. four large rivers and four small flow out of the lake by underground channels. the four large ones are one warm, one cold, one hot, and one cool. (the karnali, brahmaputra, indus, and sutlej.) if any one washes in the lake he is cleansed from sin and all impurities. if any one washes once in the lake, the sins of his forefathers are forgiven, and their souls are relieved from purgatorial fires. datping ngacha came with pilgrims from kang-rinpoche to wash in the lake. lo mato gyamo met him and begged him to come to tso-mavang. dachung ngacha and the pilgrims came with heaps of flowers and strewed them in the lake. dachung ngacha went three times round the lake and then ascended into heaven. of particular interest is the suggestion made here that the four large rivers stream out of tso-mavang by subterranean passages. as regards the sutlej this belief is, in my opinion, quite correct. i was told that the fifth tashi lama, whose mausoleum we had seen in tashi-lunpo, once made the pilgrimage to tso-mavang and went down to the shore at tugu-gompa to offer a _kadakh_ to the lake-god. the _kadakh_ remained suspended in the air, that is, it was actually hanging on one of the branches of the holy tree, but as the tree is only visible to rinpoches and genuine incarnations, the _kadakh_ seemed to ordinary mortals to hang alone in the air. on august we bade a long farewell to the amiable monks of tugu-gompa, and gave them liberal presents. they accompanied us down to the shore, when we put off on our voyage westwards. into a large lagoon of the shore, brown and dirty owing to the numerous gulls and wild geese which here wallow in the mud, a brook from gurla mandatta runs, and now discharges . cubic feet of water in a second. all the way along runs a rubbish heap, the continuation of the pebble terrace on which tugu-gompa stands. the lake bed consists sometimes of sand, sometimes of detritus--offshoots of the detritus cone of gurla mandatta. large collections of weeds form dark patches. up above, at the mouths of two valleys of gurla, are seen foaming streams, and it is strange that they do not debouch into the lake. but the explanation is easy. twenty to fifty yards from the bank numerous small holes in the sand of the lake bed open and close like the valves of an artery, and the surface of the lake above them bubbles. these are springs. the streams disappear in the detritus cone, and the water runs below over impermeable layers of glacial clay. at the edge of the cone the water comes up again under the surface of the lake. i perceived, then, that i must gauge the rivers at the points where they emerge from the mountain valleys, if i would ascertain the exact amount of the tribute tso-mavang receives. near camp , quite close to the shore, a spring came to the surface, and where it welled up it had a temperature of . °, and therefore brought down the cold of the glaciers to the lake. as the melted water of the gurla glaciers retains its low temperature on its subterranean course, it probably assists in keeping the water of the lake cool during the summer. whole shoals of fish sported at the surface of the water, and snapped at plumed gnats, which were gathered in thick clouds. on august i rode with rabsang and a tibetan up to the foot of gurla mandatta. we crossed the great highway between tugu-gompa and purang. a wolf took to flight; occasionally a hare leapt up out of the steppe grass, and locusts flew about noisily. we rode into the mouth of the namreldi valley, a resort of robbers, and its crystal stream, between walls of solid rock, carried cubic feet of water, as compared to the . cubic feet at the place where it enters the lake. the rest of the water, therefore, pours into the lake under the detritus. a few miles farther west we halted at the mouth of the selung-urdu valley, which has a glacier in its upper part. at half-past nine o'clock the bed was dry, but at half-past one a river with rapids and waterfalls poured down a volume of . cubic feet of exceedingly muddy water, which reached the lake in the subterranean springs. the view from this elevated spot is magnificent. we have a bird's-eye view of tso-mavang, and in the west gleams the bright blue langak-tso. the survey we can here take of the country is very instructive. the denudation cones of gurla mandatta, consisting of sand, rubbish, and boulders, extend northwards like inverted spoons; their extremities dip under the surface of the lake, and cause the fluctuating depths sounded on lines and . from camp robert executed a line of soundings at right angles to the bank down to a depth of feet. every day with its observations brought me nearer to the solution of the problem i had proposed to myself. as we rode northwards on the th along the western shore we dug wells at some places yards from the bank. the ground consisted of alternate layers of sand and clay: on the top, sand; then a layer of decaying vegetable remains; then a foot and a half of sand which rested on clay. a pit feet deep slowly filled with water up to the same level as the surface of the lake. the water permeates the sand and rests on the clay. if this layer of clay stretches, as seems likely, across the narrow isthmus to the shore of langak-tso, it is evident that the water of tso-mavang filters through the beds of sand and pebbles to the western lake. i was already convinced that even now when the old canal has ceased to act, an underground connection must exist between the two lakes. but the fact that the water of tso-mavang is quite sweet is no proof that the lake has an outlet, seeing that it is only a few years since the canal was silted up. again we encamped below the hospitable monastery gossul. on august i rode with rabsang and a tibetan across the hilly isthmus between the two lakes in order to get a look at the country on this side also. we ascended sharply to the highest point of the ridge, where there is a fine view over langak-tso with its picturesque rocky shores and projecting points and capes, its bays and islands, and its frame of steep mountains. in form it is very different from its neighbour, which is round and has no islands. we stood at a height of , feet, and therefore were feet above the surface of manasarowar. then we rode down a valley clothed with brushwood, which emerges on to the flat, irregularly curved shore belt. here are old, very plainly marked, shore lines, the highest . feet above the level of the lake. when the langak-tso stood so high it had an outlet to the sutlej, and the old bed of this river may be seen leading off from the north-eastern corner of the lake. a strong south wind blew, and rolled the waves to the shore, where i sat a good hour, drawing and making observations. then we rode again over the isthmus, at its lowest ( , feet) and broadest place. a salt swamp, begirt by hills, lies on its eastern half, quite close to the shore of tso-mavang, with its surface . feet above that of the lake. in the sand and rubbish between the two are abundant streams of water, passing from the lake to the swamp. the swamp lies in a flat hollow of clay, in which the water evaporates, and the trifling quantities of salt contained in the lake water accumulate. at this place, then, the water of the eastern lake is prevented from seeping through to the western. the following day we sailed with a favourable wind to the north-western corner of tso-mavang, where chiu-gompa stands on a pyramid of rock. this spot, camp no. , was to be our headquarters for several days. the outline of tso-mavang is like that of a skull seen from the front, and we had now to explore the very top. a day of rest was devoted to a preliminary investigation of the channel where several cold and hot springs rise up; two of the latter had temperatures of ° and ° respectively, while in testing the third a thermometer graduated up to ° did not suffice, and the tube burst. a spring of ° in a walled basin is said to be used as a medical bath, but one must be a tibetan to stew in water so hot. a small stone cabin beside it serves as a dressing-room. a little farther down the channel is spanned by a bridge constructed of four beams resting on two stone piers; it is in extraordinarily good condition, and is another proof that the canal contained water not so very long ago. on the piers of the bridge watermarks are still conspicuous ½ inches above the present stagnant pools, smelling of sulphur and full of slimy weeds, which are fed by springs. young wild-geese were swimming in one of them, and had great difficulty in protecting themselves from the brown puppy. chiu-gompa, the fifth of the eight monasteries of the lake which i visited, is small, and contains fifteen lamas who enter it for life, while the abbot is changed every three years. it owns some yaks, goats, and sheep, which are employed in transporting salt to purang, where the monks barter it for barley. one monk, a youth twenty years of age, named tsering tundup, is one of the tibetans whom i think of with particularly kind and warm feeling. his mother also lived in the monastery, and looked after the sheep and goats when they were driven in the evening into the penfolds. he was unusually handsome, refined, amiable and obliging, and showed me everything with full explanations. from his small bare cell he could dream and gaze at the holy lake in the east, and could see on the west langak-tso, despised by the gods; but yet he was melancholy, and on that account we were sympathetic. he acknowledged openly that he was weary of the monotonous life in chiu-gompa; every day was like the last, and the monks had hard work to procure a scanty subsistence, and must always be prepared for the attacks of robbers. it must be pleasanter to live as we did, and roam about freely among the mountains. he asked me if he might come with us, and i replied that i would willingly take him to ladak. then his face brightened, but he begged to be allowed to think over the matter until i returned from my next trip on the lake. it rained all night, and in the morning everything was wet--even the things in my wind-beaten and torn tent, where little puddles had been formed. but tsering came with the linen, so i was not so badly off. we had a long voyage before us, to camp no. , the first place we had encamped at on the holy lake. the programme of the excursion also included visits to the three other monasteries, the gauging of the volumes of water in the streams from the north, and the drawing of a map of the northern shore. we therefore took provisions for four days, which rabsang and adul were to transport along the bank on horses' backs. we were to meet them at the entrance to the valley serolung, at serolung-gompa. this last voyage was to complete my investigation of the lake, but precisely because it was the last it was looked forward to with fear by my men. they thought that i had so long defied the god of the lake that now my time was come, and that he would avenge himself and keep me for ever. but the morning was beautiful, and when at half-past five we rowed out over the smooth lake, the temperature was . °. the cloud cap of gurla extended down to the water, and nothing could be seen of the country to the south. the pundi mountain was covered with snow and had a wintry appearance. at the first sounding-station ( feet) the tents were seen as white specks hovering above the lake. chiu-gompa stands proudly on its rocky point, and is a landmark visible from all parts of the lake shore except from the west. at the second station the sounding was more than feet. shukkur ali and tundup sonam row like galley-slaves, for they hope to finish this line, and then the work will be at an end. sometimes the boat passes through belts of foam and weed. at the fifth station ( feet) the tents can still be seen with the glass, but after that they disappear. gossul's memorable monastery can also be dimly descried on its rock. "now we have traversed a third of the way," i said. "thank god!" replied shukkur ali. "i hope the weather will hold up to-day." a large fish floated on the water, belly up; fish washed ashore are used by the people as medicine. the depths remain the same; the lake bed is very even. but at the thirteenth point we found feet, and at the fourteenth feet, which indicated a ridge in the lake bed or a cone of detritus from the foot of the northern mountains. at about an hour's sail from the eastern shore we saw rabsang and adul coming up, and they waited for us at the rendezvous. they proposed we should pass the night in a stone cabin at the right side of the mouth of the serolung valley, but i refused, for pilgrims and tramps are wont to harbour there. six monks from the convent, old friends of ours, paid me a visit, and four happy, laughing women, black and dirty, came rushing like a whirlwind down the slopes with baskets of fuel on their backs. puppy had followed rabsang, and had found at a monastery on the way an elegant little cavalier with a red collar and bells. with a feeling of satisfaction at having completed this last line of soundings, i went to sleep on the sandy shore under the light of the everlasting stars. next day i rode with rabsang miles to the north, in order to measure the volumes of water in the pachen and pachung valleys. we arranged to meet the others on the northern shore, whither they were to row with the baggage. were we long away they were to light a beacon fire on a hill for our guidance. we followed for a time the shore with its banks of mud, small projections, and lagoons, and then we rode through the samo-tsangpo from the tokchen valley, and passed on the left hand two small lakes in the midst of rich pasturage, where a number of kiangs grazed, glared at us, pricked up their ears, and ran away at a slow gallop; then we crossed the _tasam_, or the great trunk-road, and rode up the sharply sculptured pachen valley, with a foaming river carrying . cubic feet of water. then we rode westwards, up and down hills, and enjoyed a new view of the holy lake with gurla mandatta in the background. the pachung river carried . cubic feet of water. when our work was done we rode south-westwards. wild asses were on the meadows; they are nearly tame, for no one puts an end to life on the shores of the holy lake. thirty mares stood on a mound guarded by a stallion; the sun was sinking, and perhaps this is how these animals prepare for the dangers of the night. now and again a mare left the group and made a circuit about her sisters, but the stallion ran after her immediately and forced her to return to the others. this game was frequently repeated, and it seemed to me that the mares were making sport of the stallion. we ride over swampy meadows and small sandhills; nothing can be seen of the lake; we should like to hear its waves roaring under the south-west breeze, but new hills always crop up in front of us. at last we catch sight of the smoke of the camp-fire. adul had caught a kiang foal four months old, which was ill and kept always turning round. the mother came to look after it in the night, but gave it up for lost, and it died soon after. august was spent in surveying a map of a part of the northern shore which is very slightly curved, and in a sounding excursion on the lake out to a depth of feet. while the surface water had a temperature . ° everywhere, with an air temperature about constant, the temperature at the bottom sank from . ° to ° at the depth of feet. we gradually began to suffer want. the collops which adul tried to pass off on me on the morning of the st were decidedly bad, and therefore landed in puppy's stomach. as rabsang and i rode northwards to pundi-gompa, the temperature was ° and really too warm, so that a shower of rain was not unpleasant. pundi lies on a rocky ledge in a ravine; its abbot is eighty years old, and has eight monks under him. one was a chinaman from pekin, who had lived forty years in the convent and had become a thorough tibetan, though he had not forgotten his mother tongue. from there, too, there is a splendid view over the lake. as we were about to ride down to camp no. on the shore, a messenger came from robert with the news that the authorities in parka had refused to provide us with transport animals or assist us in any way, for they had never heard that we were permitted to spend a whole month on the lake. he also said that our ladakis were much frightened by all kinds of stories of robbers which were current in the neighbourhood, so that every one was anxious for my presence. [illustration: . boy on the upper tsangpo.] [illustration: . the young prior of langbo-nan. sketches by the author.] the camp was quite close to the monastery langbo-nan, at the mouth of the gyuma-chu. after we had measured this river and ascertained that it discharged . cubic feet of water, we had tracked up all the waters pouring into manasarowar on the surface, and we found that the whole volume was . cubic feet in a second, or , , cubic feet in twenty-four hours, which would make a cube measuring nearly feet each way. but how much water flows to the lake by underground passages which we could not measure? probably a volume considerably in excess of the surface water; for manasarowar lies in a trough between huge mountains which are constantly feeding the subterranean springs. at any rate the surplus water, so far as it is not lost by evaporation, filtrates through subterranean passages to the langak-tso, which lies lower. on the nd we again rowed straight out from the bank into the lake till we reached a place where the depth was feet, and then sailed back with a favourable wind to the starting-point. it was the last time that i sank my lead in the holy water, and i was quite convinced that i should never do it again, for i had now soundings, evenly distributed over the lake and affording ample material for the construction of an isobathic map. it was comical to hear shukkur ali when i remarked to him that this was our last voyage on tso-mavang. he held his hands before his face as if he were about to pray, and said solemnly that in spite of all dangers "we had had the good fortune to bring our work to a successful conclusion by the favour of allah, the favour of the sahib, the favour of the papa and the mamma of the sahib, and the favour of all his relations." i ventured to remark that he had forgotten the favour of the lake god, but he dismissed the suggestion with a wave of the hand, and said he had no more faith in the god. afterwards i rode with rabsang up to the monastery langbo-nan, while the others went on to chiu-gompa. i shall omit here a description of this convent, where the most remarkable sight was the twelve-year-old abbot tsering, an intelligent, frank, and lively boy, with sharp bright eyes, white teeth, a fresh, healthy complexion, and an attractive appearance (illust. ). he sat on a divan before a lacquered table in his library, called _tsemchung_, and showed a great interest in all my plans, glanced into my sketch-book, tried my field-glass, and asked me for a couple of pencils. during the hour i spent in his cell we became good friends, and when at length i bade him farewell we little thought that we should meet again only a year later. as we made the round of the monastery we came in the gallery of the court upon a poor fellow who lay ill and seemed to be suffering. i asked him how he was, and he told me that on august , the day when rabsang and adul came to meet us, he was taking eleven mules and two horses laden with _tsamba_ and barley to parka, the gova of which was the owner of the caravan. where the pachung river enters the eastern lagoon he was attacked at eleven o'clock in the morning by twelve robbers, who rushed down from the direction of the pachung valley. they were all mounted, and armed with guns, swords, and spears, had two spare horses for provisions, and wore masks on their faces. they dismounted in a moment, threw a mantle over his head, tied his hands behind his back, and cleared him out, taking among other things rupees, and then they rode off again to the pachung valley, which rabsang and i had hurriedly visited the next day. he then summoned help by shouting, and in a very pitiable condition found refuge in langbo-nan. he showed us some deep stabs in his legs, his skin coat, and the saddle, which had suffered severely when he made a desperate attempt to defend himself. this was the incident which had so alarmed our ladakis. the way from here to chiu-gompa is charming. perpendicular, sometimes overhanging rocks of green and red schist fall to the shore, which here has a shingly beach only yards broad. two gigantic boulders stand like monuments on the shore, and on the rocky walls we see black caves and hermits' dwellings, and we often pass the usual three stones on which tea-kettles of pilgrims have boiled. farther to the west the projections form a series of recesses in lighter tones; at one of these cliffs a new and fascinating view is displayed. a water mark lying ½ feet above the present level of the lake is very easily recognized. on the rocky pinnacles eagles sit motionless as statues, watching for prey. chergip-gompa is built on a terrace in the broad mouth of a valley. it is a small, poor monastery, but it has its _lhakang_ and its vestibule with a large bronze bell, in which the six holy characters are cast. when the bell is rung at morning and evening the unfathomable truth is borne on the waves of sound over the lake, which, with its blue surface and its background of the snowfields of gurla mandatta, forms a charming landscape as seen from the court of the monastery. but its sound is heard by no one but chergip's single monk. poor man, what must be his feelings in winter evenings when storms sweep the drifting snow over the ice of tso-mavang! i remained with him fully two hours, for he had much to tell. he had travelled far, had been at selipuk and the nganglaring-tso, and offered to conduct me thence in twenty days to the dangra-yum-tso; he had no suspicion that i was roaming about in the forbidden land under a political ban. but he revived my desire to visit the great unknown country to the north of the holy river. i was full of thoughts, full of plans, and full of an insatiable _desiderium incogniti_ which never left me in peace, when at length i departed from the eighth and last monastery of tso-mavang as the evening spread its dark veil over the lake i had conquered. we had still a long way to go to the camp. at the last mountain spur stands a _chhorten_, from which our fire was visible. soon we sat again among our companions. late at night two horsemen rode past our camp; the watchmen called out "who's there?" but they made no answer. then rabsang awoke and thoughtlessly sent a bullet after the unknown men, being convinced that they were robbers. my men had reached such a pitch of nervousness that they saw robbers everywhere. this was our last night on the shore of the tso-rinpoche, the "holy lake," and i listened sadly to the song of the surf dying away as the wind fell. chapter xlix adventures on langak-tso i have not interrupted the description of my life on the revered lake with notices of our political troubles. suffice it to say that we succeeded in staying there a whole month. mounted and other messengers often came to make complaints, and then my men simply replied: "the sahib is out on the lake, catch him if you can; he is a friend of the lake god, and can stay as long as he likes among the branches of the holy tree." and when i came back again they had gone off. in consequence of the boat trips they could not control my movements, but when we encamped by chiu-gompa they became more energetic. during my absence came messenger after messenger with orders that i must at once betake myself to parka and continue my journey thence to ladak. on august i sent robert and rabsang to parka to make terms with the authorities, but they would not under any circumstances allow me to visit langak-tso, my next stage. if i liked to stay a month or a year at chiu-gompa it was nothing to them, for the monastery was not in their district, but the western lake was in their jurisdiction. they advised that i should come as soon as possible to parka for my own sake, and would send in the morning fifteen yaks to carry my luggage. [illustration: . temple vessels in chiu-gompa.] [illustration: . two children in shigatse. sketches by the author.] but i wished to see langak-tso at any cost. so when the fifteen yaks arrived next morning, i quickly made up my mind to send tsering, rabsang, and four men with the baggage to parka, while robert and the other six men would go with me to langak-tso. our own six horses and the last mule from poonch could easily carry the boat and our bit of luggage. the yaks were laden and my men disappeared behind the hills. my own small caravan had orders to camp on the shore of langak-tso where the old channel enters. i went with robert and two men on foot and executed a series of exact levellings over the isthmus separating the two lakes. at the same time i drew a map of the course of the channel. the measuring tape was nailed fast to an oar which robert carried; the theodolite i carried myself. the distance between the pole and the instrument amounted to yards, and was measured with tapes by our two assistants. the pole was placed on an iron dish that it might not sink into the soft ground. the lakes were visited in by moorcroft, who found no connecting channel. in october henry strachey found there an arm of the lake feet broad and feet deep. landor declared that any connection was inconceivable, for, according to him, the isthmus was feet high at its lowest part. ryder found in the late autumn of no water running out of manasarowar, but he heard from the natives that a little water passed through the channel during the rainy season. sherring also saw no running water, but he thought it probable that the lake overflowed after rainy summers. as for me, i followed the bed of the channel from one lake to the other and found that in the year no water flowed from the eastern into the western lake, and in the condition was the same, though both my visits occurred in the rainy season. there must be very heavy falls of rain before manasarowar can overflow, for the highest point of the channel bed lies more than ½ feet above the level of the eastern lake. the circumstance that different travellers in different years have given different accounts is, however, very easily explained. all depends on the precipitation: if it is abundant, the surface of manasarowar rises; if it is very abundant its water drains off to the langak-tso (rakas-tal). if the summer is dry, as in the year , the langak-tso receives no water through the channel, but certainly by subterranean passages. on the whole, both these lakes are falling like the other lakes of tibet, and the time is approaching when the subterranean outlet will be cut off and both lakes will be salt. as we deliberately measured the channel and came to its highest point from which its bed dips towards the west, i threw a farewell glance at tso-mavang, and experienced a feeling of bereavement at the thought that i must now leave its shores, and in all probability for ever. for i had known this gem of lakes in the light of the morning red and in the purple of sunset, in storms, in howling hurricanes when the waves rose mountain high, in fresh southerly breezes when the waves sparkled like emeralds, in full sunshine when the lake was smooth as a mirror, in the silver beams of the moon when the mountains stood out like white spectres after the dull yellow light of evening was extinguished, and in peaceful nights when the stars twinkled as clearly on the smooth surface of the lake as above in the vault of heaven. i had passed a memorable month of my life on this lake, and had made friends with the waves and become intimately acquainted with its depths. to this day i can hear the melodious splash of the raging surf, and still tso-mavang lingers in my memory like a fairy tale, a legend, a song. we went on westwards along narrow creeks and pools of stagnant water, but when the evening had become so dusky that i could no longer read the figures on the measuring pole, we gave up work, marked the last fixed point, and made for the camp, which we reached in complete darkness. in the morning the work was continued. we had had a minimum of . ° in the night, and a violent south-west storm rendered it difficult to read the instruments. the hundred-and-fourth point was fixed at length at the edge of the water of langak-tso. i have no space here to analyse the results. the channel runs west-north-west, and the line measured is , yards long, or twice as long as represented on the most recent maps. the surface of langak-tso lay feet below that of tso-mavang, which agrees very well with the difference of height on ryder's map, namely feet. there is no water beyond the ninety-fourth fixed point in the bed, the tibetans related a legend concerning the origin of the channel. two large fishes in tso-mavang were deadly enemies and chased each other. one was beaten, and in order to escape he darted right through the isthmus, and the windings of the channel bed show the course of the flying fish. the morning of august was dull, damp, and cold. heavy clouds floated over the earth, heralds of the monsoon rains, and langak-tso looked anything but inviting for a sail. but we had the whole day before us, and any moment horsemen might come from parka, take us by the neck and lead us back, whether we liked it or not, to the path of duty. langak-tso has a very irregular outline. its chief basin in the south is begirt by rocks, in the north there is a smaller expansion, and between the two runs a contracted channel. all we could venture to do was to row over the small basin westwards and then to the south-east, to a place on the eastern shore whither our camp could be moved. it could be done in a few hours, so we took nothing but the mast and sail. tundup sonam and ishe were my boatmen, and we set out at half-past five o'clock. we were at first in the lee of a promontory, but when we had passed it the whole lake came down upon us with rolling, foaming billows, showers of spray, and threatening surge. the waves were crowded together in the narrows to leeward, and assumed curious irregular forms. among them tossed masses of water-weed; the water was bright green and as clear and sweet as that of tso-mavang. we are a little beyond the promontory; would it not be better to turn back? no; never turn back, never give in; still forwards! we were wet, but we kept our equilibrium and parried the cunning assaults of the rolling waves. "row hard and we shall soon get into the shelter of the great point on the western shore." i even managed to take soundings, and found that the greatest depth was ½ feet; the lake bottom was almost level. we had fought with the waves for four hours before we landed on the north side of the promontory, where we were sheltered from the wind. here we draw the boat to land and reconnoitre. the cape runs north-eastwards, and is covered with driftsand which is in constant motion. on the shore plain to the south-west yellow sandspouts move about, whirling like corkscrews in the direction of the wind, and our promontory receives its share of this load of sand. on the north the dune is very steep; from time to time fresh sand falls down the slope and slips into the lake, where the waves sweep it away. from the sharp ridge of the dune the driftsand is blown like a dense plume to the lake, and the water is tinged with yellow for quite yards in the direction of the wind by myriads of grains of sand, which fall to the bottom and build up a foundation under water on which the promontory can extend out into the lake. the wind has been strong, and now we have a storm. patience! we cannot go back. the driftsand now floats so thickly over the lake that the eastern and northern shores are invisible; we might be sitting on a dune in the heart of the takla-makan desert. we slipped down to the sheltered side of the dune, but here, out of the wind, it was still worse. we were enveloped in clouds of sand which penetrated everywhere, into our eyes, ears, and noses, and irritated the skin where it came into contact with the body. the moaning howl of the storm was heard above and around us. my oarsmen slept or strolled about, but their footprints were at once obliterated by the wind. i played with the sand like a child--let it roll down the lee-side, built a small peninsula, which was immediately destroyed by the waves, and a harbour mole, which the sea beat over and broke up--and watched how new layers and clumps of dead seaweed appeared on the sand slope, and how the dry sand formed falls and cascades as it rolled down. but the storm did not abate. [illustration: . kailas behind nyandi-gompa.] [illustration: . my pack-sheep.] we lay waiting there for four hours. on the eastern shore our men had moved the camp a little farther south. we saw the tents quite plainly. should we venture to creep along the shore southwards so as to reach a point opposite the camp? out beyond the promontory the dark-green lake ran uncomfortably high, but we were a match for the waves--the men had only to put their weight on to the oars. so we crept along the shore, where we got some shelter, but we had to be careful that we were not carried out into the heavy seas. after rowing round two points we landed on the lee-side of a third, where the boat was drawn ashore again. heavy seas with thundering, towering waves dashed against the southern side of the point, so that we could go no farther, for no pilot would encounter such billows in a canvas boat. i stood on the top of the promontory and enjoyed the fine spectacle. robert's tent shone brightly in the setting sun. we saw the men, the horses grazing on the bank, and the smoke of the camp-fire beaten down by the storm. the crossing would barely take an hour, but between us and them yawned the dark-green abyss of tyrannical, all-conquering waves. the sun sets and we still sit and wait, confused by the rush of the spirits of the air and water. this time they have played us a pretty trick, and we have been caught. to the north rises kang-rinpoche, lofty and bright as a royal crown. its summit is like a _chhorten_ on the grave of a grand lama. snow and ice with vertical and slightly inclined fissures and ledges form a network like the white web of a gigantic spider on the black cliffs. and the day, a long day of waiting, neared its inevitable close. shadows lengthened out over the foaming waves, the sun set, and the pundi mountain, our old friend of tso-mavang, glowed like fire in the sunset. clouds of a deep blood-red colour, with edges of orange, and tinted above with reddest gold, hovered over its summit. it was as though the earth had opened and volcanic forces had burst forth. the hours passed by, the glow died out, the outlines of pundi became indistinct and were at length swallowed up in the darkness. we were in the dark while the camp-fire blazed on the eastern shore. our hopes were now centred on the night and the moon. the storm had raged thrice twenty-four hours, and it must end some time; but it was just as strong. and as it was useless to wait, and i could not appease my gnawing hunger with a piece of bread and a cup of tea, i wrapped myself in the sail, burrowed into the sand, and fell into a sound sleep. the rain pelting down on the sail woke me twice, and about four o'clock in the morning the cold thoroughly roused me. a dreary, grey, rainy outlook. but ishe proposed that we should try to get over, for the storm had slightly abated in consequence of the rain. we first made sure that the tackle was in good order, and then stepped into the boat and rowed out along the sheltered side of the promontory. but scarcely had the nose of the boat passed beyond the point when it received a shock that made all its joints crack. "row, row as hard as you can," i yelled through the howling storm; "we shall get over before the boat is full. it is better to be wet than suck our thumbs for twenty-four hours more." to the south, ° e., the tent canvas shone white in the morning grey. we strayed far out of our course, but cut the waves cleanly, and steered towards the surf. we just managed to get over. we were received on the other side by our men, who helped us to draw the boat ashore and had fire and breakfast ready for us. namgyal had returned from parka and brought news that the gova threatened to drive away my men in order to force me to leave langak-tso. bluff, however, has no effect on me. a more serious matter was that puppy had not been seen for forty-eight hours, and that shukkur ali, who had gone the morning before to chiu-gompa in search of her, had not been heard of since. puppy at length found her way into camp herself, and then it was shukkur ali who was missing. on the th the storm continued. we afterwards heard from tibetans that stormy weather frequently prevails on langak-tso, and the lake is agitated, when tso-mavang is smooth and calm. tundup sonam concluded that tso-mavang was a pet of the gods, while demons and devils ruled over langak-tso. we had heard a tale in gossul-gompa that the preceding winter five tibetans, armed with swords and guns, had crossed the ice to reach parka by a shorter way, but in the middle of the lake the ice had given way, and all five were dragged down by the weight of their weapons to the bottom. i wished for fine weather that i might be able to cross over the lake to the islands. as, however, we were obliged to give up all thoughts of a voyage, i determined to pass round the lake and at any rate draw an outline map of it. we commenced, then, with the eastern shore, which makes a regular curve towards the east. the white mule from poonch carried the boat. some ovis ammons were seen on the rocks, which tundup sonam stalked unsuccessfully. shukkur ali turned up again as cool as a cucumber, having searched in vain for puppy, which was snoring in my tent in most excellent condition. august . we go to sleep amidst the roaring of the waves and the howling of the storm, and awake again to the same uproar. it is always in our ears as we ride along the shore. we might be at the foot of a waterfall. now we follow the south shore westwards. here the cliffs are almost everywhere precipitous, and the rocks are porphyry, granite, and schist; the shore strip is extremely narrow and steep, and is divided into sharply marked terraces. it descends right down to great depths, and shallow, gradually sloping places are not to be found. a human skull lay in a bay bobbing up and down in the waves, and not far off were other parts of a skeleton. was it one of the men who had been drowned in the winter? at this discovery my men conceived a still greater aversion to langak-tso, which even took human life. i perceived that they were wondering what further foolhardiness i might indulge in. a sharp-pointed peninsula running north-westwards delayed us. on the bay beyond a caravan was camping, and we were glad to meet tibetans again when all others had withdrawn from us; and they were glad to meet a european who had been at the luma-ring-tso, their home. but they could not understand why we passed round all projections and went right round all the bays, instead of following the direct road running a little farther to the south. one of them held out his hands towards me with the fingers spread out, and said that the south shore of the lake had as many indentations. when i told him that i wished to draw a map of the lake, he said that it was of no consequence what the shore was like, as only egg-gatherers came there. when we had passed two projecting points we encamped at the extremity of the cape which lies in a line with the southernmost island. it was stormy, but here we found shelter under a cliff with a streamer pole on the top. stone walls, rags, and eggshells were evidence of the visits of men. on the east and west of the cape were open bays with heavy seas, and to the north, ° e., we saw the southern point of the island--a dark precipitous rock, rising like a huge roll of bread from the waves. we had already heard of this island, lache-to, on which the wild-geese lay their eggs in may, and are robbed of them by men from parka who come over the ice. i could not therefore omit to visit it. the island lay quite near. we would return immediately, and adul might begin to roast the wild-goose which tundup had shot on the march. we wanted no provisions, but robert advised ishe to take a bag of _tsamba_ with him, lest he should have to wait too long for his dinner. [illustration: . part of kailas. sketch by the author.] these two men took the oars when we put off. the shelter of the cape was deceptive. two minutes from the bank i tried to take a sounding, but the line made a great curve before it reached the bottom, for the storm drove the boat northwards. then we fell upon another device: the boatmen had only to hold their oars in the air and let the wind carry the boat along. but a little farther out we could not sail so easily, for the wave system of the eastern open part of the lake came into collision with that from the west. here the waves rose into hillocks and pyramids, and had to be negotiated with the oars. we rapidly drew near to the island, and its rocks became higher and looked threateningly dark and dangerous. when we were close to the southern point i perceived that it was impossible to land there. the bank of rubbish and blocks was very steep, and we and the boat would have been dashed in pieces in the foaming breakers. the situation was critical. robert wished to land on the lee-side of the northern point, but that would have been risky, for the storm swept unchecked along the sides of the island, and if we did not get under the land at the right moment we should be driven out into the open lake at a distance of two days' voyage from the northern shore. we rocked up and down on soft green crystal. i steered close to the eastern bank, where the waves were just as high. here we had no choice. i turned the bow towards the land, and the men rowed for all they were worth. a nasty billow threw us ashore. robert jumped out, slipped, and got a ducking. ishe hurried up to help him. three billows broke over me before i got to land. we were all three drenched, but we were glad to have firm ground under our feet, and to have reached the island safely in spite of the treacherous storm which might have driven us past this open roadstead. then robert and i went round the island while ishe collected fuel. though we could only walk slowly over the detritus, we took but twenty-five minutes to go round the island and ascertain its form by compass bearings. it is longish, runs from north to south, and consists of a single rock falling on all sides steeply to the water. during our walk the wind dried us. then i drew a panorama of gurla mandatta, and after that the spot of earth to which fate had led us prisoners was subjected to a closer investigation. at the north-eastern foot of the elevation is a rather flat pebbly plateau. here the wild-geese breed in spring, and here lay still several thousand eggs, in twos, threes, or fours, in a nest of stones and sand. that was a discovery. ishe had a bag of _tsamba_, but that was all. there was every probability that we should have to stay the night here, and now we had a quite unexpected store of provisions to last for months. and some time this persistent wind must cease. we played at robinson crusoe, and found our situation very advantageous. but the egg-collecting was the most interesting. the eggs were pretty and appetizing as they lay half embedded in the sand, and i pictured to myself the happy cackling that must go on in the spring when the goose mothers sit with expectant hearts on the hard nests, and the sun floods gurla mandatta with a sea of light. we broke two. they were rotten. we tried others which lay in the shade and deeper in the sand. they gave out a horrible stench when the shell broke with a crack on a stone. but of about eggs we broke, we found eight which were edible, and we did not want more. we helped ishe to collect dry plants lying on the slopes, and at sunset we had a huge heap which we had piled within a small ring fence. in the middle the fire was lighted, and we sat leaning against the wall which sheltered us from the wind. we were warm and comfortable, and our satisfaction reached its height when ishe's store of _tsamba_ was divided into three equal portions, and was eaten out of a wooden bowl with the hand in place of a spoon. the greatest inconvenience was that we had no other vessel but ishe's small wooden bowl, and therefore whenever one of us wanted a drink he had to tramp down to the shore. the storm still howled over the rock and through the holes and crannies of the wall. then the thought shot through my mind: "is the boat moored securely? if it should be carried away! then we are lost. ah, but it may be cast ashore on the northern bank, and our men may fetch it and come across to the island. no, it will be filled with water, and be sunk by the weight of the zinc plates of the centre-boards. but then we can mount in the morning to the southern point and make our people understand by signs that we want provisions. we have drifted to the island in eighteen minutes. they can make a raft with the tent poles and stays, load it with provisions, and let it drift with the wind to the island. and we may find more fresh eggs." such were the thoughts that robert and i exchanged while ishe was feeling about in total darkness at the landing-place. "what if we have to stay here till the lake freezes over, four months hence?" i said. but at this moment we heard ishe's steps in the sand, and he calmed us with the assurance that both the boat and the oars were safe. then we talked together again and kept up the fire. the storm had abated, but sudden gusts came down from all quarters. we inspected the water, and found that we could make for the mainland without danger. but first we took all the remaining fuel and piled it up into a blazing bonfire, which shone like a huge beacon over the lake. if any tibetan saw it, he must have thought that an enchanted fire was burning on the desolate island. the moon was high when we put off and the lake was still rough. but soon the black cape where our camp stood was seen on the southern shore against the dim background of mountains. in the middle of the sound the depth was feet. we shouted with all our might, and were soon answered by a fire on the point, to which our people had come down. and the roasted wild-goose, which had waited so long for us, and a cup of hot tea tasted delicious in the early hours of morn. and still more delightful was it to creep into bed after our short visit to the goose island, which raised its dark, mysterious, dolphin-like ridge in the moonlight. never again would my foot tread its peaceful strand. chapter l the source of the sutlej we had scarcely dressed in the morning before the storm raged again. galsan and a gova from parka overtook us here. the former brought provisions, the latter had strict orders from his chief, parka tasam, to tell me that if i did not at once betake myself to parka, he would send off all my baggage to langak-tso, and force me to move on to purang. but the gova himself was a jovial old fellow, and he received my answer that if parka tasam ventured to meddle with my boxes, he should be immediately deposed. if he kept quiet a couple of days, i would come to parka, and the rather that i found it impossible to navigate the lake at this season of the year. then we marched on westwards, in and out of the bays and round all the projections produced by a mountain elevation north of gurla, which prolongs its ramifications to the lake. the constantly changing views, as we wind in and out and wander between land and water, are indescribably beautiful and charming. the two large islands lying far out in the lake we see wherever we may be. one is named dopserma; other water-birds breed there, but no geese. in winter yaks and sheep are driven over the ice to the island, where there is good pasturage. when cattle disease rages in the country the animals on dopserma do not suffer. we passed round the sharp-pointed westernmost bay in a furious storm and blinding clouds of sand, and encamped on the shore again. the same agreeable weather continued also on the last day of august as we travelled north-eastwards and saw the langak-tso in a new and beautiful aspect. the air was now clear, kang-rinpoche and gurla mandatta were unclouded, and stood as sentinels above the lakes. we passed the point where tundup sonam, ishe, and i had waited so long, and by the sand-dune where we had lain four hours. at the north-western bay we cross the old bed of the sutlej, consisting of treacherous, quaking bog or dry, hard clay; it is broad, has no terraces, and has been much degraded and smoothed down by deflation and driftsand in later times. two springs rise up in the middle, and flow in the direction of the lake. westwards the bed seems quite level, but actually it rises slowly and evenly to a flat culmination, on the other side of which it dips down towards the indus. now it had become dark, and we rode hour after hour among low hills and dunes and over meadows and water channels. i thought we had lost our way, when the bells of grazing cattle were heard, a fire appeared, and rabsang came to meet us with a lantern in order to lead us to the village parka, where my tent was set up in a courtyard. during the much-needed day of rest we allowed ourselves in parka, i negotiated now and then with the govas of the neighbourhood. they asked me to set off definitely for the west next day, and i promised to do so, but on the condition that i might stay three days in khaleb, half a day's journey to the west. they consented without inquiring into my further intentions. i wished, be it known, to pass round the holy mountain by the pilgrim road, but saw that the authorities would never grant their permission. it could be done only by stratagem. here i received a second very kind letter from mr. cassels, who happened to be in gyanima on official business. unfortunately the force of circumstances prevented us meeting. he gave me a pleasant surprise with three packets of tea, which were the more welcome as i had latterly had to put up with brick-tea. here also the truth of the report that had so long followed us, that six chinese and tibetan officials from lhasa had been sent to bring me to reason, was at length made clear. the report was certainly true, but when the gentlemen on reaching saka-dzong heard that i had marched on westwards some time before, they simply turned back again. i obtained all kinds of information about the two lakes and their periodical outlets, from tibetans who had long lived in the country. four years before some water had flowed from tso-mavang to langak-tso, which confirms ryder's statement. twelve years ago the outflow had been so abundant that the channel could not be passed except by the bridge. the channel is sometimes called ngangga, sometimes ganga. the water of langak-tso is said to drain off underground, and to appear again at a place in the old bed called langchen-kamba, and this water is said to be the true source of the sutlej, and to find its way to the large streams which form this river, called in tibetan langchen-kamba. twelve years and forty-eight years ago the spring in the old bed is said to have emitted much more water than now. sherring collected similar data in . langak-tso is said to have been so poisonous in former times that any one who drank of its water died, but since the holy fish broke through the isthmus and passed into the lake, the water has been sweet. langak-tso freezes in the beginning of december, half a month sooner than its eastern neighbour, and the freezing proceeds slowly and in patches, whereas tso-mavang freezes over in an hour. langak-tso also breaks up half a month before tso-mavang. both have ice feet thick. in winter the surface of tso-mavang falls inches beneath the ice, which consequently is cracked and fissured, and dips from the shore; but langak-tso sinks only one or two thirds of an inch. this shows that it receives water constantly from the eastern lake, but only parts with a trifling quantity in winter. with regard to the goose island, i was told that three men are commissioned by the devashung to settle on the island as soon as the wild-geese arrive, to protect them from wolves and foxes. they receive rupees, a sheep, and a lump of butter as wages. at this time, in may, the ice is still two feet thick, but the egg-gatherers must take care that they are not cut off from the mainland by a storm. some years ago it happened that two watchmen were isolated on the island in this way. they lived there eight months, subsisting on eggs and green food, and returned over the ice next winter as soon as the lake was frozen over. but one of them was so enfeebled that he died on reaching parka. after a lively feast held by the ladakis in the evening, we rode on september north-westwards, accompanied by an old grey-headed gova, who had become a particular friend of mine. the weather was fine, but we now felt biting cold in the morning, much as at home on the islets off the coast when the yellow leaves have fallen and a thin sheet of ice has spread over the inlets. all parka was on foot to witness our departure. with us set out a high lama whom i had known in leh. his retinue looked well in their yellow dresses against the grey and green ground. he had been in shigatse, and had lately made the circuit of the holy mountain. during the march we waded through the rivers dam-chu, sung-chu, la-chu, and khaleb, which together carried about cubic feet of water per second to langak-tso. the nearer we came to the holy mountain, the less imposing it appeared; it was finest from langak-tso. in form it resembles a tetrahedron set on a prism. from the middle of its white top a belt of ice falls precipitously down, and below it stands a stalagmite of ice, on to which a thick stream of water pours from above. the stream splits up into glittering drops of spray and thin sheets of water--a grand spectacle, which one could watch with pleasure for hours. our camp on the khaleb moor had the advantage of being far from the haunts of men--a very necessary condition, for here i contrived to make three excursions without permission. the second of these took a whole day, september , and its aim was the old bed of the sutlej. where we reached it, the bed seemed to contain stagnant water both to the east and west, and the ground was quite level. at the place which seemed highest, we tested it with the boiling-point thermometer and found that it stood about feet above the lake. following the bed westwards we come first to a large pool of sweet water with large quantities of ducks and water-weeds, then to a series of freshwater swamps connected by channels, and at length to a brook, which flows slowly south-westwards. the brook pours into a large freshwater pool, no. , which has no visible outlet. but when we proceed farther west to the point where the bed is contracted between walls of solid rock, we come upon two springs forming a new brook, which flows through a clearly marked valley to the south-west. i am convinced that this water filtrates underground from langak-tso. a year later i followed the old bed a day's march farther west, and found at dölchu-gompa permanent springs of abundant water, which likewise well up on the bottom of the bed. from here and all along its course through the himalayas the tibetans call the sutlej langchen-kamba, the elephant river; the hill on which the convent dölchu-gompa is built is supposed to bear some resemblance to an elephant, and hence the name. the spring at dölchu is called langchen-kabab, or the mouth out of which the elephant river comes, just as the brahmaputra source is the tamchok-kabab, or the mouth out of which the horse river comes, and the indus source is the singi-kabab, or the mouth from which the lion river comes. the fourth in the series is the mapchu-kamba, the peacock river or karnali. the tibetans assert that the source of the sutlej is at the monastery dölchu, not in the himalayas or the trans-himalaya, from which, however, it receives very voluminous tributaries. they are also convinced that the source water of the langchen-kamba originates from langak-tso. and i would draw particular attention to the fact that the first of the two holy springs which pour their water into the tage-tsangpo is also called langchen-kamba (see p. ), a proof that in old times the source was supposed to lie to the east of tso-mavang. [illustration: . kailas from diri-pu.] [illustration: . confluence of the two arms of the indus. sketches by the author.] now i advise any one who takes no interest in the source of the sutlej to skip the following quotation. during my stay in kioto in december , mr. ogawa, professor of geography in the university there, showed me a collection of chinese books. one of them, _shui-tao-ti-kang_, or _the elements of hydrography_, is a compilation of the author chi chao nan in the th year of the emperor kien lung, that is, the year , and in this work, book , is the following communication concerning the source of the sutlej, which professor ogawa was kind enough to translate for me literally:[ ] the kang-ka-kiang comes out from kang-ti-ssu-shan, on the south-east of which there stands lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu-shan ( = langchen-kabab), magnificent like an elephant. the relief is gradually accentuated more and more towards the south-western frontiers, and culminates at kang-ti-ssu-shan ( = kailas). the mountain has a circumference of more than li. on all sides the mountain forms precipitous walls more than feet high above the surrounding mountains, and accumulated snow seems as if hung on cliffs. hundreds of springs pour down from the top, but flow under the ground on the foot of the mountain. it is situated in the extreme west of the tsang region, li north-east of ta-ko-la-cheng in a-li, more than li south-west of si-ning-fu in shensi province. its longitude is ° ' w., and its latitude ° ' n. in olden times the place was unknown, but can be doubtfully identified with a-nok-ta-shan in the annotation of shui-ching. in the neighbourhood there are four high mountains, of which the southern is called lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu-shan, lying li south-by-east of kang-ti-ssu-shan, and li east of ta-kola-cheng. the natives call it so, because the form of the mountain resembles an elephant. on the east of this mountain there stands ta-mu-chu-ko-ka-pa-pu-shan (= tamchok-kabab), which is the source of the ya-lu-tsang-pu river (= yere-tsangpo or brahmaputra). springs come out from the northern foot of the mountain, and accumulate into a lake ( ° ' w., and ° ' n.). the water flows north-westwards for li, and receives a stream coming from the north-east. the stream lies in the mountains li north-east of lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu. two streams flow westwards from the mountain and turn north-westwards after their junction. it now takes a sinuous course for li, turns south-westwards, and joins the main river. this is a source. the river flows further to the west-by-north for li, then to the north-east, to be met by the water of lake kung-sheng (= gunchu-tso), which sinks under the ground of the lake basin, but which, after reappearing, and after receiving three northern affluents, runs south-westwards to the river. the lake of kung-sheng-o-mo has two sources--one coming from the north-east, from ta-ko-la-kung-ma-shan, and flowing - li; the other from the east, from the western foot of ma-erh-yo-mu-ling ( = marium-la) in the western frontiers of cho-shu-tê. this last-mentioned mountain forms the eastern boundary of a-li, and is the chief range going south-eastwards from kang-ti-ssu. the water (of the lake kung-sheng) flows westwards for more than li, and forms another lake, li wide, and without an outlet. however, more than li farther to the west there is a third lake with a subterranean source and with a length of li. a stream comes from the north to the lake. the river now flows south-westwards for li, and receives a stream coming from the north-east. li farther south-westwards it receives a stream coming from the northern mountains; farther south-westwards the river meets the water from lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu-shan. the water forms the lake ma-piu-mu-ta-lai ( = tso-mavang). from south to north it is li long, from east to west or li wide, and has a circumference of more than li. on the northern side of the lake there are two streams coming from the north. the lake is situated li to the south of kang-ti-ssu. the water flows out from the west of the lake into the lake lang-ka (= lan-gak-tso) at a distance of li. the latter lake receives a stream coming from the north-east. lake lang-ka has a narrow rectangular shape, pointed and elongated, the length from south to north being li, and the width from east to west li. its northern pointed corner has the stream coming from north-east. there are three sources on the southern foot at a distance of li from a southern branch of kang-ti-ssu; they flow southwards, unite into one stream, which takes a south-westerly course for - li before entering the lake. the lake is the same in circumference and area, but different in outline. the water (of lake lang-ka) flows out from the west, and after running westwards for more than li it turns to the south-west, and is now called the lang-chu-ho, and takes a sinuous course for more than li. then it receives the chu-ka-la-ho coming from the north-east. this description of the position of the source of the sutlej is of such extraordinary interest that i do not like to reserve it for my scientific work, and the less so that it supports the theory i expressed when in india, that the tage-tsangpo is nothing but the uppermost section of the course of the sutlej, or, in other words, that the source of the tage-tsangpo is also that of the sutlej. many quotations have been looked up during the discussion that has arisen on this problem, but they cannot compare in importance with the one just cited, which, moreover, is sixty years older than the oldest of the others, namely, gerard's opinion that the gunchu-tso is the source of the sutlej. the description in chi chao nan's _hydrography_ is distinguished by the same careful conformity with the truth and conscientiousness as all other chinese geographical descriptions. compare the description of kailas (kang-rinpoche) with what i have already said about it. lang-chuan-ka-pa-pu is the chinese translation of the tibetan langchen-kabab, which literally means the "source of the sutlej." when the chinese author informs us that east of langchen-kabab lies tamchok-kabab, which is the source of the river yere-tsangpo (brahmaputra), we must admit that his description is quite in accordance with the truth, as i, the first european to visit this country, have myself discovered; for on the tamlung-la i stood on the pass which parts the water between the brahmaputra and sutlej, and immediately to the south of the pass i saw gang-lung-gangri and the glacier from which the tage-tsangpo takes its rise, and in which the source of the sutlej lies. it is further said that the lake gunchu-tso has two source streams--one from the north-east, from the mountain ta-ko-la-kung-ma, which is evidently identical with d'anville's tacra-concla; the other from the west side of the pass marium-la: an account which agrees with ryder's map in all particulars. at present the gunchu-tso is completely cut off and is salt; it therefore is no longer connected with the sutlej system. but years ago it had an outlet which ran partly underground, and then, rising up again, joined the langchen-kamba or tage-tsangpo. and that the tage-tsangpo was at one time considered by the tibetans to be the headwater of the sutlej is apparent from the fact that its name, langchen-kamba, is still applied to the upper of the two sacred source streams in the valley of the tage-tsangpo. and, again, it is said: this water, that is, the water of the langchen-kabab, or the headwater of the sutlej, forms the lake ma-piu-mu-ta-lai, the tso-mavang or tso-mavam, as the name is also pronounced; on d'anville's map (map ) it is written ma-pama talai, and d'anville explains that talai signifies lake. he might have added that it is the same word as in dalai lama, the priest, whose wisdom is as unfathomable as the ocean; for the chinese word talai or dalai means ocean. by the use of this word the chinese author wished to imply that tso-mavang is much larger than the other lakes mentioned in his text. the surplus water, as there is every reason to assume, flowed in the year from tso-mavang through the channel to langak-tso. the length of the channel was li, which corresponds to my ½ miles. all the northern tributaries which flow into the two lakes from the valleys of the trans-himalaya are correctly noted. the lake langak is called lang-ka. on d'anville's map, the material for which was supplied by the jesuits who lived in pekin in the time of the emperor kang hi (at the beginning of the eighteenth century), the lake is named lanken. on the same map the river flowing thence westwards is called lanc-tchou (sutlej), but it is suggested, absurdly enough, that it is the upper course of the ganges. d'anville names the mountains south of tso-mavang lantchia-kepou, which is langchen-kabab, and the mountains lying to the south-east of them tam-tchou, that is, tamchok, in which he quite correctly places the origin of the yarou tsanpou, the brahmaputra. the material for the map of the whole chinese empire, which the jesuits presented to the emperor kang hi in the year , was collected between the years and , and the emperor procured information about tibet through natives, who were prepared for their work by the jesuits, just as in later times english topographers have trained indian pundits. from d'anville's map we learn that years ago the sutlej flowed out of langak-tso through the bed i have already described. professor ogawa's translation of the chinese text shows us that even in the year , or perhaps some years before, the river still emerged from the langak-tso. and it is expressly said that the river chu-ka-la-ho (chu-kar, which, however, is said to descend from the north-east instead of the south-east) is only a tributary. in the year henry strachey found no visible outlet, but he says that there is one underground, and considers it probable that the channel also may carry water when the lake has risen after heavy rains. on july , , i heard from the chief lama of the monastery dölchu-gompa, who was born in the neighbourhood and was then fifty-five years old, that when he was quite young, water occasionally flowed out of the lake. but when he was ten years old, that would be in the year , this water had failed, and since then no more had been seen. on the other hand, the springs in the bed are constant both in winter and in summer, and are independent of the precipitation. the monks believe that the water comes from langak-tso, but nevertheless they call it the langchen-kabab, the river which flows out of the mouth of the elephant. my investigations on the spot, as well as the chinese quotation, prove that colonel s. g. burrard is quite right in his masterly description of the rivers of the himalayas and tibet (calcutta, ), when he includes tso-mavang and langak-tso and all their affluents in the drainage basin of the sutlej, and therefore i will here cite two sentences of colonel burrard: the connection between the two lakes may be taken as established, but that between the western lake and the sutlej basin is still open to question. if the water from rakas-tal flows into the sutlej once a century, and then only for such a short period as to be observed by no one, we shall still be justified in including the lakes in the catchment area of the river. and in this connection i would point out that the water-level of tibetan rivers and lakes is subject to periodical fluctuations, dependent on the precipitation, of the same kind as the brückner periods. the level in the two lakes varies from year to year. at the present time they are very low, but there is nothing to prevent them rising gradually in a more or less distant future. tso-mavang may rise so that its water may again flow through the channel to langak-tso, and this lake at length may discharge its surplus water, as formerly, through the dry bed of the sutlej. it is more probable, however, that langak-tso is approaching a time when it will lose its subterranean outlet also, and be quite isolated, like gunchu-tso and panggong-tso, and consequently become salt in time. but after it has lost its outlet it may be a long time, as professor brückner informs me, before the lake becomes noticeably salt. the next step in the development will be that tso-mavang will be cut off from langak-tso and likewise become salt. however, we need not plunge into speculations and prognostications of the future, which may have surprises in store about which we can form only more or less probable conjectures. it is our duty to rely solely on fact and observation. and now that we are agreed that the two lakes belong to the drainage area of the sutlej, the question is: which of the rivers debouching into tso-mavang is the headwater of the sutlej? naturally, the longest and the one which carries most water. the river which once flowed out of gunchu-tso has no claim to this honour, and the gunchu-tso must be rejected as the source of the sutlej. the tage-tsangpo discharged cubic feet of water per second, while all the other streams entering tso-mavang carried at most cubic feet each. the source of the tage-tsangpo in the front of the gang-lung glacier is therefore the source of the sutlej. [illustration: . tibetan female pilgrims at kailas.] footnote: [ ] i have only omitted a couple of sentences, which have no immediate connection with the problem. chapter li a pilgrimage round kang-rinpoche we are again on the khaleb moor and the day is september , on which we are to begin the circuit of the holy mountain. the head gova of parka is with us to hold me in check, but i take very good care not to betray my plans. tsering, rabsang, namgyal, and ishe are to go with me; they are lamaists, and are glad of the opportunity to come nearer the gates of salvation by wandering round the holy mountain. we take provisions for three days, the absolutely necessary instruments, sketch- and note-books. the stand of the large camera and one of the boat's tarpaulins are to serve as a tent. the whole baggage is only a light load for a horse. i ride my small grey ladaki and the four men march on foot, for no one may ride round the holy mountain unless he is a heathen, like myself. the rest of the caravan is to wait for us in khaleb, and my tent is to be left untouched that the tibetans may think that i am expected back in the evening. tsering, namgyal, and ishe start early, and rabsang and i a little later. the gova and his men come to ask what it all means and whither i am going, but i answer only, "i shall soon be back again," and ride off to the north, ° e., to the mouth of the dunglung valley. the others wait for us among the first moraines, and then we proceed in close column up and down among old moraines which have been thrust down by vanished glaciers. a party of pilgrims from kham in the distant east are resting on the bank of the dunglung river. they have pitched their tents, and their horses are grazing on the fresh grass. from the top of the moraine is seen the northern part of our stormy langak-tso. we ride up the valley and soon have on both sides solid rock of hard green and violet conglomerate, with huge cones of detritus at the foot of the slopes. enormous boulders of conglomerate have fallen down here. on the left bank of the river, where the road comes up from tarchen, stand a small cubical house and several _manis_ and _chhortens_ in long rows: it is a sacred road, the road of pilgrims round kang-rinpoche. the cliffs assume ever wilder forms, falling perpendicularly to terraces and pebble screes, forming steps and ledges, fortifications, battlements and towers, as though built by human hands. they consist of sandstone and conglomerate, and the strata dip ° to the south, and to the eye appear horizontal. a small bridge spans the river. a party of pilgrims behind us is just crossing it. but we are on the right bank, and above us nyandi-gompa is perched on its terrace. above it rises the vertical wall of a huge mountain mass, a dangerous background for the monastery. up on a ledge dwells a hermit, and quite at the top stands a streamer pole named nyandi-kong. five years ago a huge block fell down upon the monastery and laid half of it in ruins. the block still lies in the inner court. it was early in the morning after long-continuous rain; no one was hurt, but the monastery had to be rebuilt. two monks, two old women, and a boy received us kindly, and said it was the first time they had seen a european in nyandi. the monastery, as well as the three others on kailas, is under tarchen-labrang, which is situated on the southern foot of the mountain, where the pilgrims begin and end their circuit. curiously enough, these monasteries belong to tongsa penlop, the raja of bhotan. the preceding year, , was a year of the fire horse, and the year will be a year of the earth horse; every twelfth year is a horse year, in which wood, fire, earth, iron or water is prefixed to the name horse; the tibetan cycle (the period of time which is the base of the reckoning) extends over sixty years with the names of twelve different animals. every horse year, and accordingly every twelfth year, crowds of pilgrims come to kailas. the monks said that they cannot be counted, but they knew that in the year more than pilgrims had been at nyandi, of whom the greater part came from ladak. the _lhakang_, or hall of the gods, is very original. four pillars support the roof. the altar, like a chinese kiosque of wood painted in colours, stands alone and in deep shadow, but so many votive lights are placed in front that they seem like a festival illumination. an especial lamp hangs before the image of sakya-muni, which stands against a wall. in front of the altar is a huge copper vessel with a cover, which is called tosungjön. it is said to have flown in old times from india through the air. in winter it is filled with butter, in summer with _chang_. a lama with a brass ladle poured the consecrated beverage into the bowls of my men, and out of the silver bowls with peacocks' feathers he poured holy water into the hollow of their hands; they drank of it and besmeared their faces with the rest. all, except rabsang, paid due reverence to the statues and prayed, and tsering had murmured his prayers all the way along and let the beads of his rosary slip through his fingers. two fine elephant's tusks (_langchen-sala-rapten_) were set up before the altar. in the tsenkang hall is a figure of hlabsen clothed in gold brocade and _kadakhs_, the god of kang-rinpoche and tso-mavang. in the ante-chamber is a whole arsenal of guns and swords and wooden and leathern shields, each with four iron bosses. on the outside of the monastery, which fronts the holy mountain, rows of artistically sculptured slabs are affixed. on six of them each of the holy characters is incised, and each of the gigantic characters is again filled in with the invariable alpha and omega of lamaism, "om mani padme hum." on other flagstones gods are carved with wonderful dexterity, and one feels a vain desire to buy one or two of them. the view from the roof is indescribably beautiful. the icy summit of kang-rinpoche rises amid fantastic fissured precipitous rocks, and in the foreground are the picturesque superstructure of the monastery and its streamers (illust. ). but time flies. after spending three hours in nyandi, we say farewell to the monks, descend the steep path zigzagging among rubbish and boulders, and continue our journey to the north-north-east along the right bank of the river. at every turn i could stand still in astonishment, for this valley is one of the grandest and most beautiful in its wildness that i have ever seen. the precipice on the right side of the valley is divided into two stages with a terrace between them, and in the midst gapes a dark ravine. on the left side the rock forms a single vertical wall, and here the eyes fall on a succession of singular forms of relief, rocks like congealed cascades, citadels, church towers, and embattled fortifications, separated by cañon-like hollows. water from melting snowfields pours down the steep slopes. one such jet of water is quite feet high and white as milk; the wind turns it into spray, but it collects again, only to be split up against a projection. the rock around it is wet and dark with spurted drops. a natural rock bridge crosses a small cleft with vertical walls. immediately beyond the monastery the summit of kailas is lost to view, but soon a bit of it is seen again through a gap. we passed twelve pilgrims, and soon after a second party resting on a slope. they put on solemn faces and do not talk with one another, but murmur prayers, walking with their bodies bent, and leaning on a staff--frequently, too, without a staff. how they have longed to come here! and now they are here and walk round the mountain, which is always on their right. they feel no weariness, for they know that every step improves their prospects in the world beyond the river of death. and when they have returned to their black tents in distant valleys, they tell their friends of all the wonders they have seen, and of the clouds, which sail like the dragon ships of old below the white summit of gangri. small conical cairns are everywhere. tsering never omits to take up a stone from the margin of the road and lay it as his contribution on every such votive pile, and thereby he does a good deed, for he makes the way less rough for those who come after him. the sun looks out through a gap, and throws a bright yellow light into the valley, which otherwise is in shadow. the icy peak again appears much foreshortened. several tributaries come in from the sides, and towards evening the river rises, containing quite cubic feet of water. a man from gertse has been going round the mountain for twenty successive days, and now has just accomplished his tenth circuit. dunglung-do is a very important valley junction, where three valleys converge--the chamo-lung-chen from the north, ° w., the dunglung from the north, ° w., and the third, called in its upper course hle-lungpa, which we ascend. we now have granite on both sides. kailas turns a sharp edge to the north, and from here the peak resembles a tetrahedron more than ever. again the mountain is concealed by an elevation of the ring which girdles it as monte somma encircles vesuvius. the main river swells up towards evening; the other two are spanned by bridges. numbers of boulders lie all about. all is granite, and therefore the mountain forms are rounder and more lumpy (illust. ). at length we see the monastery diri-pu in front of us, standing on the slope on the right side of the valley. a huge block of granite beside the path up to it bears the usual sacred characters, and there also are long _manis_, streamers, and cairns. all the pilgrims we have overtaken in the course of the day turn into the monastery, where they can pass the night free of charge. the convent is crammed full after the arrival of a party of pilgrims belonging to the pembo sect. these, of course, wander round the mountain in the reverse direction, and the orthodox cast contemptuous glances at them when they meet. i prefer to pitch my tent on the roof, where the luggage of the pilgrims is piled up. here also there is a fine view of kailas, raising its summit due south. with a temperature of ° at nine o'clock it is cold and disagreeable, for a strong wind blows, and my tent, consisting only of the camera-stand covered with a linen cloth, is too small to allow of a fire being lighted (illust. ). since i had been successful in fixing the positions of the sources of the brahmaputra and sutlej, my old dream of discovering the source of the indus was revived, and all my aspirations and ambition were now concentrated on this object. when i now learned from the monks that the point where the famous river issues forth from the "mouth of the lion" was only three days' journey to the north-east beyond a lofty pass, everything else seemed of trifling consequence compared to an advance into the unknown country in the north. we held a council of war; we had provisions only for two days more, and we had not brought enough money with us, and, moreover, the state of affairs in khaleb was too uncertain to allow of greater hazards. i therefore decided to carry out my original plan in the meantime and complete the pilgrimage, and afterwards make the source of the indus the object of a fresh excursion from khaleb, or, if the worst came to the worst, from gartok. [illustration: . the gova by whose help the source of the indus was discovered (seated) and tibetans at kailas.] on september we take leave of the monks of diri-pu, cross by a bridge the river which comes down from the pass tseti-lachen-la in the trans-himalaya, from the other side of which the water flows to the indus, and mount in an easterly direction over rough steep slopes thickly bestrewn with granite boulders. on our right is the river which is fed by the glaciers of kailas; it is quite short, but is very full of water. the path becomes still steeper, winding among immense blocks of granite, and leads up to the first hump, after which the ground is a little more even to the next break. here we have a splendid view of the short truncated glacier which, fed from a sharply defined trough-shaped firn basin, lies on the north side of kailas. its terminal, lateral, and medial moraines are small but distinct. eastwards from kailas runs off an exceedingly sharp, pointed, and jagged ridge, covered on the north side with snow, and belts of pebbles in the snow give all this side a furrowed appearance. from all corners of the ice mantle and the snowfields foaming brooks hurry down to the river. on our left, northwards, the mountains consist of vertical fissured granite in wild pyramidal forms. kailas is protected on the north by immense masses of granite, but the mountain itself is in all probability of conglomerate, as shown by the nearly horizontal bedding plainly perceptible in the projecting ledges, sharply marked snow-lines, and belts of ice. the summit rises above this sea of wild mountains like a mighty crystal of hexagonal form. a party of poor women and children climbed wearily up to the pass. an elderly man, who was now making his ninth circuit, made no objection to join our party; he knew the country and could give information about it. on another rise in the ground, called tutu-dapso, we saw hundreds of votive cairns, feet high--quite a forest of stone pyramids--like innumerable gravestones in a churchyard (illust. ). slowly and laboriously we climbed up this arduous pass, one of the most troublesome on the whole journey. thicker and thicker lay the boulders, exclusively of granite in all possible varieties, some pink and some so light a grey as to be almost white. between two boulders lay a suspicious-looking bundle of clothes. we examined it, and found that it contained the body of a man who had collapsed in making the tour of the mountain of the gods. his features were rigid, and he seemed poor and emaciated. no one knew who he was, and if he had any relations they would never learn that his pilgrimage had launched him into new adventures among the dark mazes of the soul's migrations. our old man stops at a flat granite block of colossal dimensions, and says that this is a _dikpa-karnak_, or a test-stone for sinners. a narrow tunnel runs under the block, and whoever is without sin, or at any rate has a clear conscience, can creep through the passage, but the man who sticks fast in the middle is a scoundrel. i asked the old man whether it might not happen that a thin rogue would wriggle through while a fat, honest fellow might stick fast; but he answered very seriously that stoutness had nothing to do with the result of the trial, which depended only on the state of the soul. evidently our honest ishe was not certain which way the balance of his conscience inclined, for, before we were aware, we saw him disappearing under the block, and heard him puffing, panting, and groaning, scratching with his hands and trying to get a foothold behind. but when he had floundered about inside long and vigorously, he was at last obliged to call for help in a half-strangled voice. we laughed till we could hardly keep on our feet, and let him stay a while in his hole because of his manifest sinfulness. then the two other men dragged him out by the legs, and he looked extremely confused (and dusty) when he at length emerged again into the outer world, an unmasked villain. the old man told us that a woman had become so firmly fixed that she had actually to be dug out. some paces farther in this maze of granite boulders, among which we wandered as in lanes between low houses and walls, stands a test-stone of another kind. it consists of three blocks leaning on one another, with two hollows between them. the task is to creep through the left passage and return by the right, that is, in the orthodox direction. here ishe made up for his previous discomfiture by crawling through both holes. i told him frankly that there was no skill required here, for the holes were so large that even small yaks could go through. however, the sinner had in this second stone an opportunity of preserving at least a show of righteousness. our wanderings round kang-rinpoche, the "holy ice mountain" or the "ice jewel," is one of my most memorable recollections of tibet, and i quite understand how the tibetans can regard as a divine sanctuary this wonderful mountain which has so striking a resemblance to a _chhorten_, the monument which is erected in memory of a deceased saint within or without the temples. how often during our roamings had i heard of this mountain of salvation! and now i myself walked in pilgrim garb along the path between the monasteries, which are set, like precious stones in a bangle, in the track of pilgrims round kang-rinpoche, the finger which points up to the mighty gods throned like stars in unfathomable space. from the highlands of kham in the remotest east, from naktsang and amdo, from the unknown bongba, which we have heard of only in vague reports, from the black tents which stand like the spots of a leopard scattered among the dreary valleys of tibet, from ladak in the mountains of the far west, and from the himalayan lands in the south, thousands of pilgrims come hither annually, to pace slowly and in deep meditation the miles round the navel of the earth, the mountain of salvation. i saw the silent procession, the faithful bands, among which all ages and both sexes are represented, youths and maidens, strong men with wife and child, grey old men who would before their death follow in the footsteps of countless pilgrims to win a happier existence, ragged fellows who lived like parasites on the charity of the other pilgrims, scoundrels who had to do penance for a crime, robbers who had plundered peaceful travellers, chiefs, officials, herdsmen, and nomads, a varied train of shady humanity on the thorny road, which after interminable ages ends in the deep peace of nirvana. august and serene siva looks down from her paradise, and hlabsen from his jewelled palace, on the innumerable human beings below who circle, like asteroids round the sun, in ever fresh troops, round the foot of the mountain, going up through the western valley, crossing the dolma pass, and descending the eastern valley. we soon discover that most of these simple pilgrims have no clear idea of the benefits their journey is supposed to confer on them. when they are questioned, they usually answer that after death they will be allowed to sit near the god of gangri. but what they all believe most firmly and obstinately is that the pilgrimage will bring them a blessing in this world. it will ward off all evil from their tents and huts, will keep away sickness from their children and herds, protect them from robbers, thieves, and losses, will send them rain, good pasturage, and increase among their yaks and sheep, will act like a talisman, and guard themselves and their property as the four spirit kings protect the images of the temple halls from demons. they march with light elastic step, they feel neither the icy-cold cutting wind nor the scorching sun; every step is a link in a chain which cannot be broken by the powers of evil which persecute and torment the children of men. they start on their way from tarchen-labrang, and every new turn in the road brings them a step nearer to the point where the ring closes. and during the whole peregrination they pray "om mani padme hum," and every time this prayer is uttered they let a bead of the rosary pass through the fingers. the stranger also approaches kang-rinpoche with a feeling of awe. it is incomparably the most famous mountain in the world. mount everest and mont blanc cannot vie with it. yet there are millions of europeans who have never heard of kang-rinpoche, while the hindus and lamaists, all know kailas, though they have no notion where mont blanc lifts up its head. therefore one approaches the mountain with the same feeling of respect as one experiences in lhasa, tashi-lunpo, buddh gaya, benares, mecca, jerusalem, and rome--those holy places which have attracted to their altars countless bands of sin-burdened souls and seekers after truth. our volunteer guide said that he was on his ninth circuit of the mountain. he took two days to each, and intended to go round thirteen times. he called the track kang-kora, the gangri circle. many years before, he had performed the meritorious feat called _gyangchag-tsallgen_, which consists in measuring the length of the way by the length of the pilgrim's body. one such pilgrimage is worth thirteen ordinary circuits on foot. my pilgrimage was of no value at all, because i was riding, the old man said; i must go on foot if i wished to derive any benefit from it. [illustration: . _gulam razul beside bales of chinese brick-tea._] when we came a second time to diri-pu some days later, we saw two young lamas engaged in the prostration pilgrimage round the mountain. they were from kham, and from that part of the country "where the last men dwell," and had been a year on the way to kailas. they were poor and ragged, and had nothing to carry, for they lived on the alms of the faithful. they had come in nine days from tarchen to diri-pu, and reckoned that they had still eleven days to finish their round. i accompanied them for half an hour on foot to observe their procedure. this consisted of six movements. suppose the young lama standing on the path with his forehead held slightly down and his arms hanging loosely at his sides, ( ) he places the palms of his hands together and raises them to the top of his head, at the same time bending his head a little down; ( ) he lays his hands under his chin, lifting up his head again; ( ) he kneels upon the ground, bends forwards and lays himself full length on the ground with outstretched arms; ( ) he passes his hands laid together over his head; ( ) he stretches his right hand forwards as far as it will reach, and scratches a mark in the soil with a piece of bone, which shows the line which must be touched by his toes at the next advance; and ( ) he raises himself up with his hands, makes two or three strides up to the mark, and repeats the same actions. and thus he goes round the whole mountain. it is slow work and they do not hurry; they perform the whole business with composure, but they lose their breath, especially on the way up to the pass. and on the way down from the dolma-la there are places so steep that it must be a gymnastic feat to lie down head foremost. one of the young monks had already accomplished one round, and was now on the second. when he had finished, in twelve days, he intended to betake himself to a monastery on the tsangpo and be there immured for the rest of his life. and he was only twenty years old! we, who in our superior wisdom smile at these exhibitions of fanaticism and self-mortification, ought to compare our own faith and convictions with theirs. the life beyond the grave is hidden from all peoples, but religious conceptions have clothed it in different forms among different peoples. "if thou lookest closely, thou wilt see that hope, the child of heaven, points every mortal with trembling hand to the obscure heights." whatever may be our own convictions, we must admire those who, however erroneous their views may be in our opinion, yet possess faith enough to remove mountains. [illustration: om mani padme hum] chapter lii om mani padme hum now begins the last very steep zigzag in the troublesome path among sharp or round grey boulders of every form and size, a cone of blocks with steps in it. dung-chapje is the name of a round wall of stone, in the midst of which is a smaller boulder, containing in a hollow depression a round stone like the cleft hoof of a wild yak. when the faithful pilgrim passes this spot, he takes this stone, strikes it against the bottom of the hollow and turns it once round like a pestle. consequently the hollow is being constantly deepened, and one day it will be lowered right through the block. we mount up a ridge with brooks flowing on both sides. on every rock, which has a top at all level, small stones are piled up, and many of these pyramidal heaps are packed so closely that there is no room for another stone. thanks to these cairns the pilgrim can find his way in snowstorm and fog, though without them he could not easily find it in sunshine. at length we see before us a gigantic boulder, its cubical contents amounting perhaps to , or , cubic feet; it stands like an enormous milestone on the saddle of dolma-la, which attains the tremendous height of , feet. on the top of the block smaller stones are piled up into a pyramid supporting a pole, and from its end cords decorated with rags and streamers are stretched to other poles fixed in the ground. horns and bones, chiefly shoulder-blades of sheep, are here deposited in large quantities--gifts of homage to the pass, which is supposed to mark the half-way point of the pilgrimage. when the pilgrim arrives here, he smears a bit of butter on the side of the stone, plucks out a lock of his own hair and plasters it into the butter. thus he has offered up some of himself and some of his belongings. consequently the stone resembles a huge wig-block, from which black locks of hair flutter in the wind. in time it would be completely covered with tibetan hair, were it not that the locks occasionally fall off and are blown away by the wind. teeth are stuck in all the chinks of the dolma block, forming whole rosaries of human teeth. if you have a loose tooth, dedicate it to the spirits of the pass. tsering unfortunately was toothless, or he would gladly have conformed to this regulation. heaps of rags lie all around, for the pilgrim has always a spare shred to hang on a string or lay at the foot of the block. but he not only gives, but also takes. our old man took a rag from the heap and had a large quantity of such relics round his neck, for he had taken one from every cairn. the view is grand, though kailas itself is not visible. but one can see the sharp black ridge lying quite close on the south side with a mantle of snow and a hanging glacier, its blue margin cut off perpendicularly at the small moraine lake on the eastern side of the pass. while i sat at the foot of the block, making observations and drawing the panorama, a lama came strolling up leaning on his stick. he carried a book, a drum, a _dorche_, and a bell, and likewise a sickly-looking child in a basket on his back. the parents, nomads in the valley below, had given him _tsamba_ for two days to carry the child round the mountain, whereby it would recover its health. many pilgrims gain their livelihood by such services, and some make the pilgrimage only for the benefit of others. the lama with the child complained that he had only made the circuit of the mountain three times, and did not possess money enough to go round thirteen times. i gave him alms. then he sat down on the pass, turned his face in the direction where the summit of kang-rinpoche was hidden, placed his hands together, and chanted an interminable succession of prayers. after this he went up to the block and laid his forehead on the ground--how many times i do not know, but he was still at it when we descended among boulders to the tiny round lake tso-kavála. we followed its northern shore, and our old friend told me that the ice never breaks up. but time slips away and we must hasten on. we walk, slide, and scramble down steep slopes where it would be easy to tumble down head over heels. the old man is sure-footed, and these slopes are old acquaintances. but woe betide him if he turned round and went in the reverse direction. at length we reach the main valley, called in its upper part tselung, and in its lower lam-chyker. through the large valley, which enters the main valley on the right side, and is called kando-sanglam, we now look eastwards upon the highest pinnacle of the summit of kailas, which has a sharp edge towards the north-east, and still looks like a crystal. at two _manis_ erected side by side we pass the border of the granite and the conglomerate, which now appears again. the further we proceed the more numerous are the boulders of this kind of rock, while those of granite at length occur no more. we march south-west and bivouac on the roof of the monastery tsumtul-pu. all day long, at all the cairns and all the resting-places, i have heard nothing but an endless murmur of the words "om mani padme hum," and now, as long as i am awake, "om mani padme hum" sounds in my ears from all nooks and corners. the temple had no other curiosity but a statue of duk ngavang gyamtso, feet high, sitting as at a writing-desk, two not very large elephant's tusks, and a five-branched chandelier from lhasa. our visit, therefore, did not last long, and we rode down the valley in which the river gradually increased in size. here, too, _manis_ and _chhortens_ are erected, and at the end of the valley, where again numbers of granite boulders are accumulated, we see once more langak-tso and the grand gurla group. [illustration: . tibetan tent.] [illustration: . monastery of gar-gunsa.] [illustration: . images at chushut.] at tarchen-labrang we reached the termination of the pilgrimage. here twenty-three tents were pitched, and we received the greatest attention, were refreshed with milk and _chang_, and rested two hours. then we left the pilgrim road to the right, and came into sight of the fourth monastery, perched high up on a terrace in the valley below the holy peak. a curious local wind at the north-west corner of langak-tso raised up clouds of dust like the smoke of a burning town. a short while after, we lay peacefully among our men in the camp on the khaleb moor. by this pilgrimage round the holy mountain, which i had been able to accomplish by an unexpected lucky chance, i had gained an insight into the religious life of the tibetans. it had also been, as it were, a revisal of all the experiences i had already collected in this connection. our knowledge of tibet is still defective, and some future traveller will find sufficient material to show on a map of the whole lamaistic world all the great pilgrim routes to innumerable sanctuaries. on such a map numerous roads would converge, like the spokes of a wheel, to da kuren, the temple of maidari in urga. still closer would the rays from every inhabited spot of the immense territory of lamaism run together to their chief focus, lhasa. somewhat less thickly they would unite at tashi-lunpo. innumerable winding roads and paths would start from the farthest border countries of tibet, all tending towards the holy kailas. we know that they exist, and no great imagination is required to conceive how they would look on a map. but it is with the routes of pilgrims just as with the flight of the wild-geese: we know nothing of their precise course. besides, among the principal foci are scattered a number of smaller centres whence radii diverge to a sanctuary, a lake, or a spring, and from the heart of all these wind-roses peals out a cry to the faithful, similar to the exhortation of isaiah: "look upon zion, the city of our solemnities: thine eyes shall see jerusalem" (isa. xxxiii. ). in the ears of the tibetan another saying rings, the mystical formula "om mani padme hum," not only on his wanderings to the goal of his pilgrimage, but throughout his life. concerning this waddell makes, among others, the following remarks: "om-ma-ni pad-me hum, which literally means '_om!_ the jewel in the lotus!' _hum!_--is addressed to the bodhisat padmapani, who is represented like buddha as seated or standing within a lotus-flower. he is the patron-god of tibet and the controller of metempsychosis. and no wonder this formula is so popular and constantly repeated by both lamas and laity, for its mere utterance is believed to stop the cycle of re-births and to convey the reciter directly to paradise. thus it is stated in the mani-kah-bum with extravagant rhapsody that this formula 'is the essence of all happiness, prosperity, and knowledge, and the great means of deliverance,' for the _om_ closes re-birth amongst the gods, _ma_ among the titans, _ni_ as a man, _pad_ as a beast, _me_ as a tantalus, and _hum_ as an inhabitant of hell. and in keeping with this view each of these six syllables is given the distinctive colour of these six states of re-birth, namely: _om_, the godly _white_; _ma_, the titanic _blue_; _ni_, the human _yellow_; _pad_, the animal _green_; _me_, the 'tantalic' _red_; and _hum_, the hellish _black_" (_the buddhism of tibet_, - ). köppen and grünwedel translate the four words: "o, jewel in the lotus-flower, amen." wherever one turns in tibet, he sees the six sacred characters engraved or chiselled out, and hears them repeated everywhere. they are found in every temple in hundreds of thousands of copies, nay, in millions, for in the great prayer mills they are stamped in fine letters on thin paper. on the monastery roofs, on the roofs of private houses, and on the black tents, they are inscribed on the fluttering streamers. on all the roads we ride daily past wall-like stone cists covered with slabs, on which the formula "om mani padme hum" is carved. seldom does the most lonely path lead up to a pass where no cairn is erected to remind the wanderer of his dependence all his life long on the influence of good and bad spirits. and on the top of every such _lhato_ or _lhadse_ is fixed a pole or a stick with streamers, every one proclaiming in black letters the eternal truth. at projecting rocks cubical _chhortens_ or _lhatos_ stand beside the road in red and white. on the sides of granite rocks polished smooth by wind and weather figures of buddha are frequently cut, and below them, as well as on fallen boulders, can be read in gigantic characters "om mani padme hum." on the piers between which chain bridges are stretched over the tsangpo or other rivers, heaps of stones are piled up, and on all these innumerable votive cairns lie yak skulls and crania of wild sheep and antelopes. into the horns and the bleached frontal bones of the yak the sacred formula is cut, and the incised characters are filled in with red or some other holy colour. we find them again in innumerable copies and in many forms, especially on the high-roads which lead to temples and pilgrims' resorts, as well as at all places where there is danger, as on mountain passes and river fords. and even the ferry boats of hide are decorated with blessed streamers. in every caravan one man at least, and usually several, has a prayer-mill in his hand. this is rotated by means of a weight round the axle of the handle, and is stuffed full of paper strips bearing the holy formula in many thousands of impressions. all day long, whatever the duration of the journey, the believer turns his prayer-mill and babbles in chanting tones "om mani padme hum." the militia who are called out to catch a robber band have on their ride more confidence in their prayer-mills than in their guns and sabres, and, sad to say, there are some even among the robbers who rattle off their om and hum in order to make their escape. among the escorts which accompanied me on various occasions there were always one or two horsemen armed with a _mani_ machine. one always sees this convenient praying instrument in the hands of the people one meets. the herdsman murmurs the six syllables beside his herd, his wife when milking the sheep, the merchant as he goes to market, the hunter as he stalks the wild yak on untrodden paths, the nomad when he sets out to move his tent to another pasture, the artisan as he bends over his work. with these words the tibetan begins his day, and with them on his tongue he lies down to rest. the om and hum are not only the alpha and omega of the day, but of his whole life. the mystic words rang constantly in my ears. i heard them when the sun rose and when i blew out my light, and i did not escape them even in the wilderness, for my own men murmured "om mani padme hum." they belong to tibet, these words; they are inseparable from it: i cannot imagine the snow-capped mountains and the blue lakes without them. they are as closely connected with this country as buzzing with the bee-hive, as the flutter of streamers with the pass, as the ceaseless west wind with its howling. the life of the tibetan from the cradle to the grave is interwoven with a multitude of religious precepts and customs. it is his duty to contribute his mite to the maintenance of the monasteries and to the peter's pence of the temples. when he passes a votive cairn he adds a stone to the pile as an offering; when he rides by a _mani_, he never forgets to guide his steed to the left of it; when he sees a holy mountain, he never omits to lay his forehead on the ground in homage; in all important undertakings he must, for the sake of his eternal salvation, seek the advice of monks learned in the law; when a mendicant lama comes to his door he never refuses to give him a handful of _tsamba_ or a lump of butter; when he makes the round of the temple halls, he adds his contribution to the collection in the votive bowls; and when he saddles his horse or loads a yak, he again hums the everlasting "om mani padme hum." more frequently than an ave maria or a paternoster in the catholic world, "om mani padme hum" forms an accompaniment to the life and wanderings of humanity over half asia. the boundless vista opened out by the six holy syllables is thus expressed by edwin arnold in the concluding lines of his poem, _the light of asia_: the dew is on the lotus. rise, great sun! and lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. om mani padme hum, the sunrise comes. the dewdrop slips into the shining sea. [illustration: . the policemen from simla.] [illustration: . my boat on the indus.] [illustration: . ladaki women.] chapter liii the discovery of the source of the indus immediately on my arrival in khaleb i told the old gova, who had the hopeless and thankless task of watching my proceedings, that i now intended to take the road past singi-kabab, or the source of the indus. "if you go thither, bombo," he answered, "i shall at once send a courier to the garpuns, the two chiefs in gartok." "i do not think that the garpuns will have any objection to my taking a more northerly route." "oh yes, the garpuns received orders from lhasa five days ago to watch carefully that you followed no other way but the great high-road to gartok. the garpuns straightway sent couriers to twelve different places--parka, misser, purang, singtod, and others--to make it known that you were not permitted to travel on byroads. if this letter had not reached me, i would willingly have let you march northwards, but now i dare not for my own sake." "what would you do if i quietly disappeared one night? i can buy yaks in tarchen, and then i shall not be dependent on those i have from you." "yes, of course. a man lives in tarchen who has sixty yaks, and will sell them as soon as he sees silver money. but i shall at once send word to the garpuns, and they will send men after you and force you to come back. to buy yaks would therefore be useless waste of money. however, if you like to let the main part of your caravan follow the high-road, and make yourself an excursion of a couple of days northwards to the singi-kabab, and then join your caravan again, i will put no obstacles in your way. but you do it at your own risk, and you will most certainly be caught before you reach the source of the indus." i was as much astonished as delighted by this sudden change in the attitude of the gova, and arranged with robert that he should lead the main caravan in very short day's marches to gartok, while i made as rapidly as possible for the source of the indus. i took only as many things as a small leathern trunk would contain, and as companions only five men, among them rabsang as interpreter and adul as cook, with our own six animals and three dogs, one of which, a new purchase, ran away on the first day. i had robert's small tent, and our arsenal consisted of two guns and a revolver, for robbers were said to make the country very unsafe. i could not find a guide, but on the way to diri-pu, where i encamped once more, i came across an old man from tok-jalung, who wished to make the round of kailas thirteen times, and gave me much valuable information. but no money could induce him to accompany us farther. on the th we continued our way through the valley that runs north-north-eastwards from diri-pu to the tseti-la. the stream, divided into many arms, was covered in the night by a thin coating of ice, smooth as glass, where the water had run off, but it disappeared when day came. the valley is broad, and the road showed traces of considerable traffic, though we did not meet a soul. the marmots whistled in front of their holes; the summer would soon be over for them. kang-rinpoche can be seen from many places, and here pilgrims from the north have piled up cairns. granite predominates everywhere, but crystalline schists occur here and there. we followed the fresh tracks of three horsemen. the gradient became steeper and the scenery assumed more of an alpine character. we mounted up among huge cones of detritus with babbling brooks of melted snow to the pass, which lay at a height of , feet. its plateau is singularly flat. on its northern side camp no. was pitched. in the evening rabsang reported that our fuel-gatherers had heard whistles, and that these signals had been answered from the other side. the men believed that there were robbers here, and did not dare to sit outside by the fire lest they should be good marks for shots out of an ambush. i quieted them with the assurance that no robber would venture to attack a european, but gave orders to the watchmen to keep an eye on our animals. the night passed quietly and the minimum temperature went down to . °; autumn was come again into dreary tibet. i had supposed that the tseti-la was the pass on the main divide, but we had not gone far when we saw its brook, which flowed northwards, make a bend to the west, and descend through a well-defined valley to the dunglung. it therefore belongs to the catchment basin of the sutlej and not to the indus, and the tseti-la is a pass of secondary order. but we soon reached the actual pass, an extremely flat threshold. here lies a small muddy lake drained by a brook issuing from its eastern side, which we followed all day. this pass is the tseti-lachen-la, and it is a water-parting between the sutlej and the indus. its height is less than that of the tseti-la, for it is only , feet; it lies on the main chain of the trans-himalaya. kailas, therefore, lies a good day's journey south of the watershed of the two rivers, and belongs entirely to the basin of the sutlej. from the lake we follow the little affluent of the indus northwards. the ground is marshy and rough. here and there are seen three hearthstones. a dead horse lies among the luxuriant grass. it is singular that no nomads are encamped here. at length we see at a far distance quite down in the valley men going downstream with large flocks of sheep. tundup sonam and ishe are sent after them, and by degrees the rest of us come up with the party. they are nomads from gertse, who have taken salt to gyanima and are now transporting barley on their sheep. all the valley is dotted over with white sheep, which trip along actively, plucking the grass as they go. in front of us rises a steep purple mountain chain, and along the flank turned towards us the indus is said to flow. we joined the men of the sheep caravan and camped together with them. there were five of them, all armed with guns, and they said that the district was frequently haunted by robbers, who at times seemed to vanish altogether, and then suddenly came down like a whirlwind, and no one knew whence they came. our camping-ground on the bank of the indus ( , feet) is called singi-buk. eastwards the valley is broad and open, but the indus itself is here an insignificant stream. i was therefore not astonished when i heard that it was only a short day's journey to the source, which, i was told, does not proceed from snow or a glacier, but springs up out of the ground. the men called the river the singi-tsangpo, or singi-kamba, and the source itself singi-kabab, though we afterwards heard the word pronounced senge more frequently than singi. it turned out that one of the five men knew all about us. he was a brother of the lobsang tsering on the dungtse-tso who had sold us three yaks the winter before (see chapter xv.). it was a singular chance that we should fall in with him. he said he had heard how well we had treated his brother, and offered us his services--for a good reward, of course. as he had travelled several times through this region, quite unknown to europeans, and was acquainted with all the passes, roads, and valleys, i thought he would be very valuable to me, and i proposed to give him rupees a day, that is about half a month's pay of one of my ladakis. of course he accepted the terms at once and soon became our intimate friend. but these business matters were not yet settled. the man had a quantity of sheep and barley. he consented to let us eight sheep on hire, and sell us their loads, which would last our horses for a week. he was to receive a rupee for the hire of each sheep, which was high, for a sheep is worth only to rupees. the old man would therefore receive rupees every evening as long as he was with us; but it was cheap after all, for the discovery of the source of the indus was involved. [illustration: , , . at the monastery door in tashi-gang between gartok and ladak.] the large sheep-caravan had already started on september , when we, with our new guide, whose own _tsamba_ was carried on a ninth sheep, followed in its track. after an hour's march we crossed a tributary, the lungdep-chu, which comes from a valley in the south-east, with flattish mountains in the background. a little farther up the singi-kamba expands into a basin containing an abundance of medium-sized fish. as we passed, the fish were darting upstream in compact shoals, and passed a very shallow place with slight swirls. here rabsang attacked them, but all his catch was only one small miserable fish. then we threw up a dam by the bank, with an opening on one side, and the men went into the water and drove in the fish with shouts and splashing. then the entrance was built up. after we had repeated this diversion three times, we had procured thirty-seven fine fish, and i was eager for my dinner, which i usually looked forward to with some loathing, for the hard dried mutton had become thoroughly distasteful to me. our old man, who sat and watched us, thought that we had taken leave of our senses. farther up, the fish were so crowded in a quiet pool that they made the water seem almost black with their dark backs. we rode up the valley, leaving on our right a red, loaf-shaped mountain called lungdep-ningri. opposite, on the northern side of the valley, were seen two fine ovis ammon sheep feeding on a conical elevation. they bore splendid horns, and carried their heads royally. they soon perceived us, and made slowly up the slope. but they paid too much attention to our movements, and did not notice that tundup sonam, with his gun on his back, was making a detour to stalk them from the other side of the hill. after a while we heard a shot, and a good hour later, when the camp was pitched, tundup came back laden with as much of the flesh of his victim as he could carry. thus we obtained a fresh addition to our somewhat scanty rations, and tundup's exploit enhanced the glory of this memorable day. in the evening he went off again to fetch more meat, and he brought me the head of the wild sheep, which i wished to preserve as a memento of the day at the source of the indus. the ground rises exceedingly slowly. singi-yüra is a rugged cliff to the north, with a large hole through its summit. singi-chava is the name of a commanding eminence to the south. then we wade through the outflow of the munjam valley running in from the south-east. above this the indus is only a tiny brook, and part of its water comes from a valley in the south-east, the bokar. a little later we camp at the aperture of the spring, which is so well concealed that it might easily be overlooked without a guide. from the mountains on the northern side a flattish cone of detritus, or, more correctly, a slope bestrewn with rubbish, descends to the level, open valley. at its foot projects a slab of white rock with an almost horizontal bedding, underneath which several small springs well up out of the ground, forming weedy ponds and the source stream, which we had traced upwards, and which is the first and uppermost of the headwaters of the mighty indus. the four largest springs, where they issued from the ground, had temperatures of . °, . °, . °, and . ° respectively. they are said to emit the same quantity of water in winter and summer, but a little more after rainy seasons. up on the slab of rock stand three tall cairns and a small cubical _lhato_ containing votive pyramids of clay. and below the _lhato_ is a quadrangular _mani_, with hundreds of red flagstones, some covered with fine close inscriptions, some bearing a single character inches high. on two the wheel of life was incised, and on another a divine image, which i carried off as a souvenir of the source of the indus. our guide said that the source singi-kabab was reverenced because of its divine origin. when travellers reached this place or any other part of the upper indus, they scooped up water with their hands, drank of it, and sprinkled their faces and heads with it. [illustration: . dancing women in chushut, a village on my way back to ladak.] through the investigations made by montgomerie's pundits in the year it was known that the eastern arm of the indus is the actual headwater, and i had afterwards an opportunity of proving by measurement that the western, gartok, stream is considerably smaller. but no pundit had succeeded in penetrating to the source, and the one who had advanced nearest to it, namely, to a point miles from it, had been attacked by robbers and forced to turn back. consequently, until our time the erroneous opinion prevailed that the indus had its source on the north flank of kailas, and, thanks to those admirable robbers, the discovery of the indus source was reserved for me and my five ladakis. we passed a memorable evening and a memorable night at this important geographical spot, situated , feet above sea-level. here i stood and saw the indus emerge from the lap of the earth. here i stood and saw this unpretentious brook wind down the valley, and i thought of all the changes it must undergo before it passes between rocky cliffs, singing its roaring song in ever more powerful crescendo, down to the sea at karachi, where steamers load and unload their cargoes. i thought of its restless course through western tibet, through ladak and baltistan, past skardu, where the apricot trees nod on its banks, through dardistan and kohistan, past peshawar, and across the plains of the western panjab, until at last it is swallowed up by the salt waves of the ocean, the nirvana and the refuge of all weary rivers. here i stood and wondered whether the macedonian alexander, when he crossed the indus years ago, had any notion where its source lay, and i revelled in the consciousness that, except the tibetans themselves, no other human being but myself had penetrated to this spot. great obstacles had been placed in my way, but providence had secured for me the triumph of reaching the actual sources of the brahmaputra and indus, and ascertaining the origin of these two historical rivers, which, like the claws of a crab, grip the highest of all the mountain systems of the world--the himalayas. their waters are born in the reservoirs of the firmament, and they roll down their floods to the lowlands to yield life and sustenance to fifty millions of human beings. up here white monasteries stand peacefully on their banks, while in india pagodas and mosques are reflected in their waters; up here wolves, wild yaks, and wild sheep, roam about their valleys, while down below in india the eyes of tigers and leopards shine like glowing coals of fire from the jungles that skirt their banks, and poisonous snakes wriggle through the dense brushwood. here in dreary tibet icy storms and cold snowfalls lash their waves, while down in the flat country mild breezes whisper in the crowns of the palms and mango trees. i seemed to listen here to the beating of the pulses of these two renowned rivers, to watch the industry and rivalry which, through untold generations, have occupied unnumbered human lives, short and transitory as the life of the midge and the grass; all those wanderers on the earth and guests in the abodes of time, who have been born beside the fleeting current of these rivers, have drunk of their waters, have drawn from them life and strength for their fields, have lived and died on their banks, and have risen from the sheltered freedom of their valleys up to the realms of eternal hope. not without pride, but still with a feeling of humble thankfulness, i stood there, conscious that i was the first white man who had ever penetrated to the sources of the indus and brahmaputra. chapter liv a resolution from the source of the indus we travelled on north-eastwards with our friendly guide to a locality called yumba-matsen, which lies in lat. ° n. and thence i betook myself to gartok, the chief town of western tibet and the residence of the two garpuns, where i arrived after many adventures on september , having crossed the trans-himalaya for the fifth time by the jukti-la ( , feet high). i must, alas! omit a description of this journey for the present, though it passed for the most part through unknown country. mr. calvert crossed over the jukti-la two years before. in gartok ( , feet) a new period began. this town is a turning-point in the chronicles of my journey. in the first place, i again came into contact with the outer world. thakur jai chand, the british commercial agent, handed me immediately on my arrival a thick packet of letters, including a quantity from my dear home, and others from lord and lady minto and their daughters, from colonel dunlop smith, younghusband, o'connor, rawling, and many other friends in europe and asia. nothing, however, was heard of the heavy consignment i expected from simla. but soon afterwards i heard from dunlop smith that all i had ordered was on the way and would arrive in due course, and meantime i had to wait in patience. the garpuns at once sent me presents as a token of welcome, with the usual polite phrases. they were of too great importance to visit me first, so next day i went to them. the elder was ill; the younger, a gentleman from lhasa, thirty-five years of age and of distinguished appearance, received me most cordially in his simple government buildings, and was so little angry at the liberties i had recently taken that he did not even ask me where i had been. it was an irony of fate that a letter in most friendly terms and most liberal in its concessions, which i now received from lien darin by the hand of the garpun, had not reached me until it was too late. when lien darin received my letter from raga-tasam, he immediately sent off two chinamen fully authorized to come to an agreement with me about the route i was to take. "for i shall be glad to know," said the amban of lhasa, "that you are travelling by the road that suits you." he was quite convinced that my movements, whichever way i took, would give no cause for political complications. and he concluded with the words: "now, i hope that you will have a successful and peaceful journey, and i will pray for your health and prosperity." how i regretted now that i had not stayed in saka, and so much the more when the garpun told me that the two chinamen had arrived with an escort of four tibetans only two weeks after we had left! but the garpun was friendly disposed towards me; he was the most powerful man in western tibet, and could still throw open all doors for me, if he dared and was willing to do so. [illustration: . old woman.] [illustration: . lama in chushut. sketches by the author.] i was, indeed, pleased and thankful for the results which i had already been able to secure. besides many other problems that had been solved, i had crossed the trans-himalaya by five passes, namely, the sela-la, chang-la-pod-la, angden-la, tseti-lachen-la, and jukti-la, of which the first four had been entirely unknown. but between the angden-la and the tseti-lachen-la i had been obliged to leave a gap of quite miles in the exploration of the trans-himalaya. of this region nothing was known but the summits ryder had seen from his route, and which he and wood had measured by observation. we also possessed some uncertain statements of nain sing's journey in , but his route lay to the north of the blank patch, and this blank represented an area of square miles. i could not return home without having done all that was humanly possible to traverse the unknown country by at least one route. precisely there was the line forming the watershed between the indian ocean and the inland drainage of the salt lakes on the tibetan plateau. there many lakes and rivers might be expected to exist, and there lay the large province of bongba, of which so many hazy reports had reached our ears from its northern, eastern, and southern boundaries. but the greatest and most important question of all was: does the nien-chen-tang-la run right through tibet in a westerly and north-westerly direction to the north of the tsangpo and the upper indus? no european and no pundit had hitherto ventured on this problem; but hodgson, saunders, and atkinson had many years before laid down a hypothetical range on their maps of tibet. did it actually exist? or was a labyrinth of ranges hidden under the white space, or a comparatively flat plateau, on which foundation isolated snowy peaks and chains were based? hypotheses are absolutely worthless compared to proved facts. such facts i would procure. i knew that if i did not succeed now in penetrating into the country which on the latest english map of tibet ( , map ) bears only the word "unexplored," one fine day another explorer would come and rob me of this triumph. and this thought i could not endure. in gartok my old friend from leh, the rich merchant gulam razul, was staying (illust. ). i consulted him, and he was to be my delivering angel. he took a very sanguine view of our position, for the garpun owed him rupees for goods delivered, and feared his influence; he could therefore put pressure on the viceroy of western tibet. he first tried stratagem, which, however, completely failed, for the garpun replied he was too fond of his head to expose it to risk by assisting a european who had no permission to travel about the country. then we tried gold, but the garpun answered most theatrically: "if this house were of gold and you offered it to me, i would not take it. if you travel on forbidden roads, i will send armed men after you who will force you to return hither." he was incorruptible, and he was too strong for us. how sorry i was now that i had not proceeded eastwards when i was in enjoyment of complete freedom at the source of the indus and in yumba-matsen! but no, that was impossible, for my cash-box was then not full enough, i had only five men with me, and i could not have left the rest of my caravan to their own devices. what if i went down into nepal and came back again into tibet by unguarded roads? no, that would not do, for snow would soon close the himalayan passes. and if we tried to slink through to rudok and thence make eastwards? no, rudok swarmed with spies. and soon gulam razul learned also that the garpun had sent orders throughout his territory to stop me in case i attempted to travel even to ladak by any other than the main high-road. thus we planned this and that, and mused day and night, sometimes in my tent, sometimes in gulam razul's, and waited for the consignment from simla, heard bells jingle when couriers came from the east, saw one merchant after another return from the fair in lhasa, met the _serpun_ or gold commissioner who came from tok-jalung, and felt the cold of autumn cut our skins more sharply as the thermometer fell to - °. then in lonely hours i came to the resolution to return to ladak and thence, as in the year before, penetrate into tibet from the north, traverse the whole country once more, and cross the blank space. i knew very well that by this roundabout way it would take half a year to reach districts situated only a month's journey from gartok. a new caravan would be necessary, new dangers and adventures awaited us, and winter was before us with its arctic cold. but it must be done in spite of everything. i would not turn back until the obstacles in my way became quite insuperable. to enter ladak, a country under british protection, was a risk, and therefore i must make all haste to cross the frontier again. i could not avoid rawling's and deasy's country, but what did it matter? my aim was the unknown region, which i would try to explore by some route or other. gulam razul and robert were the only ones who were initiated into my new plans, for in them i could place the blindest confidence. during our conferences we spoke in persian, and robert kept a watch that no eavesdropper came near my tent. gulam razul undertook to get together the new caravan from leh, and it was to reach at a certain time drugub, where i meant to dismiss my last thirteen men; they were worn-out and longed to get home. gulam razul undertook the responsibility of finding me fresh men. on october we left gartok to await in gar-gunsa the arrival of the consignment from india. gulam razul, thakur jai chand, the postmaster deni das, and the doctor mohanlal, also moved thither. robert had heard in gartok the sad news that his elder brother had died in further india, and now he received a fresh blow, for his little brother, ten years old, had been drowned in srinagar. he was inconsolable, and begged me to let him go home to his mother, who had now only one son left. so i was to lose him also. gulam razul had three large tents within his fence of boughs (illust. ). there he sat like a pasha on his divan, smoked a large silver narghilé, and received his guests with oriental dignity. he was jovial and agreeable, undertook to do everything, and thought nothing of difficulties. there we made our plans and long lists of things to be bought, and as my arrival in ladak could not be kept secret for long, we spread the report that i wanted a new caravan for a journey to khotan, and that i intended to travel to pekin in the spring. for the success of the plan it was essential that no one should have any suspicion of my real intentions; for in that case, especial orders would be sent to rudok and to the nomads. my own servants and all hajji nazer shah's household believed therefore that it was my settled purpose to go to khotan, and that i had given up all thoughts of tibet. i even went so far as to send a telegram from drugub to reuter's correspondent in india, my friend mr. buck, with the information that i was about to make a short journey to khotan. the object was to mislead the mandarins. if no one else would help me, i must help myself, and, if necessary, with cunning and trickery. none of my indian friends must have any suspicion of my real plans, not even colonel dunlop smith; it would, of course, be silly to put them in a position where they must either betray me or be disloyal to their own superiors. except gulam razul and robert, only my parents and sisters were let into the secret. but, unfortunately, i had given them a far too optimistic estimate of the length of my enterprise, and therefore when they heard no news they became day by day more uneasy, and at last came to the conclusion that i had come to grief (illust. ). on october , , gulam razul's mules arrived, and were subjected to a thorough inspection. they were in splendid condition--small, sturdy, and sleek animals from lhasa, accustomed to rarefied air, and, according to the owner, capable of enduring hardships of every kind. gulam razul even offered to buy them back at the price i paid, if they returned alive. i paid for all the twenty rupees. i still possessed five of my own animals, after a small white mule had been torn to pieces by wolves in gartok. a whole pack had attacked our last six animals, the camp watchman had been unable to drive the wolves away, and the mule had been horribly wounded. he had been seen running before the wolves with his entrails trailing on the ground. the last mule from poonch still survived, as well as my little ladaki grey and one of his fellows, the veterans of leh. [illustration: . on the way to tankse.] [illustration: . in the indus valley on the way to ladak.] [illustration: . the new horses and mules at drugub.] gulam razul also undertook to procure for me fifteen excellent horses from ladak at a price of rupees. the other purchases consisted of: barley for the animals, rupees; rice, rupees; _tsamba_, rupees; provender sacks, rupees; clothes for the new men, rupees; butter, rupees; tea, rupees; stearin candles and sugar, rupees; a lhasa skin coat for myself, rupees; and a sleeping-bag of soft goatskin, also for myself, rupees; in addition there was the hire of the pack animals which conveyed my baggage to leh, rupees, and the cost of transporting the newly purchased goods from leh to drugub, rupees. eleven men were to be enlisted in leh, all having served in hajji nazer shah's commercial house and known as honest respectable people. they were to receive rupees a month each, though their usual wages had not been more than , and three months' pay in advance. the caravan bashi was to receive rupees a month and be selected with very great care. my whole debt to gulam razul amounted to nearly rupees, for those who had had the trouble of making all these purchases were to receive a douceur over and above. i sent a note of hand to colonel dunlop smith, with directions that this sum should be paid to gulam razul, in order that he might have security if i did not return from this journey. on october gulam razul sent his son to leh to equip the new caravan, which was to reach drugub, ready in all particulars, on november . for the valuable services rendered me on this occasion gulam razul afterwards received from h.m. king gustaf of sweden the gold medal "for distinguished service," and i recommended him to the indian government for the title of honour, khan bahadur; of course i based my appeal in this case on the great commercial services he had rendered to the indian empire. in gar-gunsa i heard news of a new treaty between great britain and russia, which had been concluded in october of this year. "great britain and russia bind themselves not to allow any scientific expedition of any kind whatsoever to enter tibet for the next three years without previous agreement, and call upon china to act similarly" (illust. ). it seemed as though this clause were especially designed to meet my case. i said not a word to gulam razul about it. but i saw that i could no longer travel in tibet as a european. last year i had been successful when the political situation was still unsettled, but i had taught both the chinese and tibetans a lesson, and shown them that it was possible for a european to travel right across the country. i had also placed a weapon in their hands against me. i should not be able to manage it a second time. now they would keep their eyes open along the periphery of the inhabited country. i must travel in disguise to attract as little attention as possible. another courier was therefore sent to leh to procure me a complete ladaki costume in mohammedan fashion. gulam razul also was of opinion that, considering all circumstances, it would be wisest to travel as a merchant. the new caravan leader was to be our master, while i myself should figure as "the least of his servants," and keep myself out of sight in all negotiations. the whole affair was a desperate game, a political and diplomatic game of chess, the stakes being my own life or great geographical discoveries. i, who had hitherto stood on the most friendly and confidential terms with the tibetans, must now avoid them as enemies. i should not be able to see any tibetan face to face, and should have to conceal my own eyes in order not to be caught. therefore a large pair of round goggles with dark glasses was bought; inside them i fastened polished glasses of the strength suited to my sight. my european outfit was restricted as much as was at all possible; the large camera and the boat were sent to leh with my other baggage, and i took with me only a small richard's camera. the main point was that in inhabited districts i should conduct myself with oriental self-control and be entirely passive. the outcome of this mad plan was to me enshrouded in impenetrable darkness. i only knew that i must go northwards from drugub in the direction of the karakorum pass, then turn to the east and south-east, and endeavour to cross from lemchung-tso the blank space lying to the south of bower's route in , and thence continue my journey through the great blank patch on the north of the upper tsangpo. if i were successful, i would go south to india either through nepal or through gyangtse, where perhaps i might have an opportunity of meeting major o'connor, as i had always wished to do. gulam razul advised me to be very cautious, for the rudok-dzong had a paid spy in drugub, who had to report on the movements of europeans on the english side of the frontier. this spy was one of the most dangerous reefs in my fairway; the suspicion of the tibetans was at once roused when they found that i had bought twenty mules from gulam razul. the garpun sent a messenger to find out what i wanted them for. he was told that they were for a journey to khotan. thakur jai chand had an excellent _jamadar_ whom he sent to meet the baggage coming from india. at length, in the beginning of november, we received news that the consignment was coming. then robert proposed to go to meet our wished-for guests with some of our new mules. late on the evening of the th they all turned up when i was already in bed. they were five policemen from rampur, one of them suffering from inflammation of the lungs and more dead than alive. when robert met them they were so starved and exhausted that he had first to massage the whole party to put new life into them (illust. ). i at once gave orders to light a roaring fire and serve tea. they came up with their laden mules, two mohammedans, three hindus--all in dark blue uniforms with tall blue-and-white turbans, rifles, and bayonets. i bade them welcome, thanked them for the excellent way in which they had performed their task, and made their corporal give me an account of their difficult and trying journey over the ayi-la. then they were shown to sleeping-places in a tent, and next day i looked through the nine chests sent to me by colonel dunlop smith. three of them contained rupees in silver, all of the queen's reign, none of the king's, for the tibetans will not take rupees on which king edward's face is stamped. the other boxes contained tinned meat of all kinds, preserves, chocolate, cheese, cakes and biscuits; cigars, cigarettes and tobacco; gold and silver watches, and revolvers with ammunition, for presents; cartridges for two of our guns; note-books and map paper; a whole library of new novels, including jack london's _the call of the wild_--a present from o'connor and suitable reading for the adventurous time before us; an anemometer and a hydrometer, presents from the chief of the central meteorological institute in simla, dr. gilbert walker; and a host of other necessary and acceptable articles. the amiable colonel, his equally amiable sister, and his daughter, had had no end of trouble in selecting and purchasing the things, packing them up and transmitting them to tibet. it was owing to their kindness that i was able for a long time to live like a prince, and i cannot be sufficiently grateful to them. now i had nothing more to wait for. the policemen were well paid, and i also bore the expense of their return journey and gave them winter clothing; took a hearty farewell of my sincere friend gulam razul, without whose help the new journey would have been impossible; thanked thakur jai chand and the other hindus for their kindness, and started off on november , , north-westwards along the course of the upper indus. on the th we reached tankse, where the dignitaries of the district and even the _tesildar_ of leh came to meet us. they had already heard that i intended to travel to khotan in midwinter. the following day was to be a day of rest, for here i was to discharge all my old servants except robert and the gurkha, rub das. when i had breakfasted, tsering carried out the plates and dishes, which now had many chips out of their enamel. "this is the last time, tsering, that you will wait on me." then the old man began to weep, and hurried out quickly. then i summoned all the men to my tent and made them a speech, telling them that they had served me faithfully and obediently, and had well earned the comfort and repose that awaited them by their domestic hearths in the bosom of their families. i wished them good fortune and prosperity in the future, and reminded them of the loss we had all sustained by the death of muhamed isa--good old muhamed isa, who, when we were last at tankse, had made all arrangements so cleverly and conscientiously. and to show them that we were not the only ones who mourned for him, i read them what younghusband, o'connor, and rawling had written to me about the deceased. [illustration: . robert in winter dress.] while their five horses and five yaks were being loaded with all their belongings, they came to me in my tent, one after another, to receive their pay and an extra present. tsering, rehim ali, shukkur ali, and tundup sonam received especial gifts of money, the latter three having exposed themselves to danger on my account. old tsering asked to be allowed to keep the lame dog from the ngangtse-tso; its bark before his hut in leh would remind him of the time when the dog kept watch at our camp-fires. shukkur ali kept another dog from the same country. now i had only the brown puppy, which, with robert and the mule from poonch, were among the oldest veterans of the caravan, all three having accompanied me from srinagar. and then came the bitter moment of parting. so much grief, such loud weeping! they could hardly tear themselves away. the _tesildar_ was quite overcome at witnessing the deep attachment of my simple followers. the bonds were strong that were now torn asunder, for there is nothing which knits men together so firmly as common sufferings and dangers. i myself felt a catch in my throat, and, as the men reluctantly followed their yaks down the road to drugub, i stood and watched them until they were out of sight. then i dried my eyes before going into my tent, where robert and the _tesildar_ were waiting for me with tea and cakes served up by rub das. i could not help thinking of a funeral repast after an interment, at which a wreath of violets had been laid on the grave of a departed friend. next morning i awoke to new surroundings. all my old companions were scattered to the four winds, and now they were gone all seemed empty and deserted. robert read off the meteorological instruments as usual, and rub das laid my breakfast as noiselessly as an elf. i was glad that in spite of everything i felt not the slightest irresolution. the same angel who had protected me on my former journey would again attend my steps. i seemed to hear once more in the distance the rustle of his wings in the cold winter nights on the chang-tang. chapter lv a new chapter as soon as we were ready we mounted our horses and rode down to drugub. soon the old village came in sight with the house in which i had dwelt six years before, and the garden in which we had halted in the year . on a terrace below the village stood our three tents and a fourth. the _jamadar_ ishe, old hiraman, who never omitted to greet me, and young anmar ju, another of my old friends, salaamed and presented to me my new men. these three had orders from the _tesildar_ to accompany me to shyok. "who is the caravan bashi?" i asked. "i am," answered a little wrinkled old man called abdul kerim, and wearing a large yellow skin-coat (illust. ). "what are the names of the others?" "kutus, gulam, suen, abdul rasak, sedik, lobsang, kunchuk, gaffar, abdullah, and sonam kunchuk." "you are then eleven men altogether--three lamaists and eight mohammedans?" "yes, sahib." "i shall at some future time take down your names, ages, places of abode, the journeys you have made, the services you have been in, etc." it turned out that very few of them had ever been in the service of a european, but all had been employed by nazer shah, and his son gulam razul answered for them. four had been in lhasa, and almost all the mohammedans in yarkand, and all seemed pleasant and cheerful, and were in the prime of life. [illustration: . abdul kerim, the new caravan leader.] "which of you is my cook?" "i am," answered gulam, a comical little fellow, who immediately received a lecture from rub das how i was to be attended on (illust. ). "are you all ladakis?" "yes, sahib, all except lobsang, who is a tibetan from gar-gunsa, but has married in leh and has served with the hajji nazer shah." i was somewhat loath to take a tibetan with me on a journey where it was essential to keep the tibetans as long as possible in the dark. if danger threatened, how easily he could betray me to his countrymen! i considered whether i would not exchange him for another man, or simply leave him behind. but how often had i reason subsequently to rejoice that i had not given effect to the suggestion! with the exception of the four russian cossacks and robert, lobsang was the best servant who ever accompanied me on my journeys through the wilds of asia. he was a splendid man, and i cherish a warm recollection of him (illust. ). all were now welcomed into my service, and i expressed the hope that they would perform their duty as faithfully as their predecessors, promised them an extra donation of rupees each if i were contented with them, and told them that i would pay the expenses of their return home from the point where our journey ended, just as i had done before. when it was known in leh that i wanted fresh servants for the journey to khotan, guffaru and all the men i had sent home from tokchen presented themselves and begged earnestly to be restored to my service. but the old hajji had received strict directions from his son. not one of my old servants might accompany me this time, for it would increase the danger if we met tibetans with whom we were already acquainted. the new horses seemed fine and strong, and stood, eating hay and barley, in a long row along a wall, beside the mules and the veterans from leh. they were to be well fed, for the days of feasting would soon be over, and it would be well if they put on flesh, on which they could fall back in evil days. all the goods ordered were of the best quality, and packed in new strong boxes covered with leather (illust. ). on the morning of november , , three tibetans came from rudok-dzong and set up their tents on our left wing. there, i thought, now espionage is beginning. an hour later we heard the sound of bells up in the valley. the noise became louder and louder between the cliffs, and a great din was raised as thirty-four fine little mules with loads of salt passed by my tent. all had a chain of small bells round their necks, most of them were adorned with red and blue ribands, and some had large red tassels hanging at their chests, which almost touched the ground and swung about at every step. it was a bright and lively scene, and the jingle of bells allured me out to fresh adventures in distant regions. in the twinkling of an eye the animals were relieved of their loads and driven up the valley like a herd of wild asses, to graze on the scanty grass among the granite. the owners must then be traders. they afterwards came into my tent, took tea and cigarettes, and asked abdul kerim whither we were travelling. he answered without lying, "to khotan." it was i who lied. but had i told the truth, i should have been stopped in fourteen days, and might as well have gone home at once. we had three new tents. the two larger accommodated my eleven servants; the smallest, which was so small that one could only stand upright under the ridge-pole, and could only hold a bed and two boxes, was mine. i wished to have one as small as possible that it might more easily be kept warm. all my baggage was re-packed. i gave some superfluous articles to robert and to the rev. mr. peter in leh. there was a very thorough sorting out, and only what was absolutely indispensable was packed, filling two boxes, one of which chiefly contained swedish and english books, sent by my sister alma and colonel dunlop smith. as soon as they were read, they would be offered to the winds. when i moved at night into my new tent and laid myself to rest in the large sleeping-bag lined with sheep's wool, and covered myself, i was as warm and comfortable as in a bed at home. [illustration: . lobsang; . gulam; . kutus--my last trusty followers.] gulam razul's son, abdul hai, visited me, and our business matters were transacted with him. robert remained responsible for my heavy baggage until he had deposited it in the house of the hajji nazer shah. it consisted of ten regulation horse-loads. in my leisure hours i wrote a heap of letters, which robert was to hand in at the post-office in leh. we had now mules and horses, the brown puppy, and a large yellow dog from gartok. all the mules and horses, except mine and abdul kerim's saddle-horses, carried loads (illusts. , , ). i rode my little white ladaki, which had grown marvellously strong again, and was as spirited as one of the new horses. he and two others were the survivors of the large caravan which had, on the former occasion, set out from leh. in order to make sure that abdul kerim took sufficient provender, i told him he must not think that i would follow the direct road like ordinary caravans. i might make excursions right and left, and often remain stationary for a week at a time. he must, therefore, provide barley for the animals for two-and-a-half months, and he must take care that the provender we took with us lasted out. but it is stupid to trust to others. all the heavy baggage from simla, the silver money, and the tinned provisions made four loads; gulam's chests of kitchen utensils, two; the tent, the bedding, and the belongings of the men made several loads; all the other animals were to be laden with rice, barley, and _tsamba_. we also took sheep from tankse. in the night of december the thermometer fell to - . °. next morning all the baggage was packed up and carried down the valley to shyok by coolies. two fellows, as strong as bears, carried my two tent-boxes. the animals carried only their new saddles. one group after another marched off, and at last i remained alone. then i shook hands with my faithful companion, robert, thanked him for his invaluable services, his honesty, his courage, and his patience; asked him to greet for me the missionaries, dr. neve, and warm india; took leave also of honest rub das and all the others; mounted into my new ladak saddle on my trusty white, and rode down to the shyok valley with anmar ju. i was the last remaining of the original caravan, and was surrounded by men who were complete strangers to me. but i was also strange to them, and they had no suspicion of the foolhardy adventures i intended to lead them into. the wind, however, was the same, and the same stars would twinkle in the sky during the cold silent nights in tibet. so i should not be quite alone. it is little more than miles to shyok, and yet this short distance took almost eight hours. we had to cross the river six times, which just below the village of drugub has cut a deep narrow passage between rocks of granite and gneiss. the first crossing was easy, for there the river had been frozen over in the night, and though the ice cracked, we passed over by a path strewn with sand. at the second passage the river was open, but broad and shallow, and the ice belts on both sides had been strewn with sand. the third, where we had to cross over again to the right bank, was very awkward, because ice belts suddenly ending in the middle were flooded in consequence of a damming up of the ice lower down. they could not therefore be strewn with sand, and we had to be careful lest we should fall out of the saddle when the horses set their feet down in the water feet deep. it is little more agreeable when he jumps up on the opposite edge, and his hoofs slide about before he can get a firm foothold on the smooth ice. below this place was the fourth crossing--the worst of all--and here the whole train had come to a halt. on the right bank, where we stood, the river was broad and deep, with icy cold, dark-blue, transparent water winding down, but at the left bank lay a broad belt of ice. suen, a tall, black-bearded man with very jewish features, bared his body and examined the ford on horseback. in so doing he got into water so deep that his horse began to swim. then he jumped in himself and swam to the edge of the ice, where it cost him great effort to climb up. poor man! i shivered as i looked at him; he had been quite under water. [illustration: . beggars.] [illustration: . abdul kerim's new tent.] four of the others made an attempt a little higher up, and got over, but they were up to their necks in water. then the whole troop of mules and horses were driven into the river; the horses managed best. one mule, i felt sure, would be lost. he made no attempt to hoist himself on to the ice until he had been pelted with stones from our bank. and when at length he was up and was following the track of the others, the ice cracked and gave way under him, and there he lay enclosed. all five men had to pull him out and drag him over the ice to solid ground. barely yards farther down is the fifth ford. between the two stands a steep, smooth, projecting rock, its foot washed by the river. it is, however, possible to climb over the rock up small fissures and over slight projections and thus avoid the two detestable fords. here all the baggage was carried over by the coolies, and i myself climbed over the rocks barefooted; a short way beyond this crag a strong man carried me over smooth flooded ice. here we had plenty of time for meditation, while the animals were again driven through such deep water that they almost had to swim. all were wet up to the root of the tail and many had water over their backs. the poor creatures stood together closely in a group, with pieces of ice hanging from their flanks and knocking together like castanets. we kindled a fire that the five men who had been in the water might undress, dry themselves, and change every stitch of clothing. then we went some distance downstream to a place where the heavy provisions were piled up on the bank, and the poor animals had to enter the icy water before they had got warm again. here the baggage had to be carried over the river by stark-naked men, who tried with staves in their hands to keep their equilibrium among the treacherous rounded stones in the river bed. an elderly man was seized with cramp when he was half-way across, and could not move a step. two bold youths jumped into the water and dragged him to land. two mules, which could not be induced by coaxing or scolding to enter the water, were tugged over with a rope. i had a guide before my horse, which was wet half-way up the saddle, so that i had to tuck up my legs as high as possible, and in this position it was very difficult to keep my balance, as the horse made unexpected jumps among the blocks. the men raised such a loud hurrah that the mountains rang again when i was over the last ford with a whole skin; a blazing fire prevented any ill effects from my foot-bath. every man, who came across shivering, dripping, and blue with cold, had to sit down immediately by the fire. i could not understand why they were not frozen to death. then we rode in the twilight up and down hill, and it was pitch dark before a welcome blazing fire showed us that we were near the village of shyok. we gathered round it as we came up, and delighted in its radiating heat. i could not help consoling myself with the thought that, if any pursuers followed me up from the english side, they would at any rate get a cold bath before they found me. in the night the temperature fell to only . °, but here we were at a height of only , feet. we stayed on december in shyok, to dry the pack-saddles and give the animals a day's rest after their trying work. in the evening the men held a farewell festival, for shyok was the last village in ladak. as soon as the drums and flutes were heard, all the women and girls of the country flocked to the dance. on december we took leave of our last friends, and marched down the slopes to the floor of the shyok valley, where the altitude is , feet; it was the lowest spot we were in for a long time (illust. .) for from here we mounted northwards up the valley excavated by the great affluent of the indus. there is no road or path to speak of, only rubbish and rounded boulders, but the scenery is wonderfully fine, and gigantic granite crags tower up on all sides. we crossed the river five times, which here carries about cubic feet of water and has belts of ice of varying breadth. a solitary starved wanderer from yarkand met us, and was given a meal of _tsamba_. we pitched our camp among the bushes in a bed of sand at chong-yangal, where i had stayed in the year . we were now alone. only one man not belonging to the caravan was still with us, tubges of shyok, who had charge of our sheep during the early days of our journey, especially at the fords. in the evening i had a conversation with abdul kerim, kutus, and gulam. i now told them that i would not travel to khotan by the ordinary road, because i knew it already. we would strike more to the east, and the sooner we came up on to the plateau the better. they replied that tubges knew the country well. he was called in to the consultation. what if we went through the chang-chenmo valley to pamzal and the lanak-la? "no," he answered, "that is impossible; one can go as far as oro-rotse, but there the valley becomes as narrow as a corridor, and ice cascades and boulders cover the bottom of the valley. animals cannot get through even without loads." it was then evident that we must continue up the shyok valley and watch for an opportunity of diverging eastwards. so on the th we went on between grand mountain gables, silent and solemn, like egyptian pyramids, like cathedrals and fortress towers. between them detritus cones descend to the valley floor, where their bases are eroded by the high water of the summer flood and cut off in perpendicular walls. it must be a magnificent spectacle when the turbid thundering water rolls down from the melting snow of the karakorum and fills all the valley, making its way with tremendous force to the indus. an enormous block of perhaps , cubic feet has fallen down; it has cracked in falling, as though a giant had split it with his axe; one fancies one can see the gap it has left on the heights above. four times the path crosses the stream, and the rather narrow opening of the chang-chenmo valley is left on the right. we encamped among the dunes of kaptar-khane. in the night the temperature fell to . °. the way is terribly trying, nothing but detritus and blocks of grey granite, against which the horses wear out their shoes. again we crossed the river twice and set up our tents in the oasis dung-yeilak, where a worn-out caravan from khotan had already settled, and had sent a messenger to nubra for help, as several of their horses had foundered. as long as there was pasturage we could take matters quietly and make short marches. only too soon the grass would come to an end, and then we must make more haste. so we rested a day when the merchant muhamed rehim from khotan arrived at the oasis with his caravan. but he only remained an hour, for he wanted to reach warmer regions, and was glad to have the karakorum pass behind him. he earnestly advised me to wait till spring, for the snow lay deeper than usual on the pass. one of his caravan men also came to me and gave me a handful of dried peaches. "does the sahib remember me?" he asked. "certainly, you are mollah shah." the good fellow, now fifty-seven years old, and with his beard greyer, had never visited his home in cherchen again since he had left my service in the spring of . what a singular wandering life, full of toil and adventure, these asiatics lead! he implored me to engage him again, but i told him he ought to be glad to go down into ladak instead of returning to the frightful pass in the middle of the icy winter. it would certainly have been pleasant to have with me an old tried companion. but no, he would have been out of place in my ladaki company. mollah shah told us for our encouragement that a large caravan had lost fifty-two horses on the pass, and had been obliged to leave behind the greater part of their goods. none of my people knew yet my actual plans. as long as we were on the great winter route to eastern turkestan they must all believe that khotan was my destination. we had also the advantage that all who met us would report in ladak that they had seen us on the great highway, and thus no suspicion would be aroused. [illustration: . my brown puppy with my cook, tsering. , , . my white ladaki horse.] december . it was colder, the minimum temperature being - . °. my curzon hat was burned in the fire. in its place i put on a large skin-cap which muhamed isa had sewed together, and wound round it a pugree as a protection against the sun. arms of the river with a gentle current were covered with glittering ice, but the main stream, now much smaller, was nearly free. at the camp at charvak a spring brook dashed down the rocks in a tinkling cascade, though the cold did all it could to silence it. the animals were driven up the slopes where the grass was better. a huge fire was lighted when the day declined, and a narrow sickle of a moon stood in the sky. where the animals were driven up, there was a thundering fall of stones in the night, and some blocks rolled down and lay among our tents. it was a dangerous place. we had a cold march on the way to yulgunluk. when thick snow-clouds cover the sky, the wind blows in the traveller's face, and the temperature at one o'clock is . °, one feels the cold dreadfully, and has to tie a thick neck-cloth over the face. the valley is lifeless and deserted. hitherto we had only seen a hare, an eagle, and a raven; the last followed us from camp to camp. six times we crossed the stream; the brown puppy was carried over, but the yellow dog found his way across--he howled piteously whenever he had to go into the cold water. in yulgunluk also, at a height of , feet, we encamped a day. now the thermometer fell in the night to - . °. this was the last really pleasant and agreeable oasis we came across. during the day of rest we heard the horses neighing with satisfaction on the pastures and the sheep bleating. the loads of provender were already smaller, so we could load four horses with good knotty firewood. on the right side of the valley rose a snowy mountain. as early as two o'clock the sun disappeared, but it lighted up the snow long after the valley lay in deep shadow; the sky was blue and cloudless. in the evening the men sang at the fire just the same melodies as their predecessors. the winter days are short, but they seem endlessly long to one tortured by the uncertainty of his cherished hopes. by eight o'clock the camp is quiet, and at nine gulam brings in the last brazier after i have read the meteorological instruments. how i long to get out of this confined valley on to the plateau country! here we are marching north-north-west, and i ought to be going east and south-east. if we could find a way up to the chang-tang by one of the valleys to the east, we should be saved much time and many a weary step. on december we looked in vain for such a way. we crossed the river twice more on its ice-sheet. at the second ford the whole caravan passed over dry-shod, and only my small white horse broke through and i wet my feet. after a third crossing we camped in a desolate spot just opposite the shialung valley. it looked promising. tubges and kutus were sent up the valley to spy out the land. in the evening they returned with the tidings that we could go a fairly long distance up the valley, but beyond it became impassable owing to deep basins, abundant ice, and large boulders, just as in the drugub river. we must therefore keep on the route to the karakorum pass. this increased the risks for the caravan, for it lengthened the distance; but, on the other hand, it lessened the danger of discovery, for when once we had got into tibet we could avoid the most northern nomads. now tubges begged permission to accompany me to the end, and his petition was eagerly supported by all the other men. i was the more willing to take him that he was a skilled hunter. i had now twelve men, and i made the thirteenth in the caravan. but we were not superstitious. chapter lvi up to the heights of dapsang heavy clouds and piercingly cold wind increased the difficulty of our march on december up the valley. we saw two bales of goods, sewed up in linen and with the stamp of a turkestan firm, lying on the ground, as though they had fallen from a dying horse, the carcase of which we had passed. higher up two more. they contained silken materials from khotan. so far the caravans come with failing strength after excessive exertions on the pass. they are like ships which must throw their cargo overboard when they begin to sink. at köteklik also we found passable grass and firewood. gulam is a capital cook; he prepares me the most delicate cutlets and rissoles, and for a change gives me chickens and eggs. on the th there is little water in the valley; it runs under rubbish, but farther up the river is again fresh and clear. we frequently pass the remains of unfortunate caravans--dead horses, bales of goods, and pack-saddles from which the hay has been removed to save the life of a dying horse. we travel west-north-westwards, and therefore ever farther from our goal. but at length we come to a valley which will lead us in the right direction. we leave the sasser valley to the left and enter a valley portal full of treacherous ice, often as thin as skin. we wait till our scouts have tried the ice, which they declare to be impassable. tubges, however, finds another, longer way, over steep hills, and at their foot we pitch our camp. next morning we went over a steep spur of porphyry to reach a better place on the frozen river which was to afford us an easterly passage up to murgu. we crossed again and again the strip of ice, which was first strewn with sand that the horses might not break their legs. as usual, two scouts went in advance. one of them came back and called to us from a distance that a fallen rock closed up the valley. on reaching the spot i found that a landslip had lately taken place. the blocks of porphyry barring the channel were as big as houses, and between them the river formed deep basins covered with a thin coat of ice. we had therefore to turn back and retrace our steps all the way down to camp no. , over the terrible rock, which on this side was so steep that each animal had to be shoved up separately, and the men had to look out for themselves when a pack got loose and rolled down the acclivity. then we went some distance up the sasser valley. a strong icy wind blew in our faces. beside a wall of rock the dogs put up a hare which took refuge in a hole, but kunchuk pulled him out again and he was condemned to be eaten. our camp this time was in an almost barren place, and after all the fording of the river during the day icicles clinked on the flanks of our wearied animals. it is evening again. the mountain spurs project, dark and rugged, into the valley like huge sarcophagi, and on them rest moon-lighted snowfields like shrouds. the ladakis sing no more; their ditties are frozen on their lips. it is awfully quiet. the kitchen fire flickers with yellowish-red tongues in the white moonshine. one can almost hear the sound of the frost outside. [illustration: . panorama from camp , bongba.] [illustration: . panorama from camp , shyok valley. sketches by the author.] after gulam has brought in the last brazier i undress myself, put on my large woollen dressing-gown, set myself a while right over the fire to get a little heat into my body before i creep into my lair of fur, and smile to hear the yellow dog, who is lying outside, and barks and snarls at the increasing cold in the angriest and most comical tones. no wonder he is enraged, for the thermometer falls in the night to - . °. then i hear a singular squeaking in gulam's tent. we had already anticipated a happy event, and now i inquired whether there was an addition to the puppy family. four small puppies had again come into the world. they had waited for the very coldest night we had yet experienced. gulam had contrived a cage of frieze rugs in which puppy lay, licking her young ones. two of the tiny animals were of the female, two of the male sex; the former were drowned, for we thought that the others would grow stronger if they monopolized all the milk and heat that would otherwise have been divided among four. i sat by the hutch and studied the interesting group till i was so stiff with cold that i could hardly walk back to my tent. next morning the tiny curs were going on splendidly; one of them whined in quite the orthodox fashion, and no doubt thought what a grim cold country fate had launched him into. we determined to take good care of them, for they would be pleasant companions for me. up here they would at any rate be immune from the sickness which had carried off their elder sisters. kunchuk had to carry them against his bare skin to keep them warm. half-way mamma puppy was allowed to occupy herself for a while with her little ones, though these did not seem quite to understand the milk business. we had a bad march on december . no shouts of encouragement were heard, but the caravan moved on slowly and apathetically. within half an hour our feet were benumbed and lost all feeling. i wound the ends of my _bashlik_ like a visor several times round my face up to the eyes, but the breath turned it into a thick crust of ice which froze to my moustache and beard, which i had allowed to grow since leaving gartok to suit my intended mohammedan disguise. all the men put on their furs. dust and soil flew about, and our faces had a singular appearance. at a place where a yarkand caravan was encamped, we turned to the right up a very narrow valley, in which the floor, covered with bright milky-white ice, looked like a marble pavement between the rocky walls. fortunately the yarkand men had strewn sand over the ice, but still it did not prevent several of our animals from falling, so that they had to be loaded again. when we at length camped in long the temperature was at zero even at three o'clock. a second large yarkand caravan, on the homeward journey, was halting here. the leaders asked us to travel with them over the karakorum, but i refused, with the excuse that we could make only short day's marches. observation by any who might tell the chinese in yarkand that i had again passed over into tibet was exactly what i must avoid above everything. here lay a poor man, both of whose feet had been frost-bitten on the karakorum, so that the flesh and toes actually fell off. he crawled up to our camp and wept over his disastrous fate. he had been engaged with the yarkand caravan we had met first, but as he had become incapable of work owing to his wounds, the barbarous merchant had dismissed him in the midst of the wilds and left him behind. in such a case it is hard to know what to do. we could not cure him, and to take him with us or give up a part of the caravan for him was out of the question. he said himself that he would crawl to shyok, but how was he to get across the river? i let him warm himself at our fire, drink tea and eat, and on the th, when we went on after ½° of frost in the night, i gave him _tsamba_ for several days, matches, and a sum of money which would enable him to hire a horse from a caravan travelling to shyok. this day's march took us eastwards to a place called bulak (the spring); it should properly have been called guristan (the graveyard), for here lay at least twenty dead horses. during a ride of two hours i had counted sixty-three carcases of horses; it is wonderful that trade on this caravan route, the highest in the world, can be profitable. from there the route ran up the narrow fissured murgu valley, at first up and down over hills, where numbers of dead horses, which had once been strong and fat, showed us the way. then we descended a break-neck path into the deep valley, where spring water at the bottom formed cracked domes of ice. then on the slopes of the left flank we climbed again up a zigzag path; the snow became deeper and was piled up, especially on the path, so smooth that if the horses had made a false step we should have been lost beyond recovery. the landscape was magnificent, but it could not be properly enjoyed when the temperature about one o'clock was only . °. and then again we went down headlong to the valley bottom, where we passed over a natural bridge of rock improved by the hand of man. our direction had been east, but now we diverged more and more to the north and north-west. the snow becomes deeper, the sun sinks, the shadows creep up the reddish-yellow hills, the wind is stronger, and one thinks: if this lasts much longer i shall freeze. at last we halt at the foot of a terrace on the right side of the valley, where the sheep are driven into a cave to keep them warm in the night. i slip down from the saddle with all my limbs numbed, and long for a fire. not a trace of organic life was to be seen at camp no. . the horses and mules were tethered so that they stood in a close pack. at this unlucky camp i made the first discovery on this new journey through tibet. abdul kerim came to me at the fire and said: "sahib, we have barley for eight to ten days more; but in that time we shall reach shahidulla, where we can get everything." "eight to ten days! are you mad? did you not obey my orders? did i not tell you expressly to take barley for ½ months?" "i brought a supply with me which was enough for the journey to khotan." "did i not tell you that i was not going to khotan by the ordinary route, but by roundabout ways which would demand at least two months?" "yes, sahib, i have acted wrongly," answered the old man, and began to sob. abdul kerim was an honest man, but he was stupid, and he had not the great experience of muhamed isa. "you are caravan bashi, and the duty of a caravan leader is to see that there is sufficient provender for the journey. when the ten days are over, our animals will starve. what do you mean to do then?" "sahib, send me with some animals to shahidulla. i can be back again in a fortnight." "you know that everything that happens in shahidulla is reported to the amban of khotan. the chinese must know nothing of our intentions." my first notion was to dismiss abdul kerim at once and to write to the hajji nazer shah for more provender, which might be brought up on hired animals. but what would they think in western tibet and ladak if i sent for more provender from leh when i was barely eight days' journey from shahidulla, which lies on the direct road to khotan? my whole plan would be betrayed and must fail. i should be stopped by the first nomads, perhaps by the english whom i had so happily escaped hitherto. it was only necessary to forbid the natives to supply me with provisions and baggage animals. and if i procured all we wanted in shahidulla, the amban of khotan would send word to kashgar, whence a telegraph line runs through asia to pekin, where his excellency na tang proved so absolutely immovable when the swedish minister wallenberg had given himself so much trouble to obtain for me permission for a new journey through tibet. up here in this desolate valley my position was strong. we had sneaked quietly and cautiously through british territory without exciting suspicion. but as soon as we came into contact with the outer world we should be caught. i sat in my tent all the evening, considering the matter from all sides, and measured the distances on my map with compasses. we were about miles from my camp no. of the preceding year, where the grass was so good. so far we could travel without the least difficulty. but beyond we had miles more, to the district on the tong-tso. however, before we came there we must meet with nomads and grazing land. the horses, indeed, would be lost, but the tibetan mules were, so gulam razul said, accustomed to shift for themselves, and they were not given barley. the first step was to reach the free open chang-tang and get out of this frightful mousetrap, the shyok valley, which was always taking us further north-north-west. even if we had to sacrifice everything and creep on all fours to the nearest tent, i would not give in: i would not depart a hair's breadth from the original plan. night came with a clear sky, twinkling stars and sharp frost; by nine o'clock the temperature was down to - . °. the animals stood quietly crowded together to keep themselves warm. when i awoke occasionally i did not hear them, and they might have vanished. the minimum was reached at - . °. when i was awakened, kutus had been out on the prowl into a broad valley, coming in from the east, and had found a road which, as far as he could see, was excellent. we had still two days' journey from camp no. to the dreaded karakorum pass, which i wished to avoid. if we ascended the side valley eastwards, we should soon arrive at the main crest of the karakorum range and be spared two days' journey. i resolved to try it. so we travelled on december to the east-north-east over crunching snow. the valley looked very promising, especially as old horse tracks could be seen in some places. in the middle of the valley was the bed of a brook covered over with smooth, treacherous ice, but elsewhere there was nothing but detritus. after we had passed a hill thickly overgrown with _burtse_ tufts, all vegetation ceased. at one o'clock the temperature was - . °. my beard was white with rime, my face-cloth turned into a mass of ice, and all the animals were white. for hours we slowly mounted upwards. in some places the valley was so contracted that it was only yards broad. the best of the day was over when the caravan suddenly came to a halt. all was quiet in the front, and i waited with kutus for whatever was to happen. after a time came abdul kerim, much cast down, with the news that the valley was impassable at two places. i went to look. the first barrier of rocks might be forced, but the second was worse. we could certainly have dragged the baggage over the ice between and under the blocks, but there was no passage for the animals. should we try to make a road along which the animals could be helped over the blocks by the united strength of the men? yes; but first men must be sent up to find out whether there were more of such barriers to cross. when they came back with the news that the way was still worse above, i gave orders to pitch the camp, as the shades of evening were falling. good heavens, what a camp! not a blade of grass, not a drop of water! again we sat in a mousetrap between steep mountain walls, where, at any moment, devastating blocks might be detached from the sides by the frost. the horses scraped about in the snow looking for grass. during the night they roamed about, and stumbled over the tent ropes. the thermometer fell to - . °. one puppy lost his way, got outside, and came of his own accord into my tent; fortunately for him i was awakened by his whining, and gave him shelter in my bed, where he was warm and comfortable. a frosty morning! we must take care not to touch metal, for it burns like fire. a mule made his way into my tent and looked for something edible in my washing-basin. to his great astonishment it stuck to his nose, and he took it a few steps with him. the hungry animals had consumed two empty sacks and six ropes during the night, and played the mischief with one another's tails. in winter, life up here is a desperate struggle with the frost. the orders for the day were to encamp in a place where there were stalks of _yapchan_ and _burtse_, and remain there all the next day. i set out at a temperature of - . ° and found the camp all ready on the right side of the valley. the animals were immediately sent up the slopes, and there grazed with a good appetite on the dry frozen stalks. during the day of rest, pieces of ice were hewn out of the brook and melted in the two large kettles of the men. horses and mules were then able to drink their fill. in the night a most welcome change took place in the weather, the whole sky was overcast, and the thermometer fell only to °; it felt quite warm in the morning. some mules had stampeded, but lobsang found them after a diligent search. i set out with kutus soon after the caravan. we had not gone far when we saw muhamed isa's white shigatse horse lying frozen stiff in the snow. he had been in a wretched state for some days, and the last hardships had been too much for him. worn-out and emaciated he really needed a long, long rest. after a while we passed the valley junction and the unlucky camp no. , and were again on the great caravan route, the road of dead horses. four lay in a ravine quite close together, as though they did not wish to part even in death. a large dapple-grey showed no change, but another horse looked as if it were stuffed, and a third, with its outstretched legs, resembled an overturned gymnasium horse. some were nearly covered with snow, and others had fallen in a curious cramped position, but most of them lay as though death had surprised them when they were composing themselves to rest after violent exertion. nearly all were hollow: the hide was stretched over the backbone and ribs, and they looked intact from the back, but on the other side it could be seen that they were only empty, dry skeletons, hard as iron, which rattled when the yellow dog, who had nothing else to eat on the way, pulled them about. the dogs barked at the first carcases, but soon they became familiar with the sight of them. what sufferings and what desperate struggles for life these dreary mountains must have witnessed in the course of time! lying awake at night one fancies one hears the sighs of worn-out pack animals and their laboured breathing as they patiently go towards their end, and sees an endless parade of veterans condemned to die who can endure no more in the service of cruel man. when the dogs bark outside in the silent night they seem to bark at ghosts and apparitions who try with hesitating steps to make their way out of the snowfields that hold them fast, and intervene between them and the juicy meadows of ladak. if any road in the world deserves the name "via dolorosa," it is the caravan road over the karakorum pass connecting eastern turkestan with india. like an enormous bridge of sighs it spans with its airy arches the highest mountain-land of asia and of the world. higher and higher our slow train ascends the fissured valley where here and there small glacier tongues peep out between the steep crags. frequently old camping-places are seen with ripped-up pack-saddles. hurricanes from the south prevail here; fine red dust from weathered sandstone flies like clouds of blood through the valley and colours the snowfields red. the valley shrinks to a hollow way where a somewhat more sheltered spot bears the name "daulet bek ulldi" (where daulet bek died). who was he? no one knows; but the name has remained. probably an ordinary trader from khotan or yarkand, or a pilgrim who died on his wanderings, and therefore found the doors of paradise wide open. for over the karakorum pass runs the main pilgrim route from eastern turkestan to mecca. the valley becomes ever smaller--a mere corridor between walls of red conglomerate. this is the kizil-unkur, or the red hole, an appropriate name. here the caravan has pitched its camp. not a sign of organic life. the animals stand in a group, and the mules gnaw at the frozen dung of former visitors. from this hole the way rises up to the dapsang plateau, where a snowstorm is now raging, and even in the valley flakes of snow dance and whirl in the air. in the twilight tundup sonam comes up with only twelve sheep; the others have been frozen to death on the way. night falls threatening and awful on the everlasting snow. everything up here is so dreary and cold ( , feet); there is nothing living far and wide, and yet the yellow dog fills the ravine with his barking. the men set up the tents near together, and a very scanty fire burned among them, for we had to be economical with the firewood from köteklik. the mohammedans started a low charming song in rising and falling tones, and now and then a strong voice intoned a hollow "allahu ekber." when gulam came with the brazier i asked him what it meant, and he said that it was a _namas_ or hymn of prayer to allah, that the most high might protect us in the morning from the snowstorm. for if a caravan is caught in a snowstorm on the heights of dapsang it is lost. i often heard this melodious hymn again in days of hardship, and it always affected me painfully. not as the reproachful warning clang of church bells ringing for service, when i pass a church door without going in, but because the men sang the hymn only when they were out of spirits and considered our position desperate. it seemed as though they would remind me that defeat awaited me, and that this time i had aimed too high. chapter lvii on the roof of the world on christmas eve i had dined with mr. and mrs. grant duff in the hospitable english embassy, and on another day supped with count d'apchier in the french legation, and was invited to a reception by count rex in the german embassy,--all in teheran, now in such a disturbed state. the same day twelve months later i had still muhamed isa and robert with me, and we were in inhabited country. little i dreamt now that old asia would demand still another christmas eve in my life, and that on december , , i should sit at table amid a circle of pleasant and intelligent japanese in distant mukden, where a few years before the thunders of war had rolled above the graves of the manchurian emperors. but this year, , i was quite alone, and with twelve satellites on the way to my--ukraine. in the morning with a bright sun and calm weather the caravan marched slowly up towards the heights of dapsang, while kutus and i followed in the crunching snow. i had given abdul kerim orders to wait at the top. after i had read the instruments and found a height of , feet, i scoured the horizon with my field-glass--a confusion of snowy mountains. only to the north-east a broad erosion furrow sloped gently down, and i chose that direction. "now we leave the karakorum route and ride eastwards," i said; "follow my track; i will ride in front." the men stared in astonishment; they had looked forward to the gardens and vineyards of khotan, and i offered them the granite and snowstorms of chang-tang. they said nothing, however, but silently and patiently followed in my footsteps. it was not easy to lead the way, for the country was covered with deep snow. i directed kutus, and he went before my horse to test the depth. the ground was quite level, but contained hollows where the snow lay to feet deep; and the crust was exceedingly treacherous, for sometimes it broke, and i was thrown out of the saddle, while the horse plunged and floundered like a dolphin, and was almost suffocated in the fine dry snow. we therefore turned back to try another direction. lobsang, who was always on the alert when we were in a critical situation, was already looking for a better way. but we must in any case cross the valley, and the men tramped out a furrow in the snow, through which the animals were led one at a time. the horses managed best, while the mules often fell and caused long delays. how far would this snow extend? it checked our progress and concealed any wretched pasture that might exist in some ravine. we crawled on like snails. i went on foot, and my skin coat felt as heavy as lead. but after several hours of hard toil we reached the terrace skirting the right side of the valley, where the snow was thinner and we made more progress. camp no. was in the most desolate spot i can remember in all my travels, except the sandy sea of the takla-makan desert. behind us our trail wound through the white snow and in front all was snow. the animals were tethered close together, and they had a feed of corn in the evening. after the day's work was over i lighted two candles--usually i had but one--and set up the portraits of my family on a box, as i had often done before on christmas eves in asia. at half-past eight o'clock the moon rose gloriously over the mountains to the east-north-east, and at nine the thermometer had sunk to - . °. i could not get the temperature above - ° in my tent, and my hands were so benumbed that i could not hold a book, but had to crawl into bed, which was the best thing to do--there one forgets christmas with all its precious memories and its melancholy solitude. the thermometer sank to - . °. a horse lay frozen hard in his place in the line; the others stood stupefied, with drooping heads, and great icicles on their noses. christmas eve brought us good weather. i almost longed for a snowstorm. we had no fear of pursuit, but if a turkestan caravan now went down to kizil-unkur, the men would see our trail in the snow and report that we were off to tibet. a snowstorm would obliterate all traces. meanwhile we stumbled on eastwards through the snow. a spring supplied water where all the animals got a drink. we halted in a ravine with tufts of _yapchan_ ( , feet). the animals made greedily for the dry hard stalks, which also provided us with a grand fire, and this evening it was warm and comfortable in my tent. i rejoiced to think that the days would again become longer, and subtracted the length of each day's march from the distance between us and the tong-tso. ah, would we were there! and there we should be only on the northern margin of the blank space. what an immensely long way we had to travel! next day we followed the same flat valley eastwards between mountains of moderate height, making use of a path worn down by pantholops antelopes. the snow became less deep and was only occasionally troublesome, usually covered with a crust as dry as parchment. when we had encamped in a perfectly barren spot, i consulted with abdul kerim. only two sacks of barley were left. i saw that he had been weeping, and therefore i restrained my wrath. the others, too, were astonished and doleful. i had not yet said anything to them, but they understood that there was no question of khotan. the men had _tsamba_ for nearly three months and rice for two. i therefore ordered that some should be given to the horses when the barley was finished, but enough should be left for the men to last two months. the others gathered outside the tent during the consultation. lobsang was calm and unconcerned, and could be heard singing and whistling as he watched the animals. i took to him most, perhaps because he was a tibetan; but i liked them all, for they were capital fellows. in the evening they sang hymns to allah, knowing that our situation was exceedingly critical. next day we started early, and i rode at the head of the caravan. we all had severe headaches, but the height was enormous ( , feet). we had marched little more than a mile when we found sparse grass in a slight hollow on the northern slopes. that was a christmas box. here we pitched our camp. the animals ran up to the pasture with their loads on. how they ate! it was a pleasure to see them. suen cut ridiculous capers between the tents. the men were in high spirits. i heard no more hymns to allah, but the caravan bashi, who seemed to think he was in some degree responsible for the spiritual welfare of all the mohammedans, usually read every evening at sunset one of the five daily prayers. our supply of fuel was at an end, but lobsang found a hard moss which burned for a long time and gave out plenty of heat. now i perceived that when we should some time part, i should miss lobsang most. on december , leaden clouds lay over the earth, and therefore the cold was less severe. we continued our course eastwards, and marched slowly till we came to a spring, which at the orifice had a temperature of . °. the water felt quite warm; it formed large cakes of ice in the flat valley, which looked from a distance like a lake. while the men set up the tents here, puppy, as usual, took charge of her young ones in a folded piece of felt. one of them had a white spot on the forehead and was my especial favourite, for he never whined unnecessarily. to-day he had opened his eyes and given a short glance at the cold inhospitable world around him. however, before my tent was ready, he died quite suddenly, and was buried under some stones that the yellow dog might not eat him up. mamma puppy looked for him, but soon contented herself with the last of the four. we would do all we could to keep this little creature. on the way to the next camping-place, no. , we still followed the same blessed valley which had afforded us such an excellent route since christmas eve. the minimum temperature had fallen to - . °, as though a cold wave were passing over the country. at one place some wild yaks had left their visiting cards, and the men collected a sack of dung. evidently these animals come hither only in summer; the winter is too cold even for them. a mule died before we reached a spring surrounded by fair grazing. so far we had got on well, but had made little progress; on the past six days we had covered only miles. december . with a minimum of zero and a temperature at one o'clock of . ° the range between day and night is not great. but now the sky was covered with dense clouds; it snowed and became half dark; the men could not tell in which direction they were marching, and asked where the sun rose. we had the help of the longitudinal valley for another day's journey, and we followed it down to a junction of valleys where there was a huge sheet of ice. on the way i saw a flock of twenty-two wild sheep, which fled with great agility up a slope of detritus, bringing the stones rattling down. in the evening i informed abdul kerim, gulam, and kutus that we were to advance into tibet and steer our course past the arport-tso to the upper brahmaputra. and i told them that i should travel in disguise in order to escape notice. they were amazed, and asked if i should not expose my life to danger daily; but i calmed them, saying that all would go well if they only obeyed my orders implicitly. our chief concern was to preserve our animals, for if the caravan were lost we should never get on. "yes," answered the caravan bashi, "if we only find good pasture, so that the animals can rest and eat their fill, we can certainly hold out for two months, but they will not bear long marches." here we stood at a parting of the roads. our valley opened into another, which came down from high mountains in the south, part of the karakorum range. the united streams continued their course northwards, and could not be any other river but the upper course of the karakash darya; in its lower valley on the khotan darya i had many years before almost lost my life. now the question was whether we should go up or down, and we decided to devote the last day of the year to finding out which was the better road, sending out abdullah to reconnoitre south-eastwards, tubges north-eastwards. as in any case we should have to cross the ice sheet, a path was sanded. we packed the rupees colonel dunlop smith had sent from india in two sacks, which were lighter than the wooden boxes, and these were to be used as firewood some time when all else failed. at every camp our baggage became lighter, as our provisions diminished, and i threw away one book after another after i had read them. i had received from home the numbers of a swedish journal for half a year, and these were very useful in lighting our camp-fires. we had still nine sheep left, but the time was fast approaching when our meat supply would come to an end, for we could hardly reckon on finding game so soon. new year's day was bright and sunny--a good omen as regarded the dark riddles this year concealed. the two scouts returned with the same report: that there were no obstacles in the way; and i let them discuss the question themselves, and decide which way was the best. they chose abdullah's route, which led up the valley south-eastwards. the road here was excellent. at the mouth of the valley we found a couple of small round stone walls, which, however, might very well have been a hundred years old. the sight of a dead yak had an enlivening effect on us, contradictory as it may sound. higher we mounted to where a lofty snow mountain with glaciers could be seen at the end of the valley. then we stopped, and scouts were sent forwards. they declared that the way was impassable, and voted that abdullah should be thrashed. but as such measures would have been of no use to us in our difficulty he got off with a good scolding. he admitted that he had not been so far up as we were now, yet on his return he had asked for, and been given, a bit of tobacco for his reconnoitring work. i told him that he had done a mean trick, and that he should never see the smoke of my tobacco again. there was nothing to do but pitch our camp. a strong south-west wind blew, and fine snow was driven down from all the crests and summits. when the men went out to gather fuel they looked like polar explorers. after all, new year's day had brought us no good luck, but, on the contrary, a retreat. this was commenced early on the morning of january , and we passed again camp , and marched onwards over slopes of detritus on the eastern side of the ice sheet. at one spot spring water formed a little bubbling fountain in the midst of the ice. after the valley had turned to the east-north-east we encamped in a corner where driftsand was piled up into hillocks. i wanted to get out of this labyrinth of mountains and valleys which pour their waters into eastern turkestan. we were still in the basin of the karakash river, and must sooner or later cross a pass separating it from the salt lakes of the chang-tang. on the rd we again mounted up one of the head valleys and camped in its upper part, while the country was enveloped in a furious snowstorm. it continued till late in the evening, and what was most remarkable was that the stars shone all the time though the snow was falling thickly. before, there had been blue-black clouds above us without a snowflake. extraordinary land! next day we rested. the animals had been without drink for a long time, fuel was abundant, ice was taken from the river bed and melted in pots. in this region the mountains are less continuous, and form sharp peaks and pyramids of small relative height. it snowed all night, but the morning of january was fine as we travelled eastwards along the route kutus had investigated. it led up over snow-covered ground to a small pass ( , feet), on the other side of which another branch of the karakash crossed our course. we must get out of this entanglement, which delayed our march and told on our strength. as long as the animals kept up we had nothing to complain of. i was glad of every day that brought us a little nearer to spring and out of the winter's cold. it penetrated through everything. my feet had no feeling in them. gulam rubbed them and massaged me in the evening over the fire, but could not bring them to life. the ink was turned into a lump of ice and had to be thawed before the fire; when i wrote i had to bend over the brazier, and still the ink congealed in the pen and froze on the paper. singularly enough i have still an unquenchable desire for ice-cold water and prefer it to warm tea, but the water we usually get is far from pleasant. it is generally tubges who takes a spade and fills an empty sack with snow, and then melts it in a kettle. gulam tries to persuade me to drink tea, and cannot understand how it is that i am not sick of water. it is no use being thirsty in the night: a cup of water standing near the brazier is frozen to the bottom in a quarter of an hour. after a temperature of - ° and a stormy night, which drove the animals to seek shelter in the men's tent, we crossed the broad valley up to the next pass. we left a lofty snow-covered mountain to the south. at the foot of a hill a wild yak was musing. when he saw our dark train against the white snow he made straight towards us, but before long he took his way through the valley and dashed in wild flight to the north, followed by our two dogs. it was very encouraging to find something living in this god-forgotten wilderness; for now we had lost even the raven. it was a steep and slow ascent up to the pass, which had a height of , feet. we were surprised to find that it was a snow limit, for east of the pass there was no snow at all. as we descended the other side along a broad, open, sandy valley we had to be careful that we did not find ourselves without water in the evening. far to the south appeared an ice sheet, but it lay too far out of our course. we therefore filled two sacks with snow from the last drift, encamped where thin tufts afforded fuel, and sent five men with all the animals southwards to the ice in search of water and fodder. the water question now became pressing, for apparently we could not count on snow much farther. and we could not dig for water, as before, for the ground was frozen into stone. we must therefore proceed cautiously. we had a great open wilderness in front of us; we must make our way from one point of support to another, and explore the routes in advance, lest we might come to a catastrophe. i therefore gave orders that, now that the loads were considerably smaller, a couple of our animals should carry snow or ice. at every camp we left an empty meat-tin. i think less of the time soon approaching when the excellent goods from simla will come to an end than of the fact that the burdens of our animals are daily becoming lighter. the rock specimens i collect do not weigh much. of course the provender has long given out, but where the pasturage is scanty or altogether absent, loaves of parched meal are kneaded together for the animals. the men are to come back on the th, and we wait for them till mid-day. there, too, they come: the black group is plainly visible; they march and march, but come no nearer. ah, it is only some black stones dancing in the mirage. a little later suen reports that some of the animals have run away, and consequently we have to remain the whole day at this dismal camp. how slowly the hours pass on a day like this! i am a prisoner in my own tent, for cold and wind keep me from work out of doors. as long as the sun is above the horizon i pass the time very comfortably, for i can see the mountains, these silent, dreary, lonely mountains, where men never wander, and i see the sandspouts whirling along before the wind. but when the sun sets, the long winter evening begins, and i hear only the howl of the storm without. patience! spring will come some time. every day that passes we are a step farther from this horrible winter. brown puppy and her whelp keep me company, and i look upon them as comrades in misfortune. she has her mat in a corner of the tent, and takes her meals when i do. the whelp we call black puppy amuses me immensely. he has begun to take notice of the world and the life around him. when the big dogs bark outside the tent, he turns his head and gives a feeble growl. when his mother leaves him on the mat in the cold, he makes an attempt at a bark and seems to think it strange. he wanders about the tent, though he is still so unsteady on his legs that he constantly topples over. he has already conceived a highly salutary respect for the brazier, and sniffs and shakes his head when he chances to come too near it. sometimes it happens that he misses his mother in the night, when there may be as many as degrees of frost in the tent; but his complaining squeal awakens me, and i take him under the furs--an attention he is very fond of. one morning he wakened me by crawling of his own accord on to my pillow and trying to get into my bed. after that i felt no concern about his future; he must learn how to make his way in life, and that he was doing. on the th we went over a small pass , feet high. a horse and a mule perished on the way. camp was pitched where the first pasture was found, in a valley on the other side ( , feet). there was no water, but we had four sacks of ice. seven sheep were left, and the raven had also come again. the aim of our next day's journey was to find water for the animals. my trusty white ladaki horse, which i always rode, used to get my washing water every morning, and i used no soap that i might not spoil it for him. from a small rise in the ground we were able to enjoy the view i had so longed for--the great open plain we had crossed in the autumn of . to the east-south-east i easily recognized the spur we passed then, and we could not be more than two days' march from the aksai-chin lake. i had now followed for several days much the same route as crosby, and at the lake i should cross my own route of , after which we should go down towards the arport-tso, and, as last year, intersect the paths of bower, deasy, rawling, and zugmeyer. the whole country lay under a vault of dense clouds. after a march of only miles we found a flowing spring of beautiful water ( °), where camp no. ( , feet) was pitched. in the evening my servants sang bright and happy melodies again, and suen performed his most ridiculous dances. we were again up on the roof of the world, and all dreary tibet lay in front of us. should we be able to cross it with our little caravan? chapter lviii forty degrees below zero with fresh blocks of ice in our sacks we set out on january straight towards the projection at the foot of which camp had been pitched, and where i knew that the grass was good. the great level barren plain stretched between us and the spot, and we had miles to cover. the wind was boisterous, and we were frozen through in a minute. in the lee of the caravan, which went in advance, lay a cloud of dust like smoke. the yellow hue of the grass could be seen from a distance, and the sight so refreshed my men that they began to sing on the march. the animals understood that they were coming to good pasturage, and quickened their pace without any shouts from the men. the tents were set up in the same place as last year, and here i closed my long circuitous route through tibet. it was with a melancholy feeling i saw this place again, where muhamed isa had raised his tall cairn. now we had avoided all dangers from rudok, and we minded little that england and russia had promised each other not to let a european into tibet for three years. the height here was , feet. [illustration: . view from camp .] [illustration: . the small salt lake south of camp . (smudge in sky caused by the freezing of the colour.)] [illustration: . horses going to drink at the lake near camp . abdul kerim on the left.] [illustration: . mountain north-east of camp ; the freshwater lake in the foreground.] [illustration: . storm clouds over the snowy mountains south of camp . water-colour sketches by the author.] for several days i had spoken of this place with its good pasturage, and when we broke up our camp on the th i was able to promise my men a still better camp for the next night. they were astonished that i was so much at home in these dreary regions. the track of the great caravan of was blown away by the passage of many storms, but the aksai-chin lake soon came into sight, its surface looking grey and dismal in the chilly weather. six kiang spoors converged to the fine spring of fresh water near the shore, where we kindled our fires among the same stones as last time. pasturage and fuel are abundant in the neighbourhood; it is a veritable oasis--the best camp we had had since köteklik. but the storm still raged, and the salt waves rose high over the lake, cooled down to . °, though there was no sign of ice. in the night it snowed hard again, and on the th, which was made a day of rest, the lake lay blue amidst a landscape of shining white. when all goes well the mohammedans read no prayers. probably they think that when we can help ourselves it is unnecessary to disturb allah. we had to pay a horse as toll for the good pasturage. he lay frozen hard in the camp on the morning of the th, after a night temperature of - . °. the yellow dog remained beside him, and when he came late at night into the next camp, he was so fat and puffed up that it was evident he had stored up food for several days. two ravens followed us with their hoarse croaking. snow fell thickly and hid the view. a herd of antelopes disappeared like shadows in the mist. a sheep died on the way, and two more had to be killed, for they were worn-out; we had now only three left. the cold penetrated everywhere in the night, and the thermometer sank to - °. on january we made south-eastwards over a plain of soft, tiring ground, which caused us the loss of a mule. the caravan moved very slowly forward and in close order; the animals marched more comfortably when they were together; those which would linger behind, overcome with fatigue, were driven forward by the ladakis. at camp the grass was poor, and two mules seemed to be near their end. the cold was fearfully sharp in the night. the thermometer fell to - . °, or to nearly degrees below zero, and almost to the freezing-point of mercury. that was the lowest temperature i ever recorded in all my journeys in asia. but january brought a fine morning and an italian blue sky. abdul kerim and all the other mohammedans waited on me, in a tragi-comical procession, with dried apricots and almonds, and a simultaneous cry of "aid mubarek," or "a blessed festival." one of the festivals of islam fell on this day. exceedingly comical was the procession of the four lamaists, who came up as the others retired; and lobsang, who led them, took off his cap and scratched his head in tibetan fashion, but did not put out his tongue--he had no doubt learned in leh that this performance was not pleasing to a european. i gave them rupees each and handed the caravan bashi a watch, which he was to wind up well every evening to be sure of the time. on we marched again, moving slowly, for the ground rose. we proceeded like a funeral procession, and suen was the parson. there was no longer reason to fear thirst, for half the country was covered with snow. but every mile caused us a struggle, and it was long before we came to the cliff we were making for. we left a huge snowy massive on the right hand. next day's march took us over a flat saddle to a small side valley where there was some grass. the temperature had been down to - . °, and i could not by any means get life into my feet. sometimes they ached, sometimes there was an uncomfortable pricking in my toes, and then again they lost all feeling. during the day's rest we allowed ourselves in camp tubges shot an antelope and an ovis ammon, a feat which prolonged the lives of our last two sheep. in the evening the men were cheerful and hopeful as they sat around the flesh-pot. gulam razul had presented me with six bottles of whisky, which, sewed up in thick felt, had been brought all the way; for ladakis maintain that when a mule shows signs of exhaustion and weakness it can be cured by giving it whisky or other spirits. but the bottles were heavy, so three of them were emptied and set up as a memorial on some stones. perhaps some time or other they may be found by another traveller. the other three were kept. on the th we continued to follow the same longitudinal valley. all the ranges in this country run east and west, the usual direction in tibet. to the right was a lofty range we must cross if we would travel south-eastwards. through a gap in the northern mountains was visible to the north-east the mighty snowy dome we had passed to the right of in . eastwards there seemed to be no obstacle in the way, but we diverged south-eastwards up a valley. before we encamped (illust. ) another mule had fallen, and then we had lost a fourth of the caravan. next day we proceeded further up the valley. sometimes it was only yards broad between solid horizontal terraces. below a steep crag lay five pot-stones, and therefore tibetan hunters must have come thus far. the ladakis were delighted to meet with signs of human beings again. the valley opened out into an extensive plain, and a gap was seen to the south-east, but as the ground was lower towards the east we turned our steps in that direction. from the low threshold the view was anything but encouraging--a world of mountains. we resolved to encamp where we were ( , feet high) and to try the other, southern, passage next day. a miserable camp! the storm raged so violently that the tents could hardly be set up, and the iron tent-pegs beat together and rattled until they were fixed. we had first to make a fire before we could use our numbed hands, and a small stone wall had to be raised to prevent the fire from being carried away. now nature and the elements were against us, whereas we might in the future expect opposition from man. the pasture was wretched, and a grey horse and the last mule from poonch lay dead in the morning. it was the senior of the veterans, for it had come with me all the way from srinagar and had done good service, and i was grieved at losing it. now there was only one creature left which had seen the first beginning of the caravan, namely, our brown puppy. she and the little puppy kept me company in this oppressive, weary solitude. from camp , where we stayed a day, there was an uninterrupted view over another longitudinal valley, to the south of the former. there lay a contracted salt lake. at almost every camp, as on the former journey, i drew a panorama of the surroundings, and tried sometimes to paint small water-colour drawings (illust. ). then i had to sit in the opening of the tent and hold the block over the fire to prevent the brush freezing into a lump of ice. but the sky, which should have been of an even blue or grey tone, usually turned into a film of ice with strange stars and crystals. in camp we also remained a day, for the pasture was better than we had found for a long time. the grass grew in sand on the shore of a small freshwater lake with a free opening, where at length the animals got a good drink after having had to quench their thirst with snow. we had travelled miles since christmas eve, or about ½ miles a day on an average--a terribly slow pace. now we had had a furious storm for three days, and here yellow whirls of sand flew over the ice and the wind moaned and rustled through the grass. abdul kerim sewed together a long mohammedan coat for me, which i was to wear under my fur when i assumed my disguise. on january the whole country was covered with dazzling snow and the sun shone, but a stormy blast drove the fine snow particles in streaks over the land, and a roaring sound was heard. antelopes careered lightly over the ground, dark against the white snow. a mule died on the way; not even tibetan mules can bear this climate. i was benumbed and half-dead with cold before i reached the camp. after a temperature of - . ° the neighbourhood was enveloped in semi-darkness by heavy clouds. the jagged mountains to the south reminded me of a squadron of armoured vessels at gunnery practice in rainy weather. their grey outlines peeped out from the low clouds. the valley was about miles broad. towards the east the snow lay less thickly, and finally only the footprints of wild animals were filled with snow, like a string of pearls in the dark ground. [illustration: . camp .] [illustration: . camp . the beginning of a storm.] [illustration: . camp . lemchung-tso, looking east.] [illustration: . camp . kanchung-gangri from the north. in the foreground lapchung-tso, the source of chaktak- or charta-tsangpo.] as i turn over the leaves of my diary of this terrible journey how often i come across the remark that this was the hardest day we had hitherto experienced. and yet days were always coming when we suffered still more. so it was on january . the sky was covered with such compact clouds that we might fancy we were riding under a prison vault. the storm raged with undiminished violence, and a quarter of an hour after i had mounted my horse i was benumbed and powerless. my hands ached, and i tried to thaw my right hand by breathing on it whenever i had to take a note, but after reading the compass for two seconds my hands lost all feeling. my feet troubled me less, for i had no feeling at all in them. i only hoped i should reach the camp before the blood froze in my veins (illust. ). then we come at length to the arport-tso and leave the northern basin of the lake on our left, while a large basin swells out like a fjord towards the south. a mountain spur sends out a cape into the lake, which has a very irregular outline. it stands in our way. shall we leave it on the right or left? we come up to the middle of the lake shore and wait while lobsang goes to see if the caravan can travel over the ice. he hurries forward and makes us a sign to follow. we go down to the beach and along a spit which narrows down to a fine point. here the ice on our left hand has been piled up into hummocks, feet high, of grand transparent green flat slabs, but on the right, as far as we can see over the southern basin, the ice spreads its level smooth sheet of a beautiful dark green colour like leaves of laurel and lilac. we feel the usual fascination of the ice, and stand and stare down into the dark cold depths. drifting snow sweeps like comets' tails over the smooth course. we stand on the very point of the promontory, with the narrowest part of the arport-tso in front of us, for the lake is contracted like a wasp's waist. here there are fences, walls, and barriers raised by ice pressure, and between them snow is drifted up, hard and dry on the surface. it would have been quite impossible to march over the bare ice; the caravan would have been carried away like chaff before the wind. but the snow affords us an excellent path. lobsang leads the way, guiding us in many a wind, but we get across and come to the farther shore at the foot of a cliff. worse followed, for the rocky point fell straight down to the lake on its eastern side, and here we had slippery ice swept clear of snow which we sanded. one horse or mule after another slipped and fell. some of them made no attempt to get up again, but were dragged over the ice to firm ground, where their loads were put on again. some fell with a heavy thud on the hard treacherous ice. we had to double a whole series of points in this way till we came to one where further progress was impossible, for at its foot issued forth springs which produced large openings in the ice. there icy cold waves beat with a sharp sound against the edges of the ice under the lash of the wind, which drove continually clouds of snow dancing like elves over the dark green field of ice. we had to struggle up over steep slopes till at last we reached, thoroughly tired out, an inlet where a few leaves of grass grew. we had left a mule on the ice, and two men went back and gave it a drop of whisky so that it could come on to the camp. but my brown horse from shigatse, which had so often carried me up to the east gate of tashi-lunpo, remained behind for good. it is sad and depressing when a veteran dies. arport-tso lies at a height of , feet. the water, which was drawn from an opening in the ice, was quite potable. there was a high pass in front of us to the south-east, but we could not reach it in one day, and we camped on the plain at the south-east of the lake where rawling had once stayed. it was little more than a mile thither, but the grass was good and the animals needed nourishment. it snowed thickly all day. it was warm and comfortable under cover, and we pitied the poor animals which were out grazing in the cold. the small puppy had grown so much that he could wander alone between the tents watching for an opportunity to steal meat. a sheep was slaughtered. at night the cold was more severe again, and the thermometer sank to - . °. the sick mule sought shelter behind the men's tent, lay down at once, and gave vent to a piteous sound. i went out to look at it, and caused it to be put out of its misery. [illustration: . my dying pony. sketched by the author.] on the morning of the th we found two horses dead on the grass. one was one of the veterans of leh which robert had ridden, and which also bore me to the springs in the sutlej bed. we had now only twenty-three animals left, and my small white ladaki was the last of the veterans. little i thought, as he carried me over the chang-lung-yogma, that he would survive a hundred and fifty comrades. every morning two long icicles hung down from his nostrils. he was taken great care of, and i always saved a piece of bread from my breakfast for him. i had a particular affection for him and for brown puppy. they had been with me so long, and had passed through so many adventures. a loss of three animals in one day was serious for such a caravan as ours. how would it all end? we had still an immense distance before us. we struggled for three hours with halting steps up this terrible pass which had a height of , feet. we encamped in the shelter of a rock and killed the last worn-out sheep, and then had no live store of meat. the temperature fell to - . °, and the first sound i heard in the morning of the th was the everlasting howl of the storm. we marched south-eastwards through snow a foot deep. "one of our worst days," it is styled in my diary. we cared about nothing except to get to our camp alive. i had a scarf wound several times over my face, but it was quickly turned into a sheet of ice, which cracked when i turned my head. i tried to smoke a cigarette, but it froze on to my lips. two horses died on the way, and abdul kerim's horse took over the load of one of them, while the man himself went on foot like the others. i followed the track of the caravan with kutus. then we found kunchuk sonam and suen unable to go further; they suffered from pains at the heart. i tried to cheer them up, and promised to give them medicine if they would follow slowly in the track of the caravan. was it now the turn of the men after half the caravan had been lost? quite overcome with fatigue they hobbled at twilight into camp. abdul kerim came into my tent very cast down and asked if we should fall in with nomads within ten days, for otherwise he considered our condition desperate. in truth, i could give him no consolation, but could only tell him that we must go on as long as there was a single mule left, and then try to drag ourselves along to the nomads with as much food as we could carry. now we thought no longer of pursuers behind, or of dangers before us, but only wished to preserve our lives and come to country where we could find means of subsistence. behind us the snow obliterated our tracks, and the future awaited us with its impenetrable secrets. chapter lix in the snow the storm howled round us all night long, and our thin tent canvas fluttered in the blast. gulam awaked me with the information, "it is nasty weather to-day; we can see nothing." even the nearest mountains were hidden by the snow, and if i had not already taken a bearing along the valley in the direction south, ° e., we could not have set out. this day, january , we had to keep together, for the driving snow obliterated the tracks immediately. we had two leaders, and i rode last along the trail, which at first was marked as a black winding line, but farther on, where the snow lay feet deep, no ground or rubbish could be seen. a brown horse which carried no burden lay down and died in the snow. we could see the snow making ready its grave before it was cold. it vanished behind us in the dreadful solitude. we move forwards at a very slow pace through the snowdrifts. the fury of the storm carries away the warning shouts from the lips of the guides and they do not reach our ears; we simply follow the trail. lobsang goes first, and he often disappears in the dry loose snow and has to seek another direction. in the hollows the snow lies feet deep, and we can take only one step at a time after the spades have cut us a ditch through the snow. one or other of the animals is always falling, and the removal of his load and readjusting it causes a block, for all must follow in the same furrow. all, men and animals, are half-dead with fatigue and labour for breath. the snow sweeps round us in suffocating wreaths; we turn our backs to the wind and lean forwards. only the nearest mules are plainly visible, the fifth is indistinct, and those at the front are seen only as slight shadows amidst the universal whiteness. i cannot catch a glimpse of the guides. thus the troop passes on a few steps till it comes to the next block, and when the mule immediately in front of me moves on again it is only to plunge into a hollow filled with snow, where two men wait to keep up its load. the direction is now east and the ground rises. a few such days and the caravan will be lost (illust. ). at length we come to a low pass ( , feet high). even at sea-level such a journey would be hard enough, but how much worse it is in a country which lies some hundreds of feet higher than mont blanc, and where there is nothing but granite. on the eastern side of the saddle the snow lay feet deep in some places, and it seemed as though we should be stuck fast in the snowdrifts; and what had we to expect then? for the provender was coming to an end, and we must go on if we would find pasture. now we went gently down, the snow became a little less deep, and we came to an expansion of the valley where there were stretches of ground swept bare by the blast. on the right appeared a slope where abdul karim thought he saw blades of grass sticking up out of the snow, and he asked permission to camp. it was difficult to set up the tents that evening. at dusk the two sick men came up, their faces blue and swollen. a miserable camp! the storm increased to a hurricane, and nothing could be heard but its howling. when i looked out of my tent i could see nothing that was not white, and there was no difference between the ground, the mountains, and the sky--all being alike white. not even the men's tent could be distinguished in the driving snow. the fine particles penetrated into the tent and covered everything with a white powder. it was impossible to look for fuel, and at three o'clock the temperature in the tent was . °. i could see nothing living outside, and i might have been quite alone in this wilderness. [illustration: . lost beyond recovery.] my trusty gulam comes, however, at length with fire, for lobsang and sedik have found some brushwood. gulam says that sonam kunchuk is ready to lay himself down on the snow and die, but i advise him to take a good dose of quinine instead. late at night the tones of the hymn to allah reach my ears, sounding softer and sadder than usual amid the raging of the storm. we are moving towards a dark destiny, i have attempted too much, and any moment the catastrophe may come. we are snowed up here, the animals must die of starvation and i myself--well, it is but a question of time. a little below the camp the valley made a turn to the right. thither the animals had gone at night, but came back as there was no grazing. a grey mule had stayed behind to die. it lay in a curious position, as though it had died in the act of getting up--on its knees with its nose pressed against the ground, and was frozen hard in this position. yet the temperature fell only to - . °. the storm continued with undiminished violence on january . we loaded the nineteen mules and horses and marched down the valley at random in the same dense snow. the snow came down in incredible quantities; such a snowstorm i had never witnessed even on the pamir. we could not travel more than ¾ miles, and then we halted and pitched the tents, which looked dirty against the pure snow. four big wild yaks were moving over the slopes, tramping like snow-ploughs. the dogs made after them, but soon gave up the chase, for they could not go far in the drifts. the animals received their allowance of rice, and then trailed off to a hill where they poked about for the scanty grass. i examined all the baggage with the help of abdul kerim and gulam, and discarded all that could be spared. unnecessary clothing and worn-out boots were burned, and reserve garments were brought out. my articles, note-books, and instruments were stuffed into two small sacks. writing materials and other things for daily use were packed in a small handbag from stockholm. the other chests were used as firewood, when the men had stripped off the leather coverings to make new shoe-soles. even the box for the cooking utensils and the provision boxes were burned, and all the baggage was henceforth carried in sacks. by this means the loads were made lighter and more convenient, though there was more trouble in turning everything out of a sack when anything was wanted from the bottom. in the afternoon there was a short break in the snowstorm. beyond the white limits of the valley was seen to the south-east the large lake shemen-tso, with a dark purple sky above it, presaging more snow. i took bearings of the next day's route, and it was well i did so, for soon the snow began to fall again unusually thickly. it snowed all day and all night, and a swishing sound was heard as the snowflakes were driven by the wind against the canvas of the tent and from time to time slipped down. in the morning of february piles of snow lay round the tents. the minimum temperature was only - . °, and it felt quite pleasant. we loaded our weary hungry pack animals and marched slowly south-eastwards. the gale blew from the south, and the snow pelted on to our faces. silently and heavily the fainting troop moved on towards the lake. all the men's beards and moustaches were white with rime, and we seemed all to have turned grey in a night. abdul kerim walked in front with his staff, but he took a wrong direction, and i chose another leader. in some places we were nearly suffocated in the snow, and the crestfallen men stood in the drifts, at a loss what to do. but we plunged and floundered on a bit, and then stood still; then a little bit further. the pass over which we had made our way the previous day was no doubt blocked by snow. had we reached it two days later we should never have forced a way over it. now our retreat was cut off, and we must seek safety southwards. it was some consolation to know that we had burned our ships. [illustration: . "if this continues a few days longer, we are lost."] fortunately the ground sloped down, and as we toiled on hour after hour the snow diminished and travelling became easier. but the storm, which had now raged for a fortnight, showed no signs of abatement. down on the western flat by the lake the snow mantle was thin, and we encamped in a spot where the grass was not bad. i gave the men some cigarettes every evening--at other times they smoked yak-dung and filled their narghilés with tea-leaves. the night was unusually mild, with the minimum temperature only . °, but the clouds were as dense as ever and the snow fell unceasingly. it was dark all day, as though a curtain hung over the forbidden land. we stayed at camp . the storm blew from the south-west more wildly than usual. the animals grazed with their heads to leeward, and had to be driven windwards again every time they came to the edge of the restricted area of grass. on february , also, we remained where we were. all night long the hurricane had raged, tearing, raving, ploughing up the ground like a gigantic plough, and endeavouring to pull down our tents. in the evening i secured everything that could fly away if the tent were overthrown. in the morning all the animals had disappeared as though they had been carried away by the blast; at any rate, they had gone with the wind to the northern shore of the lake. immediately beyond our camp was a spring of fresh water and a round fold for sheep. i had ceased to look forward to spring, it seemed so hopelessly distant, and to be farther off every day that passed. brown puppy and little puppy kept me company as usual, and we played together to pass the hours of our imprisonment. gulam continued to rub my feet, but with little result, for they remained numb and cold as ice. then he brought two pairs of _paipaks_ of thick felt and a pair of _charuks_ or yarkand boots of soft leather outside. they were really warmer than my kashmir boots, which were ruthlessly burned. chapter lx death of the last veteran studded with twinkling stars the winter sky stretched its dark-blue canopy over our lonesome camp, and degrees of frost foretold a clear day. on february not a cloud hovered over the mountains, and this plateau, abandoned by gods and men, which had lately been buried under the white shroud of winter, was again illumined by bright sunlight. sad news was brought me in the morning: a horse and a mule lay dead beside the tents. with the seventeen remaining animals we continued our journey along the irregular northern shore of the shemen-tso ( , feet). the quantity of snow became less, and at camp the gravelly ground was almost bare. the view over the lake was grand. captain rawling's map of this district is executed with great accuracy. on february , also, we encamped on the shore of the great lake, having followed the curves of its bays and capes. a mule died on the way. though we had burned all we could dispense with, yet the loads were much too heavy for the surviving animals. a big strong mule always led the van, at the heels of gulam; it carried at least two ordinary loads, and yet was fat and fresh. there was no sign of human beings. a flock of jackdaws were perched on a crag. at the camp the provisions were inspected, and we decided to relinquish three heavy sacks of rice. the rice was to be given on the following days, mixed with parched meal and water, to the animals. of my provisions, only two boxes of tinned meat, some jam and biscuits, were left. we had not tasted meat for some time. the storm raged all day and the sun had vanished again. on february we passed a very abundant spring of water at a temperature of . °, which poured into the lake. there flocks of sheep had recently drunk, and rows of cairns ran from the shore to guide antelopes into the traps in the ground. now no game was seen except a single kiang. a mule died, and abdul kerim's yellow horse fell by the way. only fourteen animals reached the camp this day, and of these my small white ladaki was in the worst plight; he stumbled and fell, and i made a somersault over his head. the day after, we made a short journey, left the lake and its barren shore behind us, and set up our tents amid good grass. the weather was fine; at one o'clock the temperature was °, and it felt as though spring had come. all the animals lay down to rest and warm themselves in the sun. only my small ladaki began to graze immediately; he would not die, but would follow me to the end. wild asses and antelopes grazed on the steppe, and hares were plentiful. i was alarmed by a message that three men could be seen at some distance to the north, and the caravan bashi wished me to come and examine them through my field-glass. apparently they were on the way to our camp. but i had plenty of time to put on my disguise. i watched them a long time, till at last they turned into three wild yaks which had been lengthened out by mirage. we had no need yet to trouble ourselves about men, but perhaps these yaks were forerunners. now i had ridden my small white horse for the last time. on february , when we continued our march east-south-east after a minimum temperature of - . ° he followed the caravan loose and unladen, and fell even without a rider. i rode instead a grey horse from tikze. we made barely miles, but yet the journey was full of events. on the other side on a low hill stood a pantholops antelope, which did not run away though we were quite close. we soon noticed that it was held fast and was struggling to get free. the dogs rushed at it, but a couple of men hurried on to keep them off. the animal was fast in a snare laid in an antelope track, where also we noticed fresh footprints of two men. we were evidently not far from winter hunters, who perhaps had already caught sight of us. perhaps they had seen me, the only one riding in european dress. perhaps it was too late to disguise myself. all my plans would then be spoiled, and all the labours of the winter lost. but at any rate we had now fresh meat. let us examine the ingenious trap in which the game is caught. plates of rib bones of antelopes are firmly fixed in a ring of hard twisted vegetable fibres, which form a funnel with the points in a ditch. the antelope is enticed into the trap by a row of small cairns, and tramps about in the funnel, the plates giving way, but forming immovable impediments when he attempts to draw his hoofs out. but the snare must be held secure if it is to have the desired effect. a rope as thick as a finger is made fast in the bottom of the ditch, which is filled with water, and after freezing becomes as hard as stone. the free end of the rope forms a noose above the ring of fibres, which tightens when the animal first attempts to lift his leg and holds down the funnel of ribs. the more the poor animal jumps about, the faster is the hold of the twisted snare. the victim was slain; the dogs ate their fill of the entrails, and the meat made ordinary loads for four men. then we went on. at the mouth of a valley to the south were seen a sheepfold and two black specks we took for stones. beyond a grass-grown mound we found a pool of fresh water, and we pitched the camp near it. it was not long before the ladakis were sitting round a fire and roasting pieces of delicate, much-appreciated meat. now, when we were evidently in the neighbourhood of human beings, it was time for me to give directions to my people. all were summoned to my tent. i told them that we should succeed in crossing the forbidden land only by craftiness and cautiousness, and that i had made the great sacrifices which they had witnessed only to see regions where no sahib had ever been. if our scheme were to be successful, every man must do his duty and play his part well. whenever tibetans put the usual questions, whence we came and whither we were going, they should answer that we were all, without exception, ladakis, in the service of a merchant named gulam razul, who had sent us to chang-tang to find out how much wool could be bought from the nomads next summer. abdul kerim was our leader and chief, and had to manage our affairs. he was therefore given rupees for expenses, and every evening when no one could spy upon us he was to render an account to me. i myself was one of his servants, a mohammedan named--abdurrahman, the caravan bashi suggested--but no; hajji baba sounded better to me. accordingly, when we came among tibetans, they should never forget and call me sahib, but only hajji baba. all understood the matter and promised to do their best. a little later, lobsang came running up and declared that the two black stones were tents. we went out and examined them through the field-glass. quite true; smoke rose from one of them, but neither men nor animals were visible. i at once ordered abdul kerim, abdul rasak, and kutus to go and pay for the antelope, buy anything they could, and obtain information. they soon came back again and asked if it would not be wiser to avoid the tents and march on eastwards, the more so that the inmates might be robbers. no; these men had seen us and might send a report to rudok, and then we should be stopped. it was best, then, to enter into friendly relations with the men and lull them into security. "bismillah," cried the three and took themselves off, while the others sat by the fire in lively conversation about the incidents of the day and the prospects of the future. it was now sixty-four days since we had left the last village in ladak, while on the former journey we had been in solitude for eighty-one days. after three hours my men returned. the two tents contained nine inmates--two grown-up men, two women, three girls, and two boys. the older man was named purung kungga, and he owned sheep and dogs, but no other animals. during their journey from yildan their tents and goods were carried by sheep. they had arrived two months before, and intended to stay half a month more. the day before they had just been to look at their antelope trap, when they were alarmed at the sight of the caravan. they took it for granted that only robbers could be travelling in this district, which lay outside the haunts of honest and honourable men. the antelope had, then, been not more than an hour in the trap. abdul kerim paid rupees for it, for a sheep, and for milk and butter. we could get more milk early in the morning, but we should have to send for it, for the nomads dared not come to our tents. we might have kept the antelope without compensation, for we were wayfarers and had a right to take what we found. in answer to their inquiry who we were, abdul kerim repeated the yarn he had just learned. the country about camp is called riochung. in one of the tents lay the hides and meat of nine antelopes. the people lived almost exclusively on the game they caught in their snares. so far we had been fortunate. with provisions for twenty-one days instead of for seventy-five, we had struggled up to the karakorum instead of finding a passage to the east; we had been persecuted by raging storms, biting cold, and deep snow all the way, and yet we had lighted on the first men. they were like a rock in the ocean, and now again we were to venture over the raging waves. this day found us only a few miles up a gently sloping valley filled with ice. little puppy was let loose and had to look after himself a bit. but he was soon tired, and lay down till kunchuk fetched him. february . the valley bottom is full of ice sheets, which we often cross after they have been strewn with sand. we wander through a labyrinth of clay hills. in an expansion to the left are seen three stone cabins and some _mani_ heaps; here is the gold placer which rawling calls rungma-tok, and the hunters we saw yesterday getsa-rung. the gold-diggers come hither only in summer. the camp to-day, no. , is in an excellent spot, with a sandy soil, plenty of fuel, and an unfrozen brook. it is pleasant to listen to the purling water, a sign of approaching spring. east and south-east rises a wreath of lofty mountains, which we have to surmount. as long as the ground is flat and there is grass the animals do very well, but they cannot endure a high pass. my white ladaki has picked up again, and the men are ordered to tend him carefully. february . we ascend the valley, and the snow becomes deeper again. in one place are seen fresh tracks of three men. we camp behind a cliff to get shelter from the wind, but first we have to cross the ice belt in the valley bottom, where a path has been recently sanded. it is evident that we shall soon fall in with men--perhaps on the march between the two camps. therefore i put on my new ladaki costume with a girdle round the waist. the white turban is kept ready at hand in case we meet tibetans. the _chapkan_ looks suspiciously clean, but gulam undertakes to soil it with fat and soot. my soft leather vest is sacrificed and cut up for soles. after this camp lobsang and kutus were required to give me every evening lessons in tibetan, and i arranged all the new words in a vocabulary, which afterwards grew to a considerable size. thus we spent a couple of hours each day when all my literature was at an end. i especially practised the answers i was to give in case i, hajji baba, were subjected to cross-examination. on the th we marched up through the snowdrifts in the valley, where small, graceful, elegant goa antelopes were seen on two occasions. the camping-ground was so wretched that all the animals wandered back in the night to the former camp, and therefore the next day was lost, and we waited wearily. in my grey _chapkan_ i am too conspicuous among the other ragamuffins, and whenever i have an opportunity i smear soot and butter on it and cut holes in it here and there. a continuation of such treatment will at length make it as disreputable as the others. i also try to leave off washing my face and hands, but do not succeed in looking as dirty as my men. with them the dirt seems to be engrained and never to be removed, and they could grow potatoes under their nails. my desire was to become like them as soon as possible, that i might escape the notice of the tibetans. february . temperature - . °. again we are a few miles nearer our destination and a day nearer spring. our progress is slow, but we must be glad that we can get along at all. camp is in the valley leading to the pass, which we have taken several days to reach. a mule is fatigued and is relieved of his load. some grass is again found, and all the animals go out to graze, except my small ladaki, which stands beside my tent with drooping head and icicles under his eyes. he has been weeping, knowing well that he will never be able to cross over the pass and that we shall leave him. i sit beside him for several hours, patting and stroking him, and trying to induce him to eat lumps of meal mixed with rice. he revives again and goes slowly after his comrades. february . temperature - . °. a hard, toilsome day. through ice and snow among sharp detritus we march up the valley. my white horse leads the way of his own accord and i ride in the rear. we keep together for some time, and ascend step by step towards the troublesome pass. but first one and then another lags behind. among them is my white horse. i stop and whisper in pure swedish into his ear: "do not lose courage; put out all your strength and climb the pass, and then you will go down in a few days to fine rich pasture." he raises his head, pricks up his ears, and gazes at me as i go on up to the pass with kutus and gulam. only a couple of lively mules follow my horse and halt where he halts, at every twentieth step. at last we came up to the flat pass, which attains to the considerable height of , feet. here we waited a long time. the large black mule passed first over the snowy threshold of the pass and then the others, till nine baggage animals had gone by and my grey tikze horse last. abdul kerim reported that four animals were thoroughly tired out. i ordered that they should be led step by step even till night if necessary, and he went down to them again. a little later appeared tubges and abdullah carrying two loads. one of the four animals had already departed this life. to the west-north-west, the direction from which we had come, the view was magnificent--a sea of wild, red, gigantic undulations, with snow crowning the summits and streaming down their sides. during the last days we had noticed schists, porphyry, red and grey granite. the country was absolutely barren, and we must try to reach the nearest grass in the descending valley, but it was full of snow, and the train moved slowly and wearily through the drifts. i went on foot like the rest; every man carried a load to help the animals. all were silent, and tramped and balanced themselves in the track marked by the leader. the valley contracted to a ditch, and where the first yak-moss grew we threw down our burdens. a sorry camp in the close dismal valley. the last animals stood tied together, and were fed with pulverized yak-dung and moss mixed with meal and rice. at dusk the other men came up leading a mule. three animals were gone, and one of them was my small white ladaki horse. he had struggled up to the very top of the pass, where i had sat watching for him in vain, and then had laid himself down to die. he had served me and carried me faithfully and patiently for a year and a half, and had never from the first been missing from the camping-ground, and now that the last of the veterans was gone i felt very lonely. during the whole journey he had never reached a higher spot than that whereon he died; on the very saddle of the pass his bones would be bleached by the winter storms and the summer sun. the caravan this evening was empty and forlorn, for i had lost a trusty friend. now brown puppy was my consoler, for she had been with me from srinagar, and her little whelp was the youngest and least anxious member of our struggling troop. two mules had crossed the pass but died in the valley. if another such pass lay in our way the caravan would perish. the loads were much too heavy for the surviving animals. a thorough weeding-out was necessary. my ulster and most of my european clothes were burned. felt mats, tools, kitchen utensils, and spare shoes for the horses were thrown away. my small swedish bag was burned, and all the medicines except the quinine jar were sacrificed; my european toilet necessaries, including my razors, went the same way, and only a piece of soap was kept. all european articles that were not absolutely indispensable were cast into the fire. i tore out of fröding's poems the leaves i did not know by heart, and left the rest at the camp. the remaining matches were distributed among the men; i kept myself twenty-four boxes, which must suffice until the time when we must use only flint and steel to preserve our incognito. cold and sad the night spread its wings over the silent valley where our lonely camp, a picture of desolation, was buried among black cliffs and white snowdrifts, while the stars came out above like lights burning round a bier. while the lightened loads were being placed on the animals i started on foot followed by two men. one of them, kutus, walked beside me, and i steadied myself by his shoulder as we floundered through the drifts. the wind blew furiously, and the snow danced in spirals and appeared as white clouds on all the crags and ridges. after a march of about miles we encamped when we came to grass. snow had to be melted in pots, for the animals had been long without drink. this process did not take so long now that only eleven animals were left. with tottering steps we continued to the east-south-east on the th and th, sometimes along valleys, sometimes over open country, and always through deep tiring snow. camp (illust. ) was barely made ready when a terrible storm burst over us. the sky had been clear, and then all of a sudden the pure blue colour was wiped out by orange clouds of dust which swept up from the south-west. i was sitting in the lee of my tent when in an instant the contents of the brazier were carried away. a heap of wild asses' dung which the men had collected also flew away, and we saw the small round balls dancing up the slopes as though they were racing. a herd of antelopes cantered past our camp, and their smooth coats shimmered like satin and velvet according as the hair was exposed to the wind and the light. again our ears are filled with the din of the storm. i hurry inside, and hear from time to time a shout when some part of the men's tent threatens to give way, or the sound of iron against iron when the tent-pegs have to be driven in again, or a singing dying-away sound when my towel is seized by the blast and borne away towards the foot of the mountains. we might be on an unsound vessel with the sails flapping and beating in cracking strips, and the mountain spurs, which still peep obscurely from the mist, might be dangerous and threatening reefs, against which we are to be dashed in a moment. grand and majestic is such a storm when it sweeps over the earth in unbridled fury. chapter lxi thirty days of storm on february we had good country for travelling, declining gently to the shore of the lemchung-tso, which appeared in the distance. i travelled mostly on foot, as i could easily do, for the storm had abated, but, as usual, we were chilled through by the wind, though the temperature rose to ° at one o'clock. at the foot of some hills in the south we perceived numbers of black spots, which we took for tame yaks. they soon resolved themselves, however, into whole troops of antelopes, which sped in light springs over the plain northwards. now were often seen signs of the summer visits of the gertse nomads. we had left deasy's and rawling's routes a couple of days behind us, and now found ourselves on the western margin of one of the largest blank spaces in the map of tibet. after a grey horse had perished in the night we had only ten animals left, or a fourth of the original caravan. they were fed in the morning with meal and spent tea-leaves in water, which they swallowed with avidity. our store of provisions would last out barely a month. we were or miles from the shore of the lake, and on arriving there we encamped close to a cave in which a millstone and a couple of yak hides had been left in the summer. along the shore ran a path worn by the feet of men. we stayed here a day and sorted out the baggage again. all spare instruments, such as thermometers, measuring tape, eye-glasses, etc., as well as some european garments, a couple of caps, bandages, portfolios, were sewed up, together with some stones, in a sack, and sunk in a hole in the ice, which covered the lake to a depth of nearly feet. now i had only three changes of under-clothing left, one of which might be sacrificed at the next sorting out--we were like a balloon from which ballast is thrown out to keep it in the air till it has crossed a sea and has firm ground below it. in the evening we hear a whole orchestra of roaring winds. the air hurls itself down like cascades from the mountains on to the camp, and cannot rush fast enough over the clear ice of the lake, where the moon produces bright silvery streaks on the surface, while the mountains show a dark outline to the north. grazing and fuel are plentiful to-day, and therefore we are in high spirits. the men sing, sometimes softly like a swinging lullaby or rounded billows in a bay, sometimes in the wild and passionate style of asiatics, and dance around the fire. but when the most violent gusts rush down, they pause, prepared to prevent the tent from falling over the fire. they seem to sing responses to the storm, and i am pleased with the performance, for it chases away thoughts of the long hours of solitude, and calls forth pleasant dreams and hopes of spring, warm winds, discoveries and adventures in tibet. i wonder daily how this journey will end, but every day i am a step nearer to the answer. on february we left the little freshwater lake on our left hand, while the lemchung-tso proper extended its partly frozen surface to the right. in the middle the water was quite open and of a dark-green colour, and was lashed into vapour by the storm. to the east-south-east the country seemed favourable--an open plain, where no obstacle came in our way. in front of us were two grazing animals--perhaps yaks or wild asses. gulam, who went in front, held up a field-glass and reported that they were horses. so we were near nomads again. we searched about in every direction but could perceive no tent. had, perchance, the horses strayed away? however, they were not shy, but became very sprightly when they caught sight of us, galloped straight to the caravan, and greeted every horse and mule individually. after this civility they followed us all the way, prancing and neighing. they were three-year-old colts which had never carried a saddle or a load--fat, fresh, and nimble-footed, very different from our last three horses. when we encamped they went off to the south and were lost to sight. the storm increased in violence, and our last iron spade and a kettle were carried away by the wind, but were afterwards recovered. february . the thermometer sank to - . °. our last ten animals made a short day's march along the same easy valley. i could perceive no trace of the "snowy range" of english maps in the prolongation of this valley. we observed a couple of tents in the mouth of a valley to the north, but we were now in no distress. i lived exclusively on tea, bread, and jam, of which there were still two pots left. the storm continued next day also. we seldom covered more than or miles. in the past month we had travelled miles, more than in the previous month. during the evening and night the snow pelted on to our tents. i still had my warm comfortable bed, but at a pinch it would also go piecemeal into the fire. everything that was discarded was burned or buried, lest, if it were left, it might arouse suspicions. for another day's march we had the advantage of this fine longitudinal valley, which imperceptibly rises to a flat threshold, beyond which we passed a gold placer. the holes from which the auriferous sand is extracted are to feet in diameter, and little more than feet deep. it is evident that some of them have been dug out last summer. a little farther down gold had been searched for some time ago. folds, stone shelters for marksmen, and stone cairns were to be seen in several places. [illustration: , , , , . panoramas from the camps , , , , ; in the last two, sha-kangsham. after water-colour sketches by the author.] still lower down we came, on the following day, to a third placer, situated where the valley contracts to a trough. here large sheepfolds and abundant tracks of men were found. the gold is washed out on flat stones in a flume yards long. the valley afterwards contracts to a breadth of yards, and the bottom is mostly filled with ice, here and there forming ledges. these had to be levelled with axes and strewn with sand, and each animal was led and held up by men. we could not afford to let any one of them break his leg and be lost to us. then the ice came to an end, the valley opened out, and we pitched our tents in an extensive flat. towards the east the land was all favourable, and no "snowy range" stood in our way. we could see miles ahead. tubges shot five hares and we had a feast that evening. a pack of wolves howled round the camp at night. february . a thousand wild asses were seen on the plain which sloped down gently to the east-south-east. they formed dark lines, sometimes large, sometimes small, sometimes spots like a rosary. some herds galloped off to a point about two hundred yards in front of the caravan, where they stood and gazed and then dispersed, springing away in graceful movements. perhaps they were here for a great spring congress, to decide questions relating to their territory and pastures. it is certain that, like the nomads, they migrate at fixed seasons, for they also are dependent on the occurrence of grass and its varying abundance at different heights and different times of the year. farther down the plain, beyond a small cliff, were five herds of kiangs, the nearest of which numbered head. they came galloping almost up to us. lobsang ran towards them. then they set off in wild flight one after another, their hoofs thundering over the ground, made a wide curve behind us, and vanished in a dense cloud of dust, the hard beat of their hoofs being still audible. a strong puff of wind dispersed the cloud, and they came into sight again; they stood quaking with fear, and looked at us, pricked up their ears, dilated their nostrils, and sniffed the wind. to the south of our route we perceived two tents among small scattered heights. abdul kerim and two men went off to them while we pitched camp . on their return they reported that the tents were the property of a certain tsering ngorpel from gertse, who had come hither with his family for two months and was going back in a month. they were poor people, and owned only sheep and goats, yaks, and dog. the neighbourhood of camp the man called senes-yung-ringmo, and he said that if we marched south-eastwards we should almost daily meet with nomads from gertse and senkor, districts in the south which i had passed through in . they were afraid of our men and would not let them enter the tents. two fine sheep and a lump of butter were bought, and rescued us from starvation for a time. the hare meat was discarded and given to the dogs. we made the two sheep carry themselves our newly-acquired store of meat to camp ; we had no room for extra loads. we mounted slowly to a flat pass. three tents stood in a side valley and some men came out to look at us, but we passed on without exchanging questions and answers. on february the wind raged furiously all day long. clouds swept ceaselessly over the country, and at one o'clock the temperature was . °, quite low enough to chill a rider down to the bones and marrow. in front of us lay a large flat hollow, in the midst of which two small lakes shone white with ice. we slowly approached the isthmus between them. a herd of antelopes took to flight and nearly fell over a lonely wild ass, which looked at them uneasily, but at the last moment they turned off in another direction as though they were afraid of him. on the left, in a deep trough running towards the lake, a flock of sheep was driven along by two shepherds. wait one moment. hand me the turban. gulam wound it round my head, and then i went on foot like the rest. along the shore a young man was driving six yaks. abdul kerim and gulam went up to him while we set up the tents on the shore ( , feet). after a while they returned with the yak-driver, a boy of fourteen in a large white skin hood. he was terribly frightened, and could with difficulty be persuaded to come to our tents; our intention was that he should guide two of our men to his dwelling. he called the lake lumbur-ringmo. as my disguise was now complete, i went to look at the boy, who did not seem at all suspicious. lobsang and tubges followed the boy to his tent, and after a long time returned with unwelcome news. two tibetans had rushed out of the tent, stopped them, and asked roughly what they wanted. they replied very quietly that they wished to buy food; but there was nothing of the kind for sale. "but who are you?" an elderly man asked. "we are ladakis in the service of a merchant, and we are on the way to saka-dzong," they answered. "no," the tibetan exclaimed; "you lie. no merchant travels this way, least of all in winter; there is no trade in chang-tang." "we are not trading," lobsang replied; "we are commissioned to inquire how much sheep's wool can be bought up next summer." "sheep's wool--in uninhabited districts! no; you are servants of a european, who keeps himself out of sight in one of your tents. out with the truth, or it will be bad for you." "ask the boy here," returned lobsang in his most innocent tone, "if he saw any european in our tent. we abhor europeans as heartily as you. if you doubt us, you can come to our tents and see for yourself." "no, thank you; we will not come to your tent," the old man answered, and disappeared with his people behind the black hangings. lobsang was very serious when he came back, and proposed that, if we had not already come to a standstill, we should in future set up our camp as far as possible from the nomads. i was alarmed, and i had a feeling that we should not advance much farther into the forbidden land. it was also disappointing to be so openly suspected to be a european. now good advice was precious, for evidently the nomads would betray us to the nearest authorities. at the evening's lesson in tibetan, which occupied some hours, i discussed the situation with lobsang and kutus. it was resolved that abdul kerim should go early in the morning to the tent, and if the nomads were still hostile we would try to lengthen our day's march so as to get out of the way of a probable summons to stop. this time lobsang met with a better reception, as he could present our chief and leader, whom the nomads correctly addressed as _bombo_. the old man introduced himself under the name of sogbarong tsering tundup--sogbarong is his home in the west, and this name is placed before his own much as anders persson i stor-gården. the old man invited his guests into his tent, took a couple of sheep's trotters, cut them in pieces with an axe, threw them into the caldron, and offered some broth to abdul kerim, saying it was the only tea he had. in the tent were five antelopes cut up, a gun, a knife, and other articles. the old man did not this time express any suspicions of us, but related that a european with a large caravan had crossed the country to the east more than a year ago. he did not suspect, of course, that that same european was hiding in one of our tents. when the messengers came back they had a fine fat sheep and a can of milk with them. this day, march , the wind was so strong that it was impossible to travel. my tent fell over and was held fast by the load of sand and stones on its folds. not a trace of the surroundings was visible, and i should have obtained no notion of country on the route. at two o'clock tsering tundup and another tibetan came to return the visit. they emerged from the mist only when they were close at hand, and a couple of men hastened to protect them from the dogs. the visit was a complete surprise, but there was nothing which could excite the least suspicion. my things were crammed into a sack, and i was disguised as usual; indeed, i had now no other clothing to put on. even if they had come and looked into my tent there would have been no danger. our guests had capacious sheepskin coats drawn up above the belt so as to form the usual protruding bag where a large part of their property is stored. they wore hoods of sheepskin and looked like samoyeds or chukchis. they stood a while and chatted with our men in the wind, but i did not hear a word, though they were standing only yards from the loophole in my tent through which i was watching them. after some hesitation, they went into abdul kerim's tent, and then the yak question was discussed. they had only six yaks, which they required for their own journeys; but if we would buy sheep, they would let us have as many as twelve, and each sheep could easily carry a fifth part of a mule's load. the offer was accepted with pleasure, and the price was fixed at rupees. then they went off through the storm and i felt safe again. the purchase was concluded on march , and the twelve sheep stood with their heads together in the shelter of the men's tent. to start on our travels was impossible, for we could not have kept our legs in such a storm. we therefore remained here another day, and the men had full occupation in sewing sacks for the sheep, arranging and weighing the loads. i was worse off, for i had nothing to do and nothing to read, but i sat and wrote tibetan notes and entered new words in my lexicon. then i heard a hasty step coming towards my tent; it was kunchuk bringing fire. a rustle, an oath, all the contents are swept out of the shovel, and the man has to crawl back to the camp-fire for more embers. so the day passes and the storm roars, and every one is weary and listless. during these stormy days our animals lay for the most part quietly in a hollow where they were sheltered from the wind. the storm kept them from grazing, and they were much enfeebled by fasting. a white mule, therefore, remained behind at lumbur-ringmo-tso when we moved off south-eastwards on march with horses, mules, and sheep, delighted that we had passed this critical point with a whole skin. freshwater springs formed a number of picturesque ice volcanoes on the shore of the small lake. before we encamped behind a projecting cliff, we met three large flocks of sheep with their shepherds. on such occasions i always went on foot. the new sheep all carried burdens, and gave invaluable help to our tired animals. they were tied up every night between the tents that they might be safe from wolves, and the yellow dog from gartok proved an excellent guard. they bleated piteously the first evening, probably distressed at leaving their native country. i was sorry for them, for they had been treated as cruelly as uncle tom, but in time they became quite accustomed to their new way of life. violent storms prevailed all day and all the following day, on which we passed two black tents. at every camp we had to take the greatest care that no pieces of paper, match-boxes, candle ends, or cigarette stumps were left lying about, for we might be sure that the tibetans dwelling near would come and search about after we had left the spot. our route took us over a low pass ( , feet). the rocks comprised weathered schists, quartzite, and granite--the last only in detached blocks. on the other side we followed a deeply excavated valley opening out on to a plain, and we were just setting up our tent by a projecting rock when two large black dogs came running towards us barking. nomads, therefore, were encamping in the neighbourhood, and we must be on our guard. abdul kerim, who always showed himself prudent and tactful in delicate negotiations, went off to a tent which stood on the other side of the rock and was inhabited by four senkor nomads who owned sheep. the chief of them was named shgoge, and sold us three sheep at rupees a head, some butter and milk. he said that the country here, around camp , was called pankur, and that we were three days' journey from the encampment of the gertse pun, or the chief of gertse. with him, however, we had nothing to do. it was to our interest to avoid as much as possible officials of all kinds, not to approach gertse or senkor in the west too closely, and not too near my route of to the east. we must steer our way through many pitfalls. just in this district we crossed the meridian of ° e., and my plan was to travel due south from the tong-tso right across the large blank space. the continual storms which had done us so much harm, were so far advantageous to us that they enabled us to cross the great wastes without being much noticed. this day all was hazy from the dust, and our neighbours' sheep, which passed my tent in long columns with shepherds and dogs, made a very curious spectacle in the dense mist. march . abdul kerim obtained two more sheep, and now we had seventeen to help the mules and horses. our intention was to increase our sheep caravan by degrees, and make ourselves independent of the other animals. we must also have a spare horse for abdul kerim, for he was our master, and it was incongruous that he should go on foot while i, a simple caravan man, rode. this day we had the storm at our back, and we travelled ½ miles over the same even, excellent ground which had made progress easier since we left lemchung-tso. we encamped at a sheepfold and enjoyed the feeling that there were no neighbours to spy on us. a sheep was slaughtered; only the worst were sacrificed for food, and were to be replaced by new ones when an opportunity presented itself. chapter lxii adventures of ourselves and puppy in nagrong on march we made another hop towards our destination. it is difficult to travel over the high plateaus of tibet in winter, and we could not march more than four hours a day. the morning was clear, but we had not gone far beyond a small lake, with its mantle of ice covered with driftsand and dust, before the storm increased in violence and made me reel in the saddle. the clouds of dust became thicker, the sandspouts were dark reddish-brown at the base, and the gusts tore up furrows in the ground like ploughshares, while frequently spiral forms were seen which could only be produced by cyclonic whirlwinds. on the left hand shimmered a lake, its surface partly white with gypsum and salt, partly streaked brown with driftsand, and with open water only in two places; it was the ghost of a lake which was doomed to disappear. two built-up fireplaces served us capitally for a camping-ground on the shore where the grazing was good. on the eastern side of the lake was a brick-red ridge of medium height, which i wished to paint in order to record the effective tones in the dust mist. i waited for the others with kutus and gulam, and we had scarcely induced a fire to burn before the storm rose at noon to a hurricane. now everything vanished--lake, ridge, all except the nearest tufts of grass. the fire was fenced in with stones and clods lest it should be blown away, sand and minute pebbles beat against my dry skin coat, and i had to cover all my face, for the skin smarted as though lashed by whip-cord, if it were exposed for a second to the wind. fortunately the others made their way to us. every man had to lend a hand to raise my tent. at length gulam came crawling backwards and yelled into my ear that the tent was ready. with straddling legs and all my muscles on the stretch i fought my way to it, and was glad to catch hold of a tent rope before i was blown down. at last i was under cover and could recover my breath. the tent cloth was puffed out like a balloon, and threatened every moment to burst with a report. the sand and rubbish beat upon it, producing a deafening noise. it was as dark as at twilight, and the wind roared and whined through the grass. the men tried to set up their own tent, but when the wind had overturned it twice they let it lie, weighting it with the baggage that it might not fly away. five ladakis lay in the lee of my tent rolled up like hedgehogs, and i let them come in, where they sat silent and motionless for a couple of hours. the others had crept under the ruins of their unfortunate tent. puppy and little puppy lay in a corner and kept each other warm. however, the temperature was . °, and we had not had such warmth for three months. a long and dismal evening! it was with difficulty i got a piece of bread, a cup of tea, and a piece of dried meat. we were deaf and dizzy when at length we sought repose under our rugs, while the storm continued to rage outside. i awoke to hear the same old music, and to go out to my horse was like plunging into icy-cold water. neither the sky nor the horizon was visible, and the mountains were dim shadows. with kutus and gulam i led the way, following a path trodden by men. dark, chill, and doleful was the land of eternal twilight, frost, and the wicked demons of the air. after a march of miles we halted at the edge of a belt of ice, a frozen stream in several branches, which ran to the south-west. the gale flew over the clear sheet of ice, and the red dust was swept over it like flames. with the assistance of kutus i slid over to the other side, and in the shelter of the opening of a small valley we made the usual fire. the caravan came to the edge of the ice. it was impossible to sand a path, for the grains would have been swept away. the animals were led across singly, each helped over by several men. for all that a mule fell and gave a fearful wrench to one of its hind legs, and with great difficulty it was helped up to the camp. all of us had grey distorted faces, our eyes ran, full of sand and dust. my lips bled and my teeth were black. march is the worst month, but we had never experienced such bad weather before. what is the use of looking forward to spring when the days are darker as time goes on? the injured mule had evidently dislocated its leg. it was thrown down and a rope was fastened round its hoof and the end was pulled by the men. when it was at full stretch lobsang hit the rope hard with a tent-pole in order to set the dislocated joint in place again, but i could not perceive that the operation had any effect. no; the mule was lost to us just when we could ill afford to lose one of our best animals. and it was lost indeed, for on the morning of march it could not take a step. it was sad to pass the death sentence, and a pitiful sight when the fresh warm blood spurted out in powerful jets and moistened the barren soil. it lay quiet and patiently, and after a few convulsions expired, and was left in solitude when we moved on over the dreary waste. but before starting i had ascended a hill and looked around. which was more expedient--to travel north-east or south-west? both directions lay out of our course. i decided for the south-west, and hastened down to my tent, where gulam served up breakfast. brown puppy and little puppy gave me their company to get their share. little puppy had grown so much that he could do what he liked with his mother. when i gave her a piece of meat the young one flew upon her and took it away. i had to hold little puppy that his mother might eat in peace. when we set out, puppy and the yellow dog remained behind with the slaughtered mule, finding a convenient point of departure in an open wound in the soft muscles of the neck. there they stood gorging when we started along the ice-belt of the stream towards the south-west. with my usual followers i rode in advance. the suffocating, blinding, deafening storm was right in our faces. gulam walked in front, stopped, looked through the field-glass, and gave me the sign to dismount. the stream swept round the foot of a cliff in front of us. "what is it?" i asked gulam when we came up to him. "a large stone house with a wall and a couple of smaller huts. they are not visible at this moment because of the mist, but they lie close to the foot of the mountain." "yes; now they can be seen. it is strange that no dogs rush at us." "what is to be done? shall we turn back? surely a chieftain lives here, and he will come and search us down to the skin." "no; it is too late, for we must have been seen already." how i regretted that we had not travelled to the north-east! but we must put on a good face in our unlucky situation. we passed the village at a distance of yards, and halted in the shelter of the dark porphyry crag crowned by two _chhortens_ and a _mani_. at least it was pleasant to get shelter for a moment. it was like taking refuge in a gateway when it pours. all around was dead and dreary; no one was seen; only a couple of jackdaws croaked, and a hare sped out of its form so near us that we could have caught it with the hand if we had been alert. kutus and gulam went out to gather fuel. i searched the suspicious neighbourhood with the field-glass, where treachery seemed to lurk behind every projection. it cleared a little towards the south-east, enough for me to detect a black tent of unusual size about yards off. four strings with prayer-streamers were stretched out from a high pole. i had been in hopes that we should get past the first dwellings, as no dogs had shown themselves, but i had never heard of an uninhabited tent. and the outward appearance of this tent indicated the presence of an important chief. thanks to the mist, we had stumbled right on to his camp, and he would not be caught napping by poor strolling ladakis. gulam had been to the large house, the yard door of which stood open, and had found in a shed a large quantity of fuel of a kind of shrub the tibetans call _ombo_. so we waited and waited, expecting to see the caravan emerge from the mist, but when nothing was heard of it kutus went out to search. it had wandered quite out of its course, and had made a long circuit round the house and tent, for the leaders were convinced that i wished to slip by unnoticed. a horse had fallen, and now we had only two left, and mules out of animals. the three tents were set up in a line close together, and abdul kerim went with kunchuk to the large tent. we saw through the mist that a man came out to meet them, and that all three went into the tent, and then we waited with our hearts in our mouths. the men returned at dusk with good news. the tent was inhabited by a lonely old amchi-lama, _i.e._ a monk-doctor, who at the same time looked after the souls of the nagrong nomads, determined from astrological books the lucky and unlucky days for baptisms and other affairs, and assisted people with the same remedies when they were sick, died, and finally were buried. he was from sera in lhasa, and had lived three years in nagrong. the tent was a movable temple, furnished inside with altars, burning butter lamps, and votive bowls, where the hermit performed service--we heard him beating a temple drum at midnight. it belonged, as well as the large house, to the gertse pun bombo, or the chief of the gertse district, who a few days before had gone off a day's journey to the east, with his flocks, children, and all, but was soon expected back in consequence of a dispute between two of his subjects. perhaps, after all, it was well we travelled south-west instead of north-east, for we might have fallen into the jaws of the gertse pun himself. this potentate comes to nagrong in late summer and takes up his abode in the stone house, while a hundred nomad tents are set up around and a fair is held. the old lama had no servants, but every third day a man came to bring him wood. he must find it dull in the long winter evenings, when he hears the storm roaring outside, and silence reigns within around the gods who answer his prayers and the rolls of his drum with a smile of reconciliation. but probably he is a philosopher and has no fear of the dangers of the night. in his tent lay several sacks full of _tsamba_, barley, rice, and butter, but he had no authority to sell anything without the permission of the gertse pun. instead, he pointed out where the tent of the pun's brother-in-law stood, where all kinds of prime goods could be bought. we therefore decided to remain where we were over march , and abdul kerim with three attendants sought out the brother-in-law, met with a friendly reception, and bought five sheep and two goats, besides two sheep-loads of rice and as much barley, and also a bag of tobacco, which the men had long wanted. all day long i was a prisoner in my tent; my period of freedom was over. and when the evening came and enveloped the dreary nagrong valley in its shadows, i could think of nothing else but my old trusty comrade, the oldest of all that had been with me in tibet, brown puppy. in the company of the yellow dog she had remained in the morning with the mule which had dislocated its leg, and i had seen nothing of her since. we had hoped, however, that she would find us again, as she had so often done before, but now we were convinced that she had lost our trail, and, desperate and crazy with anxiety, was seeking for us over hill and dale, only to wander farther and farther from the right direction. it was useless to send men after her, and it was not advisable to divide our small party at such a critical time. the dogs had remained a long time tearing at the mule's neck, and when at last they were satiated they had started to follow us and had lost our track in the terrible wind and sand clouds. if they once crossed over ice they would never find our track again. now thoughts of my old tent companion worried me more than anything else. only that very morning she had lain on her felt rug in the usual corner, and we had breakfasted together. where was she? what was she doing at this moment? day and night she would run barking and whining over desolate chang-tang with her nose to the ground, searching for our track till her paws were torn and painful. what would she do when night came down with its dreadful darkness and its prowling wolves? were the dogs keeping together, or were they seeking us along different paths, having lost each other? would puppy some time find a home with friendly nomads and lead a comfortable life again, or would she come to want and be tied outside a poor tent, and, pining in hopeless sorrow, remember her past life, which, from when she lapped milk in my room at srinagar, had been spent in my caravan? i was never to receive an answer to these questions, for the parts she and the yellow dog played in our romance were ended. for the future her life would shape itself differently, but i was never to gain any knowledge of the remaining chapters of her existence. i lay awake at night thinking of her misfortune, and looked every morning to see if perchance she had come back in the night and was lying in her usual corner, and i fancied i heard her trotting outside my tent in the dusk, or thought i could distinguish the profile of a lonely half-starved dog on a mound or crag with its nose up and howling at the storm. for some time i suffered from a delusion, imagining that a shade, the restless soul, the invisible ghost of a dog followed me wherever i went. i felt the presence of an invisible dog which followed me into my tent, and among the tibetans, and always whined and pleaded for help, and i was worried that i could give no help or consolation to my lost, wandering friend. but soon we had other things to think of, other dogs became my friends, and we were daily entangled in a skein of troubles which must lead to a crisis, and the cares of the past paled before the gravity of the moment. [illustration: . the author as a shepherd.] march . such a day as this is interesting to look back on, but it was hard and cruel as long as it lasted. before six o'clock i was awakened with the disquieting information that two tibetans were approaching our tents. i made haste to dress myself and paint my face and hands black with a thin coating. meanwhile the strangers arrived and were invited into abdul kerim's tent, where i heard them talking pleasantly about sheep and money--so they were not spies; our time had not yet come. one of the guests was the brother-in-law, the other a neighbour of his, who, when he heard what a good price we paid for sheep, said he was ready to sell us four he had brought with him, as well as a lively goat. abdul kerim had received a general order to buy all the sheep he could procure, so he took them. the goat was, as has been said, a lively beast, and he ran off at once and could not be caught again. the two tibetans went off to the lama's tent to drink tea, but the critical time was not yet over, for probably they would return to see us start. therefore, while the tents were still standing, i set out with tubges, little kunchuk, and "snoring kunchuk," as we called sonam kunchuk on account of his terrible timber-sawing propensities, when they drove our thirty-one sheep down the valley. as we went off the tibetans came out and watched us, but did not suspect anything wrong. to escape detection i had hurriedly turned to sheep-driving (illust. ), but i soon found that i had no natural aptitude for this occupation, so invigorating, but so trying to the patience. i fancied i imitated my ladakis as closely as possible, whistled and shouted in the same way, and threw out my arms when a sheep left the crowd, but the animals showed me not the least obedience, but went where they liked when i was near. after an hour's walk in the teeth of the wind i had had enough, and while the other shepherds went on with the sheep, kunchuk and i stayed in a cranny out of sight of the lama's tent, while i could look over all the valley. at length the other men came with abdul kerim riding at their head. our coats and turbans were of the same colour, so that any tibetans who happened to be watching could not tell if it were abdul kerim or i that was riding. i now took my horse and went on in front with my usual companions. at eleven o'clock the storm rose to a furious pitch and dashed in our faces. driftsand swept over the ground in dense masses; we were nearly suffocated, and we seemed to stand still while the country moved past us at a giddy pace. we crossed the valley in order to follow its western flank. the clouds of dust obscured the sun; nothing could be seen beyond a distance of yards; chaos surrounded us. we stopped to get our breath, and lest we should miss the others, but as soon as they appeared like phantoms in the mist we set off again. i have experienced many sandstorms in takla-makan and the lob-nor desert, but hardly any so bad as this was. in turkestan one simply encamps when a storm comes on, but what is the use of encamping to await the end of a storm which lasts thirty days? we strayed among small dunes, and, though the valley fell in the direction we were travelling, we seemed as though we were mounting to a lofty pass in consequence of the pressure of the storm. the driftsand rattled against my dry, hard coat, which, from the constant friction, became heavily charged with electricity. about every other minute there was a discharge, and i felt uncomfortable and often painful prickings, especially in the soles of the feet, the hands, and knees. at every such discharge the horse also pulled up and became nervous. at last, when my grey tikze horse refused to go further, and we had quite lost sight of the others, and could not see where we were going, we came to a halt and huddled together with our backs to the wind. the electrical discharges continued even now, but were weaker. if i placed the tip of a finger near gulam's or kutus' hand a small electric spark was felt and seen, and both of us felt the shock. the men were exceedingly astonished, and hoped it was not witchcraft. we sat waiting for three hours, and were prepared for an uncomfortable night. but kutus came upon the other men just when they were giving up all attempt to find us before night. we encamped among the dunes, and before long all articles which were set out in my tent vanished under a thick layer of sand. on the morning of the th the storm had somewhat abated; and, wearied and stiff after our experiences of the previous night, we continued our journey southwards and encamped at a deserted sheepfold. by nine o'clock compact sandspouts twisted slowly over the plain like spectres, so the storm was again at its usual height. we had _tsamba_ for only one day, but it did not count for much as long as we had such a good supply of meat. we were glad to get out of reach of the gertse pun; in this drifting sand it was impossible to find our trail--yes, even for our own dogs. little puppy did not miss his mother, but felt very important at being sole master on the ground, and barked at our sober sheep. it was, however, a serious matter for us that we were deprived of our night-watch in districts where we had most need of them. we must try to procure fresh dogs as soon as possible. on march the th we marched the usual weary ½ miles to the east-south-east through a fine, broad, longitudinal valley, and pitched our camp in a hollow full of rubbish. our three tents were now always placed close together, so that, if any stranger came unexpectedly to my tent, i could crawl into abdul kerim's without being seen from outside. my ladak _chapkan_ began to assume a more satisfactory colour, but we still did all we could to defile it and make it sooty and greasy. little puppy lent me his assistance by biting and tearing the sleeves so that they hung in rags. it would not be long before i had the appearance of a regular ruffian. it snowed heavily all night, and in the morning the snow lay so deep, and the country was so thickly covered, that we thought it best to remain stationary. we were still farther removed from brown puppy, and it was vain for her to seek our trail. perhaps it was providential that both she and the white horse were lost before they could betray us. tibetans have wonderfully sharp eyes for animals, and recognize them again when they have seen them only once. now the danger was over, for all the veterans had gone. perhaps puppy sacrificed herself that i might be successful! all the same, i seemed to see her wandering disconsolate and distressed about the desolate wastes in the north. chapter lxiii through the highlands of bongba when i awake to another day of uncertain fortune and adventures life seems gloomy and solitary, and the longer the time the more i long for an end of my difficulties. when gulam awoke me on the th, he complained that abdul kerim did not keep the watch i had given him in order; either the watch or the caravan leader was at fault, but he believed it was the latter, for the watch could not be blamed if it were wound up only every other day. gulam affirmed that when abdul kerim was asked what o'clock it was, he always answered seven, whatever time it might be in the twenty-four hours. the thermometer fell to - ° in the night, but the day was fine. the wind blew as usual, but the sun came out and we thought of spring again. three shepherds were taking some hundreds of sheep to the west, which had been driven off from their pasturage by the recent snow and were looking for uncovered land. we were only a day's journey from the tong-tso ( , feet), they said, and the tong-tso was the point from which we were to start southwards to traverse unknown country. if i succeeded in crossing it only by a single route, all the troubles of the past winter would not have been in vain. the shepherds' information was correct, for the next day we bivouacked on the western shore of the tong-tso, which we found exactly at the place where the immortal pundit, nain sing, inserted it on his map. to the south-east towered the huge massive sha-kangsham, along the northern foot of which i had ridden in . now we had to find a convenient pass over the mountain which barred our way to the south. a gap was seen to the south-east, and we directed our steps towards it. on our right, two tents stood at the foot of a hill, and abdul kerim was sent to them while we encamped in a deep narrow ravine, at the bottom of which we found a large quantity of wind-driven kiang dung and dry tufts of grass. on his return, our good leader reported that he was rudely received by two men, named nakchu tundup and nakchu hlundup, who came from the district nakchu, three days' journey distant to the south, and had a wife in common. they first asked how many we were and how many guns we had, just as though they wished to know whether they and their neighbours might venture to attack us. they then said that they had seen a man riding at the head of our party, while all the rest, abdul kerim included, went on foot, and that it was not hard to guess that the mounted man was a european. when abdul kerim replied that no europeans travel in winter, for they are too much afraid of the cold, and that we were only wool-buyers from ladak, the tibetans shook their heads and answered that they had never heard of ladakis travelling in this country in winter. but, nevertheless, abdul succeeded in gaining their confidence, and when he had paid double the market price for two yaks and six sheep, the tibetans forgot their suspicions, all for the sake of filthy lucre. the purchase was to be completed the following morning. then the new animals were fetched, and their carrying power was a welcome assistance to our animals. fortunately, the nomads had in general the greatest respect for our tents. it was important for us to make liberal bargains with men who at first had been hostile to us. on the other hand, they often abstained from betraying us, even if they had suspicions, for if it were known that they had been well paid, the nearest chief would confiscate their receipts and would also punish the unfortunate men who had dared to traffic with suspected individuals. during the day's march i rode in front as usual, with my two companions on foot. a tent lay concealed behind a cliff, and we did not notice it until we were some way past it, and then it was too late to dismount. two fellows were outside and looked after us, and if they compared notes with their neighbours they would have good cause for suspicion. at our camp that day we had a visit from an old man and two young people, who had their tent near and came to see what kind of men we were. they said that they were very poor, and begged for some coppers. we were on the border of the district bongba-changma, which contains tents, and, like the whole province of bongba, is subject to the governor karma puntso, whose tent stood at a distance of six days' journey to the south. he was a man of twenty-five years of age, lived in a large tent, and had been in office only a year, since his father died. it was assuring to know that he could have no experience of europeans and their crafty ways. after the strangers had received a couple of _tengas_ from abdul kerim, they went home again in the rays of the evening sun, delighted to find that we were not robbers. then the temperature fell to - °; the winter was remarkably trying, but the day, march , was still fine, and i travelled all the way on foot, driving the sheep while we were passing several tents. among them was that of our old man of the day before, and he proved to be a man of property, who sold us various much-needed articles of food. on the way tubges shot seven partridges, whereupon two tibetans came forward and protested, saying that only europeans shot partridges. abdul kerim assured them that he preferred partridges to mutton. again there was talk of karma puntso. perhaps it would be better to choose another way. no; then the governor would be still more suspicious. we encamped on the northern side of a small pass, where we had no troublesome neighbours. march . breakfast, a delicate partridge and a cup of tea, was just over when it was announced that three tibetans were coming up to our tents. but they stopped at a respectful distance, and abdul kerim went up to them. my tent was opened in this direction, but was closed again just in time. the tibetans' errand was to ask if we had any medicine suitable for a man who had a pain in the foot. in reality, their object was to spy upon us when we set out, for they stayed all the time and looked about. after my hands and face had been coloured black, i stole by the secret passage into abdul kerim's tent, while kutus and gulam crawled by the same way into mine to pack up. then i went with lobsang and kutus, and drove the sheep up the track leading to the pass ( , feet). we had not gone far when abdul kerim came riding on my horse and made frantic gestures to us to stop. a tibetan horseman, followed by a big dog, would meet us in a few moments on the path. we therefore took a roundabout way among hillocks, while the caravan encountered the tibetan. in this way we escaped the danger. soon came kunchuk and sedik, leading the dog with a rope on either side--a savage brute, which barked till he foamed at the mouth, and tried to bite those who were taking him away from his master. he was of the species called _takkar_, and takkar was his name. he reminded me of a st. bernard; he was coal black, with a white patch on the chest and neck, and was as savage as a wolf. they had bought him for rupees. moreover, abdul kerim had also bought the rider's horse for rupees, and he came jogging cheerfully after us as we rode down from the summit of the pass to a longitudinal valley abounding in tents and herds of sheep and yaks, and at two spots were seen mounted men, who looked uncomfortably like a levy. the new horse was eleven years old, the owner said, and if he passed well over his fifteenth year, he would live to thirty--but we did not want him so long. he was a new member of our troop and excited general interest, and takkar became quieter when he saw an old friend and comrade in misfortune. at the camp we had to be careful, for nomads dwelt near and shepherds wandered with their flocks on the slopes around. to prevent takkar from running away he was tied by the neck to a tent pole, an operation by no means easy. he was tied fast with ropes, his legs were fettered, and a felt mat was thrown over him, on which four men sat while the others made him fast to the pole. immediately he was let loose he rushed at those nearest him, but was held back by the pole. it was a sin to drag him from home against his will; he was another uncle tom who suffered for our sake, but i hoped that we should soon understand each other. to console him in his captivity he was given the blood and entrails of the slaughtered sheep. we crossed another small pass ( , feet) on the th, and the insignificant lake shar-tso, where a fine spring bubbles up out of the ground by the shore. from a couple of tents to the west we bought tea, butter, and _tsamba_ sufficient for several days, and heard again about karma puntso. this time it was said that he lived three days to the west, and we hoped to slip past without any disturbance. the country about camp is called luma-shar, and we stayed on the northern bank of the large river kangsham-tsangpo, which comes from the northern flank of sha-kangsham, the huge massive which i left to the south of my route in , and which showed us a magnificent view of its western side. the mountain lay about a couple of days' journey to the south-east. the next day we were to cross the river, an exceedingly unpleasant business; for though there had been degrees of frost in the night the ice, except close to the bank, would not bear. abdul made an attempt with his horse, but the animal came down on his nose in the middle of the river. then lobsang took off his boots and went across the river barefooted, and came back again to help in conducting our pack animals gently and firmly across. to get the sheep over was the worst difficulty; they had to be pushed and pulled by the horns, one at a time. almost all the men of the caravan got a refreshing bath in the stream (illust. ). on the other side we ascended to a small pass where there was a splendid view over the ridge, which seemed to run west-south-west from sha-kangsham and which barred our way to the south. abdul kerim, kunchuk, and sedik went with an exhausted mule to a few tents standing to the right of our route, with the object of bartering the worn-out beast for a couple of sheep, but the nomads said they would not take it as a gift. instead, our men bought rice, sour milk, butter, salt, and a sheep, so that we were provided for some days. from the camp also abdul kerim took a long walk to some tents in the neighbourhood. now poor abdul kerim had to do penance for his sins, and if he had erred in taking too little barley from ladak, he made up for it by his conduct on this adventurous journey. from camp the highest peak of sha-kangsham lay south, ° e. (illust. ). takkar is still irreconcilable, and heartily detests kunchuk who bought him. but he also barks at us as soon as we show ourselves outside the tents. on the march he is resigned as long as he is near our new horse, but at other times he is savage. the only one that dares go near him is little puppy, who teases and sports with him and bites his ears. takkar treats little puppy with supreme contempt, and only when the young one presumes to snatch his new uncle's food he growls angrily, but then little puppy pricks up his ears, puts his head on one side, and looks at him. he little thought that the new dog could have bitten off his head like a chicken's if he had wished. in reality, takkar was glad to have a playfellow in his captivity, though at first he held himself aloof to maintain his dignity. the next morning lobsang and tubges went back to the nomads' tent and returned with three more sheep, a lump of butter, and a bag of tobacco. their appetites were wonderful to behold. the others had left for them half a pot of tea mixed with butter, thick and red. one cup disappeared after another, and they emptied the pot to the last drop. then they took some meat out, which they ate up like wild beasts. what was left they stuffed into their waistbelts, to have it handy in case they were hungry before we reached the next camp. we continued on our way to the south, passing on our left hand an open plain which extended up to the foot of the skirts of sha-kangsham. we passed tents and flocks at one or two places, and encamped on a hill of loose material beside a spring. the nomads around had nothing to sell, but gave abdul kerim much valuable information. on such occasions kunchuk used to sit and secretly note down all the geographical names. among other details we now heard that if we held on our journey to the south for seven days we should fall in with a rich merchant from lhasa, named tsongpun tashi, who was wont to take up his quarters in winter in the heart of the bongba province to sell tea to the nomads. we might be certain that if we came into the neighbourhood of his camp we should again be in a critical situation. now lobsang and two weather-beaten ladakis complained that they slept badly, because it was too warm in the tent. the former wore a set of underclothes, and above only a garment of thin woollen material. in this costume he had travelled all the way from drugub, and slept in degrees of frost with only a couple of sacks over him, for he had sold his skin coat to one of his comrades at the commencement of the journey. only a tibetan can survive such an experience. on march we struggled up to the chaklam-la, which we also heard called amchen-la. the path up to it is steep, and we moved exceedingly slowly up the ascent. the sheep and the two yaks beat us hollow. from the last tent the path was visible all the way up to the pass, so i was obliged to travel on foot, and i might have collapsed from palpitation of the heart and loss of breath if lobsang had not gone behind and pushed me. the lives of two mules had been ebbing away during the previous days, so the animals were left where nomads could take possession of them. a black horse was also giving in, and the newly bought one had to take over his load. my grey horse was no longer worth much. chaklam-la, with its , feet, was a heavy trial to us, and i was not delighted with the view which unrolled itself to the south--a labyrinth of mountains, where it was plain to see that the ranges all stretched from east to west. from the pass there is a steep descent to the river sangchen-chu, which flows westwards. we encamped on its bank. now takkar was becoming resigned to his fate. he was certainly annoyed at being tied to the pole, but he found that he got good and plentiful food and that we were kind to him. he barked only at kunchuk, whom he could never forgive. when we broke up our camp on march , we hesitated whether we should make for the south-west or south-east, for high mountains rose to the south. if we went south-westwards we should come too near to karma puntso, and so we chose the south-easterly route. we had first to cross the ice of the river, yards broad, where a path was sanded. the sheep had to be dragged over one by one by the horns, and the yaks would not venture on the ice till they saw that it bore the horses and mules. gulam went first on foot, and had the usual order to give a sign if he saw a tent or shepherds. we had not gone far when he stretched out his left hand, which meant that i must dismount and go on foot while abdul kerim rode my horse. it was only a shepherd with his flock. as soon as the danger was past i exchanged places with the caravan leader. a little farther on i found that i had lost my cigarette case, which also contained some unmounted family portraits and one or two pieces of sticking-plaster. it would be terrible if a tibetan found it. only a european could own such a thing. lobsang and kutus went back and searched along the track while i lay and waited on a bank. they found the case, and each received a cigarette as a reward, and we sat and smoked while abdul kerim with kunchuk and tubges went down to a tent, where there were only women, and bought some provisions. at the camp in the evening snow fell, and at night the thermometer sank to zero. now we had only sheep left, and we must try to increase our flock, or, still better, buy a dozen horses. in this region, and in bongba generally, it was difficult to buy sheep. everywhere the nomads complained that their flocks had been decimated by the cold, wind, and snow, and the pasturage was unusually poor, because the rains had failed at the end of the preceding summer. sheep-breeding is their means of subsistence, and if they lose their flocks they are impoverished and can do nothing but wander about begging from more fortunate people. they have therefore a decided objection to diminish their flocks by artificial means, as we may say; the flocks must fluctuate, increasing in good times and diminishing in bad, but they must not be reduced by sale. therefore they often refuse to sell even at double the proper price. still harder was it to buy horses in bongba. in the night our animals wandered back to the former camp. while lobsang and kutus went after them most of the day slipped by, and therefore we remained at camp . kunchuk and tubges spied a tent in a valley to the south, where they bought rice, barley, _tsamba_, milk, and _chura_--a kind of cheese, so that we had food for several days. thus we got our livelihood in small portions, bit by bit and from tent to tent. our own flock had now shrunk to head, all carrying burdens. a solitary wild-goose flew screaming over our camp. had he got lost, or was he a scout sent out to see if the ice were broken up on the lakes to the north? doubtless he would soon return to his tribe and make his report. it seemed to me that he had been despatched too soon. from february to march we had traversed only miles, owing to the cutting storm, loss of animals, and now at length the difficult country. we now seldom made a day's march of as much as miles. it is most irritating that a tent, like a sentinel-box or a spying eye, always stands at the northern foot of a pass, so that i have to walk all the way. this day also, when we crept up to the sanchen-la, a small shelter stood on the saddle, , feet high. southwards there were still more mountains. at a distance of to miles north, ° e., rose the highest peak of sha-kangsham, a fine sight in the beautiful weather, when not a cloud obstructed the view. five ovis ammons careered in nimble and elastic springs over the heights, and small agile goa antelopes leaped along the southern slope, where we scrambled down among detritus. the pantholops antelope is not seen in this region. close to where we encamped at nema-tok was a tent, and the inmates sold us a sheep's load of rice. an old man, whom my fellows called familiarly _ava_ or father, came to look at our black horse which we wished to sell, as it could evidently not travel much farther. but the old man said he would not give a rap for the horse. he informed us that in nine days nomads from all quarters would repair to the place where karma puntso dwelt, to buy tea and pay their taxes to the government. tsongpun tashi was a powerful and influential man, he said. we drew near to this potentate with a feeling of uneasiness and growing respect. he enjoys peculiar privileges from the devashung. he sells tea to the nomads on credit. when they sell their sheep's wool in summer at the _tasam_ they pay their debts to him in _tengas_ or in goods. tsongpun tashi makes a good profit on these transactions, and therefore it is to his interest to stand well with the devashung. if he, who must have the reputation of being more intelligent and sensible than the simple nomads, were to let us pass by with impunity, he would have to answer for it to the devashung and would lose his privileges. we were therefore evidently coming to a most critical moment. nothing venture, nothing have! if i would explore the blank space in the heart of which i now found myself, i must expose myself to various annoyances and run great risks. for a moderately intelligent man it could be no particular pleasure to go on foot through desolate wastes like a vagabond, and drive a flock of refractory sheep. i was already thoroughly weary of this work, for i had no talent or training to perform it properly. i had to paint myself black every morning like a negro, and i sat with a brush before the looking-glass, smearing my face three times over to produce an evenly dark complexion. my eyes were concealed with a pair of large round tibetan spectacles with my own polished glasses fixed inside. this time i was much more carefully disguised than in , when i tried to get through to lhasa as a mongol, but was held fast in the strong claws of kamba bombo. my turban was too white, so it was dipped in a dye of boiled butter and ashes, and became at once quite shabby. my soft leather boots were in holes, so that the toes came out. it was well that i ran no risk of meeting acquaintances from stockholm or london. this journey was painful and trying to the nerves. day and night i lived in the greatest anxiety lest i should be discovered and ignominiously unmasked. the farther we advanced southwards the more i was troubled by this apprehension. should we succeed, or should we be forced back when we had traversed only half the distance across the blank space? should i never cross the trans-himalaya again? at every stage our watchfulness and cautiousness increased, and also the tension of our nerves. i must always be on my guard and never hold a cigarette in my hand when we were on the march. my map sheets and compass i thrust into my bosom to be near at hand. when i collected a rock specimen, took a bearing with the compass, or made a drawing near a tent, lobsang had to screen me, and he became astonishingly adept at this game. the sun i could observe only when we were quite sure that no tibetan could see the instrument. sometimes i sat and drew a panorama through a peephole in the tent cloth. the sheep were my refuge, and with them i set out first, and had not to take part in the packing and loading, and i was spared from watching the animals at night, as in . in both cases i was practically a prisoner in my tent, where the evening hours seemed very long. nothing is so trying and irritating to the mind as this anxiety in which i lived, travelling in disguise, and expecting any moment to come to a crisis in my fate. chapter lxiv tsongpun tashi march . nearly - ° in the night--still winter. but at one o'clock the temperature rose to ½°--spring was coming. an old man sold us four sheep in the morning, and then prowled about our tents. he could not at all understand why we had come hither, especially at this season, but abdul kerim told him that when we left tok-jalung the most severe cold was over. this was a new story we had invented, because it was more probable than the former, and would pass better in the southern parts of the country. here, also, stood the usual tent with a view up to the pass, and i was obliged to go on foot up to the summit of the ladung-la with its , feet. but here the view was encouraging; we had level or declining ground before us for four days. the descent from the pass to the south was precipitous, and we stumbled and slid through the rubbish, which rattled down behind us, and i had the satisfaction of ruining my boots and clothes more than ever. the valley turned off to the right, south-west, and in the janglung district, where we encamped, a young shepherd informed us that we should come to tsongpun tashi's tent next day. numerous springs bubbled up from the valley bottom and formed a little clear brook full of fish between grassy swards. here some of us halted and used kutus's girdle as a net. at the first haul we caught fish, and we did not cease till we had --not large ones, but quite sufficient to feed all thirteen of us. it was amusing to see little puppy as he stood watching attentively and regarding the sprawling fishes, barking and shaking his head. he had never in his life seen running water before, and must have supposed that he could walk upon it as safely as on clear ice. quite unsuspiciously he jumped down from the grass, where the brook was feet deep, and entirely disappeared under the water. when he had, with much difficulty, struggled up again, he was much amazed and disconcerted, and prowled about growling with displeasure at the cold bath. after that he kept far away from the deceitful brook. march . now we saw that we could trust takkar, so we let him loose. he did not run away, but was in the best of tempers, and flew like an arrow over the slopes, enjoying his freedom, and played with little puppy, who became furious when the huge brute came racing down on him with playful leaps, so that he rolled over and over on the ground. abdul kerim was to go on the new horse with the ladaki saddle, accompanied by two men, to look out for tsongpun tashi. he had plenty of money to buy anything he might find, and in reply to searching questions he was to say that we had orders from gulam razul to meet one of his caravans in raga-tasam, which in about ten days was to leave lhasa, and then accompany it to ladak. i had to ride my grey horse barebacked, but i had not got far before we passed two tents, where four tibetans came out to look at us. two of our men went and talked to them while the rest of us followed the brook through the valley. a little further and we had to be careful again, for there were three more tents and two large flocks, the owner of which possessed sheep. sheepfolds, old camping-places, and _manis_ were all around, for we were on a great highway, and therefore i kept close to the sheep, and whistled and shouted at them. at the mouth of a side valley, on the left, stood a large white tent with blue borders, which was said to belong to the chief of the district, the gova chykying. a man came out of the tent, hurried after us, and asked whence we came and whither we were going. two women came out of a tent inhabited by beggars, and put the same questions. a mile or so farther we were out of sight of tents, and i jumped on my grey horse, but i could not ride far, for more tents appeared farther down the valley. we encamped by the side of the brook in the kung-sherya country, where the valley is very broad and open, and tents are seen in many directions. from one of these, which stood below ours, a man came and made inquiries. he said that one of the tents, which looked large and important, belonged to takyung lama, abbot of mendong-gompa, a monastery three days' journey to the south-east. now we were in a warm corner, with the district chief, a high lama, and tsongpun tashi as near neighbours, and the governor of the great province of bongba not far off. it would be a marvel if we succeeded in making our way out of this wasps' nest. one thing was certain, that we must make off next morning, before news of our arrival had spread about. after we had waited several hours abdul kerim came. we could see at a long distance that he had bought a horse, which was laden with sacks and bags containing rice, barley, butter, and _tsamba_. tsongpun tashi proved to be an old man of a poverty-stricken and mean appearance, but his large tent was full of goods, sacks, and packets of tea, and his movable shop was very well stocked. naturally he was much surprised at the visit, but he swallowed the story that abdul kerim dished up for him. he had even given him the names of all the places where we ought to camp on the way to saka-dzong and raga-tasam, and advised us to be well on our guard in a district he called bupgo-lathit, where there were always robbers. he related that a band of robbers had, a few weeks before, attacked and plundered targyaling-gompa, the monastery where we had met with such a hostile reception in june of the preceding year. forty men with horses and guns had been levied to chase the band, but tsongpun tashi said that these forty men were little better than robbers themselves, and that we ought to inquire about them, so as to avoid them as they returned. abdul kerim promised tsongpun tashi to barter our sick black horse for some provisions, but abdul kerim did not know that abdullah had already exchanged the horse at the beggars' tent for two sheep and a goat. there the faithful horse would see happy days again when the grass grew up. after abdul kerim had drunk tea he went on to visit the gova chykying, who came out of his tent and said that takyung lama had that very day imposed on him eight days' _yangguk_--that means that he must not transact any kind of business, but must devote himself entirely, on account of his sins, to contemplation in his own house. that was fine for us; the gova was reduced to a negligible quantity. march . temperature ° in the night, and ° at seven o'clock--this is spring. welcome mild salubrious breezes, come to thaw our frozen joints! early in the morning came a couple of our men tramping along with another dog, light yellow, dirty, and loathsome. he was inhospitably received by takkar, who immediately gave him a sharp pinch in the neck, and seemed to think that the new member of the caravan was quite superfluous as long as he kept watch himself. far in the north a solitary tibetan appeared, and approached our camp. i was sitting at breakfast, and was hoping that we should soon leave this dangerous place. i went out and looked through the field-glass; the stranger was making straight for our tents. soon abdul kerim came and said that it was tsongpun tashi himself. he stopped at some distance and called to us to tie up our dogs, for takkar had rushed at the old man, who defended himself with stones. the men were purposely slow in fastening up the dogs, in order to give me time to put the interior of my tent in order. on such occasions my note-books and instruments were crammed into a rice sack, which always stood ready. there was no other furniture, for we had burned all european articles and boxes long before. meanwhile, abdul kerim conducted tsongpun tashi into his tent, which stood close against mine, and i listened to their conversation at a distance of little more than a yard. by degrees the talk became, to say the least of it, lively. tsongpun tashi raised his voice more and more, and abdul kerim was evidently in a serious dilemma. "did you not promise to give me the black horse in exchange for butter? bring the horse immediately. if you do not keep your word, i will detain the whole pack of you here. we do not let men that break their word escape in bongba. i thought yesterday that you were honest men, but now i see what you are up to. now i shall begin by searching your tents." with that he got up as angry as a wasp and went out. but gulam, who was always alert and never lost a word of a conversation, had let takkar loose again. as soon as tsongpun tashi showed himself at the tent door the dog flew at him again. he backed, and abdul seized the opportunity to call out in a gruff voice: "kutus, take hajji baba with you and go and look for the lost horse." "what horse is that?" asked tsongpun. "it is one of our horses which has run away up the mountain, and we cannot set out till we have found him." "what colour is he?" asked tsongpun with uncomfortable inquisitiveness. "grey," replied abdul kerim, who had difficulty in concealing his uneasiness, for it was he who had pledged the black steed without knowing whether it was still in our possession. "very well, i shall stay here till you have found the grey horse." during the minute this conversation lasted tsongpun tashi had walked towards the opening of my tent, when kutus came running up from the other side, seized me by the collar, and whispered "come." we hurried off to a crag on the north-east, and so just escaped the clutches of tsongpun. "what man is that?" the old man asked, pointing at me, as i was making off with clumsy waddling steps. "hajji baba, one of my servants," answered abdul kerim, without moving a muscle. we did not look round as we went off to the point, and were glad when at length we were hidden by a projecting rock. then we scrambled up a fissure whence we could see all around. here we lay a weary time with our hearts in our mouths, while tsongpun tashi waited for the runaway horse, which had not run away at all, for all our animals stood ready laden before our tents. but he must have lost patience. after gaffar had gone to the tent to try and get back the black horse, but met with a refusal, for the horse had been fed with barley and was getting on splendidly, tsongpun tashi seemed to make in that direction himself, accompanied by gaffar. but he changed his mind, for he turned back half-way, and soon we saw him going to the fine tent of the soul-doctor, which stood about yards farther down the valley. he was attended by one of our men, who helped him to carry the sacks in which the goods acquired the previous day were packed. we remained quiet in our hiding-place of much-weathered green schist, full of quartz veins, from which we could peep out without being seen. we were supposed to be looking for the lost horse. but now the caravan was ready, and began to move down the valley past the abbot's tent. tsongpun tashi's errand had been to take farewell of the prelate, who was setting out this day for mendong-gompa, absolutely unknown in all the maps in the world, and his yaks stood tethered and surrounded by a troop of servants. abdul kerim was shrewd enough to send no messenger after us, but leave us to take care of ourselves. and so we did when we had had enough of the green schist--we could not lie still till doomsday. but we had to pass the abbot's tent, and there sat tsongpun tashi, unless he were among the men outside. we sneaked on. kutus walked next the tent to screen me. my disguise was perfect, and i had a black face. we passed with some trepidation quite close to the tent; two savage dogs rushed at us and we threw stones at them, thereby deranging our order of march and making a change of front. confounded dogs! we had passed the tent, and, so far, had done well. but if tsongpun tashi noticed us--and he could scarcely fail to do so, for the dogs barked so furiously--he would certainly wonder in which direction the grey horse had made off. if he had no suspicion of us he must be, beyond comparison, the greatest ass that i had ever fallen in with. we made haste and soon overtook the others, and were lost among them. the valley sloped down--a fortunate thing for me, as i had to travel on foot where so many pitfalls surrounded me on all sides. abdul kerim rode grandly on my horse at the head of the party. on the left were a white-and-blue and a black tent with twenty yaks. two men hurried up to us, and abdul kerim met and spoke to them. we marched along the ice belt of the brook, and passed five more tents, and, at all, the men came out to look at us. i walked with the sheep farther from the tents than the caravan. we passed twenty tents that day; it was a dangerous stretch of country, and it was strange that we came through safely. a woman, carrying a load of wool on her back, overtook us. she was so bold as to join herself to the caravan and ask to be allowed to put her wool on one of the yaks. never have i so heartily wished a woman at the devil. abdul rasak took the woman in hand and offered to carry half her load to her tent, and so they jogged along the road far ahead, and freed us from her suspicious company. we took it for granted that she was a spy. when we encamped below a sheepfold, there she was again, established herself inside the fold, lighted a fire and fetched water. she must drink tea before she went on homewards, she said; but fortunately she toddled off before dusk. i sat in the setting sun and noted down the varied incidents of the day. i sat in the opening of my tent enjoying the soothing rustle of the spring, when what should i see but takkar himself, who came up to me anxiously and humbly, made the most expressive gestures, put his head on one side and began to paw my arm. i looked at him and he looked at me, and at last we understood each other. "i could not know," he said, "that you were nice men when you tied me by the neck to this horrible tent pole. i thought that you would tease and torment and starve me, and throw stones and dirt at me, as the tibetans have done ever since i can remember. but i see that you are well disposed towards me, and give me two good meals of mutton every day. i know that you, in spite of your rags, are a bombo-chimbo, and that abdul kerim is only a servant. be at ease, i will not let any one come near your tent; i will watch over you at night, i will never betray you, i will follow you everywhere; you may trust in me. but now come and play with me a little; take away this useless tent pole, and let us be no longer strangers." his shrewd brown eyes showed plainly that this was what he meant to say, word for word. i took his shaggy head in my arms and squeezed it. then he jumped up on me and began to dance and yelp with joy, and enticed me out of my tent. then i took hold of him again, untied the knots, and released him from his pole, to the great astonishment of my men, who were sitting in the open around a fire. no one had ever ventured so near to takkar, except little puppy, and without the slightest jealousy the little cub joined in the game, which henceforth whiled away daily a couple of hours of my weary captivity. chapter lxv buptsang-tsangpo, one of the largest rivers of the heart of tibet it was with a feeling of relief that we broke up our camp on march , after we had succeeded in extricating ourselves from the net which had so nearly held us fast in its meshes. through here runs the so-called serpun-lam, or gold-inspectors' road, which extends through the interior of tibet from lhasa to tok-jalung, and is one of the greatest high-roads of the country. we did not yet feel quite safe, but we had heard some assuring news: karma puntso had taken a journey of several days northwards to a place in chang-tang where he owned large flocks of sheep. most of the nomads in bongba had sent their sheep to the north, where the grazing was much better. this was of great advantage to us, for now only women, old men, and children remained in the tents of bongba, while most of the men were following the sheep. it was part of the trial of my patience that i could not have the slightest dealings with tibetans, for i should have betrayed myself at once by my defective utterance of the language. i never talked with them, but pulled the strings of my marionettes from my place of concealment. the wild-geese had now commenced their migrations, and we constantly heard their cries above our tents. on march we found an excellent path along the river in which we had caught fish just below ladung-la. the country was very open and flat, and we passed at some distance from twelve tents. near the last we pitched camp , and bought a black horse. we had now four horses, of which one was a veteran from ladak; now i rode the first horse we had bought--a brown one. the last three mules and the two yaks from the tsong-tso were in good condition. when we encamped near natives, takkar was tied up outside the entrance to my tent to keep off inquisitive visitors. he had been bred and reared among tibetans, and had never seen any other people in his life till lately, and yet now he became mad with rage if he saw a tibetan only at a distance. i had often to pay various sums in rupees to those of his two-legged fellow-countrymen whose unprotected legs he had bitten, and he was never contented without a slight effusion of blood. we followed the river south-south-westwards for another day's journey to camp , where some poor nomads were encamping by a sheet of snow. sha-kangsham's summit came into sight again, this time to the north, ° e., rising like a gigantic beacon above the mountains. five days' journey to the west-north-west was pointed out the salt lake, tabie-tsaka, the position of which i had sought in vain to ascertain from the _tasam_. in the afternoon when i sat outside to draw a panorama, nomads were strolling and peering about, so that i had to post watchmen. in the evening all around was pitch-dark: there was no moon, only dense clouds. our animals had disappeared, and as there was good reason to fear wolves and horse-stealers, eight men were sent out to look for them. they had revolvers, and fired a few shots to let any possible disturbers of the peace know that we were armed. the animals would not freeze, for the temperature fell in the night only to °, and in the morning they had come back again all right. the only one missing was the greyish-yellow dog; thinking, perhaps, that he had fallen into bad company, he had gnawed through his rope and run home in the night to his miserable tent. now the path runs south-south-west up to the little easy pass satsot-la ( , feet), in red porphyry and with a way-mark. in the wide valley in front of us lies the lake chunit-tso, and on its farther side rises a red mountain of regular form. we pass several _manis_, and on the right hand a miniature lake called chabuk-tso, where tubges shot two wild-geese. the honorary huntsman often supplied me with game; he was called by his comrades simply shyok, after his home, just as we call one of our acquaintances jönköping or falsterbo. we crossed a great road running to the north-west; hundreds of yaks had recently passed--no doubt a salt caravan on the way to tabie-tsaka. then we passed a circular wall, where a solitary man came out and looked at us, but retired behind the wall when he found that we would have nothing to do with him. a fine _mani_ decorated with horns stood on a terrace, and just below it we halted for the night by a sheet of ice produced by springs. we had scarcely set up the tents when a caravan of several hundred sheep, laden with salt, came along from the north-west. only two armed guides were with it; they had been to tabie-tsaka, and were now going home to yangchut-tanga, twenty days' journey to the south-east. in the same direction yaks were grazing, which were said to belong to the gova of the district. in the evening we had a visit from a traveller who was going home to his tent farther south. he promised to sell us three sheep in the morning. would he keep his word? yes, certainly; he met us with the sheep next day as we were passing along the western shore of the chunit-tso ( , feet) southwards. at the northern extremity of the lake a warm sulphurous spring burst forth. we were told that if a man drinks of it he becomes ill, but if he mixes the water with some from an adjacent cold spring he is cured of any complaint he may suffer from. sick sheep and goats are dipped in the warm water and become well again at once. the spring is holy, and a _mani_ heap is set up near it. the lake is slightly salt and frozen. two small brooks enter it from the mountains on the west; a third brook, lungnak-bupchu, formed a large sheet of ice, and in the mouth of its valley stood a couple of tents, and their dogs came down on us like a whirlwind, but received such a thrashing from takkar that they showed themselves no more that evening. april . we left the southern end of the lake behind us and ascended a small valley leading up to the low pass nima-lung-la, near which we encamped in a barren spot between granite crags. an eagle-owl sat in a cleft and at twilight uttered its shrill piercing cry. lobsang said that this bird was thought much of in tibet, because it warns honest men of thieves and robbers. when the eagle-owls sit and scream, robbers are certain to be in the neighbourhood. on april we had only half an hour's march to the threshold of the nima-lung-la ( , feet), from which there is a magnificent view over the trans-himalaya--a series of dark rocks with black, snow-crowned peaks. between us and the range extended a wide, perfectly level plain, full of pools, marshes, and rivulets. at one of them sat two tibetans cutting up a yak which had died. they confirmed the information we had received before, that we were now in the district bongba-kemar, a day's journey from bongba-kebyang, and that we must follow the river buptsang-tsangpo for several days upwards to reach saka-dzong by the pass samye-la. i had still a very dim and indistinct notion of the geographical configuration of this region. was the range in front of us to the south a continuation of nien-chen-tang-la, which i had crossed at the sela-la, chang-la-pod-la, and angden-la; or was it another range disconnected from the former? during the following days we should obtain an answer to this question. should we be successful, and be able to complete this exceedingly important meridional traverse through an unknown part of tibet? it would be more than provoking to be stopped just at the northern foot of the trans-himalaya. camp was pitched below the opening of a valley where there were two tents. the nomads warned us against the water in the pools of the plain: our horses would lose their hair if they drank of it. "snoring" kunchuk complained of toothache, but was cured at once by two resolute comrades. the operation was performed with pincers properly intended for horse-shoe nails. to get at the tooth better, they put a stone in the patient's mouth. "do not kill me," he shrieked when the tooth jumped out. on april we travelled altogether ¼ miles to the south. the country was perfectly barren, and the ground was entirely covered with red porphyry detritus. a small spring surrounded by grass seemed to us quite an oasis, and there we encamped near a sheepfold and a _mani_ heap. another day's march and we came to the buptsang-tsangpo, "the deeply excavated river," and followed it to the south. the river is divided into several arms, and already contained a deal of water, though for the most part it was frozen. this valley is about miles broad and has a very gentle slope. the locality where we encamped after passing fourteen tents was called monlam-gongma ( , feet). hence the river was said to flow five days' journey to the north-north-west and pour into a large lake, called the tarok-tso. we might have attempted to make an excursion in that direction, but it was more important to complete the meridional line while the country was still open to us. two huge snowy peaks which the nomads here, as on the _tasam_, called lunpo-gangri, or "the great ice mountain," were said to lie to the right of the route we ought to follow to saka-dzong. this information was exceedingly puzzling, and i saw that lunpo-gangri with the summits triangulated by ryder and wood could not be a prolongation of the mighty range i had crossed by three passes, and which, farther east, bears the name nien-chen-tang-la. after a vain attempt to get rid of our enfeebled yaks, we continued up the great river along its right or eastern bank terrace. a south-westerly storm which commenced some days before still continued. in the amchung country (camp ) we had a neighbour called kamba dramdul, who could not give much information, but what he said was of deep interest. we had still some days' journey to the samye-la--all up the buptsang-tsangpo valley, with _gangris_ or snowy heights on both the right and left sides. on the pass we should be quite close to the peaks of lunpo-gangri. i already suspected that the great range we had on our left--that is, towards the east--was a continuation of nien-chen-tang-la, while lunpo-gangri was a quite independent chain without the least connection with the former. the eastern range increased in magnitude on the following day's march, and among its dark ramifications rose some rather flat summits capped with eternal snow. we kept for the most part to the top of the terrace on the right bank, which was to feet above the river, and fell steeply to the even valley bottom where the stream meandered. here the valley was about miles broad. the ice mantle of the river became wider and thicker the higher we mounted, but the rise was very gradual. from camp the culminating peak of lunpo-gangri lay south, ° e. every day's journey we accomplished without adventures strengthened our position. the nomads must think: if these men travel right through the whole of bongba without being stopped, they cannot be impostors. on april we travelled ½ miles up the buptsang-tsangpo, and we were astonished to find so voluminous a river up on the isolated plateau country. on its banks ducks and geese cackled in large numbers. tubges shot several of them; it was a sin to disturb their dreams of spring and love. no human being was seen this day. i had a feeling of repose when we could see no black tents, and for the sake of peace i would readily abstain from sour milk. the view to the south-south-east was magnificent; the peaks of lunpo-gangri stood out against the pure blue sky in dazzling white, with shades of light blue indicating ice. on the east also of our route appeared a whole world of mountains. most unexpectedly the summits of lunpo-gangri have a much grander and more imposing appearance from the northern side, towards the plateau country, than from the south side, the valley of the brahmaputra, most probably because on the southern side they are too near. up in the north we saw them at all distances, and for several days we had them right in front of us. [illustration: , , . the summits of lunpo-gangri from camps , , and . from water-colours by the author.] in the night of april the temperature sank to - . °, and on the preceding nights to . °, . °, and . °. the cold increased as we mounted higher. we came to an expansion in the valley where three glacier streams unite to form the buptsang-tsangpo, just as in the case of the brahmaputra, and also on the northern flank of one of the world's mightiest mountain systems. our camp ( , feet) was pitched close to the river in bupyung-ring. the eastern headwater comes partly from the samye-la, partly from mountains adjoining on the south-west. the middle one descends from a massive called yallak-mallak, and the western from chomo-gangri; south-east of this mountain is lunpo-gangri, which is drained to the sea, both from its northern and its southern flank (illusts. , , ). bupyung-ring is one of the finest and most beautiful regions i have seen in tibet. the flat wide valley, surrounded by mountains with ice and snow, is clothed with abundant grass and traversed by numerous water-courses. everywhere are seen traces of camping-places. at the time we passed through only a few tent villages remained, but the valley is full of life in summer when the nomads come down from the north. when the melting of the snows properly sets in during summer, and afterwards in the rainy season, the buptsang-tsangpo swells up so tremendously that the river cannot be crossed for three months, and communication between the banks is interrupted. from its source to its outlet in the tarok-tso the river is probably nearly miles long, and is possibly the largest river in tibet which does not flow to the sea. the only rivers that can vie with it are the sachu-tsangpo, which flows into the zilling-tso, and the soma-tsangpo, which falls into the teri-nam-tso. the sachu-tsangpo was far larger than the buptsang when i crossed it in the rainy season in . but the buptsang is also a large river in spring, and in the rainy season must swell as much as the sachu. the buptsang-tsangpo has hitherto been unknown to europeans, but we find the tarok-tso on d'anville's map, and a river entering the lake from the south, which no doubt is identical with the buptsang-tsangpo. the jesuits who resided in pekin two hundred years ago, and were ordered by the emperor kang hi to compile a map of the whole chinese empire, procured information even about this remote region from chinese and tibetan sources. during the past days our two yaks had become so wearied and footsore that we had to get rid of them at any price. we therefore stayed a day in bupyung and bartered them for nine sheep, which took over the loads of the yaks. now we had again thirty-one sheep and some goats. on the th we came to the foot of the mountain where commenced the actual steep ascent to the pass itself. here were four tents inhabited exclusively by women and children. the men had gone a couple of days before to gova tsepten's tent. it is incumbent on this chief to collect a certain number of men and yaks, which for about three months are posted on the _tasam_ ready to transport goods on behalf of the devashung without compensation. this is a kind of _corvée_ which is exacted not only all along the road between lhasa and ladak, but on all other great high-roads in tibet. naturally this injudicious system is a great annoyance to the nomads, who have to leave their flocks in the meantime to the care of women and children. if any one wishes to escape this compulsory service he must supply a substitute, pay him, and furnish him with yaks and provisions. the year before, when we travelled with hired horses from shigatse, the poor nomads served us, but we always paid them honourably and gave them handsome gratuities as well. after a night temperature of - . ° we rode up to the pass on the th, over and between hills and across the brook which brings its tribute from the samye-la to the buptsang-tsangpo. solid rock could not be found, but all the detritus and boulders were of grey granite; seldom was a piece of porphyry noticed. the usual observations were made on the pass, and the boiling-point thermometer was read off. the view of lunpo-gangri was grander than ever, now that its peaks were quite near. the distinctly marked valley of the buptsang-tsangpo disappeared in the distance to the north-north-west, while to the south-east nothing could be seen but a flat saddle, whence i concluded that we were not yet on the actual water-parting pass. we had not followed the track of the caravan far, before we saw a brook coming from the south-east, which also belonged to the buptsang-tsangpo. on its bank, where we also halted, was encamped a caravan of men and yaks, which was carrying salt to saka-dzong, six days' march farther. these men could not understand why we, merchants from ladak, chose such a way, and asked how we found it out. they were treated to the usual story about the wool-trade in summer, and they regretted that they could not serve us with their yaks, as they were called out for government transport on the great high-roads. now we wondered whether they would let the governor of saka-dzong know that they had met with a party of ladakis on byways, and if this news would injure us. perhaps, after all, it would be best to avoid saka-dzong altogether. on april it was our chief desire to get in advance of the yak caravan. before they had begun to load up their animals i started off with the sheep, and came in good time to the summit of the samye-la with its streamer-decked poles. though we were all the way in sight of the yak-men's camp, i must, at any cost, determine the height of the pass, and the distance was so great that they could not see what we were doing. after boiling the thermometer, whence we obtained a height of , feet, i also drew a panorama. to the south and south-east was a world of mountains belonging to the lunpo-gangri range, which lay to the south, and to nien-chen-tang-la on the north. we were therefore standing on the actual watershed between two gigantic ranges, which are both members of the trans-himalayan family. and this pass, the samye-la, occupies the highest and most important rank from a hydrographic and orographical point of view that any pass in asia can lay claim to, for it is a divide between the isolated drainage area of the plateau on the north and the boundless ocean, on the south. it ranks, then, with the sela-la, chang-la-pod-la, and angden-la, and is much more important than the tseti-lachen-la, which is only a watershed between the sutlej and the indus, and than the jukti-la, which parts the waters between the two arms of the indus. at the samye-la i attained my chief desire, to cross the trans-himalaya between the tseti-lachen-la and the ang-den-la, and gain another point on the immense boundary line on the north of the basins of the great indian rivers, and i succeeded in proving the unbroken continuance of the trans-himalaya for miles west of angden-la. a most extraordinarily interesting discovery also was that the angden-la and the samye-la, though of exactly the same value as watersheds, do not lie on the same chain. the angden-la is situated on the western prolongation of the chain which stands on the southern shore of tengri-nor and is known by the name of nien-chen-tang-la, but the samye-la lies in a longitudinal valley between this chain and lunpo-gangri. accordingly, i could strike out once and for all the continuous mountain range which hodgson and saunders constructed at their writing-table, and represented as running north of the upper brahmaputra. here also i considered what name i should give to the colossal mountain system which runs in the north parallel to the himalayas. the name lunpo-gangri had at least as much claim as nien-chen-tang-la, but both were unsuitable, as they only denoted certain ranges in a whole system, and therefore had only local significance. then it came to me like a flash--trans-himalaya is the name which i will attach to this gigantic mountain system. while i sat and pondered over the great idea which had come to me this day without any merit of my own, i was recalled to the business of the moment by lobsang, who informed me that the yaks were moving in a black line up to the pass. then we got up and went on foot down the slopes bestrewn with troublesome rubbish and granite boulders. soon trickling rivulets collected into a small brook. i regarded with pleasure this little stream leaping among the stones, and listened to its purling song. it was the old melody, and we had recently heard it from the brooks of the buptsang-tsangpo. and yet i seemed to hear an undertone of another kind, a sound in the water which suggested a new aim. the buptsang-tsangpo is doomed to final annihilation in the tarok-tso and tabie-tsaka, where the water is evaporated and dispersed to the four winds of heaven. but the brook we now followed debouches into the chaktak-tsangpo and brahmaputra, and its destiny is the indian ocean, over which runs the way to my home. we had just set up our tents before the yaks came tramping up in close order, followed by their whistling and singing drivers. they went round, not to come too near us. were they afraid of us or were they suspicious? were they a cloud, no larger than a man's hand, from which, in due time, a destructive tornado was to burst over our little band, which now for the second time crossed the forbidden land without leave? chapter lxvi in the robbers' paradise in former times the glacier tongues of lunpo-gangri ran down into the valley, and traces of them were very conspicuous as we descended to lower country on april . the valley is quite full of old moraines, consisting exclusively of granite, and some of them are superficially concealed under fine matter and moss. we passed the large yak caravan again, which was encamping after a very short march. evidently the men intended to stay over the next day, for the loads were taken off the yaks and piled up. when they mean to set out again the next day they leave the loads on the yaks, for they think it too much trouble to load and unload yaks for a single night. they might stay for us as long as they liked; we should get in advance and pass by saka-dzong before we were denounced. but no, it would be wiser to avoid saka-dzong altogether; not to escape the sight of muhamed isa's grave, but not to needlessly expose ourselves to suspicion. it was perfectly evident that the authorities would wonder why a small party of ladakis went along byways instead of following the great _tasam_, and they would hold an inquiry over us. [illustration: . wrestling. . two guides. . boy with hat. . shepherd boy. (inhabitants of the province of bongba.) sketches by the author.] after the moraines came to an end we traversed a more open expansion of the valley, with luxuriant grass and millions of detestable mouse-holes. we were right glad when takkar pinched the necks of one or two of these obnoxious rodents. tubges supplied me with partridges, and one of our goats yielded me a drop of milk. from camp lunpo-gangri's summits are seen foreshortened, and one of them is as small as an umbrella. several peaks are seen to the east-south-east, the continuation of the range, and it is not difficult to infer that chomo-uchong, the isolated mountain beside the _tasam_, lies in the eastern prolongation of lunpo-gangri. i took bearings of the higher summits in the neighbourhood from every camp, and shall hereafter make known the results. the other men make the "snorer's" life miserable. at eight o'clock he crawls into his lair beside the sheep, and immediately begins his wood-sawing. some one yells at him, and he wakes up and makes some witty remark, which makes the men laugh, and he never loses his temper. in two minutes he is asleep again and sawing as hard as ever, and is roused by another shout. only when the others have fallen asleep is he left in peace, and can saw as hard as he likes. little puppy behaves splendidly, is lively, playful, and affectionate. at night he sleeps on the rugs at my feet and helps takkar to keep watch. they are my companions, and it will be hard to part from them. april . . °. how long this winter has been! now lobsang has come to the conclusion that the yak drivers will not denounce us, for fear lest they should be called to account for not spying upon us better. we continue our way down the valley. how delightful only to go for some days to lower country. in some places we see summer camping-grounds; now the country is desolate and deserted. the river carries down about cubic feet of clear water per second; it has open water only in the middle, and elsewhere is covered with margins of ice feet thick, and icicles hang from their edges. on the banks, field-mice dart about between their holes. the valley contracts and the river often skirts steep cliffs of schist. most of the tributaries, and the largest of them, come from the chain which is the immediate continuation of nien-chen-tang-la. the ice becomes thicker the more the valley contracts and the longer it is in shadow. we often cross it from one bank to the other, where it forms a bridge. stags' horns are set up on a _mani_ heap; where do they come from? this valley runs between the two ranges like the buptsang-tsangpo. on this day we never see a man or a tent. in the evening a night owl again sat screeching above the camp, and the ladakis were convinced that it meant to warn us against robbers. if these knew that a european with european weapons was in the caravan they would not attack it; but we were only ladakis, and the tibetans despise ladakis and look upon them as cowards. on the th we travelled southwards to the place ( , feet) where our valley enters the rukyok valley, running down from the west-north-west, at the bottom of which some of the lunpo-gangri summits were again visible. still no men were to be seen, only numerous summer camping-places. two horsemen rode past our camp on the other, right, side of the valley. what did they want? were they spies? we had every reason to suspect a spy in every human being. no; they were kiang hunters from gertse, who had left their home and were seeking new dwellings in another province, because of some unpleasantness with the gertse pun, the potentate whom we were carefully making away from. they informed us that we were a day's journey from pasa-guk, where i had encamped the year before, and three short marches from saka-dzong. it was hazardous to pass so near a governor's residence. abdul kerim bought one of the riders' horses for rupees. this day i put on for the first time a new ladaki costume. the other was too warm, and, being red, was conspicuous among the others. the new coat was made of worn, tattered sackcloth, and was stained with ashes and soot. in this i looked just like the other men. now i painted my face regularly every day, and he must be a very smart fellow who could find out that i was not a genuine ladaki. we had hitherto got on remarkably well, and had only a day's journey to a place where i had been the year before. but the nervous tension increased more and more, and i wondered every morning what surprises the new day had in store for us. [illustration: . sonam ngurbu, chief of the chokchu province. . dorche tsuen, governor of the saka province. . man with a singular cap, in sonam ngurbu's escort. . tagla tsering, the chief who refused to let me go to the dangra-yum-tso. sketches by the author.] april . as we were starting, two men passed on foot, driving before them sheep laden with salt. our way was the same as theirs and we had to pass them. while i drove our own sheep down the road, abdul kerim stopped and talked with the men, to draw off their attention; but we could see that they were interested in our strange party, and looked closely at us. i limped, thinking that the tibetans had never seen a lame european, if they had seen any european at all. but the people had seen me in pasa-guk and saka-dzong the year before, and then i did not halt. i had come off well from our troublesome neighbours and also past the large yak caravan, which a couple of days ago had turned off another way but had now come into ours again. we met a large sheep caravan with a mounted party; a woman was said to be the wife of the gova of rukyok. the people we had just met were not so dangerous as those that followed. we left the rukyok river farther and farther to the right, and directly to the south appeared quite close the lofty summit which rises above pasa-guk. we had left the salt-laden sheep and the yaks behind us, and we came at length to the bank of our old friend the chaktak-tsangpo, which was considerably smaller than at the end of may and beginning of june the year before. here we left the high-road to the south, and marched northwards along the chaktak-tsangpo's right, or western bank, where we soon encamped on a meadow ( , feet). when abdul kerim came back he was very solemn. he had had great difficulty in answering questions why we followed a byway along the chaktak-tsangpo instead of taking the highway to saka-dzong as all other travellers did. he had replied that we were sent to find out how much sheep's wool would be for sale in the country next summer. then the men of the salt caravan had said: "you cannot be afraid of robbers; they frequent the mountains up here. are you well armed?" "yes, we have two guns and some revolvers." "you will want them. we see that you are peaceful people, so we warn you. six days ago a robber band, eighteen men strong, each with his horse and gun, attacked a tent village here in the neighbourhood. they pillaged tents, took sheep and about yaks, and made off by the road you intend to follow. men were collected and sent after them, but two were killed and the others ran away. no one knows where the band is now. if you value your lives, keep a sharp watch at night. if they attack you, let them plunder you; you are only thirteen, and cannot defend yourselves." this was why abdul kerim looked so anxious, and it was not to be wondered at. now we also ran the risk of a night attack, as if it were not trying enough to travel in disguise by byways through the forbidden land. as long as there was daylight the animals were allowed to wander about and graze, but at dusk they were driven up near to the tents. in the evening the men could talk of nothing but robbers. lobsang, who was a tibetan himself, took the matter quietly. he said that there were organized bands of as many as a hundred men with a chief at their head, who ordered where raids should be made. but at this season of the year they sat round their fires and tried to look innocent. in his opinion the air must be warmer before they would move. if a robber was caught in the neighbourhood of gartok, his head and one arm must be sent as a proof to lhasa, he added. in the principal towns punishment is very severe. for theft an eye is taken out and a hand cut off. a gova or other magistrate who catches a robber receives a reward or promotion, but one who neglects his duty is punished. we heard that the district near geddo by the upper raga-tsangpo is notorious as a regular nest of robbers, and is visited by professional freebooters from nakchu. in the twilight the mohammedans among my ladakis sang the same melodious hymn i had first heard at kizil-unkur. "allahu ekber" echoed among the rocky cliffs; "and it is very effective in protecting true believers against the wiles of the heathen." they had all at once become deeply religious again in the robbers' paradise. "allahu ekber," god is great. the night passed peacefully, and early the next morning it was reported that five horsemen were approaching our tents from the north. the field-glass reduced them to two men, a woman, and some yaks. they made a circuit as though they were afraid of us, but abdul kerim hailed them to get information about the road. then we marched on directly eastwards along the northern bank of the chaktak-tsangpo. the ascent was very gradual, the valley fairly broad and with abundant pasture. no tent was seen, but summer camps were numerous. a cairn marks the place where the chaktak-tsangpo, coming from the north, ° w., unites with its tributary the gebuk-chu from the east. to the north-north-east rise two snowy peaks of medium height with small glaciers. it was evident that the chaktak-tsangpo flows from the country to the north of them, for the deeply excavated transverse valley of the river could be clearly traced. the main river may carry down about cubic feet in a second, and the affluent about . in this district the river is called kamchung-chu; the name chaktak-tsangpo (charta-tsangpo, as it is incorrectly called by nain sing) is not applied to it above pasa-guk. we encamped in the angle between the two rivers near a meadow where three horses were feeding. their owners, who were bivouacking behind a projection near at hand, were from rukyok and had lost many of their sheep in winter from disease, and had been to a warm spring to dip and save the remainder. we were here about due north of saka-dzong and about two days' journey from it. but between us and the governor's residence rose a ridge which is a link in the chain of lunpo-gangri. in the evening and at night our watchmen fired, as usual, some revolver shots, to inform any chance robbers that we were on our guard. april . as the tents were being taken down, our neighbours went by with sheep. i turned my back to them and busied myself with loading a mule. then i travelled with the sheep, for there were several more tents farther up, and i could not ride till we came to an uninhabited part of the valley. several side valleys opened on the left, and at their ends could sometimes be seen a part of the main crest. we know absolutely nothing of the country to the north of it, but that it cannot be the watershed between the plateau and the sea is evident, and was shown by the kamchung transverse valley. after crossing the river twice over bridges of porous ice we encamped near a sheepfold where dry dung was plentiful. the last nomads had told us that next day we should come to a large tent, the property of an influential old man named kamba tsenam, who owned yaks and sheep. he would evidently be our next difficulty, and if we slipped past him the country would be open to us as far as raga-tasam. we are satisfied when, as on this day, we have again gained nearly miles without being interfered with; but how shall we fare to-morrow?--this is the standing question we ask ourselves every evening. it is certainly an advantage to travel along out-of-the-way paths where we escape notice, but if any sharp gova or governor hears us spoken of, he cannot help being suspicious of our strange proceedings, and institute a close inquiry. now the salt caravan which we passed has already arrived at saka-dzong; we are, indeed, to the east of that place, but we travel so slowly that we can never escape pursuit. our excitement grows daily. i am tired and weary of this self-imposed confinement, and long for it to come to an end. what shall we do then? that i know not. we have penetrated so far that a crisis must come. i have managed to travel through bongba, but my plans for the immediate future are very indefinite and depend on circumstances. we will get on as far as we can. april was a day when we knew that the definite crisis was coming very much nearer. abdul kerim, kunchuk, and gaffar set out first to pay a visit to kamba tsenam and keep his attention riveted on the sale of food and horses. we followed after, and crossed the river twice on cracking bridges of ice, kept along the northern bank, and passed a side valley, at the mouth of which stood three tents, where our men were in the midst of a group of tibetans who were showing their horses. gulam had warned me in time, so i dismounted and went and looked after our last mules. as soon as we were concealed by a bank terrace i could ride again. the pleasure did not last long, for at the next side valley on the north i had to dismount again before another tent, where a pack of savage dogs were encountered by takkar and little puppy, who, save the mark, would help to defend us, but received a nip in the neck and had to be rescued. here we lost kutus and tubges, who remained at the tent, while our diminished party continued on its way eastwards. at a spur on the northern side of the valley a couple of elegant _mani_ heaps were erected, and by one of them a streamer pole was set up. it had snowed thickly ever since eight o'clock, but the valley was so narrow that we could not pass all the tents unseen. just at the projecting point a large valley ran in from the north: we only guessed at it, for everything was hidden in the snowstorm. gulam went a little way ahead and gave me the sign to dismount. immediately in front of the point stood four tents and a small stone cabin, where a man stood watching us, and also a chief's tent of such huge dimensions that i never saw its like; it was as large as a house. here we left lobsang and abdul rasak, and went on eastwards with a much diminished party. the chief volume of the gebuk-chu comes from the northern valley; in our valley, which we knew led to the gebuk-la, only a brook was left. we set up our tents on the terrace at the mouth of a northern side valley. all the country was white, and not a shadow could be seen of the surroundings. our three tents stood as usual close together, mine with its opening up the valley, that is, eastwards. after a while the men left behind came up and gave their reports in turn. they had bought provisions for two days, and had learned that the district was called gebuk-yung. the next day we should go over the gebuk-la and encamp at the foot of the kinchen-la, from the top of which we should see raga-tasam the following day. of course it was risky for three parties of our men to visit three tents near together, for the tibetans always asked about the routes we had followed and our plans, and our men might in their haste give discordant answers. in the large tent lobsang had been cross-examined, and had answered that we came from the gertse pun, who had advised us to take this byroad because we should reach raga-tasam two days sooner than if we went through saka-dzong. "quite true," the tibetans answered, but also warned us against robbers, for thirteen ladakis would be but a mouthful for an ordinary robber band, and the country was very unsafe. "it is well for you that you have good weapons," they said. lastly, abdul kerim turned up with his purchases. he had learned that all the tents we had seen in the day belonged to kamba tsenam, who lived himself in the largest, but he happened to be in saka-dzong, where an assembly had been convened in anticipation of an impending visit from a high chinese official, and the question what present should be made to him had to be decided. kamba tsenam owned thirty-five horses, which were grazing beyond gebuk-la, and if the rich nomad returned in the evening we should certainly be able to buy some from him. "you say," declared an elderly man in kamba tsenam's service, "that you are a _tsongpun_ (merchant) from ladak. why then do you travel by this dangerous side route? here you can drive no trade. how have you found the way? why have you travelled in winter? why do you ask the names of the valleys?" "i have to write down all the names," he answered, "that we may find the way again in summer, for i am commissioned to make large purchases of wool." "that is well, you shall have several hundred bales of sheep's wool from us. i will give you a guide in the morning; you will pay him a rupee for two days. without him you cannot find your way over the gebuk-la, especially when the ground is covered with snow." [illustration: . travelling ladaki merchant in west tibet. . oang gye, son of the governor of saka. . panchor, the yak-slayer, my guide on the journey to the teri-nam-tso. . woman of yumba-matsen. sketches by the author.] abdul kerim had thanked him for his kindness and then had come to look for us. we were sitting and deliberating when two riders armed with guns came up to our tents. they were close upon us when they appeared out of the snowstorm. we just managed to close my tent and fasten up takkar before the entrance. the elder man was abdul kerim's friend from the large tent, the other the youth who was offered to us as a guide. they tied up their horses and went nonchalantly into abdul kerim's tent. here they sat and gossiped for an hour, and offered a large handsome white horse for sale at the price of rupees. abdul kerim bought it, whereupon they asked how much money he had with him, and whether he was not afraid of being attacked. afterwards they went about the tents and looked around, and i drew a breath of relief when they at last vanished in the snow with the other horse. now we considered the situation. to refuse the guide would seem extremely suspicious, for the snow already lay a foot deep, and the path--all we had to depend on--was covered up. but to have a stranger, a spy, in the caravan for two days and a night was still more dangerous. when kutus and sedik went back a little later to the large tent to fetch a bowl of sour milk, they were told to say that our _tsongpun_ did not want a guide, for we should remain quiet a day, either here or at the next camp. "your _tsongpun_ speaks with two tongues, he does not know what he wants," the men answered. we left this dangerous place on april before the sun was up, and i went first with the sheep in case our neighbours paid a morning visit. the weather cleared and the sun came out, and then the snow quickly evaporated. farther up all the valley floor was covered with a continuous sheet of ice. in front of us was seen the pass gebuk-la. here a little old man was following ten mares. he pretended not to see us, but he was soon overtaken by abdul kerim and kunchuk, who kept him company most of the day. with lobsang i rested half an hour on the pass, at a height of , feet. to the east and south-east of us lay an entanglement of mountains and valleys, and without the horse-tender we had so fortunately found it would have been quite impossible to find our way over the succession of small saddles which followed. to the south-south-east the snowy massive of chomo-uchong rose in radiant sunshine; to the north was a huge crest, which i, like ryder, took for the main range of the trans-himalaya and the watershed, but this turned out afterwards to be a mistake. the horse-driver took us up a secondary saddle, at the eastern foot of which runs a deeply eroded valley, which, coming from the north, ° e., is the upper section of the valley we followed last year, and which runs down to basang, where i saw muhamed isa for the last time among the number of the living. here was the driver's tent, and to escape his company during the night we continued our march after the stranger had given us instructions about the way. our camp was situated in the mouth of a small valley on the ascent to the kinchen-la, where we were overwhelmed in a terribly dense and violent snowstorm. the guide, who had so fortunately appeared at the right moment, had said in the presence of our men that he was kamba tsenam's brother and a great yak-slayer. the year before he had seen in saka-dzong a european whose caravan leader, a big strong fellow, had inspired respect wherever he showed himself. but he had died suddenly in saka, and his comrades had digged a long hole in the ground where they had laid him. he thought it strange that ladakis, who were of the same faith as the tibetans, would travel with and serve the hated europeans. for the future we determined to observe yet greater caution. two or three ladakis should always wear dark eye-glasses, so that mine might not seem so peculiar. as soon as we could buy woollen material all the men should have new clothes, so that i in my rags would seem the poorest and meanest of the party. chapter lxvii april in these days our life was dismal and lonesome, and our future uncertain. we went as in the dark, feeling with our hands lest we should fall. every day which passed without any untoward event came upon me as a complete surprise. we had now only two days' journey to raga-tasam on the great highway, where caravans and travellers fare to and fro, and government officials are responsible that no unauthorized person slips past. i was thoroughly sick of my disguise and the constant uncertainty, and longed for a crisis to free me from my embarrassment. but to deliver ourselves, of our own free will, into the hands of the tibetans was out of the question. they must detect us themselves, and till then the strain on our nerves must continue. april --the anniversary of the _vega's_ return to stockholm in ! at sunrise the whole country lay under a bright wintry shroud of white snow. the thermometer had fallen to ½°, but when the sun mounted up the horses steamed, and light clouds of vapour rose up from the snow, so that we might have been riding through a land of sol-fataras and fumaroles. our caravan animals struggled bravely up the tough ascent. of sheep we had only twenty left, and two of them were veterans from lumbur-ringmo-tso. twice we thought that the pass, kinchen-la, was just before us, but new heights rose farther back, and we worked our way up hills, among which brooks run down towards basang and saka-dzong, where muhamed isa sleeps in his mound. to the south-west chomo-uchong's summits presented a grand sight. at length we made the last ascent up to the top of the pass, where the height is , feet above sea-level. at the other side a river runs north-east, one of the headwaters of the raga-tsangpo. to the west there is a brilliant spectacle, the summits of lunpo-gangri rising in sharp and savage beauty from a maze of mountains and ridges, which shine in lighter bluer shades the more remote they are. to the north-east we catch a glimpse of an outlying ridge covered from foot to crest with new-fallen snow. the broad flat valley of the raga-tsangpo stretches eastwards as far as the eye can see. in the far distance to the east-south-east a grand snowy crest shines forth, the northernmost of the himalayan system (illust. ). we stayed a long time at the top, and i sketched a panorama. then we followed the track of the caravan over the lower shoulders of two mountains, and found our camp pitched in a valley with good grass and a brook partially frozen. my tent looked towards its bank, and all three stood as usual in a line. this day also had passed satisfactorily, but all would be different next day, for then we should come to raga-tasam, where we encamped last year and stayed a week. camp was, then, the last where we could still feel at ease, for we had seen no living being all day long, and had no neighbours. here, then, we must arrange some fresh safeguards. we must sort out from our already scanty baggage all articles that might excite suspicion, as, for example, the small padded leather box in which the theodolite was packed; for the future it would be rolled with its inner wooden case in my bed. further, the hypsometer's leather case and the actinometer, which probably would never be used again. whatever was combustible was to be thrown into the fire and the rest buried. a couple of rugs of camel's wool were also to be discarded. [illustration: . tibetans with yaks.] [illustration: . dorche tsuen on the march.] to begin with, we must make a change in our housing arrangements. i was to sleep for the last time in my old weather-beaten tent, where our chief, abdul kerim, was henceforth to set up his quarters and receive guests. for me a compartment of about square yards, not larger than my bed, was partitioned off in abdul kerim's tent. this crib, which, when the camp was set up, was enclosed on all sides, was henceforth to be my prison cell. it was like a secret drawer in a bureau, and when it was ready i inspected it and found it somewhat narrow but comfortable. suen was my hairdresser, and he had just completed his business when abdul kerim looked in at the tent opening and whispered that four men with yaks were coming up the valley on the road we had to go down from the kinchen-la. i hurriedly set my disguise in order and wound the turban round my head, while the flap was fastened, and takkar was tied up before my tent. then i looked through the peephole in the tent canvas on the side towards the upper end of the valley, and saw eight men on foot in dark-blue and red dresses, with red scarves round their heads, all armed with guns and swords, and leading nine horses; one man led two laden horses. what in the world did this mean? they were not robbers, for they came suddenly and at night. they seemed rather men in government service; the two in front were certainly officials. my men occupied themselves at their fire; i could see that they were a prey to the greatest uneasiness. the strangers came straight to our camp-fire as if it were the end of their journey. they formed a circle round abdul kerim, lobsang, kutus, and gulam, and began an animated but subdued conversation. three of them, evidently servants, led the horses to a spot barely thirty paces from my tent and right in front of it. there they took off all the saddles and loads, sent off the horses to graze, brought out pots and cans, arranged three stones in order, collected fuel, made a fire, fetched water in a large pot and cooked tea. it was plain that they intended to camp here for the night, and that they had intruded on us for the purpose of watching us. the other five entered abdul kerim's tent, threw themselves down, and continued the conversation in the same low quiet voice and in thoroughly polite and measured tones. i could not catch what they said, but that the affair was serious i could only too plainly perceive, for i heard my name mentioned--hedin sahib. after a good hour's conversation they went out again and made a tour round my tent, but the furious takkar would not let them approach the door. but they discovered the peephole in the side of the tent, and a man put his finger in and looked through the hole, but i was lying against the folds of the tent on the same side, so he could not see me. then they went and threw themselves down in a circle round the fire, brought out their wooden cups and drank tea. they sat right in front of the entrance to my tent, and i could not get out without being seen. then abdul kerim whispered from the back of my tent and inside his own, and told me what the men had said. the leader, a stoutish young man of good appearance, had put the usual questions and received the usual answers. then he had uttered the following words in a serious and decided tone: "news of your arrival has come to the governor of saka-dzong through two salt caravans which passed your party above pasa-guk. as it has never occurred that a merchant from ladak has come from the north and has travelled on the byway through gebuk, the governor and the other authorities in saka suspected that hedin sahib might be concealed among you, and the more so because he himself expressed his wish last year to come back again and travel through the mountainous regions in the north. therefore my comrades and i received orders to follow your trail, overtake you, and subject you to the most searching examination. we are in no hurry, and in the morning we shall get several yak-loads of provisions. you protest that hedin sahib is not among you disguised as a ladaki. well, it may be that you are telling the truth. but remember, _tsongpun_, that we shall carry out our orders to the letter. you are thirteen men from ladak, you say, and i can see only ten. where are the others?" "they are out collecting fuel." "good. when you are all assembled here we intend to search you down to the skin. then we shall turn out all your baggage and empty every sack we find in your tents. and if in this examination we find nothing belonging to a european, it will remain for you to give a written declaration that no european is among your party concealed or disguised, and under this declaration you must set your name-stamp. then you can travel early in the morning where you like, and we shall return to saka." when i heard this report the situation became quite clear to me, and i at once decided what i would do. but first i crept by the secret way into the caravan leader's tent, where i found myself surrounded by my retainers, except three, who were to warn us if the tibetans came back again. "what is to be done?" i asked abdul kerim. "the sahib knows best himself. as far as i can see, our condition is hopeless," answered the honest man, who had got us out of many a scrape before. "what does lobsang think?" "it would not be wise to give them such a declaration," he answered with a very troubled face. "sahib," suggested kutus, "if they give us breathing-time till night, the sahib and i can hide among the mountains as at the time when we were close to tsongpun tashi. when the search is over we can rejoin the caravan farther down. i can carry the sahib's papers, and other european articles can be buried in the ground under the tent." "they know that we are thirteen," remarked gulam. under the force of circumstances we had made our way right across tibet with a trumped-up story, but to let abdul kerim confirm a false document with his name-stamp on my account was a little too strong even for my geographical conscience. i could not consent to that. whatever might happen, our position was still a strong one. we were in the heart of tibet. the next move would be that we should be sent out of the country, and by whatever way we were obliged to go, i should certainly gain something more. i would absolutely refuse to go to ladak, but i would be content to go to india through nepal, or, better still, through gyangtse. "no," i said to my men as i rose up, "i shall give myself up to the tibetans." then they were all amazed, and began to cry and sob like children. "why do you weep?" i asked. "we shall part here for good, and the sahib will be killed," they answered. "oh no, it is not so bad as that," i said, for it was not the first time i had been caught by tibetans. when i walked out of the tent i heard behind me the murmur of mohammedan prayers: "allahu ekber--bismillah rahman errahim." in my usual disguise from top to toe, and with my face painted black, i walked with slow, deliberate steps straight to the circle of tibetans. when i was close to them they all rose up, as if they knew that i was no ordinary ladaki. "sit down," i said, with a dignified gesture of invitation, and sat down myself between the two principal men. in the one on my right hand i recognized at once the pemba tsering of the year before. i clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "do you know me again, pemba tsering?" he answered not a word, but looked with wide-opened eyes at his comrades, and nodded towards me, as much as to say "it is he." they were mightily dumbfoundered and disconcerted: no one spoke, some looked at one another, others gazed into the fire, one threw a couple of sticks among the stones, and another took small sips of tea. then i spoke again: "yes, truly, pemba tsering, you are quite right; i am hedin sahib, who visited saka-dzong last year. here you have me again; what do you mean to do with me?" abdul kerim, lobsang, and kutus stood behind, trembling like aspen leaves, and expecting that preparations for an execution would be the next move. [illustration: . farewell entertainment for the tibetans on may , .] still they made no answer, but began to whisper together in groups. the younger official, who was evidently the cock of the walk, for the others looked at him and waited for him to speak, began to look through his papers, and picked out one which he read in silence. as they were so long in recovering from their consternation--for they had not expected to get hold of me so easily--i sent kutus for a box of egyptian cigarettes, and offered them all round. each took one with thanks, and lighted it after i had set an example and showed them that the cigarettes were not filled with gunpowder. then the ice was broken, and the leader began to speak very softly and without looking at me. "yesterday strict orders came from the devashung that the governor of saka would be held responsible for europeans who might sneak into the country from the west, and if any european showed himself he must be immediately forced to return by the way he came. when the report reached saka of a caravan two days' journey off, the governor suspected that it might be you, hedin sahib, and we have now accomplished our task. in the governor's name we forbid you to take another step eastwards. we beg you to conform in all things to our directions; our heads and your personal safety are at stake. to-morrow you will follow us over the kinchen-la to saka-dzong." "i said last year that i must and would see the mountain region north of saka. now i have seen it, and you have not been able to prevent me. you see then that i can do more in your country than yourselves. now i intend to travel back to india, but by which way only lien darin, amban of lhasa, shall decide. it is therefore my intention to write to him, and i shall not go anywhere before his answer comes." "we do not wish you to travel by any other way than the one you choose, but we have no authority to forward a letter to lhasa; the governor will decide the question himself. it is with him you must treat; you must meet him personally. therefore we will accompany you to-morrow to saka-dzong." "no, sir, anywhere else you please, but not to saka-dzong. you know that my caravan leader died and lies buried there. it is against my principles to visit a place where i have buried a faithful servant. you shall never get me to saka-dzong even if you raise all tibet." "if it would trouble you to see saka-dzong again, we will certainly not urge you to go thither. will you instead have the kindness to follow us to semoku by the tsango, on the _tasam_, which is only two days' journey to the south-west? i will then write to the governor and ask him to meet you there." "good; i will follow you to semoku to-morrow." "thanks; i will at once send an express messenger to inform the governor, so that you may not have to wait at semoku. but tell me why you have come back again? you travel and travel in tibet and you are always sent away, but always come back again. had you not enough last year, when you were obliged to leave the country by the road to ladak? and now you turn up again among us. how is that possible, and why are you come?" "because i love your country and your friendly people to such a degree that i cannot live without them." "h'm! it is very kind of you to say so, but would it not be better if you were to love your own country a little more? as long as we do not travel in your country, you should not travel in ours; we remain at home, and the best thing you can do is to remain in your country." "as long as i can sit in a saddle i shall come back. you can inform the devashung at your leisure that their excellencies may look for more visits." [illustration: , , , . the dancers at the camp-fire: tubges, kunchuk, suen.] they laughed pleasantly and looked at one another, as much as to say: "if he likes to come back, he is welcome as far as we are concerned." and my ladakis laughed and were extremely astonished that our last day of freedom had come to so peaceful and merry an ending. the tibetans were exceedingly agreeable, polite, and gentle, and never uttered a hard or peevish word about the trouble that i had again brought upon them. and when the old wool story, which abdul kerim a little while before had tried to cram down their throats, was referred to, they laughed heartily and thought that it was a grand device. they are so accustomed to lie themselves that they have a great admiration for any one else who succeeds in deceiving them. they thought it very wonderful that we had been able to cross the whole country without detection, and believed that i must possess some mysterious powers of which they knew nothing, and that they must be very cautious in dealing with me. the young official, who was named rinche dorche, but was called rindor, a contraction of the two names, wrote a long letter to the governor of saka, saying that i was the same hedin sahib who had been here the year before, that we had come to a friendly agreement to proceed to semoku, that i did not wish to travel to ladak but straight to india, and that lien darin alone was to decide on the route. the letter was sealed, and despatched by a mounted courier over the kinchen-la. then we talked and jested again, and before sunset we were as intimate as though we had been friends from childhood. we might have made an appointment to meet in this barren valley and been glad to have found one another. it was easy to understand that the tibetans were pleased. they little thought when the sun rose that they would make such a good catch before evening. the successful issue of their mission would be of great advantage; they would be commended by the governor and gain promotion. for my part i had a feeling of unmixed satisfaction. our freedom was at an end, but for me it had been nothing but an exceedingly enervating captivity. now, for the first time, i felt perfectly free, and was no longer a prisoner in my own tent; i should have no need of that wretched hiding-hole in abdul kerim's tent. the tibetans laughed loudly at my ragged, smutty, greasy dress of coarse grey sackcloth, in which i looked like a convict, or, at best, like a begging monk of the grey friars' confraternity. then they understood how i had succeeded in crossing bongba unseen and unknown. how delightful it would be to throw my rags into the fire and clothe myself in a clean neat tibetan costume, to be no longer obliged to hide my papers and instruments in rice sacks, and not to have to paint my face black as a moor's instead of washing myself. as soon as we had parted from our new friends in the evening, gulam took a hand-basin of warm water into my tent, and then i had a good scrubbing from top to toe, and the water showed that i wanted it. he had to change the water four times before i was tolerably clean. then i clipped my mohammedan beard to the skin, and sadly missed the razors i had thrown away. but i was glad that we had not burned the things we had condemned some hours earlier. rindor begged the loan of one of our tents, as their own transport train was not expected till the morning. besides pemba tsering, there were two other men i had known the year before. they were all very friendly, and said that we had tipped them very generously. there was also a wrinkled old man in the party, who was always smoking a chinese pipe. his name was kamba tsenam, and it was his tent near which we had so nearly been detained two days before. thus ended april , . strange, melancholy thoughts took possession of me when i went to bed. the tibetans had again thwarted my plans--i know not how many times they had done so. our future was dark as ever, but it had arrived at a new stage, and on the th we should wake up to begin a new chapter. the deep silence in the valley was only disturbed occasionally by takkar, when the faithful dog barked at the tibetans. his bark was re-echoed from both flanks as though three dogs kept guard over us. and the everlasting stars glittered as before over our lonely tents. chapter lxviii his excellency the governor of saka on april we rode in a compact body to the mouth of a valley east of chomo-uchong, called radak. six tibetans guarded me on both sides, and our journey had some resemblance to a convict train. now i was not obliged to dismount before we passed a tent. on the left hand was a large open plain where raga-tasam is situated. a shot was heard in the deserted country, and rindor sent two men to see what it was. an antelope hunter! he was arrested and beaten; for the government, at ecclesiastical instigation, had forbidden the extinction of life for three years, except in the case of sheep and yaks. i was reminded of the agreement to forbid europeans to travel in tibet for three years. now i drew my map of the route, took compass bearings, and sketched a panorama quite at my ease. the tibetans wondered at me and questioned me, but did not trouble themselves much about my work. and i had plenty of time to think of the line of policy i should adopt during the following negotiations. i knew that they would urge me to return by the way i had come, through bongba, or by the road i had taken to ladak the year before. for my part, i had now had enough of tibet and i longed to get home, and wished to avoid routes that involved loss of time and that i knew already. now i only wished to travel to india _viâ_ shigatse and gyangtse, and i would try to obtain permission to travel to these towns by roads where no one had been before. after the excitement in which we had lived so long came a reaction. i was worn-out, weary, and indifferent to everything except the nearest way home. therefore i sat down and wrote a letter of fifteen pages to lien darin, referred to his friendly letter sent to gartok, gave an account of our last journey, pointed out to him that no great power could take it amiss if i travelled out of the country through gyangtse, promised that in return i would give him information about the occurrences of gold and salt i had seen, and about the measures which should be taken for the promotion of sheep-breeding,--all natural resources, which would contribute to the advancement of china's newest province, tibet. and i concluded my letter with wishes for the happiness and prosperity of lien darin himself and peace to his forefathers' graves. i did not doubt a moment that he would give his consent to such a modest request, and i saw in my mind's eye the dramatic scene when i should make my first call on major o'connor in tibetan dress, and have a little fun with him before i made myself known. but i may as well say at once that this long epistle to lien darin was never sent. my opponent's tactics lured me to a contest in which he was checkmated in two moves. my merit was as little now as formerly; i was always a marionette, and the hands which held the strings hung over the paths where the clouds and stars move. in the evening i had a visit from pemba tsering and kamba tsenam. the former was much more gentle and friendly than the year before; the latter was a great humorist, who did not seem at all annoyed that he had omitted to close the bag when he had us in it, and had let a valuable booty fall into the hands of another. they had heard of my adventurous voyages on tso-mavang, and were astonished that i had escaped with my life. [illustration: . inner court of selipuk.] [illustration: . dorche tsuen and ngavang on horseback.] two short days' marches took us over the pass kule-la and down to the valley where semoku stands on the great high-road. here stood some scattered tents, and the governor and his colleagues had established themselves in the small stone house of the station. all the more important posts in tibet are entrusted to two gentlemen: thus, for example, there are always two garpuns or viceroys in gartok, a system adopted with the intention that one shall control the other or shall inform of the other if he is guilty of any roguery. in saka-dzong, however, the one governor seemed to be of higher rank than the other; at any rate, he conducted all the negotiations as though he possessed greater authority. as soon as we were ready rindor and two other men came into my tent and brought a message from the governor that he awaited me in the station-house. i answered, that if he wanted anything of me he might come to my tent. it was not long before a party of men crossed the hundred yards between our dwellings. i went out to meet them, invited them to come in and sit down as far as the space allowed, took up my position on my bed, and had before me three gentlemen, namely, dorche tsuen, _pun_ or governor of saka-dzong (illust. ), ngavang, his colleague, and oang gye, his eighteen-year-old son (illust. ). a crowd of servants, nomads, and soldiers massed together at the tent door. pun dorche tsuen is an unusually tall tibetan, forty-three years old, of sympathetic and refined appearance, dressed in a chinese costume of silk, with a small silk cap on his head, a pigtail behind, and velvet boots. he is a man of wealth, owning large flocks in the province over which he rules and a stone house in lhasa, his home, for he is an _upa_ or domiciled inhabitant of the province u, the capital of which is lhasa. there dwell three of his four sons, and one of them is a young lama. his wife has been dead some years. ngavang, his coadjutor, is a little, fat, kindly man in tibetan costume, but with a chinese cap and pigtail. oang gye wears his hair in tibetan fashion, wears no head-covering, and, like his father, is exceedingly sympathetic and good-natured. "i hope that you have had a successful journey and have not suffered much from cold," said dorche tsuen. "oh, it was cold, and we have lost our caravan, our clothes are in rags, and our provisions are at an end, but, as you see, that is of no consequence to us." "at the time of your visit to saka-dzong last year i was in tsonka, but i received an account of your movements. you were sent away. why have you come back again?" "to visit the districts i was then prevented from seeing. i am ashamed to have given you the trouble of coming here from saka-dzong. i hope that we shall soon come to an agreement about the route i am to take in order to leave the country." now i should have to play my cards well. i had changed my mind during the last few days. i had rested, the reaction after the excitement of travelling in disguise had passed away, and i was exceedingly eager to attempt some new discoveries before i gave up the game. i had, it is true, succeeded in making a very valuable traverse across bongba. i had travelled straight across the word "unexplored" on the latest english map of tibet--yea, i had passed between the _p_ and _l_, so that "unexp" lay on the west side of my route and "lored" on the east (see map , vol. i.). but i had left quite untouched two extensive stretches of the large blank patch, and i dreamed of nothing else than to cross bongba again by two fresh routes. it would certainly take four or five months to return to india after a northerly zigzag course, instead of a couple of weeks if i made for british territory through gyangtse, as i intended at first. but if i succeeded in making the northerly detour i should carry home material of perhaps greater value than the discoveries already made. dorche tsuen answered with firm decision: "as to your way back, i will tell you at once: not a step further east; my head depends on it. here you see the order i received a couple of days ago from the devashung. i will read it to you. last year you travelled without leave to nepal, to kubi-gangri, across the holy lake, round kang-rinpoche, and to yumba-matsen. i know exactly where you went. you cannot do the same this year. it is probably in consequence of your journey in all sorts of forbidden directions that the devashung has distributed through the country instructions regarding europeans. two officials have recently been sent from lhasa to shansa-dzong to see that no european approaches the holy city from naktsang. some time ago a chinese officer with soldiers was moved to tingri to guard the country from intrusion from the south. not even a gurkha or a hindu can now travel in tibet without especial permission. the other day i received a letter from the chinese frontier official in tingri which i will read to you. as you see, he orders me to force any european who may come to saka from the north to return in his own footsteps. if he refuses, i have to send off a messenger to tingri, and shall receive assistance in a few days from the soldiers stationed there. times are changed in tibet. if you will not listen to me and travel back by the way you came, i will send a messenger to tingri. but, like you, i hope that we shall come to an agreement without unpleasantness and outside interference." my next move was a feint, namely, to try for the gyangtse route; i would in the end conform to his wishes and give up the gyangtse route under the condition that i should not be compelled to travel along roads i knew already. i pointed out how near we were to gyangtse, and how easily he would get rid of me if i went thither, but nothing made any impression on him. he only answered, "all that is true, but the road is closed to you." "well, i will give it up for your sake, but only on condition that you forward a letter from me to the british trade agent in gyangtse. you can understand that my family are disturbed at my long absence and are looking for news of me." "yes, i can understand that, but i regret to say that i cannot forward your correspondence. all the authorities in tibet are strictly forbidden to assist a european in any way, as he has no right to travel in the country." "you will perhaps allow two of my own servants to carry a letter from me to gyangtse?" "no, never!" "well, at least, you can inform the devashung of my arrival, and ask the government to send notice of it to gyangtse." "i sent a messenger to the devashung as soon as i received the letter from rindor. they will know in lhasa in a few days that you are come here again." i had never induced any tibetan magistrate to forward my letters. that dorche tsuen refused to do me such a trifling service had the deplorable consequence that my family did not receive any reliable report of me till september, and therefore supposed that some misfortune had befallen me. instead of reaching the frontier in a couple of weeks, i was sent back again into the silence of tibet, and the waves washed again over our track. but i took it for granted that news of our arrival on the _tasam_ would penetrate to gyangtse both officially and through reports, and would then be made known everywhere. such, however, was not the case, and after we left the _tasam_ our fate was buried in the same complete silence as before. "no, hedin sahib," dorche tsuen cried out, "the only way open to you is the one by which you came from the north." "i will never travel by that road. it is no use talking about it." "you must." "you cannot force me to do so. to begin with, i will not let you know which way i came, and i travelled in disguise." "it does not matter. it is very well known that you came from the samye-la and the kinchen-la. beyond that the escort i shall send with you will ask the way from tent to tent." "the nomads will answer that they have seen no ladakis, for fear of being punished." "i shall find means of making them confess more than you think." "you can kill me if you like, but you shall never force me to travel over the samye-la. remember that i am a european and a friend of the tashi lama. you may lose your button." much disturbed, dorche tsuen conferred in whispers with ngavang. [illustration: . the author in tibetan dress. from a photograph by the rev. mr. marx, in poo.] "i will give way so far for your sake that i will allow you to return to ladak by the same road you followed last year, through tradum, tuksum, shamsang, parka, and gartok." that was the very solution i most feared. if there were any road in all tibet that i wished to avoid at any cost it was the road to ladak. i answered: "never! not a step on the great high-road to ladak!" "but why? you ought to be thankful for so great a concession." "it is forbidden by the laws of my country for a man to return in his own footsteps. you can cut my throat, but you will not force me to do anything of the sort." "you must have strange laws in your country. may i hear which way you really wish to take?" "i have already said through gyangtse. you refused and i understand your motive. you have urged me to go back to the north. even in this respect i will conform to your wishes, but only on the condition that i am not obliged to retrace my steps. i will go over another pass east of the samye-la and northwards to the teri-nam-tso and then westwards by the shortest way out of tibet." "that is not to be thought of. but let us take the matter quietly. will you agree to accompany me to kamba tsenam's tent, four days' journey from here? you have been there already, and before we reach it we shall have come to some understanding." "yes, willingly." opposition spurred me on. it now became a point of honour to win a new game of chess. my position was very strong. the _tasam_ was eliminated. if i could only cross the trans-himalaya by a more easterly pass, i should by some ruse or other gain the teri-nam-tso, mendong-gompa, the lower buptsang-tsangpo, the tarok-tso, selipuk, and an eighth trans-himalayan pass. yes, now i must, if ever, play my cards well. i still felt young and strong. the political entanglement which encompassed me on all sides in tibet rendered it difficult for me to make geographical discoveries, but it stimulated my ambition. therefore i remember with particular warmth and sympathy all those who, in virtue of their temporary power in the world, sought to raise obstacles in my way. we then talked on various subjects. he wished to see our weapons, and asked if he could buy a revolver. "no; you shall have it as a present, cartridges and all, if you will let me go the way i have proposed." "h'm!" "you must procure us all the provisions we need for two months, besides new shoes, clothing, tobacco, horses, mules, yaks." "with pleasure; make out a list of all you want." it was done at once. meal, _tsamba_, tea, sugar, japanese cigarettes, which were said to be procurable--all was to be brought from tsongka, whither mounted men were sent the same day across the tsangpo and over the nevu-la. everything was to be in our tents in a week. the rest could be obtained from saka-dzong. in the evening i paid an equally long return visit to my valiant friend pun dorche tsuen, and at night i consigned my letter to lien darin to the flames. ah no! no chinese interference in tibeto-swedish affairs. on the th we remained quiet and visited one another by the hour together. the two governors sat on benches fastened to the wall, rindor and oang gye on mats on the floor, and all four played at dice. the two dice were shaken in a wooden bowl, and turned out on to a round piece of skin. the markers were small indian snailshells. then they played with chinese dominoes. meanwhile they drank tea, smoked pipes, sang, joked, laughed, and moved the bricks with wonderful and graceful dexterity. ngavang won ten _tengas_ and was greatly elated. in this way they pass the time when the day's work is done. rindor is the governor's private secretary, and on a bench and a table lay piles of documents and letters, written on coarse chinese paper, and folded up one on another. the governor's correspondence now comes to semoku, and his daily work must run its course. his province, saka, is very extensive, and he states with some pride that his power stretches to sangsang in the east, to the nevu-la in the south, to the marium-la in the west, and northwards some days' journey beyond kamba tsenam's tent. [illustration: , . soldiers of the garrison of saka-dzong, belonging to our escort.] [illustration: . armed tibetan from the country between the teri-nam-tso and the dangra-yum-tso.] [illustration: . boy with small gun on the southern shore of the teri-nam-tso.] the illustrious gentlemen were much amused with my costume. "you are a sahib," they said; "you were for six weeks the guest of the tashi lama; you employ one caravan after another, and leave a quantity of money behind you, and yet are dressed more shabbily than any of your servants." at night their horses and mules were driven to the station-house by soldiers, and we ought to have taken the same precaution, for our horses were attacked by wolves. the brown horse we had bought two weeks before for rupees had his two right feet tied together lest he should run away, and the wolves directed their attack on him, as he could not escape, ate him up, and took the head off with them. at any rate it was missing in the morning from the skeleton, which was pretty closely stripped. on april we rode together on the road down the semoku valley, which runs to the upper brahmaputra (illust. ). this we left on the left hand, as well as the _tasam_, and ascended a valley where the little village of ushy with its stone huts and barley fields is situated. the inhabitants are at home only at seedtime and harvest; the rest of the year they are away, tending their sheep. thence we proceeded the following day to the pass ushy-la. the way is marked by a succession of _mani_ heaps and _chhortens_, and the pass by rods so thin as to be invisible at a distance, and the streamers they carry look like a flock of tied birds. a little farther to the north-west we crossed the pass gye-la, where chomo-uchong makes a fine display, and soon after we were on the main pass of the same name ( , feet). from a hill near, the eye can sweep over all the horizon, the peaks and glaciers of the himalayas, chomo-uchong, and close at hand to the south-south-east the brahmaputra valley with the river meandering in several arms. we encamped on the bank of the sachu-tsangpo, which flows into the chaktak-tsangpo west of saka-dzong. here also lies a votive block of a hard green rock, covered with offerings, bits of butter, and streamers. the st of may was celebrated by a march over the lamlung-la, a difficult pass, on the saddle of which, , feet high, the traveller is again rewarded by a magnificent view over this complicated sea of mountains. from here chomo-uchong's seven summits appear in a compact group; the central one is of a regular conical shape and is pure white all over; the others consist chiefly of black cliffs and projections, from among which issue small blue-tinged glaciers. the length of the massive corresponds to that of lunpo-gangri, of which it is a continuation. in the namchen valley our united camp formed quite a little village, for all the chiefs of the country were convened to a consultation. and here it was that rindor and pemba tsering joined us with all the goods we had ordered from saka-dzong. we stayed here two days. the weather was raw and chilly, and the temperature constantly fell to . °. there was no spring as yet. but the wild-geese were on their migration, and when tubges once shot a gander at a neighbouring brook, oang gye came to complain to me. he was quite overcome at this brutal murder, and could not conceive how my servant could be so heartless and cruel. "you are right," i answered; "i am myself sorry for the wild-geese. but you must remember that we are travellers, and dependent for our livelihood on what the country yields. often the chase and fishing are our only resources." "in this district you have plenty of sheep." "is it not just as wrong to kill sheep and eat their flesh?" "no!" he exclaimed, with passionate decision; "that is quite another matter. you surely will not compare sheep to wild-geese. there is as much difference between them as between sheep and human beings. for, like human beings, the wild-geese marry and have families. and if you sever such a union by a thoughtless shot, you cause sorrow and misery. the goose which has just been bereaved of her mate will seek him fruitlessly by day and night, and will never leave the place where he has been murdered. her life will be empty and forlorn, and she will never enter upon a new union, but will remain a widow, and will soon die of grief. a woman cannot mourn more deeply than she will, and the man who has caused such sorrow draws down a punishment on himself." the excellent oang gye was quite inconsolable. we might shoot antelopes, wild sheep, and partridges as much as ever, if only we left the wild-geese in peace. i had heard in the lob country similar tales of the sorrow of the swans when their union was dissolved by death. it was moving to witness oang gye's tenderness and great sympathy for the wild-geese, and i felt the deepest respect for him. many a noble and sensitive heart beats in the cold and desolate valleys of tibet. chapter lxix kamba tsenam, father of the robbers at the namchen camp we bought a large supply of rice, meal, barley and _tsamba_, sugar, stearin candles, soap, and five hundred cigarettes,--all procured from tsongka. a rich merchant, ngutu, who owned fifty horses and mules and two hundred yaks, sold us two mules and a horse, besides cloth for new garments, boots, and caps. abdul kerim hastened to make me a tibetan costume of fine lhasa cloth; on my head i wore a chinese silk cap swathed with a red turban; i stalked about in silk chinese boots, and had an elegant sword in my girdle. in my ladaki saddle with its variegated fittings, and riding a milk-white stallion, i looked in this makeshift outfit quite like a tibetan of rank (illust. ). [illustration: . trooper of the escort. . tibetan of teri-nam-tso. . young shepherd of bongba. sketches by the author.] here a large meeting was held in dorche tsuen's tent, where the question of my return route was discussed. dorche tsuen insisted on the necessity of my crossing the samye-la again, and i answered, as before, that i intended to take no other way than over a pass east of the samye-la. then he appealed to the nomads at hand, who no doubt had received their instructions beforehand, and they all affirmed that the chang-tang could be reached by no other pass than the samye-la. however, we had heard from the horse-driver on the gebuk-la that a way led over the mountains directly north of kamba tsenam's tent. but then the nomads, who would have to let us yaks on hire, replied that the road was so bad that we could not reach the tarok-tso in three months, and that, for their part, they would not let their yaks go, and come to grief on the detritus of the pass. then we offered to buy yaks, but found no one who would sell his animals. after dorche tsuen had informed me that those who travelled from saka into bongba with hired yaks had to change both men and pack animals at buptö on the upper buptsang-tsangpo, i proposed to divide my caravan into two sections, one of which, under abdul kerim, would cross the samye-la, while i with the other half marched over the eastern pass; we would meet on the lower course of the buptsang-tsangpo. ngutu, a genial old man of mongolian origin, supported me, giving it as his opinion that it was of no consequence which pass i crossed myself, provided that the main part of the caravan went over the samye-la; but dorche tsuen was still obstinate, and tried to frighten me with a tale of ten well-armed robbers whose haunts were in the country north of the mountain i wished to pass over. "if the country is unsafe," i returned, "it is your duty to provide me with an escort of ten soldiers." "the soldiers belong to the garrison of saka-dzong, and cannot be employed elsewhere." "listen to me, dorche tsuen, and do not be so short-sighted. if you give me ten soldiers, you will be able to control my movements. i will pay them rupees a man per day for their services, that is, rupees a day altogether. you can well believe that i cannot afford such a great expense for a long time, and therefore you will have a guarantee that i shall not take a long roundabout way. when i have rejoined abdul kerim's party i shall be beyond the limits of your province, and the escort can return." "that is true," exclaimed two voices in the crowd; "if he pays rupees a day, he cannot go far." dorche tsuen rose and called some of the other men to a consultation outside the tent, and when he came back again he said that i might have my wish, if i would sign a written declaration that i took upon myself all responsibility for the consequences, for he wished to be free from blame if any misfortune befell me. of course i promised to sign such a document with pleasure. thus the matter was arranged. nima tashi (illust. ), a powerful man of pleasant aspect, and dressed in a loose sheepskin, was to be chief of the bodyguard, and as he said he did not know the road to the north, panchor (illust. ), a man fifty-five years of age, was ordered to act as guide. he was called into the tent. i had not seen him before, but abdul kerim said that he was the same man who on april had shown us the way to the foot of the kinchen-la, and that he had seen me and muhamed isa last year in saka-dzong. he was a little, thin, wiry man who had killed eighty yaks with the gun he always carried. to everything that was said to him he agreed submissively with "la lasso, la lasso." we could see that he was sly and knavish--just the stuff we wanted. with him and all the other company we rode on may over the pass gara-la, and from its rather flat threshold saw kamba tsenam's tent still in the same place. here we crossed, then, our route of april , and had made a loop round the snowy massive chomo-uchong. panchor was the elder brother of kamba tsenam, and it struck me as curious that when the governor of saka pitched his tent beside that of the wealthy nomad, the latter did not come out to welcome him. now a collection of tents had sprung up in the valley larger than at any of the foregoing camps. couriers and messengers came and went, small yak caravans came up to the tents with provisions for the officials, and nomads had come in from the neighbourhood to have a look at the eccentric european who had come down like a bomb into the country and had been caught at last. [illustration: . guests at the opening of my tent on the bank of the teri-nam-tso. (over the opening a plaid is stretched as a protection against the sun.)] [illustration: . the yaks fording the river soma-tsangpo.] late in the evening kamba tsenam came sneaking into my tent. he was very mysterious, and said that the governor and his people had no notion that he was paying me a visit in the darkness. he wished only to say that panchor could very well contrive that i should go almost anywhere i liked. the escort had strict orders from the authorities, but only panchor knew the way, and could easily throw dust into the eyes of the other men. i had only to make my wishes known to panchor and he would manage the rest. if also a band of fifty robbers swept down on us like a whirlwind, they would disperse like sheep as soon as they knew that panchor with his never-failing gun was with us. kamba tsenam thus revealed himself as a cunning rogue, who had not the slightest respect for the authorities of saka. the old fool promised that i should travel by the roads i wished if, in return, i would contrive that he should be governor of saka. what he said was only idle talk, and he himself was a fellow to be on our guard against. there was not a man in bongba who had ever heard of him, and his great power existed only in his own imagination. in his own village he was known and flattered on account of his great wealth, and he boasted that no robber dared to touch his flocks, for he was their trusted friend. "i am the father of all the robbers," he said modestly. i willingly accepted his invitation to visit his tent next morning. when i had passed it the first time it was in a snowstorm, and i had looked upon it as a serious menace to my plans and my freedom. almost like a thief in the night, expecting to be discovered every moment, i had stolen past the black nomad dwelling. now i approached it as an honoured guest, only barked at by dogs. the huge tent, made of a number of pieces of material, is supported by three veritable masts, firmly fixed in the ground. a stone wall runs along the inner side, and in front of it are heaps of _tsamba_, rice, and corn sacks. baskets and boxes stand full of clothing. the altar, a wooden shelf and a table are laden with _gaos_, images, votive bowls, praying mills, and holy books. in one corner stand perhaps a dozen guns with streamers on their rests, and in another as many swords. on the hearth, built on the left of the entrance, always stands a large tea-kettle boiling, ready for any guests that may come in. a battery of wooden cups stands on a stone slab ready for use. the bluish grey smoke rises up towards the chimney opening. far away from the entrance, at the right corner, the master of the house has his seat of honour, a small divan with a stool table before it, and before this again a fireplace, like a hollow cracked cannon-ball, filled with reeking dung embers. some of kamba tsenam's shepherds are sitting in a group drinking tea, in another part some small black children are playing, and in a third the women of the tent are tittering. with pure white short hair, wrinkled like crushed parchment, stone-blind, and dressed like monna vanna only in a cloak, kamba tsenam's eighty-three-year-old mother sits on her bed and swings her prayer-mill with the right hand, while her left hand keeps the beads of her rosary in constant motion. she prattles and murmurs prayers, sometimes drops her rosary to catch a troublesome insect, and sometimes lets the prayer-mill stop when she is plunged in vague dreamy thought. twice she asked if the european were still there and if he had been offered tea and food. may , the last day we enjoyed dorche tsuen's society, had to be celebrated in some way. i invited the whole party to a festival in the camp. the two governors and oang gye took their places in my tent, in the middle of which our tea-cups were filled on an improvised table. the day had been cold and muggy and snow fell, but we warmed our hands over the fire, and sat wrapped in skin coats like four tibetans of rank, while the populace formed a circle outside. a fire was lighted in the middle and was maintained by dung from four sacks. it was pitch dark outside, but yellow flames threw a bright gleam over the dark tibetans, servants, herdsmen, nomads and soldiers, women and children, youths and old men. they stood in wondering groups in their skin coats blackened by the smoke of fires, bare-headed, with long black tresses hanging over their shoulders. the light from the fire made a vain attempt to gild them. they stood out in sharp effective relief against the deep shadows (illust. ). [illustration: . nima tashi, commandor of the government-escort on the way to the teri-nam-tso.] [illustration: . nuns of mendong.] [illustration: . a high lama of chokchu.] [illustration: . the prior of selipuk. water-colour sketches by the author.] i charged abdul kerim to do his very best, and he informed me that the programme would contain fifteen items, song and dance following alternately without a pause. the first item was a dance with sticks to represent swords; the second, a hunting episode: a wild animal, composed of two crouching men with a piece of felt over them and two sticks for horns, went prancing round the fire; a hunter with his gun crept about, took aim at the monster, killed him with a single shot, and performed with his friends a triumphal dance around the carcase. then followed a ladaki dance, little gulam leading the troop, and after that suen executed his remarkable dance before a lady, represented by a stick he held before him. all the others kept time by clapping their hands, and invited the tibetans to join in, and my guests in the tent were convulsed with laughter. the mohammedans executed a yarkand dance with kutus as leader. they danced round the fire, swinging their arms and skirts, and between the fire and the tent they appeared only as black profiles, while on the other side they were lighted up by the reddish-yellow flames, and their perspiring faces shone like bronze. a song followed, waking a sonorous echo in the mountains, and the tibetans recognizing the air joined in, and all the while the men clapped their hands. the smoke from the fire took part in the dances and sometimes flew right in the faces of the spectators, the singing became louder, the merriment more uncontrolled, and the nomads laughed till they had to support themselves with their hands on their knees, as suen revolved in grotesque pirouettes over the arena and the nomads tried to imitate him. the clumsy abdullah performed an indescribable dance with his back bent back, and when he bent himself so much that he fell backwards to the edge of the fire, the delight of the spectators was unbounded: they laughed till they were breathless, hopped about and uttered wild yells, while the performer shook the sparks from his coat and retired to his corner (illusts. , , , ). the tibetans evidently enjoyed themselves; perhaps they had never had such an amusing evening in their lives. dorche tsuen said something of the sort. ngavang gave way to his kindly laugh, and oang gye enjoyed the unwonted spectacle like a child. for my part, i dreamed awhile and thought of the unexpected and singular manner in which fate had allowed me to choose my course. through the clouds of smoke i seemed to see all old asia before me, and the adventures of past years behind me. a carnival of old camp-scenes danced before my mind's eye, expiring like shooting-stars in the night--merry songs which came to an end among other mountains and the dying sound of strings and flutes. and i was surprised that i had not had enough of these things and that i was not tired of the light of camp-fires. the wind rises, the snow falls thickly and hisses in the fire, and the flakes are lighted up from below. with white hair and shoulders the tibetans look like mist figures, and behind them hang the dark curtains of night, from which is heard from time to time a pony's neigh or a dog's bark. the last sack of fuel is emptied over the leaping flames, burns up and sinks, and only embers are left, glowing in the ceaselessly falling snow. then my grateful guests rise at midnight, distribute gifts to the performers, say farewell, and vanish like ghosts in the darkness to seek their own tents. now night reigns alone over the valley, the surroundings lie silent and still, and only the pelting snow makes a swishing sound against the tent. on the morning of may the country was again white as in the depth of winter. quietly and lightly as cotton-wool the flakes fell, and all, the tibetans included, were more wrapped up than usual. the governors and their retinue came to pay a farewell visit, and then i went out with them to their horses, took a last farewell, and thanked them for all the kindness they had shown me in spite of the trouble i had given them. dorche tsuen expressed a hope that we should meet again. it is much easier to get on with men and lead them where you wish if you treat them kindly and gently; you gain nothing by violence, harshness, and threats. the governor was a fine upright figure on his horse; his face was entirely covered with dark spectacles and a red hood to protect it from the blast (illust. ). his troop of mounted men was considerably diminished after his escort had been told off to follow me. they struck their heels into their horses and soon disappeared up the hill on the way to the gara-la. [illustration: . two lamas of mendong.] [illustration: . my sheep crossing the river soma-tsangpo.] my caravan was now to be divided into two parties. only five men were to follow me, namely, gulam, lobsang, kutus, tubges, and kunchuk. we had eight goats to supply milk; our old sheep had been sold for a mere trifle. a hundred rupees for the first five days were paid in advance to the escort under nima tashi. no agreement was made with panchor, but he was to be paid well if he took me where i wished. the other seven ladakis were ordered to proceed under the command of abdul kerim over the samye-la to the buptsang-tsangpo, follow the stream slowly downwards, and wait for us near its mouth in the tarok-tso. whatever they did, they were not to leave the buptsang-tsangpo, or we might lose one another. rindor and pemba tsering were deputed to follow them over the samye-la to buptö, to bring the kebyang people to reason if they refused transport animals. my baggage was reduced to a minimum, and i took with me only a thousand rupees. abdul kerim was responsible for the remainder of the cash. he was an honest man, but a noodle. some nomads accompanied us with six yaks for the baggage (illusts. , , ). though, according to our plans, we were to be separated only a few weeks, the parting was touching, and many childish tears trickled down weather-beaten cheeks. we had bought more horses, and all my five ladakis could ride. we rode up the valley in close order; the bottom was full of loose rotten ice, lumpy tufts of grass with mice-holes among them, frozen springs, and detritus of hard green schist. we marched north-eastwards, and then due west, over the small double pass shalung-la, and down to the gyegong valley, where we encamped at kamba tsenam's sheepfolds to buy some sheep for food. the escort had got there first, and sat in their black tent drinking tea. we sat talking with kamba tsenam and panchor when a tall and strongly built young fellow came and sat down at the opening of my tent. "i have seen the bombo before," he said, "in the neighbourhood of nakchu. you had a buryat and a lama with you. that is seven years ago." "quite right. have you brought me a message?" "no; i only wish to ask if you are disposed to buy two good yaks from me. you can have them for half their value." "thanks; we do not want any yaks now. what is your occupation?" "robber!" he answered, without blinking. after he had gone, kamba tsenam informed me that some time ago the man had killed a nomad in rukyok, and now was come to treat about the compensation for the murder. the authorities were looking eagerly for the band to which he belonged, and kamba tsenam and panchor knew exactly where they were hiding, but would not betray them lest they should be robbed of their property in revenge. kamba tsenam and his brother were evidently on very confidential terms with the robbers of the country, and i very much suspected that they were in league with some of them. in panchor we had certainly an actual robber chief as guide. he himself told us that the devashung had tried to engage him in their service as a spy and guide, when they wished to track up an evaded robber band, but he would not consent. he knew that we had a large quantity of money with us, and we were not too safe in his company. he could very well arrange a night attack and in the end play the innocent. he pretended not to know the country beyond a couple of days' journey to the north, but when he inspected our six horses he said: "this one you bought from an old nomad to the west of sha-kangsham, and this one from tsongpun tashi." if he knew every horse in the country, he must also know the country very well. i asked him to go over the names of our camping-places to the north, but he gave only the first two, and added: "the rest you will know as you go on, and if i cannot find them myself, there will always be some robbers i can ask." on may we took leave of the old robber chief kamba tsenam, and rode in close order up to the pass gyegong-la, which has a height of , feet. the pass stands on a distinctly marked chain, which is called kanchung-gangri, and it was very interesting to find that all the water on the northern side of the pass flowed to the upper chaktak-tsangpo. kanchung-gangri is therefore not part of the main range of the trans-himalaya, and the gyegong-la is only a secondary pass. the great watershed lay some days' journey farther to the north. on the northern side we passed a warm spring, memo-chutsen, which at the orifice had a temperature of . °, while in another the water boiled and steamed. the springs are surrounded by sinter, terraces, and basins in which sick people bathe. panchor had an old field-glass and diligently looked out for robbers and wild yaks. he said that we ought always to keep together in case we were attacked by robbers he did not know, and he bade us help with our weapons in the defence. the camp this day was no. . chapter lxx the seventh crossing of the trans-himalaya--to the heavenly lake of the throne mountain twenty-nine degrees of frost on the night of may . winter instead of spring might be coming. a month ago it was much warmer in bongba. but now we are mounting up to the heights of the trans-himalaya, the weather is cold, raw, and windy, the temperature seldom above freezing-point, and to-day the whole country is again buried in snow. [illustration: . village below lunkar-gompa on the tarok-tso.] [illustration: . mendong monastery west of the teri-nam-tso.] [illustration: . selipuk monastery south-west of the nganglaring-tso. water-colour sketches by the author.] [illustration: . holiday costumes and ornaments of tibetan women of kyangrang in the trans-himalaya. water-colour sketches by the author.] we ride northwards and descend from a small saddle to the chaktak-tsangpo, near which we have to halt a while to warm ourselves at a fire. the river bends to the west-south-west to break through kanchung-gangri. on its bank is seen a tent, eight horses, and a hundred sheep. panchor went off to-day to stalk a herd of ninety wild yaks, and nima tashi, the captain of the bodyguard, was sure that a robber band was in the tent, for no nomads are seen in this cold country. the escort, particularly nima tashi, were dreadfully afraid of robbers; and panchor had told us that we could make them go anywhere by frightening the soldiers with robbers. when panchor appeared again, he said that the suspected tent was really inhabited by the band which had the murder in rukyok on its conscience, and he added that if the people in rukyok would not let the matter rest, the band threatened to commit new crimes in the country. i asked why the authorities did not seize the chief now when he was so near, but panchor shook his head and said that if he was taken and killed, thirty others would be down on the country, and that would be worse. a bandit's life in tibet is on the whole a very pleasant one. following the stream upwards we came to the small lake lapchung-tso, entirely covered with ice, and set up camp ( , feet) on its eastern shore. it is enclosed among hills and surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains. to the south kanchung-gangri appears in all its splendour. the snow is much more abundant on its northern than on its southern side, and in the hollows between its summits three large and several small glaciers, short and steep, are seen. from all the valleys on the north, north-west, and north-east brooks descend to the lapchung-tso, and from the southern extremity of the lake the chaktak-tsangpo issues, and a little distance farther south-west breaks through kanchung-gangri. may . - . ° at this time of year! we move north-eastwards along the eastern shore of lapchung-tso, and follow a well-beaten road consisting of quite fifty parallel paths. it is very interesting to draw another line on the map of tibet through a part unknown before. here travel the merchants whose destination is east bongba and chokchu, and here passes a large part of the salt traffic from tabie-tsaka, as well as pilgrims on their way home from kang-rinpoche. the last usually follow the _tasam_ on their outward journey, but return by the northern route--this is, that the whole pilgrimage may make a _kore_ or a loop of salvation. our direction becomes now more northerly and we go up the sangmo-bertik valley, where the bottom is filled with ice clear as glass, but there is good pasturage on the flanks. the country is quite flat between kanchung-gangri and the main crest of the trans-himalaya. in the longitudinal valley between the two we see to the north, ° w., the comparatively low saddle dicha-la, which is, however, a watershed of the first rank, for it parts the water flowing to the ocean from the isolated drainage of the plateau. over the dicha-la runs the lately mentioned road to the buptsang-tsangpo and tabie-tsaka. north, north-west, and north-east are several _gangris_ with firn-fields and snow, all belonging to the main range of the trans-himalaya. to the east lies a pass, the nakbo-kongdo-la, with the nakbo-gongrong-gangri; over this pass, which also seems to lie on the main watershed, a road runs to targo-gangri and dangra-yum-tso. between raga-tasam and ombo a road crosses the tsalam-nakta-la, mostly frequented by salt caravans. from camp we could still see chomo-uchong to the south, ° e. a member of the robber band we saw the day before paid us a visit and was evidently an old friend of panchor. he gave us many interesting details of the teri-nam-tso and mendong-gompa, which were afterwards found to be perfectly correct. i never could make out panchor. either he was in league with the devil himself, or he was a fully fledged knave at his own risk and reckoning. he now assured me that it would be the easiest thing in the world to take me to the teri-nam-tso and perhaps also to the dangra-yum-tso. o gods of naktsang, slumber in this cold spring and do not warn your earthly vassals until it is too late! yes, if i could only contrive to cross the trans-himalaya twice more, i would then willingly leave this mighty range to rest a thousand years under a veil of clouds and glittering snowfields. it is strange that this wide country, so near to the indian frontier, should have remained absolutely unknown till our late times. i am proud and delighted to know that i am the first white man to penetrate to this wilderness. panchor advised us to stay a day in the valley, for we should not find pasture as good as here for a long time. i wondered how he could know that, seeing that he had said recently that he had never been north of the sangmo-bertik-la. on the night of may the thermometer fell to °. we found ourselves in a great enlargement of the trans-himalaya called lap, and this region is noted for its severe climate. even in the middle of summer, when it is warm everywhere else, it is cold in lap. the ice breaks up on lapchung-tso only in the beginning of june after all the other ice is melted. from the map it is seen that many considerable rivers, flowing north and south, take their rise in this lofty swell. [illustration: . crossing the kangsham river.] the day's march took us up to higher ground, and the way was dreadful--not a road at all, but a track winding among granite boulders and yak-moss. and next day it was still worse. in raw wintry weather, with a temperature of . °, we wound up the ascent extremely slowly, where all small and loose material had been removed, so that the animals might at any moment break their legs among the stones. here no other vegetation was seen but a moss, yellow as the yolk of an egg, and another shading into red. on the left we passed three small glaciers with a blue tinge on their fronts. by one of them some wild yaks walked meditatively. the weather was so cold that we had to stop frequently to warm our hands at a small dung fire. panchor insisted strongly on these halts "in order that the bombo may not be tired"; but i suspect it was chiefly because he wanted a puff from his chinese _gansa_. though it was a great struggle for our horses, we came at last to the sangmo-bertik-la, at the giddy height of , feet, and now i stood for the seventh time on the main crest of the trans-himalaya and the watershed of the great indian rivers. the view was closed in on all sides and limited by adjacent heights. on a sharp ridge to the north-west seven yaks were tramping in the snow. panchor and one of the soldiers went on foot in pursuit of them--to mount these steep hills on foot and carry heavy, clumsy guns is tough work. we rode on among the granite boulders; lower down green porphyry begins. the gradient became more gentle, and where we encamped we could scarcely perceive in which direction the valley sloped. the day had been stormy, and the blast continued on may . little puppy went out to look at the morning, but crept back again and lay on his mat. takkar was still irreconcilable towards his countrymen, the tibetans, and inspired the greatest respect in all the escort and panchor. we rode on through the valley northwards, past numerous summer camping-grounds, and recognized the characteristic low relief of chang-tang in contrast to the more deeply excavated valleys on the southern side of the trans-himalaya. at the mouth of a side-valley running in from the west the escort came to a halt, and nima tashi explained that our road to buptö, where we had agreed to meet abdul kerim's party, ran up this valley, and that they did not intend to go farther north. they now showed their teeth for the first time, and were not so pliant as we thought. they excused themselves on the ground that their yaks were tired, that their provisions were at an end, and that they had no orders to accompany us more than fourteen days. panchor, the scoundrel, took their part, and frightened us with the chief of bongba-chushar, who took tribute from all the robbers of the country, and would certainly plunder us if we passed through his domain. after long consideration we decided to camp where we were, to thoroughly discuss the situation. before the sun had set i had won them over, though it was chiefly the chink of silver rupees which made them forget all their scruples. it was agreed that they should receive their rupees every evening, and i gave them a goat in addition, as their supply of meat was at an end. so on may we rode farther north in blinding snow, and passed numerous _manis_, nine standing in one row. the valley became more open, and was more than a mile broad. we found no water at the camp, but two of our yaks were laden with blocks of ice. every evening we sat an hour conversing with panchor, and it was easy to check his statements. i told him once and for all, that if he did not speak the truth he would receive no extra gratuity. in the evening he declared that there were dreadful apparitions at muhamed isa's grave, and that at night fearful shrieks and groans could be heard from beneath. he was quite convinced that spirits and demons haunted the grave, and said that no tibetan ventured to go near the place; this was well, for consequently the grave would not be desecrated. [illustration: . the village of lunkar.] [illustration: . group of tibetans at the teri-nam-tso.] he gave me also much valuable information about the country round nam-tso or tengri-nor, where he was born. he had gone twice round nam-tso, thrice round tso-mavang, and twelve times round kang-rinpoche, which he intended to visit again soon, to complete the thirteenth circuit of salvation. he considered it superfluous to make the circuit of dangra-yum-tso and targo-gangri, for he had already tramped so far that all his sins must be forgiven, and he was sure of promotion in the next incarnation. panchor had not the slightest doubt that a man or horse which had drunk of the water of tso-mavang or nam-tso was for ever immune from illness, robbers, and wolves. "it is just as though a fire blazed out of that part of the body where the wolf intends to seize him," he affirmed. but he considerably modified his statements after i had told him that we had a mule which had drunk for a whole month of the water of tso-mavang and yet had been torn in pieces by wolves at gartok. "yes," he replied, "the protection is only for tibetans and their animals, not for europeans and their animals. and if the wolf itself drank of the holy water it would avail nothing; he would still seize his prey." on the th of may we set out again in a snowstorm, whereas i had been looking forward ever since january to spring. it caused great merriment, both among the tibetans and the ladakis, when one of the escort who did not know kunchuk's name, spoke of him as "that there calf." we had travelled a good long way before they ceased to laugh at the newly invented title, which stuck to kunchuk ever after. the valley opens out on to a plain where kiangs, goa and pantholops antelopes are plentiful. from the ridge of a hill we see to the east another still larger plain, beyond which targo-gangri would be visible if the mountain were not shrouded in clouds and falling snow. buchu-tso is a small pool which dries up in summer. there lay three black tents, and beyond another hill in the locality kangmar, seven. when we encamped, sixty men, women, and children came out and watched us. they had gathered together here to pay their taxes to a collector from saka. the district is called bongba-chushar, and the elderly gova came to visit us. he was a discreet man and put no awkward questions. panchor, who was accustomed to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, had probably given him an account of us beforehand. it seems he was terribly frightened, for he had never in his life seen a european. however, he gave us much valuable information about the country, among other things, that the little twin lakes mun-tso lay to the north of the barong-la and east of the teri-nam-tso, not south of the dangra-yum-tso as on nain sing's map, which i had myself found to be incorrect. on the way to the teri-nam-tso we should be able in two places to steal goose eggs; it was forbidden to the tibetans for three years to take them, but a european could permit himself anything without having to answer for it to the gods of heaven and earth. after a day's rest we marched north-north-east to the broad longitudinal valley of soma-tsangpo. the river descends from the east-south-east, and probably has its source in the great mountain system we saw from the shuru-tso. here it runs west-north-west, but afterwards turns north and north-eastwards, and therefore makes a sharp curve before it enters the teri-nam-tso. its bed is flat and shallow, and at the time carried down about cubic feet of water per second, but it is so full in summer that sometimes it cannot be forded. we camped at a spring in a valley at the farther side, and on may ascended the adjacent pass, dongchen-la, and on its south slopes twenty-four ovis ammon sheep were a fine sight. on the night of the th, the minimum temperature was . °, and now it felt as if spring were really come, or even summer. the way ran north-west up a steep valley, where granite and dark schists were twice observed _in situ_, to the small pass teta-la ( , feet), where we had at length a free view over the longed-for lake teri-nam-tso, nain sing's tede-nam-tso, which he never visited nor saw, but only heard of, and inserted with a broken line quite correctly on his map. the only mistake he made was to draw the lake longer from north to south instead of from east to west. to obtain an uninterrupted view we climbed up a height on the north side of the pass ( , feet). the scene here displayed in all directions was one of the grandest and most memorable tableaus i have seen in tibet. the "heavenly lake" lay like a great flat-cut turquoise framed in mountains and hills shaded in pink, red, yellow, and purple, which, towards the horizon, gradually passed into a light blue veil. only to the south-east quadrant is the view obstructed by adjacent heights belonging to the chain on the crest of which we stand, and which runs along the southern shore of the lake, but elsewhere the view is open, dizzy, boundless, and the eyes scan both sha-kangsham's majestic peak and targo-gangri's many-headed ridge, and the seven-times-mounted main range of the trans-himalaya, with its snow-crowned heights rising in a row of bright white domes to the south. many other peaks and domes with eternal snow rise over this sea of tumbled waves, but, after all, the finest sight is the lake itself, which charms and fascinates the spectator by its intense ultramarine hue, a couple of shades deeper and stronger than turquoise. when one first comes to the saddle of the pass and this wealth of colouring strikes the retina, one can scarcely restrain an exclamation of astonishment and admiration. we look down straight on the lake, and its southern shore is just below us. to the west it extends for two days' journey, and widens out enormously, while to the east it contracts and seems to stretch a good day's journey. due north-east the blue surface is broken by a steep rocky islet, with a level shore only in the east, and further east one fancies one can detect the hollow where the basin of the dangra-yum-tso skirts the northern foot of the divine targo-gangri mountain. beautiful weather, not a cloud on the blue vault of heaven, calm and quiet, only the gentlest whisper over the hills sounding in the ears like the tinkle of small bells and the vibration of strings. one feels overwhelmed by this grand beauty, which speaks more powerfully to the senses than the high mass of any archbishop. i stood several hours up here and made a hopeless attempt to sketch the landscape, but succeeded in producing only a feeble imitation of the reality. from the teta-la one commands a very considerable area of the heart of tibet. how extensive is the line of sha-kangsham! how many are the points from which i have viewed this wonderful mountain on different journeys! like a gigantic beacon, a marvellous landmark, it raises its snow-covered dome above desolate tibet. and we were far from its dripping glaciers when for the last time it sank below the horizon like a dream of snow and roses. at last we had to drag ourselves away and follow the track of the other men to a little dreary valley where they had encamped near a couple of tents. even here the view was remarkable. how i now missed my old tried boat, and how gladly i would have glided with sail and oar over the heavenly lake! [illustration: . the village of lunkar from the temple hill.] [illustration: . the southern shore of manasarowar with grazing yaks.] we remained four whole days at this miserable camp with its fine view ( , feet). the fact was that dangra-yum-tso now for the fourth time began to haunt my dreams, and as the holy lake was only four days' journey to the east, i would try to reach its shore. but nima tashi and panchor put all kinds of difficulties in the way: their yaks would perish where there was no grazing, and it was impossible to hire yaks, for all had lately gone to tabie-tsaka for salt. i proposed to go on my own horses and meet them at mendong-gompa after the excursion, and to this they made no objection at first. if i had not been by this time heartily sick of tibet, i would have played them a pretty trick, and gone not only to dangra-yum-tso, but further eastwards until i was stopped. but i was weary of geography, discoveries, and adventures, and wanted to get home. and besides, on comparing the lands east and west of the teri-nam-tso, i considered the latter far better worth visiting. the former i had traversed by three routes, and two other travellers had been there, but no one had been in the west, and we knew nothing about it except the uncertain data which the jesuits had gathered from the natives two hundred years ago. in fact this land was the least known part of tibet, and the road to the nganglaring-tso crosses the blank patch in its longer direction. if the authorities had asked me which way i would choose, i should have answered, the way to the nganglaring-tso. it would have been wisest to close at once with nima tashi's suggestion to go straight to mendong-gompa. but their opposition egged me on to break another lance for dangra-yum-tso. i ought to have remembered that he who grasps at all loses all, for i was within an ace of losing mendong-gompa into the bargain. for when nima tashi saw that he could not make me give way, he secretly sent a message to tagla tsering, the chief of sangge-ngamo-buk, the district we were in and which is subject to naktsang. and tagla tsering came. last year he had been in lundup's train when the latter had stopped us at the foot of targo-gangri and prevented us from going to the shore of the holy lake. now he looked very grand and important. over a mantle of panther skin he wore a belt of six bright silver _gaos_, and in the belt was stuck a sword with a silver scabbard inlaid with turquoise and coral, and at his side rattled knives and other pendent articles. over all, he wore a long reddish-violet mantle, and on his head a chinese silk cap. he was accompanied by six horsemen, and, the day after, twenty more arrived, all armed to the teeth with guns, swords, and lances; all in picturesque bright-coloured costumes, some with tall brimmed hats on their heads, others with bandages round their foreheads, tagla tsering evidently took the matter seriously, and tried to get over me by talking of raising the militia (illust. ). the powerful chief meanwhile entered my tent, friendly and pleased, and, like an old friend, bade me heartily welcome, and expressed his great astonishment that i had come back again, though i had been forced the year before to turn back. had i not already brought about hlaje tsering's fall, and would i cause the new governor of naktsang to meet the same fate? or what did i mean? "no, hedin sahib, you cannot travel to naktsang. turn to the west. nima tashi had no authority to lead you even to the teri-nam-tso; it was on the buptsang-tsangpo you were to meet the caravan. you talk of mendong-gompa. you have no right to travel thither. there is a nearer way to the rendezvous. mendong-gompa does not lie in my district, but all the same i have sent written notices to all the govas in the country to stop you if you travel to the monastery." poor nima tashi was half dead with fright. he had thought to frighten me, but now he saw that the chief and i sat together like old friends, drinking tea and smoking cigarettes, while he was reprimanded for bringing me too far. i told him afterwards that he was a noodle, and if he now got into trouble in saka it was his own fault. tagla tsering's good humour was much enhanced when i promised to turn back and conform to the arrangements of the chiefs on the way to mendong, if by any chance i was prevented from approaching the convent. we said farewell on may , and continued our journey westwards along the southern shore of the lake. the water is salt and has an extremely unpleasant taste, and cannot be drunk in any circumstances. lamlung-la ( , feet) is a commanding pass, which must be crossed to cut off a peninsula. the rocks are granite and green schist. hares and wild-geese are very plentiful. here and there are freshwater lagoons on the shore, which forms a very narrow belt at the foot of the mountains. the northern shore belt seems to be much broader. we followed the southern shore another day to the spring tertsi at the western extremity of the lake, which forms a large regular expansion. i heard the name of this lovely lake variously pronounced by different nomads. nain sing's tede-nam-tso is incorrect. the gova of kangmar insisted that tsari-nam-tso was the correct pronunciation, and said that the name was bestowed because _ri di tsa-la tso yore_, that is, "the lake situated at the foot of the mountain." the nomads on the shore, however, said tiri- or teri-nam-tso. at our camp were two small mountains on the shore, called techen and techung, or the great and little te, or more correctly ti. _ti_ is a lama's throne in a temple, _ri_ signifies mountain, _nam_ heaven, and _tso_ lake. the whole name therefore has the poetical meaning of the throne-mountain's heavenly lake. its height above sea-level is , feet, or feet lower than mont blanc, which, if it lifted up its head from the turquoise billows of the lake, would look like the small rocky islet in its eastern half. chapter lxxi another journey across the white patch we left on may the heavenly lake, the shore of which had never before been trodden by european or pundit, and saw its blue surface diminish to a sabre blade between the mountains, and finally disappear in the east, while we rode westwards over a wide plain, which was formerly under water. kutus, lobsang, and panchor accompanied me. we must hasten to descend on the monastery before the monks got wind of us, and the caravan and escort could come after and encamp near mendong-gompa. panchor disappeared at the first tent we passed, and was not seen again all day. he was a coward, and did not wish to be suspected of showing us the way to the sanctuary. we had therefore to shift for ourselves and find our way thither. two men and a woman came out of a nomad encampment to the track we followed, and asked if we had seen the european who was said to be travelling about bongba. in order to preserve my incognito till i came to mendong, i answered that he was coming behind with his caravan, and if they kept on the look-out they would see an amusing figure. probably they had long given up all hope of seeing the stranger. my involuntary disguise therefore did me good service, for the nomads took me to be, like the other two men, servants of the expected european. hour after hour we rode on westwards and looked in vain for a monastery. but at last it cropped up all of a sudden. we were on the top of a bank terrace feet high, skirting on the east the channel of the soma-tsangpo, and saw at the foot of the opposite terrace the quadrangular stone house of the monastery with its white walls and red frieze, _chhortens_, _mani_ heaps, and streamers, and on the east and west of it two tent villages, the upper inhabited by sixty monks, the lower by forty nuns (illust. ). the soma-tsangpo, also called nyagga, or soma-nyagga-tsangpo, now carried down to cubic feet of water, which, divided into four channels, glided over a treacherously deepening bottom. we managed, however, to ford it, and rode up to the gate of the monastery, where ten monks, good-natured but reserved, met us. i have no space to describe the religious organization of mendong-gompa. it is enough to say that hitherto it was quite unknown even by name, like so many of the convents we visited the year before. the peculiarity of this monastery is that the brothers and sisters live in black tents, and every tent is a cell. the tents had a very comfortable and attractive appearance, but the sisters, of whom i took some portraits, were hideous to behold--old unwashed harpies, barbarous and demoralized. that there is anything idyllic and fascinating in life in a nunnery in the wilds is a pure illusion, which vanishes at once at the sight of these old apes. they have also a puzzling resemblance to their male colleagues, and it is often difficult to decide whether one of them is a man or a woman (illust. ). when we left the solitary monastery on may we decided to make for the rendezvous on the buptsang-tsangpo, where abdul kerim would no doubt be uneasy at our prolonged absence. it had been arranged that we should be separated only two weeks, but before we reached the river a whole month would have passed away. [illustration: . lunkar-gompa.] [illustration: . selipuk-gompa.] so we set out early, followed the right bank of the soma-tsangpo southwards, and crossed the range, from the top of which, at the teta-la, we had first seen the teri-nam-tso. the valley is quite ½ miles broad, the strand terraces are well developed, the fall is slight, and the rush of water is seldom heard; here and there stands a tent with grazing flocks. one more sunrise and we ride through the river (illust. ), which, with the sachu-tsangpo, buptsang-tsangpo, and bogtsang-tsangpo, shares the honour of being one of the largest in the interior of tibet. through the valley goa-lung we rode up on may to the pass goa-la ( , feet), flat and easy, lying amidst pink and grey granite, and affording an instructive view over the trans-himalaya to the south. to the south-west we see, close below the pass, the small lake karong-tso--a new discovery, like everything else in this country. our route ran to the west, when we, on june , rode, with the karong-tso on our left hand, and a crest of medium height on our right, through the district bongba-kemar, following the great route of the salt caravans between raga-tasam and tabie-tsaka, which crosses the already mentioned pass tsalam-nakta-la. a high-road from naktsang joins this. at camp we had the chunit-tso near us on the north-west. although we were at the beginning of june, the minimum sank below freezing-point; in the night of the st the thermometer fell to . °. but the day was warm, nay hot, when the sun shone and the air was still. the dreary barren valleys lay waiting for the rainy season. the grass was more than scanty, for last summer the rains failed. our direction turned more to the south-west. from camp we saw, to the south, ° e., the opening of a valley through which a highway runs through bongba-kyangrang over the dicha-la to lapchung. our tibetans know excellently well how to look after themselves on the journey. on the march they twist string, talk, sing and whistle, and shout at their yaks. in pitching their camp they set up their black tent in a moment, first stretching out the ropes and fastening them into the ground with wooden pegs, and then throwing the cloth over the poles. the animals are unloaded and sent off to feed, and the men gather fuel and make a fire in the tent, where all assemble to drink tea and sleep. after a couple of hours they come out again, wrestle, play and laugh. in the dusk one may be heard singing a monotonous ballad, which must, however, be amusing, for the others laugh heartily at every verse. morning and evening they gabble their prayers, all together, murmuring like bees in a hive. an old man, whom i knew the year before, has a riding yak of his own, and brandishes the escort's prayer-mill. he is never seen without this ingenious instrument. the men are always good-natured and polite, help us to collect fuel, set up the tents and load the animals, and frequently pay us a visit. we know them all by name and are the best of friends. the temperature sank in the night only a few degrees below freezing-point, and yet a snowstorm raged almost all day long on june . we rode past a large marsh in the valley and up to the flat saddle merke-sang, with a view over the plain we crossed exactly two months before on the way to the buptsang-tsangpo. camp lay therefore in the bongba-kebyang district again. to the south-east is the pass chiptu-la, with the pilgrim route from nakchu to kang-rinpoche. to the south, ° w., rises a snowy summit, at the foot of which a road leads over the dsalung-la to tradum. as a watershed this pass is of the first rank, and it sends off a voluminous tributary to the buptsang-tsangpo. the escort sent off a messenger in advance to this river to look out for abdul kerim's party. june . it had snowed all night long, and we set out in the wildest snowstorm. it was half dark, with heavy leaden clouds; not a glimpse could be seen of the surrounding mountains; all was wet, muddy, and evil-smelling; pools of melting snow lay on the ground, and seven pilgrims from kang-rinpoche were close upon us before they emerged from the mist. we splashed through the soaked soil, but when we encamped on the shore of the buptsang-tsangpo the weather was much clearer. before i proceed further i will mention that the great province of bongba is divided into twelve _tso_ or districts, namely: parryang, laktsang, buptö, tsaruk, yeke, tarok, kebyang, kemar, parma, changma, kyangrang, and chushar. to each of these district names is usually prefixed the name of the province, as, for instance, bongba-parryang, bongba-laktsang, etc. we were now in bongba-kebyang. [illustration: . the trans-himalaya from abuk-la. (the three parts in the illustration form a continuous panorama from east to s.s.w.)] [illustration: . storm over the trans-himalaya. (to the left the way up to samye-la; valley of buptsang-tsangpo.) sketches by the author.] some tents stood on the river bank. the nomads reported that abdul kerim had gone a week before by a cross-cut over the mountain on the right, down towards the tarok-tso. there was no gova here, but two natives were ready to let us on hire the five yaks we required. they were shy and timorous, but panchor, the rogue, spoke well of us, and it was agreed that they should accompany us to the boundary of tarok-tso. on the morning of june we took farewell of nima tashi and his soldiers and of panchor, and rode between the hills on the left side of the valley down the course of the buptsang-tsangpo. soon the valley contracted to a ditch, but before long expanded again. on our left hand we had the main range of the trans-himalaya, which, however, did not present an imposing appearance, for we were always close to its foot. at times we were enveloped in a snowstorm, and at mabie-tangsam-angmo, where we camped, we made haste to get a cover over our heads. when little puppy heard the thunder rumble for the first time in his life, he was very disturbed and barked with all his might, but he could not make out whence the noise came, and he found it safest to fly into the tent and hide himself behind my bed-head. june . hail and snow! the whole country is hidden under newly-fallen snow, as far as we can see. is june to be reckoned among the winter months? we have already had nine of them. it seems as though summer were missed out this year and we were approaching another winter. but the precipitation is welcome to the nomads, for it promotes the growth of fresh grass. we march sometimes on the top, sometimes at the foot of a lofty erosion terrace to feet high, which is a characteristic feature in this large valley. geese, wild asses, goa antelopes, and foxes are everywhere. a sharp bend in the river forces us to the north-north-east for a time, and the valley is again narrow and picturesque. at tuta, which belongs to bongba-tsaruk, we encamp close by the buptsang-tsangpo, where the wild-geese swim with their yellow chicks in the clear water. eighteen degrees of frost on the night of june . yet the day was fine, and flies, gnats, and other insects were more numerous than before. as on the two preceding days we crossed several small affluents from the trans-himalaya. the buptsang valley expanded more and more, and at length became miles broad. we encamped in sight of the tarok-tso, on a level plain about feet above the surface of the lake, and with two nomad tents as our nearest neighbours. the height here was , feet. our guides were the pleasantest and most complacent we had ever had, our movements were not controlled by chiefs and soldiers, and karma puntso's camp was far away--we might have travelled wherever we liked. but the buptsang-tsangpo and the tarok-tso were the most interesting geographical features in bongba, and now we saw the lake close in front of us. our plan was to make on june for lunkar-gompa, which was seen perched on its hill with a view over the lake. but it was not to be, for at six o'clock gova pensa arrived on horseback accompanied by two servants. he was dressed in a handsome blue cloak, looked about fifty-five years old, and greeted us in a kind and friendly manner. after a while came half a dozen more horsemen--evidently we were held up again. gova pensa asked us to remain where we were for the day, for gova parvang, the district chief of tarok-shung, would come in the afternoon. he said it was impossible to see lunkar-gompa, for both the head lamas, with most of the other twenty monks, were gone two days before to kang-rinpoche, and had left the temple gates locked. only four nuns and two monks had been left behind. of abdul kerim's party he only knew that they had met gova parvang, but did not know where they were now. gova parvang did not put in an appearance, but sent instead his lieutenant, old yamba, and seventeen other unarmed men to my tent. yamba had orders not to let us go to tabie-tsaka if he valued his head. but he added that if we went there of our own accord and with our own horses he could not stop us, but yaks and provisions would not be supplied, and the nomads had orders to avoid us like the plague. would we, on the other hand, go up a valley which opened out to the south-south-west by which we could reach tuksum in seven days over the lungnak-la, he would let us hire yaks, would sell us provisions, and provide us with guides. or if we would go over the lunkar-la north-westwards to selipuk, he would also do his best to serve us. he advised us to take the latter route, for he had been present when gova parvang forced abdul kerim to take the direct road to selipuk between the tarok-tso and tabie-tsaka. we had, then, three different routes to choose from, which led over the blank space on the map of tibet, where there are no other black lines but the meridians and parallels and the word "unexplored." i did not take a minute to choose; the middle road over the lunkar-la was naturally the most desirable, for i knew that it would yield me most details to complete my knowledge of the intricate orography of the trans-himalaya. on the morning of june we hastily concluded our business, obtained yaks and guides, bought barley, rice, and _tsamba_, took farewell of the chiefs of bongba-tarok, and steered our course direct to the temple. we passed several tent villages, for the country is densely peopled. at the foot of the mountain, on the left, a warm spring rises out of the ground. below the monastery hill stand twenty small white stone cabins, each with a red frieze under the eaves and a small quadrangular yard. in front of the village are two _chhortens_ (illusts. , ). behind which two women with their children were hiding. while the caravan continued up the lunkar valley, i, with lobsang and kutus, ascended the porphyry hill to the temple, which is surrounded by a quadrangular wall. some savage dogs rushed upon us and snapped at little puppy, but there was no other sign of life. we went into the court and found the temple door closed, and fastened with a great iron lock. as i was sketching a panorama of the great beautiful lake and its wreath of mountains, six men came up and told us in an angry voice to go away. i rose up, went straight to the nearest of them, and, pointing to the path down to the village, told them that if they did not immediately make off they must put up with the consequences. they turned round meekly without saying a word. the lake stretches from north, ° w., to north, ° e., but extends further eastwards hidden behind a mountain. to the north-north-east two rocky islets are seen near the northern shore. to the north-east the buptsang-tsangpo enters a bay, and in the far distance in the same direction our old sha-kangsham appears. the water of the tarok-tso is said to be sweet, but i had no opportunity of confirming this statement. if it is correct, the lake must have a subterranean outlet to the tabie-tsaka lying to the north, though a small mountain offshoot lies between the two lakes. we left the small inhospitable monastery and a couple of small white and red houses, where the nuns have their cells, and soon rejoined our men in the lunkar valley. [illustration: . sonam ngurbu and his followers on horseback.] [illustration: . some of our horses on the way to kamba tsenam's tent.] in the night the temperature was above freezing-point for the first time. our path ascended steeply to the south-west and south, and in three hours we were at the streamer-decked cairn on the lunkar-la, where the height was , feet. from a height to the north-east of the pass the tarok-tso lies below the spectator as on a map, and in the north from ° to ° e. is seen the white and yellow saline depression of tabie-tsaka, renowned throughout tibet. at goang-shung we got three new guides with four yaks, who took us to the bank of the gyenor- or goang-tsangpo--a small river which, coming from the mountain kapta in the south-east, falls into the poru-tso. to the west rises a chain of mighty snowy peaks. on the morning of june , after . degrees of frost, the stream was covered with a third of an inch of ice, and i missed the pleasant rippling sound of the evening. but the ice broke up in the sunshine and rattled down in large flakes. we were conducted still to the south-west; on the next day when we encamped on the lake shore the direction was nearer west. from camp ( , feet) we had a fine view over the small lake poru-tso, also called yeke-tso because it is situated in the district bongba-yeke, the westernmost in the large province of bongba, which is under the control of karma puntso. to the west of it follows rigi-hloma or rigi-changmo, which is subject to ngari-karpun, as the garpun of gartok is called here. puru-tso is drying up; the highest shore-line lies feet above the present level of the lake. the water is not fit for drinking, but, curiously enough, it still contains fish. an extremely disagreeable odour rises from the beach. the lake stretches from north-east to south-west. on june we rode westwards and crossed the broad valley watered by the nyapchu-tsangpo, which, descending from the men-la due south, falls into the poru-tso. the men-la, a day's journey off, is a pass in a longitudinal valley between two of the ranges of the trans-himalaya. over its threshold a road runs to shamsang on the upper tsangpo. a day was spent on the bank of the surle-tsangpo, which also flows to the poru-tso, and in the evening carried quite cubic feet of water per second. here i was waited on by gova pundar of rigi-hloma, an elderly man, who gave me a _kadakh_, butter, meal, and milk, and sold us all the provisions we required for several days, and his goodwill knew no bounds. the people in this part of tibet were always very friendly disposed. in the lob country the natives called me padishahim or "your majesty," a title that more than satisfied my ambition; but in bongba and rigi i was often called rinpoche or "your holiness," which i thought a little too strong. but they meant well, and i accepted their civilities as the most natural thing in the world. gova pundar knew every inch of his country, and i pumped him thoroughly. among other interesting details, he informed me that thirteen days' journey to the north, near the lakkor-tso, was a monastery marmik-gompa, a dependency of sera, with twenty-five monks and four nuns. in the year i had been at the lakkor-tso, and had heard the blast of the shell-horn at the other side of a ridge, but i did not enjoy the same freedom as now, and could not visit the monastery. we rode on the th in a snowstorm, with fresh men and yaks, through the picturesque surle valley, and on the th over stony moss-grown slopes to the pass sur-la or sur-la-kemi-la, , feet high, which, like the lunkar-la, is of the second order, for it is a divide between the poru-tso and the shovo-tso. before reaching the actual pass we had a striking view west-south-west over a world of firn-fields, peaks clothed with eternal snow, and glaciers, one of which, of large dimensions and bluish green in front, with numerous moraines and rivulets, descends to the surle river. here grey granite predominates; wild yaks are everywhere; the country is barren and of a high alpine character. on the other side of the sur-la the ground descends rapidly among quantities of medium-sized granite boulders. at camp we were, then, in the district rigi-changma. when we went on farther down the valley from the pass on june , we suddenly heard wild yells from a whole choir of four large and six small wolves, which were strolling along a slope immediately to the left of the path. they were greyish yellow, and seemed hungry and in a very vicious humour. takkar rushed heedlessly at them, but they faced him, and he thought it better to turn back. they showed no signs of fear, but held their ground even when we threw stones at them. at that moment two horsemen with weapons and red hats came down from the sur-la. they were pursuivants sent out in advance to selipuk to make preparations for the arrival of the _serpuns_, or gold commissioners. these gentlemen are sent annually from lhasa to tok-jalung, and their journey is burdensome to the nomads, for they exact pack animals and food without payment. they take the road north of the teri-nam-tso and tabie-tsaka, which is one of tibet's great arteries. it is called the ser-lam, or the "gold road." over a small saddle we came to the pedang-tsangpo's valley, ½ miles broad, which starts from the trans-himalayan pass pedang-la, and runs almost due north. camp was pitched on the river bank in a place quite devoid of life. our guides wished to turn back with their yaks, but were persuaded to accompany us to the nearest tent village. what could the tibetans be thinking of? they left us without the slightest supervision, and we enjoyed more freedom than ever before. we could now have travelled anywhere we liked, eastwards to tabie-tsaka or southwards over the trans-himalaya; but the lakes in the north had most attraction for me, and we should have to cross the lofty mountains in the south at some time. chapter lxxii the last days in unknown country on june we proceeded north-north-east down the pedang-tsangpo's gently declining valley, sometimes near, sometimes at a distance from, the fairly large river. on the right was the ridge of the sur-la with its snowy summits and small glacier tongues, and far in the north was seen a huge crest called ganglung-gangri, a prolongation of the sur-la. we found that this colossal range, like its eastern and western neighbours, runs from north-north-west to south-south-east, and that the orographical configuration is totally unlike the scheme set forth by hodgson, atkinson, saunders, and burrard, for these gentlemen, quite hypothetically, inserted a single chain parallel to the upper brahmaputra. in reality one wanders here in a labyrinth of mountain ranges, one and all only parts of the gigantic system of the trans-himalaya. the road was excellent, and after a long ride we set up our two tents on the bank of a glacier stream while snow squalls and showers of pelting rain came down alternately. here we had to stay a day, that the genial nomads of the neighbourhood might send for the district chief; for we had nothing to eat, but had to buy whatever we could get. he came, and we bought provisions for rupees, and gave him for his kindness. our treasury was almost empty, and i looked forward with trembling to the time when we should be obliged, like wandering jews, to sell watches, revolvers, and horses to gain a livelihood. for here, in rigi-changma, no one had heard of abdul kerim and his men. we could not tell what had happened. had he gone quite off his head? he had rupees with him; had he decamped, or had he been robbed? a letter was despatched to gova parvang saying that if he did not get news of them in a week he would have all the devashung and the mandarins about his ears. at any rate we had made a splendid journey through unknown country, and now we must make our way to the shovo-tso we had long heard spoken of. properly we ought to have gone over the pedang range on the west direct to selipuk, but it was not difficult to talk over the gova, and on june he had fresh yaks and guides ready. the latter were a young man and a boy ten years old in a blue sheepskin. with these we could have gone off anywhere, but i was tired and longed to get home. the valley of the pedang-tsangpo took us further to the north. it is unusual to find in tibet such a great longitudinal valley running north and south, for they lie almost always east and west, and produce the peculiar parallelism so characteristic of the country. we passed sixteen tents, and near the last we crossed the pedang-tsangpo, which runs to the shovo-tso by a more easterly course. lobsang caused great amusement when he was attacked by a furious dog, and, having no stones, threw his bright sheath-knife at him; he missed, but the dog took the knife in his teeth and ran off to his master's tent. then we rode up to the abuk-la pass, with a view both magnificent and instructive. the bluish-green shovo-tso is, like poru-tso, longest from north-east to south-west, and is surrounded by huge mountains, some of them with eternal snow. to the north, ° e., we see the pass ka-la, over which the "gold road" runs. the name ka-la occurs on a map of one of montgomerie's pundits by a single isolated mountain summit. in reality the ka-la is the very opposite of a mountain summit, namely, a depression or saddle in a mountain range. we encamped on the southern shore of the shovo-tso, which lies at an absolute height of , feet. the water is salt, and round the shore are seen old shore-lines of about the same height as at poru-tso. [illustration: . lama of chokchu taking leave of the prior of selipuk.] [illustration: . lama of chokchu on horseback.] june . when we left the western extremity of the shovo-tso we saw a large caravan of yaks and sheep which seemed to have the same destination as ourselves. lobsang found out that the people were _nekoras_ or pilgrims on the way to kang-rinpoche, and that the owner of the caravan was the governor of chokchu, sonam ngurbu (illust. ). we left them behind and rode up to the pass tela-mata-la. a horseman approached us at a gallop, and made signs to us to halt. we waited for him, all on the tiptoe of expectation, for we made sure that he brought us a message from abdul kerim. bah! it was only one of sonam ngurbu's soldiers who wanted to ask our guides if a spring on the way to selipuk had any water in it this year. sonam ngurbu's caravan had come from tabie-tsaka and had not heard a word of our men. it seemed as though the earth had swallowed them up. my orders had been that, whatever else they did, they should wait for us on the buptsang-tsangpo. doubtless they had been plundered by robbers; and we had only rupees left. i blessed the hour when i decided to keep myself all the maps, notes, sketches, and rock specimens when we parted at kamba tsenam's tent. we could obtain money by selling some valuables, and from selipuk i could send a courier to thakur jai chand in gartok. from tela-mata-la we have again a striking view over almost all the sur-la range and over the mountainous region of lavar-gangri to the south of selipuk. with every day's march the orographical configuration becomes clearer, and soon the leading features of the blank space will be nearly all ascertained. the temperature again sank at the midsummer season below freezing-point, the reading on june being . °. we rode through a small steep valley up to the tayep-parva-la ( , feet). the ground was so honeycombed with mouse-holes that the horses trod on two or three at once. little puppy caught a couple of field-mice by the neck, and we did not pity them. a marmot which had ventured too far from its hole almost fell into takkar's clutches, but just saved himself in time. at the pass we made the usual halt for observations, and i drew a panorama of the surroundings. between north and north-west the horizon is far distant and the country level; only to the north, ° w., appears a small snow-capped dome, but not another _gangri_. the view over nganglaring-tso, just below, is grand, all the mountains in shades of pink, and the water of a deep ultramarine. a large part of its eastern half is occupied by a large island, a mountain mass rising out of the water with a contour as irregular as that of the lake itself, all promontories, bays, and capes. to the north-west lie three small islands. no european had ever seen nganglaring-tso before, nor any pundit. but the pundit sent by montgomerie in to tok-jalung obtained some hazy information about the district "shellifuk" and the great lake "ghalaring-tso," which was afterwards inserted in maps of tibet. the form given by the pundit to the lake, namely, an egg-shape with the longer axis from north to south, does not at all correspond to the reality; for the lake stretches east and west, and its contour could not be more irregular than it is. the pundit places a small island in the northern half, and adds the legend "monastery on island." in reality nganglaring-tso has at least four islands, but not a single monastery. on midsummer day we encamped by the roaring surf ( , feet), and on the th we crossed the last hilly mountain spur which still separated us from the extensive plain of selipuk. from its height we again saw the great chain of sur-la, and to the south the trans-himalaya with sixty-three snowy peaks, regular as the teeth of a saw. on the th we rode over level country to the west-north-west. on the plain two mounted tibetans were pursuing a wild ass, which was wounded in the near foreleg and had four dogs at his heels. the dogs did not bite him, but tried to chase the animal in a certain direction. time after time the men were close on the game and dismounted; they did not shoot, but threw up dust with their hands to frighten the wild ass and drive him as near as possible to their tent, that they might not have to carry the meat far (illust. ). [illustration: , . boys sitting.] [illustration: . young lama.] [illustration: . old woman. sketches by the author.] camp was pitched on the bank of the river sumdang-tsangpo, which flows into the nganglaring-tso without joining the rivers lavar-tsangpo and aong-tsangpo, farther west, which unite and enter the lake's most western bounds. here lobsang caught a wolf cub, a small wild rogue, which much interested takkar. but takkar had a great respect for his hereditary enemy and ventured to bite only his tail. afterwards he became bolder, and when the little creature found himself in a desperate situation, he threw himself into the river to swim over to the other side. then takkar gave a yell, jumped in and caught the cub, thrust him down with his paws, seized him with his teeth and brought him to land, where he ate every bit of him. we followed the river upwards on june and encamped again on its bank opposite the monastery selipuk-gompa ( , feet), the abbot of which, a kanpo-lama, jamtse singe, was also chief of the district in secular affairs (illusts. , , , ). neither he nor any one else had heard anything of abdul kerim, but he was so good as to search in his holy books to find out where our men were, and he came to the conclusion that they were somewhere to the south, and that in twenty days we should either meet them or hear some reliable news of them. on june , at half-past nine in the evening, the country was shaken by an earthquake--the only one i ever experienced in tibet. however, it had no effect on the good relations between me and the monks and sonam ngurbu, the governor (illusts. , ), who was also a guest in the monastery, and had a high lama from chokchu (illust. ) in his party. the governor gave us as much _tsamba_, rice, and sugar as would at a pinch last us till we came to tokchen, and he received a watch in exchange. of money we had only a few rupees left. i had never been in such straits before. if i ever meet abdul kerim again, i thought, he shall get what he deserves and a little more. when we set up our tents on the last day of june on the rartse plain, south of selipuk, lobsang announced at dusk that four men and four mules were coming to the camp. they were abdul kerim, sedik, gaffar, and a tibetan. our caravan bashi came frightened and confused to my tent, and i thought it better that he should give an account of his stewardship before i passed sentence on him. he reported that they had come to the appointed rendezvous at the proper time, but there he had been hard pressed by six govas--gova parvang among them, who took the lead, and ordered them to leave the place at once and go on to the tarok-tso. as they had no passport from lhasa, they could expect no mercy, he said. so they betook themselves to the northern shore of the tarok-tso, where they waited fourteen days, as the grazing was good and no one interfered with them. they heard contradictory reports about us. at length a nomad died on the lake shore, and a monk from lunkar-gompa was summoned to his tent to read the prayers for the dead. they met this man, and he said that we had passed the monastery nine days previously. then they packed up all their belongings, intending to hurry after us next morning. but horse-stealers had come in the night and stolen my grey tikze horse and a mule from saka-dzong. this event cost them three days, but they never recovered the stolen animals. while suen, abdullah, abdul rasak, and sonam kunchuk followed slowly, the three others made forced marches westwards, and now at last they were here and had all our cash with them. abdul kerim escaped with a slight reprimand, but i afterwards heard the other men badgering him. we found the others in kyangrang, and so the whole strength of the company, thirteen men, was complete when, on july , we crossed the pass ding-la (illust. ), , feet high, the loftiest pass we had crossed in all this journey in tibet, and on past the small lake argok-tso, which lies in the basin of the aong-tsangpo; and on july we crossed the surnge-la ( , feet). two days later we came to tokchen, where another political entanglement detained us nine days. but i cannot stay to give an account of it, for i reached the limit of the space allowed me at chapter lxiv., and my publisher is impatient. chapter lxxiii the trans-himalaya on the map of the jesuits, now two hundred years old (d'anville, ) (map ), a series of mountains runs on the north side of the upper brahmaputra, bearing from east to west the following names: youc, larkin, tchimouran coïran, tchompa, lop, tchour, takra concla, kentaisse (kailas) latatsi, etc. these mountains and ranges have never been transferred to modern maps of tibet, probably because geographers regarded the material collected by trained tibetans as too unreliable and indefinite. yet these chains of mountains are nothing else but the trans-himalaya, though the representation is confused and inexact. when brian hodgson in his map of southern tibet (_selections from the records of the government of bengal_, no. xxvii.), here reproduced in facsimile (map ), drew a huge unbroken chain north of, and parallel to, the tsangpo, he took a step which could only be based on the jesuits' map and the data he received in the year from the maharaja of nepal. no doubt lofty mountains existed to the north of the tsangpo--that was known to the jesuits even in the time of kang hi. but hodgson's hypothetical nyenchhen-thangla (trans-himalaya), which he looks upon as a prolongation of the karakorum, and the natural boundary between northern and southern tibet, is by no means an original conception, and is no advance on previous knowledge, or, more correctly, theory. for already, in the year , dufour had inserted a similar huge uninterrupted chain north of, and parallel to, the tsangpo, on the map which illustrates the famous description of the travels of the lazarist missionary, father huc (illust. )--_souvenirs d'un voyage dans la tartarie, le thibet et la chine, - _. dufour's map is even better than hodgson's, for he has adopted from the jesuits' map a northern affluent to the tsangpo, passing through the great range, which, like the jesuits, he calls mts. koïran. huc and gabet were probably the first europeans to cross the trans-himalaya, and one wonders where they made the passage. probably by the shang-shung-la along the mongolian pilgrim road from kuku-nor and tsaidam to lhasa. it is vain to seek any information on the subject in huc's famous book. during the two years huc stayed in macao he worked up the scanty notes he had made on his journey. he mentions burkhan bota, shuga, and tang-la, and also the large village nakchu, where the caravans exchange their camels for yaks, but he says not a word about the pass by which he crossed one of the mightiest mountain systems of the world. he says, indeed, that he went over a colossal mountain range, and as its position agreed with that of the mts. koïran of dufour and the jesuits, he adopts this name, which he certainly had never heard on his journey, and which probably was changed on its way from tibet to the jesuits' note-books in pekin. all he has to say of his journey over the trans-himalaya is contained in the following sentences: "la route qui conduit de na-ptchu à lha-ssa est, en général, rocailleuse et très-fatigante. quand on arrive à la chaîne des monts koïran, elle est d'une difficulté extrême" (ii. p. ). another attempt to represent the course of the trans-himalaya was made by trelawney saunders in his map of tibet (map ), which is found in markham's _narratives of the mission of george bogle to tibet, and of the journey of thomas manning to lhasa_ (london, ), and in edwin t. atkinson's _the himalayan districts of the north-western provinces of india_ (allahabad, ). like dufour and hodgson, saunders draws a huge continuous chain all through tibet. for the western parts, north of manasarowar, and for the eastern, south of tengri-nor, he has relied on the cartography of the pundits; the rest, between ° and ½° e. long., is partly a reproduction of the jesuits' map, partly pure fancy, and has not the remotest resemblance to the reality, as will be apparent from a comparison of saunders' map with mine. i will only point out that the trans-himalaya consists not of one chain but of many, and that the source of the chaktak-tsangpo lies to the south, not to the north of the principal one. all the central and largest part of the system, which i explored, is therefore quite incorrect on saunders' map. in the year colonel montgomerie (illust. ) sent out three pundits for the purpose of compiling a map of the country north of manasarowar. one of them was the incomparable and wonderful nain sing, another was the man who was at yiachan prevented from discovering the source of the indus. on their way to tok-jalung they crossed the trans-himalaya at the jukti-la, which they called gugti-la, assigning to it a height of , feet: i found its height was , feet. mr. calvert crossed the same pass a year before me. on their return they crossed the trans-himalaya by following the eastern branch of the indus down to where it breaks through the range and unites with the gartok branch. a pundit also went between manasarowar and tok-jalung, past the ruldap-tso--a name and lake i sought for east and west in vain, but i will not therefore deny its existence. moreover, of this pundit's route i have no precise details. it seems likely that he crossed the trans-himalaya by a pass called sar-lung. on january , , one of montgomerie's explorers, a young trained tibetan, travelled over the trans-himalaya by the khalamba-la, , feet high. in markham's account of this journey it is said that he returned across the mountains by the dhok-la, though the actual water-parting pass he came to was much more probably the dam-largen-la. this pass was crossed the following year ( ) by nain sing on his famous journey from leh to lhasa, which is described so conscientiously by colonel sir henry trotter. nain sing assigns to dam-langren-la a height of , feet. the great pundit a. k., or krishna, who contends with nain sing for the foremost place, crossed the most easterly parts of the trans-himalaya on his journey in , and more probably by the pass shiar-gang-la than the nub-kong-la, as i have already suggested; but from his map it is difficult to decide whether the shiar-gang-la is a dividing pass of the first rank or not. in any case, it is situated on the chain which forms the watershed between the salwin and the brahmaputra, and is undoubtedly an immediate continuation of the nien-chen-tang-la, or trans-himalaya. a similar assumption is also made by colonel s. g. burrard in his and hayden's admirable work, _a sketch of the geography and geology of the himalaya mountains and tibet_ (calcutta, ). on map xvii. in this work burrard has, quite rightly in my opinion, inserted the prolongation of the range, though we have no sure data about its course. [illustration: . colonel t. g. montgomerie.] [illustration: . abbÉ huc. for the portrait of t. g. montgomerie my thanks are due to the colonel's widow, and for that of père huc, probably not published before, to mr. e. schwartz, paris.] thus we find that after father huc several of montgomerie's and trotter's pundits, as well as mr. calvert in the year , crossed the trans-himalaya in tibet. so far as i know, there are only two more names to be added to these--namely, littledale, who on his bold journey in - passed over the system by the pass guring-la ( , feet), and count de lesdain, who crossed it by the khalamba-la in . both describe the magnificent spectacle nien-chen-tang-la presents from tengri-nor, but the latter added nothing to our knowledge of the trans-himalaya, for he made use of the same pass, the khalamba-la, as montgomerie's pundit. in his narrative, _voyage au thibet, par la mongolie de pékin aux indes_, he mentions not a single pass, much less its name. but he followed the western shore of tengri-nor, and he says (p. ): "des massifs de montagnes très durs et absolument enchevêtrés formaient un obstacle insurmontable. en conséquence, je résolus de suivre le premier cours d'eau, dont la direction ferait présumer qu'il se dirigeait vers le brahmapoutra. c'est ainsi que nous cheminâmes plusieurs jours en suivant les bords d'une rivière sans cesse grossissante, appelée chang-chu...." this river is the shang-chu, which comes from the khalamba-la. two frenchmen and two englishmen have, then, crossed the trans-himalaya before me, besides half a dozen pundits. farther west in english territory innumerable europeans have passed over the system, especially by the chang-la, where i surmounted it three times. between the indus and the panggong-tso i travelled over the system on november , , by the easy pass tsake-la. an extraordinarily valuable contribution to the knowledge of the trans-himalaya was afforded us by ryder and wood on their remarkable journey up the brahmaputra in the year . they had no opportunity of crossing the system, or even of penetrating a day's journey into the southern transverse valleys, but they took bearings of all the summits visible from their route. and some of these, particularly lunpo-gangri, are among the very highest which, under a mantle of eternal snow, rise up from the trans-himalaya. the absolutely highest is, according to ryder, , feet, and is therefore little inferior to nien-chen-tang-la with its , feet. ryder and burrard took it for granted that these summits stood on a single continuous range, which they represent on their map as the northern watershed of the brahmaputra. in his text (p. ), however, burrard rightly points out that this chain, which he calls "the kailas range," is not the watershed, for in some places it is broken through by affluents from the north. burrard commits the same mistake as dufour, hodgson, saunders, and atkinson, in assuming the existence of a single continuous range to the north of the tsangpo. i pondered much myself over this problem, and on a general map of the ranges of tibet ( ) i inserted two ranges north of the tsangpo, a conception in accordance with f. grenard's in his _carte de l'asie centrale_ of the year . a history of geographical exploration in a region so little known as the trans-himalaya must naturally be exceeding short and meagre. with all my researches i have not been able to discover any other predecessors than those already mentioned--that is, in those parts of the system which lie within the bounds of tibet--and not a single one in the central regions of the trans-himalaya. that such an extensive region as southern tibet has been quite unknown till now, though it lies close to the indian frontier, has given rise to much reasonable astonishment, and in many circles arguments and proofs, based on more or less apocryphal records and vague hypotheses, have been laboriously sought out to prove that my discoveries have not the priority claimed for them. the maps i have reproduced in facsimile, when carefully compared with my own maps, render any discussion on my part quite superfluous. [illustration: . altar table with images of gods in mangnang-gompa. water-colour sketch by the author.] i cannot, however, pass over in silence an insinuation that the discoveries i have made are to be found indicated on the famous wall-maps in the doge's palace at venice. the chief librarian of the royal library in stockholm, dr. e. w. dahlgren, writes in a letter to me: "only the grossest ignorance and silliness can find on these maps traces of any discoveries previous to yours." before my return home professor mittag-leffler, director of the mathematical school in the university of stockholm, had sent for photographs of these maps with a very detailed description, and he has kindly placed this material at my disposal. this book is not the place in which to publish it, and, besides, the following statement which dr. dahlgren has obligingly drawn up at my request makes all further comment unnecessary: the wall-maps in the sala dello scudo, in the doge's palace at venice these maps, four in number, were constructed by the noted cartographer giacomo gastaldi in the middle of the sixteenth century, to take the place of older maps which were destroyed by fire in the year ; at least, it may be safely assumed that two of them, those of east asia and africa, are the work of gastaldi. the maps represent: . asia from the mouth of the indus eastwards to china and japan, as well as the pacific ocean and part of america. . asia from asia minor to india (kashmir). . africa. . italy. only maps nos. and have any interest for sven hedin. they correspond completely with the photographs procured by professor mittag-leffler. all the maps were restored by francisco grisellini about the middle of the eighteenth century. in map no. great alterations seem to have been made in geographical details as well as in the text and in the decoration. as the map extends no farther east than kashmir it has, of course, no connection with sven hedin's discoveries. map no. , on the other hand, has in many essential respects preserved its original character. we can undoubtedly form a good notion of its original appearance by comparing it with the maps in ramusio's work _delle navigazioni e viaggi_ ( nd edition, venice, ) and with gastaldi's _tercia parte dell' asia_ (venice, ). the resemblance to the former is very striking. in these maps, as in the wall-maps, the south is to the top. on all these maps there is very great confusion in the representation of the river systems of the ganges and the brahmaputra. the mountains are drawn in at random, and even the himalayas cannot be identified with complete certainty, much less the ranges of central asia. as the map was chiefly designed to illustrate the travels of marco polo, it naturally gives no information about countries he did not visit. e. w. dahlgren. father huc concludes the account of his journey with the following remarkable words: "mais il ne suffit pas toujours du zèle de l'écrivain pour faire connaître des contrées où il n'a jamais mis le pied. Écrire un voyage en chine après quelques promenades aux factories de canton et aux environs de macao, c'est peut-être s'exposer beaucoup à parler de chose qu'on ne connaît pas suffisamment ... il est en général assez difficile de faire des découvertes dans un pays sans y avoir pénétré." it was with such truths in my mind that i began the journey described in this book, the object of which was that set forth by sir clements markham, when in connection with littledale's last journey he made the following statement (_geographical journal_, vol. vii. p. ): "in the whole length from tengri-nor to the mariam-la pass no one has crossed them (the trans-himalaya), so far as we know ... and i believe nothing in asia is of greater geographical importance than the exploration of this range of mountains." it is not for me to decide how far i have achieved my aim, but when i passed over the trans-himalaya for the eighth time at the surnge-la, i had at least the satisfaction of seeing all the old hypotheses fall down like a house of cards, and a new ground-plan laid down on the map of asia, where before the blank patch yawned with its alluring "unexplored." [illustration: . the author in tibetan costume at the mission station in poo. photograph by the rev. mr. marx.] i have no space here for a complete monograph of the trans-himalaya, or, indeed, the material for it, until the bearings and heights of the peaks have been worked out, the rock specimens identified, and a detailed map constructed from the sheets i drew. it will take a couple of years to work up the material. i will here only communicate some general facts, and will begin by citing the passes of first rank as watersheds, appending the names of the travellers who have crossed some of them: shiar-gang-la krishna, shang-shung-la huc, dam-largen-la nain sing, , feet. guring-la littledale, , " tsebo-la shugu-la khalamba-la pundit, , " do. de lesdain, sela-la hedin, , " chang-la-pod-la hedin, , " sha-la angden-la hedin, , " tsalam-nakta-la dombe-la nakbo-kongdo-la sangmo-bertik-la hedin, , " saggo-la dicha-la samye-la hedin, , " dsalung-la lungmar-la pechen-la lungnak-la yor-la ganglung-la men-la pedang-la gebbyi-la yilung-la tarkyang-la surnge-la pundit? hedin, , feet tseti-lachen-la hedin, , " jukti-la nain sing, do. calvert, do. hedin, , " it has, then, been my lot to cross eight trans-himalayan passes, while seven have been crossed by other travellers. seven of my passes were unknown before. of the others i have seen the dicha-la and men-la, while of the remainder i have only gathered oral information. the jukti-la is the watershed between the two headwaters of the indus, the tseti-lachen-la between the sutlej and the indus, the surnge-la between the sutlej and the nganglaring-tso. shiar-gang-la and shang-shung-la lie on the watershed between the salwin and the brahmaputra. all the others lie on the great continental watershed between the ocean and the isolated drainage of the plateau. it appears from the list that all the passes crossed before by europeans and pundits belong to the eastern and western parts of the system. between the khalamba-la and the surnge-la the trans-himalaya had not been crossed in a single line, and it was exactly between these two passes that the great white space was situated. all that was known of it was the peaks fixed by ryder and wood, and some summits seen by nain sing from the north. if the pundit's journey between manasarowar and ruldap-tso be disregarded, of which i have no information, the interval between the khalamba-la and the jukti-la measures miles, or about as far as from linköping to haparanda, or from london to dornoch firth. and between these limits lie all the passes by crossing which i was able to trace the course of the trans-himalaya, and prove that its known eastern and western sections are connected and belong to the same mountain system, and that this system is one of the loftiest and mightiest in the world, only to be compared with the himalayas, the karakorum, arka-tag, and kuen-lun. between the shiar-gang-la and yasin, not far from the sharp bend of the indus, its length amounts to miles, but if it can be shown that the trans-himalaya merges into the hindu-kush and continues along the salwin, its length extends to miles. on the north and south its boundaries are sharp and clearly defined; the northern is formed by the central lakes discovered by nain sing and myself, and the southern by the unheard-of indus-tsangpo valley. in breadth it is inferior to the himalayas, and its peaks are lower, but the heights of the trans-himalayan passes are considerably greater than those of the himalayas. the average height of the five following himalayan passes--shar-khalep-la, man-da-la, she-ru-la, no-la and kore- or photu-la--is , feet, while the average height of my first five trans-himalayan passes is , feet. it may be said generally that the dividing passes in the trans-himalaya of the first rank are feet higher than in the himalayas. but the highest peak of the himalayas, mount everest, with its , , is feet higher than the nien-chen-tang-la, the culminating point, as far as we know. herewith are connected the different forms of relief predominating in the two systems; the crests of the trans-himalaya are flatter, its valleys shallower and broader, while the crests of the himalayas are sharp and pointed, its valleys deep and much eroded. the former system is more compact and massive than the latter, as we may expect if we remember that the himalayas are deluged by the precipitation of the south-west monsoon, and that its waters have for untold thousands of years degraded its valleys, while the trans-himalaya on the dry plateau country receives a comparatively insignificant share of the monsoon rain. were it possible to compare the volumes of the two systems, we should no doubt find that the northern is much more massive than the southern, for such a comparison must proceed from sea-level, and though the trans-himalaya is the narrower of the two, its ascent begins from heights of , to , feet, from the tsangpo valley, while the himalayas rise from sea-level or a few hundred feet above it. as a watershed the trans-himalaya occupies a higher and more important place than the himalayas. in the west the himalayas parts the waters between the indus and some of its tributaries, and in the east the system is a divide between the brahmaputra and the ganges. but every drop of water which falls on the himalayas goes down to the indian ocean. on the other hand, all the central trans-himalaya is a watershed between the indian ocean on the south and the enclosed drainage area of the plateau depression on the north. only in its western section is the trans-himalaya also a watershed between the indus and some of its right-hand tributaries, and in its eastern between the salwin and brahmaputra. within the boundaries of tibet there is only one river which takes its rise from the northern flank of the trans-himalaya and breaks through the system by a transverse valley; but this river is a lion, and is called by the tibetans the lion river, the singi-kamba or indus. the salwin also springs from the northern flank of the system, but finds its way to the ocean without passing through the mountains. all the other rivers rising on the northern slopes, of which the buptsang-tsangpo and the soma-tsangpo are the largest, flow into the undrained salt lakes on the north. only in the central parts of the trans-himalaya, stretching, however, over a distance of nearly miles, does the continental watershed coincide with the main axis of the system, for to the west the watershed runs northwards from the source of the indus, and then westwards, so as to leave the panggong-tso within the isolated drainage basin of tibet, and in the east runs northwards from the region between the source streams of the salwin and tengri-nor. i have called this book trans-himalaya, because the incidents and adventures described in these two volumes occurred in this huge mountain system lying to the north of the tsangpo and in the country to the north and south of it. when i first crossed the dividing range at the sela-la i thought of retaining the name hodgson had assigned to it, that is, nien-chen-tang-la, and i did not change my mind after crossing the chang-la-pod-la and angden-la, for these three passes lie on one and the same range, which on the southern shore of tengri-nor is called nien-chen-tang-la. after crossing the tseti-lachen-la and the jukti-la i supposed that these passes lay on the western prolongation of the nien-chen-tang-la, and that the conception of hodgson, saunders, atkinson, burrard, and ryder was correct. but after the second journey right through tibet, and after i had crossed bongba in several directions and found that there was no question of a single continuous range, but that a whole collection of ranges quite independent of one another existed, i perceived that the name nien-chen-tang-la, which only denotes one of all these ranges, could not be given to the whole system. equally inappropriate would be the names lunpo-gangri, kamchung-gangri, targo-gangri, or any other local name. saunders' "gangri mountains" i consider still more unsuitable, for every mountain in tibet clothed with eternal snow is called a _gangri_, and the name in this connection would have a meaningless sound. neither could i accept burrard's "the kailas range." a name must be found suited to the whole of this intimately connected association of mountain ranges, a geographical conception which would leave no room for misunderstanding, and i decided to call the whole system, the connection and continuity of which i had succeeded in proving, the trans-himalaya. among english geographers many have approved of this name and an equal number have disapproved. to the latter category belongs colonel burrard, who points out that for some years back all the regions lying beyond the himalayas have been called trans-himalayan. and in a letter he has lately written to me he says: pupils of montgomerie naturally ask why an old word should be given a new meaning when it is possible to invent any number of new names for newly discovered mountains. i do not see that it is necessary to give an important name to newly discovered mountains. a new name will become important because of the mountains to which it is attached, and your mountains would have rendered any new name important. [illustration: . the last members of the last expedition in poo.] i cannot share colonel burrard's view, for i answer that just because of the circumstance that montgomerie's pupils, officials of the survey of india and pundits, have for fifty years and more called the country north of the himalayas "the trans-himalayan regions," it was incumbent on me not to reject this name for the mountain system which can be nothing else but the trans-himalaya _par excellence_. to give a quotation from the other side, i will here reproduce an expression of opinion from lord curzon, formerly viceroy of india, whose knowledge of asia is unsurpassed. in the _geographical journal_, april , he says: alongside of this great discovery (bongba and chokchu) i would place the tracing for hundreds of miles and the assurance of a definite orographical existence to the mighty mountain palisade or series of palisades to which he has, in my opinion very appropriately, given the title of the trans-himalaya. this range has been surmised to exist in its entire length for many years; it has been crossed at its extremities by littledale and by native surveyors. but it was reserved for dr. hedin to trace it on the spot and to place it upon the map in its long, unbroken, and massive significance.... it is no mean addition to human knowledge that we should realize the assured existence of one of the greatest mountain masses in the world. as regards the name which dr. hedin has given to it, i will only say that the desiderata for the title of a new and momentous geographical discovery appear to be these: ( ) that the name should if possible be given by the principal discoverer; ( ) that it should not be unpronounceable, unwriteable, over-recondite, or obscure; ( ) that it should if possible possess some descriptive value; and ( ) should not violate any acknowledged canons of geographical nomenclature. the name trans-himalaya combines all these advantages, and it has a direct central asian analogy in the trans-alai, which is a range of mountains standing in the same relation to the alai that trans-himalaya will do to himalaya. i am not in the least impressed by the fact that the name was once given to another range, where its unsuitability secured its early extinction. any attempts to substitute another title on the present occasion will, in my opinion, be foredoomed to failure. my long journey backwards and forwards over the trans-himalaya cannot be regarded as more than a cursory and defective reconnaissance of a country hitherto unknown. it is easier to go to lhasa with a force armed to the teeth, and shoot down the tibetans like pheasants if they stand in the way, than to cross tibet in all directions for two long years with four governments and all the authorities of the land as opponents, twelve poor ladakis as companions, and not a single man as escort. it is no merit of mine that i was long able to maintain a position which from the first seemed untenable. the same lucky star looked down, as often before, on my lonely course through vast asia, and it is twenty-four years since i first took up my pilgrim staff. i have been able to follow and lay down only the chief geographical lines; between my routes many blank spaces are still left, and there is sufficient detailed work for generations of explorers and travellers more thoroughly prepared and better equipped than myself. go, then, out into the world, thou ringing and sonorous name for one of the world's mightiest mountain systems, and find thy way into geographical text-books, and remind children in the schools of the snow-crowned summits on the roof of the world, among which the monsoon storms have sung their deafening chorus since the beginning. as long as i live, my proudest memories, like royal eagles, will soar round the cold desolate crags of the trans-himalaya. chapter lxxiv simla like a troop of beggars and knights of the road my twelve servants and i left tokchen on july . we had stayed there nine days with nothing to do but watch the monsoon rain, which i had incautiously promised the natives, pelting down on the hills. the authorities of the place insisted this time that, as we were not furnished with a passport from lhasa, we had no right to make use of the great high-road to ladak, but must turn back to the interior of tibet whence we had come. if i had not already had enough of the great blank, i would have agreed to their demand with pleasure, but i was now weary and longed for home, and as they refused the assistance and the transport facilities we required, we set out on foot with the baggage on our last ten horses and mules. i had still the white horse from kamba tsenam's tent at my disposal. we had no escort, for the authorities wished to be quite clear of blame in case they were called to account. by the holy lake, where we followed the northern shore by known ways, we at length found a tramp who offered to show us the way to the totling monastery. in langbo-nan i visited hastily the young abbot, as sympathetic and good-natured as the year before, and at chiu-gompa we met our old friend tundup lama, fretful, melancholy, and weary of his lonely cloister life. large streams now emptied their water into both lakes, and with a feeling of regret i left again the scene of so many precious memories. before we came to the monastery of tirtapuri we had to cross several of the rivers which bring their tribute from the trans-himalaya to the sutlej. three of them were enormously swollen after the continuous rains, and rolled their volumes of greyish-brown foaming water over treacherous blocks. it boiled and seethed between the cliffs, and it carried along and overturned the slippery boulders. how i trembled in mortal anxiety lest the harvest so laboriously gathered in the last long winter should all be lost by a single false step. we came to the temple of tirtapuri in pouring rain. lobsang, gulam, kutus, tubges, suen, and kunchuk were to accompany me hence to simla, but abdul kerim and the other five received their pay and gratuities, and took their way home to leh through gartok. i did not know the road to simla, but on the map it seemed to be nearer than to ladak, and therefore i expected that my party would arrive first at its destination. but this road is very wild and romantic, and the land is deeply excavated by the affluents of the sutlej, and one might imagine that one had suddenly been transported to the cañons of the colorado. one day we marched rapidly up an ascent of feet, and the next we went down as far, so that the distance was at least double as great as it appeared on the map, and abdul kerim reached leh long before i was near simla. therefore the first news of us came from him, and not from myself, and in some quarters the worst fears were entertained for my safety. it seemed strange that my servants reached their home safe and sound while i myself was still missing. [illustration: . my puppy.] [illustration: . takkar in his new home with the missionaries in poo.] we parted with floods of tears on august , and my party travelled past the three monasteries, dongbo, dava, and mangnang (illust. ), and came to totling-gompa on the th, near which father andrade, three hundred years ago, lodged in the now decayed town of tsaparang. here i met the hindu doctor mohanlal, who gave me the first news of the outer world. through him i heard, with deep regret, of the death of king oscar, which had occurred more than eight months before. mohanlal also informed me of the growing unrest in india and of the anxiety my friends felt on my account. thakur jai chand had been instructed by the indian government to spare no efforts to find out whether i was still living or not. he had sent out some tibetan freebooters in various directions, and promised rupees to any one who could furnish any certain information of my fate--this is the price he valued me at. abdul kerim had reached gartok in the best of health, and was summoned to the garpun, who exclaimed: "your sahib is a dreadful man; he will not be satisfied until i lose my head!" old hajji nazer shah, who had so conscientiously equipped my last caravan, had died the preceding winter. when we left tokchen on july we were delighted at the thought that we should at every step be nearer to lower country and a denser and warmer atmosphere. a month later we were at a greater height than at tokchen, and saw the country covered with snow, and heard the hail patter on our dilapidated tents. but at shipki we again set them up in a garden dressed in the rich beauty of summer, and heard the wind murmur in the spreading crowns of the apricot trees. shipki is the last village in tibet. from this garden oasis begins the steep ascent to the shipki-la, which is reached after attaining a height of six eiffel towers one upon another. here we stood on the frontier between tibet and india. i turned and let my eyes roam once more over these awfully desolate and barren mountains where my dreams had been realized, and my lucky star had shed a clearer and more friendly light than ever before. farewell, home of wild asses and antelopes, holy land of the tashi lama, of tso-mavang and the tsangpo, into whose mysterious valleys the stranger has found his way only by enduring two arctic winters and by driving a flock of refractory sheep! i seemed to take farewell of the best of my youth and the finest chapter in the story of my life. on august we encamped in the village of poo (illusts. , ), and i spent two memorable days in the hospitable house of the moravian missionaries. messrs. marx and schnabel and their amiable families overwhelmed me with kindness, and now i was deluged with news from the outer world--it was like listening to the breakers on the coast of the ocean. i had not seen a european for more than two years, and i looked myself like a tibetan footpad. but the missionaries rigged me out at once in european summer clothes and set an indian helmet on my head. a few days later we came to kanam-gompa, where alexander csoma körösi eighty years ago studied lamaist learning as a monk, and more than any one else communicated to the scholars of the west the occult mysteries of this religion. how silent and quiet our life had been up on the expanse of chang-tang! now the dizzy depths of the valley are filled with the roar of the falling stream, and the thunder of the water is re-echoed from the precipitous cliffs. how bare and scanty was the soil of tibet, and now we listen daily to the whisper of mild breezes in the deep dark coniferous forests that clothe the slopes of the himalayas. still lower runs the road, still warmer is the air. my trusty friend, big shaggy takkar, looks at me with questioning eyes. he loves not the summer's perfumed garlands nor the variegated zone of meadows. he remembers the free life on the open plains, he misses the fights with the wolves of the wilderness, and he dreams of the land of everlasting snowstorms. one day we saw him drink of a spring which poured its water across the path, and then lie down in the cool shade of the forest. he had done so many times before, but we should never see him repeat it. he turned and galloped up towards lonely tibet. he parted with sorrow in his heart from his old master, i knew; but he thought he would ask the missionaries in poo to send me a greeting. one morning he was found lying outside the gate to the court of the mission-house, and, true to his old habit, he would let no one go in or out. he was hospitably received, and started a new life with a chain round his neck. i still receive from time to time, through mr. marx, greetings from old takkar, who so faithfully defended my tent when i travelled in disguise through his own country (illust. ). [illustration: . simla.] in the club des asiatiques in paris i once dined with madame massieu, who has accomplished so many wonderful journeys in asia. roland bonaparte and henry of orléans were present, as i vividly remembered when on september i met the far-travelled parisian lady in the station-house of taranda. we had much to talk about when we contributed to the cost of a common dinner. untouched by years, youthful and enthusiastic, madame massieu afterwards undertook a bold journey to khatmandu. with growing uneasiness i approached the hour when, after nearly a year's complete silence, i was again to receive letters from home, and i wondered whether i should break them open and read them without any cause for sorrow. the post met me at gaura on september . i read all the evening, all night, and all the following day, and i was able to take the last days' journey to simla in comfort, for i was spared any untoward news and knew that all was well at home. now the wind whispered more gently than ever in the himalayan cedars, and the roar of the sutlej sounded like the roll of drums in a triumphal march. in kotgar i was present at evensong in the missionaries' church. how strange to hear again the soft soothing tones of the organ, and as an unworthy christian pilgrim in a christian temple remember the solitude of the past years. the following day i marched along the road in the company of my men for the last time, for near narkanda a rickshaw met me, sent by colonel dunlop smith. i left them, to hurry on without delay, while they were to follow in the usual order of march. how pleasant to lean against the back of the little two-wheeled vehicle and roll away at a rapid pace under the shady canopy of the deodars! september was a great day for me. i stayed at the bungalow of fagu, and this camp, where i was quite alone, was no. . simla, therefore, would be . it felt very strange to stand on the boundary between the wilderness and the most refined civilization. at the breastwork of the excellent carriage-road sat a gentleman in his rickshaw; it was my friend mr. edward buck, reuter's correspondent. this is the beginning, i thought; and on i went on this last day's journey. the fine imposing town appears in the distance on the slopes of its hills and the white houses peep out from among the trees (illust. ). a young maiden takes a snap of us with her camera, but it is early in the morning, and without further adventures we take refuge at a gentleman's outfitters, for in spite of the clothes from poo i must undergo a complete renovation before i can present myself before the doors of the viceregal lodge. what a total contrast to the lonely life i had led for two long years! on september a state ball took place, and i heard again the crunching sound on the sand of the court as innumerable rickshaws bore guests to the ball. rustling silk, glittering jewels, brilliant uniforms--in an unbroken line the _élite_ of simla pass between satellites with their tall turbans and shining lances. god save the king! followed by their staff their excellencies enter, and open the dance to the notes of a waltz of strauss. it was just as in may , and the twenty-eight months that had intervened seemed to me like a strange fantastic dream. the first days i stayed in the house of my noble old friend colonel dunlop smith, and had now an opportunity of thanking him and his amiable ladies for the trouble they had taken in connection with the consignment to gartok the year before. then i moved over to the viceregal lodge, and again enjoyed the same boundless hospitality of lord and lady minto. from my window i saw again, sharp and clear, the crests of the himalayas, and beyond the mountains and valleys of tibet stretched out in a boundless sea. what wealth and luxury! i lived like a prince, walked on soft rugs and meditated, lay and read swedish journals in a deep soft bed, by electric light, and bathed in a porcelain bath, attended by hindus in the viceregal livery--i who had lately gone in rags and tended sheep. [illustration: . the last members of the expedition at the entrance of the viceregal lodge in simla.] on september a hundred and fifty ladies and gentlemen in full dress were assembled in the state room in the viceregal lodge. the occasion was a lecture, and on the dais hung with gold-embroidered brocade, where the thrones usually stand, was set up a large map of tibet. the front seats were occupied by the commander-in-chief of the indian army, lord kitchener of khartum, the governor of the panjab, the maharajas of alwar and gwalior; and among the guests might be seen generals and superior officers, state secretaries, men of science, and members of the diplomatic corps then present in simla. the military secretary, colonel victor brooke, came forward and announced the arrival of the viceroy and lady minto. i was trembling with stage fright, but before i knew anything about it, my opening words, "your excellencies, ladies and gentlemen," sounded through the brilliant saloon, and then followed an account of my last journey. it was one o'clock in the morning before i concluded, and after a most flattering speech from lord minto the guests withdrew to the late supper. my six ladakis and our seven remaining animals stayed in a _serai_ below the palace. i often went and talked to them, and played a while with my old travelling companion little puppy. but the time passed quickly, and soon the last day came. i embraced and squeezed little puppy, stroked his head, and found it hard to tear myself away. he was put out by his master's elegant costume, and had a melancholy questioning expression, as though he suspected that the bond between us was loosed, and that we should never see each other again. we had shared everything in common from the time he was born below the snowy karakorum pass, and to part from dogs is the hardest trial of all; to bid men farewell is not so distressing. at our arrival in simla i had given them rupees each for new clothing, and in the bazaar they had found some old cast-off uniforms with bright metal buttons, which they thought grand and becoming. on the neck lappets were the words "guard, london s.w. railway," and how they found their way to india i do not know. but in these uniforms and in red fezzes my men assembled in the palace court on the last day of september (illust. ). they were allowed to keep our seven horses and mules, saddles, tents, skin coats, bed furniture, and everything. my white horse they were to sell in leh and divide the price. gulam took charge of little puppy, and undertook to see that he did not suffer want in the future--it was like breaking up an old home. besides his pay, every man received a present of rupees, and their expenses to leh four times over. lord and lady minto were present at the last farewell, and the viceroy made them a short, cheery speech. it was a sad parting, and even the calm lobsang, who was amazed at the wealth and splendour of simla, wept like a child as with heavy step he followed his comrades down to their waiting animals. "what faithfulness! what devotion!" exclaimed lady minto with feeling; "their tears are more expressive than words." at the beginning of october the viceroy and lady minto set out on an excursion into the mountains, and after a hearty farewell and warm thanks for all the kindness they had showered on me, i remained lonely and forlorn in the great palace. my steamer would not leave bombay for a week, and i was delighted to be the guest of lord kitchener in his residence, snowdon, during the five days i was yet to stay in simla. i shall never forget these days. my room was decorated with flowers, and on a table stood fourteen books on tibet, chosen from the general's library to supply me with entertaining reading. with the aides-de-camp captains wyllie and basset, merry fellows and good comrades, we lived like four bachelors, took breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, and spent the evening in the billiard-room, on the mantelpiece of which was the appropriate motto, "strike, and fear not." in the afternoon the general took me out along the road leading to tibet. we then talked of the future of europe in asia and africa, and i gained a greater insight than i had ever done before into lord kitchener's life and work in egypt. but the days at snowdon also came to an end, and on october , when the people were flocking to church, i was driven by the victor of africa to the station, where i took a last farewell of the man for whose exploits i have always felt a boundless admiration. at summerhill station, below the viceregal lodge, i exchanged a last shake of the hand with my dear friend dunlop smith, and then the white houses of simla vanished in the distance, and the train rolled down to the heat of india and the great lonely sea. [illustration: the sources of the brahmaputra, sutlej, and indus by dr. sven hedin.] [illustration: a map of trans-himalaya by dr. sven hedin] [illustration: a map of tibet showing dr. sven hedin's routes - .] index abbot, a twelve-year-old, ii. abdul kerim, my caravan leader, ii. ; error of, as to forage, ; assumes rôle of master of caravan, , ; ideas as to the time of day, ; despatched in charge of second division of caravan to the tarok-tso, ; anxiety as to whereabouts of, ; arrives at our camp at ratse, ; bid farewell to, with other five of my followers, absi, peak of the kubi-gangri, ii. abuk-la pass, ii. adam, colonel, military secretary to the viceroy, i. age, average, of caravan, i. "aid," mohammedan festival celebrated in camp, i. aksai-chin, lake, unannexed region of, i. , , ; ii. alchi, dangerous bridge at, i. alexander the great, i. ; ii. amban lien yü, of lhasa, i. , amchen-la pass, ii. amchi-lama (monk-doctor), tent-temple of, ii. amchok-tang, plain, ii. amchok-tso, lake, ii. ; camp at, ; shallowness of, ; soundings on, amchok-yung, village of, ii. amchung country, interesting information acquired in, ii. amitabha, the tashi lama the incarnation of, i. amusements, tibetan, i. anchar, lake, i. angden-la pass, cairn with prayer-streamers on, ii. ; panoramic view from, ; not situated on same range as the samye-la, angsi-chu, river, ii. "antelope plain," name given by captain deasy, i. antelopes, i. , , , ; ii. , , ; method of snaring, i. ; ii. aong-tsangpo, river, ii. archery and shooting competitions on horseback, i. argok-tso, lake, ii. arnold, _the light of asia_, quotation from, ii. arport-tso, lake, crossing of ice of, ii. arung-kampa, deserted village of, i. asses, wild, upright position of frozen, ii. ; great herds met with, atkinson, mr. e. t., work by, cited, ii. bailey, lieutenant, acting resident at gyangtse, i. balls, state, in simla, i. ; ii. baltal, i. bando, camp at, ii. barley, roasted, a delicacy, ii. barong-la pass, ii. basang valley, camp in, ii. basgho-gompa, monastery, i. bed, method of making my, i. ben-la pass, storm on, ii. besant, mrs. annie, i. bibles, the tibetan, in library of tashi-lunpo, i. ; in tashi-gembe, biographical details of caravan, i. - birch bark, dream suggested by, ii. boat, our portable, i. ; successful trip of, ; description of tibetan, bogtsang-tsangpo, the, camp at, i. ; interview with chief of district, ; geographical information obtained, ; erratic course of, bokar valley, ii. _bombo_, or district chief, i. bongba, province of, ii. ; tension of journey through the, ; names of the twelve districts of, bongba-changma, district of, ii. bongba-chushar, district of, ii. bongba-kebyang, district of, ii. bongba-kemar, district of, ii. , bongba-kyangrang, high-road to lapchung through, ii. brahmaputra, the, valley of, i. ; welcome news received at, ; monasteries of, ; confluence of the chaktak-tsangpo with, ii. ; measurements and ratios, ; junction of the tsa-chu-tsangpo with, and measurements, ; possible diversion of, ; varying volume of, ; nain sing on its sources, ; webber's confusing statement as to the origin of, ; ryder's map of valley of upper, ; source-streams of, - ; author's determination of its source in kubi-gangri, , ; we bid farewell to, british government, change of, i. ; refuse permission to enter tibet from india, , ; cautious policy of, , buck, mr. edward, ii. , buddha, stone figures of, at dras, i. ; posture of, in statues and pictures, ii. buddhism, introduced into tibet, i. ; preservation of life a fundamental principle of, buka-magna, mountain system, i. bumnak-chu, river, ii. bup-chu-tsangpo, river, sources of, i. buptsang-tsangpo, river, ii. ; scenery of, ; its headwaters, ; camp by the, bupyung-ring valley, beauty of, ii. burrard, colonel s. g., on drainage area of the sutlej, ii. ; book by hayden and, mentioned, ; disapproves of author's use of the name trans-himalaya, burroughs & wellcome, london, medicine-chest presented by, i. , ; my offering to the tashi lama, ; ii. buser-tsangpo, river, ii. "call of the wilderness," the, i. calvert, mr., crosses jukti-la pass, ii. , camp, our first, i. camp life, routine of our, i. ; tibetan, ii. campbell-bannerman, sir henry, i. ; telegrams sent by author to, , candles, christmas-tree of, i. caravan, our, equipment of, i. , ; troublesome members, ; biographical details, - ; rearrangement of, ; home-sickness in, ii. , ; three members dismissed, ; their reinstatement, ; reduction at tokchen, ; reorganization of, ; preparation of new, for fresh expedition, , , ; heavy baggage sent back to leh, ; parting with robert and rub das, ; mohammedan festival, ; losses and sickness, ; superfluous baggage sacrificed, , , ; directions to, ; my hiding-place in, ; festivities in honour of governor of saka, ; divided into two parties, ; combined again, ; parting with my caravan leader and companions, ; farewell to remainder of followers in simla, cassels, mr., present of tea from, ii. chabuk-tso, lake, ii. chak-chom-la pass, i. chakko, holy spring, miraculous powers attributed to, ii. chaklam-la pass, ii. chaktak-tsangpo, river, ii. ; preparations for excursion to, ; confluence with the brahmaputra, ; measurements and ratios, , ; journey northwards along, ; camp again on, ; eastward march along north bank of, ; return to, chamo-lung-chen valley, ii. _chang_, or native beer, i. changa, village of, i. chang-chenmo valley, bivouac at, i. ; ii. chang-la pass, i. ; altar with prayer-streamers on summit of, chang-la-pod-la pass, meaning of the term, ii. ; camp on, chang-lung-barma valley, i. chang-lung-yogma valley, i. , ; difficulties in, ; camp and rest in, ; sunshine and snow, ; magnificent landscape of, changpas, tibetan nomads, i. ; friendliness of, , ; habits and tastes, ; skill in hunting, ; hard life of, ; disposal of their dead, chang-shung, a headwater of the raga-tsangpo, ii. chang-tang, the, desperate situation in, i. ; our successful crossing of, chang yin tang, chinese commissioner in tibet, correspondence with, i. , ; ii. , chapka-la pass, i. charvak, camp at, ii. chega-gompa temple, i. chema-yundung, river, ii. , ; measurement of discharge, chema-yundung-pu, heights of, ii. chenmo, _kotidar_ of tankse, i. , chergip-gompa monastery, its single monk, ii. cherok, district of, ii. chesang-la pass, intense cold on, i. _chhorten_, or stone monument, i. chi chao nan, translation of passage from his work on source of the sutlej, ii. ; accuracy of his statements, chikum, view from camp at, ii. chimre monastery, i. chinese government, messages from, i. , ; importance of supremacy in tibet to the, ; specimen of diplomatic correspondence, ; courtesy of officials to author, chinese passport, efficacy of my, i. chini-chikang, nuns' temporary quarters, tashi-lunpo, i. chiptu-la pass, pilgrim route over, ii. chiu-gompa monastery, visits to, ii. , chockar-shung-chu valley, ii. chokchu, caravan bound for, met with, i. ; the governor of, ii. choma-taka, cave of, ii. chomo-sumdo valley, camp in, ii. chomo-uchong, "high nun," ridge of, ii. , , , chong-yangal, camp at, ii. christmas, our celebration of, i. ; ladaki hymn and dances at, ; translation of hymn sung at, ; comparison of different years, ii. chugge-lung valley, i. chungsang, a tributary of the tsangpo, ii. chunit-tso, lake, ii. , ; warm sulphur spring at, church festivals, lamaist, i. churu pool, camp at, ii. chuta district, sulphurous springs in, i. chykying, the gova of, ii. , cleanliness, ladakis' contempt for, i. cockburn's agency, assistance in furnishing and transport, i. consul of nepal, the, i. , correspondence, arrangements for forwarding, i. , , , ; welcome arrival of, at the ngangtse-tso, ; and at shigatse, _corvée_, system of, exacted on tibetan high-roads, ii. "cripple," our faithful canine follower, i. crosby, expedition of, referred to, i. curzon, lord, encouraging letter from, i. ; leaves india, ; on author's use of name trans-himalaya, ii. dagtse-tso, i. dahlgren, dr. e. w., statement by, as to wall-maps in venice, ii. dalai lama (gyalpo rinpoche), cowardly flight of, i. , ; his sphere compared with that of the tashi lama, ; disastrous policy of, dal-dervaseh, canal journey from, i. dalgleish, mr., monument to, in leh, i. dambak-rong, valley junction, ii. ; letter from the tang darin received at, dam-chu, river, ii. damm valley, ii. _dandy_, or average man's load, i. dane, sir louis, interview with, i. , dangbe-chu, river, i. dangbe-la pass, i. dangra-yum-tso, lake, permission to visit, refused, i. , ; reputed salinity of, ii. ; shape and extent of, ; pilgrim routes round, ; nain sing's nomenclature of district, ; proposed dash for, d'anville, maps by, referred to, ii. , , , dapsang, on the heights of, ii. ; christmas box for the animals at, daya kishen kaul, private secretary to maharaja of kashmir, assistance rendered by, i. , dead, barbarous disposal of the, i. deane, sir harold, i. deasy, captain, "fever camp" of, i. ; baggage and provisions left by, at yeshil-kul, "deasy group," mountain mass, i. , dena-lhakang temple, tashi-lunpo, i. dentistry, drastic form of, ii. devashung. _see_ tibetan government devotional exercises of pilgrims, tashi-lunpo, i. dicha-la pass, importance of watershed, ii. _dikpa-karnak_, or test-stone for sinners, ii. ding-la, the highest pass crossed in our journey, ii. dinner, state, at simla, i. diri-pu monastery, my tent pitched on roof of, ii. disguise, assumed by author, ii. dogs: puppies taken with party, i. ; frolics of, , , , , , ; ii. , ; from pobrang added to caravan, i. ; deserted by one of our, ; a splendid feast, ; loss of two, ; two new followers, ; an interesting event, ; illness and deaths of, ii. , , , ; another happy event, ; loss of brown puppy, , ; purchase of takkar, ; little puppy's first experience of running water, ; takkar's avowal of affection, ; a sorrowful parting, dojas-chimbo, court in tashi-lunpo, i. dokang valley, camp in, i. ; tibetan politeness in, dok-chu (raga-tsangpo), river, voyage through rapids of, i. ; its confluence with the brahmaputra, ; rock-drawings in valley of, ; junction with the my-chu, ; head sources of, ii. dölchu-gompa monastery, mentioned, ii. , döle-gompa nunnery, i. dolma-la pass, pilgrim offerings on, ii. dongchen-la pass, wild sheep on the, ii. dongdong, glaciers of the, ii. ; peaks of the, dongmo-chu, river, ii. dopserma, island of the langak-tso, ii. dorab-la pass, ii. _dorche_, or emblem of thunderbolt, i. dorche tsuen, governor of saka-dzong, discussion of my return route with, ii. - , ; camp festivities in honour of, ; bid farewell to, do-tsengkan, mountain, ii. dras, river, i. ; stone figures of buddha near, i. ; junction with the wakkha, drugub, i. ; our new caravan at, ii. ; salt-caravan at, dsabo, title of official in chagha, i. dsalung-la pass, importance of, ii. duan suen, chinese official in shigatse, i. , duff, general sir beauchamp, i. dufour, map by, ii. dumbok-tso, lake, i. dunglung valley, ii. dunglung-do, valley junction, ii. dungtsa-tso, lake, our camp visited by tibetans at, i. dung-yeilak, oasis of, ii. dunka-la pass, view of the shuru-tso from, ii. dunlop smith, colonel j. r., private secretary to viceroy, i. ; arranges as to my correspondence, ; letter to, from tokchen, ii. ; consignment from, reaches gartok, ; hospitality in simla, ; good-bye to, _dupkang_, or hermitage, ii. dutreuil de rhins, french explorer, i. , , _dzong_, or town with resident governor, i. dzundi village, medicinal springs at, i. eagles, i. earthquake at selipuk, ii. eclipse of the sun, incidents of the, i. electricity, generation of, by driftsand, ii. elephant, a unique, i. emir sing, brother of maharaja of kashmir, i. equipment of caravan, i. , ; ii. escort, our pathan and rajput, i. ; our tibetan, , ; inspection of, ii. ; fresh, from kyangdam, ; route discussed with, ; the governor of saka-dzong supplies military, espionage, system of, i. europeans, tibetan distrust of, i. ; iron statues of, in tashi-gembe monastery, ; increased stringency of regulations regarding, ii. fagu, bungalow of, ii. family ties, looseness of tibetan, i. field-mice, treacherous holes of, i. , , , , ; ii. , fireworks, display of, at srinagar, i. food supplies, calculations and estimates of, i. fox, surprise of a, i. francke, pastor a. h., i. _frithiof's saga_, quotation from, ii. fröding, quotation from, ii. frost-bite, heartless desertion of victim of, ii. funeral customs, gruesome, i. game, abundance of, i. , ; ii. gandän-chöding, nunnery of, i. gandarbal, first camp at, i. ; departure of caravan from, gang-lung, mountain, ii. , gang-lung-chu, river, ii. , ganglung-gangri range, direction of, ii. ganjevan, i. ganju-gompa monastery, ii. ganju-la pass, ii. _gao_, or small case with figure of buddha, i. gara-la pass, ii. gar-gunsa, arrival at, ii. ; misleading reports intentionally spread at, ; plans formed at, ; arrival of consignment from india, ; leave for tankse, gartok, men and baggage sent to, from tokchen, ii. ; main caravan sent to, from khaleb, ; letters received at, ; visit to the garpuns of, ; friendly letter from lien darin at, ; consultation with gulam razul at, ; plans considered, and return to ladak resolved on, ; leave for gar-gunsa, gaura, letters from home received at, ii. gave-ting, massive of kubi-gangri, ii. , gaw daloi, chinese agent at gyangtse, i. ; correspondence with, , gazelles, goa, i. gebuk-chu, confluence of, with the chak-tak-tsangpo, ii. gebuk-la pass, ii. gebuk-yung, district of, ii. geese, wild, flock of, i. ; habits of, , ; migrations of, ii. ; tibetan reverence for, _gelong_, order of priesthood, i. "gelugpa," monastic sect founded by tsong kapa, i. gertse, nomads from, i. , , ; ii. ; their distrust of each other, i. ; house of chief of, ii. getsa-rung, gold placer of, ii. _getsul_, order of priesthood, i. ghe, bivouac at, and escort changed, i. goa-la pass, ii. goa-lung valley, ii. goang-shung, guides obtained at, ii. goang-tso, lake, i. goats, taken with caravan for milk, i. gobrang, ridge of, i. gogra, camp at, i. gold, traces of search for, i. , ; placers, ii. , gomo-selung country, i. gompa-sarpa, cemetery of shigatse, i. gossul-gompa monastery, ii. , ; novices in, ; _lhakang_ of, ; somchung, apartment in, ; view from roof, _gova_, or district chief, i. governors, dual, tibetan system of, ii. govo, village of, ii. govo-tsangpo, river, ii. grünwedel, work on buddhistic mythology by, i. _n._ gubuk-gompa monastery, ii. guffaru, old, i. , , , ; ii. ; appointed caravan leader on muhamed isa's death, ; returns home with thirteen members of caravan, ; safe arrival at gartok, guide, vagaries of our, i. gulam kadir, son of nazer shah, assistance rendered in shigatse by, i. , gulam razul, son of nazer shah, valuable services of, i. ; ii. - ; honours conferred on, i. ; ii. gunda-tammo, nunnery of, i. gunsang ngurbu, a centenarian hermit, ii. gunt, camp at, i. gurkang-pu valley, ii. gurla mandatta, mountain group, ii. , , , ; varying aspects of, ff.; denudation cones, gyalpo rinpoche, "the precious king." _see_ dalai lama gyang-chu, river, ii. gyangtse, letters despatched to, i. ; message from chinese agent at, ; muhamed isa's mission to, , gyebuk-la pass, important trade route, ii. ; view from, gyegong valley, camp in, ii. gyegong-la pass, ii. gye-la pass, ii. gyenor-tsangpo, river, ii. gyuma-chu, river, ii. hajji baba, name assumed by author, ii. hamdung, wandering lamas' quarters in tashi-lunpo, i. hastings, warren, embassies to the tashi lama from, i. , hawkes, general, i. hemis, temple of, near changa, i. hermit, cell of, near linga-gompa, ii. ; his heroic vow, ; his prayers for the sick, ; ceremony of seclusion, ; quotation from fröding, ; living death of, , ; caves of, at nyang-tö-ki-pu, ; waddell on practice of seclusion for life, ; last offices, ; a centenarian, himalayas, the, view of, from the ta-la, i. ; from the angden-la, ii. ; from the serchung-la, hiraman, an old friend, i. , , hlabsen dorche barva, god of tso-mavang, ii. hlaje tsering. _see_ naktsang, governor of hle-lungpa valley, ii. hlindug-ling, i. hodgson, map by, ii. home-sickness in caravan, ii. , "horse years," periods in tibetan cycle of time, ii. horses, purchase and numbering of, i. ; qualities of different breeds, ; auxiliary caravan of, hired from tankse, , ; trouble with, on leaving leh, ; first loss of, ; field-mice holes dangerous for, , ; ii. ; ladaki consideration for dying, i. ; stampede of, , , ; ii. ; mortality among, i. - , , , , , ; ii. ; diet of tibetan, i. ; mules compared with, ; death of my dapple-grey, ; splendid condition of our tibetan, ; survivors at shigatse, ; our veterans, ii. , ; my white ladaki, , , ; enormous wastage of, ; christmas box for our, ; death of brown shigatse, ; and of my faithful white ladaki, ho tsao hsing, secretary to the tang darin, ii. house, description of tibetan stone, ii. ; domestic utensils and possessions, house-boats near gandarbal, i. huc, abbé, book on tibet by, ii. hymn, tibetan, translation of, i. ; wonderful chanting of, in tashi-lunpo, ice, nomads' distrust of the, i. , ; singular formations of, on the ngangtse-tso, idar, the maharaja of, i. illness of author, i. images, manufacture of, in tashi-lunpo, i. immurement, voluntary, of monks, i. ; ii. , . _see_ hermit impressions in stone, i. , india, the tashi lama's visit to, i. indian government, the, sympathy of, i. ; instructions of, as to author's passport, , indus, the, previous search for rise of, i. ; crossed beyond lamayuru, ; start for the source, ii. ; guide and sheep hired, ; discovery of source of, , ; mental picture of its course, ; justifiable feelings, instruments, scientific, taken on expedition, i. jackdaws, flock of, at the shemen-tso, ii. janglung, district of, ii. japanese embassy, representations on my behalf at pekin by, i. jera, camp at, i. jukti-la pass, ii. kabbalo, camp at, i. _kachen_, order of priesthood, i. _kadakh_, long narrow piece of white silk, i. kadsung valley, i. kailas, "the holy mountain," views of, ii. , , , ff.; set out on pilgrimage round, ; nyandi-gompa, ; pilgrims on the way, , ; diri-pu monastery, ; test-stone for sinners, ; universal tibetan reverence for, ; the most famous mountain in the world, ; prostration pilgrimage described, ; pilgrims' performance at dung-chapje, ; offerings on the dolma-la, ; tsumtul-pu monastery, ka-la pass, view of, ii. kali-gandak, river, ii. _kalun_, or high official, i. kamba-sumdo, ii. kamba tsenam, tent-encampment belonging to, ii. ; offer of guide declined, ; nocturnal visit to my tent, ; boastful talk of, ; "father of the robbers," ; enormous tent of, ; good-bye to, kamchung-chu, name of upper chaktak-tsangpo, ii. kam-la pass, i. _kampo lama_, or abbot, i. kanchung-gangri range, ii. , , kando-sanglam valley, view of kailas through, ii. kangan, tents pitched at, i. kanglung-bupchu, river, ii. kanglung-la pass, tiresome ascent to, ii. kang-rinpoche. _see_ kailas kangsham-tsangpo, river, unpleasant crossing of, ii. kanjur-lhakang, library of tashi-lunpo, i. ; lectures in, kapchor, camp at, i. kaptar-khane, camp at, ii. karakash darya, river, ii. karakorum range, appearance of, from chang-lung-yogma, i. ; caravan enveloped by storm from, karbu, an old follower recognized at, i. karbu-la pass, ii. kargan-la pass, ii. kargil, trial and dismissal of kashmiris and pathans from caravan at, i. karma puntso, governor of bongba, ii. , karma tamding, of tang-yung, guide and yaks supplied by, i. karong-tso, lake, ii. karpun, an old acquaintance, i. karu monastery, i. karu, camp at, i. kashmir, maharaja of (sir pratab sing), reception of author by, i. ; fête given by, in honour of emperor of india's birthday, kashmiris, dismissal of, i. kayi-pangbuk, camp at, i. kayi-rung valley, i. kebechungu country, configuration of the, i. ; dust-storm in, kelung-tsangpo, river, i. kesar-tsangpo, river, i. keva, mountain peak, i. khaleb, river, ii. ; camp on moor, , , kichung-la pass, ii. kien lung, emperor of china, visited by third tashi lama, i. kilung-la pass, view from, ii. kinchen-la pass, ii. ; armed search-party visit our camp below the, kitchen of tashi-lunpo, gigantic tea-cauldrons in the, i. kitchener, lord, assistance promised by, i. ; at viceroy's state dinner, simla, ; trophies and curios in house at simla, ; photograph of, in tashi-lunpo, ; hospitality to author, ii. ; bid good-bye to, kograng-sanspo, river, i. , ; difficulties in crossing, kokbo valley, camp in, ii. - ; begging lama at, ; impending difficulties at, köppen, book on lamaism by, i. _n._ kore-la pass, ii. , ; view from, köteklik, ii. kotgar, attend mission service in, ii. krishna, the pundit, i. ; ii. kubi-gangri, excursion to the, ii. , ; source of the brahmaputra located in, ; huge moraines of, ; glaciers of, ; description and names of peaks, kubi-tsangpo, river, ii. ; measurement of discharge of, ; journey up the, kuen-lun mountain system, i. , _kulans_ or _kiangs_, wild asses, i. , , , ; ii. , , kule-la pass, ii. kum-bum monastery, visited by third tashi lama, i. ; miraculous tree in, kungchak-kong valley, ii. kung gushuk, duke, brother of the tashi lama, i. , , ; his house in shigatse, ; portrait drawn of his wife, kung-lung valley, false alarm at, i. ; a prolonged storm, kung-muga, camp at, ii. kung-sherya country, dangers of discovery in, ii. - kung-tsangpo, river, i. kuru-chok, double lake of, ii. kyam-chu, valley of, ii. ; junction of river with the amchok-tso, ; delta of, kyangdam plain, camp on the, ii. kyangdam-tsangpo, river, ii. kyerkye valley, ii. labrang, the, palace of the tashi lama, i. , "lac ammoniac," dutreuil de rhins', i. lache-to island, langak-tso, wild-geese eggs on, ii la-chu, river, ii. ladaki pony, my white, i. , , ; ii. , , , ladakis of caravan, their cheerfulness, i. , ; statements regarding the weather, ; attention to dying horses, ; prayers for successful journey, ; festivities in camp, ; ii. ; want of cleanliness, i. ; marvellous memory of, ; biographical details of, ; lamaists among, receive blessing of the tashi lama, ; home-sickness among, ii. , ; costume of, assumed by author as disguise, ladung-la pass, view from summit of, ii. laen-la pass, i. _lagbas_ (corpse-carriers), hereditary caste of, i. ; gruesome occupation of, la-ghyanyak pass, i. lakes, frozen, tibetan distrust of, i. "lama rinpoche," meaning of title, ii. lama temple at shargul, i. lamaism, a corrupt form of buddhism, i. ; founder of, ; ii. ; books recommended for study of, i. _n._ lamaist church, festivals of the, i. lamas, mendicant, i. , ; various orders of, ; devotional pilgrimage of wandering, lamayuru, village and monastery of, i. , lamblung valley, camp in, i. lamlung-la pass, view from, ii. lamlung-la pass, teri-nam-tso, ii. lanak-la pass, closed to author, i. landslip, a huge, ii. langak-tso, lake, ii. , ; levels taken of isthmus between manasarowar and, ; earlier explorers' visits, ; channel from manasarowar to, , , ; legend as to origin of channel, ; outline of, ; sandspouts at, ; prolonged storm at, ; goose-island of, , ; freezing of, langbo-nan monastery, twelve-year-old abbot of, ii. , langchen-kabab, spring of, ii. langchen-kamba, valley and spring of, ii. langchen-kamba (elephant river), tibetan name for the sutlej, ii. langmar village, camp at, ii. langmar-tsangpo, river (upper my-chu), ii. langta-chen massive, kubi-gangri, ii. lap, severe climate of, ii. lapchung-tso, lake, ii. lapsen-tari, view of targo-gangri from, ii. largep, chief of, friction with, ii. ; presents from, la-rock pass, i. lashman das, pundit, i. la-shung country, i. la-shung-tso, lake, i. lavar-gangri, mountain region, ii. lavar-tsangpo, river, ii. ldata valley, i. leh, arrival at, and quarters in, i. ; our final preparations in, , ; advance caravan despatched from, ; hajji nazer shah, a wealthy merchant of, ; assistance of gulam razul, his son, ; description of town, ; old palace of, ; graves of europeans in, ; incidents of our send-off from, lehlung-gompa, visit to monastery of, i. ; stuffed yaks in, lemchung-tso, lake, camp at the, ii. ; beginning of a thirty-days' storm at, lenjo, valley of, i. lesdain, count de, i. ; book on tibet by, ii. letters, welcome arrival of, i. , ; arrangements for forwarding, , , , ; despatch of, from tokchen, ii. lhasa, visit of officials from, i. , ; tundup sonam and tashi despatched with letters to, ii. ; instructions to tibetans from, as to my journey, lhayak, camp in, ii. lien darin, amban of lhasa, correspondence with, i. , ; ii. , lighten, lake, camp and rest at, i. ; personnel of caravan reduced at, ; second camp at, ; soundings and measurements of, - ; storm on, ; a miserable night at, ; varied memories of, ; rescue party reach us, ; sudden change of scenery on leaving, liktse-gompa monastery, ii. ; skulls as drinking-vessels in, linga-gompa monastery, i. ; disposal of deceased monk's property, ; view from, , ; rhythmical chanting in, ; pesu temple in, ; an optical illusion, linga-kok village, camp at, i. lingö village, rock-drawings near, i. loang-gonga, river, ii. lobsang, my tibetan follower, ii. lobsang shunten, secretary to governor of naktsang, i. lobsang tsering, secretary to the tashi lama, visit of, in shigatse, i. lobsang tsering, tibetan nomad, i. , lo gapu, nepalese frontier chief, ii. , log, by lyth of stockholm, i. ; ii. long, camp at, ii. lopchak mission, the, a lucrative monopoly, i. lopön rinpoche. _see_ padma sambhava losar, the (new year festival of lama church). _see_ new year festival lo-shung, the, headwater of the raga-tsangpo, ii. lukkong, village of, i. luma-shar country, ii. lumbo-gangri, holy mountain, view of, from the kilung-la, ii. lumbur-ringmo-tso, lake, ii. ; suspicions of nomads at, ; purchase of sheep at, lundup tsering, leader of naktsang party, ii. lungdep-chu, the, tributary of the indus, ii. lungdep-ningri, head of wild sheep secured on, ii. lung-ganden-gompa monastery, i. ; hermit of the, ii. lungnak valley, i. lungnak-bupchu, stream, ii. lungring pass, ii. lung-yung, river, ii. lunkar, camp at, i. ; arrangement of caravan on leaving, lunkar-gompa monastery, ii. lunkar-la pass, ii. lunpo-gangri, peaks of, varying views, ii. ff. lying, successful, tibetan admiration of, ii. mabie-tangsam-angmo, camp at, ii. ma chi fu, chinese official from lhasa, i. , machung village, symbolic designs at, i. m'swiney, colonel, i. ma daloi, chinese commander in shigatse, i. , ; celebration of chinese new year, ; orders me to leave shigatse, madö gemo, the fish-god of tso-mavang, ii. ma-lung, river, i. mamer, village of, i. manasarowar, "the holy lake," ii. ; hindu veneration for, ; surpassing beauty of the lake and its surroundings, ; tibetan superstitions as to, , ; former levels, ; our first sail on, ; soundings and temperatures of, ff.; lightning effects on, ; wonderful natural phenomena, , ; long voyage on, ; pilgrims at, , ; the lamas of gossul-gompa astonished, ; outlets of, ; storm on, ; peculiar wave undulations, ; map of shore-line drawn, ; origin of lake determined, ; tugu-gompa and yanggo-gompa, , ; hindu homage to the, ; terrific storm on, - ; succour from gossul-gompa, , ; monks' contradictory statements as to, ; its sanctity, ; springs of, , ; underground connection with langak-tso, , ; outline of, ; chiu-gompa, ; our last days on, ; pundi-gompa and langbo-nan monasteries, , ; amount of surface water flowing into, ; channel between langak-tso and, , , ; chergip-gompa, ; freezing of, ; journey along northern shore, _mani ringmos_, or stone cists covered with slabs i. mankogh-la pass, i. manlung valley, i. manuel, cook to author, i. ; his broken english, ; sent home from lake lighten, , maps referred to: of nain sing, i. , ; ii, , , , , , ; ryder and wood, , , , ; webber, ; d'anville, , , , ; hodgson, ; dufour, ; saunders, ; atkinson, ; krishna, march, length of a day's, i. marchar-tso, lake, i. marium-chu, river, ii. marium-la pass, crossed by nain sing, ii. markham, sir clements, book by, mentioned, ii. markham, lake, discovered and named by captain rawling, i. marku-tso, lake, i. marnyak-la pass, ii. marsimik-la pass, slow progress of caravan over, i. ; disagreeable descent of, martsang-tsangpo, river, ii. marx, dr. karl, i. marx, rev. mr., missionary at poo, ii. massieu, madame, meeting with, at taranda, ii. matayun, camp at, i. ; disturbance in caravan at, mausoleums of five tashi lamas in tashi-lunpo, i. - medicine-chest, a popular, i. , ; presented to the tashi lama, memo-chutsen, warm spring of, ii. memory, examples of marvellous, i. men-chu, river, ii. men-chu valley, camp in, ii. mendicants, tibetan, i. mendong-gompa monastery, tent-villages of, ii. menu, a tempting, i. merke-sang, view from, ii. meteorological observations, i. minto, countess of, i. , , ; ii. minto, earl of, viceroy of india, efforts on behalf of author, i. ; state dinner and levée by, ; receives author as his guest, ; his popularity in india, and state service, ; family life of, ; author's farewell to, and family, ; hospitality of, ii. ; speech to my followers, ; good-bye to, mirage, perplexing effects of, i. ; ii. mittag-leffler, professor, stockholm university, ii. mogbo-dimrop country, i. ; gloomy news in, mohanlal, merchant of leh, i. , mohanlal, hindu doctor, ii. mollah shah, a former follower, met with, ii. monks in tashi-lunpo, religious ceremonies by, i. ff.; grades and number of, , ; daily life of, , ; great consumption of tea among, , ; voluntary immurement of certain, ; strict rule enforced, ; manufacture of images by, ; funeral customs, monlam-gongma, ii. monsoon rains, importance of, ii. montgomerie, colonel t. g., ii. , moravian missionaries in leh, kindness of, i. ; admirable work among the ladakis, , morley, lord, secretary of state for india, i. , , ; explains refusal of permission to enter tibet, muglib, muster of camp and inspection of animals at, i. muhamed isa, my caravan leader, i. ; experience and qualifications, , ; his preparations for equipment of caravan, ; watchful care exercised by, ; his opinion of the rajput escort, ; way-marks erected by, , ; sets out for gyangtse, , ; arranges festivities in basang camp, ii. ; leaves with main caravan for saka, ; illness and sufferings of, , ; his death, ; funeral of, ; appreciations of, , ; inscription on tombstone, ; guffaru appointed his successor, ; mohammedans hold memorial feast, ; depressing effects of his death, muhamed rehim, merchant from khotan, ii. mukchung-simo massive, kubi-gangri, ii. , mukden, christmas spent in, ii. mules, comparison of poonch and tibetan, i. , ; heavy losses of, , , , ; our new animals at gar-gunsa, ii. ; tonic effects of whisky on, , ; death of our last veteran, mundang, nepal, caravan from, ii. munjam valley, ii. mun-tso, twin lakes, position of, ii. my-chu-tsangpo, river, i. , ; complicated system of, ; confluence of dok-chu with, ; journey up valley of, ff.; scenery of, ; an eccentric guide, ; commercial importance of valley route, nadsum, camp at, i. nagma-tsangpo (chuma), river, ii. nagor, the gova of, ii. nagrong valley, monk-doctor's tent in, ii. ; animals and stores purchased in, nain sing, his discovery of great lakes of central tibet, i. ; nomenclature of bogtsang-tsangpo district, ; outline of the ngangtse-tso, ; maps of, referred to, , ; ii. , , , , , ; on source of brahmaputra, nakbo-gongrong-gangri, mountain, ii. nakbo-kongdo-la pass, ii. nakchu, pilgrims from, i. ; purchases from, naktsang, governor of, refuses to allow caravan to proceed, i. , , ; previous trouble with, ; meetings with, , ; his treatment by the devashung, , , ; my proposals to, ; unexpected change of front by, ; eclipse of sun explained to, ; cordial leave-taking, naktsang, horsemen from, our progress stopped by, ii. ; palaver and agreement with, ; costumes and equipment of, namachang district, camp in, i. namarding valley, camp in, ii. nama-shu, camp at, ii. namchen valley, joint camp in the, ii. ; stores laid in at, ; renewed discussion of my return route at meeting in, namgyal-lhakang temple, tashi-lunpo, service in, i. namla, village of, ii. namla-gompa monastery, ii. namreldi, valley and stream, ii. nangsang-la pass, ii. naong-rung valley, i. naong-tsangpo, river, i. nayala, mountain, i. nazer shah, hajji, a wealthy patriarch of leh, i. ; lucrative monopoly in family of, ; services rendered to author by his sons, , , ; ii. - ; commercial interests in shigatse, i. nebuk, village of, ii. neka district, camp in, i. ; sickness in caravan at, nema-tok, camp at, ii. nepal, the consul of, at tashi-lunpo, i. , ; a stolen visit into, ii. ; temptation to extend journey southwards, nerung-tsangpo, river, ii. neve, dr. arthur, srinagar, i. neve, dr. ernest, i. new year, chinese, celebration of, i. new year festival, tashi-lunpo: its popularity, i. ; our dress for, and journey to, ; a picturesque assemblage, ; dresses at, ; reasons for increase of interest in, ; an enthralling hymn-chant, ; arrival of the tashi lama and his court, ; religious dances and masques, ; effect on the spectators, ; a symbolic fire, ; combined dance of lamas, ; general purpose and significance of the ceremonies, ngangga, or ganga, channel between manasarowar and the langak-tso, ii. , nganglaring-tso, lake, irregular outline of, ii. ngangtse-tso, lake, rest at, i. ; thickness of ice of, ; hermit's cave at, ; soundings on, ff.; sledge constructed, ; singular ice-effects, - ; new year's day on, ; nain sing's outline of, ; crustaceæ in, ; trying weather on, ; letter with bad news from robert, ; meetings with governor of naktsang at, , ; arrival of mail-bag, ; reasons for remembering the, ngartang, bivouac in, i. ngavang, joint governor of saka-dzong, ii. , ngomo-dingding, glaciers of, ii. , , ngurbu tondup, our mail-carrier to gyangtse, i. , ; brings us good news, ngurkung-la pass, ii. nien-chen-tang-la range, geographical importance of, i. , ; ii. , ; questions as to its direction and extent, , nima-lung-la pass, ii. nima-pendi valley, ii. nima tashi, chief of escort, ii. no man's land, i. nomads, first meeting with, i. , ; from naktsang, ; from senkor, ii. nubra, i. nuns, in tashi-lunpo, i. , ; in mendong-gompa, ii. nurla station-house, i. nyandi-gompa monastery, ii. ; periodic increase of pilgrims to, ; halls of, nyang-chu, river, i. nyang-tö-ki-pu, hermits' caves at, ii. nyanyo, village in nepal, ii. nyapchu-tsangpo, river, ii. nyuku, friendliness of gova of, ii. , ; arrival and camp at, oang gye, son of governor of saka-dzong, ii. , ; his grief at shooting of wild-goose, o'connor, major w. f., british trade agent at gyangtse, i. , ; interpreter to the tashi lama in india, ; welcome surprise from, ; correspondence with, ; muhamed isa despatched to, , ; gift of books from, ii. , ogawa, professor, kioto university, translation by, ii. ogorung-tsangpo, river, ii. "om mani padme hum," tibetan sacred formula, i. ; ii. , ; waddell's remarks on, ; universality of, - ; köppen and grünwedel's translation of, ombo, nomads from, i. _ombo_, shrub used for fuel, ii. pabla, mountain range, i. ; solution of important geographical problem of the, , pachen valley, ii. , , pachung valley, ii. , , padma sambhava, founder of lamaism, i. ; ii. _pama_, species of juniper, ii. pama valley, ii. pamzal, i. , panchen rinpoche, "the great precious teacher." _see_ tashi lama panchor, brother of kamba tsenam, ii. ; acts as our guide, ; doubtful character of, , , panggong pass, i. panggong-tso, lake, i. ; previous visit to, pangsetak, camp at, ii. pankur country, ii. parka, baggage sent to, ii. ; camp at, parka tasam, threats by, ii. partridges, shooting of, causes suspicion, ii. parva valley, camp above the, ii. pasa-guk, village of, ii. ; unreliable data in, passes of the trans-himalaya, principal, ii. ; unknown, crossed by author, ; average height of, passport, chinese, ultimate value of, i. ; cancelling of, ; terms of my new, ; ii. , pathans of escort, i. ; difficulties with, ; dismissed from caravan, pati-bo, district of, i. patterson, captain, joint-commissioner of ladak, kindness of, i. , ; addresses caravan before starting, pears, colonel, resident at srinagar, letter from, i. pedang-tsangpo, valley of the, ii. , _peling_, or european, i. pemba tsering, of saka, ii. , , , pensa, gova, ii. pere-pala, nepalese merchants' serai in shigatse, i. permanakbo-tang valley, camp in, i. peter, rev. mr., leh, i. , pike-la pass, i. pilgrimage of prostration, description of, ii. pilgrims, meeting with, and purchases from, i. , ; on the tsangpo, ; in tashi-lunpo, , ; devotional exercises, ; my experiences of mecca, ii. ; hindu, at manasarowar, , ; on journey round kailas, , ; mental sketch of great routes of, pinzoling, bridge at, i. pobrang village, meeting with english sportsmen at, i. ; rest for man and beast at, ; arrangements made for letters, ; our last point of contact with outer world, , political complications: tibetan government officials' visit in shigatse, i. ; orders from tibetan and chinese governments, , ; advice from gaw daloi, ; letters to chinese and tibetan state officials, ; chinese supremacy, ; letter from chang yin tang, pongchen-la pass, i. poo, moravian missionaries' hospitality at, ii. ; takkar's return to, poonch, mules from, compared with tibetan, i. ; trouble with men from, porung valley, sulphurous springs in, i. poru-tso, lake, view of, ii. potu-la pass, i. prayer formula, tibetan, i. , , , prayer-mills, in tashi-lunpo, i. ; in tashi-gembe, ; ubiquity of, ii. priesthood, orders of, i. ; domination of the, in tibet, prostration pilgrimage, description of, ii. pu-chu, valley of, ii. pul-tso, lake, camp at, i. ; sudden storms at, , ; soundings and measurements, - ; crustaceæ in, ; mysterious camp-fire, pundi, double peaks of, ii. , , pundi-gompa monastery, ii. pung-chu, river, ii. punjab, lieutenant-governor of the, i. puntsuk, tibetan nomad, i. , pupchung-tsangpo, river, i. purang, epidemic of smallpox at, ii. _pustin_, yarkand fur coat, i. pusum village, camp at, i. quadt, count, german consul-general, dinner given at simla by, i. quetta, i. rabsang, biographical details of, i. races, mixture of, in caravan, i. radak valley, ii. raga-tasam, camp at, ii. ; route of rawling's expedition touched at, ; messengers despatched to shigatse from, ; camp life at, ; tibetan government's instructions regarding author, ; visit of the gova of, raga-tsangpo, river. _see_ dok-chu ragok valley, i. rains, importance of monsoon, ii. ; our first, since leaving ladak, rajputs of escort, i. ; muhamed isa's opinion of, , ; sent home at lake lighten, , rakas-tal. _see_ langak-tso rambirpur, village of, i. rartse plain, arrival of missing followers at camp in the, ii. ravak-la pass, ii. ravens, pertinacity of, i. , , , rawalpindi, i. rawling, captain c. g., i. , ; discovers captain deasy's stores at the yeshil-kul, ; maps out yeshil-kul district, , ; lake markham discovered and named by, ; expedition to gartok under, ii. rehim ali, lessons in rowing to, i. ; terror of, in storm on lake lighten, ; attacked by wild yak, ; sacrifice offered up by, religions, various, in caravan, i. , ribbach, mr. and mrs., leh, i. richen-chu, river, ii. richung-chu, river, ii. rickshaws, reason for their abundance in simla, i. rigi-hloma, gova of, interesting information by the, ii. _rikchen_, order of priesthood, i. rinakchutsen, lake, camp at, i. _ringding_, order of priesthood, i. riochung country, camp in the, ii. robbers, in the chaktak-tsangpo country, ii. ; tibetan punishment of, robert, my faithful servant and meteorological assistant, i. , , , ; medical skill of, ; home-sickness of, ii. ; bad news received by, ; my parting with, rock valley, ii. rock-drawings in dok-chu valley, i. ronggak-chu, river, ii. ruins, encouraging effect of discovery of, i. rukyok-tsangpo, river, and valley, ii. , rung valley, bivouac in, i. rung-chu, river, i. rungma, village of, i. , ryder and wood, maps by, referred to, ii. , , , sachu-tsangpo, river, ii. ; camp at the, sadung, camp at, i. saka, permission for excursion granted by governor of, ii. ; arrival at, ; difficulties with officials of, ; longing to get away from, ; village life, ; search-party from, visit our camp, ; my return route discussed with the governor of, - , sakti, village of, i. saka-gompa monastery, ii. salt-caravans, ii. , , salt lakes, gradual shrinking of tibetan, i. ; importance of their product, salutation, tibetan form of, i. , , , samde-puk convent, ii. ; hermit's cell near, _samkang_, or hermit's cave, i. samo-tsangpo, river, fish of, ii. samye-la pass, hydrographical and geographical importance of, ii. ; unbroken continuance of the trans-himalaya proved at, ; not on the same chain as the angden-la, sanchen-la pass, ii. sandhills, shifting, on the brahmaputra, ii. sand-spout, near amchok-yung, ii. sangchen-chu, river, camp at the, ii. sangge-ngamo-buk, visit from chief of, ii. sangmo-bertik valley, ii. sangmo-bertik-la pass, ii. sangra, mountain, i. sangra-palhe valley, i. saspul, i. satsot-la pass, ii. saunders, map by, ii. schnabel, rev. mr., missionary at poo, ii. search-party from saka, ii. ; their instructions regarding us, , ; my recognition of pemba tsering and interview with, - ; agree to accompany them to semoku, sekya monastery, i. sela-la pass, i. , ; triumphant reflections at, sele-nang valley, i. , selin-do, camp at, i. selipuk-gompa monastery, abbot of, ii. ; earthquake at, selung-urdu valley and glacier, ii. semoku, journey to, ii. ; meeting with governor of saka-dzong in, - ; mutual courtesies at, senes-yung-ringmo, ii. sen-kamba-la pass, ii. senkor, nomads from, ii. seoyinna, mountain, i. serchung-la pass, view from, ii. sereding, hill, i. serme-lartsa, ii. serolung valley, camp at, ii. serolung-gompa monastery, ii. serpo-tsunge, mountain, i. serpun-lam, the, great high-road of, ii. , sershik-gompa monastery, ii. sertsang-chu, river, visit of tibetans at, i. sha-kangsham, mountain, ii. , , , , shak-chu, river, ii. sha-la pass, ii. shalung-la pass, ii. sham valley, camp in, i. shamsang, camp at, ii. shangbuk-la pass, ii. , shang-chu, river, i. shapka, camp at, ii. shapku-chu stream, ii. shargul, lama temple at, i. shar-tso, lake, ii. shawe, dr., leh, i. sheep, return of our missing, i. ; wild, ; ii. , , ; used as pack-animals, , sheep-driving, author's inaptitude for, ii. shemen-tso, lake, camp at, ii. ; journey along, sherring, mr. c. a., ii. ; kindness of, and mrs., sheryak, camp in, ii. shey monastery, i. shialung valley, camp near, ii. shib-la-yilung valley, i. shigatse, arrival at, i. ; interview with commander of chinese garrison, ; remains of caravan at, ; visited by tibetan officials at, ; impression made by my chinese passport, ; permission to attend new year festival in tashi-lunpo, ; description of festival, - ; return ma daloi's visit, ; arrangements for visit to the tashi lama, ; architecture of, ; dzong of, , ; sports-meeting at, - ; chinese new year celebration, ; gruesome funeral customs, ; lhasa government officials' visit to me, ; arrival of correspondence, ; assistance rendered by gulam kadir, ; market-place of, ; system of espionage in, ; sketches of women in, ; variety of types and costumes, ; visit to kung gushuk, ; chinese intrigues in, ; review of my position, ; sudden cordiality of authorities in, ; formal council held, and my return route specified, ; a canine interlude in, ; preparations for departure from, ; messengers despatched from raga-tasam to, ii. shipki, village of, ii. shipki-la pass, farewell to tibet from, ii. shooting competitions, tibetan, i. shovo-tso, lake, camp on shore of, ii. shukkur ali, uniform cheerfulness of, i. shuru-tso, lake, i. ; ii. ; terraces of, ; unusual direction of, ; storm on, ; shape of, shyok valley, wretched journey through the, ii. - ; farewell festival in village, ; caravan derelicts in, ; canine happy event, ; enormous wastage of horses in, , ; scarcity of provender, ; our complicated situation, ; miserable camping-places, , ; mohammedan hymn in, simla, scenery of railway journey to, i. ; arrival at, and welcome by sir francis younghusband, ; anxious moments in, ; state functions in viceregal lodge, , ; ii. ; rickshaws in, i. ; lord kitchener's house in, ; ii. ; departure from, i. ; return to, ii. ; residence in viceregal lodge, i. ; ii. ; hospitality of colonel dunlop smith and lord kitchener, , ; lecture before the viceregal court, ; good-bye to my ladakis and little puppy in, sind, valley of the, i. singi-buk, camp at, ii. singi-chava, ii. singi-kabab, source of the indus, ii. , singi-tsangpo, or indus, ii. singi-yüra, ii. singrul, camp at, i. sirchung, village of, i. skulls as drinking-vessels, liktse-gompa, ii. sledges, on the ngangtse-tso, i. smallpox epidemic at purang, ii. "snoring kunchuk," ii. , ; new title for, snowstorm, a terrific, ii. sogbarong tsering tundup, tibetan nomad, ii. soma-tsangpo, river, camp at, ii. ; journey along the, sonam ngurbu, governor of chokchu, ii. sonamarg, bivouac at, i. sonam tsering, leader of advance caravan, i. ; in charge of the mules, ; points out deasy's depot, so valley, i. source of the brahmaputra, ii. , ; of the sutlej, , , ; of the indus, spanglung valley, camp near, i. spittol monastery, i. sports, tibetan, i. - srinagar, scenery of journey to, i. ; arrival at, ; dinner-table talk about author, ; interview with the maharaja of kashmir's private secretary, ; fête at, ; equipment of caravan, ; departure from, ; puppies taken from, ; plates and rock specimens sent to, srong tsan ganpo, wives of, i. stagna-gompa monastery, i. stockholm, departure from, i. stok, the raja of, letter of recommendation from, i. , stokpa, village of, i. stoliczka, dr., monument in leh, i. stone, impressions in, i. , storm, a thirty-days', ii. ff. sulphur springs, chuta district, i. ; in porung valley, ; at the chunit-tso, ii. sultak, i. sumdang-tsangpo, river, ii. sun, eclipse of the, i. sung-chu, river, ii. surnge-la pass, ii. sur-la pass, ii. sutlej, the, source of, ii. , , , ; old bed of, ; tibetan name of, and assertions regarding its origin, ; translation of chinese extract as to its source, ; its source and that of the tage-tsangpo the same, , ; accuracy of chi chao nan's statements regarding, ; colonel burrard on drainage area of, tabie-tsaka, lake, salt-caravans from, ii. , ; location of the, ; view of, tagar, village of, i. tage-bup valley, ii. tage-tsangpo river, ii. , ; measurements of, ; its source that of the sutlej, , tagla tsering, chief of sangge-ngamo-buk, visit from, ii. tagrak-tsangpo, river, i. , tagramoche district, bivouac in, ii. takbur district, high-handed behaviour of chief of, ii. , ; abundance of game in, takbur-la pass, ii. takkar, our tibetan dog, ii. , , ; his antipathy to tibetans, , ; devours wolf-cub, ; returns to poo, takyung lama, abbot of mendong-gompa, ii. , ta-la, or "horse pass," view from, i. _talkan_, or roasted meal, i. tambak valley, ii. tamchok-kamba (brahmaputra), river, i. , tamlung-la pass, important watershed of, ii. , tamlung-tso, lake, ii. tanak (black horse) valley, camp in, i. , tanak-puchu valley, i. tang darin. _see_ chang yin tang tangna, village of, i. tang-yung province, tibetan visitors from, i. , tang-yung-tsaka, lake, i. tanjur, one of the two tibetan bibles, i. _tanka_, or pictorial banner, i. tankse, auxiliary horses hired from, i. , ; camp and rest at, ; festivities in caravan at, ; men from, petition to be allowed to return home, ; parting with my ladakis at, ii. tankse, river, i. tarbung-la pass, ii. tarchen-labrang, ii. , , targo-gangri, view of the, ii. , , ; glaciers of, , targo-tsangpo, river, ii. ; valley of, ; our progress stopped at the, ; terraces of, , targot-la pass, ii. targyaling-gompa monastery, camp below, ii. ; intolerant behaviour of lamas of, ; plundered by robbers, tarmatse-tso, lake, i. tarok-tso, lake, position of, ii. ; described, _tarpoche_, or votive pole, i. tarting-choro, village of, i. tarting-gompa monastery, i. , ; sepulchres of high priests of, ; preparations for deceased lama's funeral pyre at, ; reflections on monastic life, _tasam_, or high-road, ii. tasang-la pass, ii. tashi, despatched to shigatse, ii. ; his return and adventures, tashi-gembe monastery, i. , ; the two tibetan bibles in, ; temples of, ; incongruous european figures in, ; prayer-cylinders in, ; brilliant colouring of, tashi lama, the, increased prestige of, i. , ; kindness to us at new year festival, ; my visit to, ; dress and general appearance of, ; his kindly reception of author, ; intelligence and shrewd questions of, , ; his pleasant recollections of visit to india, ; widespread power of, ; previous visits of europeans to, ; attributes and functions of the dalai lama and, ; favours granted to author by, ; medicine-chest presented to, ; ineffaceable impressions left by, , ; ceremonies observed on the approaching death of a, ; method of choosing his successor, ; mausoleums of previous tashi lamas, ; record length of service of first, ; visit of third tashi lama to pekin, ; footprint of, ; photograph taken of, ; presents gifts to author, ; rigidly prescribed life of, ; his anxious questioning of author, ; farewell greetings from, tashi-lunpo, new year festival in, i. - ; a cloister town, ; the labrang, ; aerial street system in, ; mausoleums of earlier tashi lamas, - ; date of foundation, ; library of, ; temple of tsong kapa, ; a sacred staircase, ; clerical tailors in, ; religious ceremonies witnessed, ff.; grades and numbers of monks, , ; bells of, ; nuns and pilgrims in, , ; author's interview with the tashi lama, ; pilgrims' devotional exercises in, ; sources of income, ; monks' life in, , ; prayer-mills of, ; tea a favourite beverage in, , ; kitchen of, ; the walling-up of certain monks, ; the dena-lhakang temple, ; manufacture of images, ; funeral customs, ; last visit to, tayep-parva-la pass, ii. tea, tibetan, i. ; monks' fondness for, in tashi-lunpo, ; enormous infusions of, tea-pots, costly, i. teheran, christmas spent in, ii. tela-mata-la pass, ii. telegrams to british prime minister, i. , temperature, sudden change of, i. ; records of low, , , , , , ; lowest recorded by author in asia, ii. temple, lama, i. _tenga_, tibetan coin, i. teri-nam-tso, "the heavenly lake," ii. ; its salinity, ; journey along southern shore, ; different pronunciations, and meaning of the name, ; extent of, and height above sea-level, terkung-rung valley, lhasa caravan in, i. ; importance of road through, teta-la pass, view from, ii. thakur jai chand, gartok, ii. , , ; provisions and letters from, thirteen, the number, prominence of, in author's journey, i. , ; ii. thirty-days' storm, a, ii. ff. tibetan government, the, vindictive treatment of the governor of naktsang by, i. , , ; proclamation on retiral of british expedition, ; author visited by two officials from, , ; system of spies, ; orders to author to leave the country, ; increased stringency of, regarding europeans, ii. tibetan language, author's lessons in, ii. tigu-tang, dangerous roadway of, i. tikze, monastery and village of, i. ; camp at, ting-la pass, view from, ii. tirtapuri monastery, parting with followers at, ii. titles, high-sounding, applied to author, ii. toa-nadsum, bivouac at, i. tokchen, the gova of, ii. , ; caravan reduced at, ; valley of, ; return to, ; departure from, tok-jonsung, bivouac at, ii. tokpas, tibetan gold-diggers, i. tombs of the tashi lamas, i. - tong, the gova of, i. tong-tso, bivouac on shore of the, ii. tongue, protrusion of the, tibetan salutation, i. , , tooth, mr. lucas, the last european seen by author for two years, i. topelius, christmas song of the poet, quoted, i. tormakaru, mountain, i. torno-shapko, unfriendliness of nomads at, i. totling-gompa monastery, news from the outer world at, ii. tova-tova, district of, i. tradum, the gova of, ii. , , , , ; camp at village of, ; excursion from, tradum-gompa monastery, ii. ; hermit's dwelling at, trans-himalaya, the, author's first crossing of, i. ; geographical and climatic importance of, ; ii. , ; approach to main crest of, ; second crossing of, ; third crossing, ; fourth and fifth crossings of, , ; sixth crossing, ; its unbroken continuance proved, ; seventh and eighth crossings, , ; previous attempts to map out, and books treating of, - ; ryder and wood's bearings of, ; statement regarding wall-maps in venice, ; principal passes of, ; previously unknown passes crossed by author, ; length and breadth of, and average height of passes, ; general comparison of, with the himalayan system, ; author's reason for use of name, ; opinions for and against the title, , treaty, new, between great britain and russia, ii. tree, miraculous, in kum-bum monastery, i. tsa-chu-tsangpo, river, junction with upper brahmaputra, ii. tsaktserkan, author's official attendant in shigatse, i. , tsalam-nakta-la pass, ii. _tsamba_, or parched meal, i. tsangpo (upper brahmaputra), river, i. ; formation and fertility of valley, , ; varying nomenclature of, ; description of boats on, ; varied scenery of, , ; day-dreams on, ; pilgrim parties on, , ; dust-storms, , tsasa-la pass, ii. tsechung-tso, lake, ii. tsepagmed, seated figure of buddha, i. tsering, cook to author, i. ; loquacity of, , ; vocal powers of, ii. tsering dava, tibetan nomad, i. , tseti-la pass, ii. tseti-lachen-la pass, ii. tso, district of, ii. tso-kharki-tsangpo, river, ii. tso-mavang. _see_ manasarowar tsong kapa, temple of, in tashi-lunpo, i. , ; reforms lamaism and introduces monastic celibacy, tsongpun tashi, merchant from lhasa, ii. , ; purchases from, ; visits our camp, ; his suspicions, tso-niti, pools of, ii. tso-niti-kargang pass, ii. tso-nyak, lake, ii. tso-ri, or "lake mountain," the, i. tsotot-karpo, lake, ii. tsukchung-chang pass, i. tsumtul-pu monastery, bivouac on roof of, ii. tubges, huntsman to caravan, ii. tugden-gompa monastery, i. ; statues in, tugri-la pass, ii. tugu-gompa monastery, ii. ; wool-market at, ; interesting picture in, ; shrine of lake-god in, ; monks' offering to their god on author's behalf, ; translation of inscription in, tugu-lhamo, height, i. tuksum, the gova of, ii. ; grants permission to author to travel on south side of river, tumsang valley, i. tundup sonam, huntsman to caravan, i. , , , , , , ; despatched to shigatse, ii. ; his return and adventures, turkestan, eastern, ostensible object of expedition, i. , ; passport for, requested from swedish minister in london, tuta, camp at, ii. tuto-pukpa, mountain, ii. tynchung valley, camp in, ii. ugyu, tibetan youth, his wonderful recovery from bullet-wound, ii. ujam-tso, lake, ii. umbo district, camp in the, ii. ushy, village of, ii. ushy-la pass, ii. utensils, tibetan domestic, ii. vezir vezarat, the, i. ; author's headquarters in house of, at leh, viceregal lodge, simla, state functions in, i. , ; ii. ; author's quarters in, i. ; ii. ; description of, i. vultures, abandonment of tibetan dead to the, i. ; ii. waddell, work on buddhism by, cited, i. _n._; opinion on monastic seclusion, ii. ; on tibetan sacred formula, wakkha, river, i. walker, dr. gilbert, simla, presents from, ii. wallenberg, herr g. o., swedish ambassador in pekin, i. wall-paintings in tugu-gompa, ii. weather, tibetan, i. , , , webber, thomas, on sources of the brahmaputra, ii. whisky, a tonic for mules, ii. , "wilderness, the call of the," i. wolves, persistency of, i. , , , women, descriptions of shigatse, i. ; uniform dirtiness of, , wool-market in tugu-gompa, ii. wrangel, count, swedish minister in london, passport requested from, i. , yaks, as beasts of burden, i. , , ; ii. , , ; abundance of wild, i. ; rehim ali's adventure with a, yalloa-champa, holy apartment in tashi-lunpo, i. yamba, lieutenant to chief of tarok-shung, ii. yamchuk, village of, ii. yamchuk-pu valley, ii. yanggo-gompa monastery, ii. , _yapkak_, plant used as forage and fuel, i. , yere-tsangpo, river, i. yeshil-kul, lake, view of, i. ; antelope-traps at, ; intense saltness of, ; soundings on, ; choice between shipwreck and wolves, ; storm on, ; a freezing night, ; deasy's depot discovered by rawling, ; previous travellers' visits, ye-shung valley, camp in, i. , ; monasteries in, yildan, hunters from, ii. yimba tashi, abbot of linga-gompa, i. younghusband, sir francis, welcomes author to simla, i. ; expedition to lhasa referred to, ; parting with, ; letter as to passport from, ; recommends muhamed isa to author, , yulgunluk, ii. yumba-matsen, ii. _yungchen_, order of priesthood, i. zambul, _numberdar_ of pobrang, i. , zoji-la pass, difficulties of caravan in the, i. zugmayer, austrian naturalist, i. the end _printed by_ r. & r. clark, limited, _edinburgh_. books on india forty-one years in india. from subaltern to commander-in-chief. by field-marshal earl roberts, v.c. library edition. vols., vo. s. popular edition. extra crown vo. s. the story of the guides. by colonel g. j. younghusband, c.b., queen's own corps of guides. with illustrations. vo. s. d. net. a history of the indian mutiny. by t. rice holmes, m.a. extra crown vo. s. d. india: its administration and progress. by sir john strachey, g.c.s.i. vo. s. net. impressions of india. by sir h. craik, k.c.b., m.p. crown vo. s. net. india: its life and thought. by john p. jones, d.d., illustrated. vo. s. d. net. life of the marquis of dalhousie. with portraits, map, and plans. by sir w. lee-warner. vols. vo. s. net. cawnpore. by the right hon. sir g. o. trevelyan, bart. crown vo. s. d. net. the campaign in tirah, - . an account of the expedition under general sir william lockhart. based (by permission) on letters contributed to _the times_ by colonel h. d. hutchinson. with maps, plans, and illustrations. vo. s. d. net. relief of chitral. by captain g. j. younghusband and captain francis younghusband. vo. s. d. net. the protected princes of india. by sir william lee-warner. vo. s. d. macmillan and co., ltd., london. books on burma, china, & japan by h. fielding hall the soul of a people. an account of the life and belief of the burmese. extra crown vo. s. d. net. the inward light. vo. s. net. a people at school. vo. s. net. * * * * * the burman: his life and notions. by shway yoe. third edition. vo. by b. l. putnam weale. manchu and muscovite. illustrated. vo. s. net. the re-shaping of the far east. illustrated. vols. vo. s. net. the truce in the east and its aftermath. illustrated. vo. s. d. net. the coming struggle in eastern asia. illustrated. vo. s. d. net. * * * * * china and the chinese. by professor herbert allen giles, ll.d. globe vo. s. net. the far eastern question. by valentine chirol. with illustrations. vo. s. d. net. japan: an attempt at interpretation. by lafcadio hearn. extra crown vo. s. d. net. the garter mission to japan. by lord redesdale, g.c.v.o., k.c.b. extra crown vo. s. macmillan and co., ltd., london. [illustration] the macmillan company new york · boston · chicago atlanta · san francisco macmillan & co., limited london · bombay · calcutta melbourne the macmillan co. of canada, ltd. toronto [illustration: . lord minto, viceroy of india. _frontispiece_] trans-himalaya discoveries and adventures in tibet by sven hedin with illustrations from photographs, water-colour sketches, and drawings by the author and maps in two volumes vol. i new york the macmillan company _all rights reserved_ copyright, , by the macmillan company. * * * * * set up and electrotyped. published december, . norwood press j. s. cushing co.--berwick & smith co. norwood, mass., u.s.a. to his excellency the earl of minto viceroy of india with gratitude and admiration from the author preface in the first place i desire to pay homage to the memory of my patron, king oskar of sweden, by a few words of gratitude. the late king showed as warm and intelligent an interest in my plan for a new expedition as he had on former occasions, and assisted in the fulfilment of my project with much increased liberality. i estimated the cost of the journey at , kronor (about £ ), and this sum was subscribed within a week by my old friend emmanuel nobel, and my patrons, frederik löwenadler, oscar ekman, robert dickson, william olsson, and henry ruffer, banker in london. i cannot adequately express my thanks to these gentlemen. in consequence of the political difficulties i encountered in india, which forced me to make wide detours, the expenses were increased by about , kronor (£ ), but this sum i was able to draw from my own resources. as on former occasions, i have this time also to thank dr. nils ekholm for his great kindness in working out the absolute heights. the three lithographic maps have been compiled from my original sheets with painstaking care by lieutenant c. j. otto kjellström, who devoted all his furlough to this troublesome work. the astronomical points, nearly one hundred, have been calculated by the assistant roth of the stockholm observatory; a few points, which appeared doubtful, were omitted in drawing the route on the map, which is based on points previously determined. the map illustrating my narrative in the _geographical journal_, april , i drew roughly from memory without consulting the original sheets, for i had no time to spare; the errors which naturally crept in have been corrected on the new maps, but i wish to state here the cause of the discrepancy. the final maps, which i hope to publish in a voluminous scientific work, will be distinguished by still greater accuracy and detail. i claim not the slightest artistic merit for my drawings, and my water-colours are extremely defective both in drawing and colouring. one of the pictures, the lama opening the door of the mausoleum, i left unfinished in my haste; it has been thrown in with the others, with the wall-paintings and shading incomplete. to criticize these slight attempts as works of art would be like wasting gunpowder on dead crows. for the sake of variety several illustrations have been drawn by the british artists de haenen and t. macfarlane, but it must not be assumed that these are fanciful productions. every one of them is based on outline drawings by myself, a number of photographs, and a full description of the scene. de haenen's illustrations appeared in the london _graphic_, and were ordered when i was still in india. macfarlane's drawings were executed this summer, and i was able to inspect his designs and approve of them before they were worked up. as to the text, i have endeavoured to depict the events of the journey as far as the limited space permitted, but i have also imprudently allowed myself to touch on subjects with which i am not at all familiar--i allude in particular to lamaism. it has been unfortunate that i had to write the whole book in days, during which many hours were taken up with work connected with the maps and illustrations and by an extensive correspondence with foreign publishers, especially albert brockhaus of leipzig, who never wearied in giving me excellent advice. the whole work has been hurried, and the book from beginning to end is like a vessel which ventures out into the ocean of the world's tumult and of criticism with many leaks and cracks. my thanks are also due to my father, who made a clean copy from my illegible manuscript; and to my mother, who has saved me from many mistakes. dr. carl forstrand has revised both the manuscript and the proof-sheets, and has compiled the swedish index. * * * * * the seven and thirty asiatics who followed me faithfully through tibet, and contributed in no small degree to the successful issue and results of the expedition, have had the honour of receiving from his majesty the king of sweden gold and silver medals bearing the portrait of the king, a crown, and an inscription. i humbly beg his majesty to accept my warmest and most sincere thanks for his great generosity. the book is dedicated to lord minto, as a slight testimony of my gratitude for all his kindness and hospitality. it had been lord minto's intention to further my plans as lord curzon would have done if he had still been viceroy of india, but political considerations prevented him. when, however, i was actually in tibet, the viceroy was free to use his influence with the tashi lama, and the consequence was that many doors in the forbidden land, formerly tightly closed, were opened to me. dear reminiscences of india hovered about my lonesome years in dreary tibet like the pleasant rustling of palm leaves. it will suffice to mention men like lord kitchener, in whose house i spent a week never to be forgotten; colonel dunlop smith, who took charge of my notes and maps and sent them home, and also forwarded a whole caravan of necessaries to gartok; younghusband, patterson, ryder, rawling, and many others. and, lastly, colonel longe, surveyor-general, and colonel burrard, of the survey of india, who, with the greatest kindness, had my map-sheets of tibet photographed, and stored the negatives among their records in case the originals should be lost, and who, after i had placed my map-sheets of persia at the disposal of the indian government, had them worked up in the north-western frontier drawing office and combined into a fine map of eleven printed sheets--a map which is to be treated as "confidential" until my scientific works have appeared. it is with the greatest pleasure that i avail myself of this opportunity of expressing my sincere gratitude for all the innumerable tokens of sympathy and appreciation which i received in all parts of the united kingdom, and for all the honours conferred on me by societies, and the warm welcome i met with from the audiences i had the pleasure of addressing. i shall always cherish a proud and happy remembrance of the two months which it was my good-fortune to spend in the british isles; and the kindness then showered upon me was the more delightful because it was extended also to two of my sisters, who accompanied me. were i to mention all the ladies and gentlemen to whom i am especially indebted, i could fill several pages. but i cannot let this book go forth through the english-speaking world without expressing my sincere gratitude to lord curzon for the great and encouraging interest he has always taken in myself and my journeys; to lord morley for the brilliant speech he delivered after my first lecture--the most graceful compliment ever paid me, as well as for many other marks of kindness and sympathy shown to me by the secretary of state for india; to the swedish minister in london, count herman wrangel, for all the valuable services he rendered me during and after my journey; to major leonard darwin and the council and members of the royal geographical society, to whom i was delighted to return, not as a strange guest, but as an old friend; to the famous and illustrious universities of oxford and cambridge, where i was overwhelmed with exceptional honours and boundless hospitality; to the royal scottish geographical society, where twice before i had received a warm reception. well, when i think of those charming days in england and scotland i am inclined to dwell too long upon them, and i must hasten to a conclusion. but there is one more name, which i have left to the last, because it has been very dear to me for many years, that of dr. j. scott keltie. the general public will never know what it means to be the secretary and mainspring of the royal geographical society, to work year after year in that important office in savile row, to receive explorers from all corners of the world and satisfy all their demands, without ever losing patience or ever hearing a word of thanks. i can conceive from my own experience how much trouble i have caused dr. keltie, but yet he has always met me with the same amiability and has always been a constant friend, whether i have been at home or away for years on long journeys. dr. m. a. stein started and returned from his splendid journey in central asia at the same times as myself. we crossed different parts of the old continent, but we have several interests in common, and i am glad to congratulate dr. stein most heartily on his important discoveries and the brilliant results he has brought back. it is my intention to collect in a third volume all the material for which there is no room in _trans-himalaya_. for instance, i have been obliged to omit a description of the march northwards from the source of the indus and of the journey over the trans-himalaya to gartok, as well as of the road from gartok to ladak, and the very interesting route from the nganglaring-tso to simla. i have also had to postpone the description of several monasteries to a later opportunity. in this future book i will also record my recollections of beautiful, charming japan, where i gained so many friends, and of korea, manchuria, and port arthur. the manuscript of this later volume is already finished, and i long for the opportunity of publicly thanking the japanese, as well as our representative in japan and china, the minister extraordinary, wallenberg, for all the delightful hospitality and all the honours showered down on me in the land of the rising sun. lastly, the appetite of young people for adventures will be satisfied in an especial work. i am glad to be able to announce at the eleventh hour that the madrassi manuel, who in chapter ix. was reported lost, has at length been found again. in conclusion, i must say a few words of thanks to my publishers, and first of all to herre k. o. bonnier of stockholm, for his valuable co-operation and the elegant form in which he has produced my book, and then to the firm of f. a. brockhaus, leipzig; the "elsevier" uitgevers maatschappij, amsterdam; hachette & c^ie, paris; "kansa," suomalainen kustannus-o-y, helsingfors; the robert lampel buchhandlung (f. wodianer & söhne) act.-ges., budapest; macmillan & co., ltd., london and new york; j. otto, prague; fratelli treves, milan. sven hedin. stockholm, _september_, . contents chapter i page simla chapter ii departure from srinagar chapter iii the road to leh chapter iv the last preparations chapter v the start for tibet chapter vi to the edge of the tibetan tableland chapter vii over the crest of the karakorum chapter viii to lake lighten chapter ix on the lake in a storm chapter x death in the jaws of wolves--or shipwreck chapter xi great losses chapter xii in unknown country chapter xiii unfortunate days chapter xiv in the land of the wild yak chapter xv the first nomads chapter xvi our fortunes on the way to the bogtsang-tsangpo chapter xvii christmas in the wilds chapter xviii ten days on the ice of ngangtse-tso chapter xix driven back chapter xx onwards through the forbidden land chapter xxi over the trans-himalaya chapter xxii to the bank of the brahmaputra chapter xxiii down the tsangpo by boat--entry into shigatse chapter xxiv the new year festival chapter xxv the tashi lama chapter xxvi the graves of the pontiffs chapter xxvii popular amusements of the tibetans chapter xxviii monks and pilgrims chapter xxix walks in tashi-lunpo--the disposal of the dead chapter xxx our life in shigatse chapter xxxi political complications chapter xxxii tarting-gompa and tashi-gembe chapter xxxiii the raga-tsangpo and the my-chu chapter xxxiv to linga-gompa illustrations page . lord minto, viceroy of india _frontispiece_ . colonel sir francis younghusband, commander of the english expedition to tibet, resident in kashmir . colonel j. r. dunlop smith, private secretary to the viceroy . viceregal lodge in simla . lady minto and the author on the terrace of the viceregal lodge . herbert, viscount kitchener of khartum, late commander-in-chief of the indian army . the maharaja of jammu and kashmir . palace of h.h. the maharaja of kashmir in srinagar . the jhelam in srinagar . the start from ganderbal . my escort . my three puppies . robert, the eurasian . ganpat sing, the rajput . manuel, the cook . in front of nedou's hotel in srinagar . some of our mules . an amateur photographer photographed . the road to baltal . kargil . chhorten in lamayuru . church music in lamayuru . portrait of a lama . portrait of a lama . the sumto valley . bridge of alchi . girl in niemo , . palace of the kings of ladak in leh . muhamed isa . guffaru . the raja of stok . portal of the palace in leh . view over the indus valley from the roof of the palace in leh . lama of high rank in leh . monuments to stoliczka and dalgleish, leh . religious objects from sanskar . images of gods. a miniature chhorten on the right. holy books, temple vessels. on either side of the small altar-table wooden blocks with which the holy books are printed . tikze-gompa, monastery in ladak . masked lamas in the court of ceremonies in hemis-gompa (ladak) . group of masked lamas in hemis-gompa . from singrul, looking towards the pass, chang-la . view from sultak, august , . drugub . my old friend hiraman from ladak . chiefs of tankse and pobrang; muhamed isa, the caravan leader, in the background . the way to the marsimik-la . spanglung . spanglung . camp near pamzal . the chang-chenmo and the way to gogra . muhamed isa in the river chang-chenmo near pamzal . rabsang, adul, tsering, and muhamed isa . our horses at the karakorum . in the snow, n.e. of chang-lung-yogma . my tent . lake lighten a, b. pantholops antelope , . ovis ammon . a gully at camp (aksai-chin) . the hired ladakis and the provision sacks in north-west chang-tang . namgyal with a sack of yak-dung . shelter of provision sacks . camp in a narrow valley, camp . robert, muhamed isa, and two servants by a fire . the large piebald yarkand horse , . the slain yaks; tundup sonam, the hunter on the left in . rehim ali, one of my ladakis on the first crossing of tibet . starting on a voyage . in peril on lake lighten . the author and rehim ali pull the boat out of the waves up on to the shore . camp at the yeshil-kul . the pul-tso, looking east . horses and mules in open country . death in the jaws of wolves--or shipwreck . a dangerous situation on the yeshil-kul. in moonshine . at deasy's camp . afternoon tea in the open air . melting snow for drinking-water . preparations for dinner at camp . the author, robert, and rehim ali attacked by a wounded yak . rehim ali falls to the ground and thus rescues us from the furious yak , . the first tibetans . smoking camp-fires in the heart of chang-tang . our yaks, bought from the first tibetans . "where are you going?" they asked me . near the dangra-yum-tso , , . on the ngangtse-tso . in a snowstorm on the ice of the ngangtse-tso . hlaje tsering and his travelling companion, a lama, at my tent on the ngangtse-tso . servants of hlaje tsering . messenger with letters from home, and his travelling companion . hlaje tsering setting out . three tibetans saluting . pass of la-rock. _mani_ heap with fluttering prayer-streamers . on the bank of the tsangpo (brahmaputra) . the tsangpo with floating ice . the valley of the tsangpo above shigatse . house in the village of rungma . garden of the tashi lama in the village of tanak . ferry-boats . pilgrims on the way to tashi-lunpo . court of religious ceremonies in tashi-lunpo . religious decorations on the roofs of tashi-lunpo to exorcise evil spirits . the upper balcony of the court of ceremonies in tashi-lunpo , . the _profanum vulgus_ at the new year festival in shigatse . lama with shell-trumpet . lama with flute used in religious services , , . lamas in dancing masks . view of tashi-lunpo . street in tashi-lunpo, with lamas . street in tashi-lunpo . the labrang, the palace of the tashi lama . interior of the palace of the tashi lama . view of a part of tashi-lunpo, with the façade of a mausoleum of a grand lama . façade of the mausoleum of the first tashi lama. the court of ceremonies in the foreground , . interiors of two mausoleums of grand lamas in tashi-lunpo . the kanjur-lhakang in tashi-lunpo . portal of the mausoleum of the third tashi lama in tashi-lunpo . the namgyal-lhakang with the figure of tsong kapa, in tashi-lunpo _coloured_ . reading lama with dorche (thunderbolt) and drilbu (prayer-bell) . lama with prayer-drum . entrance to the tomb of the fifth tashi lama in tashi-lunpo _coloured_ . staircase to the mausoleum of the fifth tashi lama in tashi-lunpo . shigatse-dzong (the fortress) . shigatse, capital of the province of chang ( , feet) . chinese new year festival in my garden . some of the members in the shooting competition at the new year festival . popular diversion in shigatse . nepalese performing symbolical dances at the new year festival . dancing nepalese at the new year festival, tashi-lunpo . the kitchen in tashi-lunpo . colonnade in tashi-lunpo . lamas drinking tea in the court of ceremonies in tashi-lunpo . part of shigatse . the tashi lama returning to the labrang after a ceremony . the panchen rinpoche, or tashi lama . portrait of the tashi lama . lamas with copper tea-pots . female pilgrim from nam-tso and mendicant lama . the great red gallery of tashi-lunpo . chhorten in tashi-lunpo . portal in tashi-lunpo . group of lamas in tashi-lunpo . lecture in tashi-lunpo . female pilgrims from the nam-tso . tibetans in shigatse , , . tibetan girl and women in shigatse . a chinaman in shigatse . a tibetan in shigatse . a lama in tashi-lunpo . door-keeper in tsong kapa's temple . dancing boys with drums . wandering nun with a tanka depicting a religious legend and singing the explanation. (in our garden at shigatse.) . gandän-chöding-gompa, a nunnery in ye . duke kung gushuk, brother of the tashi lama . the little brother of the tashi lama, the wife of kung gushuk, and her five servants . the little brother of his holiness with a servant . the author drawing the duchess kung gushuk . major w. f. o'connor, british trade agent in gyangtse, now consul in seistan . captain c. g. rawling , . tarting-gompa . linga-gompa . lung-ganden-gompa near tong . inscription and figure of buddha carved in granite near the village of lingö . tarting-gompa . sego-chummo lhakang in tarting-gompa . bridge to the monastery pinzoling (on the right) . group of tibetans in the village of tong . inhabitants of the village of govo . lama in tong . old tibetan . strolling musicians . the handsome woman, putön . on the my-chu near linga . village and monastery of linga maps . the latest map of tibet. . carte générale du thibet ou bout-tan. . map of southern tibet (hodgson). . the source-region of the brahmaputra (nain sing). . sketch-map of webber's route in . . saunders' map of south tibet. . the source-region of the brahmaputra (ryder). (_at end of volume._) chapter i simla in the spring of the year my mind was much occupied with thoughts of a new journey to tibet. three years had passed since my return to my own country; my study began to be too small for me; at eventide, when all around was quiet, i seemed to hear in the sough of the wind a voice admonishing me to "come back again to the silence of the wilderness"; and when i awoke in the morning i involuntarily listened for caravan bells outside. so the time passed till my plans were ripened and my fate was soon decided; i must return to the freedom of the desert and hie away to the broad plains between the snow-clad mountains of tibet. not to listen to this secret voice when it speaks strongly and clearly means deterioration and ruin; one must resign oneself to the guidance of this invisible hand, have faith in its divine origin and in oneself, and submit to the gnawing pain which another departure from home, for so long a time and with the future uncertain, brings with it. in the concluding lines of my scientific work on the results of my former journey (_scientific results_) i spoke of the impossibility of giving a complete description of the internal structure of tibet, its mountains and valleys, its rivers and lakes, while so large a part of the country was still quite unknown. "under these circumstances," i said (vol. iv. p. ), "i prefer to postpone the completion of such a monograph till my return from the journey on which i am about to start." instead of losing myself in conjectures or arriving at confused results owing to lack of material, i would rather see with my own eyes the unknown districts in the midst of northern tibet, and, above all, visit the extensive areas of entirely unexplored country which stretches to the north of the upper brahmaputra and has not been traversed by europeans or indian pundits. thus much was _à priori_ certain, that this region presented the grandest problems which remained still unsolved in the physical geography of asia. there must exist one or more mountain systems running parallel with the himalayas and the karakorum range; there must be found peaks and ridges on which the eye of the explorer had never lighted; turquoise-blue salt lakes in valleys and hollows reflect the restless passage of the monsoon clouds north-eastwards, and from their southern margins voluminous rivers must flow down, sometimes turbulent, sometimes smooth. there, no doubt, were nomad tribes, who left their winter pastures in spring, and during the summer wandered about on the higher plains when the new grass had sprung up from the poor soil. but whether a settled population dwelt there, whether there were monasteries, where a lama, punctual as the sun, gave the daily summons to prayer from the roof by blowing through a shell,--that no one knew. tibetan literature, old and recent, was searched in vain for information; nothing could be found but fanciful conjectures about the existence of a mighty chain, which were of no value as they did not accord with the reality and were not based on any actual facts. on the other hand, a few travellers had skirted the unknown country on the north and south, east and west, myself among the number. looking at a map, which shows the routes of travellers in tibet, one might almost suppose that we had purposely avoided the great white patch bearing on the recently published english map only the word "unexplored." hence it might be concluded that it would be no easy feat to cross this tract, or otherwise some one would ere now have strayed into it. in my book _central asia and tibet_ i have fully described the desperate attempts i made in the autumn and winter of to advance southwards from my route between the zilling-tso and the pangong-tso. one of my aims was to find an opportunity of visiting one or more of the great lakes in central tibet which the indian pundit, nain sing, discovered in , and which since then had never been seen except by the natives. during my former journey i had dreamt of discovering the source of the indus, but it was not then my good fortune to reach it. this mysterious spot had never been inserted in its proper place on the map of asia--but it must exist somewhere. since the day when the great macedonian alexander (in the year b.c.) crossed the mighty stream with his victorious host, the question of the situation of this spot has always stood in the order of the day of geographical exploration. it was both impossible and unnecessary to draw up beforehand a complete plan of a journey of which the course and conclusion were more than usually uncertain, and depended on circumstances quite beyond my control. i did, indeed, draw on a map of tibet the probable route of my journey, that my parents and sisters might know roughly whereabouts i should be. if this map be compared with my actual route it will be seen that in both cases the districts visited are the same, but the course and details are totally different. in the meantime i wrote to lord curzon, then viceroy of india, informed him of my plan, and begged for all the assistance that seemed to me necessary for a successful journey in disturbed tibet, so lately in a state of war. soon after i received the following letter, which i reproduce here with the consent of the writer: viceregal lodge, simla, _july , _. my dear dr. hedin--i am very glad that you propose to act upon my advice, and to make one more big central asian journey before you desist from your wonderful travels. i shall be proud to render you what assistance lies in my power while i still remain in india, and only regret that long before your great expedition is over i shall have left these shores. for it is my intention to depart in april . now as regards your plan. i gather that you will not be in india before next spring, when perhaps i may still see you. i will arrange to have a good native surveyor ready to accompany you, and i will further have a man instructed in astronomical observations and in meteorological recording--so as to be available for you at the same time. i cannot say what the attitude of the tibetan government will be at the time that you reach india. but if they continue friendly, we will of course endeavour to secure for you the requisite permits and protections. assuring you that it will give me the greatest pleasure in any way to further your plans,--i am yours sincerely, curzon. it may easily be conceived how important this active protection and help on the part of the viceroy was to me. i was especially pleased that i was allowed to take with me native topographers experienced in survey work, for with their co-operation the maps to be compiled would be far more valuable, while, released from this complicated work which takes up so much time, i could devote myself entirely to researches in physical geography. with this kind letter at starting i commenced my fifth journey to asia. lord curzon had, indeed, when i reached india, already left his post, and a new government was shortly to take the helm in england with sir henry campbell-bannerman as premier. but lord curzon's promises were the words of a cæsar, and i had not the slightest doubt that a liberal government would respect them. on october , , the same day on which i had started twelve years before on my journey through asia, i again left my dear old home in stockholm. this time it seemed far more uncertain whether i should see all my dear ones again; sometime or other the chain that binds us must be broken. would it be granted me to find once more my home unchanged? i travelled viâ constantinople and the black sea, through turkish armenia, across persia to seistan, and through the deserts of baluchistan to nushki, where i reached the most western offshoot of the indian railway system. after the dust and heat of baluchistan, quetta seemed to me a fine fresh oasis. i left this town on may , , descended in four hours from a height of feet to a country lying only feet above sea-level, and found in sibi a temperature of ° f. in the evening. next day i passed along the indus and sutlej through samasata and batinda to ambala, and i was now, in the hottest part of the year, the only european in the train. the temperature rose to °, the height i had shortly before recorded in baluchistan, but it was much more endurable in the shady carriage, which was protected by a roof and hanging screens from the direct heat of the sun; it was well, however, to avoid touching the outside of the carriage, for it was burning hot. two window openings are covered with a tissue of root-fibres which are automatically kept moist, and a wind-catcher sends a draught into the carriage through the wet matting. at a window like this the temperature even at noon was only ½°, and therefore i had nothing to complain of. at some stations there are excellent restaurants, and natives travelling on the train sell on the way lemonade and ice as clear as glass. nevertheless in india's sultry dried-up plains one longs for the mountains with their pure cool air. from kalka a small narrow-gauge railway carries one in ½ hours to a height of feet, and one finds oneself in simla, the summer residence of the viceroy and the headquarters of the indian army. the road is one of the most charming and magnificent in the world. the little railway climbs up the steep flanks in the boldest curves, descends the slopes into deep and narrow ravines, passes along steep mountain spurs, where the train seems as though it would plunge into space from the extreme point; then the train crosses bridges which groan and tremble under its weight, enters pitch-dark tunnels, and again emerges into the blinding sunshine. now we run along a valley, catching a glimpse of the bottom far below us, then mount upwards to a ridge affording an extensive view on both sides, then again traverse a steep slope where several sections of the marvellously winding line can be seen below. the scene changes every other minute, new contours and landscapes present themselves, new points of view and lights and shades follow one another, and keep the attention of the traveller on the stretch. there are tunnels on the route, most of them quite short, but the longest has a length of three-quarters of a mile. we pass through one zone of vegetation after another. the flora of the plain is left far behind; now the eye notices new forms in new zones--forms characteristic of the various heights of the southern slopes of the himalayas--and at last appear the dark deodar forests, the royal himalayan cedars, with their luxuriant green foliage, amidst which are embedded the houses of simla like swallows' nests. how fascinating is this sight, but how much more imposing as a symbol of the power of the british empire! here the eagle has its eyry, and from its point of vantage casts its keen eyes over the plains of india. here converge innumerable telegraph wires from all the corners and extremities of the british empire, and from this centre numerous orders and instructions are daily despatched "on his majesty's service only"; here the administration is carried on and the army controlled, and a host of maharajas are entangled in the meshes like the prey in the nest of a spider. i approached simla with some anxiety. since lord curzon's letter i had heard nothing more from the authorities in india. the singular town on its crescent-shaped ridge appears larger and larger, details become clearer and clearer, there remain only a couple of curves to pass, and then the train rolls into the station at simla. two servants from the foreign office, in scarlet liveries, took possession of my luggage, and i was welcomed in the grand hotel by my old friend colonel sir francis younghusband--we kept christmas together in kashgar in , and he was just as friendly and pleasant as then. i was his guest at dinner in the united service club. during half the night we revelled in old reminiscences of the heart of asia, spoke of the powerful russian consul-general, petrovski, in kashgar, of the english expedition to lhasa, which was led by younghusband, of life in simla and the coming festivities in the summer season--but of my prospects my friend did not utter a word! and i did not ask him; i could believe that if everything had been plain and straightforward he would have told me at once. but he was silent as the grave, and i would not question him, though i was burning with impatience to learn something or other. when i went out on to my balcony on the morning of may , i felt like a prisoner awaiting his sentence. below me the roofs of simla glittered in the sunshine, and i stood on a level with the tops of the cedars; how delightful it was here far above the heavy sultry air of the plain. to the north, through a gap in the luxuriant woods, appeared a scene of incomparable beauty. there gleamed the nearest ranges of the himalayas covered with eternal snow. the crest shone white against the turquoise-blue sky. the air was so clear that the distance seemed insignificant; only a few days' journey separated me from these mountains, and behind them lay mysterious tibet, the forbidden land, the land of my dreams. later on, towards mid-day, the air became hazy and the glorious view vanished, nor was it again visible during the few weeks i spent in simla. it seemed as though a curtain had fallen between me and tibet, and as though it had been vouchsafed to me to see only once from a distance the mountains over which the road led into the land of promise. it was a sad day; at twelve o'clock i was to hear my sentence. younghusband came for me and we went together to the foreign secretary's office. sir louis dane received me with great amiability, and we talked of persia and the trade route between india and seistan. suddenly he became silent, and then said after a pause: "it is better you should know at once; the government in london refuses you permission to pass into tibet across the indian frontier." "sad news! but why is this?" "that i do not know; probably because the present government wishes to avoid everything which may give rise to friction on the frontier; the granting of your request throws responsibility on us should anything happen to you. yes, it is a pity. what do you think of doing now?" "if i had had any suspicion of this in teheran, i would have taken my way through russian asia, for i have never met with any difficulties from the russians." "well, we have done out here all we could to forward your plans. the three native surveyors lord curzon promised you have been trained for six months, and hold themselves in readiness at dehra dun. but probably this too will be countermanded from london. still, we have not yet given up all hope, and we expect the final answer on june ." to have to wait eleven days for the final decision was unbearable. perhaps a personal application might have a favourable effect. i therefore sent the following telegram to the english prime minister: the friendly words, in which your excellence referred two years ago in parliament to my journey and my book, encourage me to apply direct to you, and to beg you in the interests of geographical science to grant me the permission of your government to pass into tibet by way of simla and gartok. i propose to explore the region, mostly uninhabited, to the north of the tsangpo, and the lakes lying in it, and then to return to india. i am thoroughly acquainted with the present political relations between india and tibet, and as i have held peaceful intercourse with asiatics since my twenty-first year, i shall also this time behave with circumspection, follow the instructions i am given, and consider it a point of honour to avoid all disputes on the frontier. and now we waited again; the days passed, my three native assistants held themselves ready in dehra dun for the journey, the commander-in-chief, lord kitchener, assured me that he should be pleased to place at my disposal twenty armed gurkhas--only the permission sought from the secretary of state for india, mr. john morley, must first arrive; for it was he who held the keys of the frontier, and on him everything depended. lord minto, the new viceroy of india (frontispiece), did everything in his power. he wrote long complete statements of affairs and sent one telegram after another. a refusal could not discourage him; he always sent off another despatch beginning with the words: "i beg his majesty's ministry to take once more into consideration that," etc. when the assurance was given from london that the refusal was not intended for me personally, but that the same answer had been communicated to several british officers, lord minto in his last telegram begged that i might be permitted to accompany the british officer who was to travel to gartok in summer to inspect the market there. but the secretary of state kept immovably to his resolution, and i received the following reply to my telegram in a despatch of june , , from the secretary to the viceroy: the prime minister desires that the following message be communicated to sven hedin: "i sincerely regret that i cannot, for reasons which have doubtless been explained to you by the indian government, grant you the desired assistance for your journey to and in tibet. this assistance has also been refused to the royal geographical society in london, and likewise to british officers in the service of the indian government." the contents of the last london telegram intimated, then, that nothing was conceded to me. the indian government and the viceroy could, of course, do nothing but obey, as usual, the orders from london. they were willing to do everything, and displayed the warmest interest in my plans, but they durst not help me. they durst not procure me a permit or passport from lhasa, they durst not provide me with an escort, indispensable in the insecure country of tibet, and i lost the privilege of taking with me three efficient topographers and assistants in my scientific observations, from which both sides would have derived advantage. but this was not all. should i fall in with circumstances and cross the frontier with a party of natives on my own responsibility, the indian government had orders to stop me. thus tibet was barred to me from the side of india, and the english, that is, mr. john morley, closed the country as hermetically as ever the tibetans had done. i soon perceived that the greatest difficulties i had to overcome on this journey proceeded not from tibet, its rude climate, its rarefied air, its huge mountains and its wild inhabitants, but--from england! could i circumvent mr. john morley, i should soon settle with tibet. hope is the last thing one resigns, and so i still hoped that all would turn out well in the end. failure spurred my ambition and stretched my powers to the uttermost tension. try to hinder me if you can, i thought; i will show you that i am more at home in asia than you. try to close this immense tibet, try to bar all the valleys which lead from the frontier to the high plateaus, and you will find that it is quite impossible. i felt quite relieved when the last peremptory and somewhat curt refusal came and put an end to all further negotiations. i had a feeling as though i was suddenly left in solitude and the future depended on myself alone. my life and my honour for the next two years were at stake--of course i never thought of giving in. i had commenced this fifth journey with a heavy heart, not with trumpets and flourishes as on the former expeditions. but now it was all at once become my pet child. though i should perish, this journey should be the grandest event of my life. it was the object of all my dreams and hopes, it was the subject of my prayers, and i longed with all my soul for the hour when the first caravan should be ready--and then every day would be a full chord in a song of victory. [illustration: . colonel sir francis younghusband, commander of the english expedition to tibet, resident in kashmir.] [illustration: . colonel j. r. dunlop smith, private secretary to the viceroy.] i do not venture to pass an opinion on the policy which then piled up in my way obstacles apparently insurmountable. it was at any rate prudent. for the future it will be necessary. if i had gone under british protection and accompanied by british subjects and then been killed, probably a costly punitive expedition must have been sent out to make an example; whether i were a swede or an englishman would have made no difference in this case. the view the english secretary of state took of the matter is shown in his answer to lord percy's question a month after i had received my answer: "sven hedin has been refused permission to penetrate into tibet for political reasons, in accordance with which even british subjects are not allowed to visit that country. the indian government favours the expeditions of experienced explorers, but the imperial government has decided otherwise, and considers it advisable to continue the isolation of tibet which the late government so carefully maintained." during this time i received many proofs of sympathy and friendship. i had true friends in india, and they felt it hard that they could not help me. they would have done it so gladly. i durst not ask them for anything lest i should place them in an awkward, troublesome position. sir louis dane had informed me that if my petition were granted i should have to sign a bond, but what this would have contained i have never found out. perhaps it dealt with some kind of responsibility for the men who accompanied me, or a promise not to visit certain districts, and a pledge to place the results of my journey at the disposal of the indian government--i know not. but now i was absolved from all obligations; freedom is after all the best, and he is the strongest who stands alone. still, it would be exaggeration to say that i had then any great affection for the name of mr. john morley. how could i foresee that i should one day reckon him among my best friends, and think of him with warm respect and admiration? after my first visit to the foreign office, younghusband (illustration ) conducted me to the viceregal palace, to enter my name in the visiting list of lord and lady minto. younghusband is a gallant man, a type of the noblest that a people can produce. he was more annoyed than myself at the refusal of the government; but he had in this connection a far more bitter experience--his expedition to lhasa, which ought to have thrown open tibet to scientific exploration, had been in vain. he took me on the way to lord minto's private secretary, colonel j. r. dunlop smith (illustration ), in whom i found a friend for life. he is one of the finest, noblest, most generous, and learned men that i have ever met. he is well educated in many subjects, and has a thorough knowledge of india, for he has lived there four-and-twenty years. when we see such men in the most responsible posts, we can well conceive that the ruling race will weather many a violent storm, should they arise, among the three hundred millions of india. my life at this time abounded in contrasts. how little did my sojourn at simla resemble the years of solitude and silence that awaited me beyond the mountains veiled in dark masses of cloud! i cannot resist recalling some reminiscences of these extraordinarily delightful days. go with me to the first state dinner on may , . along the walls of the great drawing-room in the viceregal palace are assembled some hundred guests--all in full dress, in grand uniforms of various colours, and glittering with orders. one of them is taller than the rest by a whole head; he holds himself very upright, and seems cool-headed, energetic, and calm; he speaks to no one, but examines those about him with penetrating, bright bluish-grey eyes. his features are heavy, but interesting, serious, impassive, and tanned; one sees that he has had much experience and is a soldier who has stood fire. his uniform is scarlet, and a whole fortune in diamonds sparkles on his left breast. he bears a world-renowned, an imperishable name: lord kitchener of khartum, the conqueror of africa and commander-in-chief of the indian army. [illustration: . viceregal lodge in simla.] a gentleman comes up to me and asks if i remember our having sat together at a banquet of lord curzon's. the lieutenant-governor of the punjab is also one of my old acquaintances, and sir louis dane introduces me right and left. a herald enters the room and announces the approach of the viceroy, and lord minto, accompanied by his staff, makes the round of the room, greeting each one of his guests, myself only with the words, "welcome to simla." the melancholy tone of the words did not escape me; he knew well that i did not feel as welcome as he and i should have wished. to the sound of music we move to the dining-room, are regaled with choice french dishes, eat off silver plate, and then rise again to take part in the levée, at which five hundred gentlemen are presented to the viceroy, who stands at the steps of the throne. their names are called out one by one as they pass rapidly in front of the throne. each one halts and turns to the viceroy, who returns his deep reverence: he bowed this evening nine hundred times! when indian princes or afghan ambassadors pass before him, he does not bow, but lays his hand on the hilt of his guest's sword as a sign of friendship and peace. next day i was invited to transfer my quarters to the palace (illustration ), and henceforth i was the guest of lord and lady minto. the time i spent with them i shall never forget, and these weeks seem to me now like a dream or a fairy tale. lord minto is an ideal british gentleman, an aristocrat of the noblest race, and yet simple and modest. in india he soon became popular owing to his affability and kindness, and he does not think he occupies so high a position that he cannot speak a friendly word to any man out of the numerous tribes of the immense empire committed to his rule. lord minto formerly served in india, and took part in the campaign against afghanistan; after various experiences in three continents he was appointed governor-general of canada. in he returned to his estate of minto in scotland, intending to spend the remainder of his life there; then the king of england and emperor of india invested him with the office of viceroy and governor-general of india. he is not the first earl of minto who has held this post, for his great-grandfather was governor-general of the british possessions in the indian peninsula a hundred years ago. then one had to sail round the cape of good hope in order to reach the country of the hindus, a long, troublesome voyage. therefore the first lord minto left his family at home. the letters exchanged between himself and his wife are still extant, and display an affection and faithfulness quite ideal. when his period of service in india had at length expired, he embarked on a vessel which carried him over the long way to his native land, and he hurried with the first coach straight to minto. there his wife expected him; she looked along the road with longing eyes; the appointed time had long passed, and no carriage could be seen. at length a rider appeared in a cloud of dust, and brought the news that lord minto had died only one post stage from his house. a small label on the packet of letters bears the words "poor fools." they were written by the first lady minto. but now a new minto family has blossomed into life. comfort, simplicity, and happiness prevail in this charming home, where every member contributes to the beauty of the whole. a viceroy is always overwhelmed with work for the welfare of india, but lord minto preserved an unalterable composure, and devoted several hours daily to his family. we met at meals; some guests were usually invited to lunch, but at dinner we were frequently alone, and then the time passed most agreeably. then lady minto told of her sojourn in canada, where she travelled , miles by rail and steamer, accompanied her husband on his official tours and on sporting expeditions, shot foaming rapids in a canoe, and took part in dangerous excursions in klondike. we looked over her diaries of that time; they consisted of thick volumes full of photographs, maps, cuttings, and autographs, and were interspersed with views and descriptions of singular interest. and yet the diary that lady minto had kept since her arrival in india was still more remarkable and attractive, for it was set in oriental splendour and the pomp and gorgeousness of eastern lands, was filled with maharajas bedecked with jewels, receptions in various states, processions and parades, elephants in red and gold, and all the grandeur and brilliancy inseparable from the court of an indian viceroy. three charming young daughters--the ladies eileen, ruby, and violet--fill this home with sunshine and cheerfulness, and, with their mother, are the queens of the balls and brilliant fêtes. like their father, they are fond of sport, and ride like valkyries. [illustration: . lady minto and the author on the terrace of the viceregal lodge.] is it to be wondered at that a stranger feels happy in this house, where he is surrounded daily with kindness and hospitality? my room was over the private apartments of the viceroy. on the ground-floor are state rooms, the large and elegant drawing-rooms, the dining-room, and the great ball-room decorated in white and gold. the various rooms and saloons are reached from a large antechamber adorned with arms and heavy hangings; here there is a very lively scene during entertainments. an open gallery, a stone verandah, runs round most of the ground-floor, where visitors, couriers, _chaprassis_, and _jamadars_, wearing red viceregal uniforms and white turbans, move to and fro. behind is the courtyard where carriages, rickshaws, and riders come and go, while well-kept paths lead to quiet terraces laid out from lady minto's designs. behind these terraces begins the forest with promenades in the shadow of the trees (illustration ). from the great hall in the middle of the house a staircase leads to the first storey, where the family of the viceroy occupy rooms which surpass all the rest in the tastefulness of their decoration. two flights up are the guest-rooms. from an inner gallery you can look down into the great hall, where the scarlet footmen glide noiselessly up and down the stairs. outside my window was a balcony, where every morning i looked in vain for a glimpse of the mountains on the borders of tibet. the highest official of peshawar, sir harold deane, with his wife, and the maharaja of idar, were guests in the palace of the viceroy for a couple of days. sir harold was a man one never forgets after once meeting him; strong, tall, manly, and amiable. the half-savage tribes and princes on the frontier of afghanistan fear and admire him, and he is said to manage them with masterly tact. this meeting was very important to me, for sir harold gave me letters of introduction to the maharaja of kashmir and his private secretary, daya kishen kaul. at my return to india, sir harold was, alas! dead. in him india has lost one of its best guardians. the maharaja of idar was a striking type of an indian prince: he had a very dark complexion, handsome features, and an energetic bearing; he dressed for entertainments in silk, gold, and jewels, and altogether made an appearance which threw all europeans quite into the shade. yet he was exceedingly popular with them, and always a welcome guest. he is a great sportsman, a first-rate rider, and an exceedingly cool-headed hunter. he owes his great popularity to the following incident: once when an english officer died in the hot season near his palace, there was difficulty in finding a man to bury the corpse. as every one else refused, the maharaja undertook the odious task himself. scarcely had he returned to his palace when the steps were stormed by raving brahmins, who cried out to him, with threats, that he had forfeited his rank, must be ejected from his caste, and was unworthy to have rule over the state. but he went calmly up to them and said that he knew only of one caste, that of warriors; then he ordered them to go away, and they obeyed. i met many men in simla whom i shall always count among my best friends--generals sir beauchamp duff and hawkes, with their amiable consorts, and colonel adam and his wife, who spoke russian; he was lord minto's military secretary, and died during my absence; also colonel m'swiney and his wife. i was their guest at bolaram, near haidarabad, in , and i had met the colonel in the pamirs in ; he, too, has been called away by death, only a month before he would have received his expected promotion to the command of the ambala brigade. he was an exceptionally excellent and amiable man. i also made acquaintance with many members of younghusband's lhasa expedition, one of whom, captain cecil rawling, ardently wished he could get back to tibet. we often met and concocted grand plans for a journey together to gartok--hopes which all ended in smoke. the german consul-general, count quadt, and his charming wife were also especial friends of mine. her mother belonged to the swedish family of wirsén, and we conversed in swedish. i shall never forget a dinner at their house. dunlop smith and i rode each in a rickshaw along the long road to simla, through the town and as far again on the other side, to count quadt's house, which was the viceregal residence before lord dufferin built the new palace, the "viceregal lodge," in the years - . the road was dark, but we had lamps on the shafts; our runners strained at the carriage like straps, and their naked soles pattered like wood on the hard earth. we were late; lord kitchener was there already, and every one was waiting. after dinner the guests were invited to go out into the compound forming the summit of the hill on which the old palace is built. the light of the full moon quivered through the mild intoxicating air, the hills around were veiled in mist and haze, and from the depths of the valleys rose the shrill penetrating rattle of grasshoppers. but this hill, where lively laughter resounded and conversation was stimulated by the effects of the dinner, seemed to be far above the rest of the world. here and there dark firs or deodars peeped out of the mist with long outstretched arms like threatening ghosts. the night was quiet, everything but ourselves and the grasshoppers seemed to have gone to rest. such an impression is never effaced. etiquette forbade that any one should leave before lord kitchener--he had to give the signal for breaking up the party; but he found himself very comfortable here, and we talked in french with the wife of colonel townsend, drawing comparisons between the matrimonial state and the advantages of uncontrolled freedom. it was after midnight when the dictator of the feast rose, and then ladies and their cavaliers could make for their rickshaws. silence reigned on the moonlit hill; only the shrill song of the grasshoppers still rose to heaven. a couple of state balls also took place during my stay in the viceregal lodge. then an endless succession of rickshaws streams up to the courtyard, winding like a file of glow-worms up observatory hill. one is almost astonished that there are so many of these small two-wheeled vehicles in simla, but only the viceroy, the commander-in-chief, and the governor of the punjab are allowed to use horse carriages, because of the narrowness of the roads. then elegant ladies rustle in low dresses of silk, with agrafes of diamonds in their hair, and pass through the entrance and hall escorted by cavaliers in full-dress uniforms. one is frightfully crushed in this flood of people who have spent hours in adorning themselves so brilliantly, but the scene is grand and imposing, a _non plus ultra_ of gala toilets, a kaleidoscope of many colours, of gold and silver; the red uniforms of the officers stand out sharply against the light silk dresses of the ladies in white, pink, or blue. here and there the jewelled turban of a maharaja hovers over a sea of european coiffures. then there is a sudden silence, a passage is opened through the crowd; the herald has announced the advent of the viceroy and his party, and the band plays "god save the king." the viceroy and his lady walk slowly through the ranks, saluting on both sides, and take their seats on the thrones in the great ball-room; then the first waltz is played. the illustrious hosts summon first one and then another of their guests to converse with them; there is a rustling of silk, a humming and buzzing, shoe-soles glide with a scraping noise over the floor, and the dance-music hurries on its victims with irresistible force. the guests flock in small parties or large groups into the adjoining dining-room, and there sup at small tables. at length the ranks grow thin, the hosts retire, the wheels of the last rickshaw rattle over the sand of the courtyard, the electric lights are extinguished, and the palace is quiet again. [illustration: . herbert, viscount kitchener of khartum, late commander-in-chief of the indian army.] lord kitchener's residence stands at the end of the town of simla, and is called snowdon. the visitor enters first a large ante-room, which, with its tasteful arrangement and decoration, makes rather the impression of a reception room or a hall of honour bedecked with trophies. a fine portrait of gordon pasha is placed on an easel; opposite stand busts of alexander and cæsar. in the wainscot of the staircase is inserted the arm of the presidential chair which uncle kruger used in pretoria, and on the tables, shelves, and friezes are valuable chinese vases of the kang-hi ( - ) and kien-lung ( - ) periods; for lord kitchener is an enthusiastic collector of old chinese porcelain, but only the very finest finds favour in his eyes. but what strikes the stranger most in this unique hall, and above all attracts his attention, are the trophies and flags from lord kitchener's victories in the sudan and south africa. they hang down from their staves from an upper gallery, among them the standards of the mahdi and the dervishes of omdurman and om debraket, besides several boer flags from the transvaal and the orange free state. in the inner drawing-room we find the same luxurious decoration with chinese porcelain vases and rare ethnographical objects, among which certain tibetan temple friezes carved in wood are of great value; they were brought by younghusband's lhasa expedition. on the tables lie albums of photographs of lord kitchener's numerous tours of inspection in india, and of his journey through the cold pamir. at receptions the table is adorned with costly services in solid gold, gifts of the english nation to the victor of africa (illustration ). my time in simla came to an end; it was useless to stay any longer after i had received the last decisive answer from london. on june i took leave of the viceroy and his youngest daughter, who were going to ride to mashroba and pass the sunday there. i cannot describe the leave-taking; it was so warm and hearty. lord minto wished that i might still carry out my intentions, and he hoped sincerely that we should again meet in india. i could not on the point of departure express all the gratitude i felt. he had done all that was in his power to help me, and had exposed himself to unpleasantnesses on my account. he had played an important part in my life's course, and i knew that i had gained in him a lasting friend. it was a trial to have to say good-bye to him. he was more grieved than myself that our plans had miscarried, and for my part i felt that my honour now demanded that i should do my best. on sunday morning lady minto and her two eldest daughters also drove off to mashroba. i bade them a last farewell, and thanked them for the boundless hospitality i had enjoyed in the viceregal lodge. the moment of parting was fortunately short; bitter it certainly was. two fine carriages drove up with outriders, and escorted by native cavalry soldiers in red and gold, carrying lances in their hands. the ladies, in light bright summer toilets and hats trimmed with flowers, took their seats--the group of ladies of bluest blood, which through centuries and generations had been ennobled and refined, seemed to me like a bouquet of flowers themselves. i remained on the lowest step as long as i could catch a glimpse of the waving sunshades, but soon the red uniforms of the soldiers disappeared among the leafy trees of the avenue which leads down to the main guard, and the romance was at an end. when i again entered my room the royal palace seemed lifeless and desolate, and i had no heart to remain any longer. i packed my things, hurried into the town and paid a couple of short farewell calls, made arrangements for my heavy luggage, and was soon ready to start. on the th i went off. the number thirteen plays a rôle of some importance in this journey: on november i left trebizond on the black sea; on december i reached teheran, the capital of persia; and on june i left simla; but i was not superstitious. younghusband was the first to welcome me and the last to say good-bye; i was soon to see him again in srinagar. then the train sped downwards through the tunnels. from a bend in the road i caught sight of the viceregal lodge with its proud towers and lofty walls, the scene of so many joyful reminiscences and disappointed hopes. chapter ii departure from srinagar manuel was a singular fellow. he was a hindu from madras, small, thin, and black, spoke good english, and with his parents had joined the roman catholic church. he had presented himself at the last moment with a huge packet of testimonials and declared confidently: "if the gentleman thinks of making a long journey, the gentleman will want a cook, and i can cook." i took him into my service without looking at his testimonials (illustration ). he behaved well, was honest, and gave me more satisfaction than annoyance. the worst he did was to get lost in ladak in some mysterious way, and to this hour i have heard nothing more about him. in my compartment we sat as close as herrings in a barrel. the air became hotter and hotter; from the pleasant coolness of the heights we came again into the oppressive heat of the indian plains. passing kalka, ambala, and lahore i came to rawalpindi, where i put up at a passable hotel. but the room was hot and stuffy, and the punkah, the great fan hanging down from the ceiling, was in motion all through the night, but did not prevent the gnats from paying me importunate visits. on june a _tonga_ and three _ekkas_ stood before the hotel; i took my seat in the former, and the baggage was securely packed on the latter--and manuel. the road runs between fine avenues of trees straight to the foot of the mountains. the traffic is lively: carts, caravans, riders, tramps, and beggars. before us lie slopes of no great height, and beyond the higher mountains of the himalayas. are they walls erected across my path by hostile spirits, or do they await my coming? beyond malepur the _tonga_, drawn by two spirited horses, passes through the first hills with dark and light tints of luxuriant green. the road winds up among them, and i am glad to leave the fiery glow of the plains behind; certainly the sun is still burning, for the air is clear and the first forerunners of the cloud masses of the south-west monsoon have not yet appeared. thus we pass one stage after another. we have often to drive slowly, for we meet long trains of native soldiers in khaki uniforms with forage and munition waggons, each drawn by two mules--how glad i should have been to possess a couple of dozen of these fine animals! cool winds blow in our faces and conifers begin to appear among the foliage trees. we leave the summer station murree behind us, and now the snow-clad mountains at gulmarg are visible. after crossing a pass near murree we ascend again. beyond bandi we reach the right bank of the jhelam, but the river lies far below us; the scenery is beautiful, and its grandeur and magnificence defy description. lower and lower we go, drive close along the river's bank, and pass the night in the _dak bungalow_ of kohala. next day we cross a bridge and slowly mount the slopes of the left bank. the morning is beautifully fine, and the not over-abundant vegetation of the hills exhales an agreeable summer perfume. on our left rushes the stream, often white with foam, but its roar strikes our ears only when we make a halt; at other times it is drowned by the rattle of the _tonga_. i follow with the closest attention the changes of scenery in this wonderful country. the road is carried through some of the mountain spurs in broad vaulted tunnels. the last of these is the longest, and opens its gaping jaws before us like a black cavern. within it is delightfully cool; the short warning blasts of the signal horn reverberate melodiously in the entrails of the mountain. [illustration: . the maharaja of jammu and kashmir.] in gurie we breakfast, and rest a quarter of an hour on a comfortable couch in the verandah. here, four years previously, i spent a memorable hour with sir robert and lady harvey. the wind whistles through the same poplars, elms, and willows to-day; i feel extraordinarily forlorn and melancholy. then i had come from a great journey, now the future seems to me hopelessly dark. before me rise the softly rounded but steep slopes of the wooded mountains on the right side of the valley; down yonder the village of gurie lies on both sides of the river. the air is mild. i dream of eternal spring and forget my cares. beyond chinawari tall conifers are again seen on the cliffs. my driver, who speaks persian, points to a huge block of stone embedded in the margin of the road; ten days ago it fell and killed a man and two horses. at dangerous spots, where landslips may be expected, small white flags are stuck up. the mountain landscape becomes wilder, and its sharp outlines become more distinct in the shades of evening. we come to urie and rampur and often drive through dense forest. when we arrive at baramula we have covered miles in fourteen hours. on june it rained in torrents, but we determined in spite of it to travel the last six stages to srinagar. we canter along the straight road between endless rows of poplars. the mud splashes up, the rain beats on the roof of the _tonga_, heavy clouds involve us in semi-darkness, and there is not a trace of the mountains to be seen. the weather suits the mood in which i arrive at srinagar, the capital of kashmir on the bank of the jhelam. here i had to make several preparations for my journey--to turkestan, it was stated officially; there was no more talk of tibet. the persons whom i called upon on the first day of my sojourn in the capital of the maharaja were away, but at last i found the superintendent of the mission hospital in srinagar, dr. arthur neve. in he had treated my sick cossack, shagdur, and rendered me many other services, for which i owe him an eternal debt of gratitude. one of my best friends in india had advised me to try to persuade dr. arthur's brother, dr. ernest neve, to accompany me, but now i learned that he too had applied for permission to visit western tibet, chiefly in connection with missionary work round about rudok, and had likewise met with a refusal; he was now on his way back from the tibetan frontier above leh. dr. arthur neve is one of the men i most admire. he has devoted his life to the christian mission in kashmir, and his hospital is one of the best and most completely equipped in india. there he works indefatigably day and night, and his only reward is the satisfaction of relieving the sufferings of others. this day everything seemed to go wrong, and out of spirits i returned to nedou's hotel just as the gong announced eight o'clock. i sat down at the long table among some thirty ladies and gentlemen, all as strange to me as i to them. but in some of the parties the conversation turned on me. "have you heard that hedin is in srinagar?" "no, really? when did he come?" "to-day. of course he wants to go to tibet." "yes, but he has been forbidden, and the government has orders to prevent him crossing the frontier." "well, then, he can pass round tibet and enter it from the north." "yes, he has done it before, and can of course find the way again." it was exceedingly unpleasant to have to listen to this conversation, and i almost drowned myself in my soup-plate. i could scarcely understand how i could be thus spoken of. it seemed as though the dreams and illusions of my soul were sorted out, named, and ticketed, while my corporeal part sat at the _table d'hôte_ and swallowed soup. when we had happily arrived at the coffee i quietly withdrew, and thereafter always ate in my own room. my position was such that i had to avoid all contact with englishmen; they could do me no service, and i would on no account reveal my real designs. what a difference from any former journeys, which i had always commenced from russian soil, where every one, from the czar to the lowest _chinovnik_, had done everything to facilitate my progress! next day i called on the private secretary of the maharaja, the pundit daya kishen kaul, a stately, distinguished man who speaks and writes english perfectly. he carefully read through my letter of introduction, and kindly promised to get everything ready for me as quickly as possible. during the conversation he took notes. his agents were to receive his orders on that same day, mules would be procured, four soldiers be told off to accompany me during my whole journey, provisions, tents, and pack-saddles be bought, and he would find a pleasure in fulfilling all my wishes. no one would have an inkling that all this was done for me; every outlay would be lost among the heavy items entered under the heading "maintenance of the maharaja's court." and daya kishen kaul kept his word and became my friend. the business proceeded slowly, but still it did go forward. not a word was spoken of tibet. i was ostensibly getting ready for a journey to eastern turkestan, but his meaning smile told me that he divined my intention. even at a base of operation where one has full liberty it is not quite easy to get a caravan ready for the march; how much more difficult here where i was in the midst of intrigues and political vexations. but my self-respect and energy were stimulated, and i felt certain of succeeding in the end. the whole affair reminded me of a drama with an interminable list of rôles; the complications were great and i longed only for action. one act of the play was performed at srinagar, and i cannot pass it over, as it had a sequel later on. when everything else had been denied me from london the road to eastern turkestan still lay open. on june i received from the resident, colonel pears, the following letter: the indian government has ordered me by telegraph not to permit you to cross the frontier between kashmir and tibet. they have no objections to your travelling to chinese turkestan, taking it for granted that you have a chinese passport. but as you have lately informed me that you do not possess such a document, i have telegraphed to the indian government for further instructions. now i telegraphed to the swedish minister in london, count wrangel, and begged him to procure me a passport for eastern turkestan, a country i never thought of visiting, and then informed the government in simla of this step and of the satisfactory reply. nineteen days later i received the following letter from sir francis younghusband, who meanwhile had arrived in kashmir as the new resident: i have received a telegram from the government informing me that you may set out before the arrival of the chinese passport, but on the condition that you do not travel beyond leh. as soon, however, as the chinese government, or the swedish minister (in london), telegraphs that your passport is drawn out, you may cross the chinese frontier at your own risk; your passport will then be sent after you. then i telegraphed to count wrangel again, asking him to assure the indian government that the passport had really been granted me and was already on the way. it was already awaiting me in leh when i arrived there. it was a pure formality, for i did not need it, and it would have to be decided first where the boundary lay between eastern turkestan and tibet. the representative of china in london subsequently expressed his astonishment to count wrangel that i was travelling about in tibet with a passport made out for eastern turkestan, but count wrangel replied very justly that he could not possibly control me and the roads i followed in asia. the english government had done its best to prevent my travelling through tibet, and so there was no resource left but to outwit my opponents. how i succeeded will appear in the pages of this book. on one of the first days, accompanied by daya kishen kaul, i called on the maharaja of jammu and kashmir, sir pratab sing, whose brother, emir sing, was also present. his highness is a little middle-aged man of dreamy, melancholy aspect (illustration ). he received me with great friendliness, and promised to meet my wishes in every respect. he had heard of my journey through the desert in , and when i had narrated its incidents i had won him over to my side; he would be pleased, he assured me, to see my new expedition start from his territory. [illustration: . palace of h.h. the maharaja of kashmir in srinagar.] on june i was invited to a great fête at the maharaja's palace in honour of the emperor's birthday. the birthday of the king of england falls on november , but the emperor of india was born on june . how that happens i do not know. at the appointed time i went to younghusband, and at the quay of the residence we were taken on board a _shikara_ of the maharaja--a long, elegantly decorated boat, with soft cushions and an awning with hanging fringes and tassels, and manned by about twenty rowers in bright red clothing. we glide swiftly and noiselessly down the jhelam, see palaces, houses, and thick groves reflected picturesquely in the swirling ripples, sweep past numerous house-boats and canoes, and come to a halt a little below the bridge at the staircase to the palace, where emir sing received us on the lowest step in the red uniform of a major-general. on the platform above the steps the maharaja awaited us. and then we mingled with the varied crowd of englishmen and natives, all decked out in their best. then a court was held; all the guests filed past in slow single-file, and his highness distributed friendly shakes of the hand and nods. then in the same order all sat down in rows of chairs, just as in a theatre. but we did not rest long, for soon dinner was announced, and we made free with what kitchen and cellar provided. after the feast was over, the maharaja, his brother, and his little nephew, the heir to the throne, entered the hall and took their places at the middle of the table at which we sat. the maharaja called for a cheer for the king-emperor, another toasted younghusband, who returned thanks in a neat and partly humorous speech. then the guests were invited to go out into an open gallery with thick pillars, where they witnessed a display of fireworks. between suns and bengal fires, rockets and serpents flew into the air from boats lying on the river, and on the further bank "god save the king-emperor" was spelled out in red lamps. taste and elegance had been less studied than noise; there were detonations and sprays of fire in every nook and corner, and the whole gave an impression of unswerving loyalty. when we went down to our boat again all around was veiled in darkness; brilliant light streamed only through the colonnade of the palace façade. we rowed upstream and enjoyed a more beautiful and quieter illumination; the moon threw sinuous lines of gold across the ripples of the river, and flashes of blue lightning darted over the mountains on the horizon. the pundit daya kishen kaul divan sahib was unwearied in his kind efforts. he procured me forty mules, which he bought from the raja of poonch. i rejected four; the rest were in good condition, but they were of a less sturdy breed than the tibetan, and all foundered in tibet. he also furnished me with an escort of four soldiers who had been in the service of the maharaja. two of them, ganpat sing and bikom sing, were rajputs, and spoke hindustani; they had certificates of good conduct, and the former wore a service medal. like the cook manuel, they declared themselves prepared to sacrifice their lives for me, but i calmed them with the assurance that our campaign would not be so bloody. fortunately both belonged to the same caste, so that they could mess together; but, of course, they could not eat with other mortals. in camp i always saw them seated at their own fire a good distance from the others. the two others were pathans, bas ghul from cabul, and khairulla khan from peshawar. daya kishen kaul provided all with guns and ammunition at my expense, and their pay was fixed. they also received money for their outfit, and i prepared them to expect cold. my amiable benefactor looked after tents for me, saddles, pack-saddles, and a number of other necessary articles. meanwhile i made purchases myself in the bazaars. i got about twenty _yakdans_, small leather-covered wooden boxes such as are used in turkestan; kitchen utensils and saucepans; furs, ordinary blankets and frieze blankets; a tent-bed with mattress and a gutta-percha undersheet; warm material and _bashliks_; caps, kashmir boots, cigars, cigarettes and tobacco for a year; tea, and several hundred boxes of preserved meat; also woven stuffs, knives, daggers, etc., for presents, and no end of other things (illustrations , ). [illustration: . the jhelam in srinagar.] in all my purchases and transport arrangements i received invaluable help from cockburn's agency. it provided me with stores of rice, maize, meal and barley; for it was impossible to get together sufficient quantities in leh. it also looked after the transport of this heavy baggage, and i had every reason to be satisfied with its arrangements. i had myself brought a boat with oars, rudder, mast, sails, life-buoys and centre-board, in the large chests i had sent out to india. then i had the same scientific instruments as before: an alt-azimuth, two chronometers, meteorological instruments, compasses, photographic apparatus and plates, writing-blocks, sketch-and note-books, writing materials, field-glasses, hunting-rifles, revolvers, etc. burroughs and wellcome of london had been so kind as to present me with an unusually complete medicine-chest, which was in itself a tasteful and elegant work of art, and contained drugs specially selected for a high, cold, and dry climate. all the remedies were in tabloids, well and orderly packed, and could easily be found with the aid of a printed catalogue. the whole was carefully stowed in a pretty aluminium chest which shone like silver. the medicine-chest was from the first exceedingly popular in the caravan; every one had a blind confidence in it. i had a suspicion that many ailments were feigned just to get another look at the chest. at any rate it contained the best portable medical outfit i have ever seen. i had some difficulty in finding an assistant for meteorological observations. there was none at the central institute in simla, and therefore i applied to the meteorological station in srinagar. the chief recommended a youngster to me who had been assistant at the station and had been baptized under the name of rufus, but he was a fat bengali, who always walked about with an umbrella even when it did not rain. i was not troubled about his corpulence; he would soon be cured of that on the mountains; but, what was worse, he had certainly never seen an aneroid barometer, and i could not, try as i would, teach him to read it. i therefore dismissed him, for at the worst i could read the instruments, though i had a superabundance of other things to do. then just at the right moment a eurasian, three-and-twenty years old, presented himself, named alexander robert. in his first letter to me he gave himself no other title than the very correct one of a "stranger in srinagar"; this indicated modesty. he came to my hotel, showed me his testimonials, which were all excellent, and he struck me as a pleasant, strong, and healthy man. among other employments he had worked on the railway at peshawar and had been an assistant in dr. neve's hospital. dr. neve recommended him most warmly, and as, besides, he acquired a good knowledge of the instruments after a single lesson and needed only a few days' practice in srinagar in handling and reading them, i was very glad to engage him. he left his mother and young wife at home, but they were in no straits, and a part of his wages was paid to him in advance. i did not regret taking him, for he had a knowledge of many things, was capable, cheerful, and ready for work of any kind. when i knew him better i entrusted all my cash to his care, and could do it without hesitation, for his honesty was beyond suspicion. he was a companion to me during the long winter evenings, was a favourite in the caravan and among the tibetans, and carefully watched that every one did his duty. robert was only once a cause of grief to me, when he left me in december , in consequence of sad news he received of his family through gartok (illustration ). after robert joined me matters went on more easily. he superintended the packing of the baggage and the weighing of it out into equal loads, and helped me in stowing and distributing the heavy money-bags which held , silver and gold rupees. thus the days passed, and at last the hour of release struck. i had longed for it as for a wedding feast, and counted the intervening hours. i took leave of my old friend younghusband, who at the last moment recommended to me a caravan leader, muhamed isa of leh, and bade farewell to the maharaja, emir sing, and daya kishen kaul; and mrs. annie besant, who on several occasions had shown me great kindness, expressed the best and most sincere wishes for the success of my journey. [illustration: . the start from ganderbal.] [illustration: . my escort.] my people were ordered to be ready on the morning of july , , in the courtyard of the hotel (illustration ). the start should be delayed not a day longer; i had now waited long enough. it was evident that some hours would be required to get all in marching order for the first time. at eight o'clock the men from poonch came with their mules, but only to tell me that they must have rupees each for new clothes. the purchase of these articles of clothing took up four more hours, and in the afternoon the preparations had progressed so far that there was only the loading-up to see after. some hours elapsed before the pack-saddles and loads had been adjusted. the mules were very excited, danced round in circles, and kicked so that the boxes flew about, and at last each animal had to be led by a man (illustration ). the hired horses were more sensible. manuel on his steed presented rather a comical appearance: he had never mounted a horse in his life, and he looked frightened; his black face shone in the sun like polished iron. the whole company was taken by at least half-a-dozen amateur photographers (illustration ). at length we moved off in detachments, exactly twelve hours behind time; but the long train was at any rate on the way to gandarbal and tibet--and that was the main thing. what did it matter what time it was? feeling as though my prison doors were opened, i watched my men pass along the road (illustration ), and the whole world lay open before me. of all these men none knew of the glow of delight within me; they knew me not, and i did not know them; they came from madras, lahore, cabul, rajputana, poonch, and kashmir, a whole oriental congress, whom chance had thrown together. they might as well be robbers and bandits as anything else, and they might think that i was an ordinary _shikari sahib_ whose brain was filled with no other ideal but a record in ovis ammon's horns. i watched the start almost pitifully, and asked myself whether it would be vouchsafed to them all to return home to wife and child. but none was obliged to follow me, and i had prepared them all for a trying campaign of eighteen months. what would it have profited me to have made them anxious by anticipating troubles? trying days would come soon enough. i was most sorry for the animals, for i knew that famine awaited them. as long as there were opportunities they should satiate themselves with maize and barley that they might subsist as long as possible afterwards on their own fat. at length i stood alone in the yard, and then i drove to dal-dervaseh, where a long, narrow, five-oared boat awaited me at the stone steps, and placed myself at the tiller, when the boat put off and i was at last on the way to the forbidden land. all the long journey through persia and baluchistan had been only a prologue, which had really no result except to land me in the spider's nest in which i found myself caught in india. now, however, i was free, out of the reach of all that is called government; now i could rule, myself. the canal, on the bright mirror of which we now glided along, was varied by water plants, ducks, and boats, almost sinking under their loads of country produce. on the banks washerwomen crouched, and here and there a group of merry children were bathing; they scrambled up projecting points and mooring places, let themselves tumble into the canal, splashed and threw up the water like small whales. the canal becomes narrower, only a few yards broad, our boat takes the ground, and the oarsmen get out and draw it over the shallows. the waterway is very winding, but runs on the whole to the north; the water is shallow, but the current is with us. on either side stand picturesque houses of wood and stone as in a street of venice. at every corner the eye encounters a new charming subject for the brush, which gains additional effect from the motley figures, the vegetation, and the light lancet-shaped boats. the lighting up of the picture is also fine now that the sun is setting, bathing everything in its warm glowing beams, and causing the outlines to stand out clearly against the deep shadows. between the houses the water is as black as ink. we draw near to a small projecting height, behind which the road runs to kangan and leh. side branches debouch into the canal, but we make for a lake called anchar; its water is greyish blue, and comes from the sind, or send as they here pronounce the name of the river. after a while eddies and sandbanks show that we are in the river. the sun has set; the summer evening is quiet and peaceful, only the gnats buzz over the water. [illustration: . my three puppies. . robert, the eurasian. . ganpat sing, the rajput. . manuel, the cook. prominent members of the first expedition.] though the rowers work steadily, putting forth all their strength, we make slow progress, for the current is strong against us. i have therefore opportunity to peep into the domestic affairs of a whole series of english families in the house-boats. it is just upon nine o'clock and the inmates are gathered round the table in dress coats and elegant toilets. at one table sat three young ladies; i thought that they had spent too much trouble over their toilet, for there was nowhere any sign of a cavalier to be charmed with their appearance. through the open windows the glaring lamplight fell on the water; they saw us pass, and perhaps puzzled their heads over the reason of so late a visit. now the century-old planes of gandarbal appear, we row into a creek of stagnant water and go on shore. this was my first day's journey, but the day was far from being over. scouts were sent out, but not a soul was to be found at the appointed halting-place. we settled down between mighty tree-trunks and lighted a blazing signal fire. after a time bas ghul comes like a highway pad into the light of the flames; he leads a couple of mules, and at ten o'clock robert and manuel also lie beside our fire. but the tents and provisions are not yet here. at eleven scouts are sent out again, and we do not see or hear of them again before midnight; they report that all is well with the caravan and that it will soon be here. but when one o'clock came another scout vanished in the darkness and it was not till a quarter to three that my people arrived, after i had waited quite five hours for them. but i was not at all angry, only happy to be _en route_. new fires and resinous torches were lighted, and illuminated brightly the lower branches of the plane trees, while through the crowns the stars twinkled above our first bivouac on the way to tibet. what noise and confusion in this throng of men and baggage animals! the place was like a fair where all scold and scream and no one listens. the escort tried in vain to get a hearing, the rajputs were quieter, but the pathans abused the disobedient kashmiris and the saucy men from poonch as robbers and murderers. the animals were tethered with long cords to the foot of the trees, and on a small open space my tent pegs were for the first time driven into the ground. the tent was a present from my friend daya kishen kaul, and was my home for a long time. the baggage was piled up in walls of provision sacks and boxes, and manuel got hold at length of his kitchen utensils and unpacked his enamelled ware. the animals neighed and stamped and occasionally gave their neighbours a friendly kick, but when the barley nose-bags were carried round and hung on their necks only a whinnying was heard, which signified impatience and a good appetite. and then these children of the east, this gathering of dark-skinned men who strode about in the red firelight with tall white turbans--what a fine striking picture on the background of a pitch-dark night! i smiled to myself as i saw them hurrying hither and thither about their numerous affairs. but now dinner is ready in the lighted tent, and a box lid serves as a table. a carpet, a bed, two boxes for daily use, and the young dogs are the only furniture. there are three of the last, of which two are bitches. they are pariahs; they were enticed away from the street in srinagar and have no trace of religion (illustration ). robert and i, who always speak english, call the white and the yellow ones simply "puppy"; the third soon received the name of "manuel's friend," for manuel and he always kept together. and all this company which the sport of fortune had collected around me was to be scattered again, one after the other, like chaff before the wind. i was the only one who, six-and-twenty months later, reached simla again, and the last of all the men and animals who now lay in deep sleep under the planes of gandarbal. but i was not the last to lay myself down to rest on this first night, for when i put out my light at three o'clock the firelight still played on the side of the tent, and i seemed to feel the brisk life out in asia like a cooling breath of pine forests and mountains, snowfields and glaciers, and of broad open plains where my plans would be realized. should i be tired of it? nay, should i ever have enough of it? [illustration: . in front of nedou's hotel in srinagar. . some of our mules. . an amateur photographer photographed.] chapter iii the road to leh the day ended late. next morning i was awaked late, and the sun stood high in the heavens before we were ready to start. it took four hours to get the whole camp under weigh, to pack up and load the animals; but the work would be done more expeditiously when all knew their parts. the long train begins to move, troop after troop disappears among the trees. on both sides of the road country houses and villages peep out between willows, walnut and apricot trees, and small channels of water murmur through the rice-fields, where men are hoeing, moving in regular order, and singing a rhythmical encouraging song; the singing lightens the work, for the weeds are torn up in time with the air, and no one likes to be behind another. a bridge crosses the sind, which rolls its greyish blue water, rushing and roaring, through several large arms. now the road ascends the valley of the river, then we turn eastwards, and soon the broad valley of kashmir with its level country disappears behind us. the rise is already noticeable, and we are glad of it, for the day is warm. trees become fewer, and we ride for greater and greater stretches in the blazing sun; but all around us is green and abundantly watered, the mild air is full of life and productive energy, and the whole valley resounds with the roar of the river and the echo it calls forth. i have passed this way twice before, but on both occasions the sind valley was covered with snow; now summer reigns in the deep hollows and on the heights. at kangan we pitched our tents in a thick copse. this time the camp was marked out and the tents set up fairly expeditiously. the _numberdar_ of the village procured us everything we wanted--we did not wish to touch our own stores until it became impossible to obtain local supplies. the four coolies who had carried the boat were here relieved by four others, who were to carry it up to gunt. so we had accomplished another day's journey. we all delighted in the free, active life. but the day was declining, the shadows grew longer, the sun disappeared an hour sooner than usual, for it was concealed by the mountains, and after we had listened for a while to the plaintive bark of the jackals we also went early to rest. in the stillness of the night the roar of the stream sounded still louder; its water came from the heights which were the goal of our hopes; but with still greater longing would my eyes one day watch these eddies on their way to the sea. when i came out of my tent in the cool of the morning the rest of the caravan had already set out, and the camp looked empty and deserted. the new day was not promising, for it rained hard, and thunder growled among the mountains; but the summer morning gave forth an odour of forest and fresh green vegetation, and after a good breakfast my detachment, to which robert and manuel belonged, started on its march. the sun soon came out, and with the warmth great swarms of flies, which tortured our animals and made them restive. the road ran down to the river and through the trees on its right bank. on the crest of the left flank of the valley some patches of snow still defied the summer sun, and the wood opposite was much thicker than on our side. here and there a conifer raised its dark crown above the lighter foliage. at the village mamer, where a mill-wheel swished through the waterfall, and an open booth invited the traveller to refresh himself, khairullah remained awhile behind in company with a smoking narghilé. at ganjevan we crossed the river by three shaking bridges. in the background of the narrowing valley rose a mountain covered with snow. the scenery was fine, and we enjoyed a ride really elevating in a double sense. our caravan had to halt several times when a mule threw off its load; but the animals were already quieter, and i looked forward with anxiety to the time when they would become meek as lambs, and when no objurgations would induce them to move on. the camp at gunt was already in order when we arrived. my first thought is always for the puppies; in the morning, during the first hours of the march, they whine, finding the movement of the mule very uncomfortable, but the rocking soon sends them to sleep. but as soon as they are taken out of the basket they fall foul of one another, and then they wander all the evening among the tents, gnawing and tearing at everything. even with a temperature of . ° f. i felt so cold in the night, after the heat of the plains, that i woke and covered myself with a fur rug. the river in the morning marked only . °. upstream the view became ever finer. sometimes we rode through narrow defiles, sometimes up steep dangerous slopes, sometimes over broad expansions of the valley with cultivated fields. then the precipitous rocks drew together again, and cool dense shadows lay among willows and alders. the roar of the stream drowned all other sounds. the river had now become smaller, so many tributaries having been left behind us, but its wild impetuosity and its huge volumes of dashing water were the more imposing; the water, greenish blue and white, foaming and tossing, boiled and splashed among huge blocks of dark green schist. in a gully, close to the bank, a conical avalanche still lay thawing, and up above small waterfalls appeared on the slopes like streaks of bright white paint. when we came nearer we could perceive the movement, and the cascades that resolved themselves into the finest spray. then the valley spread out again, and conifers alone clothed its flanks. we bivouacked at sonamarg, where i set out some years before from the _dak bungalow_ on a winter's night, with lanterns and torches, for a venturesome excursion over the avalanches of the zoji-la pass. the governor of kashmir had sent a _chaprassi_ with me, and at a word from him all the local authorities were at our service. but it was not easy to keep some of the members of the caravan in order. bas ghul and khairullah proved to be great brawlers, who began to quarrel with the others on every possible occasion. bas ghul evidently considered it his chief duty to appropriate a coolie for his own service, and khairullah thought himself much too important to help in unloading. the others complained daily of annoyance from the afghans, and i soon saw that this escort would give us more trouble than help. among the rest, also, the kashmiris and the men from poonch, there were petty pilferers, and the rajputs were ordered to watch that none of our belongings went astray. in baltal there was a great commotion, for people from sonamarg appeared and declared that my servants had stolen a saucepan as they passed through. and it was actually found among the poonch men. the complainants received their pan back again as well as compensation for their trouble (illustration ). the state of the road from baltal over the zoji-la pass was very different now from what it was in the year . then the whole country was covered with snow, and we slided almost the whole way down over glaciated slopes. now some five hundred workmen were engaged in mending the road up to the pass. their industry was indicated by thundering blasts, and now and then great blocks of stone fell down uncomfortably near to us. now our heavily-laden caravan had to cross the pass. slowly and carefully we march up over hard and dirty but smooth avalanche cones, in which a small winding path has been worn out by the traffic. water trickles and drops in the porous mass, and here and there small rivulets issue from openings in the snow. after a stretch of good road comes a steep slope along a wall of rock--a regular staircase, with steps of timber laid across the way. it was a hard task for laden animals to struggle up. now and then one of them slipped, and a mule narrowly escaped falling over--a fall from the steep acclivity into the deep trough of the roaring sind would have been almost certain destruction, not a trace of the unfortunate beast would have been found again. from our lofty station the river looked like a thread. after some sacks of maize had fallen overboard, each of the animals was led by two men. [illustration: . the road to baltal.] the train advanced slowly up. piercing cries were constantly heard when one of the animals was almost lost. but at last we got over the difficulties, and travelled over firm snow and level ground. the thawed water from a huge cone of snow on the south side flowed partly to the sind, partly to the dras. the latter increased with astonishing quickness to a considerable river, and our small and slippery path followed its bank. a treacherous bridge crossed a wild tributary, with agitated waters of a muddy grey colour. one of the mules broke through it, and it was only at the last moment that his load could be saved. then the bridge was mended with flat stones for the benefit of future passengers. the dras is an imposing river; its waters pour over numerous blocks that have fallen into its bed, and produce a dull grinding sound. and this mighty river is but one of the thousand tributaries of the indus. we reached matayun in drizzling rain, and had scarcely set up our camp when the caravan-men came to loggerheads. we here overtook a hired contingent of horses with forage. their drivers had received orders to travel as quickly as possible to leh; but now it appeared that they had remained stationary for several days, and wanted to be paid extra in consequence. the authorities in srinagar had done their best to make my journey to leh easy, but there is no order in kashmir. in robert i had an excellent assistant; he did everything to appease the refractory men. i now saw myself that stringent measures must be resorted to, and i waited impatiently for a suitable occasion for interference. about three-fourths of the poonch men reported themselves ill; they wished to ride, and that was the whole cause of their illness. the mules, when not wanted, were to go unloaded, in order to economize their strength, and on that account we had hired horses in srinagar. some men had been kicked by our hot-tempered mules, and now came for treatment. then we go on to dras and karbu. on the heights above the dras we pass the famous stone figures of buddha, and then we descend a narrow picturesque valley to karbu. the river constantly increases in volume, and presents a grand spectacle; small affluents fall between the rocks like silver ribands, and spread out over the dejection fans. the pink blossoms of the hawthorn wave gracefully in the wind, which cools us during the hot hours of the day. fine dark juniper bushes, tall as cypresses, adorn the right bank. in front of the station-house in karbu an elderly man in a white turban came up to me. "good day, abdullah," i said to him, for i immediately recognized the honest fellow who had helped me up over the snowfields of the zoji-la on the former occasion. "salaam, sahib," he answered, sobbing, fell on his knees and embraced my foot in the stirrup, after the oriental custom. "will you go on a long journey with me?" i asked. "yes, i will follow you to the end of the world, if the commissioner sahib in leh will allow me." "we will soon settle that. but, tell me, how have you got on since we last saw one another?" "oh, i am the _tekkedar_ of karbu, and provide passing caravans with all they want." "well, then, think over the matter till to-morrow, and if you wish to accompany me, i have a post free for you among my people." "there is no need of consideration; i will go with you, though i only get a rupee a month." but abdullah was too old and infirm for tibet, and the conditions which he afterwards put before robert were much more substantial than he had represented them in the first joy of meeting me again: rupees monthly, everything found, his own horse, and exemption from all heavy work were now his demands. consequently next morning we bade each other an eternal farewell. now a traveller turned up from the preceding station, and complained that the poonch men had stolen a sheep from him. as they denied it, i made the plaintiff accompany us to kargil, where the case could be tried before the magistrate. [illustration: . kargil.] [illustration: . chhorten in lamayuru. sketches by the author.] we approached the striking spot, where two valleys converge and the dras joins the wakkha, passed the sharp rocky angle, and rode up close by the bank of the wakkha. the valley has a very great fall, and the powerful stream rushes down in wild commotion, swells up and leaps over the blocks in its way, or breaks into foaming, tumultuous surge. several old acquaintances and the vezir vezarat himself came to meet us, and before we reached kargil we were accompanied by a whole cavalcade. we bivouacked in a cool grove of poplars and willows, and intended to rest the following day (illustration ). this day brought some picturesque scenes. surrounded by the authorities of kargil with the pundit lashman das and the vezir vezarat at their head, i held judgment over the heterogeneous rabble which had caused so much embarrassment in the first week of my journey. firstly, all the kashmiris, with their leader aziza, were dismissed. then came the turn of their fellow-countrymen, who had transported hither on hired horses the maize and barley for our animals, and lastly we came to the poonch men. as regards the sheep-stealing the following procedure was adopted. the suspected men were tied to a couple of trees, and though there was a cool shade, they grew weary, and after waiting three hours for a rescuing angel, confessed all, and were thereupon sentenced to pay double the value of the sheep. then khairullah stepped forward and interceded for his friend aziza; as his request was not granted he was annoyed, and positively refused to undertake the night watch. so he, too, was dismissed, and was allowed to take with him the other afghan, bas ghul, who suffered from periodical fits of insanity, and was moreover a rogue. it was quite a relief to me to get rid of these esquires of our bodyguard. of the original "congress of orientalists" in srinagar only four men now remained, namely, robert, manuel, ganpat sing, and bikom sing. when we left kargil on july we took with us hired horses with their leaders, and the forage of the animals formed small heaps. a native veterinary surgeon was to accompany us to see that the mules were well tended. after we had bought all the barley we could get hold of, our caravan had much increased, and the weeding-out effected in kargil made the succeeding days of our journey to leh much more agreeable than the previous. at shargul we passed the first lama temple on this route; beyond mullbe they gradually became more numerous. at every step one finds evidence that one is in the country of the lamas; the small white temples in tibetan style crown the rocky points and projections like storks' nests, and dominate the valleys and villages below them. but a monk in his red toga is seldom seen; the temples seem silent and abandoned among the picturesque _chhorten_ monuments and _manis_. the whole relief of the country is now much more prominent than in winter, when the universal snow-mantle makes all alike and obliterates all the forms. the fantastic contours of the mountains stand out sharply with their wild pinnacles of rock and embattled crests, which above bod-karbu mingle with the old walls and towers, of which only ruins are now left. on july we crossed the river by a tolerably firm bridge, and continued to ascend the valley which leads to the potu-la. just beyond the pass the authorities of lamayuru came to meet us with flowers and fruits, and each one, according to the custom of the country, offered a rupee, which, however, we needed only to touch with the hand. a little further the first _chhorten_ appeared, followed by a long row of others; the stone heaps pointed towards the famous monastery of lamayuru. passing round a projecting corner a little farther on, we had a clear view of a small valley between lofty mountains, and here rose a precipitous terrace of detritus, on which the monastery is built. some white buildings up there stood out sharply against a grey background, and in the depths of the valley cultivated fields spread out among a few groups of trees (illustration ). [illustration: . church music in lamayuru. . portrait of a lama. . portrait of a lama. sketches by the author.] as soon as our party was visible from the valley, music was heard, and long brass drums boomed from the temple roofs with a deep, solemn, organ tone, which was joyously echoed among the mountains. would the lama monasteries of tibet give us such a friendly welcome? as we entered the village, there stood there about thirty women in their best clothes, in fur-trimmed coloured mantles, with blinkers firmly plaited into the hair, and with turquoises on the top. all the inhabitants had turned out, and formed a picturesque group round the band, which started a deafening tune with its flutes and drums (illustration ). in the afternoon we went up to the monastery, where the prior and the monks received us at the main entrance. they led us into the open court of the monastery, surrounded by old buildings, _chhorten_, and flagstaffs. from here one has a grand view of the valley which slopes down to the indus. under dark masses of cloud, and in fine rain, seven monks executed an incantation dance; they had tied on masks of wild animals, evil spirits, and monsters with laughing mouths, tusks for teeth, and uncanny staring eyes. their motley coats stood out like bells as they danced, and all the time weird music was played. how the monks must be wearied in their voluntary imprisonment! evidently their only relaxation is to display their religious fanaticism before the inquisitive eyes of passing strangers. immediately beyond the village we descend a dangerously steep road in the small, narrow, and wild ravine which leads to the indus. the deep trough of the dras is crossed by small, neat wooden bridges, and after a couple of hours' journey one rides as through a portal into the great, bright valley of the indus, and has the famous river before one. it is a grand sight, and i halt for some time on a swinging wooden bridge to gaze at the vast volume of water which, with its great load and its rapid current, must excavate its channel ever deeper and deeper. the station-house, nurla, stands just above the river, which tosses and roars under its windows. the day had been broiling hot; the rocks and soil of this grey, unfruitful valley seem to radiate out a double quantity of heat, and even in the night the thermometer marked °. even the river water had a temperature of ° in the daytime, but still, though dirty-grey like porridge, it was a delicious drink in the heat. as far as saspul we rode along the right bank close to the river. here the road is often dangerous, for it is cut like a shelf in the steep wall of rock, and one feels at ease only when the valuable baggage has passed safely. the danger is that a pack-horse on the mountain-side may thrust itself past another, and force this one over the edge of the rock, so that one may in a moment lose one's instruments, photographic apparatus, or sacks of rupees. at jera a small emerald-green foaming torrent dashes headlong into the indus, and is lost in its bosom--the clear green water is swallowed up instantaneously by the muddy water of the indus. one is delighted by the constantly changing bold scenery and the surprises encountered at every turn of the road. the eyes follow the spiral of a constantly moving vortex, or the hissing spray which the wind whips off the crests of the waves. one almost envies the turbid eddies of this water which comes from the forbidden land, from gartok, from the regions north of the kailas mountain, from the unknown source of the indus itself, whither no traveller has yet penetrated, and which has never been marked down on a map. the bridge of alchi, with its crooked, yielding beams, seemed just as dangerous as on my last visit, but its swaying arch boldly spans the interval between the banks, and during a pleasant rest in the shade the bridge was reproduced in my sketch-book. the waves dashed melodiously against the stone embankment of the road, and i missed the sound when the route left the bank and ascended to saspul, where we were received with the usual music and dancing-women (illustration ). basgho-gompa has a fine situation in a side valley of the indus. the monastery is built on the left side of the valley, the white walls of three storeys, with balconies, effective cornices and pennants, standing on a long cliff. a quantity of _chhortens_ and _manis_ surround basgho. the sacred formula "om mani padme hum" is carved on a slab of green slate, and lizards, as green as the stone, dart about over the words of eternal truth. [illustrations: . the sumto valley. . bridge of alchi. . girl in niemo. & . palace of the kings of ladak in leh. sketches by the author.] the first of august was the last day of our journey to leh. a bright, peaceful morning; the rays of the sun crept warm and agreeably through the foliage of the apricot trees, and threw green reflexions into the station-room. we rode near the indus as far as where the monastery, spittol, stands on its hill, beyond which the road turns aside from the river and runs straight up to leh, which is visible from a distance, surrounded by verdant gardens. mohanlal, a merchant of leh, who had undertaken a large part of the final equipment of the expedition, came to meet us, and, as we rode past an enclosed field of fine clover, told me that he had bought it for my mules. we dismounted at the gate of a large garden, and went in. in the midst of the garden stands a stone house among poplars and willows. it is usually the residence of the vezir vezarat, the representative of kashmir in ladak, but now it was to be my headquarters for twelve days. here i had a roof over my head for the last time for two long years, and i found myself very comfortable in my study up one flight of stairs. robert occupied another room, and an open, shady balcony was fitted up as a meteorological observatory. manuel and the two rajputs had the control of the ground-floor; in the courtyard purveyors and new servants were continually coming and going, and adjoining the garden was our stable, where the newly obtained horses were posted in the open air. leh is the last place of any importance on the way to tibet. here our equipment must be finally completed. nothing could be omitted; if we forgot anything we could not obtain it afterwards. here the silver stream of rupees flowed away without intermission, but i consoled myself with the thought that we should soon be in a country where, with the best will in the world, we could not spend a farthing. a large caravan sucks up money, as a vampire blood, as long as it remains in inhabited cultivated lands; but when all contact with human civilization is cut off, it must live on its own resources; consequently, it gradually dwindles and approaches its dissolution. as long as it is at all possible we let the animals eat all they can; the best clover to be had must be procured, and both horses and mules must be so well tended that they can afterwards live on their own fat and endure the hardships that await them. chapter iv the last preparations captain patterson was now joint-commissioner of the province of ladak. he received me from the first with the greatest hospitality and kindness, and was one of the finest men i have ever come in contact with. having a thorough knowledge of india, ladak, and tibet, he was able to give me valuable hints and advice, and was untiring in assisting to equip the great caravan, the object of which was still, officially, eastern turkestan, without overstepping his instructions by a hair's breadth. i found in him a true friend, and after dinner, which i always took at eight o'clock in the evening, we often sat together till long after midnight, talking of the future of asia and the doings of the world. [illustration: . muhamed isa.] sir francis younghusband had recommended to me a well-known caravan leader, muhamed isa. i had seen him in kashgar and srinagar, and knew that he had been present at the murder of the french explorer, dutreuil de rhins, on june , . during about thirty years he had travelled in most parts of central asia, and was also acquainted with many parts of tibet. besides a number of shorter journeys which he had accomplished in the service of various sahibs, he had also been carey's and dalgleish's caravan leader on their great march through central asia, and had served a couple of years under dutreuil de rhins. he accompanied younghusband on his famous march over the mustagh pass ( ), and had been his caravan leader in the campaign to lhasa ( - ). on ryder's and rawling's journey in the valley of the upper brahmaputra he had had the management of the baggage caravan. during all these journeys he had acquired experience which might be very useful to me, and i gratefully accepted younghusband's proposal, especially as captain patterson, in whose service muhamed isa then was, did not hesitate to place him at my disposal. besides, muhamed isa spoke fluently turki, tibetan, and hindustani, and wished for nothing better than to accompany me. without knowing that he had been warmly recommended, he had earnestly begged his master to allow him to enter my service (illustration ). his father was a man of yarkand, his mother a lamaist of leh. the mixed race of such unions is called argon, and is generally distinguished by physical power and extraordinarily well-developed muscular structure. muhamed isa also was a fine man, tall and strong as a bear, with great power of endurance, reliable and honest, and after a few days' journey with him i found that my caravan could not have been entrusted to better hands. that the first crossing of tibet was so successful was due in great measure to his services. he kept splendid discipline among the men, and if he were sometimes strict, it was for the good of the caravan, and he permitted no neglect of duty. he entertained robert and myself, and even the caravan men, for hours together with tales of his fortunes and his adventures in the service of other europeans, criticising some of his former masters without much reserve. the remembrance of dutreuil de rhins especially seemed to affect him; he frequently returned to his account of the attack made on the unfortunate frenchman. he was also a good boaster, and declared that once in midwinter he had carried a letter in ten days from yarkand to leh, with all his provisions on his back--a journey that an ordinary mortal takes a month to accomplish. but there was no harm in his exaggerations; he was always witty and amusing, always cheerful and ready for a joke, and kept up the spirits of the rest in depressing circumstances. poor muhamed isa! how little we suspected, when he and i set out together, that he would never return to his wife and home! i had scarcely taken possession of my new dwelling in leh when muhamed isa appeared with a pleasant, kindly "salaam, sahib." "peace be with you," i answered; "you have not changed much in all the years since we met in kashgar. are you disposed to accompany me on a journey of two years through the high mountains?" "i wish nothing better, and the commissioner sahib has allowed me to report myself to you for service. but i should like to know whither we are to travel." "we are going northwards to eastern turkestan; you will hear about our further movements when we have left the last villages behind." "but i must know the details of your plan because of the preparations." "you must take provisions for horses and men for three months, for it may happen that we shall be so long without coming into contact with human beings." "then, surely, we must be making for tibet--that is a country i know as well as my house in leh." "what are your terms?" "forty rupees a month, and an advance of two hundred rupees to leave with my wife at starting." "all right! i take you into my service, and my first order is: buy about sixty strong horses, complete our store of provisions so that it may last three months, and get together the necessary equipment for the caravan." "i know very well what we want, and will have the caravan ready to march in ten days. but let me suggest that i be allowed to choose the servants, for i know the men here in leh, and can tell which are fit for a long trying journey." "how many do you want to manage the caravan?" "five-and-twenty men." "very well, engage them; but you must be responsible that only useful, honest men enter my service." "you may depend on me," said muhamed isa, and added, that he knew it to be to his own interest to serve me well. during the following days muhamed isa was always on his feet, looking out for horses. it was not advisable for many reasons to buy them all at once--for one thing, because the prices would then rise; so we bought only five or six each day. as, however, the peasants from the first asked exorbitantly high prices, a commission of three prominent ladakis was appointed, who determined the real value of the horses offered for sale. if the seller were satisfied with the assessment, he was paid at once, and the horse was led to his stall in our open stable. otherwise, the seller went away, but usually returned next day. altogether horses were bought, and robert made a list of them: came from various villages in ladak, from eastern turkestan, from kashmir, and from sanskar. the sanskar horses are considered the best, but are difficult to get. the ladak horses, too, are good, for, being bred in the mountains, they are accustomed to rarefied air and poor pasture; they are small and tough. the turkestan horses have, as a rule, less power of endurance, but we had to take them for want of better, and all ours had crossed the karakorum pass ( , feet) once or oftener. as the horses were bought they were numbered in the list, and this number on a strip of leather was fastened to the mane of the horse. afterwards i compiled a list of the dead, as they foundered, in order to ascertain their relative power of resistance. the first that died was a sanskar, but that was pure chance--he died some days after we marched out of leh, of acute disease. later on the losses were greatest among the yarkand horses. the prices varied considerably, from to rupees, and the average price was rupees. a horse at rupees fell after three weeks; another, that cost exactly half, carried me a year-and-a-half. the commission was very critical in its selection, and muhamed isa inspected every four-legged candidate before it was accepted. as a rule we did not hesitate to take horses ten or twelve years old; the tried horses were more reliable than the younger ones, though these often appeared much more powerful. but not one of them all was to return from tibet; the lofty mountains let none of their prey escape. "morituri te salutant," said captain patterson forebodingly, as the first caravan passed out of leh. the caravan, then, consisted of mules and horses. it is always hard at the last to make up one's mind to start; after a few days we should find ourselves in country where we could procure nothing but what grows of itself on the ground. certainly we were in the very best season; the summer grass was now in the greatest luxuriance, but it would soon become more scanty, and in about ten days we should reach a height where there was no pasturage. therefore it was necessary to take as much maize and barley as possible with us, and here a difficulty came in: we durst not overburden the animals with too heavy loads, for then the strength of the caravan would be broken in the first month, while, in the second month, it would come to grief if we should find ourselves, as was most probable, in a barren country. and as the days pass, the stores diminish and come to an end just when they are most wanted. in the first weeks we had the ascent to the border region of the tibetan plateau before us, and had consequently to expect the most troublesome country to traverse just at the commencement of the journey. therefore our first marches were short, and all the shorter because the loads were heavier. this is a pretty complicated problem for an army commissariat. after consultation with muhamed isa i resolved to hire an auxiliary caravan of horses from tankse to accompany us for the first month and then return. hence arose a financial problem. the men of tankse asked rupees a month for each horse, or rupees in all; of course they ran great risk, and i must therefore undertake to pay rupees for every horse that fell on the outward journey, and rupees for one that fell on the return home. in the worst case, then, the cost would amount to rupees. on the other hand, if i bought these horses at rupees a head, the total expenditure would be rupees, and the horses would belong to me. then the old problem was repeated: i should have to take fodder for these thirty horses, and engage ten men to attend to them, and for these men provisions must be obtained. after many pros and cons we at length decided to hire the horses only, for then their owners would accompany them at their own risk and supply themselves with rations carried by seven yaks. the provisions for the first month were to be taken from our own animals, to lighten their loads and economize their strength; for a horse or mule always gets tired at the beginning of the journey, and must be spared. but if one of the hired horses became exhausted, its owner was at liberty to send it home before the expiration of the month. as forage and grazing was dear in leh, we sent off as early as august , mules and horses with their loads, and men and a _chaprassi_, to muglib, which lies beyond tankse and has good pastures. sonam tsering, whom captain rawling had strongly recommended, was chosen as leader of this caravan. he received rupees for the expenses of the caravan. muhamed isa accompanied it part of the way to see that everything went on smoothly. a few days after his engagement muhamed isa presented to me men, who, he proposed, should enter my service. there was no difficulty in finding men willing to come; all leh would have followed me if wanted. the difficulty was to make a proper choice, and appoint only serviceable men who could fill their posts and understood their duties. it was a solemn moment when the main body of the caravan assembled in my garden, but the spectacle had its humorous side when muhamed isa, proud as a world-conqueror, stepped forward and mustered his legions. at my request captain patterson was present to have a look at the fellows; he now delivered a short address, and impressed on them how important it was for their own sakes to serve me honestly. their pay was fixed at rupees a month, and half a year's pay was advanced to them. the rev. mr. peter was so kind as to undertake to distribute the money to their families. lastly, i promised each a present of rupees for good behaviour, and bound myself to guarantee their journey home to leh, with expenses, from whatever place we might separate. in the course of my narrative i shall have abundant opportunities of introducing these men individually to my readers. besides sonam tsering, already mentioned, who had served under deasy and rawling, i will here name old guffaru, a greyheaded man with a long white beard, who thirty-three years ago accompanied forsyth's embassy to jakub bek of kashgar. he had seen the great bedaulet ("the fortunate one") in all his pomp and state, and had many tales of his experiences on forsyth's famous journey. i at first hesitated to take with me a man of sixty-two, but he begged so earnestly; he was, he said, muhamed isa's friend, and he was so poor that he could not live if i did not employ him. he had the forethought to pack up a shroud that he might be buried decently if he died on the way. that everything should be properly managed in such case, and that his outstanding pay might be transmitted to his family, he took his son, kurban, with him. but guffaru did not perish, but was in excellent condition all the time he was with me (illustration ). another, on whom i look back with great sympathy and friendly feeling, was shukkur ali. i had known him in in kashgar, where he was in younghusband's service, and he, too, remembered that i had once drawn him in his master's tent. he was so unconsciously comical that one almost died of laughter as soon as he opened his mouth, and he was my oldest acquaintance among this group of more or less experienced asiatics. he had taken part in wellby's journey, and gave us the most ghastly descriptions of the sufferings the captain, who afterwards fell in the boer war, and his caravan had to endure in north tibet, when all the provisions were consumed and all the animals had perished. a year later he shared in my boating trips on the holy lake, manasarowar, and was as useful as he was amusing. shukkur ali was an honest soul, and a stout fellow, who did his work without being told, quarrelled with no one, and was ready and willing for any kind of service. he was always in the highest spirits, even during a violent storm in the middle of the lake, and i saw him weep like a child on two occasions only--at the grave of muhamed isa, and when we said the last good-bye. [illustration: . guffaru.] these three were mohammedans, as their names show. the caravan contained eight sons of islam in all; the leader, muhamed isa, was the ninth. the other seventeen were lamaists. then came two hindus, a catholic, manuel, and two protestants, robert and myself. i will not vouch for the religious convictions of the lamaists. as regards some among them, i found that they sometimes changed their religion. for instance, rabsang, when he travelled to yarkand, was a mohammedan and shaved his head, but on the way to tibet he was just as zealous a believer in lamaism. the oldest of my companions was guffaru, sixty-two, and the youngest adul, twenty-two, and the average age of the whole company was thirty-three years. eleven of these men came from leh, the others from different villages of ladak. only one was a foreigner, the gurkha rub das from the frontier of nepal. he was quiet and faithful, and one of my very best men. it was a pity he had no nose; in a hot scuffle in lhasa an opponent had bitten off that important and ornamental organ. i may pass quickly over the equipment; it is always the same. for the men rice, flour, _talkan_, or roasted meal, which is eaten mixed with water, and brick tea in bulk were taken. for myself several hundred tins of preserved meat, tea, sugar, tobacco, etc., all provided by the merchant mohanlal, whose bill came to rupees. new pack-saddles, ropes, frieze rugs, horse-shoes, spades, axes and crowbars, bellows, cooking-pots, copper cans, and the cooking utensils of the men with other articles cost nearly a thousand rupees. the pack-saddles we had bought in srinagar were so bad that we had to have new ones made, and muhamed isa enlisted some twenty saddlers, who sewed all day under the trees of the garden. but everything was ready in time and was of first-rate quality. captain patterson declared that a better-found caravan had never left leh. how stupid i had been to linger so long in srinagar and associate with the lazy gentlemen of the maharaja. everything that came from there was either exorbitantly dear or useless. only the mules were good. yet i always remember my sojourn in srinagar with feelings of great thankfulness and pleasure. the moravian missionaries in leh rendered me invaluable service. they received me with the same hospitality and kindness as before, and i passed many a memorable hour in their pleasant domestic circle. pastor peter had endless worries over my affairs; he managed both now and afterwards all the business with the new retainers. dr. shawe, the physician of the mission, was an old friend i had known on my former journey, when he treated my sick cossack, shagdur, in the excellent mission hospital. now, too, he helped me both by word and deed. he died in leh a year later, after a life devoted to suffering humanity. many of my dearest recollections of the long years i have spent in asia are connected with the mission stations, and the more i get to know about the missionaries the more i admire their quiet, unceasing, and often thankless labours. all the moravians i met in the western himalayas are educated to a very high standard, and come out exceptionally well prepared for the work before them. therefore it is always very stimulating and highly instructive to tarry among them, and there is none among the europeans now living who can vie with these missionaries in their knowledge of the ladak people and their history. i need only mention dr. karl marx and pastor a. h. francke as two men who are thoroughly at home in strictly scientific archæological investigation. some young coxcombs, to whom nothing is sacred, and whose upper storeys are not nearly so well furnished as those of the missionaries, think it good form to treat the latter with contemptuous superiority, to find fault with them, to sit in judgment on them, and pass sentence on their work in the service of christianity. whatever may be the result of their thankless toil, an unselfish struggle for the sake of an honest conviction is always worthy of admiration, and in a time which abounds in opposing factors it seems a relief to meet occasionally men who are contending for the victory of light over the world. in leh the missionaries have a community which they treat with great gentleness and piety, for they know well that the religion inherited from their fathers has sunk deep into the bone and marrow of the natives, and can only be overcome by cautious, patient labour. even the ladakis who never visit the mission stations always speak well of the missionaries, and have a blind confidence in them, for apart from their mission work they exercise an effect by their good example. the hospital is made great use of, and medical science is a sure way of access to the hearts of the natives. during the last days of my stay in leh i saw my old friends again, mr. and mrs. ribbach, in whose hospitable house i had spent many pleasant winter evenings four years ago. one day captain patterson proposed that i should go with him to call on the wealthy merchant hajji nazer shah. in a large room on the first floor, with a large window looking over the indus valley, the old man sat by the wall, on soft cushions, with his sons and grandsons around him. all about stood chests full of silver and gold-dust, turquoise and coral, materials and goods which would be sold in tibet. there is something impressively patriarchal about hajji nazer shah's commercial house, which is managed entirely by himself and his large family. this consists of about a hundred members, and the various branches of the house in lhasa, shigatse, gartok, yarkand, and srinagar are all under the control of his sons, or their sons. three hundred years ago the family migrated from kashmir to ladak. hajji nazer shah is the youngest of three brothers; the other two were hajji haidar shah and omar shah, who died some years ago leaving numerous sons behind them. the real source of their wealth is the so-called lopchak mission, of which they possess a monopoly. in accordance with a treaty nearly years old, the kings of ladak sent every third year a special mission to the dalai lama, to convey presents which were a token of subjection to the supremacy of tibet, at any rate in spiritual matters. however, after soravar sing, gulab sing's general, conquered ladak in and annexed the greater part of this country to kashmir, the maharaja of kashmir took over the duty of carrying out the lopchak mission, and always entrusted it to one of the noblest, most prominent families of ladak. for some fifty years this confidential post has been in the family of nazer shah, and has been a source of great profit to them, especially as several hundred baggage animals are provided for the mission gratis, for the journey from leh to lhasa. a commercial agent is also sent yearly from lhasa to leh, and he enjoys the same transport privileges. the mission had left eight months before under the charge of one of the hajji's sons. another son, gulam razul, was to repair in september to gartok, where he is the most important man in the fair. i asked him jokingly if i might travel with him, but hajji nazer shah replied that he would lose the monopoly if he smuggled europeans into tibet. gulam razul, however, offered me his services in case i should be in the neighbourhood of gartok, and i afterwards found that this was not a mere polite speech. he will play a most important part in this narrative. after my return to india i had an opportunity of drawing attention in high quarters to the importance to english interests of his commercial relations in tibet, and i warmly recommended him as a suitable candidate for the much-coveted title of khan bahadur, which he, indeed, received, thanks to the kind advocacy of colonel dunlop smith. now, too, he rendered me many valuable services; perhaps the greatest was to take a considerable sum in indian paper in exchange for cash, part of which consisted of a couple of bags of tibetan _tengas_, which proved very useful four months later. the old hajji was a fine mohammedan of the noblest type. he obeyed faithfully the commands of the koran, and five times daily tottered into the mosque to perform his devotions. he had more than enough of the good things of this world, for his extensive business connections brought him in yearly a net profit of , rupees, and his name was known and respected throughout the interior of asia. before my return he had left the stage and taken possession of his place, with his face turned towards mecca, in the mohammedan graveyard outside the gate of leh. [illustration: . the raja of stok. . portal of the palace in leh. . view over the indus valley from the roof of the palace in leh. . lama of high rank in leh. sketches by the author.] the small town itself is full of the most attractive and fascinating examples of tibetan architecture. on all sides are seen quiet nooks with motley figures, temple portals, mosques, houses rising one above another, and open shops, whither customers flock; and the traffic became brisker every day after the summer caravans from yarkand over the kardang pass began to arrive at leh. round the town stands a crescent of bare, lumpy, sun-lighted hills; to the south and south-east the dry gravelly plain slopes down to the indus, where a series of villages among green fields and woods impart some life to the picture. on the farther side is seen the stokpa, a lofty summit, below which the village stokpa peeps out of a valley mouth. here resides an ex-king of the third generation, the raja of stok, whose grandfather ruled as king of ladak but was deprived by soravar sing of his dignity and state. the raja of stok, or, to give him his full name and title, yigmet kungak singhei lundup thinlis zangbo sodnam nampar gelvela, yagirdar of the state of stok, awakes one's sympathy in his somewhat sad position; he is evidently painfully sensitive of the loss of the honour and power which fate has denied him. he was on a visit to leh, for he owns an unpretending but pretty house in the main street. the tibetans still look upon him as the true and rightful king, while the ruler of the country, the maharaja of kashmir, is only a usurper in their eyes. we therefore concluded that a letter of recommendation from this raja of stok might be very useful some day or other. he was evidently flattered by my request and quite ready to grant it. in his open letter he ordered "all men in tibet of whatever rank, from rudok, gartok, and rundor to shigatse and gyantse, to allow sahib hedin to pass freely and unmolested, and to render him all necessary assistance." this highly important document, with the date and the red square seal of the raja affixed, was afterwards read by many tibetan chieftains, on whom it made not the slightest impression. they quietly answered: "we have only to obey the orders of the devashung in lhasa." (illustration .) the old palace of leh stands on its rock like a gigantic monument of vanished greatness. from its roof one has a grand view of the town, the indus valley, and the great mountains beyond the river. in the foreground stretch fields of wheat and barley, still staringly green amidst the general grey, small groups of garden trees, groves of poplar, farm-houses, and small knobly ridges, while the dreary mohammedan graveyard stands out sharply and obtrusively in the evening sunshine. immediately below us lies a chaos of quadrangular houses of stone or mud, with wooden balconies and verandahs, interrupted only by the main street and the lanes branching out of it. on the point of a rock to the east is seen a monastery, for which a lama gave the name of semo-gungma. semo-yogma stands in the palace itself. the temple hall here is called diva, and the two principal images guru and sakya-tubpa, that is, buddha. the portal of the palace with its pillars has a very picturesque effect. through this portal you enter a long, dark, paved entrance and then pass up a stone staircase and through gloomy passages and corridors, with small offshoots running up to balcony windows; in the interior, however, you roam about through halls all equally dark. no one dwells now in this phantom castle, which fancy might easily make the scene of the most extravagant ghost stories. only pigeons, which remain for ever young among the old time-worn monuments, coo out their contentment and cheerfulness (illustrations , , , ). still the palace, in spite of its decay, looks down with royal pride on the town far below, with its industry and commercial activity, and on this central point on the road between turkestan and india. the wind sweeps freely over its roof, its flat terraces, and breastwork with prayer strips flapping and beating against their sticks. a labyrinth of steep lanes lead up to it. wherever one turns, the eye falls on some picturesque bit: whole rows of _chhortens_, one of which is vaulted over the road, small temples and lama houses, huts and walls. [illustration: . monuments to stoliczka and dalgleish, leh.] on the hill behind captain patterson's bungalow lies a burial-ground with the graves of five europeans: the names stolicza and dalgleish especially attract our attention. over stolicza's grave a grand monument has been erected. the inscription on a tablet in front informs us that he was born in june and died in june at murgoo, near the karakorum pass. the indian government erected the memorial in as a mark of respect and gratitude for the service which stolicza had rendered during the journey of forsyth's embassy. the same inscription is repeated on the other side in latin. dalgleish's tombstone is simpler, but is also adorned with a tablet of cast-iron. he was born in and was murdered on the karakorum pass in . both terminated their life pilgrimage in the same country high above the rest of the world, and both sleep their last sleep under the same poplars and willows. now the evening sun gilded the mountain crests, reddish-yellow light fell on the graves and the trunks of the poplars, a gentle wind murmured softly through the tree-tops, and spoke in a melancholy whisper of the vanity of all things; and a short time later, when the lamps in the government buildings had been lighted, champagne corks popped at the farewell dinner given by captain patterson to another pilgrim who had not yet ended his lonely wanderings through the wide wastes of asia (illustration ). chapter v the start for tibet the time at leh passed quickly, as we were working at high pressure, and the result of our efforts was a splendid caravan in excellent order for the march. robert and muhamed isa seemed to be infected by my eagerness to start, for they worked from morning to night and saw that every one did his duty. i took leave of captain patterson, who had helped us in so many ways, and on august the loads of the second great caravan stood in pairs in the outer yard, and had only to be lifted on to the pack-saddles of the horses. muhamed isa started at four o'clock next morning, and i followed a few hours later with robert and manuel, four riding horses, and nine horses for our baggage. hajji nazer shah and his sons, our numerous purveyors, the officials and pundits of the town, and many others, had assembled to see us off, and sent us on our way with kind wishes and endless "salaams" and "joles." [illustration: . religious objects from sanskar.] [illustration: . images of gods. a miniature chhorten on the right. holy books, temple vessels. on either side of the small altar-table wooden blocks with which the holy books are printed.] a crowd of beggars escorted us along the main street, the merchant mohanlal bowed to us from the steps of his house, and we passed through the gate of the town into the lanes of the suburbs. at the first turn the horse which carried my boxes of articles for daily use became tired of his burden and got rid of it at once. they were put on another horse, which seemed quieter and carried them as far as the mohammedan burial-ground, when he, too, had enough of them, shied, broke loose, disappeared among some _chhortens_, and flung the boxes so violently to the ground that it was a marvel that they did not fly to pieces among the pebbles and blocks of stone. the jade got clear of all the ropes in a second, and galloped, with the pack-saddle dragging and dancing behind him, among the tombs in which the mohammedans sleep. that the boxes might not be quite destroyed we hired a quiet horse for the day. this is always the way at first, before the animals have got used to their loads and pack-saddles. here a couple of buckets rattle on the top of a load, there the handle of a _yakdan_, or, again, a pair of tent-poles jolt up and down and knock together at every step. the rest in the stable had made the horses nervous, the fragrant trusses of juicy clover had made them sleek and fat, strong, lively, and ready to dance along the road. every horse had now to be led by a man, and at length we came to the open country, and our companions left us one after another, the last to say farewell being the excellent, noble-hearted mr. peter. then we went down from leh past innumerable _mani ringmos_ and through narrow gullies between small rocky ridges, and so drew near to the indus again. a rocky promontory was passed, then another close to a branch of the river, and then shey came in sight with its small monastery on a point of rock. the road runs through the village, over canals by miniature stone bridges, over grassy meads and ripening cornfields; here and there lies a swamp formed by overflowing irrigation water. to our left rise granitic rocks, their spurs and projections ground down and polished by wind and water. after we had lost sight of the river and ridden through the village, where the people almost frightened our horses to death with their drums and pipes, we found ourselves in front of the monastery tikze on a commanding rock, with the village tikze and its fields and gardens at the foot. the tents were already pitched in a clump of willows. the highway and its canal ran past it, and here stood our mules and horses tethered in a long row before bundles of fresh grass. the puppies were released immediately; their basket was already too small for them; they grew visibly, could bite hard, and began already to guard my tent--barking furiously when they smelled anything suspicious. barely half an hour after the camp is set in order comes manuel with my tea and cakes. he is rather sore after his day's ride, and looks dreadfully solemn, dark-brown and shiny; he is darker than usual when he is cross. robert is delighted with his horse, and i have every reason to be content with mine--a tall, strong, dapple-grey animal from yarkand, which held out for four months and died on christmas eve. at tikze we are much lower than at leh, and then we begin to mount up again. the day had been very hot, and even at nine o'clock the thermometer stood at ° f. muhamed isa is responsible for my twenty boxes; he has stacked them up in a round pile and covered them with a large tent, and here he has fixed his quarters with a few other chief ladakis. robert and manuel have a tent in common; the kitchen, with its constantly smoking fire, is in the open air; and the rest of the men sleep outside (illustration ). now the new journey had begun in real earnest--we were on the way to the forbidden land! i had had to fight my way through a long succession of difficulties and hindrances before reaching this day. batum was in open insurrection; in asia minor sultan abdul hamid had provided me with a guard of six mounted men to protect me from robbers; in teheran revolutionary tendencies were even then apparent; in seistan the plague was raging fearfully; and in india i encountered the worst obstacle of all--an absolute prohibition to proceed into tibet from that side. then followed all the unnecessary complications in srinagar and on the way to leh, and the stupid affair of the chinese passport which i did not need, but had so much trouble to obtain. does not this remind one of the tale of the knight who had to overcome a lot of hideous monsters and hindrances before he reached the princess on the summit of the crystal mountain? but now at last i had left behind me all bureaucrats, politicians, and disturbers of the peace; now every day would take us farther and farther from the last telegraph station, leh, and then we could enjoy complete freedom. [illustration: . tikze-gompa, monastery in ladak. sketch by the author.] on august , exactly twenty-one years had elapsed since i started on my first journey in asia. what would the next year bring? the culminating point of my career or a retrogression? would opposition still continue, or would the tibetans prove more friendly than europeans? i knew not: the future lay before me as indistinct as the indus valley, where dark masses of cloud swept over the mountains and the rain beat on the tent canvas. we let it rain, and rejoiced to think that, if the precipitation extended far over tibet, the pasturage would be richer and the springs would flow more freely. after a short march we come to the village rambirpur, reconstructed thirty years ago, and to the right of the road the small monastery stagna-gompa stands on a pinnacle of rock. on the left bank is seen the village changa, and a little higher up the well-hidden, small, and narrow valley where the famous temple of hemis lies concealed. thunder rumbles over its mountains as though the gods stormed angrily on their altar platform. at a corner where a small, shaky, wooden bridge spans the indus, stand some more long _mani ringmos_; they are covered with well-cut stone flags, on which the letters are already overgrown by a weathered crust, and stand out dark against the lighter chiselled intervals. former kings of ladak caused them to be constructed as a salve to their consciences, and to gain credit in a future life. they are a substitute for the work of the lamas; every one is at liberty to propitiate the divine powers by this means. thus the monks acquire a revenue, and every one, travellers and caravans included, rejoices at the pious act, while the stone slabs speak in their silent language of bad consciences and manifold sins, in rain and sunshine, by day and night, in cold and heat. now we leave the indus for good and all. "farewell, thou proud stream, rich in historical memories. though it costs me my life i will find some day thy source over yonder in the forbidden land," i thought, as, accompanied by _jamadars_ and _chaprassis_ of the kashmir state and some of my men, i turned the rocky corner into the side valley through which the road runs up past the monasteries karu and chimre to the chang-la pass. the road now becomes worse; every day's journey it deteriorates, sometimes changing into an almost imperceptible footpath, and at last it disappears altogether. the great road to lhasa along the indus and to gartok was closed to us. our company makes a grand show; a sheep is killed every evening, and the pots boil over the fires in the centre of the various groups which have combined into messes. i make no attempt to learn the names of my new servants; coolies and villagers are always moving about among them, coming and going, and i scarcely know which are my own men. it must be so in the meantime; the time will soon come for me to know them better, when all outside elements are removed. a melancholy air is heard in the darkness; it is the night watchmen who sing to keep themselves awake. at chimre we are at a height of , feet, and we ascend all the day's journey to singrul, where we find ourselves , feet above sea-level. the road keeps for the most part to the stony barren slopes on the left side of the valley, while the brook flows nearer to the right side, where bright green fields appropriate so much of its water that little is left to flow out of the valley. a path to nubra follows a side valley on the right. in sakti we wander in a labyrinth of narrow passages and alleys between huts and _chhortens_, boulders and walls, _mani ringmos_ and terraces which support cultivated patches laid out in horizontal steps. above us is seen the chang-la, and we are quite giddy at the sight of the road that ascends to it with a tremendously steep gradient (illustration ). tagar is the last village before the pass; here i had halted twice before. its wheat-fields extend a little distance further up the valley and then contract to a wedge-shaped point, continued by a narrow winding strip of grass along the central channel of the valley bottom. the sections of the caravan climb higher and higher, some are already at the goal, and we have overtaken the hindermost. the path runs up steeply between huge blocks of grey granite, so that our ladakis have to take care that the boxes do not get banged. [illustration: . masked lamas in the court of ceremonies in hemis-gompa (ladak).] [illustration: . group of masked lamas in hemis-gompa. (taken by a photographer in srinagar.)] after four-and-a-half hours we are up on the small terrace-shaped halting-place, singrul, and the bluish-grey smoke of the fires of yak dung floats over the soil, scantily carpeted with grass and traversed by a rivulet of crystal clear water. an alpine, cold, barren landscape surrounds us. muhamed isa sits enthroned like a pasha in his fortress of boxes and provender sacks, the usual sheep is killed and cut up, and is then thrown into the general cauldron, stomach, entrails, and everything. the head and feet are broiled before the fire on stones. some of the men take possession of the skin, and spend the evening in rubbing it and making it soft--probably it is for use as bed furniture. the two rajputs sit a little apart from the rest by their own small cooking-pot, and, i perceive, make a very light meal of spinach, bread, and rice. the rarefied air seems to be of no consequence to them, nor the cold; the puppies, on the other hand, were very down-hearted when the thermometer in the evening marked only °; they howled piteously, and, crawling under my tent bed, rolled themselves up together. the four coolies, who carried the boat, went beyond singrul to a cave, where, they said, they would be more protected from the cold in the night. towards evening the brook rose, and one of its arms made straight for my tent, which had to be protected by a temporary dam. the ladakis sat till late and sipped their red tea mixed with butter, and at many points reddish-yellow fires illumined the night. the temperature fell to °, and it was really very uncomfortable in this high, raw region where the wind had free play and the sun had not yet got the better of the snow; rather large snowdrifts still lay on the ground, and clear streamlets trickled down from their edges, juicy moss and grass sprouting up beside them and forming a fine grass lawn. accustomed to the heat of india, we feel the cold particularly severe on rising, when the snow particles beat like grains of sugar against the tent. a bluish-black raven sits on a stone, sometimes flying down to examine what we have left, snaps his beak loudly, and seems contented with his morning's catch. slowly and heavily the horses and mules zigzag up through the grey granitic detritus and round the boulders on the way. our troop is considerably strengthened, for the animals need help on the acclivities and the loads easily get out of place. to climb up these heights with loads on their backs, as our coolies do, they must have especially constructed lungs, good chests, and strong hearts. we mount higher and higher to the pass in the mighty range which separates the indus from its great affluent, the shyok. we still see the green fields down below at the bottom of the valley, the bird's-eye view becomes more and more like a map, and the landscape behind us grows more distinct and extensive. sharply marked orographical lines indicate the direction of the indus valley, and the great range on its farther side rises darkly before us and covered with snow. fifty mules from rudok laden with salt threaten to block our way, but are driven to one side by our men. from time to time we call a halt to allow our animals to recover their wind. then we go on a little farther; the rests become more frequent; the horses puff and pant and distend their nostrils. and then on again to the next halt. at last we were at the top, , feet above sea-level. certainly the thermometer marked . °, but the wind was in the north, thick clouds obscured the sky, sweeping over the crest of the mountains, and soon hail came down, slashing us like a whip. on the summit of the chang-la pass stands a stone heap with sacrificial poles, which are decked with ragged streamers torn by the wind. all these streamers bear in tibetan characters the prayer of the six sacred letters; coloured or faded, they flap and rustle in the wind as if they would drive the prayers up higher and higher by unknown paths to the ears of the gods. horns and skulls adorn this elevated altar. here all our ladakis in turn come to a halt, raise a cheer, dance, swing their caps, and rejoice at having reached this critical point without mishap. [illustration: . from singrul, looking towards the pass, chang-la. sketch by the author.] [illustration: . view from sultak, august , . sketch by the author.] [illustration: . drugub. sketch by the author.] the descent, however, on the eastern side of the pass, is still worse: nothing but detritus, boulders of all sizes, sharp-edged pieces of granite, and between a muddy paste in which our horses flop and splash at every step. sometimes the path is more like a rough staircase, where you might fall headlong, but our horses are sure-footed and accustomed to bad ground. it is cold, dreary, raw, and grey--how different from the warm, sunny country we have so lately left! at the foot of the descent from the actual pass old hiraman, a friend of mine on former journeys, was waiting. the old man was just the same, perhaps a little more wrinkled than before (illustration ). after a night with . degrees of frost we rode on from sultak by a small lake dammed up by moraines, and down a valley full of detritus. now the puppies had to run alone, and they did the short day's march without complaining, but they were heartily sorry for their exhibition of strength when we got to drugub, and were so tired out that they omitted to ferret about as usual (illustrations , ). drugub lies at a height of , feet, and on the short way to tankse we ascended only feet; from there, however, the route again ascends slowly until at length one reaches the great open plateau, where the differences of elevation show little alteration in a month of marching. beyond tankse a massive, finely sculptured mountain rises in the background; deep valleys open on either side; through the southern runs a road to gartok, which i was to follow later; through the northern, the road to muglib, which i had travelled by before; this i was to take now, and for two days keep to roads i was well acquainted with. the tankse river has a fair volume of water; we crossed it at a broad, shallow place, where the fall is very slight. the water is almost quite clear, of a bluish-green tinge, and glides noiselessly as oil over its gravelly bed. the whole village was on foot, and watched the pitching of my tent in a small clump of willows, which had resolutely struggled against the elevated situation and severe climate. these, however, were the last trees, worthy the name, that we saw for half a year. we rested a day in tankse, and settled with the men who were waiting with their thirty hired horses. on the early marches one gains all kinds of experience, and now we had to make one or two alterations. muhamed isa set up for the caravan men a large tibetan tent with a broad opening in the roof to let out the smoke. the sacks of provender were to form round the inside a protection against the wind, and at the same time be themselves sheltered from rain. furthermore, roasted meal, spices, and tobacco were purchased for the men, and all the barley that could be procured in the neighbourhood. the headmen of tankse and pobrang offered to accompany us for some days on a pleasure trip, and to see that everything went on smoothly. late in the evening a bright fire in muhamed isa's camp lighted up the surroundings, and the noisy music sounded more merrily than ever. the caravan men held a jollification on taking leave of civilization, and had invited the notables of the village and the dancing-girls to tea and music. it was a very jovial party; the barley beer, _chang_, ladak's national drink, raised the spirits of guests and hosts, and as i went to sleep i heard female voices and the notes of flutes and bagpipes echoed back from the mountain flanks. on august we were again on the move; at our departure all tankse turned out, besides the natives who had come in from the surrounding villages, and all sent us off with friendly cries of "jole" and "a good journey." here i commenced to draw my first map-sheet, being the first stroke of a work that for more than two years kept my attention riveted on every mile of the route and on every object that could be seen from it. at the same time the collections of rock specimens was begun. specimen no. was of crystalline schists _in situ_, while the bottom of the valley was still covered with large and small blocks of granite. [illustration: . my old friend hiraman from ladak.] [illustration: . chiefs of tankse and pobrang; muhamed isa, the caravan leader, in the background.] we left the tankse monastery on its rocky spur to our left, and henceforth kept to the right side of the muglib brook, now at the foot of the mountain and past its cones of detritus, now over easily recognizable denudation terraces, and again along the bank of the brook, where here and there we came across a miniature meadow. down in the valley at muglib there is good rich pasture; close by the brook the meadows are swampy and treacherous, but higher up the soil is sandy, and even thistles crop up among the grass. here our animals grazed and were hurriedly inspected. sonam tsering had to give a report of his stewardship, which he had managed admirably, and our mules looked fat and plump after grazing for five days on the open pastures of muglib. our camp was now for the first time fully mustered, and with its four tents and its various groups of men seated round, the camp-fires had a very imposing appearance. horses neigh and mules bray on all sides, the men remove the pack-saddles to see that the under side is smooth and cannot rub and cause sores, the animals are groomed and fed, their hoofs are examined and re-shod, if the old shoes are worn out on the stony ground. the village of muglib consists of three wretched huts, and its twelve inhabitants cultivate barley and peas. the barley harvest was expected in ten days, but the peas were still in full blossom, and would not be ripe before the frosts set in. they are then used as horse fodder while they are still soft and green. i asked some muglib men what they did in winter. "sleep and freeze," they answered. next morning the sun had not risen when a shouting and jingling, loud voices, and the stamping and neighing of horses woke me out of sleep--the heavy cavalry was marching off under the command of muhamed isa. then the puppies discovered that my bed was a grand playground, and left me no more peace. manuel's fire in the kitchen began to crackle, and a fragrant steam gave notice that there were mutton cutlets for breakfast. i was accustomed to camp life, but i had never been so comfortable before and had never had so large and perfect a caravan. beyond the village we crossed the brook six times; it is quite small, and seems always to contain the same amount of water, for it comes from a small lake, where i had encamped on the eastern shore in december . now we followed the northern shore over many very difficult mountain spurs of black schist and quartzite; the ground is covered with gravel, sometimes with small patches of coarse grass, and then again is very sandy. sometimes torrents of clear water gush down from the mountains, where huge fan-shaped cones of dejection descend from the mouths of ravines to the valley. a heap of stones bedecked with flags and a _mani_ mark the point of hydrographical importance, which is the watershed between the panggong-tso and the indian ocean; here the height is , feet. from this point the valley descends slowly to the lake, and we ride in the channel through which at one time it discharged itself into the shyok and indus. now, the panggong-tso is cut off from the indus and consequently contains salt water. behind a spur on the right side of the valley which hides the view, the western extremity of the lake peeped out, and a few minutes later a grand panorama unfolded itself before us; the great bluish-green lake between its colossal cliffs. five years before i had skirted its northern shore with my camels, my old sturdy veterans, which caused so much excitement in ladak that there i was still called the camel lord. just where the pobrang river enters, forming a flat delta full of lagoons, we halted for a while to control our determination of heights by a boiling-point observation, and then rode along the river, which in was choked up with drifted sand, but was now full of water. when the drainage water fails in winter, the bed is at once filled up with sand, but the dunes are swept away again as soon as the spring flood sets in. lukkong is a small village with a couple of stone huts, a field of barley, a _chhorten_, a meadow, and a stunted mountain poplar. from this place the road runs north and north-east through the broad pebble-strewn valley, where we have a foretaste of the flatter conformation of the tibetan plateau. we are in a region which has no drainage to the sea; we have already crossed three important thresholds, the zoji-la, the chang-la, and, to-day, the small panggong pass, but we have still two great passes in front of us before we finally enter the wide expanses of the tableland. beyond the first we must again descend to the basin of the indus, behind the second lies an enclosed hydrographical area which we must traverse in order to reach the country draining to the ocean through the upper valleys of the brahmaputra. from a small pass with a few stone cairns we had a surprising view over a valley which ran parallel to the one we had just travelled through, and was full of green meadows. many tents and camp-fires were seen above and below the village pobrang, and the meadow land was dotted over with dark caravan animals, for mine was not the only party that was paying pobrang a flying visit: an english _shikari_, too, was there, a mr. lucas tooth, who had been hunting in the mountains and was very well pleased with his collection of antelope horns. we talked in my tent till midnight, and he was the last european i saw for a space of more than two years. chapter vi to the edge of the tibetan tableland we had another day's rest in pobrang; there we found the last good pasture land on the way to tibet; it was, moreover, important that men and horses should gradually become accustomed to the increasing elevation. i had also received my letters from sweden and india, and was a long time occupied with my letters and answers; the post-carrier was to return to leh on the next day. but it was arranged that a mail-runner should be sent after us from there. from pobrang he was to have a companion, for the country is infested with wolves. after the road came to an end the track of the caravan could easily be traced, and it was agreed that we should pile up small heaps of stones at doubtful points for the guidance of the letter-carriers. however, we never heard anything of them, and i do not know how they prospered. pobrang, then, was the last point where i was in contact with the outer world. here we bought thirty sheep for fresh meat; we thought we should not want more, as the chase would yield us some supply, and some of my men were clever sportsmen. at muhamed isa's suggestion, sonam tsering's pay was raised to rupees, and he was appointed caravan-bashi of the mules. old guffaru was leader of the horse caravan, and tsering, the short name we gave to muhamed isa's brother, had the management of the small caravan which transported my daily necessaries, robert's tent, and the cooking outfit. the _jamadar_, rahman khan, who had been my leader in , and had come with us from lamayuru, was discharged and well paid, and also the two _chaprassis_, razul and ishe. old hiraman insisted on keeping us company for another day's journey, while the _numberdar_ of pobrang and the _kotidar_ of tankse were to remain with us, as already mentioned, up to the plateau. thus our party was gradually lessened; last of all the hired horses and their ten attendants would leave us. i consulted every evening with muhamed isa; robert, too, was generally present, for he was the first of all my servants, conducted the business of the caravan, and kept accounts of the expenditure. we now resolved that some of the hired yaks should carry the boat, and that the last of the coolies should turn back. then we took stock of our provisions: the maize and barley must last for days; the meal for our thirty men would hold out for days, and with economy for three months; the rice would not be all consumed for four or five months. but, however carefully calculations and estimates may be made, it is a risky, adventurous undertaking to cross the whole of tibet, and the calculations seldom turn out correct. one may be sure of losing animals wholesale; matters may, too, come to a crisis, when the loads become too heavy for the surviving animals, and part of the baggage must be sacrificed. it may also happen that the provender diminishes more quickly than the animals, and then the latter must put up with smaller feeds, and at last find what nourishment they can on the ground. my chief anxiety now was to maintain the caravan until we might meet the first nomads to the north of bogtsang-tsangpo; had we good fortune so far, we should manage to get on by some means or other. i now drew up a provisional plan of campaign, the chief point being that it was based, not on time and distances, but on pasturage and water. the length of a day's march was, then, fixed by the occurrence of these indispensable resources, and even a march of one hour in the day was enough when it led to tolerable pasture. where, however, the land was quite barren we might travel any distance we liked. no one had any suspicion of my actual plans; i meant to reveal all only when the last men and their horses had left us. if i let anything transpire now, my plan would be made known in ladak, and would reach the ears of my opponents. then, as so often before, a merciless "thus far and no farther" would have sounded in my ears even at bogtsang-tsangpo. on august we left pobrang, the last village, and rode up the valley. fine tame yaks were sunning themselves on small grassy patches. to the left stretches out the ldata valley, with good pasture lands in its lower part. seen from a flat hilly rise with a couple of stone cairns, the country to the east assumes more of a tibetan character, with low, rounded forms, and small, slightly marked open valleys and dried-up river beds. everything seems dreary and barren; small hard _yapkak_ plants are alone visible. the ascent is extremely slow, but the path is still easily perceptible in the tiring gravel or sand. not a drop of water is to be seen. the weather is quite tibetan: burning hot when the atmosphere is calm and clear; raw and cold when the sun is overcast, and the wind envelops horse and rider in sand. at lunkar we encamped near some deserted stone huts. a couple of hundred yards from us were grazing a pair of _kulans_ or _kiangs_, as the wild asses are called in tibet and ladak. nine fires lighted up the darkness, and snow hissed among the firebrands, continuing to fall, so the night watchman reported, till early morning. consequently in the morning was heard the crunching sound caused by footfalls on frozen snow; my tent bulged inwards under the burden, while all the landscape disappeared under a white wintry mantle, and dense clouds hung over all the crests. manuel and ganpat sing had never seen snow falling before; they appeared extremely astonished and curious, and looked very cold in their _pustins_ or yarkand fur coats. the puppies were highly displeased at this new occurrence, and barked at the snow in their disgust till they found that it was no use. they also disapproved of our impudence in adding two large dogs from pobrang to the caravan. another reinforcement consisted of ten goats to supply me with milk, which were obtained in lunkar. we were all of a sudden transferred from the summer that reigned in tankse to midwinter on the heights, and received a foretaste of the cold of the neighbouring tibet. we saw little more of the summer this year--pamzel might allow us to take a last farewell of the warm season. the main caravan was still there when i left my tent, and we started all together. old hiraman took leave of us, and rode back down to his hut. the sun came out, and all around became dazzling white; even the ladakis were forced to protect their eyes with a tuft of wool, which they fixed in front under their caps, and they looked very comical with this by no means becoming frontal decoration. the long train now wound up to the pass like a huge black snake. the forty sheep and goats with their drivers led the way, but were soon overtaken by the mules, which now marched all day at the front. next came muhamed isa with the horse caravan, and at his heels the hired horses with their leaders, and the yaks belonging to them. in their tracks followed our seven hired yaks, which carried the heaviest boxes and the boat; they did their work very well, and were first-rate animals--great black beasts; they did not seem to be affected by the high elevation of the pass, nor to feel the weight of the boxes; and kept up with the rear of the caravan all day long. behind the yaks i rode, with robert, the _kotidar_ of tankse, and a runner who held my horse when i dismounted to search for rock specimens, take bearings, or make sketches. last of all came tsering and manuel with my small caravan (illustration ). we had not ridden far when we came up with the horse entered as number on the list; it came from sanskar, and cost rupees. it had eaten nothing the day before, and was evidently on its last legs, for its leader could only make it stumble on a step at a time. it bled from the nostrils, its belly was swollen, and its muzzle was cold--all bad symptoms. it seemed to suffer from giddiness, and at last fell down and could not be induced to get up again. after a time, however, it raised itself up with a last effort, but rolled over again on the other side. we saw it from the pass still lying motionless, its attendant beside it; the latter overtook us later and reported that there was nothing to be done with the horse. so it was numbered in the list of the lost, and we decided that the _kotidar_ might keep it, should it unexpectedly recover. this pass, the marsimik-la, had looked quite easy from our camping-ground at lunkar, but now we found that it would be a very serious matter to cross it. the horses had to stop and recover their wind every five minutes at first, then every minute and a half, and at last they could not go more than a minute at a time, and then must stand still for as long. the snow now lay a foot deep, and the caravan marked out a coal-black winding line through the white expanse. curious yellowish-grey and violet clouds rose above the mighty snowy range to the south and west. when the sun was visible our faces and hands were scorched; but when it was hidden behind clouds the day was pleasant, and the glitter of the sunshine on the snow, so trying to the eyes, was extinguished by the shadows of the clouds. the caravan in front of us seems hardly to move, so slow is the progress in this highly rarefied air. still it does move onwards, as we can tell by the constant shouts of the drivers. some of the ladakis sing together to lighten the toil of themselves and the animals. they are as cheerful and contented as though they were going to a harvest festival. from time to time muhamed isa's voice growls forth like rolls of thunder, shouting out _khavass_ and _khabardar_. we see him standing up above at the last turn up to the pass, and hear him distributing his orders from the centre of the semicircle now formed by the caravan. his sharp, practised eye takes in every horse; if a load threatens to slip down he calls up the nearest man; if there is any crowding, or a gap in the ranks, he notices it immediately. with his hands in his pockets and his pipe in his mouth he goes up quietly on foot over the marsimik-la. [illustration: . the way to the marsimik-la.] [illustration: . spanglung.] now the first column of mules reaches the ridge of the pass. a joyous shout goes out over the mountains; it is heard clearly and distinctly, but is indescribably thin, cold, and toneless, and at once dies away without awaking the feeblest echo; the air is too rare for that. every detachment as it comes to the pass raises the same shout of triumph. with a feeling of relief i watch the last horse disappear below the white outline of the pass summit. at the highest point i made, as usual, a fairly long halt to take observations, while tsering's detachment filed past me, and the yaks tramped, grunting, over the marsimik-la. the absolute height was , feet, the sky was partly clear, and it was as warm as in an oven, though the temperature had risen only to . °. before we began to move again the tail of the procession had vanished behind the point of rock which marks the entrance to the valley that leads downwards. the fallen horse lay lonely and forlorn, a dark spot in the snow. it was the offering the gods of the pass had exacted as toll. eastwards the high range appears more uniform, as though planed down, and no prominent summit rises above the crest. the descent from the pass is bestrewn with pebbles and small blocks, which may be said to swim in mud. the snow thaws, and a continual trickling murmuring sound is heard. the route of the caravan is marked by an endless succession of small deep ditches filled with water, and meandering in dark lines through the white surface. numerous trickles of water collect into a rivulet, which rushes down among the stones. where the ground is level a swamp is formed, dome-shaped clumps of moss render it uneven, and between these stand pools, often of deceptive depth. for a long distance we follow a perfectly bare slope, and we are almost impatient at descending so slowly to the layers of denser air. at length we go down steeply into the valley over a disagreeable slope of detritus crossed by a number of small water channels. on the left opens a large trough-shaped valley, where we can perceive in the upper part three snow-covered glacier tongues with fissures in the ice-front standing out clearly. from these a large brook issues, which unites with the brook from the pass into a greenish-grey foaming river. from their confluence we see the whole length of the valley which we must traverse to reach our camping-ground. it is deeply and boldly eroded; the foaming river occupies the whole of its bottom. we must therefore keep to the steep banks on the right side, to feet above the river. here the ground is detestable--coarse, sharp pebbles forming the edge of a terrace--and as we have to ride along the outer edge we should roll down the slope and break our necks if the horses made a false step. here one of the pobrang dogs came towards us; he made a wide detour to avoid us, and did not once look at us when we tried to coax him. probably he suspected that we were on the way to inhospitable regions, and thought he could lead a more peaceful life at the miserable huts of pobrang. at length we came down over swampy moss-grown rubbish mounds to the camp, which was situated just where our valley ran at an angle into the spanglung valley, in the midst of lofty mountains where nothing could be heard but the monotonous roar of the two streams. wearied out, we threw ourselves into our tents and enjoyed the pleasant heat of the brazier. bikom sing went up the mountains and shot at an antelope, but missed. muhamed isa said jestingly that hitherto the rajputs had done no more than the puppies. he did not include them at all in our muster roll; in his opinion they did nothing but consume our stores of meal and rice; but he was unjust in condemning them before they had had an opportunity of distinguishing themselves (illustrations , ). the moon shone, a cold pale sickle, over the mountains, and we were glad to get to rest; after such a day the night comes as a friend and deliverer. our route to pamzal continued downwards along the spanglung valley, sometimes about feet above the bottom, where some snowdrifts resisted the warmth of the short summer, sometimes on sharply defined terraces forming several steps. the road was bad, for the whole country was full of detritus. on the right opened the lungnak valley with small snowy peaks in the background, and before us towered the great dark range lying on the north side of the chang-chenmo valley. the manlung valley runs up from the south-west, and its stream contributes a large addition of muddy water to our valley. [illustration: . spanglung.] [illustration: . camp near pamzal.] [illustration: . the chang-chenmo and the way to gogra.] as we advanced farther, other grand snowy mountains and jagged peaks came into view--these are the heights that enclose the chang-chenmo valley. at last the path turned into this valley, and we bivouacked on the small strip of vegetation on the left bank of the river (illustration ). towards evening the river rose considerably; when we measured its volume next morning we found the discharge to be cubic feet a second, and large strips of the stony bed were still wet from the high-water in the night. in summer one cannot ride through the river at this place; then it rolls enormous floods down to the indus. its name is kograng-sanspo, while chang-chenmo denotes rather the whole country around. the ladakis said that the summer would here last twenty days longer; after that the nights would become cold but the days remain fairly warm; then, however, winter would come with ever-increasing rigour. eastwards five days' march brings one to the pass lanak-la, which belongs to the colossal ridge of the karakorum mountains running right through tibet. some english travellers have crossed this pass. to me the road was closed. i had promised lord minto not to act against the wishes of the english government, but i should like to know who could have prevented me now. on august we left this pleasant, quiet spot, and now it would be long before we came again to so low a level. we were constantly increasing the distance from roads and human dwellings; for some time yet we were to remain in known country, and then the vast unknown land in the east awaited us. the day was fair and warm when i set out with my usual companions, robert, rehim ali, one of our mohammedans, and the two drivers from tankse and pobrang. the terrace on the left bank, on which we ride, is washed by a branch of the stream which is very muddy, forms small rapids, and usually divides into several arms. the whole of the valley bottom is grey with rubbish; the river water has much the same colour, and therefore is not conspicuous in the landscape. there is no living thing anywhere around, neither tame yaks nor wild animals, and not a sign of men. but a faintly beaten footpath shows that mountaineers occasionally wander here. it guides us down to the river again, at a point opposite the narrow, deep, and boldly sculptured transverse valley kadsung with the usual terraces, from which emerges a brook of clear, blue, beautifully fresh water and mingles with, and is lost in, the dirty grey water of the main stream. here the path again turns upwards and affords a short cut over a small pass to our camp for the night. we could see at a distance that in the middle of the steep slope where the path runs there had been a landslip, and a deep fissure formed which we could hardly cross until some alterations had been effected. a troop of men were sent in advance with spades and pick-axes, and meanwhile the various sections of the caravan collected together on the bank. some men examined the ford on foot, for here we had to cross the main stream. the water certainly foamed up to the houghs of the horses as they were led over in long files, but the depth was nowhere more than ½ feet, and all came safely to the other bank. the yaks evidently liked the bath; they waded through the water as slowly as possible, and my boat was poised over its own element without touching it. the most difficult task was to get the sheep and goats over. the whole flock was driven to the water's edge, and some were seized by the horns and thrown into the river, though they struggled frantically. but the rest found the situation too disagreeable, turned tail and made a wild dash up the nearest terrace. again they were all driven to the bank, and were there shut in by a line of men and pushed into the water, and as the first had now made up their minds to wade, the others followed and bravely struggled against the current (illustrations , ). immediately after, the caravan was seen labouring up the steep slope; it was a pretty sight, but not without danger. the sheep did not keep to the path, but climbed about in search of food. [illustration: . muhamed isa in the river chang-chenmo near pamzal.] a couple of minutes after the little pass mankogh-la is left behind there is a bird's-eye view of the valley of the kograng-sanspol, at any rate of the upper part, which we had followed from pamzal; it makes here a sharp turn, and we came over hills and spurs down again to the river-bank. the camping-ground, which has fairly good pasturage, is called gogra. from here two valleys run up to the main crest of the karakorum range, the chang-lung-barma and the chang-lung-yogma or "the middle and the lower north valleys." both valleys would take us to a nasty pass; we chose the second. we must get over somehow or other, and at dangerous places the most valuable baggage could, if necessary, be carried by men. with his cap on the side of his head, his fur coat thrown negligently over his shoulders, and the inevitable pipe in his mouth, muhamed isa stalked like a field-marshal through the smoke of the camp-fires and issued his orders for the next day's march. none of our men, indeed, knew the road, but from their uncertain reports we could gather that we had a nasty bit of work before us. we did not reach a much greater height during our march, but we had to go up and down over so many hills and steep declivities that the day's journey was as trying as though we had surmounted a number of passes. the river was now considerably smaller, as many of its tributaries had been left behind. nevertheless, it was more troublesome to ford than before, for the whole volume of water was confined to one channel, and the fall was greater. it seemed hopeless to drive the sheep into the cold water where the current would carry them away. the shepherds were at a loss what to do when i lost sight of them, and i do not know how the passage was accomplished; but they came across somehow, for they reached the camp all safe and sound. the dark-green schists in this neighbourhood are partly much weathered, partly hard and untouched. a large cairn stands on a hill, and one of the men asserted that an old road to yarkand ran past here, while guffaru affirmed that some, at least, of forsyth's companions travelled through this country. the headwaters of the river flow from a large valley to the north-west, its background formed by snow mountains, while we follow the heights above a side valley, which, seen from above, has a grand and almost awesome aspect. a small, clear brook murmurs melodiously along the bottom. then again we descend over soft red dust and rubbish. small cairns mark the route, and guide us down to the bottom of the valley, here very narrow, and confined between steep, dark schistose rocks. a little higher up the rocky walls are perpendicular, and the river finds its way through a dark gorge. we therefore have to climb up the right side to avoid the difficult spots, and the ascent is very steep. here the caravan came to a standstill; muhamed isa's gigantic form was seen at the worst point of the ascent. every horse had to be assisted up by five men. one tugged at the bridle, two supported the load at either side to prevent it slipping off, and two pushed behind; as soon as somewhat easier ground was reached the baggage was put to rights and the cords tightened, and then the horse had to get along the track without help. in the chuta district, where we again find ourselves at the valley bottom, warm springs of sulphurous water rise out of the earth. one of them has built up a pyramid feet high, somewhat like a toad-stool; the water bubbles up from the centre of the crown, and drops down the sides, forming a circle of stalactites around. the water as it leaves the orifice has a temperature of ° f. another spring, which sends a jet of water right into the river, has a heat of only °. at many places on the bank and in the river-bed the water bubbles up with a simmering noise. after more rugged slopes of rubbish and loose yellow dust we arrived at last in the chang-lung-yogma valley, where the pasturage was very scanty. in the evening it snowed hard, and the valley was veiled in a mystic light, which was perhaps a faint reflexion of the moon. a couple of fires flashed out of the mist and lighted up the large tent of the ladakis. only the murmur of the brook broke the silence. suddenly, however, repeated shouts resounded through the stillness of the night--perhaps some horses had taken into their heads to stampede to more hospitable regions. [illustration: . rabsang, adul, tsering, and muhamed isa.] [illustration: . our horses at the karakorum.] we needed a day's rest in this camp, for before us was the high pass which forms a watershed between the indus and the isolated drainage of the plateau. muhamed isa and sonam tsering rode up the valley to reconnoitre, and, meanwhile, robert and i repacked my boxes amidst alternations of sunshine and snowfalls; winter clothing and furs were taken out, and the tent bed was put aside; henceforth my bed was to be made on the ground, on a foundation consisting of a waterproof sheet and a frieze rug; by this method it is much easier to get warm. on the last day of august the ascent was continued. the country was white with snow, but before noon the ground was clear again. i now rode a small, white, active ladak pony; it was sure-footed, and we were soon good friends. a small stone wall at a bend of the route shows that men have been here; but many years have probably elapsed since their visit, for there is no sign of a path or other indications of their presence. all is barren, yet it is evident that wild yaks have been here not long ago. muhamed isa set up three cairns at the mouth of a very small insignificant side-valley for the guidance of the expected post-runners. here we turned aside from the main valley. the contours of the mountains now become more rounded, the relative heights diminish, and the valleys are not so deeply excavated as on yesterday's ride. the rivulet, which we follow up to its source in the main ridge, is the last connected with the system of the indus, but still it is a child of the indus, and carries to the sea news of this elevated region. winter will soon chain up its waters, soon it will fall asleep in the cold and frost, until the sun calls it to life again in spring (illustration ). an old yak skull was set up on a rocky projection and grinned at us--another of muhamed isa's waymarks. there were several _yapkak_ plants, hard as wood, in a small hollow, but even this meagre forage was no longer to be despised. we therefore pitched our camp here at a height of , feet, or about feet higher than mont blanc. this camp was distinguished as no. , for we were now in a country beyond the range of topographical names. a huge stone pyramid was erected among the tents, for the men had nothing else to do while the animals were gnawing at the _yapkak_ stalks close by. chapter vii over the crest of the karakorum we had a hard day on september . the ground was white, and the sky had a threatening aspect, but a small blue strip to the south gave hopes of fine weather. we started early, and as i jumped into the saddle i saw the whole narrow valley filled with the various sections of the caravan. when i consigned my tent to its fate, that is, tsering and the hindus, our deserted camp-fires were still smoking, and the new cairn stood out black against the snow. we left camp no. with some excitement, for now we were approaching wild lands in real earnest, and were to cross a pass of the first rank, which none of my people was acquainted with, and of which we knew only that it was called chang-lung-yogma; it lies a little east of the pass marked on the large english map of north-east ladak, and, as far as i know, no european has yet made use of it. the terraces along the river bank gradually come to an end, and, where they do occur, they are only a couple of yards high, and disturbed by frequent landslips. our route runs to the north-east. in front of us appears a pure white saddle, now flooded with sunshine; we take it for the pass; but no, the mules, as shown by their tracks in the snow, have turned in another direction. the flanks on both sides consist of loose, extremely fine material, wet and crossed by clefts a foot deep. at the edge of some spurs these clefts run like the curved fissures of a glacier tongue. the ground is unstable; the slopes slip down and are displaced by their own weight, for they are soaked through, and there are no roots to hold the fine material; they are in a state of motion, and the gently rounded forms prevailing in the landscape are the result of this phenomenon. the silence of the desert reigns in this country where the feet of man have never wandered; only now and then are heard the warning shouts of the caravan men. not one of the animals is left behind, all goes on satisfactorily. may all this hard day's march pass fortunately! the valley becomes quite narrow, the water trickles out of the gravelly soil in quantities barely sufficient to form a brook. but even on this gravel the animals sink in the mud. at the foot of a trough leading up to a side-pass, which had led us astray, the caravan came to a halt, and an accessible passage was searched for. i rode forwards up innumerable zigzags, and stopped at every corner to take breath. muhamed isa reported that the true pass had been found, but i rode with robert up to a height rising above all the land around, to reconnoitre. the view from this point was far too striking to be sought merely for the purpose of orientation. above and behind the mountains in the foreground, some of them coal-black, appeared a white horizon and a jagged line of mighty himalayan peaks. a really magnificent landscape! the sky was almost clear; only here and there floated a few white clouds. down below us lay the small valley through which we had struggled so laboriously; here it looked ridiculously small, an insignificant drain in a world of gigantic mountains. some detachments of the caravan were still toiling up the narrow way, and the shouts and whistles of the men mounted up to us. the horizon was quite clear, not enveloped in haze, as it frequently was; its outlines were exceedingly sharply drawn; silver-white, sun-lighted summits towered up above and behind one another; generally the fields of eternal snow gleam in blue tints of varying intensity, now dull and now dark according to the angle of the slope in relation to the sun's altitude; now shade and light pass gradually and insensibly into each other, now they are sharply defined. here physical laws work out their perfect complicated scheme, exacting absolute obedience. on a shelf below us a part of the caravan halts and puffs; the animals appear like black spots on the snow. up here the south-west wind enwraps us in swiftly passing clouds of whirling snowflakes. all this agitated sea of the highest mountains in the world seems singularly uniform as the eye passes unhindered over its crests. you conceive that no summit rises above a certain maximum height, for before its head lifts itself above the crowd, wind and weather, denudation, have worn it down. in this the mountains are like ocean waves; when these, too, rise in foaming wrath, their undulations, seen from the ship's deck, are of equal height, and the horizon is a straight line; and it is just the same with the small ridges between the furrows thrown up by the plough, which are all of uniform height; so that the field seems in the distance quite level. the horizon seemed to be very far off; nearer heights broke the sky-line only to the north and north-east, hiding those behind, and in this direction thick clouds were hanging, white above and dark and bluish underneath, and lay like soft cushions on the earth. there was, then, no suggestion of a plateau, but far in the north a mountain range seemed to rise right up to heaven. in the north-west a main crest was plainly visible, starting from our point of observation, that is, the height on which we stood. this is the karakorum range. the whole ridge here took the form of a rounded back, without solid rock, and intersected by numerous small valleys, all starting from the crest, and cutting gradually deeper and deeper into its flanks. the main ridge winds like a snake over the highlands, and the erosion valleys diverge on all sides like the boughs of a tree. here horizontal lines predominate in the landscape, but lower down, in the peripheral region, vertical lines catch the eye, as in the chang-chenmo lateral valleys. down there the scenery is more imposing and picturesque, up here the surface of the earth appears rather flat; here is the abode of storms, and their boundless playground in the long dark winter nights. [illustration: . in the snow, n.e. of chang-lung-yogma.] [illustration: . my tent.] [illustration: . lake lighten.] chilled through to the bones we walked down to the pass gap, where the whole caravan was assembled; here the height was , feet, and the temperature ° above freezing-point. the men were too tired to sing, but we had good reason to be satisfied, for all the animals had got up safely with their burdens. we slowly descended along a small valley running northwards. the ground consisted entirely of mud, in which the animals sank at every step, and in the footprints they left behind muddy grey water collected immediately. round about us lay a chaos of comparatively low, flat hills, furrowed everywhere by clefts which indicate landslips. a tiny rivulet winds silently down the middle of the valley without forming rapids. for the rest, all the country was flooded, and so we had no immediate fear of scarcity of water. where we encamped not a blade of grass could be seen; there was, therefore, no object in letting the horses run about loose, so they were tied together in couples, and had to stand waiting till the sun went down. then guffaru sat down on a rug, had a sack of maize placed before him, filled a wooden bowl with the grain, and emptied it into a nose-bag, which a ladaki hung on the muzzle of a horse. and so the men ran about till all the animals had received their rations, and the dry, hard maize corns cracked under the teeth of the hungry beasts. the ladak horses positively refused to eat maize, and were given barley instead; they whinnied with delight when the bags were brought, but the pleasure did not last long; the chewing gradually ceased, and with lowered heads and blinking eyes they wearily waited for the long night. some spare horses were laden with dry _yapkak_ plants; at camp no. there was not a particle of fuel. we were now at a height of , feet. in the morning we took leave of chenmo, the _kotidar_ of tankse, and zambul, the _numberdar_ of pobrang, who turned back here. they would be able to enjoy warm winds and bright sunny days again. besides a liberal reward for their valuable services they each received a testimonial in flattering terms. they took my letters with them, and were to give the messengers instructions about the route, should they fall in with them. our party was thereby diminished by six men, three horses, and seven yaks (illustration ). there were now only three men in my detachment, namely, myself, robert on horseback, and rehim ali on foot. we turned with the brook to the north, and had hilly elevations on both sides. the country was, as it were, dead--not a blade of grass, not a track of a strayed antelope; all organic life seemed to be banished from the neighbourhood. but when we had advanced a little further we found signs of the visits of man. a faint light streak on the ground seemed to be a path which had not been used for a long time, and beside it stood a cylindrical cairn surmounted by a slab of stone. at one spot, too, lay several skulls of horses and yaks; yet hunters, they say, never wander hither. perhaps it was a memento of the cartographical work of the survey of india, or was connected with the european pioneers who many years ago travelled backwards and forwards between eastern turkestan and india. the weather was quite tibetan. one shower of hail after another chilled us through, and drove a cold douche into our faces, but the sun was always shining somewhere within sight. long sheets of hail fell from the clouds, which seemed of very insignificant volume, but they could not whiten the ground. it seemed dry as tinder, in contrast to the wet slopes on either side of the karakorum pass. dust even rose now and then behind the horses. far in front of us we saw two dark points on the yellowish-grey land--they were a horse and its guide which had lingered behind the others. the long procession of the caravan moved extremely slowly along the descent. it made a halt, so pasturage had been found! ah, no--the soil was just as barren here as along the other miles we had travelled this day. so, as yesterday, the horses had to stand tied together, and the nose-bags of barley and maize were strapped round their necks. in the twilight i summoned muhamed isa to a council of war. "how long can the animals hold out, if we find no pasture?" "two months, sir; but we shall find grass before then." "if the marches are no longer than to-day's we shall take ten days to reach lake lighten, which sahib wellby discovered twenty years ago, and the route lies through ling-shi-tang and aksai-chin, which are some of the most desolate regions in all tibet." "then we will try to make forced marches, to get through the bad country as quickly as possible; in the neighbourhood of yeshil-kul the grazing is good, according to sonam tsering, who has been there." "how goes it with the animals?" "they are in good condition--only a horse and a mule are tired out, but we will let them travel awhile without loads. as for the rest, their loads are a little heavier now that we no longer have the seven yaks. but that will soon right itself." "how are the hired horses?" "they are all right except two, which are on their last legs, and which we shall soon lose." "see that the animals are spared as much as possible and are well cared for." "you may depend on me, nothing will be neglected. in camps like this they get more maize and barley than usual, but where there is pasturage we will be more sparing of our supplies." on september the level plateau was hidden in snowdrift and mist, and it was hard to decide in which direction to proceed: we agreed, however, that none of us should lose sight of the brook, for apparently no other water was to be found. we had not gone far when snow began to fall, a sharp south-west wind arose, and the whirling snowflakes hid even the nearest hills. it now snowed so thickly that we were afraid of missing the track of the caravan, which was far in front of us. according to the english map we could not be far from a small salt lake, but in this weather we were unable to obtain any notion of the lie of the land, and it was no use to climb a hill in order to look round. we sat in the saddle pelted with snow, but the snow soon thawed on our clothes, leaving an unpleasant smell of dampness behind. but this weather did not last long; the heavy dark blue and purple clouds parted asunder like curtains, and continued their rapid course to the east; the view was clear again. some scouts, who had gone in advance, discovered some fine _yapkak_ plants on the left bank of the river, and our hungry animals were glad to put up with these. three antelope tracks we crossed were regarded as a good sign; there must be pasturage somewhere about, but where? the next day's march led us over an apparently level plain, begirt by a ring of mountains, and our direction was on the whole north-east. we started simultaneously. i rode all along the caravan, which made a fine show. the animals did not march in file but in scattered troops, and their footprints combined to form a broad highway. the mules keep up bravely, and are always in the van. several of the horses are suffering, and lie down from time to time, only to be roused up immediately by the ladakis. muhamed isa leads the way on foot; he is the lodestone which draws after it the whole company. now we tried to cross the broad swampy bed of the stream. muhamed isa mounted his horse, but his steed sank in up to the belly; we had to give up the attempt and follow the bank instead. at times we had to cross side channels with the same treacherous ground. when the pilot had shown the way, some laden mules followed; then the other animals came all together. they sank up to the knee in the squelching ooze, and the ground behind them looked like an indiarubber sponge. at ten o'clock the daily storm set in. in the north-west its outer margin was marked with great sharpness. it rolled, huge, black, and heavy, over the plateau. now the storm is over our heads and its first black fringes swallow up the blue expanses of the sky. two ravens, which have faithfully followed us for some days, croak hoarsely; a few small birds skim twittering over the ground. the hail lashes us with terrible violence; it comes from the side, and the animals turn their tails to the storm, and thus leave the trail, and have to be driven again into the right direction. we do not know where we are going. i halt with muhamed isa for a moment's rest on a hill. [illustration: a, b. pantholops antelope. , . ovis ammon. sketches by the author.] "it would be better if we filled some goatskin sacks with water, in case we lose sight of the stream," he suggests to me. "no, let us go on; it will soon clear up, and then we can consider the matter." and the train moves on in spite of the drifting snow and the wintry darkness. it grows light, and the eyes survey unhindered the dreary, hilly, snow-covered land; westwards extend the plains of ling-shi-tang; to the south-east stretches the immense karakorum range with peaks covered with eternal snow, where thunder rolls among blue-black leaden clouds. soon this storm also reaches us, and we are enveloped in dense, fine, dry snowflakes, while the darkness of night reigns around us. i am riding at the tail of the train. the caravan is divided into four columns. we travel in the wake of the last, which looks almost black through the mist; the one in front of it appears as a dirty grey patch; the next is hardly perceptible, and the foremost is almost quite invisible. muhamed isa has vanished. the snow now changes into large feathery flakes, which sweep almost horizontally over the ground. all is silent in our company; no one speaks: the men walk with their bodies bent forward and their fur caps drawn over their ears. the whole party looks now like snow men, and the snow makes the loads heavier for the animals than they need be. at last our old friend, the brook, peeped out again from the duskiness, and we pitched our camp on the bank. tsering discovered abundance of _yapkak_ plants close at hand--some green, to which the animals were led, others dry, and very acceptable as fuel. in the evening there were ½ degrees of frost. the moonlight fell in sheaves of rays through an atmosphere full of fine snow crystals. absolute silence! one can hear the puppies' hearts beat, the ticking of the chronometer, the cold of night descending and penetrating into the earth. the country we marched through on september was good and level, especially near a small lake, which now showed its blue surface in the south-east. like all other salt lakes in tibet it seems to be drying up, for we travelled for some distance over its dry muddy bed, and saw, higher up, plainly marked old terraced banks. muhamed isa reported that an exhausted mule would probably not be able to cross a pass in a small ridge which barred our way. it managed, however, to get over, and came into camp in the evening, but was thin and exhausted. two pantholops antelopes, easily distinguishable by their long, lyre-shaped horns, sped away southwards, and we came across a wolf's spoor. in some spots the pasture was so good that we halted a few minutes to let the animals feed. we were sometimes tempted to pitch our camp, but yet we passed on. at last we bivouacked in an expansion of the valley with a stagnant creek, _yapkak_, and thin grass. we had scarcely hoped to find these three things so necessary to us--pasturage, fuel, and water, so soon and so close to the karakorum. in this camp, no. , we decided to give the animals a day's rest after all their exertions (illustrations a, b). on september , at daybreak, six miserable jades were picked out from the hired horses, and, as their loads were already consumed, were allowed to return home with their two guides. the sick mule lay dead. the sky was perfectly cloudless and the day became burning hot. in another respect we entered on new conditions, for, though we had covered miles, we had not seen a drop of water before we reached the place where our camp was pitched. it seemed not unlikely that the monsoon clouds would come no more over the karakorum, and then scarcity of water might render our situation very critical. the direction of the march was determined for us by open country lying between low, round, reddish hills. the ground would have been excellent if field-mice had not undermined it, so that the horses continually stepped into the holes and almost fell on their noses. the mice certainly did not show themselves, but it was too early in the year for their winter sleep. the broad valley opened into a colossal cauldron, skirted on all sides by grand mountains, a regular _meidan_, as the men of turkestan call such a valley. to the north the mountains between the karakash and yurungkash lift up their lofty peaks, and in the south the karakorum diverges farther and farther from our course. antelopes career over the plain in light flying leaps; they stand motionless, watching us, but as soon as we come near dart off as though on steel springs, and soon vanish in the distance. a mountain spur in front of us seemed a suitable point to make for, where water would surely be found. but hours passed and it seemed no nearer. a dying horse detained me; he was relieved of his load, but he was quite done for. i was very sorry for him, and regretted that he could not come with us any farther. i stayed awhile to keep him company, but the day was passing, and the two men who were with him were ordered to cut his throat if he could not get on. my ladakis thought it dreadful to desert a horse as long as it lived; its death-struggle might last for hours, and its last moments would be horrible if wolves got wind of it. it was a tall, black yarkand horse; in the evening its number was entered in the list of the dead. the caravan was moving in a black line to a ravine between the hills, where a faint greenish tinge seemed to indicate grass. a short time after, however, it came down again and marched out of sight; probably there was no water there. another fairly long space of time went by before we distinguished on the plain westwards small black spots and lines, whether wild asses or our own mules we could not determine. the field-glass would not reach so far. at the foot of a mountain in the west shone a silvery brook, but it was a long way off, and all distances were so great that the atmospheric effect misled us, and what we took for a caravan might be only a shadow on an erosion terrace. but robert's sharp eyes detected the smoke of a signal fire at the foot of the mountain. the caravan had, then, reached it and set the camp in order, and after a ride of an hour straight across the plain we joined it. here the height was , feet. we were now in a country belonging to the unannexed region aksai-chin, in north-west tibet. or tell me to what power this land belongs? does the maharaja of kashmir lay claim to it, or the dalai-lama, or is it a part of chinese turkestan? no boundaries are marked on the map, and one looks in vain for boundary stones. the wild asses, the yaks, and the swift-footed antelopes are subject to no master, and the winds of heaven do not trouble themselves about earthly boundary marks. from here, therefore, i could move eastwards without acting in direct opposition to the wishes of the english government, and the chinese would certainly forgive me for not using their passport. the distant mountains in the north, which had but now stood out in rosy colours like rows of houses in a great city, now grew pale in the grey twilight, and the grand contours were obliterated as another night spread its dark wings over the earth. a flute sounded softly and sweetly among the tents, and its tones lulled our weary wanderers to rest. the following morning the camp looked unusually small, for the hired horses and mules had remained behind on the plain, where their guides had found water by digging. they were thus spared a considerable detour. as a precaution we took a couple of goatskin vessels full of water, and filled all the bottles and cans. just before starting we saw our ladakis lying full length by the overflow of the spring thoroughly quenching their thirst, and the horses were allowed as much water as they liked. this day's route was excellent, firm and level; the great trunk road in india could not be better, and hardly a highway in sweden. masses of clouds appeared from the east round to the south-west; a storm was probably raging in the karakorum, but its outskirts never reached us. here the ground was dry, and the exceedingly fine dust stirred up by the caravan hung like steam over the earth. the other columns, like ourselves, made for a goal previously agreed upon, a mountain spur in the north-east. as we approached it, we speculated whether we should see beyond it aksai-chin, the lake crosby passed in . [illustration: . a gully at camp (aksai-chin).] north of the spur a large flat plain extends, and here the mirage was marvellously perplexing. the mountains seemed to be reflected in a perfectly calm lake, but the surface did not look like water--it was bright, light and airy; it was as transitory as a play of colours in the clouds, and seemed as though it had a foundation of transparent glass. the mule caravan, now in front of us, was also the sport of the mirage: we saw it double as if it also were passing beside a lake. at last we reached the spur and rested there awhile. robert climbed up the side to look for the expected lake; as he came down the detritus began to move, our horses were frightened and wildly stampeded towards the east. fortunately, they followed the track of the caravan, which was in the act of pitching the camp. the grazing at camp no. was the best we had seen since pobrang, and water was obtained by digging at a depth of inches. kulans had supplied the fuel, for their dung was plentiful. the place was so comfortable that we remained here the following day, and made an excursion to an elevation of sandstone and conglomerate almost in the form of an upturned dish, which stands on the south of the plain and turns its sharply clipped margin to the north. on the top muhamed isa erected a cairn--he had a mania for cairns. little did i dream then that i should see these landmarks again a year and a half later (illustration ). at dawn next day we made another advance into the forbidden land. the air was not quite clear, and we saw it quivering over the ground; but above it was clearer, for the crests of the mountains were more sharply defined than their feet. we marched eastwards; on our right was blood-red conglomerate, which lay upon green schists. on the left the lake was now visible, its deep blue surface contrasting vividly with the dull tones which prevailed elsewhere. the sight of a lake was refreshing; it gave the crowning touch to the scene. the country was open eastwards to the horizon; only in the far distance one snowy mountain appeared in this direction, but probably our longitudinal valley extended along the north or south side of this elevation. in short, the land was as favourable as it was possible to be, and remained so for several days; and i suspected that lake lighten, the yeshil-kul, and the pul-tso, known from wellby's, deasy's, and rawling's travels, lay in this valley, which in every respect was characteristic of the tibetan highlands. the ground was like a worm-eaten board; the holes of the field-mice lay so close together that all attempts to avoid them were vain. even on the intervals between them one was not safe. frequently the roof of a subterranean passage, consisting of dry loose soil mixed with gravel, broke in. robert once made a somersault with his horse. these troublesome rodents, which live on the roots of the _yapkak_ plants and grass, are very irritating. the caravan had camped close to the shore, beside splendid water, which a brook poured down in great abundance into the salt lake. late in the evening we saw a fire burning in the far distance. was it another traveller, or had hunters wandered thus far? no, it was some of our own people, who were watching the animals and had kindled a fire to keep themselves warm. there were no men in this desolate country but ourselves. chapter viii to lake lighten we left camp no. ( , feet) with a feeling of satisfaction, for the country, as far as the eye could reach, was quite level; its elevation above the lake shore was so insignificant that it could not be detected without instruments. the atmosphere was hazy; the pure blue of the lake, a reflexion of the sky, had quite disappeared, and now the water looked dull and grey. one of the hired horses was left behind at the camp; its owner hoped to save it, but he was disappointed, and he also betrayed the horse, for he took another way home and mercilessly abandoned the poor animal to solitude and the wolves. we rode a long distance on the old lake bottom and perfectly level stretches of clayey mud. afterwards the soil was of fine gravel, and as hard as though it had been compressed by the weight of a steam-roller. only in an isolated drainage basin can such level expanses occur among huge mountains. weathering, precipitation, flowing water, storm and wind work together in levelling the land. all heights and ridges are thereby reduced, all hollows are filled up with mud, sand, and rubbish. far in the east the country is quite open. here giants riding on indian elephants would have room enough to play a game of polo in grand style, and the swift-footed jambas dromedaries might run till they were tired, for even the restless west wind finds no obstacle in its path. antelopes and kulans appeared in timid herds. of human beings not a sign. yesterday some of the men saw three stones placed together to form a hearth; perhaps they had to do with crosby's expedition ( ), for he, too, passed eastwards from the aksai-chin lake to lake lighten. in the north, on the left side of our route, we could descry three stages or crests; nearest to us a row of small dark-green hills; farther off a continuous chain without snow on it, and quite in the background a main range with a number of snowy peaks. on the south our longitudinal valley was bordered by mountains gradually increasing in height towards the east. at camp no. we found all we wanted, though the water was a little salt. good luck followed us, and we had reached, quite fortuitously, a much more kindly country than we had ventured to expect. near the camp we crossed a stagnant creek and we passed several others on september . it soon turned out that a large river-bed, containing, however, little water, ran to the lake, and all day long we fell in with indications of its proximity. the landscape was monotonous, and showed little variety during the day's march. but the ground was all that could be desired, and if it so continued, it would help us to make good progress into the heart of the forbidden land. grass now cropped up in larger quantities than we had hitherto met with. it thrived best where the soil was sandy. it grew in small tufts, green and succulent only in the middle, for the rest was yellow and hard from the frosts at night. the west wind, which swept all day over tibet, rustled pleasantly through the grass. who would have looked for a true prairie up here in north tibet? the ground was of a deep straw-yellow, but the vault of heaven above us was clear and blue in spite of the wind; it seemed to me as though an immense flag of the colours of my native country enveloped heaven and earth. north and south rose dark purple, greyish-yellow, red, and white-capped mountains. the land was so level that the caravan, though it was an hour's march ahead, was visible as a short, narrow black line against the horizon, not the slightest rise ever hiding it from sight. in consequence of the mirage it seemed to hover a little above the surface, and the animals looked like fantastic long-legged camels. [illustration: . the hired ladakis and the provision sacks in north-west chang-tang.] [illustration: . namgyal with a sack of yak-dung.] at a spot where the grass was unusually good the hired detachment had made a halt; it had lost another horse, and wished to try and save two other death candidates. the packs were strewed about the ground, the animals were grazing eagerly, and the men sat at the fire with their backs to the wind and smoked in turns from a common pipe. salt made the soil in some places white as chalk, in others a thin layer of coarse quartz sand occurred with a tendency to form dunes. the caravan had encamped, and small scattered black points showed us that the animals were grazing. a couple of spots, which were far removed from the others, were riders in search of water. it was not easy to pitch the tents; all the men must hold on with all their strength, lest the canvas should be blown away or torn into shreds, and at the same time coarse sand blew into their faces. we were glad to get under cover at last, but even then the wind roared and whistled through all the holes and chinks, and the puppies were very uneasy. but such a westerly storm has one advantage: it makes the march easier, pushing on behind. one needs only to turn and try riding against the storm to learn the difference. the th began badly, for nine horses had made off in the night, and muhamed isa with some ladakis had gone in search of them. meanwhile we waited in a regular snowstorm. manuel was engaged in a very lively dispute with ganpat sing; it was about a pair of stockings which the latter had bought from our cook in leh. but now manuel found that he could use them himself, and talked over ganpat sing to retract the bargain. manuel often amused robert and myself with his broken english. if it snowed, he said "the dew falls"; if it stormed, "there seems to be a breeze in the air to-day"; and when we left the lake he asked when we should come to the next "pond." he thought the aksai-chin lake a wretched puddle compared with the boundless ocean at madras. after five of the lost horses had been caught i started on the track of the mules. the land rose as slowly as before, nothing was seen of the mountains through the drifting snow; we might as well have been on the plains of mongolia or the kirghiz steppe. the camp this day was pitched by a source at the foot of the mountains on the northern side of the valley, where there was good pasture. in the absence of a tent we were housed in sonam tsering's round fortification of provision sacks, where a fire burned in the middle and we were sheltered from the wind. towards evening muhamed isa sent word that another horse had been recovered, but that it was impossible to look for the others in the driving snow, and he asked for furs and provisions from the main camp. the man, however, whose unenviable duty it was to return with these things to camp no. through the darkness and snow, could not find the caravan-bashi and his companions, who had therefore to spend the night in the open, exposed to the frost and without food and drink. they were much exhausted when they rejoined us next day with all the missing horses. i gave my night watchmen a scolding, and insisted strongly that this must not occur again, for the animals were tired by these wanderings and exposed to the attacks of wolves, and the march was delayed. it was, however, really wonderful that we had so far lost only a mule and two horses (illustration ). and now we went on eastwards, still in the same great longitudinal valley. the river contained more water the higher we mounted, for below the water was lost by evaporation and percolation into the ground. the red conglomerate continued on our right, on the left were green schists. in the midst of the sterile valley we passed a small round oasis of grass, like a coral island in the ocean. the day's storm brought us rain and muggy weather; about mid-day it poured down and the thermometer marked °. all was uncomfortably wet and dirty when we formed our camp, and the damp fuel would not catch fire. then it began to snow, and late in the evening the country was again clothed in wintry white. we had hoped in vain to reach the saddle whence lake lighten might be seen. according to wellby's map it might be still a couple of days' march off, but under favourable circumstances it must be visible from a long distance. [illustration: . shelter of provision sacks.] [illustration: . camp in a narrow valley (camp ).] [illustration: . robert, muhamed isa, and two servants by a fire.] icy east wind blew next day. it was cold and raw as it passed over the snowfields, and the vile weather was not only uncomfortable physically, but it had a depressing effect on the spirits, so that we sat listlessly in the saddle, were sleepy and indifferent, and longed for the brazier in the evening. the antelopes were bolder than usual; at this season they are fat and strong. we rode past a horse which had fallen and died on the track; nothing could have been done for him. he lay with wide-opened eyes as though looking for a land in the east, and he was still quite warm. the pack-saddle had proved useful, for muhamed isa had thoughtfully had all the saddles stuffed with hay for future use. so the animals could little by little consume their own pack-saddles. in camp two sheep were slaughtered, for they showed signs that they would not hold out much longer. in the morning a dying horse lay among the tents. a wolf crouched in a side valley, watching our departure and looking forward to a grand meal; but he would not have the pleasure of killing the horse, for we put an end to its life with a knife. we had now entered on a critical period, for scarcely a day passed without our losing one or more of our animals. we still mounted slowly eastwards, and, trusting to wellby's map, i had promised my people that they should this day get sight of a lake. we ascended a rise in the ground, but from the summit only another was visible, which quite blocked up the view, and when we had surmounted this there was a third in front of us. now, however, our expectations were no longer to be disappointed. part of the blue lake appeared in the east-south-east, encased in hills. on its southern shore, where wellby had travelled in , rose singular irregular points and groups, the continuation of the red snowy range which we had seen for several days past, and now, in fine weather, stood out in all its wild beauty. we had mounted for six days towards the expected pass, and found it just above the lake. its height was , feet. now the horses were so exhausted that we must find good pasture at any cost, and let the animals rest a few days. camp no. was pitched on the strand, and afforded a view over all the lake. to the south rose the singular range in shades of yellowish-red and scarlet, pink, and light brown, and fantastic precipitous rocks stood out between soft snowfields of a glistening bluish tinge. camp no. was to be a notable station in our bold raid into the forbidden land (illustration ). we had scarcely got things in order when the last eight of the hired tankse men, attended by muhamed isa, appeared before my tent, fell on their knees after the ladak custom, touched the ground with their foreheads, and then sat motionless as images while their leader and foreman spoke as follows: "sahib, we have nineteen horses left; eight of them are still strong, but the rest will not last much longer. oh, sahib, let us return home before winter comes and our animals perish." "it was agreed that you should accompany us as far as the yeshil-kul; do you mean to break your word?" "sahib, we know that we are in your hands, and are dependent on your favour; our provisions will not last more than ten days; if we go as far as yeshil-kul we shall all die on the return journey. oh, sahib, have pity on us, and let us go home." "very well. if i let you go, which road will you take?" "sahib, we will travel over the mountains here in the south, and pass by arport-tso to the lanak-la, which one can reach in ten days." "can you find your way, and are you sure that your supplies will last out?" "yes, sir." "then make ready to start." turning to muhamed isa i continued: "manuel and the two rajputs cannot bear this climate, and it is best to let them go also before the cold winter comes." muhamed isa was a diplomatist, and tried to conceal his satisfaction as he answered: "yes, if we take them with us farther into the country in winter they will freeze to death. already they crawl together like marmots to the fire, and yet their teeth chatter and they tremble from cold in their furs." "we can easily do without them." "hitherto they have done no more work than the puppies, or, rather, less, for they are either too lazy or too grand to collect fuel for their own fire; two of our ladakis have to attend on them and their horses. it would be a great gain if we were quit of them." "let them go, and then we shall have the use of their horses, for i can hire some of the tankse horses to be at their disposal on the journey to ladak." "yes, sir, they have three saddle-horses, besides two others for their baggage. we are now losing the tankse horses, some of which, indeed, have only carried fuel, but, by their departure, the baggage to be carried by our own horses will be increased by fifteen other packages. therefore the black men's horses are a very necessary reinforcement." next day the plates and rock specimens, to be forwarded to srinagar, were packed up, and i wrote letters home and to friends in india. i begged colonel dunlop smith to send after me, in october, to the neighbourhood of dangra-yum-tso, with the permission of the viceroy, all letters that had come for me up to that time. they must be sent through gyangtse and shigatse, and the tashi lama, who had recently been so well received in india, would certainly be very pleased to see that the post-bag was transmitted to me. i thought that, even if i were forbidden to travel further in the interior of tibet, my letters would not be held back--at the worst i could make the forwarding of the mail a condition of the acceptance of the demands of the tibetans. i accordingly requested that a post-runner should receive orders to reach dangra-yum-tso at the end of november, there to await my arrival. on the morning of september three of our own horses lay dead among the tents. the following night the great spotted yarkand horse, which had carried our boat, died (illustration ). when the sun rose on the th two more victims had followed the others, and lay, with neck and legs outstretched, frozen hard after a night frost of a degree below zero. i summoned muhamed isa. "how many more animals have we?" "we have : horses and mules; horses and a mule have died." "it will be bad if this dying goes on at the same rate as in the last three days." "i do not think it will, sahib; the weakest have succumbed, the strongest remain." "but six horses are gone, and that means six more loads for the survivors, besides the fifteen of the tankse horses." "the six fallen horses have carried nothing during the last few days." "but at any rate the loads will now be heavier." "since we have been camping here i have given the animals double measures of maize and barley, partly to strengthen them, partly to lighten the loads. on the first days, when we start from here, we must make short marches, and rather let the horses eat their fill than throw away a single sack of barley." "good. we have english miles before us to the dangra-yum-tso, and that makes days' marches at the rate of miles a day. if days of rest be added, we should arrive at the lake on november , that is, in two months and six days. the mules seem hardier than the horses; we must try to keep a stock of strong mules; later on we shall contrive something when we have met the first nomads." "oh, yes, if it comes to the worst the ladakis can carry what is absolutely necessary, and we can all go on foot." "yes, muhamed, remember that i shall certainly not turn back unless i am compelled by superior force." "no, i know that; all will be well." [illustration: . the large piebald yarkand horse.] [illustration: , . the slain yaks: tundup sonam, the hunter, on the left in .] four horse-loads of maize and barley were consumed in this camp; and henceforth a horse-load would be used daily, not including the men's rations. but probably we should also lose a horse a day, often, perhaps, two or more. still, there always remained a chance of finding better pasturage, where the horses might recover their strength, when we turned off to the south-east. we had at present no ground for complaint. the hired horses had done us very great service. we were able to leave the western shore of lake lighten with laden animals. two horses were required for our boat and all its appurtenances, but i intended to spare them a couple of days, and let the boat be taken over the lake. so far we had succeeded in keeping our stages well in advance, and that was good. wellby, deasy, rawling, and zugmayer, who were all in this region, and brought back such excellent, meritorious results, had here and at yeshil-kul caravans in a far less efficient condition than mine. leh and tankse were my starting-points. but the last connections with them were severed at lake lighten, and here commenced a bold march towards an unknown destiny. chapter ix on the lake in a storm on september we took leave of the hindus and the natives of tankse. i was sorry for the former; it was not their fault that they could not bear the climate, and they had had no opportunity of showing what they were worth. on the last evening bikom sing had sung his swan-song in our party, the same monotonous, melancholy sanskrit hymn which had so frequently reminded himself and his fellow-countrymen of a warm country with pleasant huts in the shade of palms and mango trees, of laden ox-carts on dusty roads, and of the warning growl of the royal tiger in the jungle by the river bank, when the full moon shines from heaven on mild spring nights. i thanked them for their good, faithful, and honest services, paid them well, provided for their return journey, and handed them good testimonials. they received supplies of meal, sugar, tea, and rice, and a sheep for butcher's meat. manuel was allowed to take with him one of the puppies which he was fond of. muhamed isa had sewed together a tent of empty corn sacks, to protect them from the frosts at night. they intended to travel on the first day only to the foot of the red mountain chain, and the day was already far advanced when they shook hands and mounted their horses. we remained standing awhile, watching the little party grow smaller under the sun in the south-west, and soon disappearing behind the nearest hills. i have never heard anything more of them. eighteen months later manuel's father wrote to inquire where his son was, but i did not know. so much i ascertained, that he had arrived safely at leh, but i could not track him any farther. however, i hope that he will turn up all right at home after his wanderings. we missed them sorely, but we consoled ourselves with the boat, which was unpacked and put together on the bank. a bright clear day after degrees of frost. the rivulet at our camp was frozen into a shiny riband, meandering to the strand, and along the bank a belt of ice two yards broad flapped up and down under the beat of the ripples. the water of the lake may be drunk in case of necessity; probably its affluents reduce the salinity along our shore, where the river descending from the pass and numerous springs pour into it. the sand on the bottom of the lake is finely and sharply rippled by the oscillating movement of the waves, and the water is crystal clear. now our horses, which had lost another comrade in camp no. , were laden with heavy packs. the caravan had orders to skirt the northern shore of the lake, and to encamp at some suitable spot near it. robert was to draw a rough sketch of the shore-line; tsering, muhamed isa's brother, accompanied me at his own request. and so we left at the same time this dreary place, where we had parted with our companions and had lost seven horses. amid the silence of the desert it lay rocked to sleep, as it were, by the murmur of the waves against the shore--a burial-ground forgotten by gods and men. tsering soon got used to the oars, and afterwards the west wind came to our assistance. we made across to the north-western corner of the lake, and had a much less distance to cover than the caravan, which had to make a wide detour. the sail was only a trial trip, but i was delighted from the first moment with the english boat, which was solid and comfortable, and easy to steer. the greatest depth we measured was feet. after rounding a promontory we caught sight of the bluish-grey smoke of our camp a little distance from the shore, drew the boat on to the beach, and rejoined our people. the camp was arranged as follows: muhamed isa, tsering, two other men, and the kitchen were accommodated in a large tent, quadrangular below and pyramidal above. the principal ladakis lived in the tibetan tent, while the rest found shelter within the ramparts of the provision sacks. robert had manuel's tent to himself, and he had piled up so many boxes of all kinds round his bed that it looked like a parsee tomb. outside, on the right wing, stood my tent, a little apart from the others. the black pobrang dog was missing; probably he was enjoying a feast on the seven dead horses; and so it was in fact: when muhamed isa sent a man back to camp there was the dog fat and bloated, like a tightly stuffed bag, and so lazy and stupid that he could hardly move. he had thoroughly overeaten himself, and would not look at his food for a whole day after. september was a memorable day in our chronicles. the boat lay on the shore ready to sail, and i resolved to spare the horses its weight once more. eastwards the lake seemed quite small, and it could not be far to its eastern bank, near which the caravan could encamp wherever there was passable grazing. if it became too dark before they heard anything of me, they could light a beacon fire on the shore. but, of course, we should turn up in good time. we looked upon the trip as a mere trifle, and did not think of providing ourselves with food, drinking-water, fuel, and warm clothing for the night. i was dressed as usual, wore my leathern vest, and took my ulster with me, and a fur coat was spread over the back bench only to make a soft seat. [illustration: . rehim ali, one of my ladakis on the first crossing of tibet.] yes, we were too thoughtless on this occasion. in the forenoon i inspected the animals, as usual, and then gave rehim ali a lesson in rowing, for he was to come with me this time, and he did so well that he was solemnly appointed _kemibashi_, or admiral of the fleet. just at starting i decided to row across the lake, to sound its depth and ascertain its breadth. the distances, or, more correctly, the course, i measured with a log by lyth of stockholm, and the depths were to be sounded every quarter of an hour. we should certainly reach the rendezvous before dark. at eleven o'clock the temperature of the water was ° f., and it rose afterwards a few degrees higher. the day was bright and quite calm; at one o'clock we noted ° f. i took the dark opening of a bank terrace as the point to steer for. we could do without drinking-water, for the hydrometer marked in the lake; it therefore floated as low as in fresh water (illustration ). the lagoons on our shore were covered with ice fully half an inch thick. six wild yaks were seen at the foot of the mountain to the north. the lake lay deceptively quiet and smooth; only a slow gentle swell, the last reminder of the effect of the expiring night wind, could be felt. not a wisp of cloud, not the slightest breeze--weather all the more enjoyable after the storms of the past days. the lake shone against the light turquoise-blue vault of heaven, when we looked southwards, with as bright a green as the tender foliage of birches in the spring. for a few minutes we heard the bells of the mules as they tramped off, but the black line of the caravan soon vanished in the hilly lands along the shore. rehim ali rowed like a practised boatman. at the second sounding-station the depth was feet, and at the third . when my oarsman shipped his oars the next time the sounding-line, feet long, did not reach the bottom; unfortunately we had no reserve lines, for i had never found before such great depths in a tibetan lake. "this lake has no bottom at all," groaned rehim ali. "of course it has a bottom, but we have no more line." "does not the sahib think it dangerous to go further when the lake is bottomless?" "there is no danger on that account; we can row to the shore, which is not far, and then we have only a short distance to the camp." "inshallah, but it may be farther than it looks. bismillah," he cried, and he set to work again. about two o'clock the lake was as smooth as a sheet of glass, and showed curious confused reflexions of the mountains. we became quite dizzy in the head; the lake had now assumed the same colour as the sky, and we might have been soaring in a space of bright blue ether within a magical spherical planet. behind us, to the north, the panorama of a mighty crest unrolled itself, with flattish lofty domes covered with eternal snow. the sun was scorching hot, rehim ali wiped his brow, the smoke of my cigarette hung motionless in the air, there was not a ripple except those produced by the boat and the oars--it was a pity to spoil the surface. all was quiet and peaceful as a day in late summer which had lingered among the mountains. "god protect us from the darkness," said rehim ali; "it is dangerous to be on the water after the sun has set." "do not be afraid." now the sounding-line touched the bottom at feet, and next time at feet. a quarter of an hour later we jumped ashore. i drew a panorama of the northern mountains, while rehim ali munched a piece of bread which he had providently brought with him. it was a quarter to four when we put off again. in two hours it would be dark, but then we should see the camp-fire on the shore. the east end of the lake seemed quite close, but we were easily deceived by the mirage. we rowed for a while east-north-eastwards along the shore. it would be extraordinary if the west wind did not get up on this day. i asked rehim ali repeatedly, for he had the western horizon in front of him, if the view was clear in that direction, or if the westerly storm was making its appearance. "no, there is no storm," he answered quietly. "yes, now it is coming," he said, after a short interval; "and it will be a bad one." i turn round and see in the west, above the pass we had crossed some days before, high, light-yellow vortices of sand and dust, which soon tower up to ° above the horizon; they rise rapidly, condense into a dark cloud, and hide the view of the western heights. yes, that is a westerly storm coming on. [illustration: . starting on a voyage.] but the danger to us is not great; we can land wherever we like; we have matches to light a fire, and sufficient _yapkak_ can be found, so we shall not freeze even with degrees of frost; and we can do without food for once. but we will not land; perhaps the camp is close to. "row on, rehim ali--no, wait a moment, set up the mast and loose the sail before the storm breaks, and then we shall get help for a part of the way. if the storm becomes too violent we will go ashore." it is still deadly quiet. but now comes the first forerunner--a ripple skims over the surface, the wind catches the sail, puffs it out like a ball, smoothing out all its folds, the boat darts forwards, and a whirling, boiling track is formed in our wake. we keep to the southern shore; there lie a series of lagoons and spits of sand and pebbles. a pair of black geese sit on one of these spits; they gaze in astonishment as we pass; they perhaps take us for a huge water-bird which cannot fly, because it has only one wing. the lake is getting rougher; we fly towards a spit to the north-east; oh, heavens! the water is only feet deep under our keel. if we run aground the boat will be dashed to pieces; its oiled sailcloth is as taut as a drum-skin. i put the helm over as far as possible, and graze the spit amidst the raging surf; the manoeuvre succeeds, and the next minute we are in deep open water where the waves are more moderate. now a spit shows itself to the east-north-east projecting far into the lake, but it is a long distance off, and we are out on the agitated lake, where the white horses are getting higher and higher and their roar becomes louder and louder; the whole lake is in the wildest commotion; if we can only reach that landspit safe and sound we can get under its lee and land safely. yes, we must land by hook or crook, for the storm is upon us; it becomes more violent every moment and the mast cracks; i dare not sail any longer with the sheet made fast. we have a grand sailing wind, the water roars and rages under the stem and boils and bubbles behind us. we have to look out, for if the mast breaks, which already bends like a whip, the boat will tip over, will fill in a moment, and will be sunk by the weight of the centre-board, which is not in use but is carried as cargo. we have two life-buoys as a last resource. rehim ali sits in the bow. he clings to the mast, keeps a look-out forwards, and reports that the lake beyond the landspit is as extensive as in the west. we have been the victims of an illusion, and cannot reach the eastern shore before complete darkness overtakes us. would it not be better to land and wait for the day? yes, let us land and get into the lee of the landspit. the sun sinks, the storm grows in strength, we can hear it howling through the chasms to the south; fine spindrift flies like a comet's tail over the crests of the waves; it is a most critical and trying moment. the dust clouds have disappeared, and the western horizon is dimly perceptible. the sun sinks to its rest, a ball of liquid gold, and a weird, mysterious gleam spreads over the whole country. everything is coloured red except the dark-blue white-edged lake. the night rises out of the east, dark purple shades lengthen out behind the mountains, but the most easterly pinnacles and the summit t, rising above all the others with its glittering snowfields, stands out fiery red against the dark background, like volcanic cones of glass lighted within by glowing streams of lava; a couple of riven clouds rush eastwards, their crimson colour vying in beauty with the snowfields and glaciers below them. all shades of rose-colour play on the sail, and a purple foam quivers on the crests of the waves as though we were being driven over a sea of blood. the sun sinks; now the sail and spray turn white, and soon only the last tint of the evening red lights up the highest snowfields. the night spreads further westwards, and the last glow, the final glimmer of day, dies out on the summits in the south-east. rehim ali crouches at the bottom of the boat while we shoot towards the landspit, tossing, rolling, and pitching. all outlines are still sharp and clear. i steer the boat out of the surf round the landspit, but then pause a moment; it would be easy to get into lee-water; but no, all is well now--the moon shines brightly, and before it goes down we may perhaps reach another point. [illustration: . in peril on lake lighten.] through driving spume and hissing foam we fly past the point, and in a second it is too late to get under its lee, however much we might wish to do so, for the roar of the surge dies away behind us, and open water again yawns before us black as night, bounded in the distance by a scarcely perceptible strip of land, another spit of the gravel so abundant on the southern shore. so we speed over the disturbed lake. we start with a fright, for we hear the huge waves rolling over behind us. the dull droning comes nearer, and i turn round--we must inevitably be buried under the heavy, rolling crests. a faint gleam of the dying day still lingers in the west. the spray, driven by the storm, gives us a cool bath. then the waves reach us, but they lift up the boat gently, and then roll on towards the eastern shore, which rehim ali does not expect to reach. now the sail is white in the moonshine, and my shadow passes up and down it with the movement of the boat. rehim ali is almost dead of fright; he has rolled himself up like a hedgehog on the bottom of the boat and buried his face in my ulster, so as not to see the agitated water. he says not a word, he is quite resigned and is awaiting his last moments. the distance to the eastern shore cannot be estimated, and it is certainly impossible to effect a landing there without shipwreck. if there are cliffs and reefs on the shore we shall be mangled and crushed amid the breakers, and if the strand slopes down gently we shall capsize, and be thrown ashore by the great rolling billows like a piece of cork (illustration ). in the midst of the dark, indistinct chaos the surf at the point of the landspit flashes out; it is more furious than at the other point, for the waves have become larger as we have left a wider expanse of lake behind us. i try to get into the lee, but the storm drives us out again, and we are away from the land before we are aware. it now becomes colder, but i do not feel it, the excitement is too great, and our lives are at stake. i look in vain for the beacon of my servants; have they not obeyed my orders, or are they so far from the shore that the fire is invisible? i succeed in removing the back bench and sit on the bottom, where i am somewhat protected from the cutting wind. behind us, the broken streak of moonlight on the water makes the waves look more weird than before; they have become gigantic, and the nearest hides all behind it. the hours pass one after another; the moon sets. now all is pitch darkness; only the stars flicker like torches over our heads, otherwise the deepest blackness surrounds us. my right hand is gone to sleep, cramped with grasping the rudder; the boat seems to dart eastwards, but the waves roll past us--they are still quicker than we. now and then i ask rehim ali whether his cat's eyes can see the breakers on the eastern shore. he casts a hurried glance over the gunwale, answers that they are still very far off, and buries his face again in the ulster. the tension becomes more acute; whatever happens we are certainly approaching the moment when the boat will be cast helpless on the strand. i hope that the lake is so broad that we may continue our wild career till daybreak. but no, that is incredible, for there are no lakes so large in tibet. we have the whole night before us, and in this flying course we can cover immense distances. there is something uncanny and awe-inspiring in such a sail, when the crests are visible in the darkness only when they lift the boat, to roll onward the next moment. we hear nothing but their swish, the howling of the wind, and the hissing of the foam under the stem. "look out, rehim ali," i call out; "when you feel that the boat has grounded, jump out and pull it with all your strength to the beach." but he makes no reply; he is quite paralyzed with fear. i pack up my drawings and sketch-books in a small bag. but what is that? i hear a thundering roar that drowns the growling of the storm, and in the pitch-black darkness i see something like a bright streak close to us. that must be the surf on the shore. "loose the sail!" i cry, so loudly that my throat nearly cracks, but rehim ali is helpless and does not move an inch. i undo the rope and let the sail flap and beat just as the boat grinds against the bottom and suddenly sticks fast. "jump into the water and draw the boat up," i shout, but he does not obey; i poke him in the back, but he takes no notice. then i seize him by the collar and throw him overboard just as the next roller dashes up the beach, fills the boat, turns it over, and soaks me to the skin. now i may as well jump out myself, but rehim ali at last realizes the situation and helps me to draw the boat beyond the reach of the waves (illustration ). the fur coat and ulster are as wet as myself, and only after a long search do we recover all the things that have been scattered in our shipwreck. we were half-dead with weariness and excitement; one almost loses one's breath altogether with such exertions in this rare atmosphere. we mounted a sandy hillock and sat down, but the cutting icy wind drove us away. could the boat provide us with shelter? we must draw out the bolts which held the two halves together, and at last we succeeded with the help of the centre-board. uniting our forces we heaved up one half of the boat, propped it up with a plank, and crept under its shelter. we were quite numbed; no wonder, for the water froze in our clothes so that they crackled when touched. the water on the bottom of the boat turned to ice; my fur coat was as hard as a board, and was absolutely useless. hands and feet were stiff and had lost all feeling; we must get up again or we should be quite frozen. there was only one thing to do. in the shelter of the boat i took off my kashmir boots and my stockings, and rehim ali shampooed my feet, but i felt no life in them till he had opened his _chapkan_ and warmed them for a long time against his naked body. there was no sign of life anywhere about. amid the roaring of the surf we had to shout to make ourselves heard. how were we to pass the night with degrees of frost, and wet clothes already stiffened into cuirasses of ice? could we keep alive till the sun rose? rehim ali disappears into the darkness to search for fuel, but he comes back empty-handed. to my joy i discover that my cigarette-case and matches are still available; i had stood in the water only up to my breast, even when the last breaker had done its best to wet me through. so i light a cigarette and give one to rehim ali to cheer him up. "is there nothing here, then, that we can burn? yes, wait, we have the wooden roller of the sounding-line and the frame in which it is fixed. fetch them at once." we ruthlessly break up this masterpiece of muhamed isa's skill in carpentry, and hack in pieces the frame with our knives; we lay aside the wet shavings, and use the dry, inner sticks as firewood. they make a very tiny heap. only a couple are sacrificed at once, and i get them to burn with some blank leaves from my note-book. our fire is small and insignificant, but it warms us famously, and our hands thaw again. we sit close over the fire, and keep it up with the greatest economy, putting on one splinter at a time. i take off my clothes to wring them as dry as i can; rehim ali dries my ulster, on which i depend for the night; the fur coat is left to its fate. how long is it to the dawn? ah, several hours yet. the roller and the handle are still in reserve, but this small stock of wood cannot last long, and i look forward with trepidation to the moment when the cold will compel us to sacrifice the mast and the benches. the time passes so slowly; we say little to one another, we long for the sun. as soon as our clothing is a little dry we can boil water in the baler, so as to get something warm into our bodies. [illustration: . the author and rehim ali pull the boat out of the waves up on to the shore.] however, we had good reason to rejoice that we had got off so well. i shall never forget lake lighten, wellby's and deasy's lake. it had kept us company for several days, we had lost seven horses on its banks, and our friends had left us with the last letters. we had seen this lake strikingly beautiful in bright light hues, but also pitchy black, like a tomb, in the arms of night; it had lain smooth and shining in the burning sunshine, but it had also shown us its teeth, white shining teeth of foam and spindrift. not long ago we were almost roasted in the heat of the sun on its unknown depths of crystal-clear, vernal-green water; now we were on its bank nearly frozen in the bitter, wintry cold; then it lay so still that we hardly ventured to speak lest we should disturb its peaceful repose; now it raved in unbridled fury. its shores had yielded us grass, spring-water, and fuel, but to the voyagers in the night it had seemed almost boundless: the eastern bank had retired before us all day long; we had seen the sun rise, sink and set in a sea of purple and flames, and even the moon accomplish its short journey before we reached our goal where the surf thundered and folded us in a wet and cold embrace. we had made a notable voyage in the small boat, full of variety and excitement; thrice our lives had hung by a hair as we almost ran aground on the landspits, for had we capsized there we could hardly have reached land before our hands were paralyzed on the life-buoys in the icy-cold water. wonderful lake! only yaks, wild asses, and antelopes find freedom on thy shores; only glaciers, firn-fields, and the everlasting stars are reflected on thy surface; and thy silence is only interrupted by the music of thine own waves and the victorious war-song that the western tempest plays on thy strings of emerald-green water. at any rate we were still alive and on land without any broken limbs. we longed for the grey of dawn, and kept a tight hand on the fire, feeding it only now and then with a fresh chip to prevent its going out altogether. sleep was out of the question, for we should be frozen. sometimes we nodded a moment while we sat cowering over the flickering flames, and rehim ali occasionally hummed an air to make the time pass. i am just thinking how i should enjoy a cup of hot tea, when rehim ali gives a start, and cries out: "a fire in the distance." "where?" i ask, somewhat incredulous. "yonder, northwards, on the shore," he replies, pointing to a feebly luminous point. "that is a star," i say, after searching through the darkness with a field-glass. "no, it is on this side of the mountains." "why, then, have we not seen the fire before? they would not light a beacon fire in the middle of the night." "it is not a fire, it is a lantern; i see it moving about." "yes, indeed, it is a light which changes its position." "now it is gone." "and it does not appear again; perhaps it was only an optical illusion." "no, there it is again." "and now it is gone again." and it remained so long invisible that we lost hope, and cowered over the embers of the last chips of the roller. "does not the sahib hear something?" "yes, it sounds like the tramp of horses." "yes, and like men's voices." the next moment the shadowy outlines of five large horses and three men appear against the sky. the riders dismount and approach us with joyful, friendly greeting. they are muhamed isa, rabsang, and adul. they sit down by us and inform us that camp no. lies an hour's journey to the north, a little distance from the shore. as soon as the camp was pitched they had sent out men to look out for us, but had given up the search, as these men had found no signs of us and had seen no fire. late at night, however, robert, feeling uneasy because of the storm, had climbed a hill, and had seen our small fire. he at once sent the three men after us. they said that they had kept up a large beacon fire all the evening, but apparently the inequalities of the ground had concealed it; certainly we could not see it from the lake. i borrowed two sashes from the men to wind round my feet. then we mounted, and with the lantern in front the little cavalcade moved off northwards to the camp, while the billows continued their ceaseless race towards the shore. [illustration: . camp at the yeshil-kul.] [illustration: . the pul-tso, looking east.] [illustration: . horses and mules in open country.] chapter x death in the jaws of wolves--or shipwreck when we marched on september over the old terraces of the lake and up to the threshold of the pass separating its basin from that of yeshil-kul, the view of lake lighten opened up more the higher we rose, and at length the whole of the great blue lake in all its beauty lay before us at the foot of the snowy mountains. the pasturage was excellent everywhere, and the pantholops antelopes in their surprise and perplexity often did not know in which direction to make their escape, and prompted by curiosity came thoughtlessly to meet us. the pass has a height of , feet. we had proceeded only a few paces on the other side when a complete change of scenery presented itself, as though a leaf of a large book had been turned over. the forms which had hitherto riveted our attention vanished forever, and new mountains lay before us, a new basin, and a new turquoise-blue lake--the yeshil-kul. to the south and south-west of the lake extend great flats of pure white salt; concentric rings and isolated pools indicate that yeshil-kul also is contracting (illustration ). during the following days we encamped in a country where the grazing was good but the water slightly salt. on the wide, flat plains on the west side of the lake stand long rows of cairns, heaps of earth or skulls, piled up at a distance of two or three yards apart. they look like boundary marks, but, in fact, have been erected by antelope hunters of the changpa tribe, tibetan nomads, who are the "northmen," or natives of the northern plateau, chang-tang, and who in this way drive the game into their nooses laid in a hole. it should be explained that antelopes have a decided objection to leaping over such lines, and will rather run along them till they come to the end. but before they reach it one of them has had the misfortune of putting his foot in a ditch with a noose in it. only a son of the wilderness, who passes his life in the open like the wild animals, could devise such a mode of capture. my ladakis informed me that the changpas no longer hunt here, for fear of the people of eastern turkestan, who have often shown themselves hostile. the th of september was another memorable day--my sails on tibetan lakes, curiously enough, almost always ended in adventures. of my ladakis five had been in the service of deasy and rawling, and two of them affirmed that a shiny spot east-south-east was the spring where captain deasy had encamped for ten days in july , and which he names in his narrative "fever camp." their indication agreed with deasy's map; so muhamed isa was ordered to lead the caravan thither, light a large beacon fire on the nearest point of the shore as soon as darkness set in, and keep two horses in readiness. our plan was to sail in an east-north-easterly direction for the northern shore, and thence southwards again to the signal fire. rehim ali was on this occasion assisted by robert, who subsequently developed into an excellent boatman. the lake was nearly quite calm; its water, owing to its small depth, is greener, but quite as clear as that of its western neighbour. it is so salt that everything that touches it, hands, boat, oars, etc., glitters with crystals of salt. the shore and bottom of the lake consist chiefly of clay cemented together by crystallized salt into slabs and blocks as hard as stone, so that great care must be exercised when the boat is pushed into the water, for these slabs have edges and corners as sharp as knives. the lake is a salt basin of approximately elliptical outline with very low banks; nowhere do mountains descend to the strand. the three-foot line runs about yards from the shore; but even yards out the depth is only feet. we executed our first line of soundings across the lake in the most delightful calm, and i steered the boat towards the point i had fixed by observations. at one o'clock the temperature was ° f. in the water, and ½° in the air. the depth increased very regularly, the maximum of . feet occurring not far from the northern shore. robert was much delighted with the sail, and begged that i would always take him with me in future, which i the more readily granted that he was always cheerful and lively, and that he gave me valuable help in all observations. a little bay on the north shore served us as a landing-place. we surveyed the neighbourhood, and then hurriedly ate our breakfast, consisting of bread, marmalade, _pâté de foie_, and water. my companions had brought sugar, a tea-pot and enamelled bowls, but left the tea behind; but this forgetfulness only raised our spirits. then we put off again to make for the spring to the south-east. a row of stone blocks and lumps of salt ran out from the landing-place east-south-eastwards, and the water here was so shallow that we had to propel our boat with great care. just as we had passed the last rock, of which i took a specimen, the west wind got up, the surface of the lake became agitated, and a couple of minutes later white horses appeared on the salt waves. "up with the sail and down with the lee-boards." the lake before us is tinted with shades of reddish purple, a reflexion from the clayey bottom; there it must be very shallow, but we shall soon pass it. "do you see the small white swirls in the south-west? those are the forerunners of the storm, which stirs up the salt particles," i said. "if the storm is bad, the boat will be broken on the sharp ledges of the bottom before we can reach land," remarked robert. "that is not clouds of salt," said rehim ali; "that is the smoke of fires." "but muhamed isa should be camping at sahib deasy's source; that lies towards the south-west." "there is no smoke there," replied robert, who had the field-glass; "perhaps they have not been able to cross the salt flats on the south of the lake." "then it is their beacon fires which we see; but we cannot cross over in this boat in a storm." "master," suggested robert, who always addressed me thus, "would it not be more prudent to land again before the storm reaches its height? we should be safe behind the stones, and we can gather a quantity of fuel before sunset." "yes, that will perhaps be best; this lake is much more dangerous in a storm than lake lighten. we have, indeed, no furs, but we shall manage. take in the sail and row behind the boulders. what are you gazing at?" "master, i see two large wolves, and we have no guns." he was right; two light, almost white, isegrims were pacing the shore. they were so placed that they must be able to scent us in the boat; the odour of fresh live meat tickled their noses. when we stopped they stopped too, and when we began to move they went on close to the margin of the water. "sooner or later you must come on shore, and then it will be our turn," perhaps they thought. rehim ali opined that they were scouts of a whole troop, and said it was dangerous to expose ourselves to an attack in the night. he had only a clasp-knife with him, and robert and i only pen-knives in our pockets; we had, therefore, little chance of defending ourselves successfully. robert, for his part, preferred the lake in a storm to the wolves. i had so often slept out of doors unarmed, that i no longer troubled myself about them. but in the midst of our consultation we were suddenly compelled to think of something else. the storm came whistling over the lake. [illustration: . death in the jaws of wolves--or shipwreck.] fortunately, the sail was still standing and the centre-boards were down; the wind caught the canvas, the water began to rush under the stern, and we shot smoothly southwards with a side wind. robert gave vent to a sigh of relief. "anything but wolves," he said. i made robert and rehim ali row to save time, and soon the two beasts were out of sight. "they will certainly gallop round the lake, they know quite well that we must land somewhere," said robert. he was quite right, the situation was exceedingly unpleasant; we had only a choice between the storm and the wolves. we could not depend on our people; they were evidently cut off from us by salt morasses, which it was dangerous to venture into. we would therefore try to reach a suitable point on the south shore before dark (illustration ). the hours fled past, and the sun sank in glowing yellow behind the mountains. for two hours we held on our course towards deasy's camp, but when the beacon fires became more distinct in the gathering twilight we changed our direction and steered southwards to reach our people. the distance, however, was hopelessly long, and just from that direction the storm blew, and in the broken, freakish light of the moon the waves looked as weird as playing dolphins. sometimes i was able to take some rapid soundings; they gave depths of and feet. our fate was just as uncertain as on the former occasion on lake lighten; we steered for the shore, but did not know how far off it was. rehim ali judged from the length of the path of moonlight on the water that it was a long distance. two more hours passed. i gave my orders to the oarsmen in english and turki. we had now the waves on our quarter, and if we did not parry their rolling, foaming crests they would fill the boat and sink it; so we had to sail straight against them. the situation was not a little exciting, but good luck attended us. the boat cut the waves cleanly, and we got only small splashes now and then. the spray trickled down our necks, was pleasantly cool, and had a saline taste. i again took soundings, and robert read the line: feet, then , and lastly . "now the southern shore cannot be very far," i said; but my companions remained still and listened. "what is it?" i asked. "a heavy storm from the west," answered rehim ali, letting his oar fall. a regular humming noise was heard in the distance, which came nearer and nearer. it was the storm, which swept over the lake with redoubled violence and lashed up foam from the waves. "we shall not reach the shore before it overtakes us. it will be here in a minute. master, we shall capsize if the waves become twice as high as they are now." the waves swelled with incredible rapidity, the curves in the streak of moonlight became greater and greater, we rocked as in a huge hammock. the sounding-line had just marked feet. how long would it be before the boat would ground on the hard, salt bottom, if it found itself in a trough between two waves? the lee-boards beat against the sides, the boat pitches and rolls, and any one who does not sit firmly and stiffen himself with his feet must go overboard. a terrible wave, like an all-devouring monster, comes down upon us, but the boat glides smoothly over it, and the next moment we are down in a trough so deep that all the horizon is concealed by the succeeding crest. we were not quick enough in negotiating this new wave; it ran along the gunwale and gave us a good foot-bath (illustration ). "master, it looks dangerous." "yes, it is not exactly pleasant, but keep quiet. we cannot land in such a sea. we must turn and make for the open lake. about midnight the storm may abate, and then we can land." "if we can only keep on rowing so long." "we will help ourselves with the sail." "i am not tired yet." to land on the southern shore would be certain shipwreck; we should all be drenched to the skin, and that is dangerous on this night when we cannot reckon on the slightest help from the caravan. we shall be frozen before the dawn. to look for fuel before the sun sets is not to be thought of, for the saline plains in the south are absolutely barren. no, we will turn. at the same moment we felt a violent blow, which made the boat tremble. the larboard oar, which rehim ali worked, had struck against the ground and started loose from the screw which fastened it to the gunwale. rehim ali managed to catch hold of it just in time, while he shouted, "it is only a stone's throw to the land." "why, how is this?--here the lake is quite smooth." "a promontory juts out into the lake. master, here we shall find shelter." "all right, then we are saved; row slowly till the boat takes ground." that soon happened, the sail was furled, the mast unshipped. we took off our boots and stockings, stepped into the water, and drew the boat on to dry land. my feet were so numbed in the briny water, cooled down to °, that i could not stand, and had to sit down and wrap my feet in my ulster. we found a patch of lumps of salt, thoroughly moist, indeed, though drier than elsewhere, and the best spot to be had; for water lay all around us, and the bank was extremely low. how far it was to really dry ground we could not ascertain; the moon threw a faintly shining strip of light for a considerable distance farther towards the land. while i endeavoured to restore life to my feet by friction, the others carried our belongings to our wretched salt island. then the boat was taken to pieces, and the two halves were set up as shelters. at nine o'clock we noted ° on the thermometer, and at midnight ½°; yet it was warmer now than on the previous days, for the water of the lake retains some of the heat of the summer air. muhamed isa had made a new roller for the sounding-line, with frame and handle, out of an empty box; it was of course immediately utilized as fuel. the provision bags and the water-cans were brought out again, and we drank one cup of hot sugar-and-water after another, and tried to imagine it was tea. as long as the fire lasted we should not freeze--but then, what a night! towards ten o'clock the wind abated--now came the night frost. we lay down on the life-buoys to avoid direct contact with the briny soil; robert had the fur coat, i the ulster, and rehim ali wrapped himself in the sail. he slept huddled up together, with his forehead on the ground, as is the mohammedan custom, and he did really sleep. robert and i rolled ourselves together in a bunch, but of what use was it? one cannot sleep just before freezing. my feet were, indeed, past feeling, but this consolation was a sorry one. i stood up and stamped on the salt patch, and tried to walk without moving, for the space was very limited. i sang and whistled, i hummed a song, and imitated the howl of the wolves to see if they would reply. but the silence was unbroken. i told anecdotes to robert, but he was not amused by them. i related adventures i had had before with wolves and storms, but they had little encouraging effect in our present position. we looked in vain for a fire; there was nothing to be seen in any direction. the moon slowly approached the horizon. the wind had sunk entirely. little by little the salt waves, splashing melodiously against the shore, also sank to rest--an awful silence reigned around. we were too cold to think much of the wolves. twice we raised a wild scream, but the sound of our voices died away suddenly without awaking the slightest echo; how could it reach the camping-ground? "now it is midnight, robert; in four hours it will be day." "master, i have never been so starved in my life. if i get back to india alive, i shall never forget this dreadful night on yeshil-kul and the hungry wolves on the shore, though i live to a hundred." "oh, nonsense. you will think of it with longing, and be glad that you were here." "it is all very fine to look back on, but at present i should be delighted to have my warm bed in the tent and a fire." "life in tibet is too monotonous without adventures; one day's journey is like another, and we want a little change occasionally to wake us up. but we will take tea and firewood with us next time." "shall you have more of such lake voyages, master?" "certainly, if there is an opportunity; but i fear that the winter cold will soon make them impossible." "will it, then, be still colder than now?" "yes, this is nothing to what the cold will be in two months." "what time is it, master?" "two o'clock; we shall soon have been lying six hours on the morass." [illustration: . a dangerous situation on the yeshil-kul. in moonshine.] we nodded a little once more, but did not really sleep for a minute; from time to time robert told me how badly his feet were frozen. at three o'clock he exclaimed, after a long silence: "now i have no more feeling in any of my toes." "the sun will soon come." at a quarter past four begins a faint glimmer of dawn. we are so chilled through that we can hardly stand up. but at length we pull ourselves up and stamp on the ground. then we cower again over the cold ashes of our fire. we constantly look to the east and watch the new day, which slowly peeps over the mountains as though it would look about before it ventures out. at five o'clock the highest peaks receive a purple tinge, and we cast a faint shadow on the bottom of the boat, and then the sun rises, cold and bright-yellow, over the crest to the east. now the springs of life revive. rehim ali has disappeared for an hour, and now we see him tramping through the swamp with a large bundle of wood, and soon we have kindled a sparkling, crackling fire. we undress to get rid of our wet and cold clothes, and warm our bodies at the flames, and soon our limbs are supple again. then muhamed isa's tall figure appears on horseback in the distance. he ties a cord to the foreleg of his horse and leaves it at the edge of the swamp, while he proceeds on foot. when i was suffering most severely from cold i had composed a sharp curtain-lecture for him as soon as we met. but now when i caught sight of my excellent caravan leader i forgot it all, for i had to admit the validity of his reasons for delay. the caravan was long detained in dangerous, unstable ground, and the men had to carry everything. we went together to deasy's camp, which the caravan reached also. when the sun attained its highest altitude at mid-day, it found me still in the arms of morpheus. i take it for granted that my two companions also requited themselves for the loss of their night's rest. on the morning of september two horses were nearing their end; they could not get on their feet and had to be killed; one had died in the previous camp, and one fell on the march. we had lost horses out of , and only mule out of ; these figures are distinctly in favour of the mules. we now rode along the great longitudinal valley, where favourable ground made our progress easy, and passed a salt basin, with a pool in the middle surrounded by concentric rings of desiccation as regular as the benches of an amphitheatre. before us in the distance was seen the caravan in two detachments, appearing like two small black spots in the boundless open landscape. i was deeply impressed by my own insignificance compared to the distances on the earth's surface, and when i remembered that we travelled at most miles a day, i was overwhelmed at the thought of the length of way we must traverse before we had crossed tibet. wolves were seen at the foot of a hill; perhaps they were our acquaintances of yesterday. we had to leave them, much against our will, an abundant banquet at the last camp, where six ravens had swooped down on our fallen horses. one of the uppermost "benches," which stood some feet above the surface of the pool, afforded a capital road. round about the soil was chalky white with salt. to the right of us was a low, brownish-purple ridge. soon, with my usual companions, robert and rehim ali, i came up with a worn-out horse. he did not look at all emaciated, but he had been relieved from duty for several days in hopes of saving his life. his guide came into camp in the evening, and reported that he had collapsed on the road and expired. the country is somewhat hilly, but solid rock seldom crops out, and then it is limestone and light-green clay-slate. the camping-ground on this day, no. , had an interest of its own. captain h. h. p. deasy, on his remarkable expedition through west tibet and eastern turkestan during the years - , had great difficulties to contend with, and lost so many animals that, in order to save the expedition and its results, he had to leave behind a large part of his baggage and provisions, in short, everything that could be spared at all. in the year captain cecil rawling made an equally meritorious journey of exploration through the same parts of tibet, and as he found himself in a very critical situation through want of provisions, he decided to search for deasy's depôt, which, according to the map, must be somewhere in the neighbourhood. two of rawling's men, ram sing and sonam tsering, had also accompanied deasy, and sonam tsering was able to point out the place where the baggage and provisions had been buried. thanks to the stores of rice, meal, and barley, found there in the wilderness, rawling was able to save his horses, which would otherwise have been lost, and a small bag of horse-shoes and nails came in very usefully for their hoofs. sonam tsering now accompanied me on my expedition. i had ordered him in the morning to halt at deasy's and rawling's camp, and therefore he marched on this day in the front with the mules. it was, of course, of great importance for my route survey to visit a spot so accurately fixed. there was not the slightest difficulty in finding the spot, and when we reached the camp, which lay on a small flat space between gently rounded hills, muhamed isa had already digged out seven boxes. one of them contained flour, which had gone quite bad in the long interval, and probably was already spoiled when rawling was here three years before. only one box was of tibetan workmanship, for rawling, as sonam tsering informed me, had exchanged some of his worn-out kashmir boxes for deasy's turkestan chests, which were much better. but even rawling's boxes were better than the easily damaged wooden boxes from leh, in which we kept candles and tinned meats. we therefore appropriated some of them and used our own as firewood. after all, rawling had so thoroughly ransacked the depôt that there was very little left for me; but i was not in such urgent need of the goods. some boxes of american beef were very welcome to the dogs, but the men despised them as long as we had fresh mutton. cubical tins, which had contained indian meal, lay all about the place. one of the boxes held a quantity of empty cartridge-cases; they had not been used, and sonam tsering believed that the changpas had been here a couple of years after rawling, and had picked out the powder; he pointed out to me one or two fireplaces, which seemed much more recent. in another box we found a shipping almanac and some map-sheets of upper burma--deasy had planned to pass into that country, but had been prevented by sickness and death in his caravan. a packet of blotting-paper came in very handy, for robert had started a herbarium for me; and muhamed isa discovered some ropes in good condition. besides these things, we took only a couple of novels and bowers' description of his journey in tibet in , a welcome addition to my very scanty library (illustration ). we were now in a country which several travellers had visited before me. wellby and malcolm, who discovered lake lighten, a lake already touched by crosby, i have already mentioned. dutreuil de rhins, wellby and malcolm, deasy, rawling, and the austrian naturalist, zugmayer ( ), had been at yeshil-kul. i crossed the route of the last a couple of months after his journey; he, like the frenchman and the english explorer, has written a valuable book on his observations. at the time i knew nothing of his journey, but now i find that i crossed his route only at one point. wellby's and dutreuil de rhins' paths i crossed only once, but deasy's at two points. in the following days it was harder to avoid the districts where wellby and rawling had been, and where the latter especially, with the help of native surveyors, had compiled such an accurate and reliable map that i had no prospect of improving it. consequently, i longed for country which had never been touched by other travellers. my camp was identical with rawling's no. , and his expedition had skirted the lake pul-tso, which lay a day's march in front of us, both on the northern and southern side. therefore, to avoid his route, i made for the middle of this lake, which stretches north and south, an unusual orientation. when the great caravan is loaded up, and starts at sunrise, the camp is usually full of noise and commotion. in consequence of our daily loss of baggage horses the loads have always to be re-arranged; when, however, the crowd has moved off, all is quiet again, the iron brazier and the hot bath-water are brought, and in my tent, with its opening turned to the east, because the prevailing wind blows from the west, it is soon as hot as in a vapour bath. this heat often tempts one to put on lighter clothing, but one soon regrets it, for it is always cold outside. then we go on through the desolate country where three expeditions have converged to the same point. the soil is brick-red, the pasturage good everywhere. to the south lie low hills with arched tops, to the north stretches the immense mountain system of the kuen-lun with several imposing mountain masses covered with eternal snow, and just in front of us rises the colossal dome-shaped, snow-covered massive, which rawling named the "deasy group." we had seen this gigantic elevation from yeshil-kul, and it would serve us for a landmark for several days to come. the caravan encamped on the bank of the pul-tso ( , feet) near a small rock of limestone. tundup sonam, the "grand court huntsman" of the caravan, begged to be allowed to go out shooting, and was given four cartridges. after a few hours he returned with three cartridges, and showed a yak's tail as a proof that he had killed a huge beast, which he had found grazing peacefully by itself behind the hills to the south. now the caravan had fresh meat to last ten days; "and when it is consumed, tundup will shoot us another yak," said muhamed isa, who was always much pleased when men he had picked out made a good job of their work. i had marrow from the yak's bones for dinner--a dish that would not have disgraced the table of lucullus (illustrations , ). chapter xi great losses we had scarcely pitched our camp on the west shore of the pul-tso when muhamed isa came to ask for a day's rest. the grazing, he said, was good, fuel abundant, and the animals needed a little time to recover. i fell in with his wishes the more readily that they fitted in with my own plans--another lake voyage. i intended to go with robert and rehim ali early in the morning across the lake in the direction of a precipitous mountain which lay ° east of north; then we would sail over to the south bank and pass the night at a mountain ° east of south. the following morning we expected to reach the north-east corner of the lake, where the caravan would wait for us on the yellowish-green pastureland. we should thus take two days on the lake to cover a distance which the caravan would traverse in one day. we would take with us food, warm clothing and bedding, and a quantity of fuel, that we might not be in such straits as last time. water was not wanted; the lake water was potable, though it had a rather queer taste. the lake looked very inviting and picturesque at even, its perfectly smooth mirror lying dark, dreamy, and silent between the mountains capped with eternal snow. great, reeking fires of dung burned cheerfully among the tents, the men prepared their supper, or mended the pack-saddles, chatting merrily the while; all was quiet and peaceful, and the moon floated, silvery white and cold, among rose-coloured clouds. [illustration: . at deasy's camp.] [illustration: . afternoon tea in the open air.] [illustration: . melting snow for drinking-water.] then i hear far in the east a droning sound, which swells up rapidly, comes nearer, and changes into deafening thunder, and in a moment a very violent storm sweeps over the shore. i call men to close the opening of my tent. i hear robert raise a whoop as his airy dwelling flaps about and threatens to split up into shreds. but a dozen men set it to rights again. then my tent is strengthened with sand heaps and boxes; i am shut in with my brazier, but a small spy-hole is left in the tent opening. the moonshine glistens on the surf of the billows rolling against the shore--a grand spectacle--wild, weird, almost theatrical in its beauty. a storm of unsurpassed violence rushes ruthlessly along. it sounds like express trains rolling through covered stations; it lashes, roars, and howls, and dashes the surf thundering against the beach. the fires, but now flickering so cheerfully, are put out; the spray is spurted out like rockets; i hear muhamed isa's tent flapping about; then the sound of men's voices is heard no more, only the howling of the storm and the thunder of the waves disturb the silence of the wilderness. if i do but look out of my spy-hole i am almost suffocated by the pressure of the condensed air. only the yaks delight in such weather; they grunt and snort with pleasure when the long black fringes of hair on their flanks flutter in the gusts. september , however, was clear, the storm had sped off on its course to the west, and the dull splashing of the swell on the beach was all that was left of its fury. before we were half way along the first line of soundings, the lake was again as smooth as a mirror; it was only flecked with small flakes of foam left behind by the storm. the water had been too thoroughly stirred up to be clear. we took little more than an hour to reach the rocky promontory, sounding on our way a maximum depth of nearly feet. we left on the north a considerable bay which the caravan would have to go round. after a short rest we continued our voyage to the south-east, and were well helped on our way by a gentle northerly breeze. this time we reached the shore without any adventures and before sunset. we landed with all our belongings. rehim ali collected heaps of dry dung, robert set the camp in order, and i cruised about in the evening breeze till twilight came, and cold and darkness surrounded our bivouac. we sat down by the fire, talked, and cooked. the mince of fried sheep's brains and kidneys tasted delicious in the open-air. to the west we could see the fires at camp no. . later in the evening a strong east wind rose up again, and the waves dashed against the shore barely two yards from us. we rolled ourselves in our furs and gazed into the fire; the head is never so full of projects and aspirations as when the eyes follow the play of the blue flickering flames and the fiery forms that arise in the glow. but the storm increased in violence, we could hardly keep the fire alive, and soon we crept under the boat, which we used as a shelter without taking it to pieces. we all three lay in this improvised tent, and strengthened it with the sail and two tarpaulin cases, which covered the halves of the boat on the march, and which we had brought with us to protect our night wraps and beds in bad weather. above us hung a lantern which we extinguished when we were ready; now the moon shone on the sail, the tempest howled and moaned round the boat, and the surf soon lulled us to sleep. the minimum thermometer marked °; it is always warmer near lakes. we were early on our feet, a good fire put new life into us, and we breakfasted beside it, the sun looking on. our berth for the night was restored to its element, the baggage was packed in, we stepped on board and steered eastwards to the entrance of a passage which divides the pul-tso into two basins. its breadth is about yards; in the southern basin the water was often almost red with small crustaceæ. we crossed it south-westwards, and found depths of barely feet. then a strong breeze came up from the north-west, and the waves splashed and lapped against the boat. if we only got a south-west wind we could easily sail to the appointed rendezvous. we would wait a little by the shore. it curves gracefully, and has four terraces, each about two yards high. on the sail back a new line was sounded, the maximum depth being about feet. now we had a favourable wind on the quarter, let down the weather-board, hoisted the sail, and danced along to the strait. as we came up to its eastern point, a rider with spare horses and several men on foot came in sight. it was muhamed isa coming to meet us. now rabsang relieved rehim ali, but he was so awkward with the oars, that we preferred to take back our old oarsman. we said good-bye to the rescue party, and steered northwards over the northern basin of the lake, where the depths were feet at most. unfortunately the wind veered to the north, so that we were thoroughly chilled through during the two hours' sail to the north shore. muhamed isa had brought us sad news: two more horses and a mule had died at camp no. ; in the evening another horse died. otherwise the caravan at camp no. was sound and lively. therefore we were the more astonished to see a large fire at the abandoned camping-ground in the west. the caravan had started towards eight o'clock in the morning, and now it was four o'clock in the afternoon. not a soul had remained behind in camp no. , and yet there was the fire; we saw flames and smoke, which hung like a great veil over the shore. rehim ali thought that the post from ladak had caught us up at last. "no, that is impossible; a post-runner cannot travel so far and carry his rations with him." "but the camp-fire must have gone out immediately after the departure of the caravan. a fire does not burn so brightly with no one to attend to it." "the smoke of camp no. can be plainly seen from camp no. . if the post had reached camp no. it would not have stayed there a minute, but would have hurried on to join us before night." "yes, sahib, but perhaps the messenger is so exhausted that he is signalling for help." "may it not be changpas?" remarked robert. "yes, certainly, it may be tibetans, sent from the south to order us to stop, or at least to watch us, and report to the nearest headman." "master, perhaps we shall have to stop sooner than we think. what is to happen then?" "i do not think that the tibetans can interfere with us so far to the north; they cannot force us to turn back. at the worst we shall have to pass eastwards through central tibet to china or burma, as bower did." "look, now, how it smokes; this great fire must mean something." "yes, it is a regular will-o'-the-wisp, a saint elmo fire. the gods of the lake have lighted it to lead us astray." "i believe it is the post, but the fire looks uncanny," said rehim ali, and rowed with all his might. "do not disturb yourself. if it is the post we shall hear of the messenger before evening; i believe that the camp-fire has not gone out, but has smouldered on in a sheltered spot all day long; when the wind changed, some reserve heap of dung caught fire, and, fanned by the north wind, it has burst into flames." at six o'clock we were home again. after i had taken a much-needed meal i summoned muhamed isa and sonam tsering to a consultation. "how many horses have we left?"--"forty." "how many mules?"--"thirty-four." "are they in fairly good condition?"--"no, sahib, not all; four of my horses and six of sonam's are at the point of death, and five mules." "we shall, then, have more losses soon?" "yes, alas! but to save all we can, the strongest animals must now have maize and barley; the sickly ones must forage for themselves till their hour comes. they are certainly doomed." "that is barbarous; give them at least something. perhaps some may be saved."--"we must be very sparing with the forage, sahib." the management of the caravan-bashi was prudent, but cruel. at seven o'clock the storm came. it was the third evening we had had violent east winds, a direction exceedingly infrequent in tibet. it came like a stroke, and put an end to all our peacefulness, stopped all conversation, interfered with all kinds of work, extinguished the camp-fires, blew sand and dust into my tent, and prevented the tired animals from grazing; for they will not feed in a storm. they place themselves with their tails to the wind, keep all four legs as close together as possible, and hang their heads. so they remain standing, and wait till it is quiet again. they had to wait all night long, and perhaps, sleepy and heavy-headed, dreamed of the heartlessness of men and the peaceful, sunny slopes at tankse and leh. in the evening muhamed isa and i inspected them. the moon shone brightly, but its cold, bluish light made the piercing wind seem more icy than usual. the animals stood, like ghosts, so motionless in the night, that one would think that they were already turned into ice. not the cold, but the wind, kills our horses; all my people say so. winter was coming down upon our mountains in all its severity. the rarefaction of the air and the scanty pasturage were the worst troubles. the wind whistled mournfully round the corners as i went to sleep, and the same sound fell on my ear in the morning as tsering, muffled up in a thick fur coat, brought the brazier in. a dreary morning! everything in the tent was buried under a thick layer of dust and drift sand, and i was thoroughly frozen before i had dressed. the horses and mules had gone forward eastwards, but i did not start till nine o'clock--in a furious storm. just outside the camp the last horse that had perished lay cold and hard as ice. tsering told me that he was scarcely a stone's throw from the body when the wolves had already crept up to feast on it. the ground is good, sand, dust, and fine gravel. afterwards the soil becomes brick-red. one cannot see far, the air is hazy and the sky overcast, but as far as the sight can carry, only low mountains are visible. one or two brooks, almost frozen up, run out of side valleys on the north. we slowly ascend to a pass, whence the country eastwards seems just as level and favourable as hitherto. here i am following rawling's route; his map corresponds to the actual conditions in the smallest details. it is quite a different thing to ride against the storm over rising ground, and to have the wind on one's back going downhill. we work our way through the wind, which penetrates our furs, and in ten minutes are quite numbed. i can scarcely use my hands for mapping work; now and then i thrust them into the sleeves of my coat, lean far forwards, and let the horse find its own way. two more horses die before the evening; a third was led nearly to the camp; he looked fat and sleek, but he tumbled down. when i rode into camp i had had more than enough of this terrible day. a bright fire was burning in the fort of provision boxes, by which we chatted awhile, waiting for tsering. the camp fort shrank up day by day at an alarming rate, but the animals died so quickly that the loads were, nevertheless, too heavy. but it was muhamed isa's opinion that enough mules would be left till we got to the dangra-yum-tso, and that no baggage need be left behind. in case of necessity the boat and a couple of tents might be sacrificed. empty provision chests were consumed at once as firewood. undoubtedly we should reach the distant lake in a state of utter helplessness. without assistance we could proceed no further. then the tibetans could easily stop us. we were therefore a prey to great anxiety, which increased every day. "if the animals founder at the same rate as at present, we shall not reach the nearest nomads." "sahib, the strongest are still alive." "yes, that is always your consolation; but in a few days some of the strongest will be dying." "the wind kills them. if we had only a few days of calm weather!" "there is no prospect of that at this season of the year. this storm has now lasted hours. then come the winter storms from the south-west." on october i wrote in my diary: "what will be our experiences in this new month? at eight o'clock the tempest still raged, and the ride to-day was worse than before." flat, open country. only one or two hills of red sandstone and conglomerate with green schist--otherwise no hard rock. the deasy group, towering to the south, seems nearer and nearer. the horse, no. , lies in a pool of frozen blood, cold and bare, for the pack-saddle has been removed for the sake of the hay. during the night three horses had stampeded, and were searched for by muhamed isa and three ladakis. stupid animals, to tire themselves out for nothing! some unaccountable restlessness seemed to have driven them from the spot where they were unloaded. the poor things perhaps thought they could find better grass than our hard-heartedness allowed them. we approached a very small freshwater lake, by which both wellby and deasy had rested. a fourth of its surface was frozen over, and on its west bank the storm had reared up a wall of ice fragments a foot high. an icy brook descended from the deasy group into the lake. the water of the lake was cooled down below freezing-point; a few more hours of perfect calm and the whole lake would be frozen over. on the bank sonam tsering found three old tent-poles with the iron rings still on them. he could not remember that rawling had left them here: probably they were a memento of wellby's visit. tundup sonam had killed an antelope, and for my dinner i was served with fragrant _shislik_ roasted on a spit. tsering knew his work; he had been cook to beach and lennart, whom i met in kashgar in , and was more skilful than "the black fellow," as muhamed isa contemptuously styled the late manuel. the lamaists among my ladakis told me in confidence that they prayed every evening to their gods for a lucky journey. they were just as eager as myself to reach shigatse and the holy monastery tashi-lunpo, where the tashi lama resides. for then they would receive a title of honour, just as a mohammedan becomes "hajji" when he has been in mecca. they would willingly pay their peter's pence, seven rupees for butter for the altar lamps, nay, would give up a whole month's pay as a present to his holiness, the tashi lama. their aim was to bring a pilgrimage to a successful termination; mine to fill up as many blanks as possible in the map of tibet. we must succeed! heaven befriend us! no one minded that we had not a single man as escort. yet with every day we were getting nearer to inhabited country, and were advancing into a land which had recently ( ) been at feud with its powerful neighbour on the south. the tibetans were ever hostile to europeans, and after the slaughter at guru and tuna they would probably be still more bitter against them. we had neither passport nor permission to enter the forbidden land. how should we prosper? our excitement was always increasing. should we be received as open enemies, and after all wish ourselves back with the wolves on the banks of yeshil-kul? october . thirty-six degrees of frost in the night--and we hear nothing of rabsang! has anything happened to him? shukkur ali is sent back along the caravan track with meat, tea, and bread. a mule, which can no longer keep on its feet, is killed in the camp. when the wind falls occasionally, it is singularly quiet. the landscape is still monotonous--a boundless, gently rising plain. north and south the two mountain ranges with their snow-peaks still run on. grass and _yapkak_ grow on all sides. hour after hour we ride east-north-east without any change of scenery. i look forward to the moment when we shall turn towards the south-east, but that is far off, for i must first pass round all the region that rawling explored. the animals will then have still harder work, for we shall have to cross several passes. the ranges run from east to west; meanwhile we are marching between two of them, later on we shall have to go over them. i examine the animals daily with great anxiety, and fix my hopes on the strongest, the select troop which will hold out to the last. how depressed i feel when one of them slips its collar. at camp no. , beside a salt pool, the animals are mustered as usual. they understand the summons when the corn-bags are ready. then they are turned out to graze. empty provision sacks and pack-saddles serve as cloths to protect the animals from the cold at night. for the mules small triangular pieces are cut to bind over their foreheads, where they are supposed to be most susceptible to cold. outside the ladakis' enclosure stand our twenty goats and sheep, tied head to head into a compact group, so that they may keep one another warm. this day the moon rose blood-red over the mountains in the east. it became quickly paler the higher it rose, and the snowy mountains shone as white as the steam of an engine. the evening was calm, and the tent was easily heated in camp no. . yet the temperature sank to - °--and rabsang was still missing. had the wolves torn him in pieces? next morning, however, he turned up in shukkur ali's company, but without the horse. he had followed the trail of the wandering animal for a long distance, and in the sand on the shore of the small lake had been able to read the story of a tragic incident with almost dramatic vividness. the tracks showed that the horse had galloped madly about, pursued by a troop of wolves on either side. they had chased their victim on to a narrow strip of mud ending in a point. there he had found only one track of the horse, which disappeared in the slowly deepening bed of the lake. but the wolves had left a double track--they had come back. they thought to fall upon the horse on the landspit, where he could not run further, but they had made a mistake. rabsang maintained that their confusion was reflected in their backward trail. the helpless horse, driven to desperation by the wild and hungry jaws opened wide to devour him, plunged into the water, preferring to drown rather than fall into the clutches of his persecutors. not a drop of blood could be seen. if he had attempted to swim across the lake, he must have died of cramp; if he had turned back to the shore, the wolves would have waited for him and not have retired into the mountains. he was a hero, and now i felt his loss doubly; he was one of the best in the caravan, a sanskari, and had long carried the heaviest boxes of silver. the picture of his bold spring into the water, and of his desperation bordering on frenzy, long haunted my imagination, when i lay awake at night, and i thought of the horse on which marcus curtius plunged into the abyss. the day's march took us further along the same even plain, where at length every trace of vegetation ceased. at camp no. there was, alas! no pasturage, and so we had to lead the horses to the foot of the mountains where grass grew sparingly. october . we continue our journey to the east-north-east, and there is not the slightest change in the country. like a squirrel in a revolving cage, we go on and on and yet find ourselves always in the same country; north and south the same summits appear, and their profiles change but slowly. deasy named this great open longitudinal valley "antelope plain." rawling traversed its south-western portion in two directions, and my route runs between them on the left bank of its very broad, but now waterless, drainage channel. we suppose that the salt lake, which wellby skirted on the south, must lie to the east-north-east, but it is not yet visible. yellow grass again appears on both sides, and the camp is pitched beside a small basin of splendid spring-water. as soon as the animals are relieved of their loads and let loose, we notice that a third begin to graze at once, another third stand resting with drooping heads, and the remaining third lie down immediately. the first are the best and strongest horses, the last those that are most exhausted. among these is horse no. , which has to be killed next morning; he is entered in the list of dead as no. . muhamed isa does not now set out before half-past eight in the morning. he has noticed that the animals feed with a better appetite in the early hours after sunrise. the broad, hard river-bed is an excellent road, quite a highway, descending with an extremely slight gradient. during the last days the needles of the aneroids have remained almost stationary at the same figure. to the north we have still the kuen-lun, sometimes as masses of dark rock, sometimes with snow-capped, rounded summits. at one o'clock i always make a short halt with robert and rehim ali to read the meteorological instruments. the journal is kept by robert with the greatest care. i draw a panorama and take bearings, while our horses stray about grazing. we take no food at that time, for we eat only twice a day--at eight o'clock in the morning and six in the evening. yet the short mid-day rest is very welcome. we are by that time thoroughly frozen; we can more easily keep ourselves warm on the ground than in the saddle, where we are fully exposed to the wind. we have not seen a drop of water all day long, and the caravan is evidently looking for a spring, for we see scouts making off from time to time to the right and left. at length they discover a large pond, and there the tents are set up. we have marched lately about nine miles a day--we cannot do more. we had scarcely set out on the morning of october when the camping-ground was inspected by wolves on the look-out for another horse. they follow us as faithfully as the ravens, and perhaps receive reinforcements from time to time. strict orders are issued that the night watch must be responsible for the animals, and will be punished if we suffer any loss from the wolves. the six ravens also still stick to us. they settle when we encamp, they set out with us, and follow us all day long with their hoarse croaking. we pass over the river-bed, now containing water and ice, but still the low hills hide the expected lake. otherwise the ground is level, so level that only the languid movement of the stream shows in which direction the land dips. yellow sand-whirls in the north-west indicate the approach of a storm, which comes upon us out of a clear sky. within half an hour it passes into an easterly storm, a typical cyclone. worn out with the cold we arrive at camp no. . the puppies are now quite big, and up to all kinds of mischief. it is recorded against the white puppy that she has torn up one of my map-sheets. fortunately, none of the fragments is wanting. tsering also found a toothbrush in front of my tent, which the silly dog must have considered superfluous. the brown puppy bit in two a hydrometer, which was lying about in its leathern case. their education is very defective, but they are foundlings from the streets of srinagar, and we cannot therefore expect much of them. they have not the slightest notion of discipline, and they do not obey when they are called. but when tsering brings the dinner they come to heel at once, put on a show of amiability, and force themselves to the front by some means or other. they are not of much use; they keep my feet warm at night, for then they lie rolled up together on my bed. forty-five degrees of frost in the night! that was perhaps why i had such a horrid dream: a whole host of dark tibetans came to meet us, and drove us back to the north. the water in the basin and the ink are lumps of ice. now we have left rawling far behind us, and wellby and malcolm's is the last route which has been traversed in this region. we are still following the same valley as that expedition. our store of yak meat was just at an end when tundup sonam killed an antelope. a second, unfortunately, he only wounded, and it escaped on three legs. one of our wolves was pacing about on a hill. he had closely watched the chase, and the wounded animal would probably become his prey. muhamed isa, in his thick grey winter suit and with his pipe in his mouth, moves about, and is guiding the caravan up between the hills when we overtake him. we ascend to the summit of a hill. a white line appears, and below it a bluish-green stripe which gradually increases in dimensions. after a few minutes we have the salt lake we have been looking for immediately below us, for the hills slope steeply to the southern shore. now the ladakis commence one of their finest march songs in soft, melting tones; they are glad to have reached this lake which i have spoken of constantly, and, like myself, remind themselves that we have reached another stage on the long journey to dangra-yum-tso. to the north-west the scenery is grand, with the great mountains, their snow-capped peaks and great glaciers. continuing the direction of the sea westwards is flat land white with salt, and there white eddies dance, whirling along the dismal shore. east-north-east the longitudinal valley is as open as before; there wellby travelled. we can now, if we wish, turn aside to the south-east without again coming in contact with rawling's route. there new country awaits us, the great triangle between wellby's, bower's, and dutreuil de rhins' routes. it had been one of my most cherished hopes to cross, at least once, the great white patch which bears on the english map of tibet nothing but the one word "unexplored." chapter xii in unknown country in the middle of the night i was awaked by seven mules, which stood close to my tent stamping about on its ropes. i went out to drive them away, but when i saw how piteously cold they were, and how closely they crowded together, i let them alone. one of them lay dead in the morning beside my tent, with its belly swollen all out of shape. green schists form small ledges and strips on the otherwise soft ground, so that at a distance the land seems striped with black. here and there veins of quartz crop out. reddish-purple hills appear on the western horizon, and the country becomes more uneven. after a while we pass the sheep driven by the men in the wake of the caravan. they travel very slowly, grazing as they go; we have still left. to-day the water is a difficulty. some is found by digging at a depth of a foot, but it is briny. the day's march is therefore longer than usual, miles, but then we come to a spring. on the eve of a day of rest we feel as though it were saturday evening and there were no school next day. we intended to spend october in camp no. ; i had not given a day's rest for days. all were delighted, and the ladakis, in anticipation of the day of rest, arranged an _al fresco_ feast round a great camp-fire. the refreshments were the same as usual: tea in wooden bowls, parched meal, and roasted antelope meat--spirituous liquors of any kind were prohibited in our caravan. but, nevertheless, the men were in a right jovial mood; they danced round the fire, and sang a lively song with a chorus culminating in barbaric, shrill-sounding laughter. they rejoiced that they had proceeded so far and still possessed sufficient power of resistance to undergo severe hardships. we have travelled miles from the karakorum, and there are more to the dangra-yum-tso. but we are nearer the lake than we are to leh, and so have really more than half the journey behind us. after degrees of frost in the night, october dawned with brilliant weather, sunny and calm. horse no. was the twenty-sixth martyr of the caravan; he lay dead on the field. we passed another which was reduced to a skeleton and never reached the camp. we travelled east-south-east, and had now to leave the longitudinal valley through which wellby had traversed the whole of north tibet. a small hollow in the ground was crossed, and the camp was pitched among the hills on its south side. the brown puppy had behaved so disgracefully that she had to lie outside as a punishment. she howled and whined piteously, but slept after she had been covered with a frieze rug. next day she had to travel with the mules to her shame. in the night another horse died. red and yellowish-grey hills begirt the way, which led up in three hours to a small flat saddle, whence the view eastwards seemed boundless. had it been our intention to proceed farther in this direction we should have encountered no difficulties in the nature of the ground for many days to come, but my unalterable goal was the dangra-yum-tso, and therefore we must direct our course south-eastwards. there a dark chain with an irregular, toothed crest soon came into view. between its summits were seen deeply-cut saddle-formed gaps; but, to our chagrin, they were more difficult to surmount than they appeared, and the slightest rise in the ground was felt by our caravan in its prostrate condition. the ground was all honeycombed with the holes of the abominable field-mice, but the holes were not so treacherous now, for the soil was frozen, and held firm when we rode over the subterranean catacombs connected by a network of passages. again we mounted a small swell in the ground ( , feet). we saw before us a dark point in the track of the caravan; it was a dead mule, which slept his last sleep with wide-open eyes beside his pack-saddle. behind a hill we surprised a large, handsome fox, which made off in a great hurry as we drew near. but he could not refrain from frequently turning round and staring at us; he had probably never seen a human being before. at camp no. there was not a drop of water, but we were not able to travel further. we had with us two goat's leather bottles filled with ice which sufficed for our tea; but the animals had to go without water. however, we could not complain; it was the first time since leh that we had had no water. an unusual sight greeted us on the morning of october ; the whole country was covered with snow. but scarcely had the sun mounted up, when the snow melted and the ground was dry. the caravan set out early for the sake of the thirsty animals. now we kept on a south-easterly course, leaving out of the range of our vision the lake discovered by rawling, and named "lake markham" after the former distinguished president of the royal geographical society in london. again we pass a horse with its throat cut; it is reddish-brown, and contrasts strongly with the grey, sandy soil. the eyes have already been picked out by the six ravens which sit like black ghouls round the fallen beast and hold a wake. a little farther something suspicious again appears in the track of the caravan--it is the sixth mule. he has collapsed on the march and has not to be killed; he is still soft and warm, and his eyes have not lost their brightness, but the ravens will soon be here, for they follow the caravan like dolphins in the wake of a vessel. for every animal that falls there is a horse-cloth to spare for his comrades. they will need it when the severe cold of winter comes. the two victims to-day have long been released from duty, but they had to follow on till they died, for there was always a hope that they would recover--a vain one, indeed. the trail leads us to the mouth of a valley, where we soon come up with the caravan--all the animals have their heads in a brook, they have had to thirst so long. the valley must come down from a pass, so we march up it. it becomes narrower and narrower, till at length there is a passage only five yards broad between walls of schists tilted up vertically. by the brook lay the bleached skull of an ammon sheep with fine horns (illustrations , ). we found shelter from the cutting wind at the foot of a precipitous wall of rock on the left side of the valley, and there set up our tent poles. muhamed isa climbed a height opposite, taking the field-glass. "a labyrinth of small mountains," was his unsatisfactory report. by this time we had lost horses and mules, and had only horses and mules. "the strongest animals are still living," was muhamed isa's consolation. october . the night with degrees of frost deprived us of another horse and a mule. their bones are bleaching in camp no. , and are tokens of our visit. a heavy march over very undulating ground. we had to cross over three small, trying passes. a good deal of snow still lay on the ground. to our right extended a red mountain crest, and in a gorge a waterfall was congealed into a mass of ice. muhamed isa had erected three cairns to show us the way where the track of the caravan became indistinct on pebbly ground. on the first pass the prospect was dreary, nothing but pink, purple, and yellow mountains. on the north the turkestan mountains still dominated the landscape with their majestic peaks, a row of imperial crowns far above the rest. fifty degrees east of north we fancied we perceived a large lake, but it might equally well be a plain transfigured by the mirage. many of the hills and spurs consist of creeping soil from above, which in consequence of its slow motion is frozen into concentric rings and other patterns. the third pass rises in perfectly barren land. here tsering gave himself enormous trouble in setting up a cairn, which was quite unnecessary, for no one would come after us; but it was an act of homage to the gods of the mountains, an earnest prayer that they would let us pass safely. at last we came down into open country, a main valley running eastwards, where there was a glimpse of yellow grass in the distance. tundup sonam shot two ammon sheep, and their flesh prolonged the lives of our sheep. in this cold, windy weather we are never properly warm. when i sit, sketching the panorama of the mountains or taking a solar observation, i must have the brazier beside me to warm my numbed hands a little, so that i can use them. only muhamed isa, tsering, sonam tsering, and guffaru are exempt from night duty; all the rest are obliged to turn out into the cold, dark, wintry night. when darkness falls i fill up the drawings i have sketched in the day, study maps, or read light literature, or supan's _physische erdkunde_, and a couple of books on buddhism and lamaism. at nine o'clock robert takes meteorological readings, and sets up the hypsometer, which i read off in my tent. then we talk awhile and go to sleep. my bed is laid on an india-rubber sheet and two folded turkestan frieze blankets. on these is laid a great square of goatskins sewed together. i lay myself down on one half of the square and cover myself with the other, and then tsering tucks in the edges under the felt blankets, so that the whole is converted into a sack. lastly, he spreads two more felt blankets, my ulster, and my fur coat over me. i have my fur cap on my head and a _bashlik_; otherwise i undress as usual. in stormy weather the morning bath is not exactly pleasant; my clothes have become icy cold during the night. the ladakis have no notion of cleanliness, and consequently carry about with them small colonies of vermin, for which i have not the least use. but those who make my bed, clear up, and wait on me in my tent, cannot help giving me a most liberal share of their surplus, and therefore my underclothing has to be frequently washed in boiling water. my sensitiveness in this respect is a wonderful source of amusement to the ladakis; i hear them laughing heartily at my horror of all kinds of blood-sucking creatures. but i tell them that i feel comfortable only when i am quite alone in my clothes. the winter evenings grew longer and longer, and our life passed in monotonous solitude. the worst was that my light reading was put a stop to. to occupy the leisure hours i made the ladakis relate to me traditions and legends of their own country, and noted some of them down. i also made each of my servants narrate his own experiences; but the notes i made of them were not very remarkable, for the men had not much to tell, and thought it all quite natural and unimportant. you must question and draw them out, and even then the result is unsatisfactory. they very seldom know the name of a european whom they have served for months, and they cannot state their own age. but they know exactly how many horses there were in a caravan they accompanied years ago, and the colour of each horse. one ladaki, who has traversed the inhabited parts of western tibet, can tell me the name of every camping-ground, describe it accurately, and tell me whether the pasture there was good or bad. they have also a marvellous memory for the character of the ground. having regard to the compass of this narrative, i cannot allow myself to wander into diffuse biographical notices, but i must very briefly introduce my little party to the reader. we will begin, then, with rabsang, who went in search of the horse that was baited by the wolves. he is a bod, or buddhist, strictly speaking a lamaist; his father is named pale, his mother rdugmo, from the village chushut-yogma in ladak. by occupation he is a _zemindar_ or farmer, grows barley, wheat, and peas, owns two horses and two yaks, but no sheep, pays rupees (about shillings) in taxes to the maharaja, but no contributions to the lamas. once a year he travels in the service of afghan merchants to yarkand, and receives rupees for the whole journey. the merchants carry clothing materials, coral, tea, indigo, etc., to yarkand, where they put up in the _serai_ of the hindus, and stay twenty days to sell their goods and purchase silk, felt rugs, ordinary rugs, etc., which they get rid of in peshawar. rabsang had served chiefly the hajji eidar khan, a rich merchant of cabul. six years ago he had an adventure on the suget-davan, where twelve badakshan men, who owed the hajji money, met the caravan. the twelve men had led a wild life in yarkand, and could not pay their debts the afghans, who numbered five, fell upon them and a violent scuffle ensued, ending in bloodshed. that was rabsang's worst adventure. he had served captain deasy five months and another englishman as long. when he was away himself, his wife and a brother tilled his land and looked after his affairs. "can you depend on your wife's faithfulness for so long a time?" "no," he answered, "but we do not think much of that in ladak." "what happens if she misconducts herself with another man?" "then he must give me a sheep as compensation." after this not a word more could be extracted from rabsang. in our caravan he is under tsering's immediate command, and leads the four horses which carry my tent, my bed, the four boxes of articles for daily use, and the kitchen utensils. he is assistant to the head cook, and has to keep me supplied all the evening with fuel. he brings tsering fuel and water for cooking, and is an exceedingly sturdy, useful fellow. a year later he had a prominent part to play. [illustration: . preparations for dinner at camp .] i have already spoken of the mohammedan rehim ali. he is my right-hand man on the march. guffaru is the oldest of the company, and guide of the horse caravan; consequently the more horses die, the less he has to do. the hajji gulam razul has been twice in mecca; he is muhamed isa's cook. shukkur ali has made many remarkable journeys, which would fill a whole chapter themselves; with us he is leader of a section of the horse caravan, but has now only two charges. gaffar is a young mohammedan, who follows the horses, gathers fuel, and fetches water. young tsering has the same occupations, and ishe, tundup, and adul belong also to this party; the last, a hard-working, sturdy man, has entered my service in order to buy himself a house in leh and to enable him to marry. islam ahun is horse watchman. bolu belongs to my caravan, and is one of tsering's assistants. galsan, who has travelled much in western tibet, serves as a mule-driver. ishe tundup is responsible for the sheep. lobsang rigdal, nicknamed the lama, has to attend to my horses. he is come with me to earn money to give to his father and elder brother, because they have always taken good care of him. he is the jester of the caravan, and has a very comical appearance. tashi, who accompanies the horses, is one of our best men. tundup sonam keeps up the sporting reputation of the caravan and provides us all with fresh meat. he scarcely ever misses, and is as quiet and composed as a pan of clotted milk. he had served under me before, in the winter of , when i travelled from leh to yarkand. gartyung belongs to the mule caravan, and entered my service to restore order in his financial affairs. a small, short, black-bearded fellow, fifty years of age, answers to the name of tashi tsering; formerly he was called islam ahun, he says, so he has changed his religion, though it seldom happens that a mohammedan goes over to lamaism. he also leads a troop of horses. rub das is a gurkha from sitang, and does all sorts of work; he is silent and works like a slave, without needing the slightest reminder. tundup geltsan is the reciter of tales, whose voice is heard when all the day's work is over; he is also chief cook in the black tent of the ladakis. namgyal is a mule-driver, and one of our best; sonam tsering is overseer of the mules, kurban nothing but guffaru's son, and tsering is my head cook. herewith the list closes. each of these men had his duty to perform; all were willing and good tempered, and quarrels and disputes were never heard. but robert and muhamed isa knew excellently well how to maintain discipline. every man had a warm sheepskin, and they made themselves bedding of the skins of the slaughtered sheep or the wild animals that were shot; as the winter cold abated they used empty provision sacks as blankets. as they all travelled on foot they soon wore out their soft ladak boots, and they had to re-sole them repeatedly; for that purpose they utilized pieces of skin with the wool turned inwards. on october we passed a series of large river-beds which intersect the ridge to the south along flattish valleys. kulans and antelopes were grazing in large numbers. at the camp, situated between reddish hills, the grass was good. our direction was east-south-east. in the night a horse died. the country preserves henceforth the same character: it consists of a number of small ridges extending from east to west, and much time is lost in crossing them; between them lie longitudinal valleys. not infrequently we can count southwards three or four such ridges, and we have to pass over them all. we have lost ourselves in a sea of rigid undulations; we are like a ship that has lost its rudder and is on the point of sinking: no islands of refuge, no ships coming to meet us, boundless sea on all sides. we should like to pour oil on this rough sea; we long for calm waterways, but as long as a plank remains we will cling fast to it. at camp no. there was good grazing, and water we could obtain from ice. the men have sewed up a felt coat for the brown puppy, which they put on her when it is cold at night. she looks very ridiculous in her new night-dress when she runs about, steps on a corner, and then rolls over. the white puppy sits at first quite disconcerted and gazes at her, but then finds the sight so alluring that she cannot refrain from making fun of her comrade, dancing about her and biting her cloak. the brown one, on the other hand, sits resolutely quiet and lets the white one sport about her. we penetrate further into the forbidden land. on october , the anniversary of my departure from stockholm, we had still miles to travel to dangra-yum-tso, but now were seldom able to march more than ½ miles a day. in camp no. (illustration ) some articles that we could spare were left behind, to lighten the loads, among them several books that i had read and bower's narrative, which had now served their turn in my travelling library. the tents were set up in a sheltered valley at the foot of a rock. tundup sonam had gone in advance, and had surprised a four-year-old yak which was lying on a slope in the sun. taking advantage of inequalities in the ground, the sportsman had crept up quite close to it. the first ball had entered the pelvis. the yak, thus unpleasantly aroused from his meditation, sprang up and received a second bullet in his hough. then he rushed down the slope, turned a somersault on to the bottom of the valley, and lay dead as a mouse; and here, therefore, the tents were pitched. he was already skinned and cut up when we arrived, and the dark-red flesh with a purplish tint at the legs lay in the sun. the stomach was immense, and full of grass, lichen, and moss--no wonder that the animal needed rest after such gourmandizing. the head was set up as a decoration at the foot of a mountain spur, and the hunter was photographed beside this trophy. the ladakis were ordered to eat their fill of the meat, for we could not burden ourselves with any extra weight. all the fat, however, was taken with us, and the marrow was reserved for me. when we left the place, there was not much left of the yak, and i have my suspicion that the ladakis carried some fine pieces with them in their private bags. the ravens, in company with an eagle, sat feasting round the bloody skeleton. now there are eleven of them, and their wings shine in the sun like blue steel. they feel, alas! quite at home in the caravan and are half tame. the dogs take no notice of them, and are treated by the ravens with sarcastic contempt. october was a trying day; there was a strong wind from the west, and the temperature did not rise above ° at noon. we were approaching a pass, but we encamped before reaching the summit. at nine o'clock the thermometer marked . °, and i could make it rise in the tent only to . °, for the little warmth radiating from the brazier was at once driven out by the wind. the minimum thermometer stood at - . °, the lowest temperature that we had hitherto recorded. a white mule, which had carried no load for the past ten days, was frozen to death. now i had mules, horses, and servants in the caravan. we had not seen a man for days. should we all remain together till we fell in with the first nomads? antelopes and yaks were grazing on the slopes of the pass, the height of which is , feet. a labyrinth of mountains spreads itself out in the direction of our march, and therefore we turn aside to the north-east and encamp in the mouth of a valley. the white puppy, which faithfully follows robert and myself, is always soundly thrashed by her brown sister when we arrive in camp. she has no hope of defending herself, so she lies quietly on her back as if she were made of papier maché, and does not dare to utter a sound. now they are both bloated from over-indulgence in yak flesh; but however bad the brown puppy may feel, her little sister must get her licking as soon as she appears. in the night of october two more of our horses were frozen to death, and a sheep. of the latter we had now only ; puffed up with gas the three dead animals lay on the slope and stared at us with dark blood-stained eye-cavities; the ravens had already been at them. the ground was very difficult, constantly sloping upwards and then down again. we saw the caravan struggle up to a pass, but beyond appeared another still higher, with patches of snow. the crests of the mountains in this country run in general to the east-north-east. in the south lies a lake at a distance of about miles, but it is far to the right of our route. when we reached camp no. , at a height of , feet, in the midst of terrible mountains, it was announced that muhamed isa was ill. he had suffered for some days with severe headache, and had been well dosed with quinine. as he could not reconnoitre as usual, robert asked permission to climb the high pass which barred the way to the east, and to look around. he did not come back till dark, and then informed us that we should soon emerge from these troublesome mountains if we turned to the south-east. muhamed isa therefore received instructions for the following day in accordance with this information. what a difference from the previous evening when the stars twinkled down from a blue-black sky and the fires blazed bright and red! now heavy masses of cloud lie over mountain and valley, so low that they seem almost within reach of the hand. it snows unusually thickly; the ground is white, and the inequalities and tufts of moss throw long shadows about the fires. a pale light rises out of the provision fortress, now reduced to small dimensions, and casts a feeble glow on the black tent of the ladakis. tsering sits with his men round the kitchen fire, wrapped in furs, and delivers a lecture more than two hours long, without pausing a second. his tongue is like a windmill in a breeze. they have all known one another for years. what on earth can he have to tell them that they have not heard already twenty times over? but rabsang, rehim ali, and a couple of other men listen attentively, and express their satisfaction from time to time. i join them for a while. they rise to greet me, and lay a fresh armful of dry dung cakes on the fire. the flickering flames throw a glaring light over the snow, which crunches under the feet of the men. but the brightness does not extend far, and, beyond, the darkness of night yawns on all sides. the grazing animals can neither be seen nor heard, but the snow hisses as it falls continuously into the blaze of the yak-dung fire. chapter xiii unfortunate days october , , was a bad day. the snow lay three inches deep, and all around was dazzling white in the sunshine; only to the west blue shadows spread over the slopes. we were to cross the pass. in the universal whiteness the distance seemed short, but after the caravan had advanced half way, the pass still appeared as a small, black, fixed point. the field-mice were awake and scurried about between their holes in the snow, which became deeper as the way became steeper. it was soon a foot deep, and we had to keep carefully in the track of the caravan, lest we should roll over into the snowy abyss. spots of blood were seen; one of the animals had hurt its foot against the sharp-edged detritus. step by step we mount upwards, blue-black clouds gather threateningly together behind us, and in an instant we are enveloped in the wildest driving snow: the dry particles, fine as flour, whirl round us, like comet tails, with a rushing sound. they collect into drifts, the track of the caravan is hidden, and we can no longer see how far it is still to this deadly pass. a dead horse lies on the way, without its eyes--the wicked ravens must always have the eyes while they are still warm and soft. the wind had driven the snow over his back and neck, as though to make him a nice and comfortable couch. he lay as on a bed of state, exposed to all the winds of heaven, with clean white pall, and the black ravens as a guard of honour--the only thanks he got for his services. on the pass we make the usual halt for observations; the height is , feet; it blows and snows, with degrees of cold. we perceive, however, some sign of the saddle to the south-east which robert reconnoitred yesterday, and which is supposed to lead down into level country. but muhamed isa has taken his own way down a valley running north-east, and that is serious for us. far in front as he is, we must, though much against our will, follow his track, lest we should lose one another. it is now difficult to see whither the caravan had marched. if we lose one another in such country, and the snow continues to fall, we are done for. so we follow him down the valley. the pass behind us looks weird--a white saddle against a background of blue-black clouds, which resemble whirling, suffocating smoke. tsering reaches the pass with his two men and four horses, and salutes it with a loud salaam. treacherous frozen rivulets are crossed, as hard as glass and as smooth as cooling grease; our riding horses stumble and slide. it is very seldom that a small hill of dark schist peeps out above the snow. as the valley runs too much to the north, the caravan perceives its mistake, turns aside to the east, and buries itself in a labyrinth of hills where not a blade of grass grows. we ride past the shepherd with the sheep and the goats; the white puppy teases them as usual, till a bold wether puts her to flight. the goats are remarkably hardy and get on splendidly, and yield me a cup of milk every morning and evening. we found the caravan behind a second saddle. the camp was formed, but in a most unfavourable spot; there was neither grass nor _yapkak_, neither dung nor water--absolutely nothing. the animals stood in a dark group, standing out sharply against the white snow. thus they had to stand, quietly and patiently, all night long, and doubtless felt how slowly the time passed, how hunger and thirst increased, and the cold again diminished. they had to wait standing for the morning red, which might perhaps fail to appear, for dark masses of cloud still covered the sky. robert and i took refuge in the tent of the ladakis, where a fire burned, which was fed with fragments of a box and antelope dung. we could at any rate obtain water by melting snow; my dinner consisted of parched meal, bread, and coffee, for nothing else could be cooked. in the twilight rabsang appeared and asked me to come outside. two large wild yaks stood on a neighbouring hill and gazed at our camp with astonishment. but we left them in peace, for we did not want their flesh, and would not add to our loads. they trotted slowly away when they were convinced that we were not of their species. the night was pitch dark, so that i had to inspect our weary beasts with a lantern. we set out early from this unlucky camp, where a mule had fallen at his post. the footprints between the tents, made in the snow the evening before, were filled up with fresh snow, and a new set of paths had been formed. scarcely two minutes' walk from the camp a horse lay dead, which had carried his load only the day before, and the black corpse-watch was beside it. a dead wild-duck also lay in the snow. is there a lake in the neighbourhood? no; the ducks come long distances, and this one had probably lost its way. now the sun burns, now a snowstorm envelops us in its fine dust, now we are roasted, now chilled through--regular tibetan weather, unreliable and changeable. another dead horse! the men had cut its throat to shorten its sufferings; swiftly whirling snow covers the stream of blood that congeals in the cold. we make our way up to a pass, and then follow a ridge, but the ground is frightful. at length we ride down a flat valley which gradually winds round to the north; on the south rises a formidable crest. muhamed isa had orders to take, if possible, a south-easterly direction, but as he was not sure of the way, he had encamped at the bend of the road. he had gone forwards with two men to reconnoitre. towards four o'clock he returned, and reported that we should reach open country within three hours. my first thought was to set out at once, for in camp no. there was no grass, and the animals were so hungry that they bit one another's tails and the pack-saddles. one horse had actually not a hair left on his tail, but that one had been eaten up the night before. the old, experienced hands, however, gave their opinion that it would be better to start in the early morning. i therefore gave orders to reserve as much rice as we should require for forty days, and to give the rest, mixed with barley and maize, to the animals. while, however, they were eating from their nose-bags, the men changed their minds, and muhamed isa asked if they might make a start. "i am quite willing, but it will be pitch dark in an hour." "i will find the way. you have only to follow the trail in the snow." then began the tumult of breaking up camp, and the sound of tramping in the snow; but there was no singing. there were degrees of frost with a boisterous wind from the west. everything was taken except my things and robert's and the cooking utensils. a mule, which refused to move, remained with us. no fires lighted up the dark procession led by the horses and closed by the sheep. it moved off slowly, and the shouts of the men reached us more and more feebly till at length the caravan disappeared in the pale moonlight. i entered my tent stiff with cold. a quarter of an hour later a man came back with another mule which could not get on any further. so we had two dying animals with us. and then came the night. the air was clear and calm, the stars twinkled like diamonds in the brightness of electric light, and the cold settled keenly round our tent. outside, tsering, rabsang, rehim ali, and bolu had rolled themselves together into a heap under all their belongings. as long as i was awake i heard the irrepressible tsering telling his tales in the depth of his cave of furs, and the others occasionally giving vent to a subterranean giggle. curious fellows, these ladakis! no amount of cold seems to affect them, while i, in my tent, can only sleep a minute at a time. an awful, terrible night in the lonely mountains of tibet. the temperature sank to - °, and that was too much for the two mules which had been left behind. one expired about midnight; he was the animal which sonam tsering had wished on the first day to send back to leh as useless. we tried then to exchange him for a horse, but as no one would have him, he had to come with us after all. he was accustomed to travel with horses, and later on always went with them. to the astonishment of all he became strong and led the van--a good example for the horses. now he lay cold and hard as iron, with his legs stretched out; if he had been lifted on to his feet he would have remained standing. sonam tsering wept when he heard that the animal was gone. the other mule was heard moving about in the night and nibbling at the yak grass, which is too short for other animals except the yak; the tongue of the yak is provided with horny barbs which pluck up the fine velvety grass. early in the morning i heard the mule squeal, and was glad that one at least still survived. but when the sun rose his strength too was spent, and when tsering woke me he said that the animal was dying. he looked healthy and well nourished, but we tried in vain to raise him up and feed him with maize, and he was sacrificed to the gods of this valley of death. he did not move a limb or twitch an eyelid as the blood spurted out on to the snow; he seemed only to experience a welcome sense of peace and resignation, while his eyes were turned full on the sun. as we were on the point of leaving this horrible camp, there came fresh tidings of misfortune. tundup sonam appeared to show us the way, and reported that the horse caravan had wandered off too far to the left, while the mules under muhamed isa had taken the opposite direction. muhamed isa, as soon as he found out his mistake, had descended into the first valley he could find, to wait there for the dawn. as for the flock of sheep, tundup sonam could only say that it had at first followed the track of the horses, but had afterwards turned away. the greatest confusion reigned everywhere, but the worst news tundup sonam kept to the last: four more mules had died during the night. our situation was desperate. we could not go on much longer; we were coming to a crisis. the ground, the weather, and the cold were all against us, the horses died wholesale, and it might be a hopeless distance to the nearest nomads. what did it matter whether the tibetans would be friendly or hostile? now the only question was: should we be able to drag ourselves along to inhabited districts? for, if these losses continued a few days longer, we should soon be compelled to abandon all the baggage and continue our journey on foot. but could we carry ourselves enough provisions to last us through this uninhabited country? should we perish one after another in these icy deserts of the tibetan alps? and if at length, in a wretched, half-dead condition, we met with tibetans, they could do what they liked with us. at any rate we could not force our way through to shigatse and the unknown country to the north of the tsangpo, the goal of all my most cherished dreams. a journey straight across tibet looks pleasant and easy on the map. in reality it is a serious and difficult undertaking, costing suffering, excitement, and tears. the meandering line is drawn in red on the map, for it is really marked with blood. we set out under the guidance of tundup sonam, and it soon became evident that we should never have found the way without him. up and down, over hills and through valleys we threaded this intricate maze, where the deep snow smoothed down the inequalities and quite misled us in estimating the heights of the steep declivities. we left the track of the horses on our left; there a load of maize was left, but tundup sonam assured me it would be fetched. to the right appeared the high ground where the mules had wandered in the night trying their strength uselessly. an icy south-west wind blew over the bitterly cold snowfields. from time to time tundup sonam reared up a slab of schist to show the way to tsering, who was coming behind without a guide. now we cross the trail of the mules and see the valley where they have passed the night. "yonder, on the slope, lies a mule," says tundup sonam, "and two behind the hill, and a little farther on a fourth." we could not see them from where we were, but the ravens resting here, sleepy and satiated, confirmed his words. at last we reached the pass, whence we caught sight of the plain and a small lake to the south-east. the height was , feet. at one o'clock there were degrees of frost, the wind was high, and it snowed so thickly that the view disappeared again. we did not stay a minute longer than was necessary for observations, and then rode down a steep descent. we rested at the first grass we came to; the horses were almost mad with delight when they saw it--their stomachs were so empty. now we saw five men on a height. they were muhamed isa and four companions, who had come out to look for the missing men and animals-- horses, men, sheep, and dogs. we were able to inform them that their track ran north-eastwards, and after they had given directions how to find the camping-ground of the mules they vanished again in the snow. after searching in vain for the track and looking out for the smoke of the camp-fire, we came to a halt on a smooth plateau, where the grazing was good, and collected dung for a fire--it was high time, for robert and i were half dead with cold. we were in a terribly sad plight. we did not know where the mules were encamping, and had not the slightest notion where the horses had gone. the sheep, in this country swarming with wolves, were probably lost. tsering had remained behind, and might easily miss our track in the snowstorm. we could do nothing but thaw our clothes. after we had been sitting an hour, and had somewhat recovered in the heat of the fire, the "lama" came over the plain bringing with him sonam tsering, who had been camping with the mules behind some hills. the good fellow wept bitterly at our losses; muhamed isa had proved a bad pilot this time, he complained. nine mules had perished within a few hours in these frightful mountains, which were probably the western prolongation of the system called by the mongols, dwelling farther to the east, buka-magna, or the "head of the wild yak." twenty mules still remained, but two of them had received their death-warrant. of the twenty-three surviving horses one was left behind with his pack-saddle in a hollow, and was probably dead by this time. at a late hour of the night only one of the missing ones, namely, tsering, had put in an appearance. under these circumstances it was a matter of course that we should have a day's rest in camp no. . when day broke, i was awakened by the bleating of sheep. the shepherd had at first followed the track of the horses, but soon abandoned it when he noticed that the mules were not there, and he began to look for the track of the latter. in the darkness he got completely lost, and in a pass one of the sheep had refused to go any farther. he had carried it awhile, but as he soon felt that it had become cold and stiff he threw it away as dead. frightened of the darkness and the wolves, he had taken refuge in a gorge, tied together the sheep and goats in a circle, and set himself in the middle to keep himself warm and look out for the wolves. however, they had not ventured to attack him. in the morning twilight he had found one of the many tracks leading to camp no. . two of the missing men turned up in the forenoon, carrying boxes. a horse had been left behind. islam ahun, who had led the horse caravan, had cleverly conducted them down by the shortest way to the lake, and had encamped there beside good pasture. muhamed isa and his companions had lost themselves in the night, and had slept beside a fire, with nothing to eat or drink but snow. but they, too, found their way to us again, and so the remnants of the caravan were gathered together to one place. here everything was sorted out that could be spared: sacks, bags, ropes, horse-shoes, tools, and cooking utensils. boxes were burned after their contents had been transferred to others; no one was allowed to burden the caravan with unnecessary articles. the rejected goods formed a large heap, and we thus got rid of two horse loads. then we took stock, and found that we had still loads including the boat. we had mules, of which were on their last legs, and horses also, including ready to drop, or serviceable animals in all. only robert and i were allowed to ride, so that we had spare horses; but in the evening the loads were so distributed that all the animals carried something, except the sickly ones. four animals were to be laden with maize and barley, the rice made seven loads more, the meal five, the bread one, and the butter, which the ladakis took in their tea, only half a load. we estimated that the meal would last a month longer; five loads of rice were to be given up to the animals, and i directed all the men to take the greatest care of the veterans. tundup sonam shot three antelopes just when our meat was finished. some of the ladakis had to cut them up, and at even when they returned with the spoil they intoned the antiphonal song they sing when they carry a _dandy_, or an ordinary load, at home in ladak. one of the antelopes, however, was all devoured by the wolves before they found it. we decided to rest a couple of days at the next camp, and tundup sonam undertook to conduct us to a small lake lying to the east, where the grass was particularly good. in the night of october a horse and two mules died, so we had animals. "the strongest are still living," said muhamed isa as usual. to the north rose the lofty mountain system which had caused us so much suffering, and its crests were seen stretching to the east. we advanced over even ground, and after a short march reached a small round lake firmly frozen over, and surrounded by yellow grassland. water was supplied by a spring which filled a small frozen basin; the animals drank as much as they would from a hole cut through the ice; they had had no water for three days. the sandy soil was frozen so hard that the iron tent-pegs bent when they were driven into the ground. the sky was overcast, and there was a strong wind, but the ground to the east-south-east seemed favourable. the four tents stood in a row, mine to windward, that i might not be annoyed by the smoke of the other fires. at ten o'clock at night a flock of wild geese passed over our camp in the brilliant, silvery-white moonshine. they flew very low, and quacked the whole time. probably they intended to settle at the spring, but went on when they found the place occupied. "there is plenty of light, and in a short time we shall be at the next spring." such, we may suppose, was the gist of the conversation between the leading goose and the others. no doubt it had given its orders at sunset, remarking: "to-night we will stay at the spring on the shore of the small lake, where we rested last spring." all were agreed, and the flock, flying in a wedge, had gradually dipped lower towards the ground. but when they had passed over the hills which concealed the spot from view, and saw the frozen lake glancing like a mirror in the moonshine, the leading goose called out, "men! we cannot stay so near to tents and fires. up again, and onwards." and all the flock answered: "we can rest at the next spring in the valley behind the hills to the south." that was the conversation i heard above my tent when all was quiet in the camp. perhaps the lively chatter was about something else, but i think that i interpreted the wild geese correctly. for it is quite certain that they hold consultations on their long journeys, and discuss their plans. and why should they not be endowed with intelligence? why should they speed away at random like soulless flying-machines? they are just as dependent as ourselves on the earth and winds. if they can cover miles on a clear, calm day, they must take a longer time over the same distance when storm and contrary winds prevail. therefore they cannot every year pass the nights at the same springs, but must adapt their arrangements to circumstances. but the wild geese know every spring along the course they follow twice a year, and when they are tired they settle at the first they come to. on my travels in various parts of tibet i have come to the conclusion that the same parties or tribes of wild geese, which have for generations bred at the same watercourses, follow always the same routes through tibet. the geese which we saw on this occasion came, let us say, from one of the lakes along the tarim river below shah-yar, and intended to spend the winter in the neighbourhood of khatmandu, the capital of nepal. in spring they return to the tarim lakes, and follow exactly the same course as in autumn, and so on from year to year. the young ones, which are born on the tarim, make the journey over the mountains for the first time in autumn, but they remember the way in the following autumn, and afterwards the time comes when they in turn teach their young ones the position of the sources. thus the knowledge of the route is never lost in the family, and the leading geese would never dream of trying any other course. we had already on several occasions seen wild geese flying southwards, but they had certainly taken other roads, come from other breeding-places, and had other destinations. they belonged to other tribes. if it were possible to draw on a map of tibet all the tracks of the various tribes of geese, they would form a whole system of lines running more or less in a meridional direction. perhaps many of these lines would in parts merge into one another like the fine ripples on the surface of a sand-dune. perhaps now and then a line runs in sharp zigzags. it may then be taken for granted that it was thus drawn in the most remote antiquity when the patriarchs of each tribe first sought out the way from one spring to another. each tribe is divided into a number of communities, and each of these into families. probably all the geese of one community are closely related to one another. each community remains together on the journey, but how do they choose a leader? it may be supposed that the oldest goose flies at the head of the flock, for it must be the most experienced, and if it dies the next oldest is its natural successor. i am fond of the wild geese, and admire their intelligence and their wonderful bump of locality; we shall hereafter come into closer contact with them. in camp we remained fully three days inactive, and the south wind howled continuously: "patience! patience!" to us the days seemed very long, but the animals must have rest. on the first morning horse no. lay dead on the ground, and was entered with the same number in the list of the dead. the wolves were impudent, and howled just outside our camp, but they were more polite after tundup had shot a brute, which ran off on to the ice, and lay down to die in the middle of the lake. the scoundrel soon had as companion a raven, which had taken into his head to peck the manes of the living horses and disturb them while grazing. at nine o'clock in the evening the thermometer indicated - °, and in the night - ½°. in the morning muhamed isa reported that the dung-gatherers had discovered something which they described as ruins of stone houses. robert and i went at once to look at them. we found that there actually were three quadrangular walls constructed of slabs of schist, probably of very ancient date. they rose but just above the ground, and on digging we discovered that they went down fully feet. probably they had been constructed only as foundations and wind screens for permanent tents, for such walls were afterwards met with on several occasions. there was no trace of a hearth. the ladakis, who had travelled much in west tibet, thought that the place had once been the permanent abode of some changpas who had wished to avoid paying taxes to the devashung, or the government in lhasa. at any rate this discovery had a very encouraging effect on us. we had not seen men for days, and now we found the first sign indicating their proximity. we felt invigorated, and the tale-teller in muhamed isa's tent in the evening was longer winded than ever. he sang a song, all joining in the chorus. now we must keep a sharp look-out in the country before us, for this first sign of man must surely be succeeded by others. the caravan moved on towards the east-south-east on october in a very violent south-west storm. a mule had died in the night, and so we had baggage animals, but since the last inspection the provisions had diminished by nearly three loads. in this camp, also, superfluous articles were left behind. i threw away _sonja_, by blicher-clausen. robert and i sat at the morning fire, while the men saddled the horses, and i amused myself by tearing out one leaf of the book after another and throwing the whole collection into the air, where the wind swept the flying leaves with tremendous velocity to the north-east. the ten ravens puzzled their heads as to what new species of flying creatures they could be, but made little effort to get out of their way, and the dogs soon gave up the attempt to pursue the leaves; but one of tsering's pack-horses was so alarmed that it shied, broke loose, and rushed up the hills, and was not caught again for a good half hour. meanwhile sonja swept on, fluttering over mountain and valley, much to my satisfaction, for i had felt annoyed the evening before because she left her good-hearted husband. when and where would these leaves come to rest after flying over endless stretches of unknown country? certainly a book has seldom had so wide a distribution. we follow the track of the caravan in an open, flat valley between low mountains. after riding some hours we were so perished that we had to make a halt in a hollow way and light a fire. my small white ladak horse was in excellent condition; he treated the cold and other disagreeable incidents with philosophical calmness. the tall dapple-grey which i had ridden from leh was usually off duty, for he showed symptoms of exhaustion. at this day's camp there was no water, only snow in a cleft of the mountain. yet we were in very high spirits, for the men had seen fireplaces built of three stones laid crossways, which were intended to hold a kettle. it must have been a long time, however, since they were used, for neither ash nor soot was seen among them. an iron ladle, too, was found, such as the tibetans use to melt lead for bullets. so either robbers or hunters must have halted here sometime or other. [illustration: . the author, robert, and rehim ali attacked by a wounded yak.] chapter xiv in the land of the wild yak we broke up our camp on the morning of october , after a night of degrees of frost, at an early hour, so as to find water for our thirsty animals as soon as possible. a small lake and two springs we passed were frozen as hard as rock; beside one lay the skull of a yak, which had evidently had its throat cut with a knife; we also saw two fireplaces on the way, and at camp no. a path, which, however, might have been worn by wild yaks. we therefore were no doubt coming near to other men, and we were always on the look-out for tents. next day the storm increased in strength, and it was only with the greatest effort of will that i could use my hands for map-sketching. we seemed paralyzed and could no longer think clearly. we were like the field-mice, which run from one hole to another seeking to find shelter from the wind and cold. on arriving at a spring i slipped down wearily from my horse, and thought i should be frozen before the fire was kindled. muhamed isa, also, and four other men, were ill, and could not assist in setting up the tents. when my tent was ready, i crept into bed in my clothes, boots and all. while robert and tsering were covering me up with warm wraps i was seized with violent ague, my teeth chattered, and my head ached terribly. robert, who had been trained in nursing in dr. arthur neve's school, now proved an excellent doctor, and took every care of me. as soon as we were under cover he plunged into the study of burroughs and wellcome's medical instructions. the tabloid brand medicine chest stood open, as frequently happened, in my tent. stanley, emin pasha, jackson, scott, and many other travellers have prized this ideal travelling dispensary as highly as myself. my case, a present from the english firm, had been filled with especial regard to the climate of tibet. at ten o'clock at night robert and tsering undressed me. there were . degrees of frost in the night, and the storm howled dreadfully. robert took my temperature every two hours, and it rose to ½°, high-fever mark. as he told me after, he pondered whatever he was to do if i remained for good at camp no. . i could not sleep, and robert and tsering watched beside my bed in turn; glowing lumps of fuel were brought in all through the night, and a burning candle was placed behind a box, where it was protected from wind and draught. i was constantly delirious and the men were much concerned, for they had never seen me ill before. next day the fever had slightly abated, when muhamed isa slipped gently into my tent to inquire how the sahib was. he informed us that the wounded yak was dead, and that, in cutting it up, two tibetan bullets had been found; also at three places hearths had been seen, which could not be more than two months old, for ashes still lay among the stones. so hunters had been here in autumn, and he was quite convinced that we should soon meet with the first nomads. it was still as the grave, only the storm howled and moaned. all the men in the camp were afraid of disturbing me, but i gave orders in the evening that they should sing as usual. i could not lift an arm without help, and i lay hour after hour watching the curious lights in the tent. within, the stearin candle emitted a dull light, and the yellowish-red blaze of the fire and the bluish moonlight penetrated from without. the singing sounded melancholy and wistful, and was accompanied by the howling of the storm. on november the storm still raged, having now continued to the sixth day. i had slept a few hours, though the cold sank to ° below freezing-point. i was getting a little better, but i was still extremely weak. robert, who was troubled because his horse had died in the night, read to me one of the novels we had stolen from deasy's depôt. tsering and rehim ali massaged me in the asiatic manner to restore my strength. and so we arrived at the fourth evening. i had been confined to my bed for four-and-eighty hours, the soil of tibet seemed determined to keep me, and perhaps i should be allowed only to dream of the forbidden land at a distance. surely on november the god of the winds must have said to the westerly storm, "six days shalt thou labour--on the seventh thou shalt become a hurricane." dust and sand penetrated the thin canvas and covered everything in the tent. the men, who had led the animals to water, had rings of dust round their eyes, and their faces were ashy grey. for my part i felt like one of our poor worn-out brutes, which does not know whether he will reach the next camp. then i decided to remain here with some of the men and some provisions, while robert and muhamed isa went in search of natives, whom they might send to fetch me. but no; i would try to hold myself in the saddle, for i did not wish to remain in this miserable fever-camp. i wore a whole wardrobe of winter clothes: several trousers, my leather jersey, the ulster, fur coat, cap, and _bashlik_; it was a heavy weight for my weak, tottering legs as i walked to my horse and was lifted into the saddle. we followed the shore of the small lake near our camp. but i soon perceived, after nearly falling again and again, that the exertion was too much for me, so we halted and lighted a fire. after a short rest we rode on, and were delighted when at length we saw the smoke of our caravan rising behind a hill, where it had camped by a source and had found fireplaces erected last summer, with skulls and horns of tame sheep around them. yak dung was very plentiful; the source was, therefore, a watering-place of wild yaks. a third of the men were really ill, most of them suffered from headache, and all were more or less indisposed. robert alone was in good health, and he nursed us. on november the tracks of men became more frequent. a yak's skeleton lay beside a hearth, and the ashes piled up among the stones could not have been cold longer than the day before. we climbed up troublesome hills and then descended into a gully leading down to a large valley begirt with fiery red heights. a number of excavations, each with a heap of sand beside it, attracted our attention. the sand contained gold, so not ordinary nomads but gold-seekers had been here, probably every summer, to dig for gold. in the lower part of the valley warm springs burst forth with a temperature of °, so that the water seems quite hot. a few yards farther, however, it forms a large sheet of ice. in the next valley, a hollow between precipitous terraced slopes, a huge wild yak lay dead on the ground with twelve of our men standing round it. tundup sonam had surprised a whole herd which had come down into the valley to drink. the other animals had torn up the valley in headlong flight, but this one, struck by a bullet, had made for the hunter, and tundup clambered up the edge of a terrace only just in time. the yak remained at the foot, uncertain what to do, and received a second shot in the heart. i photographed him from several points of view before he was skinned. it was not easy to raise him into a suitable posture; the twelve men had to put forth all their strength. the raven-black coat of the beast formed a strong contrast to the red soil; his long side fringes serve him as a mattress when he lies down (illustrations , ). on november we skirted a lake; to the right we had steep mountains with disagreeable cones of sharp-edged débris. two troops of fine ammon sheep, numbering nine and five respectively, skipped with bold leaps over the smooth abrupt rocks. large numbers of hares were seen, and frequently the holes of marmots where the inmates were still hibernating. two tibetan cairns proved to us that we were on the right way, that is, the one the gold-diggers use. [illustration: . rehim ali falls to the ground and thus rescues us from the furious yak.] now we leave this part of the mountains on the right, and proceed along the southern, open and extensive plain by the lake shore. there grazed a herd of perhaps fifty yaks. twenty antelopes, probably frightened by the caravan, scampered away with elastic springs like the shadow of clouds moving over the earth. soon the tents and all the details of camp no. could be clearly distinguished, and we had only a few minutes' march more, when even this short distance would have been too far for one of us, if fate had so willed. for close beside the tents, near our animals, a large black yak appeared. rehim ali drew our attention to it, but we took no farther notice of it. i took my last bearing of the tent, and was in the act of laying down the ground on my map-sheet, when a shot cracked from muhamed isa's tent, and the yak, evidently hit, rushed madly northwards. we followed him with our eyes, expecting to see him fall. but no; he turned and came running wildly towards us. rehim ali's face was contorted with frantic fright, and he raised his hands to heaven, crying out, "allah, allah, we are lost!" the brute drew near in a cloud of dust, his fringes waved and flew about, and he lowered his horns for a rush. i did not move, for i thought that he had not seen us and would turn back again, but he held on his way and grew larger to the sight. rehim ali ran screaming to the tents, but suddenly turned round, and as our horses took fright and galloped off, he caught hold of the tail of robert's steed, hoping to follow us at a run. the wild chase swept quicker and quicker over the plain, and the yak changed his course and made a circuit towards us in a mad rage. his breath rose like clouds of steam from his nostrils, his muzzle almost grazed the ground--he was ready to catch his victim on his horns, toss him into the air, and stamp him to a jelly under his forefeet. nearer and nearer i heard him, panting and gasping like a steam saw. turning in my saddle i saw him about twenty yards off, his small, fierce eyes blazing with fury and madness and rolling so as to show the blood-stained whites. it was a question of a second. i rode straight to the right; my horse and i would be the first to be caught on the horns of the yak. now the horses stretched their legs like bow-strings. i tore off my red _bashlik_ and waved it behind me to attract the yak and stop him, but he did not look at it. then i tore my belt off in order to take off my fur coat and throw it over the yak's eyes and blind him, just when he was on the point of thrusting his horns into the belly of the horse and stiffening the muscles of his neck for the toss. a second more and the yak would hoist the horse, break my back, and trample on my chest--i seemed to hear the cracking and breaking of my ribs, and i well deserved it, for it was my fault alone that all the animals left behind us had to suffer so much. then was heard a heart-rending cry of despair. as i turned quickly round, i saw rehim ali with uplifted arms fall senseless to the ground, and the yak turn and rush at him. he remained prostrate, a lifeless mass, and i saw the yak, with lowered horns, and his purple tongue hanging far out of his mouth, dash down upon him in a cloud of dust. now all the horses made off, and i had some difficulty to keep my seat on my grey ladaki. when i looked round again, a second later, the yak was running up the valley with his dust cloud about him. "turn back and see if there is still a spark of life in rehim ali, and if he can still be saved," i called out. "master, it is too dangerous, the yak is still near, and may come back. muhamed isa and all the rest are running out of the camp to look after rehim ali." but i had already turned, and i rode to the fallen man. he lay dead on his face with arms outstretched--both robert and i thought, at any rate, that he was dead. but when we had dismounted beside him he slowly turned his head, and with a look of horror waved his hand, as much as to say: "do not trouble about me, i am dead as a mouse." we could not repress a smile when, turning him over like a joint at the fire, we examined his bones and joints, and found that the fellow was still sound, though severely bruised. the yak had trodden upon the inner side of the left shank, where a bloody stripe showed the mark of his hoof. two strong men bore the fallen hero to muhamed isa's tent, where he was well tended by robert. he seemed stupefied for several days, and we feared that his adventure had affected his brain. he did not eat or speak, and had to travel on horseback, and one of his fellow-countrymen was told off to attend on him. after some time, when his head was clear again, he was able to tell us his impressions. when he saw the yak preparing to attack my horse, he turned round and threw himself flat on the ground. perhaps irritated by the red and violet _chapkan_ floating about in the air, the yak left me, made an unexpected change of front, and rushed with lowered horns on the fallen man. he had half unconsciously made a quick movement to one side, and the horns had struck the ground instead of entering his body, and so close beside his head that rehim ali felt the panting breath of the brute in his face. then he lost consciousness, and did not revive till we came up, and then he thought that the yak was on him again. he had intended to save himself by this manoeuvre, and thereby had become our deliverer. after the adventures he had taken part in lately he had an immense horror of tibetan lakes and wild yaks (illustrations , ). temperature-- ½° on the night of november . one would expect that the temperature would fall with the advance of winter, but it remains constant, owing in great measure to our progress southwards. beyond a small pass we came to a new longitudinal valley, where the country was open towards the south-east. game was abundant, spoors crossed one another in all directions, and two bold yaks awakened in us greater respect than before. at six places we saw large herds of wild asses, and antelopes grazed on the plains. we lost a mule here, and had now animals of both kinds. another day's journey across flat country. we were traversing the large white patch of unknown land, and were approaching bower's route at an acute angle, though we were still rather far east of it. a wild yak ran across our path, and we wondered if it were our enemy of the previous day. where we pitched our camp, no. , we found some hearths which could not be more than a couple of days old. our excitement and eagerness increased day by day; now the uttermost margin of inhabited tibet could not be far distant. as i let my eyes rove over these red or black, snow-capped or bare crests, i could fancy i could perceive a whole host of dancing notes of interrogation, some in fantastic draperies, mocking us because we had ventured without an escort into the forbidden land, others motioning us onwards, but all doubtful and speculative. step by step, day by day, with failing strength, we approached the solution of all these questions. any moment a troop of mounted men might appear on the horizon, bringing orders from the devashung that we must immediately evacuate the country and retire northwards. i was still convalescent, went to bed at seven o'clock, and was not much the better for it, for i always felt terribly languid. tsering was very despondent because i did so little honour to his cooking. "how can the sahib regain his strength if he eats so little?" he used to remind me. he was a comical fellow, tsering, as he marched day after day with his stick in his hand at the head of his detachment, self-conscious and pompous as a chanticleer. late at night we heard the dismal, long-drawn howling of wolves close at hand. we could tell from the wild complaining tone that hunger had made the brutes bolder and that the odour of fresh meat excited them. they were on the other side of the source, and tundup sonam stole off to scare them away by firing into the troop, though there was small chance of hitting one in the darkness. the brutes retired, but in the night chased our animals, which scampered off to the north as though there were a fire behind them. but the men followed their trail, and found them at dawn a good day's journey from the camp. on november we had good ground again, and saw to the east-south-east a lake which looked like a bright white ring, the middle being deep blue. near this day's camp, no. , were clear traces of a man who had driven five tame yaks to the lake. the footprints were at most three days old, and excited a great stir in the caravan. we were undoubtedly close to human dwellings, and i thought with regret of the interval of nearly three months during which we had no cause to dread hostile tribes. we held a council of war: should we as long as possible avoid contact with men, and keep out of the way of their tents, so that we need not turn back until further progress became quite impossible? or should we seek out the nearest nomads at once, and beg them for assistance? at this moment tundup sonam ran up out of breath. he had been scouting to the west and had descried a black tent. i immediately sent him to it with two other men, and gave them a handful of rupees. but the news they brought from this first meeting with human beings was not particularly interesting. the tent was inhabited by a woman and her three children. she had come from the district of gertse in the south-west, and had covered the distance in twenty-five short days' marches. she had arrived seventeen days before with her two husbands, but both had returned a few days ago to gertse, after they had filled the tent for her with wild-ass meat. she was daily expecting her parents, who were to keep her company for three months, during which time they would live on game--yaks, kiangs, and antelopes. she owned a few yaks and a small flock of sheep, which she and the oldest child tended and milked. the inside of the tent was very wretched, but a warm fire burned in the centre. she knew that four more tents were standing in a neighbouring valley. when tundup sonam told her that we were a party of ladakis on a pilgrimage to the holy places, she replied that we had chosen a very bad route, and would have done better to take a more southern road where there were men. her geographical knowledge was limited. the country in which we were now she called gomo-selung. the gold placers we had passed lay in the la-shung country, and the lake at camp no. she called la-shung-tso. my servants, who had already been in tibet, held that this information was reliable, for they had heard the names before. now, then, the ice was broken. after seventy-nine days of complete isolation from the outer world, some of our men, at least, had seen human beings. but other connections would soon follow this lonely woman, this daughter of the wilderness, this real lady of the mountains, and again we discussed the line of policy we must adopt. the woman dwelt alone, and no news of our approach could be conveyed through her instrumentality to the south. we could, then, take the matter for the present quite coolly as heretofore, and when we were surrounded on all sides by nomads, among whom reports are rapidly dispersed, we must then think of hastening our movements. we granted the animals a day's rest, for the pasturage was good, and it was pleasant to spend this day under canvas. the storm whistled and howled through the grass and round the stones. everything that was light and loose was blown away, and the ground was swept clean. the sky was cloudless and the air clear, the wild commotion was only in the layer of air close to the ground, and the important part played by the wind in the deformation of the surface was evident; in such a storm huge masses of material must be removed from their original position. in the night the storm ceased all of a sudden, and it became so still all at once that i awoke. it was as though we had encamped by a waterfall which in an instant ceased to roar. one starts up and wonders what has happened, but one soon becomes accustomed to the stillness, and finds the absence of the noise and the draught a relief. [illustration: , . the first tibetans.] chapter xv the first nomads sad news again on the morning of november : two of our best horses were dead, and a third, which had carried two boxes, made in stockholm, all the way from leh, was at the point of death. all three had been sound on the preceding evening, and they died with exactly the same symptoms. they became giddy, lost control of their legs, fell down, and were unable to get up again. i hoped to rescue the remnants of my caravan, and was already thinking of the time when i could lead the poor beasts to mangers in shigatse full of sweet-smelling clover, and now those that we had reckoned the strongest had broken down. now only horses were left, and the loads would soon be too heavy for the survivors. but it had not come to that yet, for this day, which commenced so sadly, brought us joy before the sun went down. following the track of the caravan we rode among hills, and saw below us camp no. in a deep valley. i had just entered my tent when muhamed isa announced that tundup sonam was coming from the upper valley in the company of two tibetans, one mounted, the other on foot. timorous, and doubtful whether tundup sonam had allured them to a robber band, the tibetans laid their long clumsy guns on the ground and came forward cautiously. tundup had needed all the fascinations of his eloquence to induce them to come with him. he had told them that we were pilgrims accompanying an eminent lama from ladak to the holy places: then they had answered that they would come and show their reverence for his holiness, and bring with them a sheep's stomach full of butter, and another with goat's milk, as a testimony of their deep respect. muhamed isa, who was accustomed to deal with tibetans, allayed their fears, taking them into his tent and talking and joking with them. then they were brought to me, and they laid their presents on the ground, fell on their knees, put out their tongues, and made a low obeisance. instead of a holy man they found a european, but seemed by no means displeased with the change. muhamed isa acted as interpreter. they must first give us information on the geography of the country and the character of the land through which our route lay. the information received from the lady of the mountains was confirmed in every respect, and they told us that we should meet with no men for several days, but after that should pass black tents daily. our guests might be fifty and forty years old respectively. the elder was quite a typical specimen, more like an ape than a man; the younger looked as though he had already met with many adventures, and he would have passed very well for a robber chief (illustrations , ). the conversation now commenced may have little intrinsic interest, but to us in our condition it was as exciting as a tale--our salvation was involved. "how long is it by the nearest way to shigatse?'' "four long, or five short, days' march." "will you guide us?" "yes, if we are paid to do so." "how much do you want?" "that the bombo chimbo (great chief) shall decide himself." "have you any horses you can sell us?" "we have two, but we will not sell them." "have you any yaks for sale?" "yes, we will sell five, if we get rupees for each." "will you give us some of your sheep?" "you may have six, if you will pay rupees a head." "good. bring all the animals you are ready to sell, and if we are satisfied with them you shall be well paid." "the bombo chimbo must remain here till to-morrow if we are to do this." it was then agreed that we should remain. but i knew the tibetans, and was aware that they promise much and perform little. we therefore kept the fellows with us for the night, and they slept in muhamed isa's tent. in the evening they were enraptured by the tones of our flutes, and felt so much at home that their tongues were loosened, and rattled like praying-mills. i heard their cackling until i went to sleep. and this night i slept well. after eighty days of complete solitude we again had men as guests in our tents; we had obtained fine, rich goat's milk, and next day we should feast on well-fed mutton; we had received information about the country and the marches before us on the way to our far-off destination. and what was best of all, our veterans, our caravan animals, would get help. and this help was a boon from heaven; for this day, after we had lost three more horses at once, and when rehim ali must unfortunately be reckoned among the baggage, the loads had become too heavy for the animals. the future seemed more promising. certainly the ridge of the samoma-sakcho mountains did not exhibit a more purple colour in the evening light than the mountains which we had seen glowing in a grand display of colours on many a lonesome night; the blue smoke of the camp-fires danced a fairy dance on the steppe grass just as before, and the night came down just as dark and cold over the mountains to the east, but all around us to-day inspired us with cheerfulness and hope. the new day had hardly broken when our two changpas set out homewards with some of the ladakis, to make preparations for the great business transaction. two hours later we were the fortunate owners of five fine yaks, which, the tibetans affirmed, could easily carry four boxes each, whereas our horses and mules had carried only two. one of the yaks was to take over the boat, and the horse which had carried it from lake lighten was relieved of the work. i breathed freely again when i saw the faithful animal without anything to carry. then we bought four sheep at rupees each, and exchanged our last three sheep for two fresh ones, paying rupees in addition. at the gomo lake our last eight goats obtained their well-earned rest, being exchanged for as many tibetan and a money payment of rupee a head. in the evening i had three times as much milk as usual, and richer and better than our exhausted goats had supplied. both parties were thoroughly satisfied with the bargain (illustration ). good old changpas! the wandering cavaliers of the wilderness came to us, looking picturesquely savage with their black coarse hair hanging down over their shoulders and back, and making their furs greasy, with long, dark matchlocks on their shoulders, clumsy sabres and knives in their belts, and mounted on small, tough, long-haired horses. though wild and dirty, they were yet kindly, friendly and good-tempered, and were certainly not cold in their old dingy fur coats. the elder wore a small round fur cap, the younger a _bashlik_ of fur, which covered his whole head except the face. they had their provisions and all kinds of other articles they wanted on their journey stuffed into their fur coats in front, and from the belts which held their fur coats together, hung knives, awl, flint and steel, pipe and tobacco pouch, which swung and knocked together at every step. they wore felt boots, originally white, but now black and worn-out, but had no trousers--it must be far too cool to sit trouserless in the saddle with degrees of frost. as they came from gertse, the country to the south-west, they had hardly any knowledge of the region through which we were to travel, but they thought that we should require at least fifty days for the journey to shigatse. they pass the winter in the gomo district, living on the game there. they could easily serve a little breakfast with which the most exacting gourmand might be satisfied. is not the following menu tempting? a bowl of goat's milk with rich yellow cream. yak kidneys, fried a golden yellow in fat. marrow from yak bones, toasted over the fire. small, delicate pieces of tender, juicy meat from the vertebræ of the antelope, laid before the fire and slowly browned. antelope head, held in the flames with the hide and hair on till it is blackened with soot. their taste is in general very different from ours. when they have killed a wild ass, they cut it up and keep the pieces in the tent, piled up around it as far as possible from the fire. the longer it has lain there, the better it is supposed to taste. the changpas prefer to eat their meat raw, hard, dry, and old. they take out from the recesses of their fur coats a yak's rib, which looks more like a piece of blackened wood than anything edible. then the knife is brought out, and the hard meat is removed in strips or lumps from the bone. chinese brick-tea is their greatest luxury, and the thicker and dirtier it is, the better they like it. they stir it up with a piece of butter. like the wild geese, they have learned by traditional experience where the best camping-grounds are. one may be sure that their tent is always pitched at places where there is little or no wind; that there is good pasture at hand for their tame yaks, sheep, goats, and horses, if they have any; that good hunting-grounds are to be found not far from the tent, and that water is always to be had. at the gomo lake they have excellent table-salt cost free. when their domestic animals have eaten up the grass around, and the game has been frightened away, they transfer their camp to another district. the tents are set up at the same spots where their forefathers have pitched them for innumerable generations, and where frequently old votive cairns have been erected of loose stones to propitiate the spirits that rule over mountain and dale. to the changpas, or "inhabitants of the north," who spend the winter in the north, the chase is the chief resource, and cattle-breeding is of secondary importance. the tibetans in gertse and senkor, on the bogtsang-tsangpo, or in naktsang, who own large herds, do not move northwards in winter, for with them hunting is an occasional occupation. the hunting tribes pursue the yak, the kiang, and the antelope. in hilly country they stalk them against the wind. constant life in the open air has wonderfully sharpened their intelligence. they know the peculiarities and habits of the yak as well as he does himself, and know how far they may go without overstepping the limits of his acuteness. they know that his senses of sight and hearing are not particularly well developed, but that he soon scents the huntsman, so that the attack must be made from the lee side. though he goes on the chase in his thick fur coat, the huntsman creeps as noiselessly and as lithe as a panther till he approaches within range of his prey. then he lays his gun on the rest, strikes fire from the flint with his steel, catches it in tinder, sets light to the end of the match, and sees that the hammer brings the fire at the right moment into the touch-hole. all is done so quietly, so deliberately and carefully, that the hunter has every prospect of bringing down the game. another time he watches for hours together behind a wall which he or his forefathers, perhaps his great-great-grandfather, has built beside a spring, and waits with angelic patience for a troop of wild asses, which come at sunset to quench their thirst. but the antelopes, wild sheep, and gazelles are too wide-awake to be caught by the most skilful hunter. yet the antelopes do not always succeed in escaping his cunning toils. he lays nooses for them on the old established antelope paths; among the hunting nomads in the interior of tibet, the quantities of antelope meat garnishing the sides of the tents are astonishing. [illustration: . smoking camp-fires in the heart of chang-tang.] [illustration: . our yaks, bought from the first tibetans.] while the men are away, the women look after the yaks and sheep, and when the hunter returns at sunset he sees the former chewing the cud in front of the tent, while the latter are shut up in a pen-fold of stone. the yaks remain at night near the tents, and hence the dung, the only fuel of the nomads, has not to be carried far. when it is dark, all gather round the fire on which the tea-kettle boils. then they talk of the monotonous incidents of their life, of the day's bag, the condition of their herds, and the work of next day. one mends his soles with sinew and an awl, another dresses a yak hide with his hands, and a third cuts straps from the skin of a wild ass. their life seems void and uneventful, but they have no wants--they know nothing better. they have a severe struggle for life in this unproductive corner of the world, which is called the chang-tang, or the north plain, where it has been their fate to be born. amidst poverty and danger they live victorious in god's free nature; the awful storms are their brothers, the lordship of the valleys they share with the wild beasts of the desert, and at night the everlasting stars twinkle over their black tents. if they were given comfortable huts down south in the shade of walnut trees, they would always be longing for the grand solitude of the mountains, for the icy cold, the drifting snow, and the moonlight of the peaceful winter nights in tibet. then death comes one day and looks in through the tent door; in vain is the constant prayer "om mani padme hum" repeated; vain are all attempts to conjure or propitiate the evil powers that are inimical to the children of men. bent, wrinkled, and grey the old hunter finishes his course, and is borne on strong shoulders to some shallow cleft near the mountain crest, and there abandoned to the wolves and birds of prey. when his grandchildren are grown up, they do not know whither he has been taken; in life he had no abiding dwelling-place, and after death he has no grave. and no one asks where the bones of the dead are bleaching, for the place is haunted by evil spirits. november . calm! in the night there were again degrees of frost, but it was fairly warm riding southwards towards the sun. the two horses of the tibetans had stampeded. but if this were a trick contrived to give them an excuse for making off themselves, it did not succeed this time; for i sent off one of them with two of my men to look for the horses, while the other had to accompany me and tell me the names of the places we passed. we did not know our men yet, and therefore did not dare to let them out of our sight, or they might have despatched mounted messengers to give information to the authorities in gertse. then we should have been ordered to halt sooner than it suited us. now we could feel easy, at least till we came to the next tent. but the horses were recovered, and the old man stumped after us leading them by the bridle. then we rode together between the hills and over small passes. here, too, gold occurred in two places. men come every summer, dig up the sand, throw it into the air, and collect the grains of gold on a cloth spread out on the ground. if the output is abundant, the number of gold-diggers is doubled the following summer. in camp no. , also, the tibetans showed no desire to desert us; they were friendly and attentive, helped us in unloading and setting up the tents, collected fuel, and undertook to be answerable for the horses. they seemed not to have the slightest suspicion that the country was forbidden to us, and not an echo of any especial orders had reached them from the south. i could not learn how matters stood. the plan of my journey had been alluded to in the indian press, and there was nothing to prevent tidings being carried to lhasa through darjiling or pekin; and i knew also from experience how soon an order against a european is handed on among the nomads. i had counted on hurrying on, like a thief in the night, as soon as possible after the english mission to lhasa, and appearing on the scene before the tibetans had quite made up their mind about the political state of affairs. but perhaps i was wrong, perhaps stricter regulations than ever had been passed. the western shadows move over the plain; only in the east are the hills deep crimson, in the west they show a pitch-black outline. another night spreads out its dark-blue pinions, and rises up to the zenith, driving before it an expiring reflexion of the setting sun. when the stars begin to shine we are out of doors examining the animals, which rejoice at being more lightly loaded on the march. at seven o'clock i am massaged and go to bed. at nine o'clock robert comes with the hypsometer, and we talk for an hour. then the light is allowed to burn till it flickers out. i lie a long time awake, watching the shadows come and go, as the wind shakes the canvas. i gaze at them till they turn into monsters and wild yaks, dancing mockingly round my prison. now it is striking midnight in the towns of siberia and india which lie on our meridian, and at length comes the deliverer sleep and drives away the shadow-pictures: they melt away and vanish on the horizon, which recedes more and more into the distance, no longer bounded by the thin web of the tent. now a low murmur seems to call to mind forests, meadows, and small rocky islands. i dream that a strong hand leads me to a parting in the ways. it points to a road, and a voice tells me that this will lead me to a land of peace, hospitality, and summer, while the other leads to dangers and privations among dark lofty mountains. when tsering brought the brazier in the morning, i was glad that i had in my dream chosen the latter road without hesitation. we penetrated further and further into this mysterious tibet. during the next day's march we passed a succession of deserted fireplaces, and in some places saw rows of stone cairns to entice the antelopes into snares. then we ascended a valley, in which a small strip of ice gradually expanded into a cake, filling all the space between the firm slabs of greenstone. the seoyinna came in sight--a dark mountain to the south, which would remain visible for a couple of days longer. our tibetans are already as intimate with us all as though we had been friends from childhood, and say that they have never met with such decent people. the elder is called puntsuk, the younger tsering dava. we sit for hours together at muhamed isa's fire and talk pleasantly, and i take notes as they describe to me in detail all the routes in tibet they are acquainted with. tsering dava has accomplished the pilgrimage to tso-rinpoche, or the holy lake manasarowar, which i long to reach, and which has been the subject of my dreams for many a day. the two men were to accompany us only three days more; they had left their yaks and sheep to the care of their wives and children, and wolves were extraordinarily numerous; otherwise they would have travelled any distance with us. they had arrived from gertse nineteen days before, and intended to stay six months; forty or fifty parties come every year from gertse to this country. they told us that the tokpas, or gold-diggers, when they go up to the goldfields for two or three months, take as provisions meal and meat, which are carried by their sheep and yaks. when the provisions are consumed they return home, passing the salt lakes, where they load their animals with salt, which they barter in inhabited districts for barley. thus they make a twofold profit on their journey, and can live the rest of the year on their gains. in the evening a dead horse, emaciated and wretched, lay on the ice in our valley. i had procured him for rupees from a dealer in leh, who in december had bought my last nine camels. next morning a mule died just as unexpectedly. he looked brisk and sound, and allowed himself to be loaded as usual, but had not gone a hundred paces when he fell dead. the two small tibetan horses, which travel with us, take a great interest in their fellows; but they do not seem quite sure that the animals, so thin and wretched, are really horses. at this day's camp, no. , we saw them run up to their masters for two large pieces of frozen antelope flesh, which they eagerly ate out of their hands like bread. they are just as fond of yak or sheep's flesh, and the tibetans say that this diet makes them tough and hardy. we cannot help liking these small shaggy ponies, which live to no small extent on the offal of game, are at home in the mountains, and bear rarefied air with the greatest ease; their lungs are as well adapted to it as those of the wild asses. the cold does not trouble them in the least: they remain out all through the night without a covering of any sort, and even a temperature of - . °, which we had on the night of november , does not affect them. though they are not shod, they run deftly and securely up and down the slopes, and the men on their backs look bigger than their horses. we notice with great amusement how heartily they greet each other at every camp. puntsuk, who shows muhamed isa the way, rides a small bay pony, which is already grazing when we appear. as soon as the pony catches sight of his grey comrade with tsering dava he neighs with delight, cocks his ears, and runs up to him; and the grey one exhibits just as much satisfaction. this is very different from the conduct of our dogs, which fight wildly as soon as they see each other. now we passed the seoyinna mountain; one flank was dotted over by numerous wild yaks engaged in feeding, and tundup sonam shot two. my men took the best joints with them, the rest of the meat our guides would fetch on their way home. they were evidently much impressed by tundup sonam's skill, but dava tsering declared that he had shot more than three hundred yaks in his lifetime, which was probably no exaggeration, seeing that these men live on the products of the chase. now we ascend rapidly to the chak-chom-la pass. tsering dava rides in front. his little pony trots up the ascent. when we have still a good distance to cover, we see the profile of the man and his horse on the summit, sharply defined against the sky. there stands a cairn of granite blocks, and many trails of gold-diggers run at a height of , feet. sitting beside a fire, rendered necessary by the cold and the wind, we gaze southwards over a vast extent of country, a chaos of yellow, reddish, and black crests. no plains appear between them, and we suspect that we have troublesome ground before us. near at hand, towards the south-south-east, a flat basin with a small lake occupies a large expanse. we ride down a very steep path to the camp where the tibetans proposed a day's rest on behalf of the yaks we had purchased. in the course of the day we settled accounts with our guides, who had been so friendly and helpful, and who now wished to return to their bare cold mountains where the winds and wolves howl in rivalry. they received each rupees a day as recompense, and a sheath-knife from kashmir, and a whole heap of empty tin cigarette-boxes, which seemed to please them more than the money. and then they vanished, swiftly and lightly as the wind, behind the nearest hills, and we were alone again. with degrees of frost our nine mohammedans celebrated their "aid" after ramazan with flute, dance, and song, and with a freshly slaughtered sheep. in the night the thermometer fell to - °. the ink was always freezing in my pen, even when i sat bending over the brazier; after a few minutes my washing-basin contained only a mass of ice. after a few hours' march we descried from a pass grazing horses, sheep, and some evidently tame yaks, and these were near a tent. farther to the west sheep and a number of yaks were feeding. five more tents were pitched in a sheltered place in a deep valley, and a troop of snarling dogs ran out to meet us. men, women, and children turned out to see what was the matter. the caravan encamped near, on the western shore of the lake dungtsa-tso, and presently received a visit from four tibetans. these, too, came from gertse, had arrived ten days previously, and intended to stay three months. the six tents contained inmates, who possessed together sheep, yaks, and horses. the oldest of our new friends was a lame man of fifty-three years of age, and was named lobsang tsering. he presented to me a dish of sour milk and a bundle of joss-sticks, such as are used in temples. he was willing to sell us three large yaks for rupees, and we took them without a moment's hesitation. when the caravan had set out next morning two other tibetans presented themselves, very eager to sell us two more yaks. when i told them that our money was on in front, they asked permission to go with us to the next camp, where the purchase might be completed. that evening, then, we were the fortunate owners of ten excellent yaks, and tundup sonam was appointed to be their chief and leader. our remaining mules and horses now carried only very light loads, and i was rejoicing that i could keep them all alive. but at this very spot another mule was frozen to death; true, there were . degrees of frost. our day's march ran round the lake and into a broad valley extending in a south-easterly direction. some kulans were peacefully grazing among the tame yaks of the nomads. a youth acted as guide to the caravan, and old lobsang tsering rode like a herald before me, mounted on a fine yellowish horse, which he would not sell at any price. as he rode he muttered prayers at an incredible pace--it sounded like the buzzing of a swarm of midges about a lime tree on a summer evening. i myself rode my dapple-grey from yarkand again, in order that my small white ladaki might have a couple of days' rest. the camp was pitched beside a pool of fresh water, where the most wonderful sounds were emitted from the firm ice all night long. it cracked and clappered, gurgled and snorted like camels and yaks, and one might fancy that a bevy of water-nymphs were dancing under the icy roof. the dogs barked furiously at the ice till they at last perceived that this noise must be put up with like everything else. at the evening fire lobsang tsering asked muhamed isa whether we had met with changpas at the gomo. but muhamed isa had promised puntsuk and tsering dava not to betray them. then lobsang winked an eye and said that islam ahun had already told him that we had not only seen nomads, but had bought yaks from them and had taken them as guides for several days. muhamed isa tried to turn the affair into a joke, and answered laughing that islam ahun had concocted the story himself. but the old man was sharp; he smiled cunningly, and seemed to regard the first version as the more probable. it was a great advantage to us that we had first come into contact with gertse nomads, who were themselves strangers in the country we passed through. they had received no orders from lhasa concerning us, and were beyond all comparison better disposed and more friendly than the eastern tibetans, who on my former journey had sent off messengers at once to the south. but we now found that the gertse nomads were afraid of one another; the first had begged us to tell no one that they had helped us, and had turned back at the right moment in order not to be seen by their fellow-tribesmen from gertse. lobsang tsering did not seem to be of a timid disposition; he led us to other tents, gave us instructions about the way to bogtsang-tsangpo, and was able to give us much interesting information. he told us, for instance, that nearly four thousand sheep and several hundred yaks are yearly employed in transporting salt from the lakes we had lately passed, and that the salt was carried to shigatse and lhasa. from these towns came most of the gold-diggers, and in the north were many other gold-placers which we had not seen. we soon perceived that lobsang was a man of importance, for all showed him the greatest respect, and we could see from his camp that he was rich. he spoke with dignity, and with an educated, refined accent. in his appearance he reminded me of a decayed actor, without a trace of beard, and with an animated expression in his dirty, copper-coloured face. unlike the rest, who wore sheepskin caps, he sported a red turban, and his fur coat was trimmed with red woollen stuff. in the front of his coat all sorts of things were stuffed, among them a vile pocket-handkerchief--a thick, coloured, square rag, constantly in use, but never washed. there also he kept his snuff-horn, which he could handle even in a wind with a certain dexterity. the fine yellow snuff was scooped up on the tip of the forefinger under the protection of the thumb-nail, and conveyed to its destination somewhat noisily. every evening muhamed isa made his report. this time he presented himself with the following statement: "sahib, rehim ali is still bad, and he begs permission to offer a sheep to allah." "very well, if he will be any the better for it." "oh yes, certainly, sahib." "i think it is all humbug, but it will do him no harm and the mohammedans will get an extra meal. i will give the sheep then." "no, sahib, that will not do; then the sacrifice would have no effect." "indeed. can i have the kidneys for dinner to-morrow?" "no, sahib, only mohammedans may eat of a sheep offered in sacrifice." "just so; of course in your opinion i am a _kaper_" (heathen). he laughingly protested, but changed the subject. "now we have mules and horses, or animals altogether, of the original caravan." "thirteen and eleven make only twenty-four," i replied. "oh! then i must count them again," said my conscientious caravan leader, and he gave himself much unnecessary trouble to make the figures agree. at last it proved that we had still twenty-five animals beside the yaks. chapter xvi our fortunes on the way to the bogtsang-tsangpo during the preceding five days we had covered forty-two miles in a direction degrees east of south, and on november travelled a little farther on the same course. we are now on a great, easily recognizable road, consisting of about fifty paths running parallel to one another, which have been worn by the sheep of the salt caravans and the yaks of the gold-diggers. in the country kebechungu, where nomads were encamped, our new friends turned back. in this part of tibet the sharply-defined configuration of the mountains occurring farther east, where longitudinal valleys alternate with lateral ranges, does not prevail. here one travels day after day among crowded hills of gentle outline, and small, level expanses are much less common. no lofty commanding mountain masses rise above this maze, and the eye searches in vain for the isolated, glaciated summits seen in east tibet. the weather had been quite calm during the season of severe cold, but when the storms returned at night, the temperature fell only to - . ° next day it was hard riding. we marched to the south-south-east in a strong south-west storm, and were almost suffocated in the gusts of dust-laden air which swept along the ground. we suffer greatly and cannot use our hands, the map-sheet is torn in pieces, and we wonder if we shall live to reach the next camp. our faces are distorted and assume quite a different expression, for we involuntarily draw the facial muscles together in the wind, to protect the eyes, producing a quantity of fresh wrinkles which are filled with white dust. the eyes are bloodshot and water, tears run down the cheeks, catch the dust, and freeze. the lips swell and burst, and the skin round the nails cracks so that the finger-tips bleed. at last, more dead than alive, we reach the camp, where the men have, with great exertion, set up muhamed isa's tent, and after many attempts have induced the fire to burn, which, now that it has caught, blazes with flickering tongues of flame and scatters sparks all round into the gyrations of the whirlwind. we hasten to restore our circulation, but that takes time. by degrees our facial muscles recover their elasticity and return to their proper position, and we regain our former aspect; there is no longer a twitch at the corners of our mouths when we laugh, though, indeed, we have precious little cause for laughter. half-a-dozen of our remaining mules come up, attracted by the warmth. sonam tsering wishes to drive them away, but i let the poor frozen creatures stay. the fewer they become, the more carefully we look after the survivors, and are always hoping to reach more hospitable country. there is, indeed, little hope of it; the barley and maize are almost consumed, and there is only one sack of rice left. in such nights one longs for a warm bed. the noise outside is as though artillery waggons were racing over a pavement of undressed stones. the wind comes in gusts as though driven by pulsations. a gust is heard whistling through the grass and dying away in the distance, only to be followed by another which rushes down the mountains like a waterfall, and seems determined to carry away the tent with it in its headlong flight. one does not look back with regret on the day now drawing to a close, but longs to get away--away from the chang-tang. november . in a month it will be christmas eve. shall we remain together so long? at the former camp the animals had no water, and at to-day's camping-place also we found nothing but hard ice at the mouth of a very narrow gorge, and consequently two mules passed away in the night, and a third followed them in the morning. my dapple-grey was suffering; i now rode a tall, yellowish horse which had carried the boat, and afterwards the box of cooking utensils. the latter was transferred to a mule, but he died before the next camp and a horse had to fetch the box. four mules in one day! we had now only eight. the yaks, the splendid yaks, carried all the baggage. when we left the bodies a troop of wolves sneaked out of the ravines. islam ahun, who had travelled with robert and myself since rehim ali's adventure, tried to frighten them away, but in vain. four great vultures had already mutilated one of the corpses; they must have begun early, for they were already satiated, and staggered slowly away as we rode past. the ravens waited at some distance for their turn to come. of horses and mules, and respectively now remained. the ratio between the survivors was therefore nearly the same as between the original numbers. it would, however, be hasty to infer that mules are as efficient as horses in the highlands of tibet. had we had small, tough sanskar horses in the place of the yarkand horses, the result would certainly have been in favour of the horses. on the other hand, our mules came from poonch. had we had tibetan mules, they would probably have held out better than the horses. but tibetan mules are seldom to be found in ladak. lower down the valley we came to a _mani-ringmo_, a stone cist covered with _mani_ slabs, and our men became quite lively at the sight, for it reminded them of their home. we rode up a height with an extensive view. to the south-east appeared rather a large lake, begirt with white fields of gypsum and terraces. crossing three rocky ridges running out to its western shore, we reached the southern bank, where we encamped. this must be the rinakchutsen ("the hot spring of the black mountain"), for every detail agreed with the description given us by lobsang tsering. the date is november , the day i had fixed on, when with colonel dunlop smith, as the most likely date of our arrival at the dangra-yum-tso. the post must therefore be at the lake long before us. the post? we did not know whether we should find on the shore a hospitable tent or an impenetrable wall of soldiers and horses and a fence of matchlocks. this is the lake which dutreuil de rhins discovered in and named "lac ammoniac." we did not cross his route, for he skirted the lake on the east, we on the west side. but just to the south of the lake we crossed bower's route of the year . we shall again remain for some days in unknown country until we intersect littledale's track of the year , mine of , and nain sing's of . in the night the temperature sank to - . °, the greatest cold we had hitherto experienced. we were, however, advancing southwards to lower regions. though the winter still continued, it could scarcely bring us lower temperatures. for four days we travelled towards the noonday sun, slowly marching over passes and through winding valleys, over small plains, where kiangs enjoyed their free delightful life, over a hard-frozen river, and by springs, round which emerald-green ice glittered in the sun, past a flock of sheep and four tents, and finally we emerged on to an open plain, enclosed by mountains, which sloped towards the south and contained in the middle a lake nearly dried up, where the crystallized salt and gypsum emitted a brilliancy like that of fresh-fallen snow. the country was called mogbo-dimrop; at the foot of the red mountains we descried six black tents surrounded by stone walls. namgyal and tundup sonam found only eight inhabitants, children, boys, and old men, for the strong men and women had gone out with the cattle. these nomads belonged to the province of naktsang, and were under the rule of the devashung, the government in lhasa, and therefore could give us no information about the country near the dangra-yum-tso, where the nomads are under the administration of tashi-lunpo. they would be very glad to sell us yaks and sheep if we would be so good as to wait here till the next day. then muhamed isa went off to the tents, and came back full of gloomy forebodings. an elderly man from a neighbouring group of tents had come to warn the others. he had declared in sharp commanding tones: "we know that you have a european with you, and to such our land is closed. we cannot stop you at present, but we shall take care not to sell you yaks or sheep, and we cannot give you any information. it would be better for you to make haste back again, or you will get into trouble." "we are on the way to the tashi lama, who is expecting us." "here we have nothing to do with the tashi lama; we are under the direct rule of the government in lhasa." tundup sonam, who had also gone to the tents, noticed that two youths were absent, and was convinced that they had been despatched as express messengers to the nearest _bombo_ or chief, in the south. we must therefore make all haste to reach a district which was under the control of tashi-lunpo. later on a wanderer came to our camp. he was ragged and miserable, and said that he was one of a party of pilgrims from nakchu, who with sheep and yaks had visited the holy lake and mountain in ngari-korsum, and were now on their way home to nakchu, where they would arrive in three months. the pilgrimage takes two years or more to accomplish, for the people remain for days, and often weeks, together where there is good pasturage. they followed the north side of the chargut-tso along an old established pilgrim route. [illustration: . "where are you going?" they asked me.] we broke up our camp early on december , with a temperature of - . °, which cost us the loss of another mule. he was at once devoured by the wolves, which were so bold that they did not go away when we rode past. when we had accomplished about half our march we came to a tent of which two snappy light yellow dogs seemed to be the only masters. but no doubt the inmates were afraid to show themselves, and examined us only through their spy-holes. near this day's camp there were more tents, and my usual dealers obtained two yaks, three sheep, and a can of dirty milk. before the tibetans would deal, they first inquired whether there was not a _peling_ (a european) in our party, and declared that they would visit our camp to convince themselves that such was not the case. the answer given them was that the principal personage in our company was a _kalun_, or high official, from ladak, and that we had several dangerous dogs. on that they gave up their visit. but when we started off two of them were present, one of whom muhamed isa took as a guide. the other remained standing by us and looked at me, trying to find out whether i was a _peling_ or a _kalun_. he was certainly doubtful, for he looked exceedingly disturbed as we rode off. this day robert and i lost our way. we had taken the hajji as guide, but he lost the trail, and stupidly wandered about aimlessly. as he had to seek for the track again, we settled down on an open space beside a fire, while the storm roared above our heads and dark threatening snow-clouds swept over the mountains to the north. at last muhamed isa became uneasy and sent out scouts, who at length found us out. camp no. was situated in the higher part of a lateral valley, where a spring was frozen into huge clumps of ice. at the fire we encountered two strangers in red turbans, round which their locks were twisted, with ivory rings, silver image cases, and fur coats trimmed with red and green ribands; they were armed with sabres encased in silver-mounted scabbards, richly encrusted with inferior coral and turquoise; they wore new coloured felt boots, and had their black muskets hanging from their shoulders. they belonged to the troop of pilgrims from nakchu. our ladakis, however, were convinced that they were come to spy upon us. if we seemed too strong for them, they would only ask--as, in fact, happened--if we had anything to sell; otherwise they would steal our horses. meanwhile they behaved very civilly, were exceedingly friendly, and promised to return next morning with some yaks and sheep, which we might buy. "we will remain near you till it is dark and will return before daybreak, for if any one saw us trading with a _peling_, we should pay dearly for it." "you need not be afraid, we shall not betray you," i said. "even if you did betray us, bombo chimbo, we should not be easily caught. there are many pilgrims on the way to the holy mountain kang-rinpoche (kailas)." "you may be quite at ease. come with your animals, and you shall be well paid." "good. but tell me, are you not the _peling_ who came five years ago with two companions to nakchu, and was compelled by the governor to turn back?" "yes, that was i." "we did not see you ourselves, but all the province was talking about you, and you had shereb lama as a guide. you had also a large caravan with camels and several russians in your service." "how can you remember all that?" "oh, it was repeatedly said that it would be a marvel if you escaped the robbers." i clearly perceived from this not very flattering popularity that, if the common people were so well informed of my doings, the authorities would find it easy to follow my track. now the tibetans knew that it was i, and no one else, who was penetrating to the heart of the forbidden land. how speedily this fact would be transmitted to the south! how quickly would the devashung bring us to a halt! where would our grand progress come to a standstill, checked by a peremptory "thus far and no farther," backed up by muzzle-loaders and sabres? ah, where would my dreams again be shattered and my aspirations cease to pulsate? in the morning, when the pilgrims had returned, i was waked early and went out to view the market that had been created in the wilderness as by an enchanter's wand. the sun had not yet risen above the mountains, the camp lay in icy-cold shadow, and the air was dull and raw. the smoke circled round the fires in suffocating density, and through it i saw six splendid yaks with wooden saddles. the tibetans in their picturesque costume, with sabres jingling at their sides, knives and amulets, gesticulated vehemently, and in a torrent of well-chosen words extolled the exceptional qualities of the grunting oxen. the result of the affair was that all six yaks passed into our possession, and we also bought two packets of brick-tea, a bag of bhotan tobacco, and a couple of bladders of butter. robert piled up the shining silver coins in rows at the door of my tent, and the eyes of the tibetans shone with delight at the sight of so much money, and at hearing the ring of the silver. an empty tin and a tin cigarette box found their way, as usual, into the front of their fur coats. "do you know the way to the south?" i asked. "yes, we know it well." "if you are disposed to accompany us, you shall receive three rupees a day." "we should like to, but we dare not." "what are you afraid of?" "we have heard that to the south of this pass the country has been roused and that soldiers are being collected to render your further journey impossible. we must go quickly northwards. our people are already ahead." "where do you think that the soldiers are waiting for us?" "that no one knows, but it is certain that they are gathering together." "what, in your opinion, do they mean to do with us?" "they will prevent you going farther southwards, but will do you no harm." "how do you know that?" "because the bombo chimbo was friendly last time, and did not refuse to march westwards when he was required to do so." "which way will they ask us to take this time?" "probably the same as before, to ladak." the silver money rattled in the tin boxes as they mounted and disappeared down the valley, while we, now owners of eighteen fine yaks, struggled laboriously up the small steep pass overlooking camp no. . we had a wide view southwards over side ranges separated from one another by broad valleys. but it was not long before heavy snow drove us away. numbed with cold, we rode down to the level country. from the plain the hajji pointed back to the pass, where three riders showed black against the snow; they rode down at a smart trot and soon overtook us. their black, snorting horses steamed, they carried guns at their shoulder-belts, and sabres in their girdles. their reddish-purple mantles were rolled up on the saddle behind them, and they rode in sheepskins, black and greasy from the soot of camp-fires, and the blood and fat of slaughtered game, which in the course of years had hardened into a smooth crust intersected with cracks. as we were the object of their ride, they followed at our heels, slackened their pace, and rode up to my side. a coarse fellow asked shortly and boldly (illustration ): "what are you?" "pilgrims." "where do you come from?" "from ladak." "whither are you travelling?" "to the dangra-yum-tso." "people from ladak never come from the north." "that is quite possible, but we come from the north. where have you been yourself?" "with relatives who are camping to the east. we have two more days' journey before we reach home." then they spurred their horses and rode after the caravan, which was encamped at the foot of a rock. here they let their horses graze, behaved as though they were at home, and subjected muhamed isa to the same cross-examination. shortly before sunset they rode off westwards. we had an uncomfortable feeling that something ominous, something decisive, was brewing, and that our fate might perhaps be settled next day. for it was clear as day that the men must have been spies. they were a patrol of the numerous express messengers sent into all the valleys by orders from lhasa to beat up the men fit for military service. soon these incorruptible riders would crop up like mushrooms from the ground. the camp no. and the weather were in harmony with our mood as we awaited our fate. there was no pasturage, only ice, and the fuel was scanty. opaque clouds obscured the sky, snow was falling on the mountains, the north-west storm moaned round the corners, and whirled the ashes and scraps of dung about so that they found their way into my tent, where the dogs lay rolled in a corner to keep themselves warm. again, on december , we left a mule behind. the land was covered with snow, and the ride was fearfully cold, icicles hung from my moustache, and my right foot lost all feeling. hundreds of antelopes and kiangs were grazing to the left of our road; the dogs dashed at them, but soon came back again, for the animals would not move an inch. no men appeared, and we thought that the real opposition would be encountered at the bogtsang-tsangpo, that is, where i had last time been forced to turn westwards. the next day's march took us over rather tiring hills where small points of weathered porphyry cropped up here and there out of the ground. spoors of wild animals ran in all directions, and cattle and sheep tracks were equally numerous. but not even at the bogtsang-tsangpo did anything suspicious appear. we calmed down again and rested here on the th. our store of rice and flour was consumed; there was only a little for me, so that i had my freshly-baked bread every morning and evening. the others had to live exclusively on mutton, so that every day one sheep at least was needed. just as tundup sonam and two other men returned from a foray, bringing with them six fat sheep, we saw six men on foot coming to our camp. our grand vizier, muhamed isa, received them before they were brought before me. the principal among them thus introduced himself: "i am the _gova_ (district chief) of this country, and have received tidings from the north that you are on the way southwards. you passed through here five years ago with twenty-five camels. i am now come to inquire your name, how many servants and pack-animals you have, and whither you intend to go." "why do you put these questions?" "because i must forward information to the governor of naktsang; if i do not, he will cut my head off." he was given the particulars he wanted, and then he asked: "will the bombo chimbo be so kind as to wait here until the answer comes back?" "where is the governor of naktsang?" "in shansa-dzong on the kyaring-tso." "how long will it take a messenger to reach him?" "ten days." "then the answer will be here in twenty days. no, thank you, we have no time to wait so long." "but you must wait three days, until i have sent for a man who can write." "no, we are off to-morrow." so far all had passed off well. instead of encountering an armed force, we found the country open for twenty days longer. but after that things would be different; the governor of naktsang would not let me take another step farther southwards; i knew him in the year and found him inflexible. the least we could expect was that he would detain us till the answer of the government was received. like dutreuil de rhins and grenard, i should have to wait one, perhaps even two, months. our chief, however, pursued a little private policy of his own, and said that the relations of the devashung and india were now friendly, and therefore he would treat us as friends. he dared not sell us baggage animals or provide us with guides without the consent of the governor, but he would gladly impart to us all the information we desired. he mentioned some names according with those given by nain sing, and showing how conscientiously the celebrated pundit had performed his task. the conical height to the north of our camp he named tugu-lhamo; the gobrang is a ridge to the north-east of it, and a side valley is called ragok. nain sing gives the names dubu lhamo, gobrang, and ragu. he reckons the distance to the dagtse-tso, the salt lake by which i encamped in at the mouth of the bogtsang-tsangpo, at nine days' journey. it is easily explained how nain sing fell into an error here, and also represented the river as flowing into the chargut-tso, for he was not there himself and trusted too much to the frequently unreliable information of the chiefs. in the course of the evening the chief became still more friendly, and proposed to travel with us for three days under the pretence of keeping an eye on us. he would, however, keep some distance from us, and, like a night-owl, join us only when it had become quite dark. in the night he pitched his chieftain's tent, green above and white below, beside ours. we passed quickly eastwards along the bogtsang-tsangpo in only five and a half short marches, partly close beside the river, partly along parallel valleys which skirt its southern bank. on december we lost sight of it, but in the district pati-bo it again emerged from a narrow transverse valley. eastwards the fall is extremely slight, and the river winds in most capricious curves, so that the path touches the bank only at the southern bends. a quantity of hearthstones and fenced-in sheepfolds show that many nomads spend the summer on the bogtsang-tsangpo. the volume of water is very insignificant, for the river is principally fed by sources which are called into existence only by the autumn rains, and fail in winter. thick ice lies over it all, and is deeply hollowed by the constant fall of the river. the ranges on both sides run in an east and west direction, and frequently three such crests are seen at the same time towards the south. one is often astonished at the whim of the stream in turning sharply to cut through a rocky crest, whereas it would seem much easier to flow on along the open longitudinal valley. but, like most mountainous countries, tibet presents many such puzzling problems, difficult of solution. at a place where comparatively warm rivulets flow in on our side there is a short, wide reach of the river where robert caught fish, a very welcome variation in our monotonous diet. in the night we had degrees of frost, and on december the thermometer sank to - . °. the caravan now consisted of horses and mules, besides the yaks. the yaks are not accustomed to long day's marches, so we proceeded very slowly eastwards. we could not hurry our marches, much as we should have liked to do so. there were several men sickly, and the medicine chest was in great demand. muhamed isa especially suffered from headache, and many a time as we passed by he was lying on his back on the ground. he was dosed with antipyrine and quinine, and i advised him to walk as little as possible. the chief became more and more at home with us, and no longer observed his former caution. he sometimes called on nomads on the way, but his tent was always set up among ours. every day he brought to me one or two nomads, who gave me information about the country and sold us milk and sheep. several were from ombo, a village and district on the north shore of the dangra-yum-tso, where a couple of stone huts stand and barley is cultivated. the pasturage round the lake is said to be so poor that the inhabitants of its shores have to migrate northwards with their flocks in winter. unfortunately they had not heard of a post messenger from shigatse, but they were equally ignorant of any order directed against us. on december we left the bogtsang-tsangpo and directed our steps towards the south-east. at night a violent storm arose, but the minimum temperature was only . °; the night before there were . degrees of frost. another mule died in the night, and the surviving animals had to be carefully guarded from the wolves, which were unusually daring. we started on december to the pass la-ghyanyak ( , feet high), where a pyramidal cairn marks the divide between the bogtsang-tsangpo and the dangra-yum-tso. the former can be seen meandering along its valley to its termination in the lake dagtse-tso; the latter is not yet visible, but we can guess where its basin lies among the huge mountain massives. yonder lay the holy lake dangra-yum-tso, which had long been our aim, and whither i had requested colonel dunlop smith to send my letters. to the south-west arose two dominating snowy peaks above a sea of mountainous undulations, and in the same direction lay a small round lake, the tang-yung-tsaka, already seen by nain sing, and named by him tang-yung-tso (illustration ). the country seemed desolate and uninhabited, and no riders spurred through the valleys to block our way. farther down we passed two tents, where the inmates told us we were on the wrong way if we wished to go to the dangra-yum-tso, for it could be reached in a direction due south in four short marches. all naktsang knew, they said, that a _peling_ was coming, a report that, however, had probably spread from the north, not from the south. if the mail-runner had actually reached the lake, he would hear that we were not far off, and would look out for us. now the thermometer sank to - ° again, and we let the animals rest a day. meanwhile i, with robert and shukkur ali, made an excursion on foot through a singularly wild romantic valley, which was little over a yard broad in some places, and was cut out between vertical walls. often the bottom is filled with fallen blocks, which obstruct the way, but elsewhere it is occupied by a brook, now frozen up. the rapids and waterfalls of this brook are also congealed into glassy ice, and shine with a bluish-green tinge in the depth of the valley, where the summer flood has excavated curious caves. here the wind is confined as in a pair of bellows, and roars and whistles round the cliffs. in an expansion of the valley we kindle a fire and take a rest. along the precipice above us six proud eagles soar with motionless wings. according to previous arrangement rabsang came to meet us with some of our yaks, so that we could ride back. he brought us disturbing news. at the tents we had seen farther up the valley on the day before, twelve armed men had collected to waylay us. an express messenger had, it seems, brought word from shigatse that we must be driven back to the north. i did not question him further, and we rode home in silence. it was a bitter experience now, when we had looked down from la-ghanyak on the great unknown country crossed only by nain sing's route of the year , which we had intended to intersect at one point only, to see all the grand discoveries, of which i had dreamt so long, blown away like mist. and it was especially irritating to think that others might come here later and rob me of these conquests. reminiscences of the past autumn and early winter came into my head; we had successfully executed an immense traverse over the chang-tang, and at the critical moment the nomads had come to our assistance. it had been a splendid bold journey hitherto, but i had always considered it only as a prologue to the grand plans which kept me awake at night and had occupied my thoughts during the long weary ride. and now they would receive their death-blow. now my dreams of victory would be resolved into blue haze, like the smoke of the camp-fire which marked the southernmost point of our advance into the forbidden land. chapter xvii christmas in the wilds much depressed but outwardly composed, i dismounted from the yak and entered my tent just as tsering brought in the brazier. the tent seemed more dismal than usual, the brazier made me feel weary, and at this moment i seemed to realize how lonely and dull my life had been all through the winter; but tsering was as tranquil as usual, and raked the fire with the tongs to remove some still smoking dung. "now you see that i was right; how often have i told you that we should be ordered to halt at the bogtsang-tsangpo?" i said. "ordered to halt?" exclaimed tsering in astonishment. "yes, now we are stuck fast, but i will not move a step from the spot until the tibetans have provided me with a new caravan, though i have to wait all the winter. then we will go north-eastwards, look for the mongolian pilgrim road, and hasten to pekin. i will force the mandarins to allow me to see the parts of tibet where no european has yet been." "i do not understand what the sahib means; hitherto no one has hindered us, and the country southwards lies open before us." "what are you talking about? have they not come this very day to stop our further progress?" "no, on the contrary, three tibetans are sitting with muhamed isa, and they are most civil and friendly." "has, then, rabsang played a trick on me and the babu sahib?" "ah," replied tsering, laughing, "now i understand the matter. rabsang was up at the tents this morning, and allowed himself to be frightened by a tibetan, who told him that we should be forced to remain where we are, for we had no right to travel southwards to naktsang. but that was only the tibetan's own notion, and rabsang, who had to go immediately after to the valley with the yaks, had not heard how matters really stood with us." "bravo, tsering, slay the fattest sheep we have got, and invite every one to a feast. i will have the kidneys fried in their own fat." now the storm-beaten tent seemed more comfortable and the brazier sent out a pleasant kindly heat. i sat buried in thought, wondering whether this were a good omen, when muhamed isa announced a visit of the three tibetans. i invited them to take a seat at the fire. turning to the chief man, who wore a blood-red fur coat and a brick-red fox-skin cap, i asked him who he was. "i am karma tamding from tang-yung," he answered; and i was astonished that he gave his name at once, for the tibetans are generally shy of doing so, lest they should bring upon themselves retaliation on the part of their superiors when their names are known. "we are, then, in the province of tang-yung?" "yes, bombo chimbo, the pass you crossed yesterday is its northern boundary; to the west tang-yung extends for three days' journey, and as far to the east, and southwards to the dangra-yum-tso." "why have you come to my tent, karma tamding? has one of your superiors sent you?" "no, but idle rumours have been current here for some time. first it was an old woman, who would have it that two hundred men were coming down from the north. large bands of robbers from nakchu have plundered the nomads in the north, and we felt sure that they were robbers who were coming into our country. the day before yesterday we heard that it was only a peaceful european, who took, indeed, yaks, sheep, butter, and milk from our people, but always paid well for them. i am now come to see our guests with my own eyes, and i am very glad to find you instead of a robber band." "you have not heard, then, that any messenger from shigatse has been inquiring about us?" "no, not a word. but this very day i have heard that an express has been sent from the bogtsang-tsangpo to shansa-dzong, and that messengers will travel thence to lhasa." "will you be so good as to sell us yaks, karma tamding?" "yes, willingly. i saw you five years ago at the bogtsang-tsangpo. then you were conducted over the frontier by a large escort and two officers, but now europeans seem to be privileged to pass through the country." "will you procure us guides?" "certainly; but which way do you think of taking? if you wish to go to the dangra-yum-tso, you must cross the kam-la, which lies a little farther up this valley. but if you prefer the route to the ngangtse-tso, you must travel on eastwards. it is all the same to us which way you take, but i must know for certain. i will ride back to my tent and fetch parched meal, which you can buy when i overtake you in a few days. the yaks i will send to-morrow morning." karma tamding seemed so trustworthy that i handed him half the purchase money in advance, and the next day we bought yaks at rupees a head, and received a guide, who conducted us over two difficult passes, eastwards to the rara country, and on december over the pike-la, a gap in a longitudinal valley running parallel to the bogtsang-tsangpo. we were compelled to camp early by one of our three mules, which could not travel any farther. he came up to the fire with trembling legs and laid himself down. "the news of his death will be the first i shall hear in the morning," i thought, but i had not to wait so long, for before the stars had begun to twinkle he lay stiff and cold in the smoke of the camp-fire. only two of the poonch mules were left. then karma tamding rode up with twelve other tibetans, two of them women. they sat down by the fire and looked at me; and i looked at them. the older woman had a fine sheepskin, and on the forehead an ornament of pendent coral and silver coins from lhasa. the younger was similarly dressed, and had a huge lambskin cap. little could be seen of her, but the little that was visible was dirty beyond belief. the men were strongly built and well proportioned--one could perceive that, when they drew off the right sleeve and exposed their breasts to the heat of the fire. when we had gazed at one another long enough, and i had learned that the small lake near by was called the tarmatse-tso, the whole party crawled into muhamed isa's tent to offer their edibles for sale. and there parched meal and barley was bought to the value of rupees; it was quite a pleasure to see with what an appetite our last twelve animals emptied their bags of barley; they had so long had to put up with the execrable grass of the desert. next day we took leave of honest karma tamding. "on the boundary of naktsang you will meet with an elderly man, named chabga namgyal, who is just as nice as i am," were his last words. we continued our long winter journey through tibet eastwards along the same convenient longitudinal valley, and bivouacked in the district neka, an ominous name (it means in swedish to refuse), which might perhaps have brought us bad luck had the supreme chief of tang-yung, whose headquarters are here, been at home at the time. fortunately he had a short time before set out with his wife and children to tashi-lunpo for the new year festival, and had consigned his large herd of yaks and flock of sheep to the care of his servants and his herdsmen. they sold us milk and butter, but disapproved of my disturbing the gentle fish in a neighbouring pool. within an hour i had twenty-five on dry land, which were a great treat at dinner. robert had been unwell for some days, and now developed high fever, which confined him to his bed. sonam tsering suffered from a curious mountain sickness, in consequence of which all his body swelled up and assumed a livid hue. two others were unwell, and the medicine chest stood open again. sonam tsering's tent was like an hospital, where all the sick found shelter as soon as they were incapacitated. only old guffaru was still healthy, did the work of two, and had at present no use for the shroud he brought from leh. his large white beard had turned yellow in the smoke of the fires, and his hands, frost-bitten in winter, were dark and hard as iron. we stayed two days in camp no. , to give the invalids a rest. my dapple-grey from yarkand was nearly drowned in a spring; fortunately he was seen from the camp, and ten strong men pulled him out of the mud. then he was dried at the fire, rubbed well down, and covered with cloths. but his days were numbered. on december we ride on along the longitudinal valley parallel to the bogtsang-tsangpo, and encamp at the mouth of a transverse valley, which belongs to the southern mountains, and is called kung-lung. frozen springs are seen on all sides; the farther we advance southwards the more the country is fertilized by the monsoon rains. the ground is honeycombed by millions of mouse holes; they are so close together that there is no room for more. the field-mouse here does the work of loosening and ploughing up the ground that the worm does in our soil. but the herbage derives no benefit from it, for the mice subsist on the roots and destroy the grass. when we had passed the boundary between tang-yung and naktsang, and had just pitched our camp at the source of the brook draining the kung-lung valley, three riders with guns suddenly appeared, who were making for the same spot, and behind them came a dark group, perhaps soldiers. probably they were about to arrest us here, at the first camp in naktsang. no; another false alarm. they were simply peasants from the bogtsang-tsangpo, who had been to naktsang to barter salt for _tsamba_ (parched meal) and barley, and were now on their homeward journey. the troop consisted of members of several tent villages, among which the goods would be distributed. the _tsamba_ and the barley were carried by yaks, horses, and sheep, and seemed sufficient to last many households all the winter. here i heard for the first time of the lake shuru-tso, but i little thought that i should bivouac on its shore next spring. the range on the north, in which the keva is the highest summit, is the water-parting between the dagtse-tso and the kung-tso, a lake visible to the east. on the south we had the range which we had first seen at the dangra-yum-tso, and which afterwards skirts the south side of the tang-yung-tso. in the night the continued westerly storm increased to a hurricane, which blew down my tent. it was fastened up again, but at dawn i was awakened by a report like a gunshot, for one of the strained tent ropes broke, and another tore itself out of its iron cap, which fell with a sharp clatter against the tent. a shower of stones and coarse sand beat about my airy dwelling, so that it required a certain amount of resolution to issue forth in weather worse than we had experienced in chang-tang. "how much longer will the storm last?" i asked our guide, as he joyfully and thankfully pocketed his rupees after he had handed us over to another guide of the naktsang tribe. "six months," he replied. we marched eastwards, gradually diverging to the south, and thus passed round the chain which had hitherto lain on our right. on the way we found adul in a hollow, and asked him how he was. [illustration: . near the dangra-yum-tso. in the valley below is seen the little lake tang-yung-tso. sketch by the author.] "i am dying," he answered, without moving a muscle. i sent one of his comrades and a horse from the camp to bring in his corpse, but next morning he was as lively as a cricket. such weather is certainly not enjoyable, but it is no use to complain of wind and weather. my horse staggers about as if he had drunk too much. at the opening of every lateral valley we may be sure of a buffet that will make us reel in our saddles. we bend sideways against the wind to help the horse in maintaining his equilibrium, and we draw ourselves together so as to present a smaller surface to the wind--indeed, we are like a sail that must always be set according to the direction of the wind, and we have to trim ourselves just as one would handle a sailing-boat in a high sea. we rested awhile in the shelter of a rock, to recover our breath, and when at length we reached the camp in nadsum we had suffered as much as we were able to bear. to the north-east, beyond the mountains, lies the dagtse-tso, which bower, dutreuil de rhins, littledale, and i have visited; on the way thither a lake is passed, called the goang-tso. on the nd we took our way to the south, where a range of considerable height bars the road to the ngangtse-tso. we followed the river sertsang-chu upwards; a little water still bubbled and trickled down under its thick covering of ice. in the evening we received a visit from eight tibetans, two of whom had lost all their yaks by a kind of cattle-plague. we ascended the same valley for another day's journey, and found five tents in an expansion of the valley which was called torno-shapko; at several spots we saw large flocks of sheep guarded by dogs as snappy and impudent as the nomads themselves. some of these fellows came into our camp and used very rude language, daring even to say that we must not remain here but must pack off with all speed. to buy milk and butter was out of the question. muhamed isa drove them away and threatened to report their conduct to the governor of naktsang. our guide, a boy of fifteen, was frightened, but was persuaded to accompany us a day longer. december . when i woke an old mendicant lama sat singing before my tent. he had a little withered woman with him, and their small light tent was pitched quite close to us. in his hand he held a staff bedecked with coloured strips and with brass plates, coral, shells, tassels, and other ornaments, which he made to spin round as he sang. the old man had in his lifetime wandered far and wide, begging his way from tent to tent, but when i asked him to accompany us and to bring in the christmas festival with song at our camp at night he declared he was too tired. the road led us higher up the same valley, soon leaving the sources behind. we passed two _manis_ with prayers inscribed on the slabs, one of which was feet long. two tents stood at a spot where two large valleys converged. the unfriendly men we had met yesterday had gone on before us and had warned the people not to sell us anything if we asked them. two of our men tried to trade, but met with a refusal, whereupon muhamed isa laid his riding-whip smartly across the backs of the mischief-makers. then the whole company fell on their knees, became remarkably civil, and brought out at once all the butter and milk they had on hand. our valley now runs eastwards, and at last rises in a south-easterly direction to a pass. evidently no great road runs over it, for there is no cairn on the summit. it turned out later that the youth had led us astray, omitting to turn aside through a southern valley to the pass gurtse-la. however, it was of no consequence, for the view from our pass was grand, and below us lay a lake not marked on nain sing's map. the valley descending from the pass is so deeply eroded that we had to keep for some distance to the heights on the right side. islam ahun led my tall dapple-grey, which was weak and sickly; he took only a few steps at a time, but he could still graze. we had made a long march, and the camp could not be far distant, so he would perhaps reach it. i therefore only stroked him as i passed, while he held his nose to the ground and plucked up the grass. but when i left him to his fate and rode on, he raised his head, sighed heavily, and gazed after me. i was deeply grieved afterwards that i did not remain with him. he had carried me faithfully on the long dreary journey from our departure from leh until his back became one great sore; then he was not worked till his back was healed. afterwards he was degraded to a pack-horse, but when our caravan was reinforced with yaks, he was exempted from work of any kind. latterly we had had abundance of barley for the animals, but he had shown no signs of recovery. this day, however, he had managed to climb the pass, and would surely be able to get over the short remaining distance. but islam ahun came into camp alone. the horse had stumbled on a very steep descent, rolled over several times in the débris, and then remained lying. islam, who had received strict orders to be careful of the dapple-grey, stood and waited, but the horse did not move again, and died where he was. why did i not understand him when he so plainly said a last good-bye? i was much grieved at it, and for a long time could not forget the troubled expression of his eyes as he saw me ride away. the remembrance haunted me when it grew dark at night and the winter storm howled in cold dreary tibet. down below in the valley basin lay the dumbok-tso asleep under its ice mantle, out of which rose a small rocky ridge, the tso-ri or "lake mountain." up above the heights were still bathed in sunshine. the dumbok-tso was the most important discovery of the day. the watch-fires burned in front of the tents and threw a yellow light on the surroundings. then the day's notes were filled in, and robert, as usual, labelled the rock specimens we had collected. "dinner is ready," says tsering, as he brings in fresh fuel, and the _shislik_ and sour milk are served and placed on the ground before my bed. then i am left alone with a thousand memories of swedish christmas feasts, and the words: "christmas is now under every roof," and "frozen is the limpid lake, it waits for the winds of spring," from the poet topelius' christmas song, rings in my ears. the christian community in our camp consisted only of robert and myself, but we determined to celebrate the christmas festival so that the heathen also might have their share in the enjoyment. for some time we had kept all the candle ends, and now had forty-one pieces of various lengths. we set up a box in the middle of my tent, and arranged the candles on it so that the largest stood in the middle, and the others became smaller and smaller towards the corners. that was our christmas-tree. when all the candles were lighted we threw back the flaps of the front of the tent, and the ladakis, who meanwhile had assembled outside, gave vent to a murmur of astonishment. they sang softly in rising and falling tones. i forgot for a time the solemnity of the moment, and gazing into the flickering flames of the candles let the minutes of the holy night glide slowly by. the sentimental air was now and then interrupted by a thundering _khavash_ and _khabbaleh_ in which all joined, howling like jackals. the flutes performed the accompaniment, and a saucepan served as a drum. lamaist hymns at a christmas festival under the constellation of orion! dimly illuminated from the tent, and flooded by the silvery light of the moon, my men presented a weird appearance as they turned themselves round in their native dance, keeping time to the noise of the saucepan. the tibetans of the neighbouring tents perhaps thought that we had all gone mad, or perhaps that we were executing an incantation dance, and had lighted sacrificial lamps to propitiate our gods. what the wild asses, grazing on the lake shore, thought of it, no one can tell. our young guide, who had been placed in the middle of the tent door, caused us much amusement. he stared, now at the lights, now at me, without uttering a sound, sat like a cat on the watch with its fore-paws on the ground, and did nothing but gaze. he would have wonderful stories to tell his fellow-tribesmen, which would certainly lose none of their effect by the embellishments added by himself and amplified in the course of repetition. perhaps the memory of our visit still survives in the country, in a legend of singular fire-worshippers who danced and bellowed round an altar adorned with forty-one burning candles. when the youth was asked how he liked the illumination, he made no answer. we laughed till our sides ached, but that did not disturb him; he continued to glare with eyes full of astonishment. when he had somewhat recovered his senses next morning, he told tundup sonam in confidence that he had had many experiences, but that he had never met with anything so extraordinary as the evening's entertainment. he would not sleep with us that night, but went off to the tents of his people, and on the first holiday he begged permission to return home. the lower the candles burned down, the brighter the stars of orion shone into the opening of the tent. the corner lights had long gone out, and only a couple in the middle continued to flicker. then i distributed a small sum of money among the men, beginning with robert and muhamed isa. that was the only christmas present. after this the men retired to their fires, which had in the meantime gone out. two had to stay behind to explain to me one of the songs in which the word tashi-lunpo had repeatedly occurred. it was more difficult than i expected to translate the song. in the first place, the men did not know it well themselves, and, secondly, they did not know the meaning of some of the words it contained. other words they understood well enough, but they could not translate them into turki or hindustani. first we wrote out the hymn in tibetan, then robert translated it into hindustani, and i into turki, and finally from the two translations we concocted an english version which had no sense or meaning. but by repeatedly taking the song to pieces and analyzing it, we at last made out what the subject was--it was a glorification of the monastery tashi-lunpo, which was the goal of our hopes. the learned who happen to be acquainted with ancient tibetan hymns will be very much amused if they take the trouble to read the following translation. it certainly has the merit of forming a record in poetic license. now rises the sun shining in the east, from the eastern lands over the heights of the east. it is now the third month that the sun mounts up, pouring forth floods of heat. first fall the beams on the temple, the house of the high gods, and caress the golden battlements of tashi-lunpo, the roof of the venerable cloister temple, and with threefold brilliance glitter the pinnacles in the sun. on the highest meadows of the temple vale shy antelopes graze in thousands. hard is its crumbly soil, but still rich is the vale and green and lovely, and grass thrives on its poor land, and brooks ripple down with cool water. the highest, ice-covered mountains glitter like transparent glass. the nearer summits rise like a row of lofty _chhortens_, and close at their feet beat the blue waves of the yum-tso, playing on the holy strand. take water from the lake and fill the sacrificial bowls of the holy idols, moulded of brass. then decorate with silk cloths of every kind and colour, which from pekin come, and adorn also with veils the tall golden images of the gods, and fill the temple halls with hanging standards. take _kadakh_ cloths, holy and dear, of best silk from the town of lhasa, and lay them on the forehead of buddha's image. so ended our christmas eve in the wilderness, and while the glow of the christmas fire sank down in the ashes i read the old bible passages relating to this day, put out my light, and dreamed of christmas festivals in the north, and of tashi-lunpo down in the south behind the mountains, the goal towards which we had been struggling amid suffering and privation all through the cold winter, and which was still far off and perhaps even beyond our reach. chapter xviii ten days on the ice of ngangtse-tso from the christmas camp we travelled southwards over two passes, of which the second, called laen-la, forms a watershed between the dubok-tso and the ngangtse-tso. the great lake itself we do not see yet, but a distant bluish background of mountain chain which rises from the southern shore of the lake. a yak was lost; he was not exhausted, but his fore-hoof had split so that he had become lame. when once he had laid himself down no power on earth could induce him to get up again; tugging at the rope, which was passed through his nasal cartilage, availed nothing. we therefore left him behind, and gave him to the natives nearest to our camp. several yaks and the surviving veterans from leh were in need of a thorough rest, so we decided to remain a fortnight at the great lake. it was certainly risky to linger so long at one place in naktsang, where i had met with such determined opposition in the year , for we should give the authorities time to make their preparations. but we must rest; we had no choice. after a night temperature of - . ° we marched down the longitudinal valley to a point immediately above the place where the valley emerges into the lake-plain, and bivouacked near a group of tents containing six households. the whole country is corroded with mouse holes, and sometimes they lie in stages one above another. if one reckoned in the central parts of tibet only one field-mouse to the square yard, the resulting total would be marvellous. at camp no. , for instance, it was impossible to lay down my bed without covering several holes, and i was awaked in the morning by the mice, which were making a noise and squeaking beneath my bed, and wondering why they could not get out of their house door. the nomads of the district were friendly disposed, and sold us sheep, butter, and milk. they said that the high road to shigatse skirted the east side of the lake; another to the west of the ngangtse-tso was much longer and more difficult. the highway to lhasa runs eastwards through shanza-dzong. thus far it had been followed by nain sing, whose route we crossed here; for from the marku-tso, a small lagoon on the north shore, the road he took passes to the west-north-west. many nomad communities winter on the extensive plains of the lake shore, especially on the south side. the nomads never travel over the lake, the most direct and quickest way, for they mistrust the ice, and our last guide would on no account accompany us over the lake, but warned us of the thin ice. his statements seemed to me more probable when he said that the lake was salt, that the water was not fit for drinking, and that there were neither fish nor plants in it. the long period of rest must be utilized somehow. it had, moreover, been one of the aims proposed in the original scheme of my journey, to investigate the country round the central lakes discovered in by nain sing, and to execute soundings in several of them. if the ice held firm we could go over the lake, and sound through holes. two men were therefore sent out to examine the ice: paces from the bank the ice was inches thick, at paces ¼ inches, and even at paces inches; so i determined to commence at the nearest point to our headquarters. robert and muhamed isa were to remain behind to watch over our animals and attend to them. it might, indeed, be risky to split up our caravan just at this time, but i could not remain idle for a whole fortnight. there was everything we needed at the headquarters--nomads, pasturage, water, and fuel; the place seemed to be of some importance, for a round _mani_ stood in the valley, and robert found on a ridge a _samkang_, a hermit's cave, with a small stone wall in front of it. there the lama togldan was wont to dwell in summer, earning his bread from the neighbouring nomads by murmuring formulæ to conjure evil spirits, and offering up prayers for the prosperity of their flocks. we had an hour and a half's journey to the northern shore, and there innumerable camping-places indicate summer visits of nomads. there the tents are situated among excellent pasture lands, exposed to the noonday sun, with the great lake, often agitated by boisterous storms, in front of them. we got ready provisions for ten days for myself and half a dozen ladakis. two live sheep were taken. the men were to take robert's small tent, but i intended to sleep under a half of the boat, which was to be pushed over the ice as a sledge, laden with all the baggage, bed, furs, and instruments. the boat would also be a source of safety should we at any time venture on to too thin ice. the white puppy was to go with us to keep me company. during my absence robert occupied my tent, where the barograph and the thermograph ticked on my boxes. on the afternoon of december i rode down to the ngangtse-tso, where camp no. was pitched on a lagoon under the shelter of a shore embankment. towards the east-south-east the country is open as far as the sight can carry; the eastern shore of the lake is scarcely perceptible, the western not at all; in the south-west snow mountains rise up, which, i said to myself, must be nain sing's "targot lha snowy peaks." rabsang was my valet, bulu my cook; they arranged my improvised hut, and the building material consisted of half of the boat, the stand of my photographic camera, and a frieze rug. for dinner i was given leg of mutton, sour milk, bread, orange marmalade, and tea; and then i smoked an indian cheroot and gazed at the lake, which was to be thoroughly investigated during the succeeding days. the th of december, a sunday, began brightly with . degrees of frost. puppy had kept my feet warm. it was rather tight work washing and dressing in my den, but when at last i was ready, i could enjoy the fire, the sight of the sun and of the great lake. the baggage was quickly packed, and the boat was dragged on to the ice and kept in equilibrium by two runners, while six men pushed it forward. but the ice gave us much trouble. the salt separated out on freezing had collected on the surface like dry potato flour, sometimes forming continuous sheets, sometimes swept up into banks, ridges, and drifts, in which the runners and keel stuck fast. however, in spite of it, we worked our way on in a direction ° east of south, where i had selected a small dark cliff on the south shore as a landmark. the first hole was cut out; the ice was ½ inches thick, and the depth of the lake, reckoned from the edge of the ice, only feet. after we had wandered on for some time we held a council; i saw that we could not go on as we were. we took off the runners and put together three simple sledges, on each of which a third of the baggage was tied. and in this way we struggled on a short distance farther, while i went on foot. at the next hole the depth was . feet; probably we were on one of those extraordinarily shallow salt lakes, such as i had often met with in north-eastern tibet. again we held a consultation; our sledges made such slow progress that we should never get over the lake at all, far less traverse it several times. when two of the baggage sledges, which had lingered far behind, came up, i sent a message to robert to send me more men and all the pieces of old boxes that were in the caravan. [illustration: , , . on the ngangtse-tso.] meanwhile we took off the two zinc runners, which were screwed into the gunwale and into which the mast thwart was fitted. they were then fastened as sledge cheeks to two benches bound together; to the sides of this singular vehicle two long poles were attached, meeting at an angle, through which the towing-rope was slung. a caucasian _burkha_, which i had bought at trebizond, was laid in several folds on the benches. for the sounding apparatus, the field-glass and other articles, we stretched a hammock between the poles. when the structure was complete it astonished us; for we had only to give this newly devised sledge a push and off it ran a good way by itself. now the boat was contemptuously discarded, and when rabsang with the towing-rope over his shoulder hurried off southwards over the ice unaided, the boat soon diminished to a black speck and disappeared. the others had orders to follow the track of the runners at their leisure; they would soon get help when the other men came (illustrations , , ). wrapped in my large sheepskin i sat cross-legged on the sledge, which glided merrily over the ice by the hour together, while rabsang had no need to over-exert himself. the sledge cut through the salt ridges as though they were nothing, and bumped with a pleasant rumbling noise over the places where the ice was lumpy; it jumped over cracks and fissures, where the edges of the ice shone green, and clear as glass, and on smooth patches shot noiselessly forward, so that its point reached rabsang's heels if he did not jump on one side just when the line became slack. it was really not dangerous on the ice, which was nowhere less than inches thick. so the tibetans' dread of drowning was exaggerated. but they have always the greatest respect for the spirits inhabiting the lakes, and would rather go all round a lake than cross it, mistrusting the winter repose of the raging storm-beaten waves. many singular effects of congelation may be observed, which change their forms in various parts. sometimes they are innumerable vertical figures in perfectly clear dark ice; seen from the side they have the form of oak leaves, but looked at from above they resemble stars with four arms thin as paper. at other places you find blocks of white porous ice embedded in clear ice, the result of a storm which has broken up the first ice-sheet of early winter, whereafter the blocks are enclosed in new ice on the final freezing over. water is squeezed out through long narrow cracks, and is congealed into screens sometimes a yard in height, forming fantastic sheets and domes, and edges and points often as sharp as a knife. rabsang has only to give them a kick to clear a passage for the sledge, but these thin ice-fences are very misleading, and render it difficult to estimate distances. we sounded in eight holes, and the greatest depth was only feet. the bottom consists of dark clay mud. it took a good quarter of an hour to cut out a hole in the ice with axes and crowbars. as soon as the last blow drove through the bottom of the ice, clear, cold, dark green water welled up and filled the cavity, and then the sounding weight was let down by its rope. the first line of soundings had occupied far too long a time, chiefly owing to the interruptions and repeated rearrangement of the baggage at starting, and we were still far from the nearest shore when the sun set in clouds of red and gold. but the full moon shone in the heavens, the rocky promontory was sharp and clearly perceptible, and we made all haste we could. the ice was uncomfortably lumpy, so that i had to traverse long stretches on foot. cold, white, and desolate the ice mantle of the lake extended on all sides; all was silent and quiet, only the crunching sound of our own footsteps could be heard. if nomads had pitched their tents on the shore we were approaching they would be much perplexed by the black specks moving out on the lake. but no fire illumined the night and no wolves howled. in the darkness we could, of course, gain no notion of how much further we had to go. at the last hole the promontory had not appeared much larger. and so we marched onwards until rabsang suddenly came to a halt with the information that we were only a few hundred paces from dry land. there we left the sledge and advanced to the outlying mountains, where several fallen blocks of stone lay at the foot. under one of them we sat down to wait. then rabsang collected as much fuel as he could in the dark. we must light a signal fire to guide the others. at length they tramped up, tashi, ishe, bulu, and islam ahun, all heavily laden, for they had preferred to leave the sledges behind and carry the baggage. two hours later some dark points were noticed out on the ice; it was the reinforcement, and now i had ten men with me. they had seen from the lake fires at four places; we were therefore surrounded by nomads on all sides, but we had no need of them, so we did not trouble ourselves about them. profiting by experience, we made the most practical arrangements possible for our next day's wanderings. islam ahun was to return to headquarters, collecting all the things we had dropped on our way, and was to see that the boat was fetched. rabsang and tashi drew my sledge, the others carried the baggage. at first they followed a road along the shore before taking to the ice and making for the goal for the day, in the north-west. we keep them in sight all day. they march in indian file, trotting, swaying, and singing, and sometimes sitting down for a rest. then they use the firmly tied bundles as back-rests. but they cannot get up again without help; it is very easy for six of them, but the seventh, that is, the one who has to get up first, finds it more difficult. he rolls over on to his stomach, wriggles up with the help of a stick, and when he has at length accomplished the feat, he helps the others to get on their feet. the ice was excellent, far better than on the first traverse. also the salt was less abundant, owing to the westerly storms which sweep it eastwards. for long distances the ice lay pure and smooth in front of us, and had a dark green colour. i did not know what to make of it when we tramped over the dark patches. were there warm springs at the bottom which prevented the lake from freezing over in parts? but we soon became accustomed to the sight, the ice was firm and at least ½ inches thick, while the greatest depth amounted to ¾ feet. i sat like a statue of buddha cross-legged on my toy sledge, smoked, took observations, made notes, and rejoiced that i could keep new year's eve on the ice of ngangtse-tso. about mid-day a south-westerly wind arose, and i had to ride backwards so as not to get frozen. a lead running north and south puzzled us greatly. it was feet broad, and ran in either direction as far as the eye could reach; open water lapped between the margins of ice. probably it had come into existence during a storm, when the whole ice-sheet was slightly disturbed towards the east, and had left behind it a yawning channel. after a long search we found a place where fresh ice was being formed below. using the sledge as a bridge we crossed over dry-footed. how the others got over the difficulty i do not know, but they were not afraid of wetting their feet. we went ashore rather early, at a place where horses were grazing on the wide plain and a youth was watching sheep. he scampered off in a hurry when he saw us coming, and i was not surprised that he was afraid when he saw ten great fellows stealing like ghosts over a lake that had never been trodden by human foot. the ladakis sat round a large fire, sang, and blew their flutes, and the moonlight poured down a cold, peaceful flood of light over the unknown strand where a party of wandering strangers were passing a single night of their lives. it was the last night of the year , and the camp was our hundredth. a splendid new year's morning in ! with joyful hopes for the new year and its work i began the third line of soundings in a direction south, ° e., towards a dark spur lying between two valleys where ice-clumps glistened in the sun. the spur seemed to fall steeply to the lake and the distance seemed tremendous, but it was an illusion: the low plain extending from the foot of the mountains to the lake could not be seen from the ice. we had to cross the fissure of the day before, but it had frozen over in the night. but water stood in many other fissures and spurted up as we passed over. this day our porters kept up with us, and their songs resounded far and wide over the ice-fields. at every new hole they settled down and awaited the result of the sounding with genuine interest. singular men, always cheerful and contented, never down-hearted and complaining, taking everything as it comes, and calm and composed in all kinds of wind and weather. puppy has had enough of running over the ice, suffers from cold feet, jumps on the sledge as soon as it comes to a halt, but has a decided objection to riding. a conical summit to the south of camp no. dominates the whole lake like a lighthouse. nain sing, who touched the north shore of the ngangtse-tso, has drawn the outline of the lake on the whole correctly, but has made the south-western part too broad. there also the sheet of water narrows down to a point, and the whole has the form of a half-moon. the mountains, which the pundit has inserted in his map on the south side of the lake, are very erroneously portrayed, and no wonder--for he saw them only from a great distance, and could not possibly, in these circumstances, obtain any proper notion of their configuration. it is just as hard to form an idea of a lake by viewing it from the shore; this is possible only from a pass or a crest. we wondered whether we could reach the southern shore before twilight, for the distance seemed still enormous. about noon the wind began to blow strongly, whirled up white clouds of dry salt, swept them along the ice, and obscured our view. sitting on the sledge i was exposed to its full onslaught, and had to be careful not to open my mouth. here and there the ice rose in undulations, as though it had been formed in a high sea; the ice-waves also have a steep slope towards east-north-east, the way of the wind. in the troughs between them the salt-dust driven by the wind collects, and lends to the ice-field a curious appearance like watered silk. all the eastern half of the lake is concealed by the rocky promontories near which our camp, no. , is pitched. we penetrate more deeply into the southern bay. yaks graze on the slopes, and towards evening are driven down by a man. to the south also we catch sight of tents, yaks, and groups of kiangs. from our low point of view they seem to be moving in the midst of the lake; the acuteness of the angle of elevation deceives us. at the last sounding-hole the axe and crow-bar bored deeper and deeper into the ice without breaking through. not till a depth of ¼ inches was reached did the water burst violently up, full of the usual small red crustaceæ--the salinity of the lake cannot therefore be very great. somewhat further the ice was found to lie directly on the clayey bottom without a layer of water beneath it. then we came to the sterile shore, and were glad that we were this day independent of vegetation. we found fuel and obtained water by melting lumps of ice. the greatest depth on this line was . feet, or a little less than on the others. we had another boisterous storm towards evening. the lake ice, only a couple of yards distant, vanished completely from sight, and the dung-gatherers suddenly emerged from the mist when they were only a few steps from the fire. i could not understand how they found their way in such a thick atmosphere. they erected a shelter from the wind with the sledge and three sacks of fuel, and sat behind it by their fire, the flickering flames almost singeing their faces. the group was exceedingly picturesque in the dark night and the struggling moon-beams. and how it blew! i could scarcely keep my feet when i read the thermometer, and my cap flew in all directions. in the night the men slept huddled up together in the shelter of the tent. the temperature on january was - °. to-day the fourth line had to be executed; it was short, it is true--barely five hours, but trying. we had to march south-westwards, straight in the teeth of the wind. moreover, the ice proved rough and heavy, doubtless in consequence of the slight depth of the lake. the maximum depth was . feet. in my diary, this day is described as one of the worst, if not absolutely the worst, day of the whole journey. but we always think that what is present is the worst, forgetting the horrors of the past. the storm drove the salt before it in thick clouds, which scoured the ice with a swishing sound and dashed into my face. when i ordered my two "towing horses" to keep the direction, a quantity of salt flew into my mouth, and i had the greater difficulty in getting rid of the disagreeable taste that the powder also made its way into my nose. my eyes became red, watered, and ached. my hands, from constant contact with the sounding-line for several days, were encrusted with salt, and the skin cracked so deeply that the blood ran. sometimes my hands turned blue, were stiff, and lost all feeling, so that it was only with the greatest difficulty that i managed, holding the pen in the fist like a chisel, to jot down the results of the soundings, the times, and distances; other notes were not to be thought of. rabsang and tashi at all events kept themselves warm, for they had to put forth all their strength to drag the sledge against the storm. where the ice was smooth they could not get firm foothold, slipped and fell; once tashi was thrown into my lap, capsized by the gale. often the wind was so strong that sledge, and team were driven backwards, and the men could only stop themselves by sitting down and planting their feet against a ridge of salt. i became so benumbed and helpless that i could not rise, and had to remain sitting while the holes were hacked out. but at one hole, which was broken in a field of ice as smooth as a mirror, the wind seized the sledge and myself and carried us in a dizzy race over the lake like an ice-yacht. i tried to put on the drag with my feet, but i had no power in them, and my boots of soft felt glided lightly and jauntily over the ice mirror without reducing the speed in the least. the runners were too short, and the sledge revolved in a circle, but still it moved onwards, and if the ice had been all smooth, the storm would have blown me back in a few minutes all across the lake to camp no. . then my vehicle fortunately tilted over in a fissure, i was thrown out, shot a little way farther over the ice, and landed on a salt ridge. rabsang hurried sliding after me, picked up me and the sledge, and drew me back to the hole unharmed (illustration ). our appearance was enough to frighten one another. we looked like swollen disinterred corpses, dried in the sun and daubed with white oil paint. faces, hands, and clothes were white with salt. i could not wear my sheepskin again; it was stiff, had given way at the seams, and had to be thrown away with other clothes. we had not yet covered half the distance. the men exerted themselves as though they had to struggle through water feet deep. oftentimes i could not see through the clouds of salt, and nothing was visible of the ice beneath the sledge; it seemed as though we stood still while a foaming white flood poured down on us ready to swallow us up. i wondered whether we should ever reach the shore alive. there was very little life in me when we at length landed. the sledge was anchored to prevent the storm carrying it away, and then we climbed five terrace banks, one after another, to seek shelter behind the wall of a sheepfold erected on the sixth. fortunately we found dry yak dung there in great abundance, and soon had a roaring fire, at which i had to sit a good hour before my limbs became at all supple again. from camp no. to the southern extremity of the lake the distance measured paces. there large herds were feeding, and six tents were set up at the mouth of the valley. about five o'clock the storm ceased as suddenly as it had sprung up, and it became strangely calm. when i took the meteorological observations at nine o'clock all my men were lying in a row, with their heads against the wall, their foreheads on the ground, and their legs drawn up, and as close to one another as sardines in a tin. they slept well; that i could tell from the tunes their nasal organs emitted. there were shells of freshwater molluscs on the strand, and a quantity of goose feathers in a bank formed of decaying algæ. at present the water of the lake is not fit to drink, but the ngangtse-tso was a freshwater lake formerly, that is, when it still discharged into one of its neighbours. wearied by our exertions on the previous day we slept till late, and then started off in a north-easterly direction towards the red porphyry mountains which jut out into the lake to the west of camp no. . we had no storm, but a brisk wind, and when it blew at our backs we glided like oil over the ice. i had a pole to steer with. [illustration: . in a snowstorm on the ice of the ngangtse-tso.] beyond the promontory we encamped in a deep hollow to obtain shelter from the wind. a shepherd was feeding his sheep on a slope and tried to make his escape, but rabsang overtook him. he thought we were robbers. he had nothing to sell, for he was in the service of another man. but rabsang requested him to bring his master to us. meanwhile the others had arrived, except ishe, who had fallen ill, and was left lying in the middle of the lake. two of his comrades fetched him in the evening. all were tired out, and begged that they might make a short march on january , and that suited us well, for the shepherd's master came and sold us a sheep, butter, sour milk, and a bag of tobacco. it was high time, for the provisions were almost consumed. the tobacco was quite a godsend to the men, for latterly they had been reduced to smoking yak dung! the old man gave much interesting information about the ngangtse-tso, and told us that there were then fifty to sixty tents pitched in the valleys of the southern shore. so far all was well, but the day was not yet ended. chapter xix driven back a dismal, inauspicious day was january , . towards noon islam ahun appeared, half dead with weariness. he had left headquarters on the morning of the nd, and searched up and down the lake for us; had been on the west and on the south shore; and at last, following the most recent track of the sledge, had found us in our dell. he brought me a letter from robert: yesterday, on january st, six armed men came to the camp, made a few inquiries, and went off again. to-day, the nd, they returned with some other men, and said the governor of naktsang had ordered them not to allow us to proceed further, because we had no passport from the devashung, and that we must remain where we are. they wanted an answer from master, in order to report to the governor, who would communicate immediately with lhasa. they are waiting impatiently for a reply, so i am sending off this letter. after islam ahun had rested and eaten, he had to take back a letter to robert at camp no. . robert was to inform the ambassadors that i would not give an answer until i had seen them in person; if they were so anxious to hear it, they might come on the afternoon of the th to the northern shore at a distance of three miles from camp no. . if they did not, they must be answerable for the consequences. muhamed isa must come with them as interpreter. now matters were coming to a head. this time it was not a false alarm. tidings of our journey had been sent to lhasa, and we were in the hands of the governor of naktsang. i had put off the decisive moment in order to get time for at least one more line of soundings. if i could advance no farther in naktsang, at any rate i would complete my investigation of the ngangtse-tso. afterwards the great retreat might commence. the intense excitement in which we had lived during the past months had now reached its culmination, and the ngangtse-tso was to be the turning-point of our journey. i heard distinctly the creaking and grinding of the hinges as the great gates of the land of holy books, the forbidden land in the south, were slammed in my face. at length we set off to camp no. , which was situated on the southern shore to the east of camp no. . january . every blade and stalk was covered with rime in the early morning when we marched over the ice in a direction north, ° e. the day was fine and calm, the air pleasant, almost warm. was the spring coming? did spring set in so early in these more southern regions? it had seemed so far off that we had not thought of looking forward to its mild air while the long winter of chang-tang still lingered in our limbs. we needed more warmth to thaw properly. the ice cracked and groaned wildly in the night, but it was not on that account that i slept badly. here the ice-fields form long waves; banks of water pressed up and then frozen, brittle as glass, came in sight every minute. the greatest depth, . feet, occurred when we were . miles from the shore, and was the deepest we sounded in the ngangtse-tso. the lake is, then, deeper in the east; the west wind silts up its western half with sand and dust. half way across we saw a small dark speck on the ice in the direction of the laen valley. it was the hajji with a letter. the envoys had received fresh orders from the governor of naktsang. in four days he would appear in his own exalted person, and meanwhile his representatives were to watch us closely. consequently they remained with the caravan, but they had allowed robert and muhamed isa to transfer our headquarters to a place south-east of camp no. , where the pasturage was better. we had therefore freedom for a couple of days longer. the governor of naktsang! it was he who in had made me halt at the south side of the zilling-tso. i could expect no mercy from him. on the contrary, i had on the former occasion given him so much trouble and annoyance that he would be furious at my return to his province. on january ishe was so ill that the hajji was obliged to take him home. now we crossed the lake again in a direction north, ° e. we had just arrived at our second sounding-hole when three men, who had followed our track, came in sight behind us. they made signs that we should stop, so fresh news must have arrived. we were able to cut out our hole and take a sounding before they came running up to us. they were muhamed isa with two other of my men, perspiring and breathless, and i invited them to make themselves comfortable on our lawn. "what is the news?" i asked. "sahib, twenty-five tibetans have pitched their tents round about ours. we wished this morning to move our headquarters to the shore, in order to be nearer to you. all the animals were laden, and we were about to set out, when the men came out of their tents and forced us to unload the animals again, and ordered us to stay where we were." "have you heard anything more of the governor?" "he is to be here in three days. mounted messengers are coming and going daily, often several in one day, and they seem to ride fast. they are in constant communication with the governor and send him reports." "what do they say to my remaining away so long?" "they are exceedingly astonished at it, and repeatedly ask us what the sahib is doing out on the ice. they have had spies on the shore, and believe that the sahib is dredging up gold through the holes from the lake bed." "are they civil to you?" "yes, but determined and immovable. they say that the governor himself will decide our fate. their number has been greatly increased during the latter days, they have provisions brought to them, and they expect further reinforcements." "what is their intention, do you think, muhamed isa?" "ah, the outlook is not bright. they certainly intend to render our further progress impossible, and to force us to go northwards." "we have to thank for this that ill-omened fellow on the bogtsang-tsangpo, who has despatched an express messenger to naktsang. if we come to a deadlock here, they must provide us with a new caravan, and we will travel to pekin. there i will procure permission from the chinese government to travel through tibet. how is the caravan?" "all's well. a mule died the day before yesterday, and my black saddle-horse yesterday. eight horses and a mule are left. the yaks are in splendid condition." "we shall have plenty of time to rest at this lake, for if we have to negotiate with lhasa, it will be a couple of months before the question is settled. now, go back and remember me to the others." we went on with our sounding and found a maximum depth of . feet. on the shore old banks were plainly perceptible; they have here been exposed to the breakers of the western storms. the highest might be about feet high. there paced a solitary wolf, farther back kiangs were grazing; they looked at us inquisitively for a long time, and then darted away as lightly and swiftly as the wind. we saw no sign of our porters, and on the shore, where we walked along the highest bank, we did not find a track. why did they not signal by lighting a fire? at last we caught sight of them far off in a northerly direction. they were tired and lay down to sleep as soon as they reached land. i did not scold them, but rabsang seized the first he could get hold of by the hair, and then gave them all a thrashing in turn, which, however, did not prevent them singing as merrily as usual in the evening. now my work on the ngangtse-tso was finished, after marches over the ice aggregating miles. on january the porters with all our belongings, except my tent, set off for headquarters. i waited for my riding horse, did not allow my mind to be disturbed, and was in no hurry to give myself up to the tibetan militia--those horrid black riders who had so often interfered with my plans. no news came from shigatse, no post from india. i had ordered it to arrive at the dangra-yum-tso on the th of november, and now it was january . had ganpat sing lost the letters, or had they never reached leh? was it, perhaps, impossible, for political reasons, to send me my letters from india? i had to wait a long time. it was not till one o'clock that a man appeared with my horse, and at the same time a caravan of yaks appeared on the inner terrace embankment, driven by tibetans. we supposed that it was the governor's baggage train, but the tibetans said that they were natives of laen, and had been attending the market in naktsang. we were three hours from the camp. seven wild asses trotted in front of us for an hour; the wind was strong against us. clouds of sand and dust swept along the bank, the icy surface became invisible, and the wild asses disappeared like ghosts in the mist. the light was curious and confusing, the ascent became steeper, and fresh hills continually appeared out of the dense air, which was like muddy water. often a small troop of goa gazelles sprang lightly past. we did not see camp no. until we were close upon it. a deep erosion channel running towards the lake. on its right flank are our four tents, looking eastwards. muhamed isa stands at his fire, his hands in his pockets, his pipe in his mouth (illustration ). all the others come out. the tibetans peer out of their tents like field-mice out of their holes. robert reports: "all quiet on the shipka pass." the day before our horses, chased by wolves, had stampeded and had taken the tibetan horses with them, but they were all found again in scattered groups along the shore. i entered muhamed isa's tent; when i was seated the principal tibetans were summoned. they presented themselves immediately, bowed low, and thrust out their tongues as far as possible; this time this original mode of salutation seemed to me a mockery. a man with a red turban, dark-blue fur coat, and a sabre in his belt, had been in in hlaje tsering's camp on the eastern shore of the chargut-tso, when we encamped together, and he reminded me of that time. "is hlaje tsering still ruler of naktsang?" i asked. "yes, it is he who is coming the day after to-morrow." "is he bringing with him as large a following as last time?" "no; he perceived then that the troops of mounted men did not frighten you, and he trusts that you will be amenable to his wishes." january was spent in repacking the baggage, and on the th the tibetans set up another tent, intended, they said, for the governor's kitchen. at dusk two riders arrived, who announced that the governor begged to be excused for not arriving at the stated time. he was an old man, had had the storm against him on the way, and could only travel slowly, but he would certainly be here on the evening of the th. then i sent for the chiefs of the tibetans, and told them that they would not be admitted to my presence again if they did not speak the truth this time. "bombo chimbo," they replied, "if the governor is not here in three days you may cut off our heads." "that is not necessary; it will suffice if you bind yourselves in writing to pay me a fine of ten horses if the governor is not here in three days." "we will give you twenty horses." "no, ten are enough." and now the contract was drawn up and signed. "have you any fresh information?" "yes; the governor has brought only his own twelve servants. he knows that the bombo chimbo is come back, for he received a letter from the bogtsang-tsangpo, saying that the same traveller who had been there five years ago with a camel caravan was there again. then he sent an express to lhasa, and waited ten days for an answer, but at length decided to come himself." our patience was put to the trial again, as though we had not had already occasion enough to exercise it. at last, on the th, a small group of cavaliers appeared against the hills, and soon after a blue-and-white tent stood in the camp of the tibetans--they had now seven in all. then followed a party of mounted men, one of whom sat very much bent, wore a red _bashlik_, and was carefully wrapped in furs. "that is hlaje tsering," we were told. his followers carried guns decked with red pennants. they seemed very starved, quickly withdrew into their tents, and we heard nothing more of them. january . all too soon a messenger came to ask if i would go to the governor's tent, or whether he should first pay me a visit. i sent an answer that i would let him know when i could receive him. my poor storm-beaten tent was made as fine as circumstances allowed; there was no room for more than two guests, but frieze rugs and cushions were laid down for them, and between these seats and my bed a large brazier was placed, so that the old man might get a good warm. my messenger was just gone, when two horses were led up to the blue-and-white tent, and the old man mounted one, a young lama the other; the horses were led by the bridle, the other tibetans fell in on foot, and the procession moved off slowly to our tents. [illustration: . hlaje tsering and his travelling companion, a lama, at my tent on the ngangtse-tso.] hlaje tsering, for it was really my old friend, came in a parade costume of chinese cut, with a chinese cap, decorated with two foxes' tails and a white glass button, and in boots trimmed with velvet and with thick white soles. on his silken robe with wide hanging sleeves he wore a short collar of otter skin, and in the lobe of the left ear a large earring of pure gold studded with round turquoises. when he appeared i went to meet and salute him. we at once recognized each other, exchanged warm greetings, nay, almost embraced, and remarked how singular it was that we should meet here again in the midst of the wilderness after five long years. holding his hand in mine, i conducted him to the modest seat of honour, and invited the lama, his secretary, a son of the yunduk tsering of , to take a seat. i sat cross-legged on my bed beside him, robert and muhamed isa in the tent door, while the rest of the space framed by the opening was filled with a mosaic of tibetan heads. muhamed isa, the interpreter, wore a robe of ceremony presented to him by younghusband in lhasa: it was made of thick, cerise-coloured tibetan woollen material, and was confined round the waist by a coloured girdle; on his head he wore a tall gold-embroidered turban from peshawar. he put us all in the shade with his finery (illustrations , .) after i had taken out a box of egyptian cigarettes, and hlaje tsering had for a time examined everything in the tent, he said with a solemn, troubled manner: "in my capacity as governor of naktsang i cannot allow you to proceed further, to shigatse or in any other direction within the boundaries of naktsang. soon after the english expedition to lhasa i received orders from the devashung to allow no european in future, as formerly, to travel about in naktsang. my instructions are that if any european forces his way into naktsang it is the duty of my office to stop him and force him to turn back." i replied: "it is impossible that the conditions remain the same as five years ago, when you held up my caravan with your militia of men. since then the indian government has concluded a treaty with the devashung in lhasa, and now the two governments are on most friendly terms." "hedin sahib, you will remember what took place last time. you were then so kind as to turn back at my request, but you do not know what befell me. all the expenses of the levy raised against you i had to pay, and the devashung demanded from me rupees in addition. i was ruined, while my colleague, yunduk tsering, enriched himself by exploiting the people, and now lives, a wealthy man, in lhasa. we are old friends, but i cannot expose myself to new vexations on your account." "it is true, hlaje tsering, that we are old friends, but you cannot expect me to undergo another journey through chang-tang on your behalf. i owned animals when i left ladak five months ago. now, as you can see yourself, i have only . i will not be persuaded to return by the same way, and by the treaty of lhasa you have no means of compelling a stranger by force." "the treaty of lhasa was concluded with england. you are not an englishman but a swede-_peling_." "you have the more reason to show me hospitality. england forced a war on you against your wishes; my country has not done so." "you are right; your people has never injured us. but in my instructions no distinction is made between different nations. i shall certainly not force you to retrace your steps to ladak by the long troublesome route by which you came; i know that this is impossible without a large strong caravan. it is of no consequence to me whether you succeed in reaching shigatse or not, but you must not travel thither through my province. in naktsang there is only one road open to you, namely, the one by which you came. i do not mind what road you take afterwards, and if you can force your way to shigatse from the northern and western shores of the dangra-yum-tso, that is not my affair." "you know that the tashi lama was in india a year ago, and how well he was received there. he expects me in his capital, and no one else has the right to hinder me on my journey to him." "naktsang is under the devashung, not under the tashi lama." "the dalai lama took to flight when the english troops drew near to lhasa. the tashi lama is now, therefore, tibet's foremost grand lama." "quite right; we do not understand the action of the dalai lama, and do not approve of it. he should have been the first to protect his country from its enemies. but that has nothing to do with the question. i receive my instructions solely and only from the devashung." "and i shall not leave naktsang until the tashi lama has confirmed your statement that the way is closed. i will, then, forward a letter to the representative of the indian government in gyangtse, major o'connor, and if he replies that the political situation forbids my travelling further, i will leave tibet. i will await his answer here, at the ngangtse-tso. and i have another reason for this resolution. i am expecting letters from india, which are to be forwarded through major o'connor. you will understand that i am not disposed to leave naktsang before the arrival of my letters, which will doubtless be sent on by order of the tashi lama." "that is all very fine, but have you any proof that the tashi lama will assume the responsibility of forwarding your letters? you have no passport from the devashung. have you one from the tashi lama? it is not my duty to serve your pleasure. if i send your letter to gyangtse on my own responsibility i shall lose my head." "i will send two of my own ladakis with the letter." "no; the land is closed to them as much as to you. and, besides, how long do you expect to have to wait here for the answer? several months?" "oh no; it is english miles to gyangtse, and the journey will not take more than twenty days, even with short marches." "i shall not leave this place till you have started northwards and passed the frontier of naktsang." "and i will not start till i have received an answer to my letter from gyangtse." "you cannot possibly remain here long. you cannot feed your men; there are no nomads here, and those who dwell in the neighbourhood are poor as rats." "i saw many tents on the southern shore and large flocks. at the worst we can live by hunting; there is plenty of game here. as i ask nothing but that you will allow me to wait here for an answer, you might oblige me so far." "there you make a mistake. in my position neither shigatse nor gyangtse has anything to do with me. when the english had evacuated tibet the devashung sent a proclamation round to every _dzong_ (governor's residential town) in tibet that we had certainly been beaten, but that we had lost none of our territory and were still masters over it, so that the old regulations with regard to european travellers were still in force. i will try to meet you as far as i can, and will now withdraw to my tent to take counsel with my people." at the same time i held a council of war with robert and muhamed isa. it was perfectly evident that we could not continue our journey southwards. on the other hand, it seemed possible that, making a detour to the dangra-yum-tso, we might penetrate into the country on its west side, which was governed, hlaje tsering said, from saka-dzong. were we driven from there, we would direct our course to pekin. why? i am certainly very optimistic, but i had a conviction that i could befool the chinese emperor as marco polo did, and obtain his permission to travel about freely in tibet, with some kind of special mission as a pretext. muhamed isa thought it was an enormous distance to pekin, but robert was enthusiastic about the journey. we would only take our best men; for the others i could procure permission to return to ladak through gartok. we should have a hard journey at first, but through southern mongolia we should fly on bactrian camels like wild deer over the steppe. i would on no account return home vanquished. i tried to infect the two others with my enthusiasm, and depicted our camel ride as a fairy tale and a romance. now two of hlaje tsering's men presented themselves, bringing a dish of rice and a lump of butter as a present from their master. the secretary lama sent an apron full of rice. in return i sent muhamed isa with a whole piece of _pashmina_ cloth and a knife from srinagar for the governor, and a similar knife and a turban bandage for the secretary. i returned the visit about three o'clock, accompanied by robert and muhamed isa. hlaje tsering's tent was large and handsomely fitted up, and all his secretaries and servants were sitting round the fire, which blazed up towards the upper opening. at the sides lay sacks of rice and _tsamba_, and several whole slaughtered sheep; everything showed that the old man was prepared for a long stay. guns with rests and pennants, sabres and lances, harness, bridles, saddles and saddle-cloths, lent a picturesque and warlike aspect to this chieftain's tent. along the shorter side, opposite the entrance, thick cushions were piled up, and covered with small lhasa rugs, and round cushions laid upon them served as supports for the back. i was invited to take my seat there beside hlaje tsering; a small red lacquered table was placed in front of us. on our right stood an altar shrine with gilded images of gods and _gaos_, small silver cases with figures of buddha, which on a journey are suspended by a red strap from the shoulder. and before them flickered a wick, fed with butter, in a bright brass bowl. a servant brought cups of chinese porcelain on copper saucers and with silver covers. another poured out of a picturesque tea-pot the thick tea mixed with butter which the tibetans are so fond of, and which i now drank apparently with pleasure, though to me it tasted horrible--but hlaje tsering had lately praised my english tea. the conversation was carried on calmly and agreeably as in my tent. but the negotiations made no progress, but rather the contrary, for hlaje tsering now said: "i can on no account let you go to the dangra-yum-tso; the lake is holy, and, besides, watchmen have already been posted there." "the road to the east is also barred?" "yes, the country is entirely closed to you on the south, west, and east, and i cannot, as i now perceive, send you back to the north." "am i, then, to travel through the air, or sink down to the lower regions?" "no, but you must wait here." "and you will send my letter to gyangtse?" "no, i will not do that, but i will not prevent you from sending two of your men on your own responsibility." "will you sell me some horses for them?" "no; then it would be said that we were in the same boat, and that i had allowed myself to be bribed." "you are a fine governor, hlaje tsering; you cannot even sell me a couple of horses. i shall consequently have to send my men on foot, and they will take twice as long." "well, i will sleep on it, and let you know my decision in the morning." rub das and tundup galzan received their instructions in the evening. they were to take a letter to major o'connor in gyangtse, and a sum of money was given them, which was sewed up in their girdles for safe keeping. they were to start on their adventurous journey the following evening as soon as it became dark. chapter xx onwards through the forbidden land january . again this ominous number, which is regarded by so many people as unlucky, and is surrounded by a cloud of superstition! would the th be unfortunate for us also? the sun had scarcely risen when hlaje tsering sent to announce a visit. accompanied by his private secretary, the lama lobsang shunten, and all the rest of his retinue, his excellence the governor of naktsang came to my tent on foot. they took their seats on the cushions, and hlaje tsering opened the conversation with the following remarkable declaration: "hedin sahib, we have, neither of us, time to stay here for weeks and months, waiting for an answer from gyangtse. i cannot help you in your correspondence with gyangtse. i have thoroughly considered the situation, and have discussed it with my secretaries, who, like myself, are responsible to the devashung. we are of the opinion that all you can do is to pass southwards into the territory of the labrang (tashi-lunpo). i beg you to set out the day after to-morrow." what did this most unexpected change of front mean? yesterday i was not to be allowed to take a single step southwards, and to-day i was requested to start as soon as possible to the forbidden land. had hlaje tsering received secret orders from lhasa? had he been informed that the tashi lama was really expecting me? he said nothing on the subject, and i cautiously refrained from asking him. or were we the victims of a ruse, and when we had been induced to travel with all speed to gyangtse, should we be compelled to return thence to india through darjiling? for there the devashung could appeal to the terms of the treaty, in which it is emphatically stipulated that only those who are in possession of a passport from lhasa have a right to travel about the country, and so my journey would be speedily ended. might it not be better to make for the unknown country west of the dangra-yum-tso, which after all was the main object of my journey? hlaje tsering's change of front was so absolutely at variance with my former experiences in tibet, that i had some misgivings, and wondered whether i was about to fall into the jaws of the english, chinese, and tibetan authorities, and should shortly be delivered unconditionally into their hands. but this opportunity must on no account be lost. between the ngangtse-tso and shigatse stretches the eastern part of the great white patch north of the tsangpo, which no european, no pundit, has trod, the land of which not even hazy and uncertain reports at second-hand have ever found their way into geographical text-books. even if i had an opportunity of making only a single traverse over it, my labour would not be in vain. nain sing has two rivers on his map, which flow east and north-east to the kyaring-tso, and their upper courses he places in the country south of the ngangtse-tso. at present i knew nothing of them, but i should learn everything if i accepted hlaje tsering's proposal. but i had already perceived that the mountains on the south side of the lake were quite fanciful and arbitrary as inserted in nain sing's map. at any rate, i must not now betray my satisfaction, so i answered very calmly and thoughtfully: "well, i will march southwards the day after to-morrow if you will provide me with horses by then." "i have sent men into all the valleys in the neighbourhood with orders that all the available horses are to be brought here. two roads lead from here to shigatse. if you travel by the west side of the lake you will be in four days in the territory of the labrang, but by the east side you will reach it in two days. you may choose yourself which way you will take, but i shall be better pleased if you decide on the eastern, for with me the main thing is that you should clear out of my province as quickly as possible." "no, i will fix on the western road, that i may be able to make an excursion to the dangra-yum-tso; for i wish to see the lake, and also i must go there because i have given it as my postal address, and the messenger of the tashi lama is awaiting me there." this was a very undiplomatic utterance. i ought to have avoided disclosing my plans. hlaje tsering bristled up at once and exclaimed: "to the dangra-yum-tso? never! the lake is holy; the mountain targo-gangri on its southern shore is holy, and there lies the great monastery sershik-gompa, in which influential intriguing monks dwell. your visit to the lake would lead to complications. no, if such is your intention, i will leave only one road open to you, namely, that along the eastern side of the ngangtse-tso. i cannot and will not compel you, but i implore you to give me your word of honour that you will not go to the dangra-yum-tso." thus i lost the holy lake a second time; but i gave my word of honour, that i might not lose the important route still open to me. my premature candour vexed me at the time, but i was soon to have reason to be thankful for it. had i gained an opportunity of visiting the holy lake at this time, i should certainly have been arrested on its shore; but that is another story which will be related in a later chapter. "tell me, hlaje tsering, do you think that i shall be stopped in the territory of the labrang?" "as you have not been arrested here, in naktsang, probably you will not be there. i do not know how i shall get on, but i have been governor for seven years, and my term of office expires in five months, so it is of no consequence if i lose my post. the devashung has plundered me so thoroughly that i have few cattle and little other property left. now, for instance, i am travelling in my province at the expense of the people; the nomads have to provide me with baggage animals and provisions for the whole time." "the devashung must be a nice institution. how glad you must be that your time of service will soon expire." "yes, but i must settle down in some place where i can live cheaply." "does the devashung know that i am here?" "i have not heard anything from it up to the present, but i despatched another report on your affairs yesterday by express messenger. how they will treat you i do not know; i have gone as far as i could for old friendship's sake." after that we again paid him a return visit. some of hlaje tsering's men had seen us engaged in rearranging our baggage, and this caused him to ask me if he could have an empty chest. four of the best were given him, and also all kinds of other superfluous articles. [illustration: . servants of hlaje tsering.] [illustration: . messenger with letters from home, and his travelling companion.] [illustration: . hlaje tsering setting out.] january was a memorable day in our chronicles, and the th was to bring with it still more wonderful incidents. our life during the past months had passed rather monotonously, but now the facts of our daily experience were stranger than fiction. the alt-azimuth had been placed on its tripod near my tent, and i had the chronometer, an aneroid, and a thermometer close at hand. there i stood for fully three hours, observing the phases of the eclipse of the sun. about nine-tenths of the sun's disc were obscured. shortly before the maximum the temperature of the air was . °, and soon after the maximum . °. the violet line of the thermograph fell sharply, and a slight breeze swept along the earth's surface. some tibetans had betaken themselves to muhamed isa's tent to sell us horses, but when the singular darkness fell, they shook their heads and returned to their tents. the ladakis are outside, sitting at their fire and murmuring prayers. the ravens are quiet and do not move. an eagle circles with heavy pinions close above the ground. our sheep come in of their own accord from the pastures, just as they are wont to do in the evening, and yet the vanishing sun stands at its mid-day altitude. the puppies break off their play, creep timidly into the tent, and lie down on my bed. only the horses graze on and display no surprise that the day is so short. all is strangely still and quiet. but then the small sickle of the sun, which has not been extinguished in interstellar space, increases again. it becomes lighter, and the shadows that have just before shown a double outline, become sharp again. the sheep stand a moment irresolute and then go slowly back to the pasture. the dogs return to their play, and the tibetans, one after another, peep out of their tent doors. the ravens shake themselves and fly off croaking to a hill. the prayers of the ladakis are heard no more, and the eagle is borne aloft by swishing beats of his wings to the sun, which again shines out in all its splendour. then old karpun came to visit us, and was given some tea, tobacco, and a piece of cloth. "does the bombo chimbo remember that i tried to detain him five and a half years ago with a large levy?" "yes, on the north shore of the selling-tso (zilling-tso). i gave you a great deal of trouble then, and you could not induce me to stay." "the trouble is all forgotten, and i am very glad to see you again in good health and brisk." "we did not expect then that we should meet again. you, too, are looking well. but tell me why you are come just now." "i have brought a message to the governor from shansa-dzong. the officials remaining there have ordered me to call out the people. now all the militia must stand under arms to----" "you surely do not intend to detain me again?" "by no means. but news is come from the black tents on the middle course of the bogtsang-tsangpo that a large band of robbers has pillaged ten tents and driven off all the owners' cattle and all the flocks of sheep." "when?" "a few days ago." "then we may thank our stars that we did not fall into their hands, for we passed along the middle course of the bogtsang-tsangpo for five days, and we have a large quantity of silver money in our boxes." "the bombo chimbo is a friend of the gods. no harm can befall you." "in which direction have the robbers retired with their booty?" "they are still in the territory of naktsang. we shall pursue them, catch them, and cut off their heads." then i visited hlaje tsering with the corner pillars of my caravan. he sat at his lacquered table drinking tea, and had his long chinese pipe in his mouth. "why is it that it has just been so dark?" i asked him. "the gods of the dangra-yum-tso are angry because you will not allow me to visit their lake." "no, certainly not. a big dog roams about the sky and often conceals the sun. but i and the lama lobsang have prayed all the time before the altar, and have burned joss-sticks before the images of the gods. you have nothing to fear; the dog has passed on." "very fine," i cried, and made a desperate attempt to explain the phenomenon. robert held up his saucer to represent the sun, and i took two rupees to represent the earth and moon crossing each other's orbit. hlaje tsering listened attentively to muhamed isa's translation of my demonstration, nodded approvingly, and finally expressed his opinion that all this might do very well for us, but that it did not suit tibet. at this moment the flap of the tent was thrown back, and rabsang entered panting and calling out to me: "the post is here!" muhamed isa and robert jumped up as though there were fire under their feet, and exclaimed, "we must be off." i sat quite still, and thrust my feet against the ground so as not to show that i was trembling with excitement. was it possible? letters from home, from india, from gyangtse, and perhaps from the tashi lama! "who has brought the mail?" i asked, as if nothing had happened. "a man from shigatse, accompanied by two others," answered rabsang. "where is he? let him bring the mail-bag." "we have already told him to come, but he replies that he has strict orders to hand over the letters to the sahib himself in his own tent. he refuses to do so in the tent of the governor." "what is the matter?" asked hlaje tsering, astonished at the general commotion. "i have news from the tashi lama," i returned very coolly. it was now hlaje tsering's turn to look disconcerted. the news made a very deep impression on him. he quickly gave an order, two men hurried out and returned with a confirmation of my statement. then he gave me a friendly clap on the shoulder and said, smiling: "hedin sahib, this news is of much greater importance to me than to you. it is of no consequence what kind of tidings you receive, but the arrival of the post from the tashi lama is, in itself, a proof that his holiness is actually expecting you, that labrang is open to you, and that i acted rightly when i told you that you might continue your journey. if i had not already granted you permission yesterday, i should do so now." "i have always said that i should receive my letters from the tashi lama." "that is true; but now i have for the first time tangible proof, now i am perfectly satisfied, and do not intend even to wait for your departure. i shall travel back to shansa-dzong the day after to-morrow." now i could no longer curb my impatience. i took leave and hurried to my tent, whither the post-messenger was summoned. he was a young powerful tibetan, a servant of kung gushuk, one of the highest officials in shigatse, and younger brother of the tashi lama. lieutenant bailey, who had taken the place of major o'connor, absent on furlough, had, according to orders from india, sent the carefully packed post-box to the tashi lama with a request that he would forward it to me. the forbidden dangra-yum-tso appeared in the tibetan address also. by command of the tashi lama the man was furnished with an open passport from the labrang, the vatican of tashi-lunpo, which empowered him to demand horses and provisions along the route. the men with him were the nomads who had last supplied him with horses at the dangra-yum-tso, and now that they were sure of tips would not leave him. he had taken eighteen days to travel to the holy lake, and had looked for us there for three days, when he heard by chance that we were encamped on the ngangtse-tso. then he had hastened to us in order to execute his commission. but why was he so late? i had arranged for november . yes, but kung gushuk had let the box lie for forty days, and kung gushuk is a blockhead. but this was a piece of good luck. had kung gushuk done his duty, the post would have arrived at the right time, while i only reached the place agreed upon at the end of december. a higher providence had overruled the whole affair, and everything turned out well (illustration ). now the box was broken open. what excitement! it contained packets of letters from my home, from the government house in calcutta, from colonel dunlop smith, and many other friends. i first ascertained from the last letter that all were well at home, and then read all the letters in chronological order with the most eager interest. the letters were the more welcome that they contained nothing but good news. i received a quantity of swedish newspapers; they were old as the hills, but i should now have no lack of reading on my way to shigatse. the caravan did not see much of me that evening. i lay on my bed engaged in reading, and made my men heat the tent well. the ladakis, too, were merry, kindled a large fire, danced and sang. i was invited to go and look on at their merry-making for a moment, and availed myself of the opportunity to make a short speech, in which i told them that they had all served me well and faithfully, and that hitherto we had met with good fortune. now the road to tashi-lunpo was open to us, and they would attain their wish of making a pilgrimage to the holy town. there they would rest after their exertions. then i returned to my letters, and read on till the day dawned in the east, till long after the brazier had grown cold, and there were degrees of frost in my tent. but i was well wrapped up in furs and did not feel the cold. near my tent a troop of wolves made such a noise that tsering had to go out and silence them with a few shots. on the th i still lay down and read. on the th hlaje tsering paid me his farewell visit. we talked very pleasantly together, joked, and wondered whether fate would ever bring us together again. then i attended him to his horse, which was snowy white, had a crimson saddle-cloth, and was bedecked with ornaments of shining brass and a chest-cloth with jingling bells. he mounted into the saddle, gave me both his hands at parting, and disappeared with his small retinue behind the hills. then i again went back to my letters, but i felt a dull void now that the amiable governor of naktsang was gone (illustration ). january . what did it matter if the day were gloomy, if freshly fallen snow veiled the surrounding mountains, and heavy greyish-blue clouds rolled over the lake as though to hide it from our sight at the moment of our departure? to us everything seemed bright, cheerful, and smiling. a powerful governor had come to prevent us from travelling further, and yet the route to the south was as free to us as the uninhabited chang-tang had lately been. but now we were much better off. we should pass black tents daily, be able to buy all we wanted, and have no cause for alarm because we had provisions for only five days longer. we enjoyed unlimited freedom, and had not a single man with us as escort or watchman. before us lay a country which might be said to be the most interesting in the world from a geographical point of view, and in which every day's journey might lead to discoveries of the highest importance. what did we care if the air was raw and cold? spring must come sometime. we could count on warmer weather for three reasons: we were advancing to more southern climes, we should soon reach districts at a lower level, and the spring was daily approaching. and for three reasons the ngangtse-tso would ever be memorable in the diary of my reminiscences: there freedom of movement had been unexpectedly accorded to us, there connection with the outer world had been again established, and there i had an opportunity of determining the depth of the lake by a complete series of soundings, and of drawing its contours in a map. we had obtained three new horses fairly cheaply, on which robert, muhamed isa, and tsering rode, while i kept to my small ladak white. accompanied by the post-messenger and his two comrades, we rode in a south-easterly direction down to the lake, and along the eastern shore to the southern part, where we bivouacked near two black tents. kiangs and wolves were frequently seen. a kiang had been torn in pieces by the wolves, and the white puppy and the pobrang dog remained by the body to enjoy a good feast. we were terribly starved during the long march of . miles, and in the night the thermometer marked . degrees of frost, the worst cold of the whole winter. the next day's march took us up a transverse valley of the mountains which rise on the south shore of the ngangtse-tso. it was rather narrow, and a small source murmured under its covering of ice. we followed a plainly marked path, leaving a couple of tents behind us, and passed sheepfolds, grassy plots, and dark spots where tame yaks had lain and worn off the grass; everything was black, the tents, the tibetans, the half-naked children, and the dogs. at length the gully turned westwards; just at the bend was a waterfall congealed into milky white ice. far up the valley we encamped on a plateau, where we had a very interesting view to the north-east. we could see almost the whole of the lake which nain sing left at some distance to the south of his route, and which he called daru-tso. i cannot dispute its correctness, but none of the tibetans whom i questioned had ever heard this name for the lake; they called it marchar-tso, and it now figures in my map under this name. it often happens that a lake has different names among different nomad tribes. in camp no. it lay just below us as on a map; its form is not so simple as on nain sing's map, but abounds in peninsulas and bays, and it is extremely narrow in the middle. the isthmus between the ngangtse-tso and the marchar-tso is only a few miles broad; at the highest point the old shore terraces of the two lakes touch one another. at the time when the water stood higher the two lakes were therefore connected. the marchar-tso is said to be as salt as its neighbour, but its ice was smooth and blue, and we saw no fields of free salt on its surface. we had seen nothing of the white puppy and the pobrang dog after we had left them behind, so i sent the hajji back to the lake. but he came back without having found any sign of them. we never saw them again, and i sorely missed the white puppy, who had been a faithful friend in the tent and on the march. either they had had a fight with wolves and got the worst of it, or they had lost our track and had been adopted by nomads. the former was the more probable, for the hajji when he came to the lake saw a troop of wolves careering over the ice. on the th we surmounted the neighbouring pass, the chapka-la ( , feet), on which a stone pyramid is erected in honour of the gods. as a watershed it is only of secondary importance, for the water from both sides flows to the ngangtse-tso. the valley leading down makes a curve to the south; in the lamblung valley we had eleven tents as neighbours, and were able to provide ourselves with all we needed for several days. the country was still in the naktsang territory, but the nomads were subjects of the labrang, and paid their taxes to tashi-lunpo. we remained here two days, which we ought not to have done, and we would not if i had properly considered the matter. it was not the furious snowstorm which caused us to waste forty-eight hours, but ngurbu tundup, the postman. i had intended to keep him with us as long as possible, for it would evidently be an advantage to us, and would increase our dignity, to have with us a servant of one of the highest officials of shigatse. he was our living passport; if he were not with us, we might perhaps again be regarded as freebooters, and be ordered to stop by some despotic chief. but ngurbu tundup was deaf to our entreaties, and declared that he had strict orders to return immediately his task was accomplished, and give in his report. he had already disobeyed his orders and had lost several days, but he consented to remain with us if we would rest in the lamblung valley. i had great need of the time to get all my huge correspondence ready. on january i wrote for sixteen hours, and by noon of the st the mail was ready and packed up. ngurbu received a present of rupees for his excellent service, and if he handed over the packet of letters to the british commercial agent in gyangtse he was to receive further especial reward, when we met again at shigatse. but he was to make all speed, changing his horse several times a day. if he loitered and covered only miles a day, that is, reaching gyangtse in ten days, he was to expect only rupees. if he completed the journey in nine days, he was to receive , and if he accomplished his task in eight days, i would give him rupees, and so on, at the rate of rupees for every day saved. he actually arrived in eight days. i really committed a blunder in making this arrangement, for i gave notice of our approach to the south, and it might have happened that the tibetans might have conceived evil designs against us. nay, had the chinese received news of our march, we should most certainly have been very soon stopped. when ngurbu had ridden off over the hills, we were again cut off from contact with the outer world, and were left to ourselves. the following morning we ascended eastwards along the valley in which we had encamped, and where some _mani_ cists stand, the longest of which measures feet, and is covered with slabs of sandstone bearing the holy formula in incised letters. continual snowstorms and huge masses of cloud with or without snow--that was the characteristic weather in january. the pongchen-la ( , feet) is a low threshold, like the preceding of secondary importance. on its summit stands a votive stone heap, with a bundle of rods, on which pennants, cloth rags, and ribands flutter. smaller cairns radiate out from it. here we had a last glimpse of our dear old ngangtse-tso, and to the north-east a valley ran down to the marchar-tso. to the south-east rose a dark range with several snowy peaks, which is called pabla. the valley we traversed is broad and open, and is enclosed in low mountains. we saw no tents all the day, but numerous traces of summer encampments. namgyal, however, who is a quick intelligent man, spied out two tents in the neighbourhood of our camp no. , which was pitched in a district called namachang, and there bought some sheep, parched meal, barley, milk, and sour milk. he also brought a young tibetan with him, who was good-looking, honest, and gentle, and did all we asked him willingly and pleasantly. his accent was so soft and refined that it was a pleasure to hear him speak. he gave me a quantity of credible information and promised to accompany us a day's journey. it snowed so thickly all night and the following day that i frequently could not see rabsang, who marched with the tibetan guide just in front of my horse. the snow enveloped us, whirled about us, and piled itself into small drifts on the sheltered side of every stone, grassy hillock, and hollow. the valley slopes gently to the south-east, and its frozen river is called buser-tsangpo, and is a tributary of the tagrak-tsangpo, which debouches into the south-western corner of the ngangtse-tso. we are therefore still in the basin, of which the lake occupies the lowest part, and of which the border on the north-west and east lies close to the lake, but on the south is removed many days' journey from it. the camping-ground this day is called kapchor; eastwards extends an open longitudinal valley, through which runs the road to shansa-dzong; on the north side also of the ngangtse-tso and marchar-tso a road runs thither, and by this hlaje tsering had reached our camp in twelve days. this road is known from nain sing's journey in - . on the morning of the th we were nearly blinded on going out of our tents, so brilliant was the reflexion from the thousands of small facets of the snow crystals which had spread their white cloak over hill and valley in a thick continuous sheet. the sky was clear, and blue as the purest turquoise from nishapur, but the wind swept bitterly cold over the snowfields a night old. our route ran south-eastwards to the exit of the narrow valley where the tagrak-tsangpo, now frozen to the bottom, rested mute and motionless in the arms of winter. we followed the river, the largest watercourse that we had seen since the chang-chenmo, upwards. at some places small nomad communities had their winter pastures, and there large herds of yaks and flocks of sheep roamed over the slopes. the name of the valley is kayi-rung, of the spot where camp was pitched kayi-pangbuk, and of the district tova-tova. nain sing's dobo dobá cho, from which he brings the river para-tsangpo to the kyaring-tso, was not known to the inhabitants. the pundit makes the water drain eastwards, but as a matter of fact it runs westwards and north-westwards to the ngangtse-tso. this is due to his not having been here himself, for the statements of the natives are usually very unreliable. immediately beyond the camp we crossed on the th a small saddle, where we obtained an instructive insight into the lie of the land. the eyes swept unhindered over all the wide plain, with the three streams forming the tagrak-tsangpo meandering over the level ground in capricious curves and bends like silver ribands in the brown and grey country. close to us on the south-east is the kesar-tsangpo, which receives the naong-tsangpo at the foot of our gap, and then cutting through our mountain begins its course in the kayi-rung valley. farther off to the north-east the naong-tsangpo has already absorbed the waters of the kung-tsangpo, and with them makes its way to the kayi-rung valley and the ngangtse-tso. the great plain is enclosed by moderately high, rounded mountains and hills. after crossing the kesar-tsangpo we follow the right bank, upwards as far as toa-nadsum, where we bivouac. a quadrangular wall of earth marks the spot where the _bombo_, or chief of the district, usually erects his tent; now he is in tashi-lunpo to pay his tax. in the adjoining valleys there are at the present time twenty-two tents, but only four near our camp, and in these beggars are wintering in great poverty. the country is said to be noted for its cold, raw climate even in summer. it rains in june and july, but the fall varies very much from year to year. if it rains hard for a long time, all the rivers swell, draining water from a thousand valleys, and the tagrak-tsangpo is then sometimes unfordable. when we started on the following day in a twilight caused by heavy clouds, the poor natives came up holding out their hands for _tsamba_ or money, and each received a coin. our way ran to the east-south-east, to the naong-rung valley, traversed by the naong-tsangpo, now frozen to the bottom. we now ascended gradually, and at camp no. found ourselves at a height of , feet. two large black nomad dogs fell in love with the brown puppy, and followed us as though they belonged to the family. one limped, having at some time hurt his leg; he was old and shaggy, and was received with stones and abuse. yet he clung to us faithfully, and put up with hard words from the men and the offal from slaughtered sheep. he was at last admitted a member of our travelling company, and hobbled, with drooping head and tongue hanging out, over lofty passes and through deep valleys, and answered to the name of "cripple." as he was old he often lagged behind, but in spite of his slow pace he always turned up and took his place before muhamed isa's tent. he was the grand dog of our tent court, and was much concerned about us when danger threatened. naturally he became a friend of us all, was allowed to eat as much as he liked, and acquired a position in the caravan. then we would gladly have forgotten we had had the heart to beat him, and to greet him with stones and whips--he, our cripple, who had come to us of his own accord to defend us and guard our tents, only asking free board in exchange; for free lodging of course he had under the everlasting stars in great desolate winterly cold tibet. chapter xxi over the trans-himalaya january . storm as usual. we march in a south-easterly direction, guided by the river system of the tagrak-tsangpo, which branches off into smaller and smaller ramifications, and no one interferes with us or takes the slightest notice of our advance. from a small pass we look down on the two tributaries of the naong-tsangpo, the pupchung-tsangpo, and the kelung-tsangpo, and follow the latter. it conducts us to a second saddle with a stone cairn and prayer streamers; from a pole in the middle strings radiate out to the four cardinal points, bearing rags and ribands, and fastened to the ground by small stones. from a third watershed of secondary rank the guide points out a pass of the first order in the pabla mountains which we shall cross to-morrow. we now find ourselves in a high alpine region without herbage; only moss grows among the pebbles. camp no. is pitched in the valley of the pupchung-tsangpo. the brook descends from the pupchung-ri, a part of the main crest. to the south-east we see the two mountains tormakaru and sangra covered with snow. here nomads never encamp, for the elevation is too great. only when officials from tashi-lunpo travel here on duty are the nomads living nearest obliged to set up tents for them. [illustration: . three tibetans saluting.] the wind sank in the evening, and the sound of the flutes echoed clearly and sweetly in the valley. the moon rose high, and poured down its light over the peaceful wondrous land. the night advanced cold and silent, and the thermometer fell to - °. at such a temperature there is no need of draughts through the chinks to cool the sleeping-tent. the cold wakes me up, and i have to wrap myself more closely in my blankets. january was a great day in our records. we knew that we had a trying way before us, and therefore we made an early start. the horse that bore the number on the label attached to his mane lay before my tent frozen hard, with his legs stretched out; he had served us faithfully for nearly half a year. seven horses and a mule were left. they carried nothing but the cloths that protected them from cold in the night. the new tibetan horses were in splendid condition: they were fat and sleek compared to our old horses, which had passed through the winter on the chang-tang. even at ten o'clock the wind is icy cold, and not the smallest cloud floats over the earth. dull weather is much better if the air be still. now the sun looks down sneeringly on our sufferings and makes no attempt to lighten them. we march towards the east-south-east, over an endless, slightly undulating plain, where the ground consists of troublesome moss-grown stones and sharp débris. on our right is the sangra peak and other parts of the pabla crest, whence short transverse valleys descend, and are continued over the plain in insignificant furrows of erosion. to the left the land is undulating, where the affluents of the naong-tsangpo wind among softly rounded hills. higher hills and ridges, lying to the north of the right bank of the naong-tsangpo, intercept the view in this direction. so we mount slowly up till a deeply eroded valley suddenly and unexpectedly appears on the right side of our route. it is not included in the ngangtse-tso basin. i am about to leave the isolated hydrographic region, and puzzle my head about the surprises that await me. the valley is called sangra-palhe, runs south-eastwards, and receives the southern transverse valleys of the pabla, which are just as deeply excavated. to the south-east we see the dark extremity of a spur of the pabla, round which the great main valley and its stream bend towards the south and pass on--but whither? on this point the guide could give us no information; we were to find out later. farther on we reach a valley running in a northerly direction, and therefore connected with the naong-tsangpo. northwards the country slopes gently, but steeply, to the south, and we ascend to the low pass forming the watershed. immediately beyond the hill sereding we march up a steep ascent towards the conical mountain serpo-tsunge, which we afterwards leave close on the right of our road. from its western and eastern sides, and also from the gap where we now stand, a number of deep erosion valleys run down to the sangra-palhe. to the left of our route a valley, which still belongs to the system of the naong-tsangpo, slopes to the north-west. we are therefore on the water-parting ridge. the serpo-tsunge is a geographical boundary pillar, and marks where the domain of the ngangtse-tso ends. the whole configuration is singularly complicated. here we left one of our yaks, which could not be induced by coaxing or scolding to move a step farther, but lowered his horns and rushed at those who attempted to drive him on. he was abandoned, the second animal of his kind. he had here abundance of yak-moss, snow, and fresh air, and would probably fall into the hands of the nomads some time or other. a little higher and we stood on the very summit of the pass, marked by a pole with streamers, which flap and flutter in the wind. it was quite time that we made a small fire, for we were half dead with cold. it was not easy to make the hypsometer boil. robert sat on the ground and improvised a tent round the instrument with furs and a rug, while i lay on my stomach on the lee side and read the thermometer through a small opening. the temperature was °, with a west-south-west wind no. , that is, half a gale. the valley leading down, the sele-nang, lay now, at mid-day, in dark shadow. through its opening appeared a vast sea of rigid mountainous undulations, steep cliffs, and deep valleys, no level stretches, no vegetation, only a labyrinth of mountains, a much bolder, more marked, and wilder relief than we had seen in chang-tang. the nearer parts of the pabla ridge intercepted the view to the west. the pass, where we now were, is called the sela-la, and attains the great height of , feet above sea-level. i perceived clearly that it must be situated in the main chain, which, farther east, bears the well-known peak nien-chang-tang-la on the south shore of the nam-tso or tengri-nor, and has been crossed by a few europeans and pundits. it is one of the greatest and grandest watersheds of the world, for from its northern flank the water flows down to the undrained lakes of the plateau, and from its southern flank to the indian ocean. the course of this watershed and the configuration of the mountain system crossed by our route between the ngangtse-tso and yeshung on the tsangpo was till this january of as unknown to geographers of european race as the side of the moon turned away from the earth. on the other hand, the seas and mountains seen in the full moon have been known from ancient times much better than the region of the earth's surface whither it is my good fortune to be able to conduct my readers. i venture to describe this geographical problem that i have succeeded in solving as one of the finest, perhaps the most striking, of all problems connected with the surface of our earth that awaited solution. but on the sela-la we crossed the immense watershed only at a single point. i will not anticipate events. we must first muster our acquisitions in order, and then we will draw our conclusions from the material collected. and now we will continue our arduous passage through the unknown world of mountains which still separates us from the great river. after i had hastily sketched the panorama with hands turned blue with cold, inserting the names the guide was able to give me, we hurried down the slopes of detritus, partially covered with snow, on the south side of the pass. in the valley bottom, with its patches of ice, we mounted our horses again, and met three mounted tibetans driving before them eight loose horses. as soon as they caught sight of us they turned aside and made a great detour to avoid us. we supposed that they belonged to a band of robbers, who wished to escape with their booty by untrodden paths. it was delightful this evening to sit at length in the warmth of the camp-fire. in silent meditation my eyes swept from the rocky crests, brightly lighted by the moon, down to the dark shadowy depths of the valley, where there were only wolves crouching in their holes. it seemed as though all belonged to me; as though i had marched into this land a conqueror at the head of victorious legions, and had crushed all opposition. oh, what splendid legions! five-and-twenty ragged fellows from ladak, ten lean jades, and about twenty worn-out yaks. and yet i had succeeded! marius could not have been prouder of the triumphs he achieved in the war against jugurtha than i was when i had won my first victory over the "trans-himalaya" at the sela-la, that sela-la which, now bathed in moonlight, seemed to us the extreme outpost on the limits of boundless space. our march on january was pleasant. we were sheltered from the wind in the deep valley, travelled towards the sun, and felt the first touch of the approaching spring. we rode at first towards the east-south-east, but gradually made a curve round to the south. just at the bend the valley tumsang runs in, and in the background we again caught a glimpse of a part of the great range we crossed at the sela-la. innumerable valleys such as ours must descend from the crest more or less parallel to it. the valley becomes broader, and the ice strip of the sele-nang winds along the middle. we see no tents, but places where they are pitched in summer, and some _manis_ are erected for the edification of travellers. camp no. is pitched in an expansion of the valley called selin-do. during the past days we had often remarked how desirable it would be if we could hire some yaks from the nomads. our own were exhausted and kept us back, and in the high country with its abundant detritus, where we were now travelling, their hoofs became sorer every day. as long as the land lay open before us we must make all haste we could. delay might be dangerous, but the yaks marched as though they had a log at their heels. we saw no tents in selin-do, but namgyal came in the evening with two tibetans he had met in a side valley. they were willing to provide us with yaks, if they were paid a _tenga_ (about ½ d.) for every day's march, and they reckoned eight days' march for the journey to yeshung on the tsangpo. they would accompany us themselves only for one day, and insisted that other men should take their place when they turned back. we could not do any better; we should spare our own animals, make longer marches, and obtain good guides as well. in the evening we received a visit from seven well-armed riders in search of a band of robbers who had stolen several horses from them. we informed them of the party we had met the day before and they rode off, thanking us warmly, up the valley. january . in the morning our new friends turned up with the yaks; when all was in order we found that we possessed only eighteen loads of the heavy baggage with which we set out from leh. our last two guides were paid, and immediately set out for the sela-la. immediately below camp no. the selin-do valley unites with the porung valley, along which we again ascended to the south-east. i was surprised that our guides tramped up to higher ground again, but they followed a plainly marked path, while the valley that we left on the right seemed to slope down to the west-south-west and south-west. they said that it debouched into the valley of the my-tsangpo, a northern tributary of the yere-tsangpo (the upper brahmaputra). i had afterwards an opportunity of ascertaining that their statements were correct. but now, on first crossing the country, the arrangement of the mountain ranges and watercourses was ill-defined and confusing to me. at every camp i interrogated tibetans who seemed reliable, and made them draw small maps with their fingers in the sand, which i copied into my diary. but the map changed every day, even if the chief lines remained the same. from the point where we began to ascend again a desolate chaos of mountains is visible towards the south-west. on the right bank of the porung several warm springs well up from the pebble bed, containing sulphurous water at a temperature of . ° and filling basins in which the hot steaming water simmers and bubbles. the place is called simply tsaka-chusen, or "the hot salt water." the terraces of the valley indicate powerful erosive action. side valleys run in on both sides; sometimes we cross the frozen stream, sometimes pass over steep mountain spurs. at a bend in the way we meet a party of armed riders who are on the way to chokchu, a country west of the dangra-yum-tso. we come to an expansion in the valley, a very important spot, for here several valleys converge to a gigantic focus of erosion in this sea of wild mountains. the largest is the terkung-rung, which, joined by a whole series of side valleys, descends from the main crest of the pabla in the north-east. the track through the valley passes several large summer pastures. i made a long halt on a broad rocky projection with a _mani_ to get my bearings in this extremely interesting country. here, too, we met a mounted party, which was in pursuit of a freebooter who had eloped with another man's wife--just as with us. the injured husband was in the party and looked very furious. then we met a caravan of yaks laden with great bales of chinese brick tea from lhasa, which they were carrying to the chokchu province. a dozen dark bare-footed men followed the animals, singing and whistling, spinning woollen thread with the help of vertical rotating spools, or engaged with their prayer mills. they hired their yaks, and were to exchange them for fresh animals at selin-do. they had also sheep with them, carrying small loads of barley. the farther we advanced the more lively became the traffic. small footpaths from the side valleys join our road, which is now broad and shows signs of considerable traffic. all our guides tell us that this is the great highway to shigatse, and is also a section of the main road connecting chokchu with the capital of the country. the road is a collection of parallel footpaths, and where it crosses slopes and steep declivities appears like stripes on the ground. we continue our ascent in a south-south-easterly direction, and find ourselves about feet above the valley bottom, which is occupied by a huge ice-belt of uniform breadth resembling a great river; we could fancy ourselves transplanted to the indus valley in its winter dress as seen from saspul. but the resemblance is only apparent, for after we have passed some rather large side valleys we reach the abundant springs of mense-tsaka with warm freshwater at a temperature of °, which farther down forms pools where small fishes dart about among slimy weeds. the water gradually cools down and forms ice, and runs down over it farther and farther until, as now in the end of january, it has filled the whole valley bottom from the foot of one flank to the other. from the great meeting-place of the valleys we have passed four _manis_, in general not more than feet long, but covered with unusually well-dressed slabs of red, white, or green sandstone and slate. on the former, the letters in the weathered crust stand out bright red against the chiselled intervals with their white surface. we are tempted to take away some specimens, but we shall probably have later opportunities of committing sacrilege. in front of us stands the trough up to the pass; surrounded by the concave crest, where the caravan is seen on the top, the pass seems unpleasantly steep. above the valleys shib-la-yilung and chugge-lung the ascent is difficult, and the horses often pause on the slopes of detritus. at last, however, we are up at the votive cairn with its streamer pole amongst smaller pyramids of stones. this is the shib-la, which has a height of , feet. the view is magnificent and is free on almost all sides, for no summits in the foreground obstruct it. down in the valleys we were sheltered from the wind, but up on the summit it sweeps unhindered over the agitated sea of crests. the guide points south-westwards to the next pass we have to cross. between it and the shib-la stretches a deep boldly eroded ravine, sloping to the west-south-west. its river, or rather its ice-belt, unites with all the watercourses we have crossed this day--with all, indeed, that we have met with since the sela-la. we have therefore crossed a number of tributaries, but the main stream, which receives them all, lies to the west of our route and is not visible from any point. it is the river called my-chu, my-tsangpo, or my-chu-tsangpo. we had still a fairly long march to the camp. it grew dusk. we descended the steep slope on foot, stumbling over the rubbish and the mouse-holes. darkness came on, but a white streak was seen in the valley, the ice of the river. the light of the camp-fire looked tempting in the cold and darkness. but nothing is so deceptive as a blaze of light in the darkness; you go on and on, but the fire seems no larger. at last, however, tired and starved, we arrived at the camp and sat as close as possible to the glowing _argol_, and the conversation with muhamed isa began--cheerful and animated, as usual. four of our spare yaks were thoroughly exhausted and must have a day's rest. had i known what was coming behind in our track, i would have left them and hurried off next morning. but we knew nothing, and spent the last day of january quietly in camp no. . the thermometer fell to - . °: the third time we had recorded the same reading. i spent the leisure day in studying the maps i had drawn, and endeavouring to form a clear conception of the mountains and valleys among which we had been wandering. this much was evident, that the great watershed between the isolated lake basins of the chang-tang and the indian ocean ran along the main pabla range, and that this was the immediate western prolongation of the mighty chain nien-chen-tang-la. we had crossed the pabla mountains at the sela-la, and were now in the wide-stretching intricate river system of the my-chu. nearly parallel to the my-chu flows farther east the shang-chu, and along its valley the pundit krishna (a. k.) travelled in the year and count de lesdain in . between the my-chu and the shang-chu there must therefore be a secondary watershed and a considerable mountain elevation, which is really nothing else than an offshoot from the main range of the pabla. all the watercourses we had crossed from the sela-la onwards flow westwards, and the secondary watershed, where they take their rise, lies to the east of our route. it is, however, possible that between the my-chu and the shang-chu another, or perhaps several valleys lie, equal in importance to the valleys of these rivers. the pabla is only a part of the main chain of the "trans-himalaya," and the trans-himalaya is not only a watershed of the first rank, but is also a geographical boundary of exceptional importance. i have now and then wandered through mountain regions of awful grandeur, but have never seen anything to equal the country to the south of the trans-himalaya. in chang-tang the predominating lines of the landscape are slightly undulating and horizontal; now we had reached the peripheral regions, having a drainage to the sea, and immediately vertical lines came into prominence. on the south side of the trans-himalaya the valleys are much more boldly excavated in the rock masses than in any part of the plateau country. and why? because the precipitation from the monsoon clouds is incomparably more abundant on the south side of the trans-himalaya than on the northern flank. it is the same in the himalayas, where the south side, facing the west monsoon, catches the lion's share of the precipitation, and is irrigated by much more abundant and more continuous rains than the northern. now we found springs, brooks, and rivers in every valley, while not very long before we were always in danger of finding no water. in climatic relations, then, the trans-himalaya is a boundary line equalled in magnitude and importance by few on the earth's surface. my excitement and expectation were constantly increasing; every day i saw plainer indications of the proximity of a religious metropolis--votive cairns, _manis_, travellers, caravans were all signs of it. my ladakis were inspired by the same feeling of exultation which the pilgrims of islam experience when they approach the arafat mountain, and remember that from that elevation they will behold for the first time the holy mecca. early in the forenoon fresh men with fresh yaks presented themselves to take over our loads on february . i could not understand why the nomads were ready to serve us without the slightest suggestion. certainly the highway is divided into stages, and fresh yaks are kept in readiness for the transport of baggage and goods, but these advantages are intended only for tibetans, not for a european caravan, which had not even a passport. at any rate ngurbu tundup had done us no harm; on the contrary, it was known everywhere that i was coming, and that he was a messenger sent to me by the tashi lama. at every halting-place we were told how many days ago he had passed through the place. the readiness of the nomads to provide us with yaks was due in no small degree to the good pay and kind treatment they received. now our own yaks travelled without loads, and also the seven ladak horses and the last surviving mule. but we were prepared for any emergency. we had agreed that if we could not at any time find transport animals, i, with muhamed isa and namgyal, would ride on our three tibetan horses in forced marches to shigatse, while the caravan would follow slowly under robert's command. [illustration: . pass of la-rock. _mani_ heap with fluttering prayer-streamers.] [illustration: . on the bank of the tsangpo (brahmaputra).] we had ½ degrees of frost in the night, and the morning was horribly cold, dull, and stormy. we ascended to the next pass along a new valley. we had not gone far before we were half dead with cold; robert wept, he was so frozen. when it was warmest, there were still ½ degrees of frost, and a biting wind blew in our faces. our faces, and especially our noses, would have been frost-bitten if we had not constantly put them in the openings of our long fur sleeves, where, however, the breath turned so quickly to ice that the sleeve froze on to the moustache. it is not easy to do map work under such circumstances. before i have taken my observation and looked at the watch my left hand is dead; and, however much i hurry, i have not recorded the result before my right hand has lost all feeling. it is impossible to march on foot in face of the storm up a steep ascent and in the rarefied air if one has the least respect for one's heart. we crept into a cave and crouched down on the sheltered side; we thrust our hands between the horse and the saddle-girth to thaw them; we stamped our feet, and looked intensely miserable when the muscles of our faces were so benumbed that we could hardly speak. "let us ride on; we will light a fire up above." and so we struggled painfully up through sharp-edged detritus and among stones. at last we are up on the flat arch of the chesang-la at an absolute height of , feet. this pass is therefore a little higher than the sela-la, but nevertheless it is only a pass of the second rank, for it separates two of the affluents of the my-chu. when we came up, there were three large grey wolves on the pass, but they quickly took to flight. here the storm raged in uncontrolled freedom, and we could scarcely keep on our feet. robert and i crouched on the ground on the sheltered side of the large cairn, while rabsang and our tibetan guide collected dry yak-dung. we set it alight with the help of flint and steel, and then we all four cowered over the fire. we opened our fur coats to let a little heat penetrate our clothes and took off our boots to warm our feet, but we sat an hour and a half before we felt anything like human beings again. then we hastened down in a south-south-westerly direction and encamped in the sham valley near some wretched stone huts. chapter xxii to the bank of the brahmaputra the sham valley narrows like a pear, and at the entrance of this funnel huts stand at three different spots, and large herds graze on the mountain slopes. a _mani_, feet long by feet high, was covered with clods to protect the upright stones sculptured with prayers. at length the sham valley enters a large valley coming from the east, which occupies a prominent place in this river system. it is traversed by the bup-chu-tsangpo, the largest river we have yet seen. immediately below the place where the two valleys unite is the confluence of a third river, which is called dangbe-chu and flows from the south-east. thus three considerable streams meet in this small expansion of the valley. the explanations of my guide made this complicated river system of the my-chu-tsangpo clear to me. the sources of the bup-chu-tsangpo lie two long days' march to the east, and are of course to be found in the great offshoot of the pabla which forms on the east the watershed of the my-chu-tsangpo. from the confluence where we now stood the bup-chu-tsangpo continues its course for two short days' journey south-westwards, and then at the monastery linga-gompa enters the my-chu-tsangpo, which has its source in the main range of the pabla. the bup-chu-tsangpo was at this season converted into a huge sheet of ice, but had an open water channel. we crossed dry-footed at a place where the ice formed a bridge all across the bed of the stream, and then marched in a south-easterly direction through the narrow dangbe valley. at camp no. , on february , we left tundup sonam and tashi behind with our own yaks, which were so exhausted that they could be driven only very slowly. the men were given money for their keep, and were ordered to move on towards shigatse at a very slow pace. the rest of the caravan set out early, in good weather and at a minimum temperature of only . °. our course is south-south-east and afterwards east. all the valleys are full of ice, which we strew with sand as the caravan passes. the pass to-day is the dangbe-la, decorated, as usual, with a cairn and streamers; its height is , feet, or much less than that of the preceding pass. it is interesting, as lying on the watershed between the bup-chu (my-chu) and the rung-chu. the latter river does not unite with the my-chu, but takes its own course direct to the upper brahmaputra. when i asked why we could not descend the rung valley to avoid the two passes in front of us, i was told that the valley is very narrow, is confined by precipitous mountains, and is filled with ice. there is, however, a path used in summer which runs sometimes along the slopes, sometimes over the valley bottom, but is hard to follow after rain, for then large volumes of water pour down the valley, thundering over falls and rapids. we bivouacked in a locality called ngartang in the rung valley, where twelve tents remain standing all through the year. the valley is considered cold, whereas the sham is reputed warm. indeed, we had found there some juniper bushes, and were so delighted at seeing them that we had adorned the inside of our tents with branches. it never snows in summer in the sham valley, but it does in the rung valley. in many years there is much rain in both valleys. as though to prove the truth of the tibetans' assertions, the thermometer again fell in the night to - . °. we were prepared for a long day's journey and a difficult pass, and therefore it was still dark when i heard the yaks being driven into the camp. after we have left the ma-lung river behind us we ride up hills consisting of firm soil overgrown with moss, and an inextricable entanglement of mountains is displayed to our view. we ride steeply upwards along the valley coming down from the pass, passing over detritus and among boulders, with votive cairns here and there. a stretch of almost level ground follows, and then at last the path rises steeply to the pass, which is strewn with innumerable blocks of grey granite. this is the ta-la or "horse pass," and its absolute height is , feet. if the ascent among the boulders is troublesome, and both horse and rider have to twist their bodies in all kinds of acrobatic feats, the pilgrim is richly rewarded when he stands at the top of the ta-la beside the streamer-decked cairn; for anything grander and more overpowering i have never yet seen, unless it were on the top of the chang-lung-yogma. the panorama to the south-east and east-south-east is so fascinating that we almost forget to dismount. we command a somewhat limited portion of the horizon, for two peaks of the ta-la crest, like the portal of a great temple, close in the landscape in front of us. below is a zone of reddish-brown, dome-shaped hills, behind them a nearly black spur, intersected by numerous short transverse valleys, and farther in the background a dark grey ramification. all seem to run westwards and from the watershed, which we have supposed to lie to the east of our route since we crossed the sela-la. such scenery as this we had gazed upon time after time. but high above the dark-grey ridge rises a world of mountains which seems to belong to the heavens rather than the earth, so lightly and airily is it poised above the rest of the earth under a canopy of white clouds. it is so far from us that the individual contours are indistinguishable, and it rises like a wall of a universal light blue hue, which, however, is a little deeper than the colour of the sky. the boundary between the two expanses of blue is sharply marked by an irregular bright white line; for what we see before us is the snow-covered crest of the himalayas, and behind it lies india with its eternal summer. these are the most northern chains of the himalayas, on the frontier between tibet and bhotan. between them and the dark grey crest, comparatively near to us, yawns an abyss, a huge fissure on the earth's crust, the valley of the brahmaputra or tsangpo. the river itself is not visible, but we feel that we are now not far from our destination. ah, you fearful ranges and passes which we have surmounted in the chang-tang, where dead horses mark the miles and show in which direction we travelled, at last we have you behind us, and only a single mountain system, the himalayan, separates us from india! this view strikes us dumb, and it seems wonderful to me that i have succeeded in forcing my way so far. tsering and bolu now reach the pass with the small caravan. they fall on their knees before the heap of stones and recite their prayers, and tsering tears a strip off his ragged coat to tie as an offering on to one of the strings. we all feel as though we were on a pilgrimage. the tibetans who let their yaks on hire see after the loading and unloading, gather fuel, and relieve the ladakis of many of their duties. the older men of our own people are allowed to ride. they have easier work in every way, but still they are pilgrims on the way to one of the greatest centres of lamaism. old tsering holds his cap in his hand as he goes over the pass, and cannot turn his eyes aside from the dreamy light-blue mountains which gleam in the distance among the clouds. he reminds himself that they rise far beyond tashi-lunpo and that we have not to cross them to reach our longed-for destination. but we must leave this grand pass, the never-to-be-forgotten ta-la. down we go on a break-neck descent among boulders, between steep cliffs, over landslips and spurs, and the himalayas gradually vanish from sight. now we see only the line of the crest tipped with eternal snow; after we have descended a couple of slopes, it also is concealed by the dark grey ridge, and our horizon is bounded by its sharp outline. kabbalo is a village of two tiny stone cabins in the permanakbo-tang valley where we encamp. several tibetans are out of doors and stare at us; for dinner i have butter and radishes, and see no more of the perpetual mutton. on february we made a short march down the same valley, which is called dokang, where we set up our camp no. . forty tibetans stood at the camp-fire. when i rode up they all thrust out their tongues as far as they would go, and their bright red colour formed a strong contrast to the dirty faces. those who wore caps took them off with the left hand and scratched their heads with the right--another form of salutation. when we spoke with them they repeatedly shot out their tongues, but only from politeness and friendliness; they could not do enough to show their goodwill. near the camp are the ruins of a _dzong_, or fort, which is called dokang-pe, and a deserted village called arung-kampa testifies that the valley was formerly more densely populated than now. the march on the th is one i shall never forget; for now we rode down the gigantic staircase, the edge of the chang-tang, into the ginunga gap which we had seen from the ta-la, and in the depths of which flows the upper brahmaputra. from the camp we marched towards the south-south-east, leaving our river on the right, which, cutting through the mountains in a deep ravine, flows to the rung-chu. at the entrance of the narrow valley stands a small temple, the chega-gompa. a pack of wolves howled dismally in a gorge. the ascent to the pass la-rock ( , feet) is short and easy, and before we were aware we were up at a great cairn amid smaller heaps of stones, where the _tarpoche_ (votive pole) stands grey and cracked, and much worn by wind and weather (illustration ). several blocks of stone lying in heaps on the east side of the pass were white-washed on their upright sides. we had to cross over two more smaller ridges before we had a free and uninterrupted view. the scene is grand, and reminds one of the landscape seen from the palace at leh. the northern ranges of the himalayas were distinctly visible, but heavy clouds rested like a canopy on their peaks. mount everest, therefore, the highest mountain of the world, could not be seen. the tsangpo appeared as a very small bright riband, still at a considerable distance. below us flowed the rung-chu, which we could see from the place where it emerges from the mountains. most imposing are the colossal offshoots and ramifications of the mountains lying to the east and west of our position, which fall suddenly to the valley of the brahmaputra like an endless row of tiger's claws. the plain stretched out before us is a very large expansion of the brahmaputra valley, and is named ye, or yeshung, while the river is here called the yere-tsangpo. it is densely peopled; the great number of dark specks are all villages. to the right, at the foot of a mountain spur, stands the large monastery tashi-gembe, which with its numerous white-washed houses has the appearance of an italian coast town. thence a road runs to the famous monastery sekya. a fine line meandering towards the south-east is the great highway to shigatse, tashi-lunpo, and lhasa. from the last platform the path plunges down headlong, so we descend on foot these steep slopes of grey granite rounded by wind and weather. where loose material fills up the interstices the path is sunk in to the depth of a yard. many pilgrims, horses, and yaks have passed here before the path became so small. sometimes we have abysses beside us, sometimes we slide down over the sheets of granite, sometimes we step down as on a staircase, but down we go, ever downwards, and we rejoice to think that every step brings us nearer to warmer, denser air, where we can breathe more easily. here and there tower up great round granite blocks on a pedestal of loose rubbish, like glacier tables; rain and wind have sculptured out these singular forms. at last we are down on the great plain into which all the valleys open. we ride past barley-fields, poplar groves, farms and villages with white houses, where blue and red pennants and flags decorate the roofs. we leave the monastery tugden on our left; a little farther, at the foot of a mountain spur, muhamed isa had made a halt. about a hundred tibetans of all ages and both sexes, exceedingly black and dirty, but very friendly, surrounded the tents. they sold us sheep, fowls, milk, radishes, and malt beer (_chang_), and our tired animals were supplied with plenty of hay and barley. women with a round arch on their necks by way of ornament, carried wicker baskets of dung to the fires, and were never tired of sitting with us, astonished at us and our wonderful occupations. here ngurbu tundup presented himself and gave me the welcome information that his master, kung gushuk, would forward my correspondence. he received only a part of his reward at present, and the remainder would be paid him as soon as i had news that the letters had actually reached gyangtse. he handed me a _kadakh_, or cloth of welcome, from his master, and said that he was ordered to accompany us and assist us on the way to shigatse. this was most important news. it signified that we should meet with no obstructions. here the absolute height was , feet, and the air was warm and pleasant. at nine o'clock we had only ½ degrees of frost, and therefore the tent flap was left open. i held a long consultation with robert and muhamed isa. should we spend ten days instead of only one in this delightful locality, where there was all we wanted and where the animals could recover their strength, while i visited the curious monasteries perched like storks' nests on rocky promontories, or glittering white at the mouths of valleys? no; we knew nothing definite about the reception that awaited us; it was only eleven days' journey to lhasa, and we could reach our destination, shigatse, in three days. we had heard nothing from the government, but we were expected in shigatse. any moment might bring a change unfavourable to us. we would not therefore lose a single precious day, but would start early in the morning, and hurry on as long as the road was open to us. our excitement was becoming acute. after all the severe trials and adventures we had experienced should we succeed in reaching our goal? at night the ladakis sang their tashi-lunpo hymn more softly and earnestly than ever. at midnight they were singing still, and i listened attentively, though i had so frequently heard the song on the chang-tang. [illustration: . the tsangpo with floating ice.] [illustration: . the valley of the tsangpo above shigatse.] then the fires went out in our first camp in the valley of the brahmaputra. the crowd collected before the tents on the morning of the th was a very mixed one. horses, mules, and cows were to carry the luggage, for there were no yaks here. a south-west storm blew when i started fully an hour later, and the whole population of the neighbourhood collected to witness our departure. just as i was mounting into the saddle three emissaries appeared from a certain cheppa deva, a friend of kung gushuk. they brought me a present from him consisting of a whole slaughtered sheep, a thick sweet cake, with figures in relief and preserved fruits on the top, three large lumps of butter, and thirty eggs. i could not send any present in return, for the caravan was already gone on, but i gave them bright rupees and begged them to convey my hearty greeting to the unknown cheppa deva. then the chief of the three said: "we must hand over this money to our master, and therefore it would be well if the bombo chimbo would give us an extra tip." this was a cute, sensible speech; they received an additional sum of money and went away contented. a number of other people accompanied us, giggling and chattering, as far as the highroad to shigatse. the attractive monasteries on the right and left of the road passed out of sight, and we rode through part of the village dzundi, inhabited by smiths, and past a warm medicinal spring, over which a bath-house is erected--unfortunately it was just then occupied by a patient, and we could not enter; white clouds of steam issued through the roof, windows, and doors. and further proceeds our picturesque party, through more villages and barley-fields, past fresh monasteries, rocky cliffs and valley openings, till the road winds over a barren plain more and more to the south, towards the brahmaputra, just as one approaches the indus from leh, and, as there, loose stones have been removed from the road and lie along the sides. where the valley contracts we have the large monastery tarting-gompa on its rock to the left, and on the right or southern bank of the river the village rokdso with its ferry; and now we reach the first granitic spur, which extends to the neighbourhood of the river. beyond the village karu with its cornfields and small gardens we ride through a hollow way feet deep, a corridor in the yellow löss; here and there the banks are broken through by rain gutters, and through the gaps, as from the windows of a gallery, we have a glimpse of the great side valley so, which drains from the south into the tsangpo. the rain has modelled the loam into pyramids, sometimes as much as a yard high, like a forest of gigantic mushrooms. we meet dark bare-headed peasants, driving before them laden horses and mules, and women and children with baskets on their backs, containing fuel or roots. an old woman sat astride on her mule and rose in her saddle with the step of the animal; a man of higher position, on horseback, accompanied his wife; some country people whistled as they followed their cows laden with hay; a party of men and women in picturesque costumes of blue, red, and yellow were making a pilgrimage to the new year's festivities in tashi-lunpo, which my ladakis had long hoped to attend. all the traffic was making eastwards, and we met only men who were going on business from one village to another. the road now runs over low land which is flooded in summer, so that those who pass this way are then obliged to travel along the flanks of the mountains. even now the tsangpo is an imposing stream, and we rest for a while on its bank, which our road touches for the first time. for the first time in my life i drink of the holy water of the brahmaputra. bluish-green and almost perfectly transparent, it flows slowly and noiselessly in a single bed to the east, while here and there fishes are seen rising. only a very thin crust of ice confines the water at the margin, but a bright clump of ice, like a mountain crystal, frequently sweeps past us. a raft laden with barley floats down on the way to the great market in shigatse, and soon vanishes round the next corner, where the steersmen with their long poles must keep a good look-out--a sight reminding me vividly of my voyage on the tarim in the year . to the east of this point the soil is sandy and rises into barren dunes feet high. one can tell at the first glance how they are formed, especially on a day like this, when the westerly storm sweeps the drift-sand before it in clouds, often hiding completely the steep rocky walls on the right bank of the river. during high-water the river deposits quantities of mud and sand on the shallows, which are exposed and dry up in winter. the west wind carries away the silted material to pile up dunes farther east; where these lie low enough, the next high-water clears them away, and when it has fallen the process is repeated. thus in the valley of the tsangpo a continuous displacement of solid matter from west to east is going on. it is not alone that the river excavates the bed with its own weight, and loads its water with masses of mud; but also the material deposited at the banks is borne away by the wind which comes to the help of the water. wind and flowing water work together in harmony to the same end, washing out this gigantic drainage channel deeper and deeper. they have laboured at the work for untold thousands of years, and the result is the tsangpo valley as we see it to-day. after a ride of eight hours we came to a small village composed of thirty houses, called rungma (illustration ), where the tents were set up in a garden among poplars and willows. how pleasant it seemed to us, who had passed a whole half-year on the desolate chang-tang plateau, to hear the wind soughing again through the leafless branches of the trees! now the fires were no longer fed with dried dung; dry faggots crackled between the tents and threw a bright light on the trees and the tibetans. on february we had another long ride. ngurbu tundup complained that his mule had run away, so that he must stay behind, and begged me to pay him the remainder of the reward i had promised. but this trick was too transparent. we suspected that the letters had not reached gyangtse after all. however, we were not far from the village when ngurbu came riding after us on a borrowed horse with jingling bells. when we had pitched our camp, ngurbu was immediately sent off as a punishment to shigatse, to inform kung gushuk that we should arrive the next day, and that i wished to have a good house prepared for me. that was a thoughtless step, for if kung gushuk had told what he knew to a chinaman, we should have been stopped at the last moment before reaching the town. the winding highway runs further and further eastwards along the northern bank of the tsangpo, past fields laid out in terraces and watered by the river. it is astonishing to find in tibet so much cultivable land, and such a number of inhabited villages with solid stone houses and gardens. at lamo-tang the river washes the mountainous foot of the left bank, and here a narrow break-neck path runs in zigzags up the slopes. but it need not be used except when the water is high. now we travel along the embankment beside the river. the river has quite a different appearance to-day: its surface is half covered with porous ice-blocks, but then at night there were . degrees of frost. leaping and clattering they drive downstream and graze the fringe of ice attached to the bank, piling up on it small white walls of ice. they keep in the line of the strongest current, and often remain stranded on sandbanks which show a reddish-brown tinge amid the clear green water. a grand landscape under a blue sky and among ponderous fissured mountain masses! in the afternoon the drift-ice had decreased in quantity, and in the evening, before our camp, had disappeared altogether (illustration ). upwards over the extreme point of a rocky projection by a stony staircase where we prefer to go on foot. then we descend again to the level valley-bottom, past more villages and monasteries, always surrounded by _chhortens_ and _manis_, and often, like the tikze-gompa in ladak, perched on rocks. tanak-puchu is a great valley coming down from the north, and its river irrigates the fields in tanak. i could not obtain a clear description of this valley: all i heard was that it came from a pass to the north; so i do not know whether it comes from the trans-himalaya, like the my-chu and shang-chu valleys. if such is the case, however, then the eastern watershed of the my-chu is a hydrographic boundary between it and the tanak-puchu, not the shang-chu. the question can only be solved by future investigations on the spot. [illustration: . house in the village of rungma.] [illustration: . garden of the tashi lama in the village of tanak.] in the tanak ("the black horse") valley we encamped in a pretty garden (illustration ), where a small house with a gaily painted verandah is occupied by the tashi lama, when the prelate pays his annual visit to the temple tashi-gembe. the garden is situated on a terrace of detritus, which descends sheer down to the river and affords a magnificent view of the tsangpo. the river is here called sangchen, or sometimes tsangpo-chimbo, that is, the great river. the tsangpo is the river of tibet _par excellence_. according to waddell this name is sometimes so written that it is a strict translation of the name brahmaputra, which means "son of brahma." we have already mentioned the name yere-tsangpo, and farther westwards we shall meet with other names. in the lower part of its passage through the himalayas it is called dihong, and it assumes the name of brahmaputra only when it emerges from the mountains to water the plains of assam. chapter xxiii down the tsangpo by boat--entry into shigatse the th of february dawned, the great day on which our caravan of yearning pilgrims would reach the goal of their dreams. the day before had been stormy, and in the evening a strange reddish-yellow light spread over the valley in consequence of the dust that floated about in the air; the mountains were indistinct, and the horizon to the east was quite invisible. but the morning was beautiful and the day was calm. early in the morning sonam tsering and some ladakis went on board two boats with part of the baggage, while muhamed isa and tsering kept along the road with the caravan. that was a stratagem we had devised. if any one appeared at the last moment ordering us to halt, the prohibition would only affect muhamed isa and the caravan, while i should slip into shigatse by water unnoticed. all the others were on the way when robert, rabsang, and i made our way from the terrace down a steep gully, and stepped on board the excellent boat that was to bear us down the holy stream. these tsangpo boats are both simple and practical. a skeleton, or rather framework, of thin tough boughs and laths is tied fast together, and is covered with four yak hides sewed together, which are attached to a rim of wood forming the gunwale--and the boat is ready. it is very dumpy, of a long rectangular shape, but somewhat smaller in front than behind. it is not heavy, being only an ordinary load for a man. all the boats now descending the river with pilgrims going to the new year festival, and the boats which convey country produce or fuel to shigatse and tashi-lunpo, will be carried back by the owners along the river-bank. a large proportion of the inhabitants of hlindug-ling, the part of tanak where we had encamped, gain their living by such transport. these boats are very buoyant; there were four men in mine, and it could have borne a much heavier load. the rower sits on a thin board and rows continuously, but faces forwards, for he must be able to see the waterway downstream. the blades of the oars are divided like a fork, and a piece of leather is sewed between the prongs like the web of a duck's foot. our boatman is a self-confident fellow, and receives my advice with a smile of superiority when i venture to air my experience in river navigation. the current does most of the work, but the oars are in constant use to keep the boat under control. at first we glided along slowly till we came to the village segre, with white, clean, and neat houses standing picturesquely on the left bank, and a short distance beyond, to where the river washes the foot of a steep mountain spur. but then the velocity of the boat increased, amounting on an average to feet a second. i was able to look down the river, note the intervals of time, take my bearings, measure the velocity, and draw a map of the river's course, just as i had before done on the tarim. we passed no cataracts, but the water formed small rapids in narrow contracted reaches, and seethed round the bends. it was a splendid voyage, the most delightful that i have experienced. the last day's journey could not have passed more pleasantly. in tibet, where hitherto nature had only placed obstacles in our way, we were now borne along by one of nature's forces. during half a year we had worked our way through chang-tang with constant losses, and now the gates stood wide open and i glided as smoothly as on oil to my destination. one of the greatest erosion valleys of the world displayed its wonderful panorama, the air was so still that not the slightest ripple ruffled the surface of the tsangpo. undisturbed by the winds of heaven, the emerald-green water gives itself up to the sport of silent eddies, which, coming into existence at cliffs and projecting points, dance rapidly downstream in ever wider circles, and finally vanish altogether. they are born and die, come and go, and the same tongue of land calls forth new ones to life, but every new vortex whirls its spirals in other water of the holy river, which has for thousands of years pursued its course to the mysterious narrows of the dihong. what an intoxicating pleasure to be borne along eastwards by the tsangpo! is the river one of the forbidden paths of tibet? if they come now and stop me i shall return: "i am not in tibet; i am on the holy river of the hindus; let me alone." the view changes with quite perplexing frequency: we have a dark wall of rock in front of us; at the next turn it has disappeared, and another comes into sight on the opposite side of the stream. we often wonder what above and below mean here; we seem to remain motionless while the panorama revolves round us. robert is plunged in thought, looks over the gunwale, and, misled by the water and ice-blocks about us, exclaims with astonishment: "why, master, surely we are not moving." "look at the sandbank yonder on the left," i reply, and he is puzzled at seeing it move upstream. and where the river is shallow and the bottom can be seen, it seems as though the gravel, rounded stones, and sandbanks were all passing upwards underneath the boat. [illustration: . ferry-boats.] [illustration: . pilgrims on the way to tashi-lunpo.] we fall into reverie on this fairy-like voyage. a thought occurs to me: shall we travel on to the mouth of the ki-chu and thence go up to lhasa on foot? we can travel by night, and hide ourselves during the day; and tibetan is rabsang's mother-tongue. but it passes away as quickly as the eddies beside the boat. in lhasa i could add nothing to the knowledge acquired by younghusband's expedition two years before; my hopes were fixed on the friendship of the tashi lama. on the sela-la i had conceived a great fancy for the trans-himalaya, and no geographical problem on earth had greater attractions for me. all my future enterprises should have the object of making as thorough a scientific investigation of the trans-himalaya as could possibly be accomplished by one man in a single journey. yes, this task was so tremendous that my former longing for lhasa died away like the red of even in the tsangpo valley, this gigantic colonnade of granite, this royal highway of buddha, which, breaking through the mountains and becoming hazy in the far east, leads direct to the mouth of the lhasa valley, while we now glide along on its floor of liquid emerald to the holiest town of lamaism. fascinating and attractive as fairy dances the current carried my thoughts eastwards, but it also prompted new plans of campaign in districts which had hitherto lain outside my sphere of interest. in the valleys which pour their water to the my-chu, i had heard more than once of nain sing's raga-tsangpo, which some tibetans had described as quite as important as the tsangpo itself. was, perhaps, the raga-tsangpo the main stream? had it, perchance, tributaries deriving their water from the heart of the mysterious country to the north? not an evening had passed during the whole winter when i had not studied attentively ryder's and nain sing's maps. was it certain where the source of the brahmaputra lay? had i not here a task before me much more profitable than following in the steps of tommy atkins to lhasa? the sun-lighted waters bearing our boat brought me intelligible messages from distant ravines, from the melting margins of perpetual fields of firn, from bluish glaciers and green ice grottoes in the heaven-kissing crest of the himalayas, nay, a sonorous echo from the valley where the source of the brahmaputra bursts out from the rock. but we must not forget the demands of the present amid dreams of the future. the golden gods of tashi-lunpo expect us at their festival. sometimes the river contracts and deepens, and the bottom ceases to be visible, sometimes it spreads out and the velocity decreases. below the village pani, where a valley opens out, the river makes a bend to the south-east, but quickly turns eastwards again, where it traverses the great bed which in summer lays almost the whole breadth of the valley bottom under water. we seldom pass a high, clearly defined bank covered with grass, which is not flooded at high-water. from time to time the river sends out a side channel, which, however, soon rejoins the main bed. wild-geese stand on the bank and scream as we pass by; black and white ducks, herons and other waterfowl, are fearless and trustful, as though they well knew that it is strictly forbidden in tashi-lunpo to quench the light of life in any living thing. just as we were leaving tanak a dozen boats passed the village; some were tied together in couples so that they could not capsize. the passengers were pilgrims from farther up the river on their way to the new year festival. there women sat in their most elegant holiday attire, with necklets of coloured glass beads from which little silver boxes containing images and relics or silver coins were suspended, and with high arched frames at the back of the neck covered with red woollen material and adorned with turquoise and coral. there sat greybeards, men, and boys, and a couple of lamas in their red togas had joined the party of laymen. most of the boats carried small prayer streamers on rods tied to the gunwale, and small reliquaries hung over it to bring a blessing on the boat journey. in some boats sand was laid on the bottom and slabs of stone, where a fire could be kindled and tea infused. they took little notice of us, but talked and gossiped continually and seemed very merry. evidently the passengers of some boats were well known to one another, and were travelling together from the same village. all the boats on the river were engaged on a day like this, and a continuous succession of pilgrims streamed down the water highway to the holy monastery. where the banks were low these small black points could be seen both up and down stream (illustrations , ). we float past a sandbank, where some blocks of ice are stranded, warning us of danger. the boat only twice grazes the bottom, for our boatman is watchful and steers well. he knows the way, too, and here it is not so easy as it looks to find the course; for the river splits into arms, and only a boatman acquainted with them all can choose the best and shortest. sometimes he guides us into a narrow channel where the water rushes swiftly. now the river turns towards the right, southern side of the valley, where a mountain falls sheer to the water, leaving only sufficient room on the bank for a road buttressed up with stone blocks. there a dozen boatmen are carrying their skin boats on their backs, and, seen from behind, resemble a row of gigantic beetles. and in the other direction caravans of mules laden with firewood are being driven to shigatse. here begins a succession of views of inconceivable grandeur, picturesqueness, and wildness. one cliff after another falls steeply to the river, and is washed by the water murmuring at its foot. often a block of ice is tilted up in a whirlpool, rises above the surface, brightly glistening in the sun, and then falls back again. we waited for an opportunity of landing, but the current was too strong. at length the boatman succeeded in getting us into a backwater, and i got out on to a promontory just as a party of pilgrims were passing by, and was in time to take them with my camera. they could not make out what i was doing, and they ceased talking; they seemed relieved, and breathed freely again, when they found that they had got off with a whole skin, and that my camera was not a firearm. wherever i turned my eyes new subjects presented themselves and invited me to stay sketching all day long. but there was no time; it was my last day, and i had ventured on too great a game to let everything depend on a single card. "it is still far," the skipper said, pointing at starting to a point behind which lay the shigatse valley, a considerable distance off (illustration ). when we come again into the middle of the valley the river becomes as broad as a lake, is smooth as a mirror, grand and majestic, flows slowly as oil, and reflects the forms of the mountains and the boat. the spurs and cliffs of the mountains on the northern bank have a rosy hue, the water, usually green, shines blue from the reflexion of the sky, and all is solemnly quiet and peaceful. robert and rabsang sleep in a corner, but i grudge to lose a minute of this pilgrim voyage. here and there stands a cairn with a streamer-decked rod--these are the places where routes cross the river. at one ferry a large caravan of yaks were halting, and their loads of sheep's wool were piled up in a wall on the bank. the black men stood out sharply against a background of yellow sand dunes. farther down tsering was engaged in getting his detachment into a boat, while his horses were being driven on to another by coaxing and scolding. here the great road from tanak crosses the river, and tsering shouted to us as we shot rapidly past that muhamed isa was far ahead. fishermen in two boats were at work with their net in a bay of the river, trying to drive the fish into the net by throwing stones; they had a poor catch, but promised to bring us fish for sale in the morning to shigatse. we again make a bend to the south-east and approach the mountains of the southern side, at the foot of which we pass the villages chang-dang, tashi-gang, and tang-gang, prettily situated among gardens. the river now flows slowly in a single channel, as though it must be careful in passing the mouth of a valley leading to a monastery. there is much life and movement at the foot of the next promontory; many boats laden with barley, straw, firewood, and dung are on the point of putting in, and from others the cargo is being cleared amid shouts and singing. rows of boats are drawn ashore, and lie turned upside down like large hairy toads. the boatman who has conveyed us to the mouth of the nyang valley receives four times the usual pay, and can scarcely believe his eyes. he will be able to give himself a day's rest to-morrow. at this singular landing-stage guffaru is waiting with our horses. i mount my small white ladak horse and robert his tibetan bay, and while the sun is setting we ride up the nyang valley with rabsang as outrider. we soon plunge into a labyrinth of hollow ways and fissures in yellow loam. but we do not need a guide, for several travellers and mule-drivers are on their way, and give us instructions, and none is uncivil. a little to the left of our road flows the nyang-chu, the river of gyangtse, one of the largest southern tributaries of the tsangpo, with several villages on its banks. twilight falls; i feel my heart beating; shall we succeed? it becomes dark; a large white _chhorten_ stands like a ghost close on the right of our way. rabsang asks a belated wanderer how far it is, and receives the answer: "follow the road and you will come soon to a lane." on the right rises a hill, and on its summit the outlines of the shigatse-dzong, the council house, are faintly seen against the sky. now we are between white houses and follow a narrow lane, in which it is still darker. in an open place some chinese stand and stare at us. snappy dogs come out of the houses and bark at us. otherwise the town is asleep, and no popular assembly witnesses our entry. but where are our men? we do not know where they are quartered. ah! there stands namgyal, waiting to show us the way, and he leads us to a gate in the wall behind which kung gushuk's garden lies. here muhamed isa and all the other men meet and greet us, as though they would offer me their congratulations on a great triumph. we dismount, and cross the court to the house which kung gushuk has placed at my disposal. but it is cold and cheerless, and i prefer my tent set up under the poplars of the garden. while we are waiting for tsering we sit by a large fire of brushwood, whither also several tibetans gradually gather. i pay no heed to them; i am too much engaged with my own thoughts. i had been fortunate, and after a six months' journey through tibet had reached my first goal. it was late at night when my dinner was ready; it was very welcome, for we had had no provisions on the boat. then i had two hours' good work at the notes i had made during the day. but i was disturbed by a gentleman who belonged to the secular staff of the tashi lama. he said that he was not acting upon orders, but that he had been told that an unusual visitor had arrived, and he begged me to furnish him with particulars. then he wrote down the names and nationality of us all, and the size of the caravan, and inquired by which way we had come, whither we intended to travel, and what was the object of my visit to shigatse. he was exceedingly polite, and hoped that we had not suffered too severely in the cold of chang-tang. he was, he said, an official of too low a rank to venture to address the tashi lama, but he would communicate the information he had obtained to his superiors. i never heard anything more of him. seldom have i slept so well as on this night--yes, perhaps, when i had fortunately completed my college course. when the next day passed without any one, lay or spiritual, giving himself the least trouble about us, i sent muhamed isa up to tashi-lunpo. its golden roofs shone fierily in the rays of the evening sun on a slope in the west close to our garden, which was situated in the southern suburb of shigatse. my excellent caravan leader sought out a lama of high position, who answered that he would send some one next day to inquire particularly about my intentions and he would then communicate with me further. at the same moment a chinaman of high rank named ma paid me a visit. he introduced himself as the commander of the _lansa_, or detachment of chinese soldiers, which, it seems, garrisons shigatse. ma, who was a dungan and a follower of islam, became my particular friend from the first moment, and smirked with good temper and cheerfulness. he had arrived from lhasa five days previously, and was to stay until the amban, the governor-general, lien darin, recalled him. "it is inconceivable," said ma, "how you have contrived to get through to shigatse without being stopped." "yes, to speak frankly, i had expected all kinds of annoyances, if not sooner, at any rate a couple of days' journey from here." "i did not hear a word of your coming; if i had known that you were approaching the town, it would have been my duty to stop you." "then it is fortunate for me that you are strange here." "yes, but the worst is, that i shall come off badly as soon as the amban hears that you are living here, in shigatse. but now it is too late; i cannot help it now." "tell me, ma daloi, do you think that the tashi lama will receive me?" "i doubt it. immediately on my arrival i begged for an audience with the grand lama, but he has not even condescended to give me an answer. and yet i am a chinese officer." [illustration: . court of religious ceremonies in tashi-lunpo.] [illustration: . religious decorations on the roofs of tashi-lunpo to exorcise evil spirits.] this was little encouraging to me, a stranger, who had come from the north without permission, and of whom no one knew what spirit he was. and then next day was the new year festival, which i could not attend without some understanding, especially as the tashi lama himself would be present. but he must know something about me, or how could ngurbu tundup's arrival at ngangtse-tso with the letters be explained? meanwhile we awaited the course of events, and went out with a paper lantern to inspect one of the horses which had died in his stall and must be removed. why could he not remain alive now, when the mangers were so full of barley, straw, and chaff, and the animals stood against a wall which sheltered them from cold and wind, and had an idle time before them? five of the veterans and the last mule from poonch were still living, the last six of the splendid caravan which had set out from leh six months before. all the rest lay in chang-tang and the storms roared above them. these six should be cherished as the apple of my eye and be well cared for. their sore backs should be washed and rubbed, their flanks groomed, at night they should sleep in cloths, and of barley and chaff they should have abundance. the ground beneath them should be strewn with straw, and they should be led to water at regular times. i stroked my small grey, but he bit and kicked as usual. he, of all the veterans, was in the best condition, and guffaru declared that he could cross the chang-tang again if necessary. we were very comfortable in the garden. to right and left of my tent stood robert's and muhamed isa's, and that of the ladakis a little farther off, and huge fires burned as usual before the latter two. a man and woman of kung gushuk's household lived in a wretched hut in the entrance gate, and procured for us anything we wanted. the woman was old and infirm, and her face was bedaubed with black, but she was exceedingly friendly. she was always coming to my tent, bowing, giggling and grinning out of pure goodwill. on february i was awaked at half-past six with the news that two men wished to speak to me at once. the brazier and warm water were brought, i dressed in great haste, the tent was swept and put in order, and then i sent to invite my guests to enter. the one was a tall lama of high rank, named lobsang tsering, and he was a secretary of the tashi lama; the other, duan suen, was a chinaman, with handsome and refined features. both were extremely polite and had polished manners. we talked for two hours on all kinds of subjects. singularly enough, my arrival in shigatse seemed to be a complete surprise to both gentlemen. they inquired my name, the route by which i had come, and my intentions, and, of course, had never heard of poor little sweden; but they wrote down the swedish, english, and chinese names of my country. "i intend to be present to-day at the new year festival," i said. "i cannot leave shigatse without witnessing one of the greatest church feasts." "a european has never attended our festivals, which are intended only for tibetans and pilgrims of our faith, and permission will never be granted to witness them." "the panchen rinpoche (the holy teacher, the tashi lama) must have been informed of my coming some months ago. his holiness also knew from which direction i should come, or he could not have sent my mails to the dangra-yum-tso." "the panchen rinpoche never meddles with worldly matters; these are looked after by his brother, the duke (kung gushuk)." "still, i must see his holiness, for i know that he expects me." "it is vouchsafed only to a small number of mortals to appear before the face of the holy one." now the letter of the raja of stok and the chinese passport came into my mind. the letter made no impression on them; but the young chinaman, when the passport with its blue border and red stamp was unfolded before him, became very interested, and opened his eyes wider the farther he read. he read it once through, and then translated it slowly to lobsang tsering. "why," they then both asked, "did you not show us this paper at once? it would have saved us all discussion." "because the passport is made out for eastern turkestan and not for tibet," i answered truthfully. "that does not matter, now that you are here. you have an excellent chinese passport, and therefore are under chinese protection." the young chinaman took the passport and went off with it, while mr. lobsang tsering put further questions to me and examined our weapons and other articles. at last i asked him whether he would like to see our garden, and i hurriedly ate my breakfast during his absence. then the chinaman came back and declared shortly that i might attend the festival, that especial seats were reserved for myself and a couple of my people, and that a chamberlain of the tashi lama's court would call for us at the proper time. now i blessed the chinese passport which had caused me so much vexation at the time, and i blessed the indian government which had forced me to procure it; i blessed count wrangel, who had obtained it so quickly, and i blessed the chinese ambassador in london, who had written out the passport with permission of his government. but i had never dreamed that it would be of the slightest use to me, being issued for another country than tibet. this was our entry into shigatse, and these were our first experiences there. not a finger had been raised to stop us, no inquisitive people had jostled us in the streets to gaze at us. but now, when we had already set up house in the town, our presence in the place excited as general astonishment as if we had dropped down straight from heaven. that this stroke had succeeded, and through no action of mine, was due to certain peculiar circumstances. hlaje tsering had himself for some unexplained reason reopened the bag in which he had caught us, and the chieftains dwelling south of the ngangtse-tso probably thought: "if the governor of naktsang lets them pass, we cannot stop them." it was also lucky for us that some of these chiefs had betaken themselves to the new year festival at tashi-lunpo, and that we ourselves were lost in the crowd of other pilgrims when we came to the great highway; for during the days of the new year the tibetans are like capercailzies at breeding time: they neither see nor hear. and, lastly, i, the only european of the caravan, had ridden into the town when night had already spread a veil of darkness over the earth. [illustration: . the upper balcony of the court of ceremonies in tashi-lunpo.] chapter xxiv the new year festival the lamaist church has, in addition to the monthly festivals, four great annual ceremonies, and the greatest is the new year feast, the losar, which is celebrated in remembrance of the sakya-muni, buddha's victory over the six heresies, the victory of the true religion over infidelity. it is always held at the beginning of february, and is therefore a festival of spring and light, in which the children of buddha welcome the victory of the lengthening days over the darkness of winter, the passing away of the cold weather, the awakening of life and of the sprouting seeds after the winter sleep, and the approach of spring, when mild breezes, heralds of a warmer, brighter season, play with the streamers on all the temple roofs. the losar is therefore an extraordinarily popular feast, which for quite fifteen days draws the labourer from his work, the herdsman from his yaks, and the merchant from his counter; a season of joy and pleasure, of feasting and dancing; a time for paying and receiving visits, and of giving and receiving presents; when the houses and temples are swept and garnished, and the best clothes and ornaments are taken out of the trunks; when friends gather to drink together in their apartments, and then in humble meditation squash their noses against the floor before the images in the dark temple halls; when broad anecdotes and strange stories of robbers are related to visitors from a distance, frequently interrupted by the hum of the prayer mills and the eternal truth "om mani padme hum." all are admitted to the great temple festivals: no distinction is made between clergy and laity, monks and nomads, rich and poor, men and women, greybeards and children. a begging woman clothed in rags is seen beside a duchess loaded with precious stones. the losar is a feast of the whole people, a carnival of lamaism, like the lupercalia and saturnalia in ancient rome. it was my good fortune to arrive just in time for the greatest annual festival of lamaism, and to be present at its celebration in the monastery town of tashi-lunpo. at half-past ten appeared tsaktserkan, a young chamberlain from the vatican, in a very elegant yellow robe of silk and a hat like an upturned dish, with a hanging tassel, and announced that he had come from his holiness to fetch me to the festival, and that he was commissioned by the lama lobsang tsering to attend on me during my sojourn in shigatse. he requested me to put on the finest clothes i had with me, for i should sit where i could be seen during the whole time from the seat of the grand lama. at the bottom of my box i had an old dress coat, several dress shirts, and patent leather shoes, which i had brought especially for the benefit of the tashi lama, and when robert had rummaged out my shaving implements from another box, i assumed the appearance of a european gentleman among the bare mountains of tibet. but i could not compare in gorgeousness with my interpreter muhamed isa, for his gold-embroidered turban surpassed everything. of the rest only robert, tsering, rabsang, and namgyal were allowed to accompany me. we mount the new horses from the ngangtse-tso and ride to the monastery, a distance of twelve minutes. we leave on the right the shigatse-dzong, which stands picturesquely on its hill in the sunshine, and reminds me of the palace at leh. our way passes across an open place, by detached houses and courtyards, fields, pools, and ditches; the crowd increases, the road becomes narrower; people stream in dense masses to the monastery--townsmen and nomads, pilgrims from distant lands and dirty ragged beggars; and old women sit at every corner offering with loud voice sweetmeats and cakes for sale. boys, dogs, and chinamen are all mingled together as in a huge ant-heap. but tsaktserkan and his marshals open a way for us and we ride up the lane, beside which rows of great upright prayer mills are enclosed in white-washed masonry. a little higher the way becomes a proper street with tall white houses containing the cells of the monks, and we dismount at one of the chief entrances, a large gateway. high above us rises a brick-red temple building, the tsogla-kang, and above all shines the white façade of the labrang with a black frieze on the top and with awnings before its windows. we admire the imposing singular architecture, visible in all its lines and details and making an impression of uniformity and solidity. it is, perhaps, owing to my affection for tibet that everything in this wonderful land is bewitching and magnificent in my eyes. now we mount up to the holy dwellings; the steep, corridor-like passages between the mysterious walls are paved with flagstones, varying in form and dimensions, but all smooth and bright as metal, though very uneven and worn, for they have been trodden for centuries by the feet of innumerable pilgrims and the soles of hurrying monks. sometimes the crowding in this tightly packed stream of pilgrims is very uncomfortable, and in the lanes there is a musty odour of human beings. we mount higher and higher, go along winding passages, turn frequently at right angles left or right, pass through a gateway roofed over and with a massive threshold, and follow passages and corridors, dimly lighted, dark or pitch-dark, crowded with lamas in red togas, who have one or both arms bare, closely cropped hair, and no covering on their heads. they welcome us with kindly good-tempered smiles, and then move aside to let us pass. where treacherous steps lurk in the darkness, i feel a strong arm ready to support me in case i stumble; it is some attentive lama at my elbow. now it becomes lighter in the monastery walks, and the profiles of the monks stand out black against the light. we enter a gallery with massive wooden pillars, and we take our places in a balcony shut off from the gallery by curtains of yak's wool with horizontal white stripes at the bottom. an arm-chair of european form was placed for me, and i needed it; for this day's spectacle, the grandest of the whole new year festival, lasted three hours. here we sat as on the second tier of an open-air theatre, and had an excellent view of the scene of action, like a rectangular market-place, and surrounded by open platforms or terraces supported by colonnades of wooden pillars. the whole reminded me of a vast roofless auditorium. in the centre of the paved court rose a tall mast which had suffered severely from the wind, and had been fissured by many summers and the frosts of the succeeding winters, and from its top long flags hung down to the ground. immediately below our balcony ran the uppermost terrace, and beyond its edge we looked down over the whole courtyard where the religious ceremony was to take place, and over the galleries opposite and at the sides, one storey above the court below (illustration ). [illustration: , . the _profanum vulgus_ at the new year festival in shigatse.] everywhere, on all the balconies and roofs, on all the projections and terraces, even right up under the gilded roofs curved in the chinese style of the mortuary chapels, where departed grand lamas sleep, the people swarmed. from our elevated point of vantage we looked down on a sea of heads, a conglomeration of human beings, a mosaic of vivid glaring colours, an exhibition of national costumes, among which the tibetan dress was certainly the most conspicuous, but where the eye lighted on figures hailing from bhotan and sikkim, nepal and ladak, while chinese merchants, or soldiers and pilgrims from the grassy steppes of mongolia, were easily distinguishable. an old lama of high rank, who had shown us to our places, informed us that there were more than spectators present, and this estimate was below rather than in excess of the truth. right in front of the highest platform opposite us sits the consul of nepal, a young lieutenant in a round black cap with a gold band but no peak. he blows rings from his cigarette, and is the only one guilty of such a desecration of the holy place. behind him sit a number of other nepalese and representatives of other himalayan countries attracted hither by business affairs or religious zeal. to the left of them are long rows of men in dresses entirely of red or of yellow, long kaftans with coloured girdles and sashes round the waist, and mushroom-shaped hats, also red or yellow, which have the circumference of a parasol and are fastened with a string under the chin; they are officials of different ranks, are either the city fathers, or are attached to the civil court of the lama, or to the administrative bodies of the province chang. on the gallery below them sit their wives and other ladies of rank, quite buried under the most varied and extraordinary adornments: their dresses are red, green, and yellow; they wear necklaces and silver pendants, silver cases inlaid with turquoise, and at the back of the neck tall white aureoles, thickly set with jewels and other ornaments. their coiffures are of various forms: some have a parting in the middle, and hair, like polished ebony, puffed up at the sides; others have the hair plaited in a number of thin switches, which are fixed up and decorated with beads, etc. there are seated women from pari and kamba-dzong, from ngari-khorsum in the west and kham in the east, and from the black tents on the shores of tengri-nor. they remind me of leksand, mora, and vingåker, for there is life and colour in these female groups. beauty, according to european ideas, will be sought in vain, but many seem agreeable and merry; they are healthy, strongly and symmetrically built, and evidently are much pleased with their pretty dresses. but if their relationship to the venus de milo is very remote, they are at any rate women; they talk and chatter, nibble dried peaches and sweets, blow their noses with their fingers, and throw glances at their neighbours which betray their firm conviction that they have outstripped their sisters in the elegance of their attire. how very different these ladies are to the women we have seen in chang-tang! they do not, indeed, wash themselves every day, but to-day they have washed their faces for the festival, and one is astonished to see so many fair complexions--quite as fair as with us, with scarcely a tinge of yellow, and often with a colour on the cheeks as fresh as an apple. on the platform under our balcony there are no dignitaries: there the people sit sociably together, there the _profanum vulgus_ has its place; there sit country mothers hushing their crying children, and there stand ragged beggars leaning on their sticks, or sit on the ground with their backs against the wall, while they hum their usual begging songs, which are lost in the confusion of voices. many have brought small cushions, or folded clothes to make a comfortable seat. in some groups tea is drunk out of wooden cups, in others acquaintances meet and lay their heads alternately in one another's laps. fresh spectators are constantly coming on to the platforms, and the crush becomes dreadful. the railing is low, so as not to hide the view of the scene below. the last-comers have to look for a place against the house wall, and stand that they may see over the heads of those seated before them. some places right up under the roofs seem rather dangerous, but the people behave well and with great self-control; there is no jostling, no fighting for places, no one falls over the low balustrades, but the greatest harmony and the most perfect order prevail everywhere (illustrations , ). the weather was all that could be desired for an _al fresco_ festival. what an unpleasant odour must rise from the crowds of human beings when it rains during a festival in late summer! towards the end a slight wind arose, causing the flags which hung down from the galleries to unfold and blow out. to-day every one was in a holiday mood, and little attention was paid to us, though we sat in the full sunlight in a position where we could be seen from all sides. occasionally some one turned towards us and made a remark which caused merriment among the others. [illustration: . lama with shell-trumpet.] [illustration: . lama with flute used in religious services. sketches by the author.] as in the two preceding years the new year festival of was of a more solemn character than usual, and had attracted larger bands of pilgrims, for the dalai lama had taken flight when the english advanced to lhasa, and this cowardly pope dwelt, misunderstood and despised, in urga in mongolia, after abandoning his country, where all was in confusion, to the mercy of the invaders. many a pilgrim, who would otherwise have gone to lhasa, now resorted to tashi-lunpo in preference, where the panchen rinpoche, the pope of chang, had stuck to his post when the country was in danger. the chinese had posted up a long proclamation at all the street-corners in lhasa, in which they declared that the dalai lama was deposed because he had exposed his people to danger instead of defending them, and appointed the tashi lama in his place as the highest administrator of the home affairs of tibet. true, the mob had torn down this proclamation and trampled it in the dust, and the tashi lama had refused his acquiescence, but nevertheless it was still apparent, two and a half years later, that the tashi lama enjoyed a far higher reputation than the dalai lama. for though the dalai lama was supposed to be omnipotent, all-seeing, and omniscient, his troops had been defeated by infidel strangers; although he had promised his warriors invulnerability, they had been shot down like pheasants by the english machine guns; although he had solemnly sworn that no harm could befall lhasa, the abode of the gods, the enemy had occupied the town, while the invincible one, the almighty, the incarnation of the deity, had taken to headlong flight like the most cowardly of marauders, more cowardly and meaner than the worst mercenary from kham. the tibetans may be forgiven for beginning to doubt the infallibility of the dalai lama after the butchery at guru and tuna, though the priests were ready with plausible explanations of these events. the tashi lama, on the other hand, had stuck to his post, and was the object of the reverence and respect traditionally paid to the chief priests in tashi-lunpo. he was the highest prelate in tibet, while the pope of lhasa was wandering a homeless fugitive about mongolia. at the new year festival of it was easy to perceive what great prestige and what boundless confidence were attached to the person of the tashi lama. the crowds in festive robes who thronged the platforms and balconies were soon to behold with their own eyes the holiest of the holy in tibet. and the nearer the time approached, the greater became the excitement and expectation. they had been sitting here for hours, for weeks and months they had toiled through desolate mountains, and now---- suddenly from the uppermost platforms on the roofs ring out deep, long-drawn-out blasts of horns over the country; a couple of monks show themselves against the sky; they blow on singular sea-shells, producing a penetrating sound, which is echoed back in shrill and yet heavy tones from the fissured rocks behind the convent; they summon the _gelugpa_, the brotherhood of yellow monks, to the festival. the venerable lamas whose duty it is to attend on me, explain everything to me, but i do not find it easy to follow them, especially as their words are translated to me by a mohammedan. they say that this first blast gives notice that the monks are drinking tea together. then a shout of joy bursts forth from the lips of all the assembled multitude, for now the ceremonies begin. on the right hand, on the other side of the court, a gallery is placed obliquely resting on five pillars, and from it a stone staircase of eleven steps leads down to the court. the gallery is now concealed by heavy black curtains characteristic of all lama monasteries. invisible choristers, among whom we seem to distinguish voices of men and youths, now intone a mystic chant. it is subdued, deep, and slow; it quavers in religious enthusiasm beneath the dark vaults of the gallery, and seems to proclaim with full conviction: "in every land the whole world round this song of praise shall soon resound." the murmuring voices are silent and the chant swells up crescendo and then falls again, and seems to die out in some distant under-world, as though the singers had reached the portals of nirvana. enthralling, mystical, full of yearning and hope is this wonderful losar hymn in tashi-lunpo. nothing of the kind i have heard, neither the chanting in the isaac cathedral in st. petersburg, nor in the uspenski sobor, the cathedral of moscow, has made a deeper impression on me; for this chant is grand and powerful, and yet at the same time soothing as a cradle song, intoxicating as wine, and sedative as morphia. i listen to it with a solemn feeling, and miss it when the murmur of voices begins again, drowning the final notes. [illustration: , , . lamas in dancing masks. sketches by the author.] above this gallery is a second, which is open to the dojas-chimbo, as the court is called. only the middle is covered with a curtain of yellow silk with red stripes, and with heavy gold fringes and tassels at the bottom. behind this curtain the pope takes his place; he is so holy that his whole person may not be exposed to the gaze of the multitude, but a small rectangular opening is made in the curtain that he may be able to watch the proceedings. after an interval, long copper trumpets give forth a new signal; the holy one has left the labrang, and is on his way to the performance. a procession of high lamas enters the gallery, each bearing some of the robes and pontifical insignia of the tashi lama. a low, reverential, and subdued murmur is heard, the multitude rises, on the tip-toe of expectation, all is still as the grave, and all eyes are turned towards the door of the gallery through which the procession enters. he comes, he comes! then there is a murmur more reverential than before among the crowd, who all rise and remain standing, with their bodies bent and their hands on their knees, inspired with deep devotion at the approach of the panchen rinpoche. he walks slowly to his place, sits down with crossed legs on a couple of cushions, and then only his face can be seen through the opening in the silken curtain. apparently he is rather a young man; on his head he wears a large yellow mitre, which, however, resembles a roman helmet or a french infantry helmet; his pontifical robe is of yellow silk, and in his hand he holds a rosary. at his right hand sits his younger brother, kung gushuk, the duke, our host, in a dress of red and yellow, and at the right hand of the latter we see three other secular lords in yellow. to the left of the tashi lama sits the minister of state, lobsang tsundo gyamtso, a little fat cardinal with a head like a billiard ball, and beside him the tutor of the tashi lama, yonsin rinpoche, and his deaf and dumb mother tashi lamo, a little woman with a shaven head and a red and yellow dress embroidered with gold--i should have taken her for a man if i had not been told who she was. in the semi-darkness behind them is a row of high lamas, all in yellow garments--their ordinary dress is red. it is truly an imposing scene. we seem to have before us the whole conclave of venerable cardinals of buddhistic catholicism. and this impression is not weakened by the way in which they move and speak. one can imagine how softly they speak to one another in the presence of his holiness; their movements are dignified and formal, slowly and gracefully they assume the sitting posture of buddha; their gestures are noble; when they converse, bending slowly towards one another, an air of genuine striking nobility pervades the whole picture without the slightest touch of anything that can be called vulgar. the crowd has seated itself again, but frequently pilgrims from far-distant lands stand up embued with religious awe, bow, fall on their knees, press their foreheads against the ground, and pay homage to the grand lama as to a god. my eyes frequently meet his; apparently he is extremely interested in his guests. before the commencement of the spectacle he had sent a lama to my garden to present me with a large _kadakh_, a long narrow piece of fine white silk, as a greeting of welcome and a polite token of esteem. now several monks came gently behind my chair; a table, or more correctly a stool, was set down, and a whole collection of brass bowls were placed on it, filled to overflowing with the finest mandarin oranges from sikkim, dried fruits from nepal, raisins from india, figs from si-ning-fu, sweetmeats from bhotan, dried peaches from baltistan, and tibetan cakes. and tea-cups of chinese porcelain were filled again and again with thick buttered tea. they said: "the panchen rinpoche begs you to partake of these." i immediately caught his eye, rose and bowed, and he nodded to me with a friendly smile. all the refreshments left over--and the quantity was not small--were given to my companions. [illustration: . view of tashi-lunpo. sketch by the author.] now the religious ceremonies begin. the tashi lama takes off his mitre and hands it to an acolyte. all the secular lords on the open platforms also take off their mushroom-shaped hats. two dancers with gruesome masks, in coloured silken dresses with wide open sleeves, come forth from the lower gallery, the curtain being drawn aside, and revolve in a slow dance over the quadrangle. then the grand lama is saluted by the eleven principal standards in tashi-lunpo; every idol has its standard, and every standard therefore represents a god of the copious lamaistic mythology, but only the standards of the eleven chief deities are brought out. the flag is square, but strips or ribands of a different colour protrude at right angles from the three free edges; there are white flags with blue strips, blue flags with red ribands, red with blue, yellow with red strips, etc. the flag is affixed in the usual way to a long painted staff, round which it is wrapped when a lama brings it out. he marches solemnly up, halts before the box of the tashi lama, holds out the staff horizontally with the assistance of a second lama, and unrolls the flag, and then the emblem of the god is raised with a forked stick to salute the grand lama. it is then lowered again, the flag is rolled up, and the staff is carried sloped on the shoulder of the bearer out through a gate beneath our balcony. the same ceremony is observed with all the standards, and as each is unfolded a subdued murmur of devotion rises from the assembly. after a short pause the trumpets sound again, and now appear some lamas with white masks and white robes, heralding a procession of monks, each of whom carries some article used in the ritual of buddhism, holy temple vessels, golden bowls and chalices, censers of gold swinging in their chains and emitting clouds of sweet-smelling incense. some of these monks appear in harness and accoutrements; three masked lamas almost collapse under the weight of their exceedingly costly vestments of red, blue, and yellow gold-embroidered silk. behind them six copper trumpets, feet long and bound with brass, are carried, and are so heavy that their sound-bells must be supported on the shoulders of young novices. they are followed by a group of flutists, and then come forty men in fanciful motley costly dresses, who bear drums held up vertically on carved poles, and beat them with drumsticks resembling a swan's neck. now come the cymbals clashing loudly and in regular time in the hands of monks clothed in red silk. nakchen, "the great black man," is the name of a dressed-up monk who bears a hand-bell. below, at the stone steps, the court is spread with a square of carpets. there the orchestra seats itself, the forty drums are held up parallel to one another, and likewise the trumpets, which are now allowed to slope down to the pavement. all the musicians wear yellow mitres somewhat like the mitre of the grand lama. three monks of high rank come out on the gallery, which is situated on the short side of the quadrangle immediately above the arena. they wear yellow vestments and yellow mitres, and ring from time to time brazen bells which they hold in their hands. each of them, i am told, is the superior of a thousand monks; only three are present, for the fourth is ill. tashi-lunpo has monks at the present time. [illustration: . street in tashi-lunpo, with lamas.] the curtain at the top of the stone staircase is opened and a masked figure, named argham, comes out with a bowl full of goat's blood in his hand. he holds it horizontally with outstretched arms while he executes a mystic dance; suddenly he pours the blood over the steps. with both arms extended, holding the bowl upside down, he continues his dance, while some serving brothers hurry up to wipe up the blood. undoubtedly this ceremony is a relic of the time when the original bon religion prevailed in tibet, before the indian monk padma sambhava in the eighth century a.d. laid the foundation stone of lamaism by introducing buddhism into tibet; for lamaism is only a corrupt form of pure buddhism, and under an outward varnish of buddhistic symbolism has incorporated a number of sivaistic elements, and has also retained the superstitions which in pre-buddhistic times found expression in wild fanatical devil dances, rites, and sacrifices. the object of these ceremonies was to exorcise, banish or propitiate the powerful demons which reign everywhere, in the air, on the earth, and in water, and whose only function is to plague, torture, and persecute the children of men. at that time the god of war and the demons were appeased by human sacrifices, and the ceremony i have just described is certainly a relic of these offerings. of course buddhism had a better prospect of becoming popular in tibet if as much as possible of the old religion were incorporated in the new. but the first command of the fundamental law of buddhism forbids to "quench the vital spark," to kill. this does not, however, prevent the monks from eating meat or making use of goat's blood in certain religious rites--the sheep and goats are killed by ordinary butchers, while the lamas themselves do not transgress the commandments of the law. bagcham is the name of a dancer in a frightful devil's mask; as he circles over the quadrangle, pieces of coloured cloth flutter about on all sides. he is followed by eleven masked lamas who execute the same movements. they are joined by a troop of new performers in coloured garments with necklaces, beads, and ornaments. they wear a square collar with a round hole in the middle, which is passed over the head, so that the collar rests on the shoulders and stands out horizontally when they dance. a great number of strips tied about the body swing out like the skirts of a ballet-dancer when the dancers spin round. they hold in their hands various religious objects and long light strips, ribands, and streamers. again the curtain parts asunder, and preceded by two flutists chöjal yum appears at the top of the steps, the impersonation of a female spirit, and with a trident in his hand performs a dance on the topmost step. lastly, lamas dance in hideous masks with large evil eyes and mephistophelian eyebrows, distorted features, and huge tusks; others represent mythical wild beasts, all equally terrible (illustrations , , ). at every new number the three high priests ring their bells, and the music continues without interruption, the discordant noise awakening a thundering echo from the stone façades of the narrow court. the drummers beat their instruments slowly and in strict time, accompanied by the clash of the cymbals, the weird, prolonged blasts of the trumpets, and the more agreeable notes of the flutes. but now and then the time is accelerated, the beats of the drum follow one another more and more closely, and the claps of the clashing basins pass into one continuous resonance. the musicians seem to stimulate one another, and there is a great crescendo; there is more than enough noise to deafen one, so it is useless to attempt to speak to one's neighbour. the dancing becomes more furious, and undoubtedly the fanatical spectacle makes a deep impression on the spectators. now and then a fanatic is overpowered by it, jumps up, and, turning towards the tashi lama, grabs at his head with his hands, falls forward with his hands and forehead on the ground, and repeats this obeisance thrice--he has a deified man before him. a greybeard from chang-tang, sitting in his fur coat just below our balcony, is unwearied in these observances, and is constantly jumping up to make his reverence to the grand lama; but once he slips on a piece of mandarin peel and makes a frightful contortion, to the great amusement of his neighbours. other pilgrims take from their girdles a small bag of rice or barley, and throw a pinch or two into the court. this is an offering to the temple, and is appropriated by the pigeons and sparrows. only the northern third of the quadrangle is required for the religious diabolical masquerade; the other two-thirds are left free for the poor of shigatse and its environs. there the crush is terrible, but now and then lictors, as they may be called, armed with whips and rods, clear a space. they strike right and left, and all the people bend their backs under the blows, but their interference seems only to increase the disorder. among the pilgrims on the platforms tea is distributed gratis by monks of low rank; they carry large brass-bound copper cans on the right shoulder, from which they fill the wooden cups held out by their guests. _panem et circenses!_ the monks know how to treat their lambs. what does it matter to them if they give a few yak-loads of brick tea once or twice a year, when they live exclusively at the expense of the people and from the peter's pence which flow continuously from the bags of pilgrims into the temple treasury? [illustration: . street in tashi-lunpo.] at length the lictors clear a space in the crowd below us, where a fire is lighted. two monks step forward and hold a large sheet of paper horizontally over the fire at as great a height as possible; on this paper is written down all the evil from which protection is desired during the year now commencing, and all the affairs in which a triumph is hoped for over the designs and influence of wicked demons. the paper also represents the past year with all its sufferings and all its sins. a lama walks up to the fire with a wand in one hand and a bowl in the other. he recites some formulæ of incantation, performs all kinds of mystical hocus pocus with his arms, and throws the contents of the bowl, some inflammable stuff, into the flames, which blaze up brightly and consume in a moment the paper, the passing year with its sins, and all the power of the demons. all the spectators rise and break out into prolonged shouts of rejoicing, for now evil is crushed and every one may rest in peace. the last number of the day's programme was a general dance of all the lamas in the courtyard. now the tashi lama rises and slowly retires from the scene of the festival, followed by his retinue. after his departure the pilgrims withdraw in perfect order, quietly and without crushing, and take their way down to shigatse in a black stream of humanity. when the last have disappeared, we look for our horses, accompanied by our new friends. the jugglery we had witnessed was in every respect brilliant, gorgeous, and splendid, and it is easy to imagine the feelings of humility such a performance must inspire in the mind of the simple pilgrim from the desolate mountains or the peaceful valleys. while the original signification of these dramatic masquerades and these mystic plays is the exorcising and expelling of inimical demons, they are in the hands of the clergy a means of retaining the credulous masses in the net of the church, and this is a condition of the existence both of the church and of the priests. nothing imposes on ignorance so thoroughly as fearful scenes from the demon world, and therefore devils and monsters play a prominent part in the public masquerades of the monasteries. with their help and by representations of the king of death, yama, and of restless wandering souls vainly seeking new forms of existence in the sequence of transmigrations, the monks terrify the multitude and render them meek and subservient, and show many a poor sinner what obstacles and what trials await him on the rough road to nirvana through the valley of the shadow of death. on our way back we returned the visit of my friend ma. his _yamen_ was built in the usual chinese style and was surrounded by a wall. i was invited to take my place on the seat of honour beside a small table, on which attentive servants placed tea, sweetmeats, and cigarettes. the whole room was full of chinamen, but ma was as amiable as before. lobsang tsering and tsaktserkan were waiting in my garden. they had brought a whole caravan of mules laden with _tsamba_, rice, meal, dried fruit, and barley for our horses--supplies sufficient for our whole party for a full month. they also handed me silver _tengas_ (barely shillings) wrapped in paper, with which, they believed, we should buy meat, for the tashi lama must have no hand in anything which involved the extinction of the vital spark. the envoys also said that his holiness expected me at nine o'clock the following morning, and that they would come to fetch me. but i was not to tell ma or any one else that the tashi lama was going to receive me. for the rest, i had only to say a word and all my wishes would be fulfilled. later in the evening a subordinate official presented himself with the information that no one would fetch me; i was to be at the great portal at nine o'clock--for the chinese might become suspicious. at night i took out of burroughs and wellcome's large medicine chest all the drugs which i thought we might want, and we packed them in labelled bags. the chest itself, of aluminium, and all its elegant tabloid boxes, bottles, cases, bandages, and instruments were rubbed and polished up till they shone like silver, and then wrapped in a large piece of yellow silk which muhamed isa had picked up in the bazaar, for it was next day to be my friendship's offering to the panchen rinpoche. [illustration: . the labrang, the palace of the tashi lama, to the right. in the foreground, a part of the court of ceremonies.] chapter xxv the tashi lama the th of february came, the day on which i was to be received by the holiest man in tibet. i therefore made myself as spruce as i had ever done for a ball in a british government house, and then, accompanied by the same men as to the performance, rode up to the main entrance to tashi-lunpo, where tsaktserkan, lobsang tsering, and some monks awaited us. in their company we ascended to the higher regions, through a labyrinth of gloomy lanes and dark narrow cloisters, to the labrang, where the tashi lama lives--the vatican, with its white façade, its large quaint windows, and its solid balconies standing high above this town of temple buildings (illustration ). our conductor leads us into cold dark rooms, up unusually steep staircases. the steps, in which the soles of the monks have worn deep hollows, are edged with iron, and the round bars of the balustrade are polished by innumerable hands. the steps are dark, and our friends warn us to mount slowly and cautiously. then there is light, and we are taken out on to a gallery, a roof, but only to plunge again into a maze of dark passages and flights of steps. i am asked to wait in a room with red cushions on the floor. before long we are informed that the man next in rank to the tashi lama, the honourable fat little lama, who holds the post of a minister of state, is ready to receive us. his audience chamber, or rather his private cell, is quite a small room, but from its single window he enjoys a beautiful view over the sacred town of shigatse and the rocky mountains of the neighbourhood. the room is fitted up with solid, unpretentious, and genuine lamaist luxury. red carpets lie on the floor, and the ceiling and walls are also red, that is, all that can be seen of them, for most of the walls are hidden by artistically carved cabinets with red lacquer, and decorated in colours and inlaid metal work. on these stand large silver _gaos_ containing images of the gods, and before them smaller ones of solid gold, between bowls with offerings or wicks burning with a dull flame in butter. other objects may be seen which the monks use in their services: bells, cymbals, holy water vessels, and a _dorche_, the thunderbolt, emblem of power, which resembles a sceptre. to the left, in a window niche, hangs a flag-like picture (_tanka_) of the first tashi lama, and to the right a similar portrait of the ecclesiastical prince sakya pandita. the venerable prelate sat cross-legged on a bench fixed against the wall and covered with red cushions, and before him stood a small, yellow, carved table with silken material inserted in the top. he beamed with fat, inward complacence and goodwill, like any other cardinal; his features were finely cut, and his eyes indicated great intelligence. when i entered he rose with a polite smile and invited me to be seated on a chair by the table, whereupon the inevitable tea was served. just as indispensable is it to exchange _kadakhs_ and presents. i gave him an engraved dagger from kashmir, and he presented to me a gilt idol--there is the difference between secular and ecclesiastical presents. we talked about an hour over one thing or another, and his eminence begged me to excuse the delay, but the panchen rinpoche was absorbed in meditation and occupied with his daily prayers, and might not be disturbed till he himself gave a sign. this moment came at length: a lama whispered to the cardinal that i was expected. we go still higher up smooth steep staircases to open landings, up more steps, higher and higher to the holiest of holies in the monastery of tashi-lunpo. the conversation is carried on in lower, more subdued tones, one dares no longer speak loud; small groups of lamas stand in the corridors and passages, silent as statues, and look at me as i pass by. lobsang tsering tells me in a whisper that we are now in the last antechamber, where i can make myself ready and put on the black shoes. here my servants are ordered to remain, except robert and muhamed isa. if i could have dispensed with interpreters his holiness would have seen me quite alone. we enter, not without feeling solemn. i make a deep bow at the door, and two more before i stand before him. the tashi lama is sitting on a bench in a window recess and has in front of him a small table with a tea-cup, a telescope, and some printed sheets. he is dressed as simply as an ordinary monk, wears a cerise costume of the usual style, coat, waistcoat, vest, and the long scarf which is thrown over the shoulder and wound round the body like a toga; between its folds peeps out a yellow under-vest with gold embroidery; both arms are bare and the head is uncovered. his complexion is fair, slightly inclining to yellow; he is somewhat below the middle height, is well proportioned, looks healthy, and at his twenty-fifth year, lately completed, has every prospect of attaining a good old age. in his small, soft, delicate hands he holds a rosary of red beads. his short-cropped hair is black, and there is scarcely any down on his upper lip; his lips are not thick and full like those of other tibetans, but thin and gracefully formed, and his eyes are of a chestnut-brown colour. nodding kindly, he gives me both his hands and invites me to sit in an arm-chair beside him. the apartment, in which he spends the greater part of the day, is astonishingly plain, quite a contrast to that of the cardinal in the lower regions. it is small and consists of two parts: the outer is a kind of roofless ante-room, exposed to all the winds of heaven, to the snow in winter and the pouring rain in autumn; the inner is raised a step, and is again separated by a division ending in a grille, behind which his bedroom is situated. there is not a single idol, no wall painting or other mural decoration, no furniture except what has been already mentioned, not a thread of carpet, only the bare stone floor--and through the window his melancholy and dreamy, but clear and open, glances wander over the golden temple roofs, over the town below them with its dirt and sinfulness, over the dreary mountains which bound his earthly horizon, and away through the azure-blue sky to a nirvana invisible to us, where his spirit will one day find rest. now he descended from his heaven and became a man for a moment. but all the time he preserved a wonderful calmness, a refined, amiable politeness and dignity, and spoke in a charmingly soft and subdued voice, modest, almost shy; he spoke quickly and in short sentences, but in a very low tone. what did we talk about? why, about all kinds of things in heaven and earth, beginning from his own religion, in the pantheon of which he himself takes the highest rank among living prelates, down to the yaks that roam wild over chang-tang. he displayed an alertness, an interest in everything, and an intelligence that surprised me in a tibetan. i have never been interviewed so thoroughly and with so much tact. firstly, he inquired if i had suffered much from the cold and hardships in chang-tang, and whether we had had great losses. then he hoped i would excuse the sorry entertainment i had met with; it was all owing to my having arrived quietly and unnoticed, and no one knew whether i was the man who was expected and of whose probable arrival information had been received from india. but now everything possible should be done for my welfare and convenience, and he wished and hoped that i should carry back with me a pleasant remembrance of his country. then followed inquiries about my name, my age, my caravan, the routes by which i had come; my country, its size and population, its position with regard to russia and england; whether sweden was dependent on a neighbouring country or had a king of its own; the best way to travel to sweden, how long it took to travel there, and what season was the most suitable--just as if he intended to return my visit. then he asked about the various european countries and their rulers, their relative power and extent; about the war between russia and japan, about the great naval battles and the armoured vessels which had sunk; the effect the result of the war would have on eastern asia; about the emperor of japan and the emperor of china--apparently he had the greatest respect for the latter. he asked what countries i had visited, and whether i had seen much of india, where he had been so well received a year ago. he spoke with pleasure of his impressions of india, of the large cities with their fine buildings, of the indian army, the railways, the splendour and wealth everywhere apparent, and the hospitality shown him by the lord sahib (the viceroy). "promise me to greet the lord sahib from me when you write, and tell him that i still think of his kindness, and greet lord kitchener;" and then he showed me a photograph with the autograph of the great general. he was particularly pleased at having been able to visit the holy places he knew so well from descriptions and pictures, which were connected with the great founder of his religion, buddha, especially buddh gaya in magadha, where prince sarvarthasidda, the son of buddha, had passed six years in solitude and meditation, overcome mâra, the tempter, the ruler of the world of lust, and had attained to perfect wisdom. to the tashi lama, then, the journey to india had been of the nature of a pilgrimage, though from the english point of view the invitation had been rather connected with political considerations. it was, of course, important to the english in india to have a neighbour on their northern frontier on whose faith and friendship they could rely in unsettled times. as long ago as the year the great warren hastings had sent bogle as ambassador to the third tashi lama, to obtain information about the country, and, if possible, to establish commercial relations. and in he had sent turner to the fourth tashi lama. now, years later, the sixth tashi lama had been invited to visit india himself, that he might observe with his own eyes the wealth, might, and prestige of the english. no efforts were spared to make a lasting impression on the influential ecclesiastical prince. later events have proved that this project has failed. the journey of the tashi lama to india met with great opposition in tibet, and gave rise to much suspicion. and great was the joy when he returned in safety; for the church could not afford to lose, perhaps, the tashi lama also, when the dalai lama had disappeared from the country. what would become of the re-incarnation when no one knew where the two popes were dwelling? then he turned the conversation to the european powers, and thought that europe was a singular mosaic of states. he brought out a picture showing all the more powerful supreme rulers of the earth. under each portrait the name and country were written in tibetan characters. he put many questions about each monarch, and showed the liveliest interest in their fortunes--he who is more powerful than all the kings of the world, for he rules over the faith and the souls of men from the kalmucks on the volga to the buryats on lake baikal, from the shores of the arctic ocean to the burning sun of india. i am not the first european whom tubden chöki nima gelég namgyal, the sixth tashi lama, has received in the labrang at tashi-lunpo. after younghusband's expedition, major w. f. o'connor was admitted to an audience in the autumn of as representative of the indian government, and on this occasion he was accompanied by four officers of the gartok mission, major ryder, captains rawling and wood, and lieutenant bailey. o'connor, who knows the tibetan language, was younghusband's interpreter in lhasa and the tashi lama's in india, and in his capacity as british trade agent in gyangtse had frequently occasion to negotiate with the pope in tashi-lunpo. also, immediately after his return home in , the tashi lama received captain fitzgerald, lord kitchener's aide-de-camp, and mr. david fraser. [illustration: . interior of the palace of the tashi lama. the little corner near the two windows is the place where tashi lama passes his free time.] of the two supreme pontiffs of the yellow-caps köppen says: "of these the panchen rinpoche at tashi-lunpo is usually supposed to be an incarnation of the dhyani buddha of the present age of the world, amitabha, but also an incarnation of the bodhisattvas, manjusri and vajrapani, and lastly almost as a re-birth of the reformer tsong kapa, the founder of the yellow-caps; the dalai lama, on the other hand, is always held to be a re-incarnation of the bodhisattva avalokiteshvara (padmapani)...." in the same work the functions of teacher and king are divided between the two lamaist popes, the former being especially assigned to the panchen, the latter to the dalai lama. and this is also signified by the titles of the two potentates, for the former is called panchen rinpoche, "the great precious teacher," and the latter gyalpo rinpoche, "the precious king." in consequence of this idea the dalai lama has at length become the temporal ruler of the greater part of tibet, though he owes his position more to the situation and historical connections of his capital than to this scholastic theory of sanctity, just as the vicar of christ on the seven hills owes his supremacy to the importance of the city of rome. the great teacher (the tashi lama) has therefore for the present to content himself with a comparatively small territory, combined with a reputation for sanctity and omniscience, and the privilege of acting as tutor and guardian to an infant dalai lama. and waddell says of the respective spheres of the two popes: "the tashi-lunpo grand lamas are considered to be, if possible, holier even than those of lhasa, as they are less contaminated with temporal government and worldly politics and more famous for their learning." i shall show later that this relation between the two lamaist popes underwent great modifications in favour of the tashi lama during the period of my last journey. the expectations of the english, that they would gain an influence in tibet through the friendship of the tashi lama, were to a certain extent justified; but they had not taken into consideration that the temporal power lost by the dalai lama by no means passed over to the tashi lama, whose temporal authority was confined within the boundaries of the province chang, and even there was limited by the universal supremacy of china. the dalai lama accordingly had much to lose, the tashi lama little or nothing. the dalai lama was an ambitious intriguer, who by his incautious policy provoked the offensive measures of lord curzon so disastrous for tibet, and thereby lost almost everything. and if the tashi lama had already enjoyed a greater reputation for holiness and learning than his colleague in lhasa, his renown and his spiritual influence were much enhanced when the result of the war proved that the fine promises of the dalai lama were all lies and humbug, and only tended to secure more firmly the heavy yoke of the chinese on the necks of the tibetans. shortly before my visit the tashi lama had had an opportunity of reminding the lamaist hierarchy of his illustrious existence. when he reached the age of twenty-five he sent presents of money to all the monasteries of tibet, inviting all the monks to a great banquet in their own convents at his expense; a special embassy of monks was despatched to ladak, and others to lhasa, sekiya, tashi-gembe, and other places. the twenty-fifth anniversary of his birth was celebrated throughout the lamaist world. but we will return to the audience. lamas, walking on their toes and silent as phantoms, handed us tea and fruits continually. the tashi lama drank a sip from his plain cup with me, as though to show that he did not consider himself too holy to sit at table with an unbeliever. some lamas who stood in the room at a distance were now and then dismissed by a wave of the hand when he wished to put some question he did not want them to hear. this was particularly the case when he requested me not to let the chinese know that he had entertained me, though it could hardly escape their penetration. [illustration: . view of a part of tashi-lunpo, with the faÇade of a mausoleum of a grand lama.] i seized the opportunity to beg for certain favours. i asked permission to photograph him. oh, certainly, i might come again with my camera, if i liked. i asked to be allowed to see the whole of tashi-lunpo, and to draw and photograph in the cloister town at my pleasure. "yes, by all means; i have already ordered the lamas to show you everything." and, finally, i begged for a passport for future journeys in his country, for an official of the labrang, and some reliable men as escort. this, too, was granted me, and all was to be in order when i had fixed the day of my departure. all these promises were fulfilled to the smallest detail, and if china had not just at this time seized tibet more tightly than ever in its dragon's claws, the tashi lama would certainly have been powerful enough to throw every door open to me. but at any rate his friendship and favour were an excellent recommendation in all my subsequent journeys, and extricated me from many a difficult situation. pilgrims from all parts of tibet had seen with their own eyes how well i was received. they had boundless respect for the tashi lama, reposed in him the most sincere confidence, and reasoned as follows: "whoever this stranger may be, he must be an eminent lama in his own country, or the panchen rinpoche would never have treated him as his equal." and then these pilgrims returned to their black tents in distant provinces and related to others what they had seen, and when we arrived with our small caravan all knew who we were. eighteen months later it came about that chiefs and monks said: "bombo chimbo, we know that you are a friend of the tashi lama, and we are at your service." when we had conversed for two hours, i made a move to leave him, but the tashi lama pushed me back on to the chair and said: "no, stay a little longer." and this was repeated till quite three hours had passed. how many millions of believers would have given years of their lives for such a privilege! the pilgrims who had travelled hundreds of miles to get a sight of him must be content with a nod of the head and a blessing from a distance. now was the time to present my offering. the elegant english medicine chest was taken out of its silk cloth, opened and exhibited, and excited his great admiration and lively interest--everything must be explained to him. the hypodermic syringe in its tasteful aluminium case with all its belongings especially delighted him. two monks of the medical faculty were sent for several days running to our camp to write down in tibetan the contents of the various tabloid boxes and the use of the medicines. but i warned them, as well as the tashi lama, against making a trial of their effect before consulting major o'connor's physician in gyangtse. there was not much danger, however, for the lamas believe that their medical knowledge is much superior to that of europeans. wonderful, never-to-be-forgotten tashi lama! never has any man made so deep and ineffaceable impression on me. not as a divinity in human form, but as a man, who in goodness of heart, innocence, and purity approaches as near as possible to perfection. i shall never forget his expression: it displayed unbounded kindness, humility, and philanthropy; and i have never seen such a smile, a mouth so delicately formed, so noble a countenance. his smile never left him: he smiled like a sleeper dreaming of something beautiful and desirable, and whenever our eyes met, his smile grew broader, and he nodded kindly and amiably, as much as to say: "trust in my friendship implicitly, for my intentions are good towards all men." the incarnation of amitabha! the earthly shell in which the soul of amitabha lives on through time! therefore a deity full of supernatural wisdom and omniscience. the tibetans believe that he knows not only what is and has been, but also all that is to come. can he be amitabha himself? this much is certain, that he is a very extraordinary man, a singular, unique, and incomparable man. i told him that i thought myself fortunate to have seen him, and that i should never forget the hours i had spent in his company; and he replied that he should be very pleased if i came back again. [illustration: . faÇade of the mausoleum of the first tashi lama. the court of ceremonies in the foreground.] after i had thanked him once more for his generous hospitality and kindness, he called some lamas and ordered them to show me the temples. then he gave me both his hands, and followed me with his wonderful smile as i bowed myself out. his friendly eyes did not leave me till i had passed through the door leading into the ante-chamber. at the foot of the first staircase several lamas were waiting; they smiled in silence, and with wide-opened eyes, no doubt thinking that so long an audience was an unusual favour. henceforth they all treated me with greater respect, and it was evident that very evening that the whole bazaar and all the town of shigatse knew that i had spent three hours with the holy one. for my part i could hardly think of anything else but the tashi lama and the powerful impression he had made on me. i left the labrang, his cloister palace, intoxicated and bewitched by his personality. this one day was worth many days in tibet, and i felt that i had now beheld what was most remarkable in the country, scarcely surpassed by the massive mountains with their snow-capped summits, which from remote periods have looked down on the births and deaths of generations in the valleys which wind about their feet. during our sojourn in shigatse we made many friends among the monks of tashi-lunpo, who gave us right willingly all the elucidations we asked for. one told us that a tashi lama, when he feels the approach of death, must in accordance with the directions of the holy law remain in a sitting position, with his legs tucked under him and his hands palms upwards in his lap, for he must die in the same attitude as the meditating buddha. his last moments are soothed by a number of monks who surround him on all sides, fill the air with the murmur of their prayers, and continually prostrate themselves with their hands and foreheads on the ground, paying divine honours to him and his departing spirit. when he has lost consciousness, has no longer any control over his body, and becomes limp, he is held up, and when life has flown he is so placed that he grows rigid in the orthodox position. the corpse is clothed in priestly vestments, all new and never worn before, and then the tall mitre is placed on his head. prayers for the dead are recited, mystic rites are performed, and the corpse is placed as quickly as possible, still in a sitting posture, in a metal vessel which is filled with salt and hermetically sealed. then his mortuary chapel must be prepared, and as this must be erected in a massive stone building, and be decorated within with great art and expense, it may be a long time before his dust is finally laid to rest. the cost is borne by the pilgrims and devotees of the country, and in consequence of his death the peter's pence flow in more plentifully than ever, for it is a good deed to contribute to the interment of a tashi lama. such liberality secures privileges to the donor in his soul's wanderings. after the decease, amitabha clothes himself in the body of a newly born boy, and the difficulty is to discover where this boy is. therefore letters are sent to all parts of tibet and to all the adjoining lamaist countries, in which inquiries are made whether a child of the male sex, endowed with extraordinary spiritual gifts, has appeared. numerous replies come in. after one after another has been rejected, the boy must certainly be among the remainder, and the right one has to be found out. the names of the boys are written on strips of paper, which are rolled up and deposited in a covered bowl, and this is placed before the image of one of the chief gods, probably before amitabha or tsong kapa, whereupon high cardinals offer up prayers before the bowl, recite appropriate texts from the holy scriptures, present gifts to the gods, burn incense and perform other ceremonies, and then the cover is removed, and the first ticket taken out gives the name of the new panchen rinpoche. the decision of this lottery must, however, be ratified by the dalai lama before it can have legal force, and from him the new pontiff, an innocent child, receives his consecration. if the dalai lama is absent, or is himself a minor, this is conferred by a conclave of the higher priests. [illustration: , . interiors of two mausoleums of grand lamas in tashi lunpo. sketches by the author.] chapter xxvi the graves of the pontiffs volumes would be required in which to describe a monastery such as tashi-lunpo in all its details, its intricate conglomeration of stone buildings connected with one another by passages, corridors, staircases, and terraces, or separated by narrow deep lanes or small open squares; its many temple halls with an innumerable host of images; its monks' cells, lecture halls, mortuary chapels, kitchens, factories, warehouses for provisions and materials; its complicated organization in spiritual and temporal affairs, its festivals and ceremonies. such a description could only be compiled by an intimate acquaintance with the lamaist hierarchy and church, and this knowledge could only be attained by the ardent study of a whole lifetime; for those who would penetrate deeply into the mysteries of lamaism must gain a thorough knowledge of buddhism and its relations to brahminism and hinduism, and understand the influence which sivaism has exerted on the religion of the tibetans, and must be familiar with the elements of the ancient bon religion and its fetichism and shamanism, which have crept in and corrupted the lamaistic form of buddhism. such a task lies beyond the scope of this work for many reasons, not least because i have only a dim conception of the essentials of lamaism.[ ] i shall therefore content myself with depicting the system from its picturesque side, and describing the outward ordinances i had an opportunity of observing personally. i shall write the names phonetically, without all the silent consonants which render a conscientious translation unintelligible to those who have not devoted much time to the study of the tibetan language. [illustration: . the kanjur-lhakang in tashi-lunpo. sketch by the author.] tashi-lunpo must not be conceived as a single vast block of buildings, but as a cloister town within an enclosing wall, a town of at least a hundred separate houses, very irregularly built and grouped, joined together in rows divided by narrow lanes (illustration ). on the south side of the tsangpo a rocky spur projects from the mountains eastwards into the valley of the nyang-chu; below and to the east of this cliff lies shigatse in the broad valley on the northern, left bank of the river, while the monastery is built on the lower part of the southern slope of the ridge, and therefore faces south. looking from the plain to the south of the monastery at this conglomeration of white houses, one notices at once some striking features which facilitate the orientation. on the extreme right is a high thick wall without windows, from the top of which large pictures are exposed to view during certain summer festivals. a little to the left of it, the grand white façade of the labrang, with its solid, simple, and tasteful architecture, rises above all the cloister town, and in front of and below the labrang five buildings, quite alike in appearance, catch the eye--massive towers with golden roofs in the chinese style. they form a line running from west to east, and are the mausoleums of the five earlier tashi lamas. the remaining space within the wall around and below them is occupied by all the other houses, and wherever you stand on their flat roofs the first and the last objects you see are these mausoleums; for tashi-lunpo has also a system of aerial streets and places, as they may be called, that is, the roofs protected by low parapets. in the deep lanes one is quite unable to find the way unless one is very familiar with them, for only the nearest high walls can be seen, consisting either of an unbroken smooth surface or interrupted by large long windows in black frames. the walls all slope a little inwards, so that all the lanes between the houses are narrowest at the bottom. the pavement is irregular, worn, and smooth; some lanes and open squares are not paved at all. all these constructions are solidly and firmly built, and planned so as to defy time as well as the rude climate of tibet. tashi-lunpo was founded in the year a.d. by ge-dun-dup, the nephew of tsong kapa, who in the year was installed as grand lama of the gelugpa sect, though he did not yet bear the title of dalai lama. the present grand lama of lhasa, ngavang lobsang tubden gyamtso, who has now held the office for thirty-four years, is the thirteenth in succession. this number is not to be compared with the long list of roman popes. the first panchen rinpoche of tashi-lunpo was named panchen lobsang chöki gyaltsan, and held the dignity of pope from to , or ninety-three years--certainly a world record. his mortuary chapel, chukang-sher, or the east tomb, is the one to which we shall first direct our steps. its façade faces the rectangular court where the ceremonies are performed, its portal stands at a level with the uppermost platform for spectators, and above the door hang large white awnings beneath a symbolic decoration--a wheel between two gilded stags. the roof is made of gilded copper sheeting, and is divided into two sections by a platform with a parapet (illustration ). the interior of the mausoleum is a cubical room, illuminated only by the daylight, which enters through the portal and mingles effectively with the pale gleam of the butter-fed wicks in a row of silver saucers and brazen bowls. the middle bowl is larger than the others, is like a caldron, and has a cover with a round hole through which a sacrificial flame rises from the melting butter. before this cordon of butter lamps, on a rather higher super-altar, stand a row of pyramidal figures of baked paste, painted in front with various colours and representing different lamaistic symbols. behind them is a row of bowls and chalices of solid gold and silver, donations of wealthy pilgrims. they contain pure water, meal, barley, rice, and other edible offerings. the tomb itself, in the interior, is a _chhorten_ in the form of a pyramid with steps, ledges, and cornices, and may be to feet high. all the front is decorated with gold and silver in arabesques and other designs, and is studded with precious stones. at the very top stands a _gao_, a yard high, somewhat like a sentry-box, with a front of lotus leaves, and in it sits a statue of the deceased wearing the usual mitre, with which tsong kapa is always represented, and of which we saw so many specimens during the festival. a number of long silken _kadakhs_ have been placed in the uplifted hands of the statue, and hang down over the monument in long festoons and streamers. this is also draped with a multitude of _tankas_, temple banners which are painted in lhasa and tashi-lunpo, and represent scenes from the life of the founder of the religion and of the church fathers. among and behind them also hang standards and pennants of coloured cloth narrowing to a point at the bottom, and all are old, dusty, and dingy (illustrations , ). this _chhorten_ with its richly decorated front and its motley surroundings stands alone in the cubical chapel, and a narrow, pitch-dark passage runs round it; at the back, by the light of a paper lantern, the solid foundation of masonry, on which the monument rests, may be seen. the pilgrims circle round it, the more times the better, and the orthodox "gelugpa," members of the "sect of virtue," always walk in the direction of the hands of a watch, that is, they turn on entering to the left. the monks, who act as guides, insist that we also shall conform to this regulation. now we cross again the court of ceremonies, and are conducted slowly through narrow corridors to a somewhat lighter gallery, where we can look down into a _dukang_, a hall where the high office is performed five times a day. red mattresses, much the worse for wear, lie in rows on the smooth stone floor, on which the monks sit cross-legged during the mass. in the middle of the shorter side stands a papal throne, with back and arms, and covered with yellow silk--it is the seat of the grand lama, who on certain occasions teaches and preaches here. [illustration: . portal of the mausoleum of the third tashi lama in tashi-lunpo. sketch by the author.] then we are led to the yalloa-champa, a holy apartment with a curtain formed of a network of iron rings, through which we catch a glimpse of some dark idols and a quantity of chinese porcelain bowls. illuminated by butter lamps and draped with long silken cloths, here stands a figure of dolma, one of the two wives of srong tsan ganpo, the first tibetan king, both very popular in tibet, and immortalized in most lama temples. it is said of the statue here that it once exchanged words of wisdom with a monk. in another compartment we find tsong kapa's statue veiled in silken draperies, and also a figure of the second tashi lama, the panchen lobsang yishe. the library is called kanjur-lhakang, and here the bible of the tibetans in to folios, the kanjur, is kept, studied, and explained. it contains a collection of canonical works which were translated from the sanscrit originals in the ninth century. the hall is as dark as a subterranean crypt, its red-painted wooden pillars are hung with unframed pictures, _tankas_, painted with minute artistic detail, and on the walls also a host of gods are depicted in colours. at the upper, shorter side is a row of altars, with images of gods in niches, and figures of tashi lamas and other great priests. before these, too, butter lamps are burning, and smooth bright brazen bowls are filled to the brim with offerings. the illumination is scanty and mystical as everywhere in tashi-lunpo; it seems as though the monks needed darkness to strengthen their faith in the incredible and supernatural literature that they read and study here (illustration ). proceeding westwards along the lane which runs in front of the mausoleums, we look into the monument of the second supreme pontiff and then into that of the third. they were named panchen lobsang yishe ( - ) and panchen lobsang palden yishe ( - ). the mausoleums are built after the pattern of the one already described, but between the entrance pillars of the third hangs a shield bearing the name of the emperor kien lung in raised characters. köppen gives in his book some interesting information about the relations of the great manchu emperor with this tashi lama. kien lung ( - ) sent many letters to the grand lama from the year inviting him to come to pekin, but the latter suspected treachery and made all kinds of excuses. but the emperor was so persistent that at length in july of the year the prelate had to set out. after a journey of three months he reached the monastery kum-bum. wherever the holy caravan passed crowds of pilgrims collected to worship the grand lama and offer him presents. he passed the winter at kum-bum, and made daily several thousand impressions of his hand on paper, which were well paid for as relics. one rich chief alone is said to have presented him with horses, mules, camels, pieces of brocade, and , shillings in silver. escorted by princes, governors, officials, and soldiers, and also by the chief court lama of the emperor, chancha khutukhtu, he reached, after a further journey of two months, kien lung's summer residence, where he was received with magnificent pomp and state and brilliant fêtes. the son of heaven was pleased to allow himself to be instructed by the holy man in the truths of religion. while the emperor was visiting the tombs of his ancestors in mukden, the tashi lama made his triumphal entry into pekin, where all, from the imperial princes to the mob in the streets, wished to see him and receive his blessing. even the imperial favourites insisted obstinately on seeing his holiness, on which occasion he sat dumb and motionless behind a transparent curtain, casting down his eyes so as not to be polluted by the sight of beautiful women. [illustration: . the namgyal-lhakang with the figure of tsong kapa, in tashi-lunpo. water-colour sketch by the author.] but all this worldly glory came to a sudden and deplorable end. the tashi lama fell ill and died, and it was affirmed that the powerful emperor had caused him to be poisoned, because he suspected him of a design to free himself from the supremacy of china with the help of the governor-general of india; for it was to this third tashi lama that warren hastings had sent bogle as ambassador six years previously. if our friend, the present tashi lama, had thought of this circumstance he would perhaps have preferred to omit his visit to india. the emperor pretended to be inconsolable, had the body embalmed, and masses said for three months over the golden sarcophagus, and then the body was carried on men's shoulders all the way to tashi-lunpo, the journey lasting seven months, and was there deposited in the splendid mausoleum to which we paid a flying visit (illustration ). our next visit is to the so-called namgyal-lhakang, the temple of tsong kapa, a large pillared hall with a huge statue of the reformer; before it and its companion images stand the usual battery of lamps, sacred vessels, and lamaistic emblems. the temple watchman, housed in a small recess in the entrance hall, is a jovial septuagenarian who has lived sixteen years in mongolia, and always comes out to inquire after my health when i pass the temple of tsong kapa on my way from or to the western buildings of tashi-lunpo (illustrations , ). tsong kapa's name is as famous and as highly revered in the lamaistic church as that of buddha himself: i cannot recall to mind that his statue is absent in one of the many temples i have visited in tibet. he was born in amdo in the year , and of course his birth was attended by all kinds of supernatural circumstances. at the age of three years he decided to retire from the world, and therefore his mother cut off his hair, which became the roots of the famous miraculous tree in kum-bum (the temple of the "hundred thousand statues"), on the leaves of which father huc read with his own eyes holy inscriptions. unfortunately my own visit to kum-bum was in the winter of when the holy tree was leafless. after a thorough course of study tsong kapa formed the resolution of reforming the dissolute and corrupted lamaism, and in several public conferences he silenced, like luther, all his opponents. the number of his followers rapidly increased, and in the year he founded the monastery galdan, near lhasa, becoming its first abbot, and subsequently the equally large and famous monasteries brebung and sera. tsong kapa introduced celibacy among the monks of his sect, which he called "gelugpa," the sect of virtue, and whose badge was the yellow cap; for yellow was the sacred colour of the old buddhist monks. among other precepts he enunciated was the regulation that the virtuous monks should retreat into solitude at certain times, to give themselves up to meditation and study, and prepare themselves for disputations. at the present day the yellow-caps are much more numerous in tibet than the red-caps. tsong kapa died in the year , and lies buried in galdan, where his sarcophagus or _chhorten_ stands in the open air. he is regarded as an incarnation of amitabha, and at the same time of manjusri and vajrapani, and he still lives on, therefore, in the person of our friend the present tashi lama, after living in the other five tashi lamas in succession, whose graves we have just visited. no wonder, then, that he is in exceptionally high repute in tashi-lunpo. as we were sitting before the statue, contemplating tsong kapa's kind smiling features under the usual pointed mitre, young lamas appeared with fruits, sweetmeats, and tea, and with greetings from the tashi lama, who hoped i would not overtire myself. some monks sat by the wall in the semi-darkness reading aloud from their holy scriptures, which lay before them on small stools; they held in the hand a _dorche_, the symbol of power, and a bell which they rang from time to time (illustration ). when we again went out into the sunshine the indian elephant of the tashi lama was taking exercise in the lane; he is the only one of his species in the whole country, and is said to be a present from a wealthy merchant, who brought him from siliguri. the fourth tashi lama, panchen tenbe nima ( - ) has also a mausoleum, similar to those of his predecessors. at either side of the entrance are seen on the walls of the ante-chamber painted portraits, double life size, of the "four great kings," namböse, yukorshung, pagyepo, and chenmigsang, whose duty it is to ward off the demons and prevent them from disturbing the peace of the temple. they are painted in staring colours and have a hideous appearance, are armed with sword, bow, and spear, and surrounded by a confusion of clouds, waves and tongues of flame, tigers, dragons, and other wild beasts. these four figures are hardly ever absent from the entrance to a temple in tibet, and one of these four guardian kings is represented in relief on each of the four sides of the five mausoleums. [illustration: . reading lama with dorche (thunderbolt) and drilbu (prayer-bell).] [illustration: . lama with prayer drum. sketches by the author.] our guides told us that this mausoleum was erected the same year in which the fourth tashi lama died. on either side of the chapel proper is a smaller shrine, to the left the yamiyang-lhakang, with several images, and an altar front decorated with gilded sphinxes having red wings on the back, nape of the neck, and paws. on the right stands the galdan-lhakang, with an image of tsong kapa projecting from the petals of a lotus flower, which indicates his heavenly origin. lastly, we turn our steps to the chapel in which the fifth tashi lama, panchen tenbe vangchuk ( - ) sleeps his last sleep. as this mausoleum is only about twenty years old, it looks fresher and cleaner than the others, and is particularly richly and gorgeously decorated without and within. the front of the _chhorten_ glitters with gold, turquoise, and coral. a glass candelabrum from india looks out of place amid the pure lamaist convent style, as also some common balls of blue glass and looking-glass--cheap wares, such as are seen in country gardens and in front of village inns. they hang from a ledge in front of the sarcophagus receptacle. on the altar stand the usual votive vessels, many of them strikingly elegant and tasteful. a large bowl on a tall foot is of gold, and contains a burning wick. on the right, on nails, hang simple gifts of poor pilgrims--cheap _kadakhs_ like gauze bandages, bangles, necklaces, amulet cases, rosaries--all of the cheapest kind, and all presents from pilgrims who, carried away by their enthusiasm, offered up the insignificant ornaments they happened to be wearing. here we see the impression of a child's foot on a tablet of stone in a red and yellow frame; a full description in raised letters informs us that it is the print of the foot of the present grand lama when he was a child six months old. to this tomb gifts flow more profusely than to the others, for there are still many people living who remember the deceased. the first four tombs were secured by many solid complicated locks, were opened to admit us, and were closed again when we left. but the chapel of the fifth grand lama stood open to the public, and a string of pilgrims passed to and from it. the monks accompanying us wished to drive them away, but i would not suffer them to be disturbed; it was, moreover, interesting to observe their worship for a while. murmuring "om mani padme hum," they stand with bent head before the sepulchral monument, fall on their knees, let their hands slide forward over the stone floor until they lie full-length, touching the ground with their foreheads; then they get up and repeat this gymnastic feat again and again. afterwards they bow before the idols, lay a handful of rice or meal in the offerings bowls, and go round the dark passage about the monument. in each of these monuments the grand lama is interred at the top, in the pyramid behind his own image. from the street in front of the mausoleums you ascend some stone steps to a portal which gives access to a paved forecourt surrounded by a gallery resting on wooden pillars. within the pillars the walls are adorned with frescoes representing smiling gods and dancing goddesses like nymphs and odalisks, historical and legendary personages, wild animals, allegorical figures, and the circular disc which betokens the universe with the worlds of the gods, men, and devils. the walls in the forecourt of the fifth tomb were remarkable for the fresh bright colours of their bold effective decoration, while those in the others had suffered from the action of time, and in parts were so much obliterated that they were almost past restoration. when age has set its mark equally on the whole painted surface the picture gains in beauty, for its colours are more subdued and less crude, but the worst is, that frequently the whole decoration has fallen off. a large bronze bell hangs in front of each mausoleum. [illustration: . entrance to the tomb of the fifth tashi-lama in tashi-lunpo. water-colour sketch by the author.] the outer courts are so small that the elegant portals cannot exhibit their full beauty; they are too near, and they are seen much foreshortened. from the outer court of the fifth tomb a wooden staircase leads up to the entrance hall; the staircase consists of three divisions, and has therefore four banisters, the two in the middle being closed at the top and bottom by ropes. the middle steps may only be used by the tashi lama himself, while those at either side are free to tom, dick, and harry, and therefore are much worn--almost hollowed out. when the visitor reaches the top of the staircase, he has the door of the mausoleum in front of him, and to the right and left the short sides of the entrance hall, each with a figure of one of the four spiritual kings, while the two others are painted on the wall at either side of the massive door-posts. the entrance hall opens on the forecourt, and its richly carved lintel and beams are supported by two red polygonal wooden pillars with carved and painted elongated capitals. before the door hangs heavy drapery of a coarse pattern. the very massive heavy panels of the door are lacquered dark brick-red, shine like metal, and are ornamented with mountings, shield-shaped plaques, and rings of yellow brass partly blackened with age. a pair of tassels hang from the rings of the shields. when the two doors are opened the mysterious gloom of the sepulchral chamber and the flickering lamps are exposed to view (illustrations , ). our first inspection of tashi-lunpo was now ended, and, satiated with strange impressions, we betook ourselves in the twilight to our tents in kung gushuk's garden. darkness fell sooner than usual, for a storm was gathering in the west, and it came down on us before we reached our camp. footnote: [ ] i would especially recommend the following works to those who desire to make a thorough study of lamaism: köppen's _die lamaistische hierarchie und kirche_; waddell's _the buddhism of tibet_; and grünwedel's _mythologie des buddhismus in tibet und in der mongolei_. i have borrowed much of the historical and ritualistic information in the following pages from these works. chapter xxvii popular amusements of the tibetans the credulous people at whose expense the monks live in laziness--and live well--are not satisfied with religious spectacles alone, which minister only to their spiritual needs; they must also be amused with profane exhibitions, which are more congenial to their lower instincts, and are more adapted to stimulate the senses. on february an exhibition of this kind was to take place on the plain outside the town of shigatse, and i and my people were invited. we mounted our horses in good time and rode northwards through the small town, which has not more than houses--towns in tibet are few and insignificant. the houses are white, with a black or red band at the top; with few exceptions they are only one storey high; the roof is almost always flat and guarded by a parapet; the windows and doors are in the same style as those of the monastery. from the street you enter into a yard where generally a large savage dog is chained. the roofs are adorned with a forest of bundles of twigs and rods hung with prayer streamers in all the colours of the rainbow; their object is to drive away devils. between the irregular lines of houses run narrow lanes and roads, where black swine wallow among the discarded refuse, dead dogs lie about, and stinking puddles stagnate; and we also pass open squares, sometimes with ponds. [illustration: . staircase to the mausoleum of the fifth tashi lama in tashi-lunpo. sketch by the author.] there is something uniformly dull about the whole town, in vivid, humiliating contrast to the dzong (illustration ), the castle proudly enthroned on its rock, and the golden temple roofs of tashi-lunpo at the foot of the mountain. the ground is yellow dust, and here and there we pass abrupt terraces of löss; dust whirled up by the wind lies on all the houses and roads. a black, continuous procession of pleasure-seekers streams out to the great plain on the north-east of the dzong; the farther we go the thicker it grows; most are on foot--men with prayer mills and tobacco pipes, women with round red aureoles at the neck and crying children in their arms, boys, beggars, monks, and all the pilgrims from neighbouring countries. here and there rides a fine gentleman with one or more attendants, while hawkers transport dried fruit and sweetmeats on mules to sell among the people. arrived at the show-ground, we leave our horses in charge of rabsang, and watch with keen interest the curious festive scene presented to our sight. it is a sea of human beings, thousands and thousands of tibetans and travelling strangers in varied costumes, any one of whom is a subject worthy of an artist's brush. before us, to the east, we have the gardens of the villages at the foot of the mountains in the nyang-chu valley, and behind us stretches a whole town of blue-and-white tents with spectators of more or less importance, and in the best position stands a blue-and-white tent open towards the show-ground--there sit, cross-legged, on soft rugs, the officials of the dzong in yellow raiment, solemn as statues of buddha, and take refreshments now and again. all these tents rise like islands above the sea of heads. right through the crowd from north to south runs a race-course, only or feet broad, and flanked on both sides by ridges of earth a foot high. the ground slopes down from the canvas town to the course, and the spectators collected here, ourselves among the number, have seated themselves in groups; but on the east side, where the ground is level, they remain standing. and here the crowd is separated into three divisions by two broad clear lanes. at the end, close to the race-course, two targets are erected, consisting of round discs suspended from poles with a white and a black ring, and a red spot in the middle. the lanes are kept clear lest any one should be hurt during the shooting. policemen in red-and-white coats with yellow hats, and pigtails both in front and behind, keep the people in order; the pigtail swings backwards and forwards, while a rope's end is in constant use to drive too inquisitive spectators off the course. two of these policemen are attached to me, to keep me a clear view, but they cause me more annoyance than satisfaction, for i have constantly to restrain them when they would strike half-naked youngsters who are not at all in the way. now the show commences! all eyes are turned to a troop of seventy cavaliers in extraordinary motley costumes, who ride slowly in single file northwards along the race-course, so slowly that there is plenty of time to examine the various dresses. all wear red flat mushroom-hats with waving, drooping plumes, white thin vests with a waistcoat over them, and white trousers with patches on the knees. but in some details there is a great variety. one rider, for instance, is dressed in a white silk waistcoat bound with black, over a yellow silken jacket with wide rucked sleeves; while another wears a bright blue jacket on a yellow vest, and has also blue knee-caps on his yellow pantaloons. in general the knee patches are red. the quiver, covered with red material, hangs from a shoulder-belt, and is decorated with shining metal plates, shields, and buttons, and contains a bundle of long arrows tipped with single feathers or tufts. the saddle with its clumsy high wooden frame rests on a saddle-cloth worked in colours. the tail of the horse is wrapped round with red, yellow, and blue ribands terminating in a tassel, which is stretched out by a ring of wire so as to be more effective. a similar rosette also adorns the root of the tail, and from it ribands and cross strips running along the flanks of the horse are attached to the saddle, and flutter in the wind. between the ears the horse carries a towering plume of peacock's feathers stuck in a bunch of down; on the forehead is a bundle of strips of material of various lengths and colours; the bridle is thickly studded with plates of metal, and across the chest is a broad belt with bells, which ring at the slightest movement. [illustration: . shigatse-dzong (the fortress). sketch by the author.] the party is therefore decked out fantastically in rich colours, and now it turns and rides along the course in the reverse direction, but this time in full career. they ride as fast as the horses can gallop, fling their legs and elbows up and down, the plumes wave, the quivers rattle, and all the tassels, streamers, and ribands fly and flutter in all directions during this wild career. the horses snort, the bridles are covered with flakes of froth, and each rider leaves a cloud of dust for the one behind him. this evolution is repeated twice, and then at the third lap the riders shoot with their long bows at the two targets. the distance between the two is about yards, and an arrow is aimed at each target. the first shot is easy, but then the shooter must be very smart in his movements to catch hold of the quiver, swinging and jumping on his back, take out the arrow, place it against the string and discharge it before he is past the second target. many marksmen hit both targets, others sent the first arrow into the target, but the second into the ground. sometimes the arrow glanced against the wooden frame of the target, while some of the riders got over the difficulty by turning round and discharging the arrows backwards, to the great danger of the spectators (illustrations , ). the horses are small and active, some of them half-wild and fiery; they have long hair, are badly groomed and shaggy. during the shooting their legs are at full stretch, and the reins hang loose on their necks. at the fourth career the riders shot with loose powder, and at the fifth with the gun at the first target, and with the bow at the second. they use long, heavy, clumsy muskets, and have not even taken off the inconvenient crutch. a ball of crushed-up paper is inserted in the mouth of the barrel, which is scattered around when the shot is fired--to make a show. the start is made at a considerable distance, and the rider is at full gallop when he comes up to the first target. he holds the gun in the left hand, raises it slowly and gracefully to the right shoulder, grasps the butt with his right hand, holds the muzzle in front of him in the direction of the course, and at the moment he is flying past the target turns the barrel towards it and fires, the match having been lighted at starting. many produced a red cloud from the target, all a white, of paper, if the gun went off; for it failed when the tinder was not held at the right moment to the touch-hole. some marksmen discharged their guns a little too late, when they were past the target, and then the spectators most exposed to danger began to rush away in all directions, for they had good reason to fear that their eyebrows would be singed. immediately the shot is fired the gun-sling is quickly thrown over the shoulder, and now there are two seconds in which to catch hold of the quiver, take out an arrow, and discharge it at the second target. the interval was so short that most of the riders missed; when one made a hit, the crowds gave vent to prolonged applause, and a miss caused still more delight. it must be very hot and trying work to ride in this gorgeous costume with gun, bow, and quiver in full sunshine, every now and then buried in a cloud of dust. some horses were so restive that their riders could not shoot, and that caused great amusement to the people. one of the marksmen loses his hat, and the next horse shies at it when he is opposite the target, and, leaving the marked course, springs into the crowd of sightseers. another handles his gun well and raises a red cloud from the target, and also hits the second, but in his hurry has discharged two arrows. one shatters the target and another breaks his gun, and rides on with only the butt in his raised hand, all to the great amusement of the people. attendants collect the arrows, repair the targets, and fill in the bull's eyes with fresh powder (illustration ). [illustration: . shigatse, capital of the province of chang, , feet.] this is a tibetan popular diversion, fresh, rich in colouring, and picturesque. the spectators have evidently their favourites among the competitors, as may be gathered from the increased buzz of voices when certain cavaliers draw near. others are not expected to win laurels, for they are received with bursts of laughter. the people are all eyes and ears as they stand or sit for hours together, eating nuts and sweet stuff. in the crowd we see many old acquaintances from the monastery, and also lamas from ladak, who are studying in the theological seminaries of tashi-lunpo; merchants from nepal and bhotan, mongolian pilgrims in fur caps with large ear-flaps of fox-skin, and about a score of merchants from ladak and kashmir, in tall white turbans and black kaftans with waist-belts. the chinese, who play the same part in tibet as the english in india, sit in small groups, smoking their pipes; they seem to take no interest in the prize-shooting. they wear blue dresses, black vests, and black skull-caps with a coral button on the top. two horses, which probably had never before taken part in such sports, took fright, rushed among the crowd on our side, knocking down some and jumping over others, and were caught at length when they had fallen down entangled in human bodies and clothing. last of all, a ragged fellow jolted along the course on a wretched brute, causing great merriment. this was the signal that the sports were ended, and now the riders dismounted and passed in a long procession before the dzong tent, where each bowed his head before the "chairman of the town council," and a _kadakh_ was laid over his neck. this inexpensive mark of favour was also bestowed on them by their friends and acquaintances, and some favourites went about with as many as sixty white neck-cloths. i treated the whole party to tea, and gave them a present of money for the amusement they had afforded myself and my retinue. when we at last rode into shigatse, we were escorted by quite a host of black tibetans. on february ma daloi invited me to witness some performances in the inner court of his _yamen_ in commemoration of the chinese new year. the performers were to be soldiers of the garrison, but the spectacle was put on the stage by the four chinese temples in shigatse. it was late at night and pitch dark, and the whole effect depended on the illumination. two chairs with a table between them were placed in the verandah, and while ma regaled me with genuine chinese tea, cakes, and cigarettes, twenty men entered, each carrying two large lanterns of white material in the form of a clover leaf, and painted with flowers and dragons. in the centre a wick is so fixed, that the lanterns do not catch fire when they are swung round. the men dance, and swing their lanterns in an advancing line of uniform undulations; they then place themselves so that the lanterns form various patterns, constantly changing; they whirl themselves round with lightning speed, and the bright lanterns resemble great fireballs hovering about in the darkness. all the time squibs and crackers are thrown about, and fizz and explode among the legs of the spectators, for the court is full of tibetans who come in quite at their ease. lastly, the lanterns are left standing and a gigantic bird with a long movable tail and a long curved neck stalks solemnly across the court. the next item is performed by nepalese. each of them carries two lanterns like beehives; the top of the one in front consists of a horse's head, with a full flowing mane of paper, and at the point of the hinder hangs a paper tail. therefore they seem to be riding on horses illuminated from within, as they execute a very lively dance round the court. they sing all the while a melancholy song in slow time. and now a green and yellow dragon comes writhing on to the scene. his head is of wood and paper, and is borne by a man from whose back a painted cloth, the body of the dragon, hangs down and envelops a second crouching man. the dragon dances, twists itself about, opens its jaws, and makes as though it would swallow all present. during the play, weird noisy music drones from drums, cymbals, and flutes, which produce notes like those of a bagpipe. these buffoons present themselves in the courts of all people of rank during the new year season, to make a little money. they threatened us one evening, but i begged them to come in the daytime, that i might immortalize them on a photographic plate (illustration ). [illustration: . chinese new year festival in my garden.] [illustration: . some of the members in the shooting competition at the new year festival.] chapter xxviii monks and pilgrims during the period of forty-seven days which the force of circumstances compelled me to spend in shigatse, i had an opportunity of making numerous visits to the monastery, of drawing and photographing interesting details, of making myself familiar with the daily life and habits of the monks, being present at their studies and recitations, and ever increasing my knowledge of the hierarchical metropolis. i used to ride up to tashi-lunpo with one or two attendants, and pass the whole day in its dark sepulchral chapels and temples. at twilight some of my men came for me with horses. i will recall a few of the impressions i received on these visits, before we start again on our travels. on february i sat on the uppermost of the western galleries and drew a sketch of the façade of the eastern tomb (illustration ), but the pilgrims who were assembling this day for a religious spectacle proved so inquisitive that i had to stop my work and postpone it till a more favourable occasion. i then ascended to a roof platform in front of the labrang, protected with a balustrade, and posted sentinels at the foot of the steps to prevent the people from following me. up there the eye falls on a number of cylindrical frames, a couple of yards high, some covered with black and white materials, others enveloped in folded draperies of different colours and length, very like petticoats (illustration ). between them gilded tridents, flagstaffs, and other holy symbols protrude, which protect the temples from demons. while i was sketching a view of the façades of the middle three mausoleums, the head steward of tashi-lunpo appeared, who supervises the provisioning, cleaning and lighting, etc., caused rugs and cushions to be laid down, and set out the usual refreshments. he is an old lama who has already served thirty years in tashi-lunpo, after preparatory studies in the monastery tösang-ling. from our point of view we can see several smaller gilded copper roofs in chinese style, standing in front of the façades of the mausoleums and rising directly from flat roofs without any intervening course. under each roof is ensconced an idol of importance in a temple hall. we moved about on the roof and enjoyed the wonderful view over the cloister town and its forest of roof ornaments, and came to a place where groups of clerical tailors were sewing together pieces of coloured materials with a zeal and despatch as if their lives depended on it. had it not been for the religious environment and the waving emblems, one might have thought that they were busy with dresses for a ballet or masquerade. oh, no, the idols were to have new silken dresses, and were to be hung round with new draperies and standards in honour of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the birth of the tashi lama. the clerical knights of the needle sat in the full sunshine, sewed, chattered together, and seemed quite happy. they boldly asked me for money to buy tea, and i gave them a handful of rupees. below the place where we had first seen the tashi lama at the performance, lies an open gallery, a colonnade looking on the court; the pillars are of wood, and are wound round with red stuff at the top and white below. this gallery is very picturesque, especially the part where the statues of the four spirit kings are placed. the pillars stand out dark against the light background of the open court, and among them move figures which are far from marring the picture, namely, monks in red garments and pilgrims in motley attire (illustration ). [illustration: . popular diversion in shigatse.] now, too, a religious ceremony was being held in the court. a kind of throne was erected on the northern, shorter, side, and on both sides of it sat monks in yellow kaftans. two lamas, also clothed in yellow, advanced bare-headed to the throne and remained there motionless with their bodies bent. then three lamas in red togas and yellow skull-caps walked slowly over the quadrangle with shrill cries and singular gestures, took off their caps and put them on again with mystical movements. this ceremony was continued so long that we followed the example of most of the pilgrims and left the clergy to their own devices. next day another ceremony took place, of which, unfortunately, i could obtain no trustworthy explanation. the tashi lama took his seat on the throne of yellow silk, on the short side of the court, in full pontificals, and two monks in red dresses came before him in tall red helmet-shaped head-coverings. after his holiness had greeted them, one advanced to the eleven steps of the stone staircase and stationed himself on the lowest, whereupon a very curious conversation began. the lama on the step calls out something, probably a quotation from the holy scriptures, or, perhaps, puts a question, claps his hands so that the court rings with the sound, and makes a movement with the right hand as though he were throwing something straight at the head of the other monk. this one replies in the same loud tone and also claps his hands. occasionally the tashi lama puts in a word himself. lobsang tsering, who is with me, says that this ceremony is a kind of disputation, and that the two disputing monks will attain a higher degree in the scale of the priesthood if they pass the examination satisfactorily. below, to our left, six monks in yellow garments sit on a carpet. between the pillars the gallery is packed with lamas of lower rank in red dresses, and before them sit superior monks in red kaftans richly worked in gold. beside the tashi lama, on his right, is the seat of lobsang tsundo gyamtso. the dark-red and straw-yellow robes are very effective against the dirty-grey colour of the court. now a number of serving brothers come on the scene and set long rows of small tables on the open space in front of the tashi lama, which are immediately covered with bowls of dried fruits, confectionery, and mandarin oranges. and now begins a feast in honour of the graduation. when the tables and bowls are emptied, they are removed as quickly as they were brought, and then comes a solemn procession of monks with tea-pots, and a kind of tea ceremony begins, less complicated but quite as imposing as in japan. two priests of high rank place themselves in front of the tashi lama and remain there, bending a little forwards, and quite as motionless as the priests praying at the altar in our own churches. it is their duty to serve tea to his holiness. the first monk in the procession bears a pot of solid gold, which one of the monks before the throne takes from him to fill the cup of the tashi lama. the other monks in the procession carry silver pots, each of which is valued at £ , and from these tea is poured out for all the other monks who are not re-incarnations. every monk carries his own wooden cup in the folds of his toga, and holds it out when the monk who pours out the tea comes round with his pot (illust. ). all through the ceremony the two candidates continue to dispute and clap their hands without intermission. after sitting cross-legged for three hours, as motionless as a statue of buddha, his holiness leaves the throne, and, supported by two monks, slowly descends the staircase, on which a narrow strip of coloured carpet is laid; for the tashi lama may not touch the unclean earth with his holy feet. behind him walks a monk, holding above his head a huge sunshade of yellow silk with hanging fringes. one can hardly help feeling that the little man in papal robes and the yellow mitre, who disappears in the darkness among the pillars of the gallery, while the deepest silence prevails, is really a saint, and one of the most powerful in the world. he is now going up to his apartments in the labrang, where he can pass his time in peace till some new ceremony calls him forth to discharge his ecclesiastical duties (illust. ). a gloom seemed to fall over the whole quadrangle after he had withdrawn. the monks, who had but just been so quiet, began to talk and laugh, the younger ones played and wrestled together, and dirty bare-armed novices drove away with sticks two mangy dogs which had found their way into the holy place. [illustration: . nepalese performing symbolical dances at the new year festival.] it was, however, not only the absence of the tashi lama that relieved the gloom of the quadrangle: clouds of yellow dust were being swept by a westerly storm over tashi-lunpo. all the streamers, window curtains and awnings, and the long white flags, began to flutter and clap, and the strokes of the thousand temple bells were blended into one clang, which filled the air and seemed to rise like a hymn to the dwellings of the gods; for at all corners, projections, and cornices are hung brazen bells with clappers attached to a spring, so that a very slight breeze is sufficient to produce a sound. it is very pleasant to listen to this great carillon played by the wind as one wanders through the maze of tashi-lunpo. a lama from ladak, who had been studying for five years in tashi-lunpo, informed me that there are four different grades of learned priests. if there are several sons in one family, one must always be devoted to the monastic life. in order to be received into a monastery he must first take the oath, binding him to live in chastity and abstinence, not to drink, to steal, to kill, etc. he is then admitted as a novice into the fraternity of the yellow monks. after preliminary studies he attains to the first order in the priesthood, which is called the _getsul_, and it is his duty to study certain holy writings and listen to the instruction imparted by a kanpo-lama. he is also bound to perform certain services, present tea to the superior monks, carry wood and water, see after the cleaning of the temples, fill the votive bowls, snuff the butter lamps, etc. the next order, the _gelong_, has three subdivisions: _ringding_, _rikchen_, and _kachen_, of which the last qualifies a member to act as teacher. then comes the rank of _kanpo-lama_, or abbot, and lastly the _yungchen_, who stands next to the panchen rinpoche. the getsul-lama has to pay a fee of rupees in order to be promoted to the rank of a ringding-lama; it is only a question of money, and the rank may be conferred on a monk a month after he enters the convent, but may be postponed for years if he is penniless. a ringding-lama must study a great number of scriptures and pay or rupees before he can become a rikchen-lama, and other to become a kachen. according to another informant the ringding and the rikchen are attached to the getsul order, and only the kachen belongs to the gelong order. in these orders, however, it is easier to collect the necessary fees, for the monk has now an opportunity of exercising his sacerdotal office among the people. no payment is demanded on promotion to the rank of kanpo-lama, but this appointment is in the hands of the tashi lama; it is comparatively seldom conferred, and great learning is a necessary condition. on his appointment the lama receives a certificate bearing the seal of the tashi lama. a thorough knowledge of the holy books is required for the rank of yungchen, and a conclave of high priests present recommendations for the conferment of the dignity. at the present time there are monks in tashi-lunpo, but during festivals the number rises to , for then many come in from the neighbouring convents. of the there are, it is said, of the getsul and of the gelong order. the gelong lamas are not obliged to meddle with worldly matters, but have only to superintend the temple services and take part in the rites. there are four only of the kanpo order now in tashi-lunpo and two of the yungchen: one from the chang province, and the other from kanum in beshar, the convent where the hungarian alexander csoma körösi lived as a monk eighty years ago in order to study the records of lamaism. this yungchen-lama, who is named lotsaba, is abbot of the monastery kanum and of three others near the sutlej. he came as a nine-year-old boy to tashi-lunpo, and has lived here twenty-nine years. he longs to return to his home, but the tashi lama will not let him go thither until the dalai lama has returned to lhasa. of the monks, in all come from ladak and other lands in the western himalayas; a few are mongolians and the rest tibetans; monks provide the church music, and dancing is performed by . they dance only twice a year. in the intervals their valuable costumes are deposited in sealed chests in a store-room called ngakang. as they are little worn they last for centuries. [illustration: . dancing nepalese at the new year festival, tashi-lunpo.] the disputation just described is connected with promotion to the kachen order, the graduation taking place only during the new year festival, when eighteen lamas are annually promoted from the rank of getsul to that of gelong. the ceremony lasts three days: on the first day two graduate in the morning and two in the afternoon; on the second day six, and on the third day eight. on february i again rode up to the monastery to sketch gateways and photograph the tashi lama, who had sent me word in the morning that this day would suit him if i had time to spare. the weather was all that could be wished, calm and clear. there was a dense crowd on the uppermost platform, in a broad open space before the eastern mausoleum. it was particularly interesting to see an interminable procession of nuns, who had come in from the neighbouring temples to seek the blessing of the tashi lama for the new year. all ages were represented, from wrinkled old women to quite young girls. they were fearfully ugly and dirty, and in the whole collection i could find only two who were fairly good-looking. they had short hair and were dressed like the monks: some i should have taken for men, if i had not known that they were women. but, unlike the monks, they wore small yellow caps with turned-up brims, red on the underside. lamas and pilgrims swarmed on the courts, platforms, roofs, and staircases--all come to receive the sacred blessing; the devout and patient assembly, here forming queues, made a deep impression on the spectators. to us they intimated a long wait, and therefore we went to the tomb of the grand lama, and i drew the handsome portal. i had scarcely finished when tsaktserkan appeared to inform me that his holiness was waiting for me, so we hurried up the staircases, past the usual groups of monks, who were loitering all about and appeared to have little to do. on the great quadrangle preparations were being made for the disputation ceremonies. this time muhamed isa accompanied me, and the tashi lama received me in the same half-open roof chamber as on the former occasion. he was as charming as ever, and again turned the conversation to distant countries far remote from this carefully isolated tibet. this time he spoke chiefly of agra, benares, peshawar, afghanistan, and the road from herat to the khyber pass. "what lies to the west of yarkand?" he asked. "the pamir and turkestan." "and west of that?" "the caspian sea, which is navigated by large steamers." "and west of the caspian sea?" "the caucasus." "and where do you come to when you continue to travel westwards?" "to the black sea, turkey, russia, austria, germany, france, and then to england, which lies out in the ocean." "and what is there to the west of this ocean?" "america, and beyond another ocean, and then japan, china, and tibet again." "the world is immensely large," he said thoughtfully, and nodded to me with a friendly smile. i asked him to come to sweden, where i would be his guide. then he smiled again: he would like to travel to sweden and london, but high sacred duties kept him constantly fettered to the convent walls of tashi-lunpo. after tea and refreshments he walked about his room like an ordinary man, and asked me to get my camera ready. a yellow carpet was laid in the sunny part of the room, and a chair was placed on it. he did not, alas! wear his refined, charming smile when the three plates were exposed, but had a solemn look--perhaps he was considering whether it might not be dangerous to allow an unbeliever to take his portrait in the midst of his own cloister town (illustration ). a tall young lama with a pleasant countenance knew how to take photographs, and took a couple of portraits of me for the tashi lama. he had a dark room, where we could develop our plates--lamaist temples are excellently adapted for dark rooms. [illustration: . the kitchen in tashi-lunpo.] [illustration: . colonnade in tashi-lunpo. sketches by the author.] then we resumed our seats, and the tashi lama inquired how i had liked the show of riders on the preceding day. i answered that i had never experienced such amusement. he had never attended these worldly spectacles, for he was always engaged in his religious duties on that day. then he made a sign, and some monks brought in a gift of honour for me: two bundles of cerise-coloured woollen material, woven in gyangtse; some pieces of gold-embroidered stuff from china; two copper bowls with silver edges, and a gilded saucer for a porcelain cup, with a cover to match. with his own hands he gave me a gilded image clothed in red and yellow silk, and a large light-yellow _kadakh_. the image he gave me, a seated buddha with blue hair, a crown, and a bowl in the hands, from which a plant sprouts, he called tsepagmed. this, according to grünwedel, is the form of the amitabha buddha, called amitayus, or "he who has an immeasurably long life." it is significant that the tashi lama selected this particular image to give me, for he is himself an incarnation of amitabha, and he is almighty. the figure of the tsepagmed was therefore intended as a pledge that a long life was before me. this i did not understand at the time; it was only when i looked through professor grünwedel's _mythologie_ that i grasped the significance of the present. this time the audience lasted two and a half hours, and it was the last time i saw the tashi lama face to face; for afterwards all sorts of political complications arose which might have been dangerous to him--not to me--and i considered myself bound not to expose him to any annoyance through my visits, which might excite the suspicion of the chinese. but it grieved me to stay near him for weeks, knowing that he saw every day my tent from his small cloister window, and yet not be able to visit and converse with him; for he was one of those rare, refined, and noble personalities who make other people feel that their lives are fuller and more precious. yes, the memory of the tashi lama will cleave to me as long as i live. his friendship is sincere, his shield is spotless and bright, he seeks for the truth honestly and humbly, and knows that by a virtuous and conscientious life he renders himself a worthy temple for the soul of the mighty amitabha. the tashi lama was six years old when destiny called him to be the pope of tashi-lunpo, a dignity he has held nineteen years. he is said to have been born in tagbo, in the gongbo country. he, like the pope, is a prisoner in the tibetan vatican in spite of his great religious influence, and leads a life prescribed by religious regulations, every day of the year having its particular ecclesiastical functions and occupations. for instance, on february , he must bow the knee before the graves of all his predecessors, accompanied by all the superior clergy. when i asked where he himself would be interred when it pleased amitabha to be re-incarnated in a new tashi lama, i was told that a sepulchre would be erected for him as handsome as the others, and that a conclave of the higher priests would select the site. either the sixth mausoleum will be erected on the west side of the others in a line with them, or a new row will be commenced in front of the former. one day all my lamaist followers were admitted to the presence of his holiness. it was agreed beforehand that they should not pay more as temple offerings than three rupees per man. of course i paid for them, and they afterwards assured me that the sacred blessing would benefit them during the rest of their lives. i did not succeed in getting information as to the number of pilgrims who flock annually to tashi-lunpo. when i made inquiries on the subject i was answered with a laugh, and the statement that they were so numerous it was quite impossible to count them. pilgrims of rank and fortune make large contributions; others only a small silver coin, or a bag of _tsamba_ or rice; and others again come in companies in the train of some well-to-do chief who pays for them all. if the concourse is too large, the blessing is imparted by the higher monks through laying on of hands; when the numbers are smaller, they receive the blessing from the tashi lama himself, not with the hand, but with a staff bound with yellow silk. he only blesses people of position and monks with his hand. we saw laymen as well as clergy among the pilgrims. we have already seen the nuns forming a queue and waiting for the blessing. four hundred nuns had come in from the neighbouring convents. during their stay they receive free lodging in the chini-chikang, a building in tashi-lunpo, free board, and a small present of money at their departure. they do not appear every year, but this year they arrived on the second day of the festival and departed on february . we also saw novices from other monasteries, who are regaled with tea at stated times; but they must be content to sit on the ground in front of the kitchen, where they fill the narrow lane, so that it is difficult to get past. there are also wandering lamas among the pilgrims. one day i made a sketch of one who had roamed far and wide. he wore a rosary round his neck, a necklace of shells, and a _gao_ with an idol, which had been given him by the tashi lama. not long before he had performed a prostration pilgrimage round all the monasteries of lhasa, and had just completed this feat, so acceptable to the gods, round tashi-lunpo. he moves in the direction of the hands of a watch, and measures the distance round the monastery with the length of his body. he folds his hands over his forehead, sinks on his knees, lays himself full length on the ground, stretches both arms forward, scratches a mark in the soil, stands up, steps up to the mark and falls again on his knees, and repeats this process till he has gone all round the monastery. such a circuit of tashi-lunpo demands a whole day, but if he also goes into the lanes and round all the mausoleums and temples, this religious gymnastic feat requires three days. we saw daily whole rows both of clerical and lay pilgrims encompassing tashi-lunpo and all its gods in this fashion. i asked several of them how many times they prostrated themselves on the ground during a circuit, but they did not know; for, they said, "we pray all the time, om mani padme hum; there are twenty manis to each prostration, and we cannot therefore count the prostrations as well." many of them encircle the wall several times. this wandering lama was one of a brotherhood of nine monks, who often visited us in our garden, sat down in front of the tents, turned their prayer mills, and sang. they had free lodging in a building in tashi-lunpo, called hamdung. another member was the seventeen-year-old tensin from amdo, who had taken four months to travel thence to tashi-lunpo. they had come for the festival, and intended to return home through lhasa and nakchu (illustration ). the contributions of the pilgrims are one of tashi-lunpo's chief sources of revenue. but the monastery also possesses extensive estates and herds, and certain monks, who superintend the agricultural affairs and have the disposal of the produce, also carry on trade with the neighbourhood and with nepal. the produce of the whole of chang is devoted to the use of tashi-lunpo, which is therefore wealthy. each of the monks, irrespective of rank, receives rupees annually, and, of course, lives gratis in the convent. another large source of income is the sale of amulets, talismans and relics, idols of metal or terra cotta, sacred paintings (_tankas_), joss-sticks, etc. the priests also get very good prices for small, insignificant, almost worthless clay idols, and paper strips with symbolical figures, which the pilgrims carry round the neck as talismans, when these things have been duly blessed by the tashi lama. [illustration: . lamas drinking tea in the court of ceremonies in tashi-lunpo. sketch by the author.] on february i spent nearly the whole day in parts of the monastery i had not previously seen. we wandered through narrow winding corridors, and lanes in deep shadow, between tall white-washed stone houses, in which the monks have their cells. one of the houses was inhabited by student monks from the environs of leh, spittok, and tikze, and we went into the small dark cubicles, hardly larger than my tent. along one of the longer sides stood the bed, a red-covered mattress, a pillow, and a frieze blanket. the other furniture consisted of some boxes of books, clothing, and religious articles. holy writings lay opened. a couple of bags contained _tsamba_ and salt, a small altar with idols, votive vessels, and burning butter lamps, and that is all. here it is dark, cool, damp, and musty--anything but agreeable; very like a prison. but here the man who has consecrated his life to the church, and stands on a higher level than other men, spends his days. monks of lower rank live two or three in one cell. gelongs have cells to themselves, and the chief prelates have much more elegant and spacious apartments. each monk receives daily three bowls of _tsamba_, and takes his meals in his own cell, where tea also is brought to him three times a day. but tea is also handed round during the services in the temple halls, in the lecture-rooms, and in the great quadrangle. no religious rite seems to be too holy to be interrupted at a convenient time by a cup of tea. one day from the red colonnade (kabung) i looked down on the court full of lamas, who were sitting in small groups, leaving only narrow passages free, along which novices passed to and fro with hot silver and copper pots, and offered the soup-like beverage stirred up with butter. it had all the appearance of a social "five o'clock tea" after some service. but the meeting had a certain touch of religion, for occasionally a solemn, monotonous hymn was sung, which sounded wonderfully beautiful and affecting as it reverberated through the enclosed court. on march the quadrangle and other places within the walls of tashi-lunpo swarmed with women--it was the last day on which the precincts of the monastery were open to them; they would not be admitted again till the next losar festival (illustration ). the young monk who, when accompanying the tashi lama in india, had had an opportunity of learning about photography, had his dark room beside his large elegant cell. i, too, was able to develop my plates there. he asked me to come frequently and give him instructions. he had solid tables, comfortable divans, and heavy handsome hangings in his room, which was lighted with oil lamps at night. there we sat and talked for hours. all of a sudden he took it into his head to learn english. we began with the numerals, which he wrote down in tibetan characters; after he had learned these by heart he asked for other of the more common words. however, he certainly made no striking progress during the few lessons i gave him. care is necessary in walking through the streets of the cloister town, for the flags, which have been trod by thousands of monks for hundreds of years, are worn smooth and are treacherous. usually there is a good deal of traffic, especially on feast days. monks come and go, stand talking in groups at the street-corners and in the doorways, pass to and from the services, or are on their way to visit their brethren in their cells; others carry newly-made banners and curtains from the tailor's shop into the mystical twilight of the gods; while others bear water-cans to fill the bowls on the altars, or sacks of meal and rice for the same purpose. small trains of mules come to fill the warehouse of the convent, where a brisk business is going on, for a family of has to be provided for. and then, again, there are pilgrims, who loiter about here only to look in on the gods, swing their prayer mills, and murmur their endless "om mani padme hum." here and there along the walls beggars are sitting, holding out their wooden bowls for the passer-by to place something in, if it is only a pinch of _tsamba_. the same emaciated, ragged beggars are to be found daily at the same street-corners, where they implore the pity of the passengers in the same whining, beseeching tone. in the narrow lanes, where large prayer mills are built in rows into the wall, and are turned by the passers-by, many poor people are seated, a living reproof of the folly of believing that the turning of a prayer mill alone is a sufficiently meritorious action on the way to the realms of the blessed. in one particularly small room stand two colossal cylindrical prayer mills before which a crowd is always collected--monks, pilgrims, merchants, workmen, tramps and beggars. such a praying machine contains miles of thin paper strips with prayers printed on them, and wound round and round the axis of the cylinder. there is a handle attached, by which the axle can be turned. a single revolution, and millions of prayers ascend together to the ears of the gods. chapter xxix walks in tashi-lunpo--the disposal of the dead immediately below the red colonnade stands the sokchin-rungkang-chimbo, the kitchen, with its walled-up stove of colossal dimensions and six huge caldrons embedded in masonry. the first supplies all the monks with tea at one boiling. on the part of the caldron which rises above the masonry are inscriptions and cast ornaments (illustration ). each caldron has a wooden cover which is put on when the caldron is not in use. tea was being prepared in two of these gigantic pots; probably allowance was made for any chance guests. glowing, blazing fireplaces yawn below the caldrons, and faggots of branches and sticks are thrust in with long iron forks. there is an opening in the roof for the smoke, which rises up in grey rings and produces a picturesque illumination in the holy kitchen. a continuous succession of young lamas and workmen ascend the steps leading up from the street, carrying on their backs water-tubs of different capacity according to the strength of the bearer; for there are quite small boys among them, who have recently been consigned by their relations to the care of the monks. one after another tips his tub over the edge of the caldron, while the stoker thrusts fresh faggots of wood into the stove. other serving brothers bring in a quantity of cubes of brick tea which they throw into the boiling water, whence clouds of steam ascend and mingle with the smoke. at the side of the caldron stand two cooks, who stir with huge staves larger than oars, and disappear in the rising steam, becoming visible again, like shadow figures lighted from above, when a slight draught from the door clears the air. they sing a slow rhythmical song over their work. when the tea is ready, it is poured into large bright copper pots with shining yellow brass mountings, handles, and all kinds of ornamentation. novices carry the vessels on their shoulders to all the various halls and cells. a loud signal is given on a sea-shell from a temple roof that the monks may not miss their tea, but may be on the look-out. i frequently looked into the kitchen, the scene was so picturesque, and the cooks were ready for a joke and were not averse to being sketched (illustration ). two large and several small _chhortens_ are erected on an open square in front of the mausoleums, of exactly the same design as those so frequently seen in ladak. there are also stone niches filled with idols and other objects. a crowd of people was collected on the terrace when i was sketching, and it was not easy to get a clear view. it was a striking picture, with all the red and many-coloured garments against the background of the white-washed walls of the memorial towers (illustration ). [illustration: . part of shigatse.] [illustration: . the tashi lama returning to the labrang after a ceremony.] one day when i had sat a long time talking in the cell of the photographing lama, it was dark when i went home. we passed, as we often had before, the entrance gate to the forecourt of the namgyal-lhakang, the temple in which the tashi lama had once provided us with refreshments. there the evening service was in full swing, and of course we entered to look on. the illumination was more dimly religious than usual, but we could at any rate make out our surroundings after coming straight out of the outer darkness. the monks sat on long red divans, and their black profiles were thrown up by the row of forty flames burning in bowls before the altar. the gilded lotus blossoms of the pedestal were brightly lighted, and the yellow silken scarves in the hands of tsong kapa's statue and the garlands draped over the images stood out conspicuously. but the upper parts of the figures under the roof were plunged in darkness, and tsong kapa's countenance, with plump rosy cheeks and broad nose, was so curiously lighted up from below that his smile was not perceptible. the four coloured pillars in the middle of the hall appeared black against the altar lamps. the monks wore yellow robes, sat bare-headed, and chanted their melancholy litanies, now and then interrupted by ringing of bells and the roll of drums. at first the leather head of the drumstick falls slowly and regularly on the tight skin, then the beats become more and more frequent, and at last the drum becomes silent in an instant. a monk recites "om mani padme hum" in rising and falling tones with the rapidity of an expert, and the others join in, making some kind of responses. the recitation passes into a continuous hum, in which often only the words "om mani" are heard aloud, and the word "lama" uttered more slowly. the whole ritual has a singularly soporific effect; only tsong kapa listens attentively, sitting dreamily with wide staring eyes, and ears hanging down to the shoulders. here, too, the indispensable tea is handed round; a monk with an oil lamp attends the server that he may be able to see the cups. the monks were now quite accustomed to my visits and took no particular notice of me, but they always greeted me politely and asked what i had been sketching during the day. a lama gave me information about a remarkable custom. certain monks consent of their own free will to be walled up in dark grottoes or caves for the space of three, six, or at most twelve years. near a small monastery, shalu-gompa, a day's journey from tashi-lunpo, there is a monk who has already spent five years in his grotto, and is to remain there seven more. in the wall of the grotto is an opening a span in diameter. when the twelve years are over, and the hermit may return to the light of day, he crawls out through this opening. i insinuated that this was a physical impossibility, but the lama replied that the miracle does take place, and, besides, the enclosed monk has become so emaciated in the twelve years that he can easily slip through the opening. one of the monks of the monastery goes daily to the grotto with tea, water, and _tsamba_, and pushes these provisions through the opening, but he may not speak to the prisoner or the charm would be broken. only sufficient light penetrates through the opening to allow the anchorite to distinguish between day and night. to read the holy scriptures, which he has taken with him into the cave, he must use an oil lamp, and a fresh supply of oil is placed from time to time in the opening. he says his prayers all day long, and divides the night into three watches, of which two are spent in sleep and one in reading. during the twelve years he may not once leave his grotto, never look at the sun, and never kindle a fire. his clothing is not the usual monk's dress, but a thin cotton shirt, and a girdle round the body; he wears no trousers, head-covering, or shoes. among other abstruse subjects, this penitent must study a composition on some kind of magic, which renders him insensible to cold and almost independent of the laws of gravity. he becomes light, and when the hour of release arrives, travels on winged feet: whereas he used to take ten days to journey from tashi-lunpo to gyangtse, he can now cover the distance in less than a day. immediately the twelve years of trial are ended, he must repair to tashi-lunpo to blow a blast of a horn on the roof, and then he returns to shalu-gompa. he is considered a saint as long as he lives, and has the rank of a kanpo-lama. no sooner has he left his grotto than another is ready to enter the darkness and undergo the same test. this lama was the only one in this neighbourhood then confined in a grotto, but there are hermits in abundance, living in open caves or small stone huts, and maintained by the nomads living near them. we were later on to hear of fanatical lamas who renounce the world in a much stricter fashion. in tashi-lunpo the cloister rule seems to be strictly enforced: there are especial inspectors, policemen and lictors who control the lives of the monks in their cells and take care that no one commits a breach of his vows. recently a monk had broken the vow of chastity; he was ejected for ever from the gelugpa confraternity and banished from the territory of tashi-lunpo. he has, then, no prospect of finding an asylum in another monastery, but must embrace some secular profession. one day we visited the dena-lhakang, a temple like a half-dark corridor, for it is lighted only by two quite inadequate windows. in the middle of the corridor there is a niche which has doors into the hall, for the walls are very thick. thus between the doors and the window is formed a small room in which the lama on duty sits as in a hut. he belongs to the gelong order, is named tung shedar, came from tanak, and is now seventy years old, has short white hair, and a skin as dry as an old yellow crumpled parchment. on entering, one sees on the right a bookcase with deep square pigeon-holes, in which holy books are placed. on the outer, longer wall, banners painted with figures hang between the two windows, in the deepest shadow, most of which are of venerable age, and are dusty and faded--a lamaist picture gallery. pillars are ranged along the longer wall, of red lacquered wood, and between them is suspended trellis-work of short iron rods, forming geometrical figures. they are intended to preserve the valuables from theft. in such a niche we see hundreds of small idols set round in rows, four to eight inches high, in silken mantles. before them are taller statues of gods, and chinese vases of old valuable porcelain. especial reverence is shown to a cabinet with an open door, within which is preserved a tablet, draped with _kadakhs_, and inscribed with chinese characters, in memory of the great emperor kien-lung who was admitted by the third tashi lama into the confraternity of the yellow monks. above, covering the capitals of the pillars, is hung strange, shabbily-fine drapery, of pieces of variously coloured cloth and paper strips. for the rest, the hall abounds in the usual vessels, brazen elephants with joss-sticks, large chalices and bowls, small and large flags, and other things. another time i had been drawing in a sepulchral chapel and taken the opportunity of making a sketch of some female pilgrims who were praying there. when the work was finished, we crossed a paved court fully yards broad by long, which was situated just under the façade of the labrang. it was full of people waiting to see the tashi lama, who was to pass by on his way to some ceremony. he came in a red monk's frock and the yellow mitre; above his head was held the yellow sunshade, and he was accompanied by a train of monks. he walked with his body slightly bent and an air of humility. many fell down before him full-length and worshipped him, while others threw grains of rice over him. he did not see me, but his smile was just as kind and mild as when we last met. so he is evidently affable to all alike. i made daily visits to the monastery and so gained a thorough knowledge of the solitary life of the monks. gompa signifies "the abode of solitude," or monastery; the monks in the convent certainly live isolated from the outer world, its vanities and temptations. once, in the kanjur-lhakang, i purposed to draw the images with the lamps burning before them on the innermost, darkest wall, but just as i was about to begin monks filled the hall. their places on the long divans were made ready for them, and before each seat a huge volume of the holy scriptures, the kanjur, lay on a long continuous desk. the large yellow robes which are put on at service time, but may not be worn in the open-air, were laid ready. the young, brown-skinned, short-haired monks entered in red togas, threw the yellow vestments over their shoulders, and sat down cross-legged before the books. an older lama, a kanpo, mounted the pulpit on the shorter wall and intoned the sacred text in a harsh, solemn, bass voice. the pupils joined in a monotonous rhythm. some read from the pages in front of them, while others seemed to know the words of the chant by heart--at any rate they looked all about. exemplary order is not observed. some young fellows, who certainly were much more at home in the world than in the church, talked during the chant, giggled, and buried their faces in their robes to stifle their laughter. but no one took any notice of them; they caused no disturbance. others never raised their eyes from the book. the hall was as dark as a crypt, being lighted only by a narrow skylight, and through two small doors (illustration ). [illustration: . the panchen rinpoche, or tashi lama.] after they had sung awhile there was an interval, and lama boys passed along the gangways between the rows of benches and poured tea, with wonderful adroitness and without spilling a drop, into the wooden cups held out to them. but almost before the pupils have begun to drink, the deep bass of the leader drones out in the gloom above, and the proceedings recommence. meanwhile pilgrims pass along the gangways to the altar and place small heaps of _tsamba_ or meal in the bowls standing before the images, from the bags and bundles they bring with them. a tall lama stands erect at the entrance door. a pilgrim says to him: "i will pay _tengas_ for a blessing." the lama sings out aloud the contribution and the purpose for which it is given, and then a strophe is sung especially on behalf of the pilgrim, after which all the monks clap their hands. this is repeated whenever fresh pilgrims come up. i myself paid rupees for a blessing, and received it together with a noisy clapping. for ten minutes the lamas stand up, run along the passages outside the lecture-hall, or take stock of me while i am sketching the schoolroom and the pupils. often a handful of rice rains down upon the youths--some pilgrim is passing by the window opening. at these readings and at the high mass the monks who have been longest in the monastery occupy the front seats, and the last-comers the back seats. when the lecture is over the kanpo-lama counts the receipts that have flowed in from the pockets of the pilgrims, wraps the coins in paper, which is sealed up and conveyed to the treasury, and enters the amount in a large account book. the images on the altar table of the kanjur-lhakang are small, and composed of gilded metal, and most of the other idols in tashi-lunpo are of the same kind. some are of carved wood, and a few, like the great statue of tsong kapa, are composed of powdered spices cemented together by a gum extracted from roots of plants. the statue of tsong kapa is said to have been constructed seventy-two years ago, and to have cost as much as one of gold. the tashi lama has small gods cast for the new year festival, each costing rupees; they are manufactured in tashi-lunpo, and are given away or sold. the manufacture of these images is regarded as a peculiarly blessed work, and the lamas engaged in it may count with certainty on a long life. especially is this the case with those who make images of the tsepagmed. the oftener they utter his name and produce his likeness from the rough metal, the longer it will be before their poor souls have to set out on their travels again. no idol, however, possesses any miraculous power or the slightest shadow of divine influence unless it is properly consecrated and blessed by an incarnated lama. i must by this time have tried the patience of my readers with my personal recollections of the monastery of tashi-lunpo. i have unintentionally tarried too long with the fraternity of the yellow-caps, and quite forgotten events awaiting our attention elsewhere. i might have remembered that temples and monks' cells may not have the same interest for others as they have for myself, but the remembrance of this period is particularly dear to me, for i was treated with greater friendliness and hospitality in tashi-lunpo than in any town of central asia. we came from the wastes of tibet to the greatest festival of the year, from solitude into the religious metropolis swarming with thousands of pilgrims, from poverty and want to abundance of everything we wanted, and the howling of wolves and storms gave place to hymns and fanfares from temple roofs glittering with gold. the balls in simla and the desolate mountains of tibet were strange contrasts, but still greater the solitude of the mountain wilderness and the holy town, which we entered in the garb of far-travelled pilgrims, and where we were hospitably invited to look about us and take part in all that was going on. it is now time to say farewell to tashi-lunpo, its mystic gloom and its far-sounding trumpet blasts. i do so with the feeling that i have given a very imperfect and fragmentary description of it. it was not part of my plan to thoroughly investigate the cloister town, but on the contrary it was my desire to return as early as possible to the parts of tibet where i might expect to make great geographical discoveries. circumstances, however, which i shall hereafter refer to in a few words, compelled us to postpone our departure from day to day. as we were always looking forward to making a start, our visits to the monastery were curtailed. moreover, i wished, if possible, to avoid exciting suspicion. tashi-lunpo had on two occasions, more than years ago indeed, been pillaged by gurkhas from nepal. the english had quite recently made a military expedition to lhasa. many monks disapproved of my daily visits, and regarded it as unseemly that a european, of whose exact intentions nothing was known, should go about freely, sketch the gods, see all the treasures of gold and precious stones, and make an inventory. and it was known that the dominant race in tibet, the chinese, were displeased at my coming hither, and that i had really no right to sojourn in the forbidden land. if, then, i wished to accomplish more, i must exercise the greatest caution in all my proceedings. a few words on funeral customs before we take leave of tashi-lunpo. south-west of tashi-lunpo lies a small village, gompa-sarpa or the new monastery, where, according to tradition, a temple formerly stood which was plundered by the dzungarians. here is now the cemetery of shigatse and of the monastery, the golgotha where the bodies of monks and laymen are abandoned to corruption in the same fashion. when the soul of a lama grows weary of the earthly frame in which it has spent its human life, and the lama himself, after living perhaps fifty years in his dark cloister cell, perceives that the lamp of life is going out for want of oil, some brethren gather round his sick-bed, recite prayers, or intercede with the gods set up in his cell, whose prototypes in nirvana or in the kingdom of the dead have something to do with death and the transmigration of souls. as soon as life is extinct, special prayers for the dead are recited to facilitate the severance of the soul from the body, and console it during its first steps on the dark road beyond the bounds of this life. the corpse of a lama lies in his cell for three days, that of a layman as long as five days, that there may be sufficient time for all the funeral rites and services. rich people retain the corpse longer in the house, which is certainly more expensive, but allows more time for prayers which will benefit the deceased. monks fix the date of interment and the moment when the soul is actually freed from its earthly fetters and soars up in search of a new habitation. the dead lama in a new costume of the ordinary cut and style is wrapped in a piece of cloth and is carried away by one or two of his colleagues; a layman is borne on a bier by the corpse-bearers. these are called _lagbas_, and form a despised caste of fifty persons, who live apart in fifteen small miserable cabins in the village gompa-sarpa. they are allowed to marry only within the guild of corpse-bearers, and their children may not engage in any other occupation but that of their fathers, so that the calling is hereditary. they are obliged to live in wretched huts without doors or windows; the ventilators and doorways are open to all the winds of heaven and all kinds of weather. even if they do their work well they are not allowed to build more comfortable houses. it is their duty also to remove dead dogs and carcasses from tashi-lunpo, but they may not enter within the wall round the convent. if they have any uneasiness about their souls' welfare, they pay a lama to pray for them. when they die, their souls pass into the bodies of animals or wicked men. but in consequence of the afflictions they have endured they are spared too hard a lot in the endless succession of transmigrations. the lagbas have only to hack in pieces lamas, their own relations, and the bodies of the homeless poor. well-to-do laymen have this operation performed for their own people without calling in professional aid. when the monks come with a dead brother to the place of dissection they strip him completely, divide his clothes among them, and have no compunction in wearing them the very next day. the lagbas receive to _tengas_ ( d. to s. d.) for each body and a part of the old clothing of a lama; in the case of a layman the lagba receives all the raiment of the deceased, and the ear-rings and other simpler ornaments of a woman. the monks who have brought the body hurry off again with all speed, partly because the smell is very bad and partly that they may not witness the cutting up of the corpse, at which only the lagbas need be present; even when the body is that of a layman, it is divided only in the presence of lagbas. [illustration: . portrait of the tashi lama. (before retouching.)] a cord fastened to a post driven into the ground is passed round the neck of the corpse, and the legs are pulled as straight as possible--a feat requiring great exertion in the case of a lama, who has died and become rigid in a sitting posture. then the body is skinned, so that all the flesh is exposed; the lagbas utter a call, and vultures which roost around come sailing up in heavy flight, pounce down on the prey, and tear and pluck at it till the ribs are laid bare. there are no dogs here as in lhasa, and even if there were, they would get no share in the feast, for the vultures do their work quickly and thoroughly. we afterwards visited convents where sacred dogs were fed with the flesh of priests. the lagba sits by while the vultures feed, and these are so tame that they hop unconcernedly over the man's legs. the head is usually cut off as soon as the body is skinned. the skeleton is crushed to powder between stones, and is kneaded with the brains into a paste, which is thrown to the birds in small lumps. they will not touch the bone-dust unless it is mixed with brains. the guild of corpse-cutters pursue their task with the greatest composure: they take out the brains with their hands, knead it into powder, and pause in the midst of their gruesome employment to drink tea and eat _tsamba_. i am exceedingly doubtful if they ever wash themselves. an old lagba, whom i summoned to my tent to supplement the information i had received from the monks, had on that very morning cut up the body of an old lama. muhamed isa held his cap before his face all through the conversation, and had at last to go out, for he began to feel ill. the man had an unpleasant rough aspect, wore a small grey soft cap, and was dressed in rags of the coarsest sacking. he had his own theories of post-mortem examination and anatomy. he told me that when an effusion of blood was found in the brain it was a sign that the man had been insane, and that when the substance of the brain was yellow the man had been an habitual snuff-taker. in some cases, so a monk assured me, the corpse is not skinned, but the head is cut off, the trunk is divided in two along the spine with a sharp knife, and each half is cut into small pieces, and the vultures are not called till this has been done. small children and grown-up men are cut up in the same manner. there is not the least respect shown for the nakedness of dead women. the whole aim of this method of disposing of the body is that the deceased may have the merit of giving his body to the birds, which would otherwise be famished. thus even after his death he performs a pious deed which will promote the peace of his soul. the vultures here act the same part as in the towers of silence among the parsees of bombay and persia. as soon as the demands of religion are fulfilled, the relatives take leave of the deceased. he is then gone away, and his body is quite worthless; when the soul has recommenced its wanderings, the body may be consigned to the brutal treatment of the lagbas without the least hesitation. no one follows the corpse to the home of the vultures when it is carried out of the house at night to be cut up before the sun rises. there is no legal regulation, and when the bodies are numerous, the sun has generally risen before the work is finished. after that, one, or at most two, of the corpses are left till evening and are taken in hand after sunset. this is also because the vultures are satiated with their morning's feed and must have a rest before supper. it is seldom that more than two deaths are reported in gompo-sarpa in one day. about twelve years ago when an epidemic of smallpox raged in shigatse, forty to fifty bodies were removed daily. then, after the vultures had gorged themselves, the rest of the bodies were wrapped in thin shrouds and buried. one would suppose that the dying man would shudder at the thought that, at the very moment when the gates of death were opened for him, his body, with which he was so closely connected during his life, which he had cared for so anxiously, endeavouring to shield it from danger and sickness, nay, from the slightest pain, would be consigned to such barbarous treatment. but probably he thinks more of his soul in his last moments, and counts up the good deeds he has performed and the millions of _manis_ he has recited. there is, then, not the slightest touch of sentiment in the funeral customs of the tibetans and their attitude towards the dead. the children of islam visit the graves of their loved ones and weep out their sorrow under the cypresses, but the tibetans have no graves and no green-covered mounds where they may devote an hour to the remembrance of a lost happiness. they weep not, for they mourn not, and they mourn not, because they have loved not. how can they love a wife whom they possess in common with others, so that there is no room for the idea of faithfulness in marriage? the family ties are too loose and uncertain, and the brother does not follow his brother, the man his wife, and much less his child, to the grave, for he does not even know if the child is really his own. and, besides, the corpse in itself is a worthless husk, and even a mother who has tenderly loved her child feels not a shadow of reverence for its dead body, and has no more horror of the knife of the corpse executioner than we have of the doctor. chapter xxx our life in shigatse the time that was not taken up by visits to tashi-lunpo i occupied in many ways. we had friends to visit us, and i frequently spent many hours in transferring types of the people to my sketch-book, and i found good material among the citizens and vagrants of the town and the monks of the convent. [illustration: . lamas with copper tea-pots. . female pilgrim from nam-tso and mendicant lama. sketches by the author.] on one of the first days the consul of nepal paid me a visit. he was a lieutenant, twenty-four years old, was named nara bahadur chetteri, and bore between his eyes the yellow marks of his caste. he was dressed in a black close-fitting uniform with bright metal buttons, and a round forage cap on his head without a shade, but with a gold tassel, and in front the sun of nepal surrounded by a halo of rays. he had been four months in lhasa and two here. he and his young wife had taken two months to travel from khatmandu; they had ridden the first week, but had then sent their horses back, and had tramped through very dangerous, pathless, mountainous regions for fifteen days; the rest of the journey they had accomplished on hired tibetan horses. here he had to protect the interests of the nepalese merchants and assist the pilgrims of his country when they were in difficulties. the merchants have their own _serai_, called pere-pala, for which they pay an annual rent of _tengas_; they buy wool from the nomads in the north, and pay for it with corn and flour, which therefore is scarce and dear in shigatse, especially during the festival time when so many pilgrims flock in. the consul received _tengas_ a month, or rather less than £ a year, and considered that the maharaja paid him very badly. bhotan has no consul in shigatse, though many pilgrims come from that country. on february i received a very unexpected visit, a lama and an official from lhasa. when the devashung, the government, had received the letter of hlaje tsering announcing my arrival at the ngangtse-tso, the chinese ambassador and the government, after consulting together, had despatched these two gentlemen in forced marches to the lake, where, however, they arrived several days after my departure. singularly enough they had been given quite erroneous information about the route we had taken, perhaps because our wanderings over the ice across the lake in all directions had confused the nomads. therefore they had sought for us for twenty-two days on the shores of the ngangtse-tso and the dangra-yum-tso, until they had at length discovered that we had gone off southwards a long time before. then they had followed our track and had made further inquiries among the nomads, all of whom said that they had been kindly treated, and well paid for all they sold us. the gentlemen rode on, and heard in yeshung that we had passed through a couple of days before; our camp-fires were scarcely cold. they changed horses, and spurred them on at a faster pace, for they had been ordered to force us at any cost to return northwards by the same way we had come. but i had got the better of them, for they did not reach shigatse till thirty-six hours after us, and another party sent from lhasa to intercept us by a more direct road had quite lost our trail in the labyrinth of valleys and mountains into which we had plunged. "we have carried out our mission as well as we have been able," they said, "and it only remains for us to ask for your name and all particulars of your journey and companions." "i have already communicated everything to ma daloi and duan suen, who have seen my passport, but if you want a second edition, you are welcome to it." "yes, it is our duty to send a report to the devashung. in virtue of the treaty of lhasa only the market-towns of yatung, gyangtse, and gartok are free to the sahibs under certain conditions, but no other routes. you have come by forbidden roads and must turn back again." "why did you not close the way to me? it is your own fault. you can inform the devashung that i shall never be content till i have seen the whole of tibet. besides, the devashung will not find it worth their while to place obstacles in my way, for i am on good terms with your gods, and you have seen yourself how friendly the tashi lama has been to me." "we know it, and it seems as though you bore the sign of the favour of the gods on your forehead like caste-markings." "how is hlaje tsering getting on?" "he is suspected of receiving a bribe from you; he has been dismissed, and has lost his rank and all his property." "it is very mean of the devashung to persecute him. but the government is composed of the most despicable rogues in all tibet. you ought to be glad that you are at length properly under chinese protection." at first they exchanged meaning looks, but gradually they came round to my opinion and admitted that their government was a disagreeable association. the reason they had not shown themselves immediately after their arrival was that they wished first to spy out our occupations and our associates; for, if they found out that we had friends, these would of course be denounced. otherwise they were decent men, and readily partook of tea and cigarettes. unfortunately tsaktserkan was just then with me, and he must have thought the affair serious, for he made himself scarce as soon as they entered my tent, but afterwards asked me to tell him what they had said. it impressed them most of all that, in spite of all the ambushes and traps in the form of scouting patrols, who were on the look-out for us, we had after all succeeded in advancing to shigatse. now they would wait for orders from lhasa. no heed was paid to the dalai lama, who was as good as dead and buried. [illustration: . the great red gallery of tashi-lunpo. sketch by the author.] they came frequently during the following days to greet us, and then expressed their opinions of their superiors more and more frankly. their remaining on the scene proved, however, that both the chinese and the government had their eyes on me. i wondered how the affair would terminate. when i returned from the equestrian performance on the th, i found a large packet of letters from major o'connor, and greedily seized letters from home and from friends in india, lady minto, colonel dunlop smith, younghusband, and o'connor himself, who welcomed me most heartily, and expressed a hope that we should soon meet. he had also kindly given me a great surprise with two boxes containing preserved meats, cakes, biscuits, whisky, and four bottles of champagne. fancy my drinking champagne alone in my tent in tibet! i drank a glass at dinner every day to the health of major o'connor as long as the supply lasted. in the chapter on leh i mentioned the hajji nazer shah and his son gulam razul. the old hajji had another son in shigatse, named gulam kadir, who had been ten years in tibet and now managed the branch in shigatse. he sold chiefly gold-embroidered stuffs from china and benares, which the lamas bought for state robes, and he told me that he made a yearly profit of rupees. a bale of such material as he showed me was worth , rupees. gulam kadir rendered me many services at this time, and supplied us with anything we wanted. there is a fine view from the roof of his house of the dzong, or fort, the stately front of which seems to grow out of the rock. the windows, balconies, roof decorations and streamers have a harmonious and picturesque effect. in the middle of the structure is a red building; all the rest is white, or rather an undecided greyish-yellow colour, which the plaster has assumed in the course of time. at the southern foot of the dzong hill lies the open market-place, where trade was carried on two hours a day. there are no tables and stands, but the dealer sits on the dusty ground and spreads out his wares on cloths or keeps them beside him in baskets. in one row sit the dealers in implements and utensils, in others boards and planks are sold, ironware, woven goods, coral, glass beads, shells, sewing thread, needles, dyes, cheap oleographs, spices and sugar from india, porcelain, pipes, figs and tea from china, mandarins from sikkim, dried fruits and turquoise from ladak, yak hides and tails from the chang-tang, pots, metal dishes, covers and saucers manufactured in the town, religious books and other articles for the use of pilgrims, etc. straw and chaff, rice, grain, _tsamba_ and salt are sold by many traders. walnuts, raisins, sweets, and radishes are other wares in which there is a large trade. horses, cows, asses, pigs, and sheep are also on sale; for the last, rupees a head are asked. in chang-tang we had paid at most rupees, and a sheep can be got for rupees. every kind of ware has its particular place, but the traders, so far as i could see, were all tibetans; for the merchants of ladak, china, and nepal have shops in their own houses. [illustration: . chhorten in tashi-lunpo. sketch by the author.] most of the traders are women, and they sell even hay, firewood, and meat. they wear huge coils of hair with inferior turquoise, glass beads, and all kinds of pendants, which contrast strongly with their faces smeared with black salve. if they would dispense with this finery and give themselves a good washing instead, some of them would perhaps look quite human. what was the original colour of their clothes is hard to guess, for they are now caked with dust, soot, and dirt. but these hucksters are always polite and obliging; they sit in rows parallel to the north wall of the chinese town, which is little more than a ruin. now and then a mule caravan passes along the pathway between the rows, bringing new goods to market. frequently gentlemen partly dressed in chinese fashion ride past from the dzong; and among the swarms of customers are seen all kinds of people--clergy and pilgrims, children of the country and strangers, white turbans from ladak and kashmir, and black skull-caps from china. in the market all the gossip of shigatse is hatched; all sorts of reports more or less probable reach us from there. as soon as any one comes from lhasa he is driven almost frantic with questions, for all take a deep interest in the new chinese régime. it was current in the bazaar that lamas in lhasa were organizing a bloody insurrection against the chinese, because the latter had demanded that half the lamas should serve in the army. it was further reported that i and my companions would soon be compelled to leave the country, and that before very long the english commercial agency in gyangtse would be closed. every one who has heard anything fresh carries it at once to the market, where the visitors who come to hear news are as numerous as those who make purchases. in a word the market is shigatse's only newspaper. gulam kadir told me that the two gentlemen from lhasa employed spies, who reported daily all that they could find out about us. these men used to come as hawkers into our tents and sit there by the hour. ma also encompassed us with spies. with the help of gulam kadir i set two ladakis as spies to spy upon the spies of the lhasa spies. we could now be on our guard, for we knew what was going on around us. my own ladakis enjoyed in shigatse a very necessary period of rest. i gave them money for new clothes, which they made up themselves; in a few days they appeared in all the glory of a new outfit from head to foot. nor could i refuse them a jug of _chang_ daily; they very seldom drank too much, after one of them one day under the influence of beer painted his face black, and in this guise made ridiculous pirouettes about the court. muhamed isa happened to come home from the market just at the moment, and, catching hold of the dancer, gave him such a thorough drubbing that he never thought of painting himself again. both chinamen and tibetans said that the conduct of my men was exemplary and gave no cause for quarrels. but to hear tsering's singing in the evening! it was like the creaking of a badly oiled wicket-gate to a shed in my own country, and therefore i listened with pleasure to his rude song. when he had sung for three hours on end, it became a little too much, but i put up with it--it is so pleasant to have cheerful, contented men about one. under february the following entry stands in my diary: "in spite of the windy, dusty weather i have all day long been sketching various types, chiefly women, who sat for me as models in front of my tent." the first were from nam-tso (tengri-nor) (illustration ), wore head-dresses decorated with shells, china beads, and silver spangles, and in their sheepskins trimmed with red and blue ribands looked like girls from dalecarlia. they had large bones, were strongly built, looked fresh and healthy, and their broad faces were remarkably clean. the women of shigatse, on the other hand, had smeared their faces with a brown salve mixed with soot which looked like tar. this mask makes them hideous, and it is impossible to tell whether they are pretty or not; the black colour interferes with the lights and shadows, and confuses the portrait painter. one had painted only her nose and rubbed it bright as metal. this singular custom is said to date from a time when the morality of the lhasa monks was at a low level, and a dalai lama issued orders that no female should show herself out of doors unless painted black, so that the charms of the women might be less seductive to the men. since then the black paint has remained in fashion, but seems now to be going out. the clothes are always black with age, dirt, and soot. the women pay most attention to their head decoration, and the higher they are in the social scale the more profusely they deck their coiffures with bows, pendants, and jewelry. the hair is frequently so closely entwined with all this finery that it can scarcely be let down every night, but only when it becomes so entangled that it must be put straight. those who are rich wear large heavy ear-rings of solid gold and a few turquoises, but others simpler and smaller rings. on the neck are worn chains of various coloured beads and _gaos_, small silver cases studded with coral and turquoise and containing amulets. poor women have to be contented with copper _gaos_ of the clumsy kind so common among the tsaidam mongols. a woman of forty belonging to shigatse was named tashi-buti; she looked sixty, for women age very soon here. above her ordinary clothing she wore a coarse shawl over the shoulders, fastened in front with brass clasps, plates, and rings. [illustration: . portal in tashi-lunpo.] [illustration: . group of lamas in tashi-lunpo.] a nomad woman from kamba had the right arm and shoulder bare, and was as powerfully and muscularly built as a man, but was so horribly dirty that it was impossible to perceive her complexion. she had no head-dress; but the dark hair was plaited into innumerable thin rat's tails hanging over the shoulders, and tied together on the forehead into a mane of cords. she would have been good-looking if her features had not been so masculine; she sat still and solemn as a statue of buddha. a fifteen-year-old girl had a parting in the middle, and her hair frizzed in two pads down to the ears, which were combed, oiled, and shiny like those of a japanese, and she wore a diadem studded with coral. she was dainty and clean and had rosy cheeks (illustrations , , ). burtso was a little shigatse lady of seventeen summers, and bore the dirt of those seventeen summers on her face. like most of the others her features had the sharply marked characteristics of the mongolian race--oblique narrow eyes contracting to a point at the sides, and the lower part of the eyelid telescoped into the upper so that a slightly curved line is formed and the short lashes are almost covered; the iris is dark chestnut brown, and appears black within the frame of the eyelids; the eyebrows are usually only slightly marked, are thin and irregular, and never form the finely curved persian and caucasian arch like a crescent. the cheek-bones are rather prominent, but not so high as with the mongolians; the lips are rather large and thick, but the nose is not so flat as among the mongols. faces with handsome features are seen among the male tibetans. but the differences between individual tibetans are often as great as between tibetans on the one hand and mongols, chinamen, and gurkhas on the other. the nomads of the chang-tang are apparently a tribe of themselves, and seldom, if ever, intermarry with the others. otherwise the tibetan people is undoubtedly much mixed with neighbouring elements. chinamen living in lhasa and shigatse marry tibetan women. in the himalayas, south of the tibetan frontier, live the bothias, a mixed people, sprung partly from indian, partly from tibetan elements. the people of ladak have mingled to a large extent with their aryan and turkish neighbours, because they have been in closer and more active contact with them. the tibetan people present remarkable and peculiar problems in anthropological, ethnographical, and linguistic science, which must be solved by future investigation. i drew on and on, and one type after another found its way into my sketch-book. the expression of my models is listless and devoid of animation; they seem absent-minded and passionless. they take little interest in the proceedings; all they care about is to pocket the rupees after the sitting. they sit motionless, without laughing or complaining. they are rather too solemn, and not a smile plays round the corners of their mouths when their eyes meet mine. i passed the greater part of the day in this silent, apathetic female society. now and then comes a party of inquisitive people to watch me, tibetans, chinamen, or pilgrims who want to have something to tell when they get home again to their black tents. they stand round me, wondering whether it is dangerous to be drawn by a european and what is the object of it. of course there are many spies among them. there is an endless variety of types and costumes, and as i ride through the streets and see the inhabitants at their various occupations, i feel oppressed by the thought that i have not time to draw them all. here stands a man splitting wood, there come two young fellows driving before them asses laden with twigs and branches. there go a couple of women with large water-jugs on their backs, while small girls collect cattle dung from the street. here a group of officials approaches in yellow garments on fine horses, while some lamas stroll slowly towards the monastery. all is so picturesque, so charming for the pencil; one is constantly delighted with attractive subjects, genre pictures of unusual character, strikingly grouped parties of salesmen and customers; one could spend months here, drawing again and again. i am grieved at the prospect of an early departure. [illustration: . lecture in tashi-lunpo. sketch by the author.] in the afternoon a company of dancers, male and female, frequently appears in the court and gives no despicable performances, reminding me strongly of the dances in leh. they are always introduced by our little old mother mamu, who has the management of the garden, and hops about smiling and friendly as a sparrow. she speaks urdu, so robert employs her as interpreter. then come caravans, bringing hay, firewood, chaff, and barley for our remaining animals, or provisions for ourselves, and people are constantly coming to sell all kinds of goods--chickens, eggs, butter, or fish from the tsangpo; milkmen run with their clattering metal cans, and stringed instruments and flutes make music in our groves. a beggar comes up like a troubadour to my tent with a lute, and sings a melodious air. when i look at him he stops singing and puts out his tongue. barefooted boys, who could be no blacker if they were drawn twice up a chimney, run about laughing loudly, and peep out from among the trees. three of them perform on a tight rope, dance like professional rope-dancers, and beat drums, while they turn summersaults all mixed up together (illustration ). pious visitors also frequent my courtyard: two nuns, for instance, with a large _tanka_ representing a series of complicated episodes from the holy scriptures. while one chants the explanation, the other points with a stick to the corresponding picture (illustration ). she sings so sweetly and with so much feeling that it is a pleasure to listen to her. or a mendicant lama comes with his praying mill in his hand and two hand-grooves hung by a strap round his neck. in these he pushes his hands as in a curry-comb, when he prostrates himself on the ground in making a circuit of the temple. they are much worn, and this moves the hearts of the people to generosity, so that his alms bowl is filled daily. these pious men are the parasites of tibet, living at the expense of the working population. and yet they are endured and treated by every one with the greatest consideration and respect. to give them a mite brings a blessing on the giver. the people are kept by the lamas in spiritual slavery, and the lamas themselves are docile slaves to those tomes of narrow-minded dogmas which have been stereotyped for centuries, which may not be interfered with or criticised, for they are canonical, proclaim the absolute truth, and stand in the way of all free and independent thought. the clergy form a very considerable percentage of the scanty population of this poor country. without the peter's pence tibet could not make both ends meet. tashi-lunpo is, then, a huge savings-box, in which the rich man places his pile of gold, the poor man his mite. and with what object? to propitiate the monks, for they are the mediators between the gods and the people. scarcely any other land is so completely under the thumb of the priests as tibet. and while the people toil, the monks gather round their tea-pots and bowls of _tsamba_ at the summons of the conch. on three evenings in succession large numbers of wild-geese have flown low over our garden from north-west to south-east. the ravens are as bold as usual; of other birds only sparrows roost in our trees. our camp within the wall is quiet, but we have posted a night-watch outside, for in a town like shigatse, full of all sorts of vagabonds, there are many scoundrels. two monks, who were with me one evening to answer my inquiries, durst not return to tashi-lunpo in the dark, unless i sent some of my men armed with guns to take them home. recently a lama was attacked at night between the town and the monastery and stripped to the skin. on february , after only . degrees of frost, it snowed all day long, the wind howled dismally through the poplars, and the snow fell on my tent. nothing was to be seen of the golden temple roofs, and the ground and the mountains were white; there was no one in the bazaar, and no inquisitive visitors pestered us. it was just as in the chang-tang. [illustration: . female pilgrims from the nam-tso.] [illustration: . tibetans in shigatse. sketches by the author.] on march gulam kadir paid me a farewell visit, for he was going next day to lhasa, which, according to his reckoning, was nine days' journey distant. as he would pass through gyangtse, he took a large letter-bag to major o'connor. on the day before, he had sent off a caravan of yaks laden with brick tea to ladak. a yak carries bricks, and a brick costs in shigatse rupees, but in ladak to . it is only the refuse of the tea, which is despised in china, but is good enough for tibetans and ladakis. gulam kadir hires the yaks at a cost of rupees a head to gartok--uncommonly cheap, but they follow the mountain paths and their keep costs nothing. they are five months on the way, for the caravan makes short marches and stays at places where grass grows luxuriantly. from gartok, where the hajji nazer shah has a large warehouse, managed by gulam razul, the tea is transported on other yaks. by a single caravan of this kind the commercial house of the hajji makes a very large profit. musk, coral, chinese textiles, and other valuable goods are forwarded on mules along the great highway which runs along the tsangpo and the upper indus. i had on several occasions met kung gushuk, the duke, in the monastery, and had thanked him for his kindness in sending my letters to the lakes, but it was not till march that i paid him a visit in his house. the walls in the entrance hall are painted with tigers and leopards. in the court, round which the stables and servants' quarters are situated, a large black watch-dog, with red eyes and a red swollen ring round his neck, is chained up, and is so savage that he has to be held while we pass. after mounting two ladder-like staircases we come to the reception-room, which is very elegant, and has square red pillars with carved capitals in green and blue. along the walls stands a row of shrines of gilded wood with burning butter-lamps in front of them, and over them hang photographs of the tashi lama which were taken in calcutta. the rest of the walls are draped with holy banners (illustration ). the trellised window pasted over with paper, which occupies nearly the whole length of the wall towards the courtyard, and is draped with white curtains on the outside, is placed rather high above the floor. immediately below the window runs a long divan mattress, on which a square cushion covered with panther skin marks the seat of honour. before this cushion stand two small stool-like lacquered tables on golden feet. seated here one has on the left hand, against the shorter wall, a cubical throne with steps leading up to it, and here the tashi lama takes his seat when he visits his younger brother, now twenty-one years of age. kung gushuk is, then, quite young. he is very shy, and is evidently relieved when his guest talks and he is not obliged to strain his own small, poorly furnished brain. his recollections of india, whither he had accompanied his illustrious brother, were very hazy: he did know that calcutta is a large town, and that the weather was excessively hot there, but for the rest the journey seemed to be to him only an unintelligible dream. he did not venture to give an opinion on the journey before me, but said openly that the lamas did not like to see me so often in tashi-lunpo. his wife had sent to ask me if i would take her portrait, and i now begged to be told what time would suit her. "any time." when i went away, her highness was standing with her black court ladies at the other end of the open gallery surrounding a court (illust. ). i saluted her politely, and certainly fascinated the lady as i passed; there was no danger, as she was quite _passée_, for she had belonged in common to kung gushuk and an elder brother, who died in sikkim on the return from india. it is said that she rules the house and keeps the finances in order, and with good reason, for kung gushuk leads a fast life, is over head and ears in debt, and plays hazard. this is bad form in a brother of the tashi lama. [illustration: , , . tibetan girl and women in shigatse. sketches by the author.] on march the portrait-drawing came off; it was executed in the large saloon and in pencil. the duchess is big and bloated, and asserted that she was thirty-three years old--i should put her down at forty-five. her complexion is fair and muddy, the white of her eyes is dull. she had put on for this occasion all the finery she could find room for; a pearl pendant which hung on the left side of her façade had cost rupees. in her hair were thick strings of pearls, bunches of coral and turquoises. she was friendly and amiable, and said that she did not mind how long she sat, if only the result were good. her small carpet-knight of a husband sat by and looked on, and round us stood the other inmates of the house, including a small brother of kung gushuk and the tashi lama. they drank butter tea, but did not offer me any, which made the visit all the pleasanter (illustration ). then we were shown the other apartments, which even on sunny days are dark as dungeons, for the windows are small, the paper thick, and the white curtains outside help to increase the gloom. a small oratory with red pillars was so dark that the images of the gods could scarcely be distinguished. in the study of the duke a low divan stood at the window, with paper, inkstand, pens, and a religious book on a table in front of it. the bedroom was adorned with _tankas_, statues, and cups. here and there butter-lamps struggled with the darkness, while braziers of brass on stands of dark carved wood were used to counteract the chilliness of the air. the whole house is like a temple, which is quite as it should be when the owner is brother of the grand lama. two passages connecting parts of the upper storey are not covered in, so are exposed to all the winds of heaven. a third staircase leads to the top of the roof, which is surrounded by a parapet a yard high, and is white-washed. a thicket of roof decorations and bundles of rods with streamers frightens away evil spirits. there was a violent wind, and dust and bits from the streets of shigatse flew up in the air, so that our eyes received their share. with the portrait-drawing the visit lasted four good hours, and at the end i had become as intimate with the family as if i had known them from childhood. chapter xxxi political complications in the first chapters of this book i described very briefly the difficulties placed in my way by the english, and told how the liberal government in london had not only refused the favours i had asked for, but had even tried to suppress my expedition altogether. in consequence i had been compelled to make a wide detour all through the chang-tang, where more than once our lives hung by a thread, and we had suffered great losses. then we met with a weak resistance on the part of the tibetans, but, nevertheless, came to shigatse; it was pure good luck that the patrols sent out to intercept us had not fallen in with us. on february the representatives of the tibetan government had intimated to me that i had no right to make a prolonged sojourn in tibet, and that i must leave the country. as though i had not enough to do with the english, indian, and tibetan governments, the chinese government also appeared on the scene on february . i was now opposed to a fourfold combination of governments, and wished all politics and diplomatists at jericho. on this day the young chinaman duan suen appeared on behalf of gaw daloi, the chinese political agent in gyangtse. he brought me a letter from him with the following curt contents: [illustration: . a chinaman in shigatse. . a tibetan in shigatse. . a lama in tashi-lunpo. . door-keeper in tsong kapa's temple. sketches by the author.] agreement between great britain and china, signed in pekin in the year , § : the government of great britain binds itself not to annex any tibetan territory, and not to interfere in the administration of tibet. convention concluded on september , , § b: no representative or agent of any foreign power shall receive permission to visit tibet. duan suen also conveyed to me by word of mouth gaw daloi's message that i must on no account travel to gyangtse, as i had forced my way to shigatse without a passport or permit, and that only one route was open to me, that through the chang-tang, by which i had come. i answered as curtly that gaw daloi should apply to major o'connor, the british representative in gyangtse, if he wished to learn anything about me, instead of sending me impertinent letters. it had been my plan and desire to visit o'connor. i knew him very well by repute; he had loaded me with kindnesses, and i knew that he was one of the very few who had a thorough knowledge of tibet. we had been in constant correspondence with one another since my arrival. i had explained to him my ideas about the western continuation of the great mountain system, and o'connor had replied that he had always longed to explore the extensive unknown parts in the interior of tibet, and had long suspected the existence of a mighty mountain system to the north of the tsangpo. i had still an imperfect knowledge of this system, and therefore i proposed to o'connor that we should in future call the mountains nien-chen-tang-la after the lofty peak on the south shore of the tengri-nor. it would have been of the greatest advantage to me to meet a man like major o'connor just at this time (illustration ). meanwhile i soon began to regard the affair in a different light, for i perceived that in gyangtse i should find myself in a worse position than in shigatse. as long as i remained in shigatse, the chinese did not know what to do with me, but in gyangtse the provisions of the treaty would at once become applicable to my case, and i might be obliged to retire southwards to india. gaw daloi's prohibition with regard to gyangtse irritated me a little, but i suspected him of using it as a stratagem, and all the more because the authorities of shigatse offered at the same time to let me baggage animals on hire for my journey thither. tsaktserkan, as well as ma, knew that i had received a letter from gaw, and ma had long negotiations with the gentlemen from lhasa. evidently a political intrigue was going on, and all depended on my playing my cards well. as early as february i had noticed that the lamas were afraid of the chinese because of my frequent visits to the monastery, and were becoming more reserved daily. i, however, quietly continued to place myself under their noses, and even to draw the sakya-tubpa (buddha). the chinese pretended to fear that the english would reproach them with a breach of the treaty if they suffered me to sojourn on forbidden ground. my english friends, on the contrary, rejoiced at my success and hoped that i should continue to hold out. meantime a change might come any day, and therefore i lived in the greatest agitation. in my answer to gaw daloi i begged him to have no anxiety lest i, a swede, should have any intention of annexing tibetan territory, and as to § , he had not quoted it fully, for it ran as follows: "the government of tibet undertakes not to allow a representative or agent of any foreign power to visit tibet without the previous consent of the government of great britain." this paragraph did not apply to my case, for i was already in tibet, and it did not concern me what agreements the two governments had made together. my case must be treated from quite a different standpoint. ma had at first consented to send my letters to gyangtse, but now he refused, with the excuse that he might seem too ready to oblige me. therefore muhamed isa had to ride off on february for gyangtse, to carry my letter and passport to gaw daloi, and also to take rupees in sovereigns, which major o'connor had promised to exchange for silver coins. i also sent a long telegram to the english prime minister, asking for the "consent of the government of great britain," as the government of tibet had hitherto placed no practical obstacles in my way. to this telegram i received no reply. [illustration: . dancing boys with drums. sketch by the author.] on february gaw's answer arrived--not by muhamed isa, but by a special messenger; this was diplomatic but imprudent. gaw wrote that he could not believe i would break a treaty between two great nations for the sake of scientific exploration, that my chinese passport was not valid here, and that if i were allowed to travel about in tibet, russians and englishmen might claim the same privileges. he concluded with the words: "i have received orders from my government to arrest you at once, should you come to gyangtse, and send you with a guard of soldiers across the indian frontier." i afterwards learned that he had not a single soldier, and that if he had had the whole chinese army at his command, he could not have used it against me, if i were staying in gyangtse as a guest in the british agency. i replied, however, that i was quite willing to set out, in a north-westerly direction, if gaw could provide me with a sufficiently large caravan. on march ma visited me. he was quite beside himself. the amban lien in lhasa had sharply reprimanded him because, with native and chinese soldiers under his command, he had not been intelligent and watchful enough to prevent my coming to shigatse. he had now to inform me that i must leave the town at once, and asked me to tell him on what day i proposed to start. "not for a good while yet," i replied. "the caravan which is to take me back across the chang-tang must be ready first." the monks also had been advised from lhasa to have as little to do with me as possible. my sojourn in shigatse had, then, given rise to an exchange of notes and telegrams between lhasa, gyangtse, shigatse, pekin, calcutta, and london, and quite against my will i had become a small apple of discord among politicians. my position was so uncertain that i left no stone unturned. the swedish minister, herr g. o. wallenberg, did all he could in pekin to obtain for me the permission of the chinese government and a passport; he spoke with all the high mandarins, but they with the greatest affability appealed to the treaties in force. the japanese embassy in pekin also made representations, at the request of count otani (kioto), but received the astonishing answer that, if i were in tibet at all, which was very doubtful, i must be at once expelled from the country. so i met with refusals on all sides. but i was strong in one respect: i stood alone, while my opponents were hampered by having to pay respect to one another's susceptibilities. meanwhile i was initiated little by little into the mysteries of tibetan politics. tsaktserkan, sent by the tashi lama, used to visit me at dusk. he asked me how it came about that, after the english had been victorious against tibet, china reaped all the advantages of the victory, and china's power increased in the country while england's prestige declined. the tashi lama was much disturbed by the continued absence of the dalai lama. immediately after his return from india he had sent presents to the dalai lama, and written several letters to him, but had never received a reply. the dalai lama had been his tutor, and he was grieved that he could not help him in his difficult situation. the authorities at lhasa were incensed against tashi-lunpo, and asserted that the tashi lama had been bribed by the english not to take part in the war. the tashi lama sent to ask me if i thought that the emperor of china was angry with him because of his journey to india, to which i answered that in my opinion the emperor would be pleased if the tashi lama maintained peace with his powerful neighbour to the south, and if there was a good understanding between tibet and india. then on march i received a remarkable letter from gaw daloi. he advised me "in strict confidence" to write to chang yin tang (tang darin, or the imperial chinese chief commissioner in tibet), and to the amban lien yü in lhasa, requesting their excellencies to grant me permission as a particular favour to travel through gyangtse to sikkim; he had no doubt that they would agree to the proposal. first, he had written to me that his government had ordered him to arrest me if i came to gyangtse, and now he advised me to go there. but by acting contrary to the orders of his government, he gave me a dangerous hold over him: i had him now in my power, and regarded him as out of the running. i then learned in a roundabout way that his letter had been written in accordance with orders from lhasa, where it was feared that i might not be easily got rid of if i were permitted to penetrate further into tibet on my return journey. ma informed me that he had orders to keep couriers in readiness for me, and that a letter would reach lhasa in five days. i now wrote to the tang darin, telling him that i would on no account act against the wishes of the chinese government by travelling through gyangtse, but intended to return towards the north-west, if his excellence would command that yaks should be placed at my disposal. as a swede, i belonged to a country which had from ancient times been on friendly terms with china, and had no political interests in tibet. at the same time i wrote also to lien darin, and represented that neither the chinese nor the tibetan government had any reason to complain of my journey to shigatse; if my coming were displeasing to them, they should have prevented me in good time. on the contrary, they ought to be grateful to me for calling attention to the possibility of traversing their country, and i advised them to be more watchful in future if they wished to exclude europeans. i should not think of travelling to india, for my people were mountaineers and would drop down in the heat like flies; they were, moreover, british subjects, and i was answerable for their safe return to leh. it was impossible to travel through the chang-tang, but i would willingly follow a route on the north side of the tsangpo, where there were nomads. if they wished to get rid of me, they should not render my return more difficult, but rather facilitate it in every way. when, therefore, the lhasa gentlemen and the deputies from the shigatse dzong urged me that same day to start without delay, i was able to reply that it could not possibly be done till ten days later, for it would take so long to receive an answer from lhasa. our position was still like an imprisonment, though everything was done to get rid of us. on march i was in tashi-lunpo for the last time. now i was excluded from the monastery, for i had been expressly requested to cease my visits for fear of the suspicion of the chinese. i promised, but on condition that i should first be permitted to see the ngakang, where the vestments and masks are stored. when this was declared impossible, we at last came to an agreement that some vestments, masks, and instruments should be brought to my garden, where i should have an opportunity of sketching them. the objects were brought at night, and while i drew them in the daytime, a watch was kept round the house so that the lamas need not fear being caught. so we came to march , when tashi arrived with my last yaks, which were so worn out that they were handed over to a dealer at a nominal price. [illustration: . wandering nun with a tanka depicting a religious legend and singing the explanation. (in our garden in shigatse.)] [illustration: . gandÄn-chÖ-ding-gompa, a nunnery in ye.] under march the following entry appears in my diary: "in this holy land the spring is heralded in by kettle-drums and trumpets shriller than any that are sounded at dawn from the temple roofs, and summon the lamas to their first tea. storms, dark masses of cloud, and dust whirling along the ground, and hiding all the environs except the dzong fort, which peeps through dust-mist like a dismal phantom ship. the temperature rises, and in the day is several degrees above freezing-point, but there is no other sign of spring. it will come sometime or other, if it is now turning in bed and trying to rub the winter sleep out of its frozen eyes. to-day raged one of the most violent storms we have experienced. the bells of the monastery rang like storm bells, but their sound did not reach us amid the howling of the tempest. the kitchen has been removed into the house, no one is seen on the courtyard, and there is a cracking and whistling among the poplars. now and then are heard the bells of a courier's horse which canters by the outer wall, and perhaps brings new instructions regarding me. ma makes no sign, lobsang tsering has disappeared, and tsaktserkan comes only when i send to ask him. we are more and more isolated, no one dares associate with us. our position is exciting and even interesting. it is evident that we must leave shigatse, but by which route? i have already told them that i will not go through gyangtse or khatmandu (capital of nepal), as ma proposed to me, and to equip here a caravan for the chang-tang is out of the question. i have only one goal, the north of the tsangpo, where most important discoveries await me. at the moment we are on the point of leaving shigatse we find ourselves for the first time actually prisoners; as long as we remain here we have at any rate freedom within our own walls. and as long as i am in tibet, i am _tabu_ to the english, but as soon as i cross the british frontier i am done for. i cannot go to eastern turkestan, for the chinese government has, as i hear from gaw, cancelled my passport, because it has been used for another country. to travel direct to china with ladakis will also not do. but if i am compelled to make for sikkim, i must dismiss the ladakis and travel alone to pekin to explain the affair to the mandarins." on march the two gentlemen from lhasa came to me again. they had been to gyangtse, and had received orders from gaw to watch all my movements carefully. again they wished to know the day of my departure, and i replied that i could come to no decision until i knew by what road i should travel. if it were to the chang-tang, they might count on a long delay, and might meanwhile buy a house and marry at their leisure. they now complained themselves of the increased power of the chinese in tibet, and gave their opinion that only the unrest arising from the new strict régime in lhasa had rendered it possible for me to travel across tibet unnoticed. in this they were probably quite right. the blunder of the dalai lama and the unexpected change of front on the part of the english had given the chinese an opportunity of establishing their supremacy over tibet more securely than they had been able to do since the days of kang hi and kien lung in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. of the prestige of england i could not perceive a shadow, and i heard that the tashi lama regretted his journey to india. perhaps it was prudent of the liberal government in london to give up chumbi, and by barring the frontier to exclude all possibility of boundary disputes and friction on the indian side; for in our times the old asia is beginning to waken out of its deep sleep, and the great powers of europe which have interests there should rather seek to retain what they already possess than endeavour to make fresh acquisitions. at any rate the chinese statesmen exhibited on this occasion admirable prudence and vigilance, and gathered in all that the english gave up. if ever the dalai lama returns safely to lhasa, he must content himself with the reverence accorded to him in the potala as an incarnation, and he will not be allowed to have anything further to do with political affairs. the country of tibet will doubtless in the future be closed as strictly as hitherto; for the supremacy over tibet is a political question of the first importance to china, not only because tibet is, as it were, a huge fortress with ramparts, walls, and ditches protecting china, but also on account of the great spiritual influence which the two popes exercise over all mongolians. as long as china has the dalai lama in its power, it can keep the mongols in check, while in other circumstances the dalai lama could stir them up to insurrection against china. and mongolia is also the buffer state between china and russia. on march our prospects grew bright at last. ma had had a meeting with the two lhasa gentlemen and the authorities of the shigatse dzong. the last came to me and begged me to inform them whither i meant to travel. i answered: "along the raga-tsangpo to its source." the gentlemen who had held the meeting, had meanwhile apparently come to the decision of taking the responsibility on themselves of the consequences of my journey to the west. but they firmly insisted that i must take exactly the same route back to yeshung by which i had come, that is, through tanak and rungma, or they would get into trouble. when it was thus settled that we were not to go to gyangtse, i sent muhamed isa to major o'connor with all the maps, drawings, and the results hitherto acquired; the whole despatch afterwards reached colonel dunlop smith in calcutta in good condition. we had rupees more in gold exchanged for silver money, and i wrote a letter of farewell to my good friend o'connor, and likewise to my numerous friends in india. i also wrote home, as usual, in the form of a complete journal. on the th ma came through our gate, triumphantly waving a letter with a large red seal, and called out from a distance: "from the tang darin." the letter was dated on march at lhasa, and i reproduce it here as a specimen of chinese diplomatic correspondence: dear dr. sven hedin--i was much pleased to receive your letter of the th instant, and to hear that you are come to shigatse in order to investigate the geography of the unknown parts of this country. i know that you are one of the famous geographers of europe, that you move about here without meddling in the affairs of tibet, political or otherwise, and carry out only geographical work. i have a great respect for you as a man of science, who seriously advances the progress of earth knowledge. i always value such men most highly and show them the greatest reverence. but, to my great regret, i must inform you that the last treaty between china and great britain contains a paragraph declaring that no stranger, whether he be an englishman or russian, an american or european, has any right to visit tibet, the three market-towns, gyangtse, yatung, and gartok, excepted. you are, then, not the only one to whom the country is closed. i shall be glad, then, if you will return the same way you came, and you will thereby put me under a very great obligation. china and sweden are really friendly powers, and both peoples are true brothers. i hope you will not judge me harshly, for i am bound by the treaty not to suffer you to travel further. i have issued orders to the chinese and native authorities along your route to afford you all the facilities in their power. wishing you a successful journey, i am, yours truly, chang yin tang. the letter leaves nothing to be desired as far as obliging amiability is concerned, but its contents are diplomatically obscure. chinese and native authorities in the chang-tang, where we had not seen a living soul for eighty-one consecutive days! like gaw, he falls back on the treaty signed by great britain to close the most interesting country in the world to exploration. ma knew the contents of the letter, and asked if it were still my determination to follow the raga-tsangpo upwards. if so, the route was open to me. i answered in the affirmative, without showing any sign of my satisfaction, for this road was not sanctioned by tang's letter. now some of the gentlemen of the dzong had to look after the procuring of provisions--all by tang's orders. all of a sudden the authorities of shigatse became very polite, and showered down visits on me, after they found that i was in the good books of the most powerful man in tibet in temporal affairs. six sacks of _tsamba_, a sack of rice, and twelve cubes of brick tea were brought to my courtyard, and exact information was asked for as to the points i intended to touch on beyond the mouth of the raga-tsangpo. however, i did not satisfy them, but said that not a single name up there was known to me. i thought to myself that it was most prudent not to excite suspicion by too many details; the farther we got away from the central authorities the greater prospect we had of being left alone. they inquired how many horses we wanted, and i at once said , so as to be well provided; they went away very quietly, as though they thought that this was a very large number. [illustration: . duke kung gushuk, brother of the tashi lama.] on march muhamed isa came back with the silver money, more letters, and all kinds of articles which major o'connor, with his usual kindness, had procured for me. in the afternoon a great council was held: ma, the two lhasa gentlemen, the whole shigatse dzong, and tsaktserkan--in all, nearly officials, about servants, chinese soldiers, and newsmongers; so that the whole court was filled. the new passport was solemnly read to me. therein the places were mentioned through which i might pass: the raga-tsangpo, then saka-dzong, tradum, tuksum, gartok, demchok, and the ladak frontier. i must not stop at any point, must make long day's marches, and travel straight along the valleys of the brahmaputra and the indus. i considered it useless to make any objections to the regulations; not a word was said of the country north of the tsangpo, where i suspected the existence of the great mountain system. but i thought that we might contrive ourselves in some way or other an excursion thither, and resolved to give them plenty of trouble before they got rid of me. two chinamen, an official of the labrang and one from the shigatse dzong, were to accompany me for the first part of the journey, and then be relieved by four others. the escort was introduced to me. the gentlemen insisted that we should start next day, but i declared that we required two days more to complete our preparations. all the provisions they had hurriedly collected were weighed in their presence, and paid for by me. the brown puppy arranged for the morning of the th an interlude which certainly was not unexpected. inspired by uncivilized ideas about the sanctity of my tent, the bitch had not ventured in for a long time, but now, just as i sat writing my last letter, she came and scratched a hole with her fore-paws in a corner of my tent, whined uneasily, laid her head on my knee, and looked very unhappy, as though she wished me to understand how helpless she felt. before i was aware two very small puppies lay squeaking at my feet. while the young mother was licking her first-born with great tenderness, muhamed isa made a soft lair for the family. puppy had scarcely taken her place on it when two more puppies made their entrance into this queer world. then she probably thought that this was enough, for after a good meal of meat and a bowl of milk she rolled herself up with her well-tended young ones and went to sleep. the new puppies were black as coal and small as rats. i bought a basket for them to travel in until they could follow on foot the caravan in which they were born, and become good caravan dogs. we had tried here, too, in vain to get some good dogs, for our vagabonds from the ngangtse-tso were good watch-dogs but unpleasant companions. now we had suddenly a whole pack, and it would be an amusement to us to watch their development. whatever might be our future fate, we could not reach ladak in less than half a year, and by that time the puppies would have grown big and comical. henceforth puppy was allowed to live in my tent, and we became the best friends in the world, for i was as anxious and careful about the young ones as she. but she would not allow any one to approach who had no business here; scarcely half an hour after the catastrophe she dashed at two boys who were loitering about the court. there was a dreadful whining in the corner of the tent, but both the mother and young ones were as well as could be expected under the circumstances, as it is expressed in society bulletins. in the meantime there was a very busy commotion in our courtyard. the heavy baggage was packed; rice and _tsamba_ for the men, and barley for the horses, sewed up in bags accurately weighed; chinese macaroni, cabbages, onions, fine wheaten flour, spices, potatoes, and as many eggs as we could get, were brought in from the market. the books, which i had received from o'connor, filled a box to themselves, and would be thrown away, one after another, as soon as they had been read. when all had been packed up, my tent looked very bare. on march , our last day in shigatse, the packing was finished and ma chi fu, a young official in chumbi, came from lhasa, bringing me greetings from their excellencies. he was a dungan (mohammedan), spoke gently and politely, and was one of the noblest, most refined, and sympathetic chinamen whom i have known. he was also exceptionally handsome, had large bright eyes, which had scarcely any characteristics of his race, and pure aryan features, and wore a valuable silken cloak. he regretted that he had had no opportunity of showing me hospitality, and begged me to believe that the escort would be only a guard; it was only to watch over our safety, and had orders to serve us to the best of its ability. ma chi fu brought a kind letter from lien darin, the amban of lhasa, in which he wrote: i knew that you were a learned geographer from sweden. i am sorry that in consequence of the treaty i am not now able to make better arrangements for you in tibet, but you are a wise man, and will therefore understand the difficulty in which i find myself much against my will. in all my personal contact and correspondence with the chinese they always showed me the greatest kindness and consideration. they were the masters of the country, and i had no right to travel about in tibet, yet they never made use of hard words, much less of the means of actual compulsion that were at their command, but carried their hospitality as far as was consistent with loyalty to their own country. therefore i retain the most agreeable memories of this and all my former travels. in the evening i bade farewell to good old ma, gave him three useless horses, which would, however, recover with good treatment, and thanked him for all his kindness to me. he expressed a hope that we might meet once more in this life. all who had been of service to us received considerable presents of money, and kung gushuk demanded rupees as rent for his garden. i would have gladly given him several times the sum for the memorable days i had spent under the slender poplars, when the soughing of the spring winds roused me out of sleep. chapter xxxii tarting-gompa and tashi-gembe i was awaked early on march . i mounted my horse, accompanied by robert, muhamed isa, and three men of the escort, while the fourth had gone on with the caravan. muhamed isa conveyed my hearty greetings to the tashi lama, and my wishes that the course of his life might run as smoothly and happily as heretofore. meanwhile, i paid a short return visit to ma chi fu, and had not yet left him when my excellent caravan leader returned with the kindest greetings from the tashi lama and a large silken _kadakh_, which i keep as a souvenir with the image he presented to me. then we rode in close order through the forbidden streets for the last time, and the golden temple roofs disappeared behind us. so, farewell for ever, grand, lovable, divine tashi lama! [illustration: . the little brother of the tashi lama, the wife of kung gushuk, and her five servants.] when we left the side valley of the nyang-chu and came out into the tsangpo valley, we were exposed to the storm coming from the west and covering all the country with a thick cloud of dust. the long white foaming waves of the river rose so high that the farther bank was invisible. the horses were restless and would not go into the skin boat, but at last we brought them all safely over. i now rode a rather large brown horse which i had bought in shigatse. my small white ladaki was still in good condition, but he was exempt from work. only three veterans from leh remained, two horses and a mule. robert rode one of the horses from the ngangtse-tso, and muhamed isa a large white horse from shigatse, where we had also bought two mules; the baggage was transported on hired horses and asses. the caravan had encamped in the village of sadung on the north bank of the tsangpo. ishe had carried the four puppies in his dress on his breast, and had led puppy with a string, that the young ones might be suckled on the way. next morning we awoke in beautiful weather. eastwards were seen a series of brown mountain ridges with shading growing lighter and lighter as they dipped to the river, which stood out in still brighter colouring. the dwellers on the bank here called the brahmaputra tamchok-kamba, and said that it would fall for two months more, and would then rise till it attained its maximum at the end of july. then it floods most of the valley bottom, and rolls majestically down, while all around assumes a fresher hue in the calm air of summer. at the end of september the level of the water becomes lower, and the river freezes only in cold winters. we again retire from the holy districts, and ride through villages standing at the mouths of side valleys, past granitic promontories of the northern mountains, over fields and dunes, and camp, as before, in the garden of the tashi lama in tanak. the four gentlemen that accompany us have brought their servants with them, and provide their own shelter, horses, and food. they have received on setting out a certain sum for this purpose, but for all that live at the expense of the villagers, eat and lodge free of cost, and order fresh horses for every day's march without paying any hire. they keep their travelling money intact in their pockets, and are therefore well pleased with their commission. both on the th and on the th, when we bivouacked in rungma, we had violent storms from noon onwards, which blew in our faces. nothing could be seen of the surroundings, and frequently i could not perceive the man just in front of me. we were pestered with sand, which grated under our teeth, irritated our backs, and made our eyes smart. where the valley was contracted, the compressed wind blew with double strength, and the sand-clouds rolled in a greyish-yellow mass along the brahmaputra valley. we went on the th on to karu in brilliant weather, still along the tsangpo, which, green and free from ice, gently lapped against the southern foot of the mountains. occasionally a boat glided downstream. the wild ducks on the shore are very tame, for no one is allowed to kill them, and, indeed, no one wishes to do so. only a slight local traffic is noticeable. we miss the pilgrims we saw on the journey down; they are now at home again. we leave on the right the small convent chuding with its nine nuns. on the steep mountain flanks are rocky paths used during high water, for the road we follow is quite covered in summer when the river is feet higher. in karu wheat, barley, peas, and radishes are cultivated. we had made a short march, and i had ample time to interrogate the wise men of the village about the geography of the country, the means of communication, the climate, the habits of the river, and the directions of the wind; but i have no room for such particulars in this book. i would rather, instead, introduce our escort to the reader. vang yi tyn is a dungan, born in shigatse; tso tin pang has a chinese father and a tibetan mother, has his home in shigatse, holds the lamaistic faith, and murmurs prayers on the way; lava tashi and shidar pintso are pure tibetans. all four are friendly and ready to help, and tell me in confidence that they mean to do their very best, that i may be pleased with them and give them good testimonials. the last day of the month of march is marked in my journal with an asterisk. while the caravan marched straight towards ye, the rest of us rode up a side valley, at the mouth of which lies the village tarting-choro, surrounded by fields and willow trees. a small well-kept _mani-ringmo_ is covered with stones polished by the river, in which the usual formula is not incised, but another in red and blue characters, namely, "om mati moyi sale do." the figure [symbol: swastika] is many times repeated, and indicates a connection with the pembo sect, while the figure [symbol: swastika] is a mark of the orthodox yellow-caps. [illustration: . the little brother of his holiness with a servant.] farther up lies another village, having a _chhorten_ with a gilded turret in a copse of old trees. a red house is the _lhakang_ (god's house) of tarting-gompa, and behind stands the house of the grand lama, picturesque and unique, built in the usual cubical style, with white steps and flat roof. above it tarting-gompa is throned on its hill like chimre or tikze in ladak (illustrations , , ). we enter the court of the _lhakang_ with its red walls; on two sides a roof is supported by posts, a shed for the riding horses, pack-mules, men and women who carry firewood and goods--a cloister and a caravanserai at the same time, where labour finds harbourage under the protection of religion--and over it waves a long flag from a _tarchen_, a mast standing in the midst of the court. the convent dog is chained up. the gate has an unusually high threshold; on the side walls of the entrance a tiger is painted in fresh colours. we now enter the _lhakang_, and i must confess that i started with surprise in the portal, for we had seen many halls of the gods in tashi-lunpo, but never yet one so large, ancient and so wonderfully fascinating in its mysterious light. what rich and subdued colouring! the sego-chummo-lhakang, as it is called, is like a crypt, a fairy grotto, recalling to mind the rock temples of elephanta; but here all is of red-painted wood, and pillars support the roof. the capitals are green and gold, carved in intricate and tasteful designs, and carved lions, arabesques, and tendrils adorn the projecting beams of the ceiling. the floor consists of stone flags, their cracks filled up with the dust of centuries, so that it is smooth and even as asphalt. the daylight falls into the hall through a square impluvium, spanned by a network of chains. there stands the throne of the tashi lama, who visited the convent two years ago, and is expected again in two years, and opposite is a pyramidal stand, which is hung with lamps at certain festivals. a lama sits all day long at a tall prayer-cylinder (_korlo_ or _mankor_) about feet high, with a pile of loose leaves a foot high in front of him, which he turns over rapidly, and gabbles their contents so quickly that one wonders how his tongue can move so fast. frequently he beats a drum, then he clashes cymbals, or turns the prayer-cylinder in the heterodox direction (illustrations , ). in another saloon, beside this, repose grand lamas of the pembo sect, high priests of tarting-gompa. we find here the same four-sided passage as round the sepulchres of tashi-lunpo. but as i was going, as usual, from right to left, lamas hurried up to stop me. the monuments are like _chhorten_, and are covered with gold plaques and precious stones. twelve statues of deceased high priests have behind them huge gilded halos, richly carved with carefully executed detail. beside shen nime kudun's monument lie two black smoothly-polished round blocks, apparently of porphyry or diabase. on one of them is seen the impression of the foot of the above-named grand lama. on the edge of the other are four impressions, his four fingers, just as though the flat hand with the fingers a little expanded had been pressed against a piece of hard butter. one can try it with one's own hand; the fingers fit in exactly, and the hollows are about / inch deep. it is well and naturally executed--_pia fraus!_ "when was the monastery founded?" i asked. "that was so long ago that no one now living knows." "who founded it, then?" "gunchen ishe loto, long before tsong kapa's time." the lamas spend all their lives in the convents, but have no idea how old these are. then we ascend to the top of the hill, where several convent buildings stand, and are received by a whole pack of vicious dogs. the chief temple hall, dokang-chummo, is built on the same plan as the one below, and has numerous images, some of which are covered with strips and silver cases. we are led from one sanctuary to another, and are astonished at the extremely finely-executed frescoes that cover the walls. a temple in an elevated situation is surrounded by an uncovered passage with balustrades and prayer mills. a grand panorama of wild fissured mountains extends all round. [illustration: . the author drawing the duchess kung gushuk.] we had heard that the evening before our arrival an octogenarian lama had died, and i begged to be allowed to see his cell. but the excuse was made that some monks were reciting the prayers for the dead, and must not be disturbed. however, the house of the deceased was pointed out to us, and we went and knocked at the door of the courtyard. after a long wait a man came and opened it. half of the small court was occupied by a black tent, where two men and a woman were cutting chips of wood feet long, on which prayers and holy texts would be written, and then they would be used to kindle the funeral pyre of the deceased. one was drawing religious symbols and circles on a large paper, which would also be burned. we mounted a short staircase and came to a narrow open verandah before a store-shed with leathern chests containing the clothing of the deceased, and a compartment where his servant lived, who was now engaged in printing prayers in red, on white paper, with a wooden stamp; such strips of paper are burned with the body, and the prayers follow the soul through the unknown realms of space. from here we reach his cell, which is little more than double the size of my tent. there sit two old monks, with their backs against the trellised window. books containing the prayers for the dead lie on a table before them. two others sit on the floor in the middle of the room. all four must pray thrice twenty-four hours, day and night, for the soul of the deceased. the cell has a pillar, and is full of idols, holy vessels, banners, and books--a small museum. i asked if i might buy any of the things, but was told that they must all be handed over to the monastery. the divan bed, partly draped with red hangings, stood against the shorter wall, the head to the window. here sat the body, bent very much forward and with the legs crossed, and the back to the light. it was dressed in coloured garments with shoes on the feet, a thin _kadakh_ over the face, and a head-covering of red and blue stuff somewhat like a crown. before it on the bed stood a stool with images, bowls, and two burning candles. the body is not consumed in this dress. a white frock is put on, and a square cloth is spread over the knees, on which a large circle and other symbols are drawn. a crown (_vangsha_) of paper is set on the head, a square brimless hat, on which a button is fixed within eight broad teeth; it resembles an imperial crown. thus attired the body, in a sitting position, is burned in the hollow of the valley below the temple. a lama carries the ashes to kang-rinpoche (kailas), where they are deposited in a holy _chhorten_. at the age of five years this yundung sulting was consigned by his parents in the year to the care of the confraternity of tarting-gompa, and his convent name was thenceforth namgang rinpoche. he, too, was an incarnation, and stood in high repute for his holiness, wisdom, and learning. on account of these merits he was burned, while the other monks in tarting are cut in pieces. his sister and only relation, an old wrinkled woman, was present. the watchers of the dead were just in the act of eating their dinner, which was placed on a stool--cold dried meat, _tsamba_, and _chang_ (beer). they were shy and astonished, had never seen a european, and did not know whether they should answer my questions as i sat by them on the floor and took notes. i noticed, however, that they were less concerned for themselves than for the deceased. twenty-four hours out of the prescribed seventy-two had passed when i came to interrupt the masses for the dead, and to disturb the soul which was nearly set free. but namgang rinpoche sat still, meditating over the endless enigmatical perspective that the formula "om mati moyi sale do" opened out to him; and as long as i remained in his cell, no awful wonders and signs were seen. [illustration: [signature] . major w. f. o'connor, british trade agent in gyangtse, now consul in seistan.] [illustration: [signature] . captain c. g. rawling.] for my part, i thought of the singular fate of the man whose life had come to an end the day before. as a novice he had left for ever in childhood the free existence among the black tents and grazing herds, said farewell to the world and its vanities, and was received into a community of monks, of whom none now remained alive. he saw his elders die one after another, the young ones grow up to manhood, and new recruits come in. they wandered for a season through the temple halls, lighted the candles, and filled the water-bowls before the statues of the gods, and then passed on to other scenes on the endless road to nirvana. seventy-five years he had been an inmate of the monastery, and had lived in the cell in which his body now lay. how many soles must he have worn out on the same stone floor! for seventy-five years he had searched the holy scriptures and had pondered over an easier existence beyond the funeral pyre; for seventy-five years he had seen the westerly storms driving the sand along the brahmaputra valley. only yesterday, at the point of expiring, he had listened to the sound of the temple bells, which, with their clappers bound with large falcon's feathers, had rung in his passage to the world beyond. and then with tottering steps he had followed the uncertain track of the brethren who had passed away before him. such a life seems hopelessly sad and gloomy. and yet a man who will venture to shut himself day and night within the walls of a dim convent must possess faith, conviction, and patience, for it is a prison which he in the tumult of his mind has chosen of his own free will. he has renounced the world when he allows himself to be walled in alive in the dark courts of tarting; and when the smoke of his pyre ascends, it must, if equal justice be meted out to all, be a pleasant savour before the eternal throne. but evening was coming on, and we must set out again. below in a field a woman was ploughing with two oxen. she was singing loudly and cheerily to lighten her work. we rode on between low mountains, leaving tanka-gompa on our left. when we came down to the plain the darkness was impenetrable, being made denser by thick clouds. a violent north wind arose, bringing cold air from the chang-tang. at length we caught sight of comet tails of shooting sparks--our camp-fire in the ye, where we had halted for a night's rest two months before. we remained two days in the ye or yeshung, and here took some liberties which were not in accordance with the terms of our passport, but the escort made no protest. on the first day we rode to tugden-gompa, a row of cubical, two-storeyed houses painted dark greyish-blue with vertical white and red stripes. the monastery is said to be of the same colour as the famous sekiya, south-west of tashi-lunpo, and also belongs to the sect which allows lamas to marry under certain conditions. the convent has thirty monks, and is directly under the labrang (tashi-lunpo). i will not enter into a full description, but will only say that the _tsokang_, the assembly saloon and reading-room of the lamas, had four red pillars, divans in the nave, and handsome banners on the walls of the side aisles, which were painted on chinese silk, some with dragons on the lower border, some without. the statues for the most part represent monks of high rank (lama-kunchuk, _i.e._ divine lamas or incarnations). before the portal stands a huge bundle of rods with streamers in all the colours of the rainbow, which are already torn by the wind. in an upper hall is enthroned a figure of hlobun-lama, a regular bishop, with mitre, cassock, and crozier. some of these statues are very comical--fat, jolly old boys with a divinely gentle smile on their rosy lips, wide-opened eyes, and chubby cheeks, sometimes with moustaches and imperials. the likeness is probably more than doubtful, but at any rate they are very unlike one another. most of them are wrapped in silken mantles. the labrang here was closed, for the head lama of tugden was gone to the tent of a dying nomad to the north. we visited a monk's cell instead. it had a yard, a stall for the monk's horse, a small dark closet for a kitchen, where a cat kept company with two pots, and a large lumber-room crammed with clothes, rags, images of buddha, books, and tools, in which a novice, the pupil of the monk, lodged. immediately to the south-east of tugden a small poor nunnery, ganden-chöding, lies buried among hills. the _dukang_, a dark crypt with red pillars and neatly carved capitals, is reached through an unpretending portal in the middle of the façade. beggarly offerings, scraps of iron and other rubbish, are hung on nails driven into the pillars. the _serku-lhakang_, the holy of holies, receives its light from the larger hall, and as this is dark, it must be pitch dark in the inner shrine. the statues of chenresi (avalokiteswara) and of the tsepagmed (amitayus) can only be seen with a lamp. [illustration: , . tarting-gompa.] [illustration: . linga-gompa.] [illustration: . lung-ganden-gompa near tong.] [illustration: . inscription and figure of buddha carved in granite near the village of lingÖ. sketches by the author.] the sixteen nuns of the convent are under the control of tashi-lunpo, and the tashi lama provides them with tea once a day; the rest of their food they must beg in the houses and tents, so that some of them are always on the road. now there were only five sisters at home, all dirty, with short hair, and poorly clad. two were young and shy, the others were old wrinkled women with silvery-grey bristles, and in clothes which had been red once, but were now black with dirt, partly soot from the kitchen--a miserable hole, where they spend most of the day. i asked them whether they had attended the festival in tashi-lunpo, but they replied that their means would not allow them except when a charitable person gave them travelling money. i always left a few rupees in the convents i visited, and the inmates were never too holy to take the valuable metal from the hands of an unbeliever. the whole broad valley at ye is begirt by a circle of monasteries. our chinamen had given notice of my visit on april to tashi-gembe, a large convent of monks, who belong to the same colour as the monks of tashi-lunpo. we had an hour's ride to this town of white sanctuaries, which are erected at the foot of a mountain spur. about brethren gave me a civil greeting at the entrance, and led me to the paved court of ceremonies, which has the same appearance as the one in tashi-lunpo, is surrounded by pillared galleries, has numerous pictures of buddha painted in fresco on the walls, and a throne for the tashi lama, who celebrates a mass here once a year. by a staircase of wood and stone, between two pillars of the entrance hall, where the four spiritual kings keep watch on the walls, we enter into a _dukang_, with the usual pillars and divans. on two of these pillars hang complete suits of armour with shirts of mail, casques and tasses of iron scales fastened together with iron rings, maces, spears, tridents, and lances; on one of these lances hangs a white pennant with a brown border; on the pennant are written characters, and on the point of the lance a skull is placed. among the harness _tankas_ are suspended, which, surrounded by silken cloths, look like escutcheons. amid this harness and weapons, which are worn by divine powers when contending with devils, one may fancy oneself suddenly transplanted into an ancient asiatic castle. a gallery runs round three sides, and standards and banners hang down from it, all in fresh colours, tasteful and handsome. in the middle of the altar rank is enthroned sakya-tubpa, the buddha, and before the statues stands a row of polished brass bowls with lights which, mingling with the daylight, cast a magic gleam over the dusky hall. some are filled with crystal-clear water, the nectar of the gods. on one of the longer sides the folios of the kanjur, the collection of canonical books contained in volumes, as many as the beads in a rosary, are arranged in pigeon-holes. the tanjur, the other collection, consists of folios--a caravan of about horses would be necessary to carry the two bibles of the tibetans. only rich monasteries are able to keep both. the thought that no one but themselves has waded through these endless scriptures must inspire a feeling of security in the monks. a layman is unable to confound a monk; he has never had an opportunity of dipping deeply into these everlasting truths. above the idols and the altar runs a frieze of small buddha images forming, perhaps unintentionally, a highly decorative element of the internal architecture of the hall. beside it lies the kasang-lhakang, a temple with sixteen pillars and a statue of the sakya-tubpa. the hall is well lighted with skylights, and abounds in gold and valuables, climbing flowers, sacred trees, and lacquered shrines inlaid with gold. here, too, are holy writings with unusually elegant margins; an embroidered silk cover is laid over each volume. a copper gong is sounded whenever fresh water is poured into the votive bowls. the tsokang is a more elevated hall, which is draped with black hangings striped white at the bottom. monks were sitting in a small open space with a quantity of small articles before them; it was an auction, at which the worldly goods of a departed brother were being sold. i acquired some wooden blocks with which the holy scriptures are printed by hand. [illustration: . tarting-gompa.] [illustration: . sego-chummo lhakang in tarting-gompa. sketch by the author.] in the ganden-lhakang we see two _chhortens_ of gold and precious stones. in one of them are preserved relics of a grand lama, some of his blood, his bones, and his intestines. in a room situated beside this hall we saw with surprise six curious figures of cast iron, representing europeans in the dress of the thirties of the nineteenth century, with tall chimney-pot hats, stiff folded neck-cloths, upstanding collars, and dress coats with high collars, whiskers, and moustaches. they had come from pekin, and were quite out of place here before the tasteful group of buddhas, which was set up in a red lacquered niche, where climbing plants, dragons, and small figures like cupids or angels were beautifully carved. the mankang-lhakang has figures of the higher gods on the walls, and in the middle a prayer cylinder rises from the floor up to the ceiling, ½ feet high, and of such circumference that i laid my outstretched arms four times round it, measuring from finger-tips to finger-tips. its red surface is covered with gigantic golden characters, and round the middle of the cylinder dances a string of goddesses. a smaller hall of the same kind is called mankang-chang. on the upper edge of its prayer cylinder is a peg which, as the cylinder revolves, strikes against the clapper of a bell. an old lama sat before it and kept the cylinder in constant motion by means of a string attached to a crank on the iron axle. it is the duty of himself and another monk to keep this monstrosity humming all the day and half the night, or from sunrise to midnight. as he sat turning, he said his prayers, but he did not murmur them in the usual way. no, he bellowed, he howled out inarticulate sounds, so that he foamed at the mouth, perspired, and groaned, throwing himself violently back at each revolution, and then bending forward again. he was, so i was told, in a religious ecstasy, and did not hear, however loudly one shouted to him. i should prefer the oar of a galley slave to this monster, which cripples any capacity of thinking freely in the darkness of the crypt, where only musty dumb gods can be witnesses of its rotations. i looked at my watch; the bell sounded nine times in a minute, so that the machine makes , revolutions before the midnight hour comes to release the weary monk. we passed the whole day in the wonderful monastery tashi-gembe, which, after tashi-lunpo, is the richest and finest i have seen in tibet. as to cleanliness and good taste, it surpasses all. the temple halls were well lighted by numerous windows, the mid-day sun shone in between the pillars and produced a bewitching play of light and shade, and revealed a charming arrangement of colours between red and gold. some monks sat on a divan and conversed with our companions; they made a clear and effective picture in the sunlight, red on a red background. others leaned against the pillars, solemn as roman senators in their togas, in a flood of sunshine, while a dense group of their brethren was dimly seen under the shadows of the gallery. and where the sunbeams played on the gold of buddha's robe and broke on the leaves of the golden lotus-flower, out of which he rises, reflexions were scattered through the fairy hall, and the pillars shone like transparent rubies. we were dazzled by these effects of light, and might have been transplanted to the halls of the gnomes. in contrast to all this wealth, an old blind man of eighty sat at a street-corner with a staff in each hand, and sang a beggar's ditty. beside him lay a half-starved dog, his only friend in this world. the pitying love of sakya-muni did not extend so far as to release this old man from the bonds of age and suffering. he also found a place in the picture gallery of my sketch-book, which on this memorable day received considerable additions. as ever, i felt myself to be only a passing pilgrim, a wanderer who had crossed the threshold of tashi-gembe for a few hours, and a stranger and guest in the dreary valleys of tibet and its mysterious enchanting temples. the sun had set when we rode home, but the crests of the eastern mountains still glowed as in a rain of transparent gold. in the gently rippling water-channels the wild-geese gathered, screaming, for their spring migration, and the shadows of evening fell over the wide fields of yeshung. [illustration: . bridge to the monastery pinzoling (on the right).] chapter xxxiii the raga-tsangpo and the my-chu on april we journeyed steadily along the way to the west by smiling villages and small convents, and again we approached the bank of the tsangpo, at a place where a swaying rope-bridge is stretched between two loose blocks on the banks. here the river forms rapids, and above this point it is only yards broad, often still less, and the valley above the yeshung expansion is narrow and confined. from the village pusum, where we encamp, is seen the mountain nayala, one of the fixed points in ryder's triangulation. his and rawling's expedition travelled to the south of the tsangpo, and it would be two months more before i should first come in contact with their route. the river will rise a month longer in consequence of the melting of ice in the higher parts of its course in the distant west. the village pusum lies on a steep terrace above the river. cones of detritus descend to the bank, and steep mountains rise on the southern side. the valley is narrow and quite straight, so that pinsoling, the end of the next day's march, can be seen from pusum; it is perched on its rocky promontory like a castle on the rhine. the path passes over steep disagreeable slopes of pebbles. only grey and red granite, with black schist, is seen both in the solid rock and in the débris. almost immediately south of chagha, a village of a couple of stone houses in a grove of old willows, the monastery and dzong of pinzoling appear on the right bank. the river is narrow, and the bank full of round granite boulders a yard in diameter, so the necessary material for a bridge is at hand. two huge pyramids of stone are erected on the banks, and two smaller ones behind them. two thick chains are stretched between them, which pass on to the smaller pyramids, and are made fast again to them. between the chains a network of ropes is stretched like a hammock, and on this narrow planks are laid; on these passengers walk, using the chains as hand-rails. the pinzoling bridge has not been used for three years; any one who wants to cross to pinzoling from chagha must go upstream to ladse-dzong and make use of the ferry there. i inquired how old the bridge was. "as old as the monastery," was the answer. "and how old is the monastery?" a villager answered at random, "a thousand years." another said that this was an exaggeration, for the monastery had been founded two hundred and fifty years ago by a lama named yitsyn tara nara. two hundred monks belong to the monastery of pinzoling, but half of them had gone on their travels. an official of the dzong, with the title of dsabo, lived in chagha, and examined our passport (illustration ). the river was at its lowest level, but during high-water it is said to come up to the chains of the bridge, which seems to me improbable, for they hang fully feet above the surface of the water at their lowest part. a channel remains open in the middle of the river even in cold winters. boats reach the side valley in which shigatse lies in four to five days, but during the summer in two or three days, for then the river flows down with tremendous velocity. it is considered less dangerous to travel in a high flood, for then the boats glide smoothly over boulders and sandbanks, and it is said that a man is very seldom drowned, or a boat's cargo lost. black and dark-purple mountains rise around the village, their surface only visible in some places in strips between belts of drift-sand; they are like tiger skins. near a ridge to the south-west lies a large dune as though it were attached to it. the order of the day for april was that muhamed isa with the hired animals and the baggage should encamp at the point where the raga-tsangpo flows into the upper brahmaputra. the rest of us rode up to a small pass, tsukchung-chang, on a spur of the mountains which extends to the bank of the main river. from the summit there is a grand view over the main valley and its stream, which meanders over gravel and sand in two arms. below we caught sight of mule caravans, mere specks, but their bells filled the valley with their noise. the way runs headlong down to the valley bottom so that we had to engage extra men to carry the baggage, with which the horses could not clamber down the precipitous slopes. large dark fish swam in a stopped-up arm of the river, and here sat shukkur ali with his rod. sand-dunes ten feet high are a common occurrence, and on the steep side, turned from the wind, that is, the east side, pools are often formed. to the south-west opens a large portal with shelving mountains in the background and short side valleys, the whole forming a beautiful scene. through this portal the brahmaputra comes down towards the raga-tsangpo, but this river is known here in its lowest course by the name dok-chu, while the main river is known as the dam-chu (= tamchok). at the confluence no tents were to be seen, and muhamed isa told me afterwards that he could not stay there as the country was quite barren. we therefore rode up the dok-chu valley to the village tangna, consisting of ten stone houses. the inhabitants cultivate peas, wheat, and barley, but cannot count with certainty on a harvest. i would on no account miss seeing the confluence of the two rivers, and therefore ordered my men to descend the dok-chu valley next day to this point. but the escort would not hear of it. it was clearly stipulated in the passport that we must not go backwards and forwards as we liked, but must march straight to ladak. at last they yielded under the condition that the excursion should not last more than one day. in the morning muhamed isa took the boat and the oars down to the river, while ropes, stakes, axes, poles, and provisions were carried by ladakis down to the confluence by the way we had come the day before. on arriving at the bank i found the boat already put together, and took my seat in it with a tibetan who was familiar with the river and handled the oars as skilfully as though he had done nothing else all his life, but he was accustomed to steer his own boat between the banks at tangna, and knew the channel downstream. our voyage through the rapids is exciting and adventurous. the fall of the river is by no means uniform, but changes from place to place, roaring rapids alternating with deep quiet basins. large and small boulders have fallen into the river from the mountain flanks and sometimes it seems impossible to get through them. but the oarsman knows how to steer the boat. we hear the roar of the next rapid from a distance, and keep a sharp look-out in front. some of our ladakis run along the path on the bank and warn us of serious dangers. [illustration: . group of tibetans in the village of tong.] [illustration: . inhabitants of the village of govo.] the boat rushes flying downstream. the boatman sits silent with his teeth clenched and his feet firmly planted against the bottom, and grasps the oars so tightly in his horny hands that the knuckles become white. we had passed successfully several rapids and were gliding pleasantly over a reach of smooth water, when we heard the warning roar of the next rapids, this time louder than ever, and two ladakis stood shouting and gesticulating. i got up in the boat and saw that the dok-chu split into two arms, and that the water dashed foaming among dark sharp-edged boulders. the place looked impassable, the intervals between the boulders seemed much too narrow for the boat, which might any moment have its bottom torn by treacherously hidden stones; over some of these the water poured in bright-green hillocks, and then was scattered into foaming spray. "i shall be glad if all goes well," i thought, but i left the boatman to his own devices. we were soon in the sucking current, which endures no resistance, and flew quicker and quicker towards the two rapids. with powerful strokes the oarsman forced the boat to enter the left branch. the ladakis stood speechless on the bank, and waited till we were wrecked to wade into the rapids and rescue us. now we dashed towards the first block, but the boatman guided his boat into the deepest water and let it slip down a small waterfall, after which we received a thrust from the other side. now the channel became broader but also shallower, and we grazed the bottom, fortunately only with the keel and without springing a leak. the current was strong enough to carry us away over stones and rubbish. after a while the two arms re-unite and the river becomes smooth and deep. the boatman has never changed countenance, and now he helps on with the oars. we are on the north side of the valley, and just at the bend where the river turns southwards the water rages and boils more furiously than ever, and here the undaunted boatman declares that we can go no farther. i hold my breath at the sight of the white foaming water which breaks over the threshold of the fall; the boat will be carried away in a second by the suction of the water and will be infallibly capsized. but just at the right moment the boatman steers our nutshell aside into a bay with a back current, and we are able to land. the ladakis hurry up, draw the boat ashore, and set it afloat again below the waterfall. now we float pleasantly past the steep rocky walls of the southern bank, where the depth is sometimes feet, and sometimes less than a foot. i have a pole and help to hold off the boat from the bank. again we are carried to the northern side of the valley and dance and rock through a series of small lively rapids, usually quite deep enough. now and then we graze the bottom, but the wooden keel resists the thumps. below a gigantic boulder lying in the middle of the stream is a sucking whirlpool, into which we nearly stumble, but we get past safely, and at last arrive at the point where the dok-chu pours its snow-fed waters into the flood of the brahmaputra. the tributary here forms a delta with two branches between gravelly banks feet high. a post was driven in on the left bank of the main arm, to which we fastened one end of a rope, with the other end i rowed over to the right bank, where the rope was fastened to another post. the breadth was yards. then i measured the depth at eleven points at equal distances apart, and found that it did not exceed - / feet. the velocity was measured on the surface, half-way down, and at the bottom, with lyth's current meter. taking the breadth and the average velocity we arrive at the discharge, which in the two arms of the dok-chu amounted to cubic feet per second. where the two streams unite the dok-chu is rapid and tumultuous, the brahmaputra slow, deep, and quiet. its breadth was yards and its maximum depth . feet; the bed is therefore narrow and very deeply excavated. the discharge amounted to feet in the second, or two and a half times that of its tributary the dok-chu. when i had finished this work, our friends tso ting pang and lava tashi accompanied me on a short excursion down the main stream, and then we landed on a promontory where our men lighted a fire and served up the best provisions we had, namely, hard-boiled eggs, slices of cold chicken, and milk. a cordial and mixed party, a swede among tibetans, chinamen and ladakis, we partook of our late dinner amidst the grandest, and most boldly sculptured landscape conceivable. while the others smoked their pipes and sipped their greasy tea, i drew a sketch of the mighty gate of solid granite through which the brahmaputra rolls its volumes of water on its way to the east, to the valley of the dihong and the plains of assam. we should have liked to stay here longer, watching how moment after moment the insatiable stream gathers in its abundant tribute from the dok-chu, but it was growing dark and we had a long way to go back, so we packed up our boat and stowed it on hired horses with the other baggage, mounted into the saddle, and rode up the valley. as had often happened before, we were to-day overtaken by the darkness. rabsang went in front with a tibetan on either side, and all three bellowed as loud as they could. all were in excellent spirits, it was so fresh and pleasant under the twinkling stars, and the merry singers, accompanied by the jingle of the bells on the chinese horses, awoke a shrill echo in the recesses of the mountains. at a dangerous place near a village, where the road runs above the river over a ledge built up of stones, men came to meet us with paper lanterns, and soon after we sat resting in our tents after a hard but very instructive day's work. next day we marched gently up the dok-chu valley in a north-westerly direction, a charmingly beautiful road, where one would like to dismount repeatedly to enjoy conveniently the wild mountain scenery. but now i cannot loiter; one page after another of my journal must be turned over if i am ever to come to an end of my description of this journey on which so many hard experiences and disagreeable adventures awaited us. we ride through rubbish and coarse sand, the weathering products of the grey granite, and pass a succession of transverse valleys and several picturesque villages. one of these, machung, is finely situated at the foot of steep rocks on the northern side of the valley, from which an oval block has fallen down and stands like a gigantic egg in the sand, a pedestal waiting for an equestrian statue. on its eastern side, smoothly polished by wind and weather, a regular tricolour is painted, white in the middle, red on the left and blue on the right, but neither bonvalot nor dutreuil de rhins has left this memorial behind, for no traveller has ever been in the neighbourhood. it is the inhabitants of the village who have made this flag, and beside the tricolour is another symbolical painting, a white cross on a black field. near the village some gnarled trees are reflected in a pool. the villagers stand staring at the corners and in the house-doors, and a man offers my servants a drink of _chang_ from a wooden bowl. the rocks are sculptured into singular forms; the granite is in vertical dykes and stands in perpendicular crags in the valley. we often pass by _mani_ cists, for we are in a country where monasteries are numerous and the whole road is adorned with religious tokens. at every cist the road divides, for no one, except adherents of the pembo sect, omits to pass it on the left, the direction in which the prayer mills revolve. on the tops of many of the rocks are seen ruins of walls and towers, a proof that the valley in bygone times was more densely peopled. at two places sheltered clefts in the rock harbour some stunted juniper trees. on the northern side of the valley the river has at some time polished the base of the granite wall, and on the smooth surface two rock drawings have been executed. they consist of outlines of buddha pictures, and are very artistically drawn. the western has two others beside it, now scarcely traceable, and below them all kinds of ornamentation, tendrils, and designs are hewn in the granite. we encamped just above this spot in a very picturesque and interesting expansion of the valley at the village lingö. part of the inhabitants of lingö migrate in summer with their herds, six or seven days' journey northwards, for the soil round lingö is very poor and the harvest cannot be depended on. the dok-chu cannot be crossed here in summer except by boat; in the winter it freezes over, but seldom so firmly that the ice will bear. the interesting point about this expansion is that the dok-chu, or raga-tsangpo, coming from the west, here unites with our old friend the my-chu, which discharges cubic feet a second. i had the day before calculated feet as the discharge of the dok-chu, so the difference of cubic feet is the volume of water brought down by the raga-tsangpo, and consequently the my-chu is only a tributary. on the other hand the dok-chu pours through several delta arms with rapids into the my-chu which lies lower and flows more gently, and by this test the my-chu should be the main river; it is all a question of choice. we had another fine day on april , . ° in the shade at one o'clock. we were to make a closer acquaintance with the my-chu, a river we had hitherto known only from hearsay, but we had more knowledge of its eastern tributaries which we had crossed on our journey south. as usual we change our baggage horses in almost every village at which we encamp, and robert pays the hire to the villagers, that the escort may not have an opportunity of putting it into their own purses, at any rate not in our presence. generally the caravan marches a little in advance, while two villagers come with me and give me information about the country. [illustration: . lama in tong.] [illustration: . old tibetan. sketches by the author.] immediately beyond lingö we turn into the my-chu valley, riding northwards, and now leave behind the westerly valley of the raga-tsangpo. right at the turn we come to a colossal cone of round blocks of granite, among which the path winds up and down in zigzags, sometimes transformed to a staircase, which laden animals cannot possibly pass. we therefore take with us some peasants from the village to help in carrying the baggage. we have the river on our left, deep and sluggish. the fallen boulders of grey granite contrast strongly with the dark-green water in which whole shoals of black-backed fishes swim and rise. on a surface of granite is a buddhist rock-drawing half obliterated by time. then follows one _mani_ after another. a smith is housed in a cave with a vaulted roof blackened with soot, and sheltered by a small screen of stones, and offers his services to travellers. high up on a rocky terrace stands gunda-tammo, a small nunnery, and below a chain bridge between two stunted pyramids spans the river. it is only for foot passengers. the river bed is deeply excavated between its bank terraces, and two strips of clear green ice yet remain. the bed is as regular as a canal. on a rocky wall at the entrance of a side valley a face feet in diameter is painted in black, with eyes, nose, and mouth in red. the farther we go up the more frequently we are reminded that we are on a hallowed road leading from one temple to another, a sacred way of the monks, a pilgrim route on which "om mani padme hum" is murmured more repeatedly than on ordinary roads. sometimes boulders and cliffs are painted red, sometimes cairns are heaped beside the way, now we see chimney-like monuments with bundles of rods decked with streamers, then again long _mani_ mounds, one of them nearly feet long. two blocks lying on the road are covered all over with raised characters--a formidable piece of work. we are also in a great commercial artery, more frequented than the bank of the tsangpo. we constantly meet caravans of yaks and mules, mounted men and foot-passengers, monks, peasants, and beggars. they salute me politely, scratching their heads with their right hands, while they hold their caps in their left, and putting their tongues far out of their mouths, and they call out to me: "a good journey, bombo!" clear rivulets trickle across the road, the valley contracts and its contours become bolder and more pronounced; the granite ceases and is replaced by fine-grained crystalline schist. in the district of tong, where several villages stand high above the river, we encamp below the monastery lun-ganden-gompa (illustration ), in which monks of the gelugpa sect live, and, as usual, a prior of kanpo rank dwells in the labrang. we paid them a visit, but preferred the lovely view over the valley to the images of the gods in the darkness. the brethren are maintained partly by the tashi lama, and obtain the rest of their food from the produce of their fields, for the convent has large glebe lands. a blind man, who was not of the fraternity, sat like a machine at the prayer mill, turning it for the monks, and complained of his hard lot. the gova, the district chief, of tong rules over several villages in the neighbourhood, and lives like a prince in his solid house. on april we continued along the course of the my-chu, past villages and convents hitherto unknown. the villages stand just below the mouths of side valleys where the water can be most effectively applied to irrigation. a caravan of about yaks, driven by men and women and some carrying riders, had been at tok-jalung and had sold there _tsamba_ from tong; they had spent three months on their return from those gold-diggings in western tibet. they follow a route through the mountains where there is suitable pasture for yaks. thus the produce of the soil in the more favoured parts of the country reaches the nomads, who give in exchange for it wool, hides, and salt. after a short march we bivouacked in ghe, which has nineteen houses. an _angdi_ (musician) scraped and plucked a two-stringed instrument (illustration ), while his wife danced before us. [illustration: . strolling musicians.] here our escort from shigatse turned back, after handing our passport to four other men, the chief of whom was the gova of tong. they had done us excellent service, so i gave them good testimonials and presents. they were satisfied and would pray for my prosperity till their lives' end. i felt particular sympathy for one of the tibetans who had lost his two sons in the battle at guru; the one was twenty-three years old, and the other twenty-five, and the father could not understand why they had fallen, for they had done nothing wrong. next day the escort, jingling like a sledge party, accompanies us up the my-chu, which retains the same character. granite and schists alternate. the river tosses about, though it has occasionally quiet reaches. in the background of the side valleys are often seen great mountains lightly covered with snow, and at their entrances villages with stone houses and fields where only barley and peas are grown, seldom wheat. the black tents we see occasionally belong to merchants who are on their way from or to western tibet. bridges cross the affluents, flat slabs of stone on a pair of beams between rather high slightly overhanging piers of stone. the religious stone heaps are still numerous; one has caused a sand-dune to be formed. wild ducks, wood pigeons, and partridges occur here, and the latter, sorely against their will, make acquaintance with tsering's kitchen. in the village sir-chung the population is large, for here several routes and side valleys converge. among the crowds of spectators was a young woman so extraordinarily pretty that i took two photographs of her. she was twenty years old and was named putön (illustration ). the day following we visited the adjacent monastery lehlung-gompa, where the twenty-six monks belong to some heterodox sect, for they recognize neither tsong kapa nor the tashi lama; the prior had shut himself up in his dwelling sunk in deep speculations. a lama and three inhabitants of the neighbouring village nesar had died the day before, so our tibetan escort warned us not to go up to the monastery lest we should catch the infection, and when we nevertheless went, they begged to be allowed to stay behind. this dreary dilapidated monastery stood proudly on its point of rock, pretty far up a side valley which descends from the left to the my-chu. from its flat roof we had a splendid view and could make out the topography of the my-chu valley. a novelty to us was a row of stuffed yaks, hard as wood and dry as bone, with their horns, hoofs, and hides, hung up on the ceiling of a verandah. none of the monks could remember when they had been hung up. they looked very old, and apparently were for the same purpose as the four ghostly kings and the painted wild animals, that is, to scare away evil spirits. below the monastery twenty-four _manis_ stand close together in a row like a parish boundary on a topographical map. all the way up these sacred structures are so numerous that they even outnumber those near leh. the country assumes a more alpine character, and the valley becomes wilder and more desolate; but some trees form a small thicket at lehlung-gompa. at length we ride over a pebble terrace, perhaps feet above the stream, which now pours over small falls and murmurs pleasantly among boulders. the caravan has pitched its tents in the narrow valley on the bank of the my-chu and not far from the side valley kathing. most of the luggage has been carried by tibetans, for no pack animals were to be had, and now some hundred black-headed fellows sit in groups by their fires among the large boulders. here we were at a height of , feet, and therefore had only mounted up feet from shigatse ( , feet). but the air was cooler; the night before we had noted degrees of frost. [illustration: . the handsome woman, putÖn.] chapter xxxiv to linga-gompa the day's march on april takes us along the valley of the my-chu like a hollow way excavated in the solid rock of fine-grained granite, porphyry and crystalline schist, and the landscape is one of the grandest i have ever seen. we follow the western bank, from which rise wild precipitous rocks like the ruins of old walls and embattled forts. a footpath runs along the left bank also, and looks extremely dangerous, passing up above abrupt walls of rock. here and there valleys open out on the west side, affording views of part of a snow-covered crest in the background. this is, however, a subsidiary range, for it branches off from the trans-himalaya southwards and borders the basin of the my-chu on the west. it in turn sends out ramifications eastwards, between which flow the western tributaries of the my-chu. and these again give out branches of the fourth and fifth order; the whole appears in a plan like a tree with its branches and boughs. the road runs on steep pebble terraces high above the river, which here rages among the boulders in its deeply eroded bed and forms whirlpools. on our left rocky precipices tower above our heads, and avalanches of detritus have slipped down from them and fallen across the road. many are quite fresh; in other places there has been time to set up the blocks in protecting walls on the inner side and in a breastwork at the outer. and often we pass places where a new landslip may take place at any moment, and where huge blocks are poised in the air and seem ready to roll down the declivity. flourishing hawthorns in large numbers grow on the stony banks, and high up above rock pigeons have built their nests. still higher eagles soar with outspread pinions along the mountain flanks. we are feet above the river, where here and there on the bank is room for small tilled fields; a juniper bush has in some places struck root in a fissure of the rock. the valley is like a trough, and i obtain fine views of constantly changing scenes. we might fancy we were passing through a gothic cathedral with a colonnade of huge shafts attached to the walls and spanned by a roof of grey and white canvas, the clouds to wit, between which small patches of light blue cloth appear. the guide, accompanying us on this day, is a half silly old fellow, who laughs and chatters continuously, and frequently begins to dance on the road, flinging his legs about, stamping on the ground and turning round so quickly that his long pigtail flies round him. he tells us in confidence that his wife is a wicked hideous old dragon, whom he has long wished to carry off to the home of the vultures, for there will be no peace in his house till he has done so. when i halt to sketch, he takes his breakfast out of his coat, lays it out on the sand, fetches water from the river in a small bag, shakes _tsamba_ from another into a wooden dish, pours water over it, stirs it with his forefinger and then swallows bowl after bowl of this delicious mixture. he hopes to receive so much pay, that for once he can afford himself a plentiful meal while his old woman cannot see him eat. as often as one looks at him, out shoots his tongue and hangs like a fiery red flag in the middle of his black face. when he has finished he licks his plate clean and rubs it with sand to dry it. then he wraps his things up in a bundle and hides it under the stones. when robert tells him that people are about who have seen him hiding it, he quickly takes his bundle out again, thinks over the matter for a while, rummages about and at last finds another hiding-place. then he sits down beside me, puts out his tongue as far as it will go, winks at me with his little pig's eyes and takes a large pinch of snuff. when he walks in front of my horse, he turns round every hundred paces and puts his tongue out at me--a token of pure goodwill and deep respect. beyond the nunnery döle-gompa the valley of the my-chu unites with the large side valley lenjo running in from the west, in which, farther up, three villages are situated. from this valley the my-chu receives a very considerable tributary, which is crossed by a solid bridge of three arches resting on four stone piers; thick belts of ice still lie along the banks. here we find two fine _manis_ with turrets at both ends, where six-pointed stars are cut into the flat stones. these perpetual _manis_ often stand in long rows so near together that they look like a long luggage train, and one expects to see them move and start off for the abodes of the blessed. everything here denotes a great highway, a mighty commercial artery connecting the sedentary people of the lower-lying lands with the nomads of the plateaus. the road itself is the largest and best kept that i have seen in all tibet. bridges span all the affluents which might interrupt the traffic in summer and autumn, and wherever a landslip has occurred, the road is repaired at once. sacred cairns, walls, and streamers indicate to the traveller at every step that a monastery is near, where the monks expect a visit and a present of money. we are always meeting caravans, riders, peasants, and beggars who extort money from merchants returning home after a good stroke of business. many of these beggars turn into robbers and pillage undefended huts, but when they meet us they begin to hobble, gasp, and whine. after the harvest the traffic will be still more active than now. the valley now contracts to a corridor, and the broad shallow stream occupies all its bottom. on the right side, which we follow, the cliffs of schist fall perpendicularly to the river, and the dangerous, narrow road runs like a sill along the wall of rock. here nature has opposed endless insurmountable obstacles to the engineering skill of the tibetans. the baggage has to be carried past these dangerous places, and it is astonishing that the horses can get past. flat slabs of schist, branches, and roots have been inserted into cracks and fissures of the precipice feet above the river, and on these planks, poles, and stones are laid forming a gutter a foot broad, without a scrap of railing, where one must even keep one's tongue in one's mouth lest one should lose one's balance. of course we traverse this stretch of road, called tigu-tang, on foot, leaning inwards and supporting ourselves by the rock. we breathe freely again when we are safely over, and the great basin lies before us where, at linga, two important valleys converge. here is the confluence of the my-chu with a river flowing from the east, the sha-chu, which farther up is called bup-chu, and which we crossed two and a half months before on its thick coating of ice. on april the bup-chu brought down cubic feet of water and the my-chu , so the rivers were nearly equal, but the ratio may of course vary considerably according to the distribution of the precipitation. in a short valley in the western mountains the monastery linga-gompa is placed on the uppermost ledge of a steep flight of terraces, and is as fantastic, fascinating, and attractive as a fairy castle. its white houses are perched like storks' nests on mountain pinnacles; a row of _manis_ points out the way up to where the pious, blameless saints dwell in deep silence, far above the riot and tumult of the villages and the roaring and tossing of the stream. below the monastery stands the village linga-kok, where our camp is pitched not far from a bridge of ten arches on eleven piers which crosses the my-chu. a crowd of tibetans, black as moors, dirty, ragged, capless and trouserless, watch our arrival in silent amazement (illustration ). [illustration: . on the my-chu near linga.] [illustration: . village and monastery of linga.] not a single tree is seen in the neighbourhood; only up at the monastery there are two. this consolation, then, is no more, and only in our memory do we hear the thick foliage of tree-tops rustling in the wind. again we may expect the moaning of the storm on the passes of bare alpine ranges. moreover, the spring has not set in in earnest, for in the night there were still degrees of frost. i spent all sunday till twilight in the monastery, with rabsang and tundup sonam. we mounted the acclivity past rows of well-kept _manis_, which had the appearance of broken-down walls, with red-painted inscriptions chiselled out of the blocks of schist and framed in red. then we passed through a gate in the convent wall, and mounted higher and higher between forty old and more recent white houses clinging to the rock. the situation is like that of the hemis monastery in ladak, but there the houses are not so scattered. several of them are unoccupied, for the custom prevails here that, when a lama dies, his relations claim possession of his house, lock the door and take away the key. his movable property reverts to the convent. if a newly-come lama takes a fancy to an empty house, he can buy it from the heirs of the former owner; a good house is worth rupees (illustration ). linga has thirty monks, some of whom accompanied us on our rounds and were always pleasant and friendly, and never bold like the monks in kum-bum, which i visited in the year . the monastery is subordinate to sekiya, and the sekiya-lama is its highest spiritual superior and contributes towards its maintenance. linga-gompa also possesses lands, which, however, have not yielded much of late, for the crops have failed several years in succession. the monks are not dependent on the tashi lama, and have not a single statue of tsong kapa, whence it may be concluded that their sect is older than the reformed church. but it was, as usual, impossible to get any information about the age of the monastery. it seems to be in the interest of the monks to date back its origin to the remotest antiquity, of which no human records are extant. i was told, however, that the abbot, yimba tashi, knew its age, which was recorded in an old chronicle of the monastery. unfortunately, he was not at home, having gone northwards to a district called kumna, there to track out a band of robbers who had plundered him the year before and carried off all his caravan animals. down below the convent is a gorge with a black slope of schist on its side, on which the six holy characters are exhibited in fragments of white quartz, and call out to heaven the eternal truth, "om mani padme hum," in all kinds of wind and weather. a staircase of flags of schist leads up to the dopcha, an open platform paved with flagstones where the religious spectacles take place on feast days. the usual flagmast stands in the centre, but there is no breastwork of any kind, so that one dares not go there after dark, for bottomless abysses yawn round the open sides. here the monks had laid carpets and cushions and invited me to tea. i enjoyed for a while the fine view over the valley, the confluence of the two streams, the scattered villages, and the fields like chessboards. far to the east, behind the bup-chu valley, the lofty mountains are seen over which we travelled on the way from the ngangtse-tso. on the south side of the square is the entrance to the chief temple (_dukang_), which in all monasteries is in a red-painted stone building. we enter, look round, and are carried away by the singular mysteriousness, though we have often seen it before with trifling variations. i sink on a divan and fancy myself in a museum crammed full of modern trophies and flags of victory, where impenetrable darkness lurks among the pillars, and rows of drums, gongs, prayer cylinders, and trombones are set up. the hall is darker than usual, but bright light falls through a skylight on to the images of the gods. they seem to be soaring from their pedestals in the darkness into the glorious light of the upper regions. the monks glide inaudibly like ghosts and shadows among them, busied with the votive bowls. a wonderfully weird scene! we have wandered into a cavern where gnomes and hobgoblins creep about. this grotto resounds the whole time with the chant of the monks on the divans, which rises and falls in rhythmical waves, like the roar of the billows and the lapping of ripples on a strand. they sing in unison, keeping faultless time and without exerting themselves, though with astonishing rapidity. among them are greyheaded men with cracked voices, men in the prime of life, and youths and boys with fresh young voices. the sound is like horses trotting quickly over an endless wooden bridge; all the monks clap their hands and then the horses seem to trot over a paved street, but the next moment they are on the bridge again and the consonants roll like peas out the monks' lips. now and then a bass voice rises above the din calling out "_laso, laso_" (an exclamation of thanksgiving). during a short pause there is tea. then the chant goes on again. there is no excitement, no hurrying of the tempo, all goes on in the same even quick trot. the monks have no books before them; they know their liturgy by heart. but the charm of the rhythm seems to render them oblivious of time and space; they do not suffer themselves to be disturbed, but trot on over the bridge that leads to the home of the gods and to nirvana. as we go out again we hear the chant die away like the humming in a bee-hive. we visited some other halls, where i noted down the names of the images. at length there remained only two convent buildings on a sharp ridge of rock. the first was named chörigungkang, and had a sort of shed in which swords, guns, drums, masks, tiger-skins, and other lumber were stored. in the very front, on the point of the rock, is a cubical house called pesu. it is surrounded on three sides by a gallery without balustrades, and here the abyss is deeper than elsewhere. here i stayed to sketch the panorama, but the weather was anything but pleasant, and snowstorms veiled the mountains from time to time. nevertheless it was hard to leave this terrace. the flat roofs down below look no larger than postage-stamps. bright as silver, or dark, according as they are lighted, the two rivers hasten to meet each other. then i could not help thinking how singular it was that the loftiest and grandest alpine country in the world, which must surely impress the human mind more than any other, had not been able to instil into the tibetans a higher, nobler form of religion than this narrow, limited, dogmatic lamaism. i grant that it was imported from india more than a thousand years ago and was first modified into the so-called northern buddhism, but after all it flourishes vigorously in tibet. one would think that the ancient bon religion with its copious demonology, its widespread superstition, and its spirits haunting all the mountains and lakes, would be more suitable here. but we have indeed, discovered that lamaism has absorbed many of its elements. at any rate the linga monks have a splendid view of an artistically sculptured corner of the world. from their loopholes of windows and their flat roofs they can see winter spreading its white carpet over the mountains and putting the rivers in fetters, and then the spring shedding its gold over the valleys, the summer conjuring out new fresh grass, and lastly the rain torrents of early autumn washing the slopes and swelling the rivers. we now ascended, as if the mountain itself were not high enough, two steep pitch-dark flights of steps, where it is easy to break one's neck, into the entrance hall of the pesu temple. in a smaller room the flame of a butter-lamp struggled vainly with the darkness, casting its dull light on some idols. pesu is the hall of the gods _par excellence_, with innumerable statuettes of metal, very old, artistically worked and certainly very valuable. some figures were of medium size. i stood in front of the altar rank and inspected the gods. _tankas_ and long narrow scarves in many colours hung from the ceiling. on the right was the small, dark room, and on the left was a shutter creaking as it banged to and open in the wind. before the gods stood a row of bowls with barley, wheat, maize cobs, and water. i asked a monk who had come up with me how long it took the gods to eat it all. he smiled, and answered evasively that the bowls must always be full; but on entering i had caught sight of some mice which quickly scuttled away in the darkness. what cruel irony, what a picture of self-satisfied vanity and religious humbug! the serving brother has been in the pesu, has filled the bowls and said his daily prayers, has descended the steps and locked the door behind him. when all is quiet the mice come out of their holes. they climb upon the altar table, stand on their hind-legs, curl their tails round the votive bowls, and consume the nectar and ambrosia of the gods. could i not buy some of these charming figures? no, it could not be. the monk showed me a label which is attached with wire to each image. every object belonging to the furniture of the convent has its number, and this number is entered in the general inventory. the prior is usually elected for a fixed term of years, and when he resigns his office he hands the list to his successor to be checked. if any object is missing, he is responsible and must pay the value. a monk came up to bring tea for rabsang and tundup, who had seated themselves in the outer hall. i remained alone and gazed at the gods, mesmerized by their smiling gilded faces, their portly double chins, and their arched eyebrows. then something wonderful happened. their features changed and all turned their heads and looked at me. a curious feeling of awe took possession of me; had i insulted them through some want of delicacy? no, next moment they turned their heads away again and stared straight at the opposite wall. it was only a banner which in the draught from the window had moved so as to alter the shadow on the faces and give them an appearance of motion. linga is a ghostly castle, but pesu was the most ghostly part of it all. there large drums and grinning masks shimmered like ghosts in the gloom, and the wind whistled mournfully through all the loopholes and openings. a man of strong nerves would get the horrors if he were compelled to spend a stormy autumn night alone in this hall of the gods, with the light of the moon falling through the loopholes on the images. he would listen with bated breath for every sound and crack. if the door below banged against its frame, he would hear some one entering the ante-chamber, and when the streamers on the roof fluttered in the wind, he would imagine the unknown person was approaching the hall with light steps and would in a second be bending over him; and the mice running over the floor, and the shutters swinging in the wind on creaking hinges, and the wind moaning in the window recesses and among the rafters, all would strain his imagination to the utmost and make him count the minutes till the dawn. after the gods had turned their heads towards me i felt that i should not like to be in such a position, but would rather go down again to my tent in the valley and sleep. end of vol. i [illustration: . the latest map of tibet. from the _geographical journal_, . note the blank space north of the upper brahmaputra with the word "unexplored."] [illustration: . carte gÉnÉrale du thibet ou bout-tan. (avril .) d'anville, _nouvel atlas de la chine, etc._ paris .] [illustration: . map of southern tibet. from _selections from the records of the government of bengal_. no. xxvii. papers relative to the colonization, commerce, physical geography, etc. etc. of the himalaya mountains and nepal. by brian houghton hodgson, esq., m.r.a.s. calcutta, john gray, _calcutta gazette_ office, . hodgson's "the nyenchhen thangla chain, separating southern from northern tibet" is only hypothetical, and does not represent the actual configuration.] [illustration: . the source-region of the brahmaputra. after major ryder, . the chema-yundung is drawn as the main river, while the kubi-tsangpo is shown as an affluent. in reality the kubi-tsangpo is the source-stream, and the chema-yundung, which receives the marium-chu, only a tributary.] [illustration: . sketch-map of webber's route in . _the forests of upper india._ by thomas w. webber. london, edward arnold, .] [illustration: . saunders' map of south tibet. from _narratives of the mission of george bogle to tibet and of the journey of thomas manning to lhasa_. by clements markham. london, trübner and co., . hypothetical form of the trans-himalaya ("gangri mountains") from ° to ½° e. long. quite incorrect.] [illustration: . the source-region of the brahmaputra. after nain sing, . his route is shown by a dotted line.] sir francis younghusband's kashmir with plates by major e. molyneux _cloth, vo, $ . net_ kashmir is renowned throughout the world for the beauty of its natural scenery and the salubrity of its climate. it is a switzerland in asia, but on a grander scale, with loftier mountains and more wide-flung landscapes. the present book describes with pen and brush the variety of natural beauty in the different seasons of the year. it also gives some account of the chief places of interest, of the people, and of their government. the seventy full-page color illustrations are all of remarkable excellence. a. v. w. jackson's persia, past and present _illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ "professor jackson's account admirably fulfils the promise of the title of the volume. saturated with the history and literature of the ancient kingdom, before making his personal acquaintance with the country under its modern aspects, the author was able to assimilate his often hazy impressions with a thoroughness impossible to the ordinary traveller."--_new york tribune._ frederick moore's the balkan trail _illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ "mr. moore writes his story so that the reader almost sees what the author saw. he describes the outrages by the turks, the murders by the brigands, and little humorous incidents with equal facility, and he finds an abundant variety of topics during his expedition."--_boston transcript._ henry savage landor's tibet and nepal _colored illustrations, vo, $ . net_ "the book is decidedly agreeable and even exciting reading, and presents in many ways an intimate picture of the life of the tibetans and their innumerable curious customs. the colored pictures are striking and effective."--_the outlook._ * * * * * published by the macmillan company - fifth avenue, new york jacob riis's the old town _illustrated, cloth, mo, $ . net_ in this delightful book mr. riis writes of his boyhood home, the queer old city of ribe. the historical interests and landmarks of ribe are many, and here they are set before us with that same sympathy, expression, and care for detail which enabled mr. riis to picture in so graphic a manner the life of the new york city slum dwellers. vivid portrayals of life in the old days, of the sports and pranks of children, of the curious and quaint customs of their elders, abound in every chapter and proclaim the "message of the old town." mr. benda in his pictures has been strikingly successful in supplementing mr. riis's work. e. v. lucas's a wanderer in paris _colored illustrations, cloth, mo, $ . net_ "mr. lucas seems never to have forgotten anything that he has once read, and he has all his resources on tap at the right moment; 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he has explored the gold and silver mines and visited some of the quaint health resorts; he has gone mountain climbing and tarpon fishing--and he tells of these many experiences in a most engaging manner. many pictures of curious and out-of-the-way places add greatly to its beauty and to the value of the book for travellers and general readers. dr. wilfred t. grenfell's labrador: the country and the people _illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ in this volume dr. grenfell supplies the only full and adequate account of labrador--the country, its natural resources, the climatic conditions, and its people. in addition to the main body of the book, with its chapters on physiography, the people of the coast, the missions, the dogs, the various fisheries, there are short chapters on the flora, the fauna, the geology, etc., each by a scientific author of standing. the volume, profusely illustrated from photographs in the author's own collection, reveals an unknown land to the vast majority of readers. ella higginson's alaska: the great country _illustrated, cloth, mo, $ . net_ "no other book gives so clear an impression of the beauty and grandeur and vastness of our northernmost territory, nor so inspires one to explore its vastnesses. she has mingled enough of history and statistics to make it authoritative, and has embellished the tale with stories and anecdotes to prevent its being dull, and has succeeded in writing what might well be called a great book on a great subject."--_the boston evening transcript._ james outram's in the heart of the canadian rockies _illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ "it is so inspired with the glories of the mountains, their sublime solitudes and silences, and their fascinating perils that it might well be called the epic of american mountaineering."--_world to-day._ * * * * * published by the macmillan company - fifth avenue, new york clifton johnson's books among english hedgerows with an introduction by hamilton w. mabie, and over illustrations _cloth, vo, $ . net_ "this book deserves to succeed, not only in america but in the country which it so lovingly depicts."--_the spectator_, london. along french byways _fully illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ "gives a singularly faithful and complete and well-balanced idea of the french peasantry and french rural life, manners, and customs."--_boston herald._ the isle of the shamrock _fully illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ "a most interesting book, full of lively sketches and anecdotes."--_london daily news._ the land of heather _fully illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ "not only scotchmen, but every student of human nature will be pleased with this entertaining book. it describes typical people and scenes with much sympathy and appreciation."--_brooklyn standard union._ american highways and byways series highways and byways of the mississippi valley _illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ highways and byways of the south _illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ highways and byways of the pacific coast _illustrated, cloth, mo, $ . net_ new england and its neighbors _illustrated, cloth, vo, $ . net_ the picturesque hudson _illustrated, cloth, mo, $ . net_ * * * * * published by the macmillan company - fifth avenue, new york transcriber's note: variations in spelling and hyphenation have been retained as in the original. some typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected. a complete list follows the text. words italicized in the original are surrounded by _underscores_. the 'oe' ligature is represented as oe. the unveiling of lhasa by edmund candler author of 'a vagabond in asia' _with illustrations and map_ london edward arnold publisher to h.m. india office & maddox street, bond street, w. [_all rights reserved_] these pages, written mostly in the dry cold wind of tibet, often when ink was frozen and one's hand too numbed to feel a pen, are dedicated to colonel hogge, c.b., and the officers of the rd sikh pioneers, whose genial society is one of the most pleasant memories of a rigorous campaign. preface the recent expedition to lhasa was full of interest, not only on account of the political issues involved and the physical difficulties overcome, but owing to the many dramatic incidents which attended the mission's progress. it was my good fortune to witness nearly all these stirring events, and i have written the following narrative of what i saw in the hope that a continuous story of the affair may interest readers who have hitherto been able to form an idea of it only from the telegrams in the daily press. the greater part of the book was written on the spot, while the impressions of events and scenery were still fresh. owing to wounds i was not present at the bombardment and relief of gyantse, but this phase of the operations is dealt with by mr. henry newman, _reuter's_ correspondent, who was an eye-witness. i am especially indebted to him for his account, which was written in lhasa, and occupied many mornings that might have been devoted to well-earned rest. my thanks are also due to the proprietors of the _daily mail_ for permission to use material of which they hold the copyright; and i am indebted to the editors of the _graphic_ and _black and white_ for allowing me to reproduce certain photographs by lieutenant bailey. the illustrations are from sketches by lieutenant rybot, and photographs by lieutenants bailey, bethell, and lewis, to whom i owe my cordial thanks. edmund candler. london, _january, ._ contents chapter i the causes of the expedition pages a retrospect--early visitors to lhasa--the jesuits--the capuchins--van der putte--thomas manning--the lazarist fathers--policy of exclusion due to chinese influence--the nepalese invasion--bogle and turner--the macaulay mission--tibetans invade indian territory--the expedition of --the convention with china--british blundering--our treatment of the shata shapé--the yatung trade mart--tibetans repudiate the convention--fiction of the chinese suzerainty--a policy of drift--tibetan mission to the czar--dorjieff and his intrigues--the dalai lama and russian designs--our great countermove--boycotted at khamba jong--the advance sanctioned--winter quarters at tuna - chapter ii over the frontier from the base to gnatong--a race to chumbi--a perilous night ride--forest scenery--gnatong three years ago and now--gnatong in action--a mountain lake--the jelap la and beyond--undefended barriers--yatung and its customs house--chumbi--the first press message from tibet--arctic clothing--scenes in camp--a very uncomfortable 'picnic' - chapter iii the chumbi valley the tomos--a hardy race--their habits and diversions--chinamen in exile--a prosperous valley--but a cheerless clime--kasi and his statistics--trade figures--tibetan cruelties--kasi as general provider--mountain scenery--the spirit of the himalayas--a glorious flora--the himalayas and the alps--the wall of gob-sorg--chinamen and tomos--a future hill-station--lingmathang--a cosy cave--the mounted infantry corps--two famous regiments--sport at lingmathang--the sikkim stag--gamebirds and wildfowl--gautsa camp - chapter iv phari jong gautsa to phari jong--a wonderful old fortress--tibetan dirt--a medical armoury--the lamas' library--roadmaking and sport--the tibetan gazelle and other animals--evening diversions--cold, grime, and misery--manning's journal--bogle's account of phari--history of the fortress--the town and its occupants--the mystery of tibet--the significance of the frescoes--departure from phari--the monastery of the red lamas--chumulari--the tibetan new year--bogle's narrative--the tang la and the road to lhasa - chapter v the road and transport a transport 'show'--difficulties of the way--vicissitudes of climate--frozen heights and sweltering valleys--disease amongst transport animals--a tale of disaster--the stricken yak corps--troubles of the transport officer--mules to the rescue--the coolie transport corps--carrying power of the transport items--the problem and its solution--the ekka and the yak--a providentially ascetic beast--splendid work of the transport service--courage and endurance of officers and men--the th mule corps benighted in a blizzard--rifle-bolts and maxims frost-jammed--difficulties of a russian advance on lhasa--the new ammo chu cart-road - chapter vi the action at the hot springs the deadlock at tuna--discomforts of the garrison--the lamas' curse--the attitude of bhutan--a diplomatic triumph--tedious delays--a welcome move forward--the tibetan camp at hot springs--the lhasa depon meets colonel younghusband--futile conferences--the tibetan position surrounded--coolness of the sikhs and gurkhas--the disarming--a sudden outbreak--a desperate struggle--the action of the lhasa general--the rabble disillusioned in their gods--a beaten and bewildered enemy--reflections after the event--tibetans in hospital--three months afterwards - chapter vii a human miscellany in a doolie to the base--tibetan bearers--a retrospect--a reverie and a reminiscence--snow-bound at phari--the bhutia as bearer--the lepchas and their humours--mongolian odours--the road at last--platitudes in epigram--lucknow doolie-wallahs--their hymn of the obvious--meetings on the road--a motley of races--through a tropical forest--the tista and civilization - chapter viii the advance of the mission opposed the tibetans responsible for hostilities--their version of the hot springs affair--treacherous attack at samando--wall-building--the red idol gorge action--a stiff climb--the enemy outflanked--impressed peasants--first phase of the opposition--bad generalship--lack of enterprise--erratic shooting--all quiet at gyantse--enemy occupy karo la--a booby trap--colonel brander's sortie--frontal attack repulsed--captain bethune killed--failure of flanking movement--a critical moment--sikhs turn the position--flight and pursuit--second phase of the opposition--advanced tactics--danger of being cut off--the attack on kangma--desperate gallantry of the enemy--patriots or fanatics? - chapter ix gyantse (by henry newman) a happy valley--devastated by war--why the jong was evacuated--the lull before the storm--tibetans massing--the attack on the mission--a hot ten minutes--pyjamaed warriors--wounded to the rescue--the gurkhas' rally--the camp bombarded--the labour of defence work--hadow's maxim--life during the siege--tibetans reinforced--they enfilade our position--the taking of the 'gurkha post'--terrible carnage - chapter x gyantse--_continued_ attack on the postal riders--brilliant exploit of the mounted infantry--communications threatened--clearing the villages--a narrow shave--arrival of reinforcements--the storming of palla--house-fighting--capture of the post--a fantastic display--night attacks--seven miles of front--advance of the relief column--the tibetans cornered--naini monastery taken--capture of tsaden--our losses--the armistice--tibetans refuse to surrender the jong--a bristling fortress--the attack at dawn--the breach--gallantry of lieutenant grant and his gurkhas--capture of the jong - chapter xi gossip on the road to the front a garden in the forest--a jeremiad on transport--the servant question--jung bir--british bhutan--kalimpong--'the bhutia tat'--father desgodins--an adventurous career--a lost opportunity--chinese duplicity--phuntshog--new arms and new friends for tibet--a mysterious lama--dorjieff again--the inscrutable tibetan - chapter xii to the great river failure of peace negociations--opposition expected--details of force--march to the karo la--villages deserted--the second karo la action--the gurkhas' climb--the tibetan rout--the kham prisoners--hopelessness of the tibetans' struggle--their troops disheartened--arrival at nagartse--tedious delegates--the victory of a personality--brush with tibetan cavalry--the last shot--the shapés despoiled--modern rifles--exaggerated reports of russian assistance--the yamdok tso--dorje phagmo--legends of the lake--the incubus of an army--why men travel--wildfowl--pehte--view from the khamba pass--from the desert to arcadia--the tibetan of the tablelands--the tuna plateau--homely scenes--a mood of indolence--the course of the tsangpo--the brahmaputra irawaddy controversy--the projected tsangpo trip--legendary geography--lost opportunities - chapter xiii lhasa and its vanished deity the passage of the river--major bretherton drowned--the kyi chu valley--tropical heat--atisa's tomb--foraging in holy places--first sight of the potala--hidden lhasa--symbols of remonstrance--prophecies of invasion--and decay of buddhism--medieval tibet--spiritual terrorism--lamas' fears of enlightenment--the last mystery unveiled--arrival at lhasa--view from the chagpo ri--entry into the city--apathy of the people--the potala--magnificence and squalor--the secret of romance--a vanished deity--'thou shalt not kill'--secret assassinations--a marvellous disappearance--the dalai lama joins dorjieff--his personality and character--the verdict of the nepalese resident--the voice without a soul--the wisdom of his flight--a romantic picture--the place of the dead - chapter xiv the city and its temples sullen monks--a lama runs amok--the environs of lhasa--the lingkhor--the ragyabas--the cathedral--service before the great buddhas--the lamas' chant--vessels of gold--'hell'--white mice--the many-handed buddha--silence and abstraction--the bazaar--hats--the mongolians--curio-hunting--the ramo-ché--sorcery--the adventures of a soul--lamaism and roman catholicism--the decay of buddhism--the three great monasteries--their political influence--depung--an ecclesiastical university--the 'impossible' tibetan--an ultimatum--consternation at depung--temporizing and evasion--an ugly mob--a political deadlock - chapter xv the settlement an irresponsible administration--an insolent reply--tibetan haggling--release of the lachung men--social relations with the tibetans--a guarded ultimatum--a diplomatic triumph--the signing of the treaty--colonel younghusband's speech--the terms--political prisoners liberated--deposition of the dalai lama--the tashe lama--prospect of an anglophile pope--the practical results of the expedition--russia discredited--why a resident should be left at lhasa--china hesitates to sign the treaty--the 'vicious circle' again--her acquiescence not of vital importance--the attitude of tibet to great britain--fear and respect the only guarantee of future good conduct - list of illustrations a cold day in tibet _frontispiece_ headquarters of the mission at lhasa _to face p._ chorten " panorama of a convent " tuna village " chinese general ma " on the road to gautsa " rock sculptures praying-flags and mani wall _to face p._ officers' tents, mounted infantry camp, lingmathang " subadar sangat singh, st mounted infantry " wounded kyang " goa, or tibetan gazelle " the tang la " phari jong " mounted infantry ponies, tuna camp " yak in ekka " the depon's last conference with colonel younghusband _to face p._ tibetans retreating from sangars " turning tibetans out of the sangars on the hillside " diagrammatic view of hot springs action " the tibetan dead " field-hospital doolie with tibetan bearers " tibetan soldiers " wounded tibetan " wounded tibetan in british hospital " pioneers destroying kangma wall " gyantse jong " golden-roofed temple, gyantse " buddhas in palkhor choide " tsachen monastery " group of shapÉs parleying " sketch of the karo la kham prisoners _to face p._ gurkhas climbing at the karo la " pehtÉ jong " gubchi jong " old chain-bridge at chaksam " crossing the tsangpo " the potala " entry into lhasa " corner of courtyard of astrologer's temple, nechang _to face p._ the potala, west front " mounted infantry guard at the potala " metal bowls outside the jokhang " street scene in lhasa " the tsarung shapÉ " mongolians in lhasa " the ta lama " soldier of the amban's escort " colonel younghusband and the amban at the races " the tsarung shapÉ and the sechung shapÉ leaving lhalu house after the durbar _to face p._ tibetan drama played in the courtyard of lhalu house " the unveiling of lhasa chapter i the causes of the expedition the conduct of great britain in her relations with tibet puts me in mind of the dilemma of a big boy at school who submits to the attacks of a precocious youngster rather than incur the imputation of 'bully.' at last the situation becomes intolerable, and the big boy, bully if you will, turns on the youth and administers the deserved thrashing. there is naturally a good deal of remonstrance from spectators who have not observed the byplay which led to the encounter. but sympathy must be sacrificed to the restitution of fitting and respectful relations. the aim of this record of an individual's impressions of the recent tibetan expedition is to convey some idea of the life we led in tibet, the scenes through which we passed, and the strange people we fought and conquered. we killed several thousand of these brave, ill-armed men; and as the story of the fighting is not always pleasant reading, i think it right before describing the punitive side of the expedition to make it quite clear that military operations were unavoidable--that we were drawn into the vortex of war against our will by the folly and obstinacy of the tibetans. the briefest review of the rebuffs great britain has submitted to during the last twenty years will suffice to show that, so far from being to blame in adopting punitive measures, she is open to the charge of unpardonable weakness in allowing affairs to reach the crisis which made such punishment necessary. it must be remembered that tibet has not always been closed to strangers. the history of european travellers in lhasa forms a literature to itself. until the end of the eighteenth century only physical obstacles stood in the way of an entry to the capital. jesuits and capuchins reached lhasa, made long stays there, and were even encouraged by the tibetan government. the first[ ] europeans to visit the city and leave an authentic record of their journey were the fathers grueber and d'orville, who penetrated tibet from china in by the sining route, and stayed in lhasa two months. in the jesuits desideri and freyre reached lhasa; desideri stayed there thirteen years. in arrived horace de la penna and the capuchin mission, who built a chapel and a hospice, made several converts, and were not finally expelled till .[ ] the dutchman van der putte, first layman to penetrate to the capital, arrived in , and stayed there some years. after this we have no record of a european reaching lhasa until the adventurous journey in of thomas manning, the first and only englishman to reach the city before this year. manning arrived in the retinue of a chinese general whom he had met at phari jong, and whose gratitude he had won for medical services. he remained in the capital four months, and during his stay he made the acquaintance of several chinese and tibetan officials, and was even presented to the dalai lama himself. the influence of his patron, however, was not strong enough to insure his safety in the city. he was warned that his life was endangered, and returned to india by the same way he came. in the lazarist missionaries huc and gabet reached lhasa in the disguise of lamas after eighteen months' wanderings through china and mongolia, during which they must have suffered as much from privations and hardships as any travellers who have survived to tell the tale. they were received kindly by the amban and regent, but permission to stay was firmly refused them on the grounds that they were there to subvert the religion of the state. despite the attempts of several determined travellers, none of whom got within a hundred miles of lhasa, the lazarist fathers were the last europeans to set foot in the city until colonel younghusband rode through the pargo kaling gate on august , . [ ] friar oderic of portenone is supposed to have visited lhasa in , but the authenticity of this record is open to doubt. [ ] when in lhasa i sought in vain for any trace of these buildings. the most enlightened tibetans are ignorant, or pretend to be so, that christian missionaries have resided in the city. in the cathedral, however, we found a bell with the inscription, 'te deum laudamus,' which is probably a relic of the capuchins. the records of these travellers to lhasa, and of others who visited different parts of tibet before the end of the eighteenth century, do not point to any serious political obstacles to the admission of strangers. two centuries ago, europeans might travel in remote parts of asia with greater safety than is possible to-day. suspicions have naturally increased with our encroachments, and the white man now inspires fear where he used only to awake interest.[ ] [ ] suspicion and jealousy of foreigners seems to have been the guiding principle both of tibetans and chinese even in the earlier history of the country. the attitude is well illustrated by a letter written in by the regent at lhasa to the teshu lama with reference to bogle's mission: 'he had heard of two fringies being arrived in the deb raja's dominions, with a great retinue of servants; that the fringies were fond of war, and after insinuating themselves into a country raised disturbances and made themselves masters of it; that as no fringies had ever been admitted into tibet, he advised the lama to find some method of sending them back, either on account of the violence of the small-pox or on any other pretence.' the policy of strict exclusion in tibet seems to have been synchronous with chinese ascendancy. at the end of the eighteenth century the nepalese invaded and overran the country. the lamas turned to china for help, and a force of , men was sent to their assistance. the chinese drove the gurkhas over their frontier, and practically annihilated their army within a day's march of khatmandu. from this date china has virtually or nominally ruled in lhasa, and an important result of her intervention has been to sow distrust of the british. she represented that we had instigated the nepalese invasion, and warned the lamas that the only way to obviate our designs on tibet was to avoid all communication with india, and keep the passes strictly closed to foreigners. shortly before the nepalese war, warren hastings had sent the two missions of bogle and turner to shigatze. bogle was cordially received by the grand teshu lama, and an intimate friendship was established between the two men. on his return to india he reported that the only bar to a complete understanding with tibet was the obstinacy of the regent and the chinese agents at lhasa, who were inspired by peking. an attempt was arranged to influence the chinese government in the matter, but both bogle and the teshu lama died before it could be carried out. ten years later turner was despatched to tibet, and received the same welcome as his predecessor. everything pointed to the continuance of a steady and consistent policy by which the barrier of obstruction might have been broken down. but warren hastings was recalled in , and lord cornwallis, the next governor-general, took no steps to approach and conciliate the tibetans. it was in that the tibetan-nepalese war broke out, which, owing to the misrepresentations of china, precluded any possibility of an understanding between india and tibet. such was the uncompromising spirit of the lamas that, until lord dufferin sanctioned the commercial mission of mr. colman macaulay in , no succeeding viceroy after warren hastings thought it worth while to renew the attempt to enter into friendly relations with the country. the macaulay mission incident was the beginning of that weak and abortive policy which lost us the respect of the tibetans, and led to the succession of affronts and indignities which made the recent expedition to lhasa inevitable. the escort had already advanced into sikkim, and mr. macaulay was about to join it, when orders were received from government for its return. the withdrawal was a concession to the chinese, with whom we were then engaged in the delimitation of the burmese frontier. this display of weakness incited the tibetans to such a pitch of vanity and insolence that they invaded our territory and established a military post at lingtu, only seventy miles from darjeeling. we allowed the invaders to remain in the protected state of sikkim two years before we made any reprisal. in , after several vain appeals to china to use her influence to withdraw the tibetan troops, we reluctantly decided on a military expedition. the tibetans were driven from their position, defeated in three separate engagements, and pursued over the frontier as far as chumbi. we ought to have concluded a treaty with them on the spot, when we were in a position to enforce it, but we were afraid of offending the susceptibilities of china, whose suzerainty over tibet we still recognised, though she had acknowledged her inability to restrain the tibetans from invading our territory. at the conclusion of the campaign, in which the tibetans showed no military instincts whatever, we returned to our post at gnatong, on the sikkim frontier. after two years of fruitless discussion, a convention was drawn up between great britain and china, by which great britain's exclusive control over the internal administration and foreign relations of sikkim was recognised, the sikkim-tibet boundary was defined, and both powers undertook to prevent acts of aggression from their respective sides of the frontier. the questions of pasturage, trade facilities, and the method in which official communications should be conducted between the government of india and the authorities at lhasa were deferred for future discussion. nearly three more years passed before the trade regulations were drawn up in darjeeling--in december, . the negociations were characterized by the same shuffling and equivocation on the part of the chinese, and the same weak-kneed policy of forbearance and conciliation on the part of the british. treaty and regulations were alike impotent, and our concessions went so far that we exacted nothing as the fruit of our victory over the tibetans--not even a fraction of the cost of the campaign. our ignorance of the tibetans, their government, and their relations with china was at this time so profound that we took our cue from the chinese, who always referred to the lhasa authorities as 'the barbarians.' the shata shapé, the most influential of the four members of council, attended the negociations on behalf of the tibetans. he was officially ignored, and no one thought of asking him to attach his signature to the treaty. the omission was a blunder of far-reaching consequences. had we realized that chinese authority was practically non-existent in lhasa, and that the temporal affairs of tibet were mainly directed by the four shapés and the tsong-du (the very existence of which, by the way, was unknown to us), we might have secured a diplomatic agent in the shata shapé who would have proved invaluable to us in our future relations with the country. unfortunately, during his stay in darjeeling the shapé's feelings were lacerated by ill-treatment as well as neglect. in an unfortunate encounter with british youth, which was said to have arisen from his jostling an english lady off the path, he was taken by the scruff of the neck and ducked in the public fountain. so he returned to tibet with no love for the english, and after certain courteous overtures from the agents of 'another power,' became a confirmed, though more or less accidental, russophile. though deposed,[ ] he has at the present moment a large following among the monks of the gaden monastery. [ ] the shata shapé and his three colleagues were deposed by the dalai lama in october, . in the regulations of it was stipulated that a trade mart should be established at yatung, a small hamlet six miles beyond our frontier. the place is obviously unsuitable, situated as it is in a narrow pine-clad ravine, where one can throw a stone from cliff to cliff across the valley. no traders have ever resorted there, and the tibetans have studiously boycotted the place. to show their contempt for the treaty, and their determination to ignore it, they built a wall a quarter of a mile beyond the customs house, through which no tibetan or british subject was allowed to pass, and, to nullify the object of the mart, a tax of per cent. on indian goods was levied at phari. every attempt was made by sheng tai, the late amban, to induce the tibetans to substitute phari for yatung as a trade mart. but, as an official report admits, 'it was found impossible to overcome their reluctance. yatung was eventually accepted both by the chinese and british governments as the only alternative to breaking off the negociations altogether.' this confession of weakness appears to me abject enough to quote as typical of our attitude throughout. in deference to tibetan wishes, we allowed nearly every clause of the treaty to be separately stultified. the tibetans, as might be expected, met our forbearance by further rebuffs. not content with evading their treaty obligations in respect to trade, they proceeded to overthrow our boundary pillars, violate grazing rights, and erect guard-houses at giagong, in sikkim territory. when called to question they repudiated the treaty, and said that it had never been shown them by the amban. it had not been sealed or confirmed by any tibetan representative, and they had no intention of observing it. once more the 'solemn farce' was enacted of an appeal to china to use her influence with the lhasa authorities. and it was only after repeated representations had been made by the indian government to the secretary of state that the home government realized the seriousness of the situation, and the hopelessness of making any progress through the agency of china. 'we seem,' said lord curzon, 'in respect to our policy in tibet, to be moving in a vicious circle. if we apply to tibet we either receive no reply or are referred to the chinese resident; if we apply to the latter, he excuses his failure by his inability to put any pressure upon tibet.' in the famous despatch of january , , the viceroy described the chinese suzerainty as 'a political fiction,' only maintained because of its convenience to both parties. china no doubt is capable of sending sufficient troops to lhasa to coerce the tibetans. but it has suited her book to maintain the present elusive and anomalous relations with tibet, which are a securer buttress to her western dependencies against encroachment than the strongest army corps. for many years we have been the butt of the tibetans, and china their stalking-horse. the tibetan attitude was clearly expressed by the shigatze officials at khamba jong in september last year, when they openly boasted that 'where chinese policy was in accordance with their own views they were ready enough to accept the amban's advice; but if this advice ran counter in any respect to their national prejudices, the chinese emperor himself would be powerless to influence them.' china has on several occasions confessed her inability to coerce the tibetans. she has proved herself unable to enforce the observance of treaties or even to restrain her subjects from invading our territory, and during the recent attempts at negociations she had to admit that her representative in lhasa was officially ignored, and not even allowed transport to travel in the country. in the face of these facts her exceedingly shadowy suzerainty may be said to have entirely evaporated, and it is unreasonable to expect us to continue our relations with tibet through the medium of peking. it was not until nine years after the signing of the convention that we made any attempt to open direct communications with the tibetans themselves. it is astonishing that we allowed ourselves to be hoodwinked so long. but this policy of drift and waiting is characteristic of our foreign relations all over the world. british cabinets seem to believe that cure is better than prevention, and when faced by a dilemma have seldom been known to act on the initiative, or take any decided course until the very existence of their dependency is imperilled. in lord curzon was permitted to send a despatch to the dalai lama in which it was pointed out that his government had consistently defied and ignored treaty rights; and in view of the continued occupation of british territory, the destruction of frontier pillars, and the restrictions imposed on indian trade, we should be compelled to resort to more practical measures to enforce the observance of the treaty, should he remain obstinate in his refusal to enter into friendly relations. the letter was returned unopened, with the verbal excuse that the chinese did not permit him to receive communications from any foreign power. yet so great was our reluctance to resort to military coercion that we might even at this point have let things drift, and submitted to the rebuffs of these impossible tibetans, had not the dalai lama chosen this moment for publicly flaunting his relations with russia. the second[ ] tibetan mission reached st. petersburg in june, , carrying autograph letters and presents to the czar from the dalai lama. count lamsdorff declared that the mission had no political significance whatever. we were asked to believe that these lamas travelled many thousand miles to convey a letter that expressed the hope that the russian foreign minister was in good health and prosperous, and informed him that the dalai lama was happy to be able to say that he himself enjoyed excellent health. [ ] a previous mission had been received by the czar at livadia in october, . it is possible that the mission to st. petersburg was of a purely religious character, and that there was no secret understanding at the time between the lhasa authorities and russia. yet the fact that the mission was despatched in direct contradiction to the national policy of isolation that had been respected for over a century, and at a time when the tibetans were aware of impending british activity to exact fulfilment of the treaty obligations so long ignored by them, points to some secret influence working in lhasa in favour of russia, and opposed to british interests. the process of russification that has been carried on with such marked success in persia and turkestan, merv and bokhara, was being applied in tibet. it has long been known to our intelligence department that certain buriat lamas, subjects of the czar, and educated in russia, have been acting as intermediaries between lhasa and st. petersburg. the chief of these, one dorjieff, headed the so-called religious mission of , and has been employed more than once as the dalai lama's ambassador to st. petersburg. dorjieff is a man of fifty-eight, who has spent some twenty years of his life in lhasa, and is known to be the right-hand adviser of the dalai lama. no doubt dorjieff played on the fears of the buddhist pope until he really believed that tibet was in danger of an invasion from india, in which eventuality the czar, the great pan-buddhist protector, would descend on the british and drive them back over the frontier. the lamas of tibet imagine that russia is a buddhist country, and this belief has been fostered by adventurers like dorjieff, tsibikoff, and others, who have inspired dreams of a consolidated buddhist church under the spiritual control of the dalai lama and the military ægis of the czar of all the russias. these dreams, full of political menace to ourselves, have, i think, been dispelled by lord curzon's timely expedition to lhasa. the presence of the british in the capital and the helplessness of russia to lend any aid in such a crisis are facts convincing enough to stultify the effects of russian intrigue in buddhist central asia during the last half-century. the fact that the first dalai lama who has been allowed to reach maturity has plunged his country into war by intrigue with a foreign power proves the astuteness of the cold-blooded policy of removing the infant pope, and the investiture of power in the hands of a regent inspired by peking. it is believed that the present dalai lama was permitted to come of age in order to throw off the chinese yoke. this aim has been secured, but it has involved other issues that the lamas could not foresee. and here it must be observed that the dalai lama's inclination towards russia does not represent any considerable national movement. the desire for a rapprochement was largely a matter of personal ambition inspired by that arch-intriguer dorjieff, whose ascendancy over the dalai lama was proved beyond a doubt when the latter joined him in his flight to mongolia on hearing the news of the british advance on lhasa. dorjieff had a certain amount of popularity with the priest population of the capital, and the monks of the three great monasteries, amongst whom he is known to have distributed largess royally. but the traditional policy of isolation is so inveterately ingrained in the tibetan character that it is doubtful if he could have organized a popular party of any strength. it may be asked, then, what is, or was, the nature of the russian menace in tibet? it is true that a russian invasion on the north-east frontier is out of the question. for to reach the indian passes the russians would have to traverse nearly , miles of almost uninhabited country, presenting difficulties as great as any we had to contend with during the recent campaign. but the establishment of russian influence in lhasa might mean military danger of another kind. it would be easy for her to stir up the tibetans, spread disaffection among the bhutanese, send secret agents into nepal, and generally undermine our prestige. her aim would be to create a diversion on the tibet frontier at any time she might have designs on the north-west. the pioneers of the movement had begun their work. they were men of the usual type--astute, insidious, to be disavowed in case of premature discovery, or publicly flaunted when they had prepared any ground on which to stand. our countermove--the tibet expedition--must have been a crushing and unexpected blow to russia. for the first time in modern history great britain had taken a decisive, almost high-handed, step to obviate a danger that was far from imminent. we had all the best cards in our hands. russia's designs in lhasa became obvious at a time when we could point to open defiance on the part of the tibetans, and provocation such as would have goaded any other european nation to a punitive expedition years before. we could go to lhasa, apparently without a thought of russia, and yet undo all the effects of her scheming there, and deal her prestige a blow that would be felt throughout the whole of central asia. such was lord curzon's policy. it was adopted in a half-hearted way by the home government, and eventually forced on them by the conduct of the tibetans themselves. needless to say, the discovery of russian designs was the real and prime cause of the despatch of the mission, while tibet's violation of treaty rights and refusal to enter into any relations with us were convenient as ostensible motives. it cannot be denied that these grievances were valid enough to justify the strongest measures. in june, , came the announcement of colonel younghusband's mission to khamba jong. i do not think that the indian government ever expected that the tibetans would come to any agreement with us at khamba jong. it is to their credit that they waited patiently several months in order to give them every chance of settling things amicably. however, as might have been expected, the commission was boycotted. irresponsible delegates of inferior rank were sent by the tibetans and chinese, and the lhasa delegates, after some fruitless parleyings, shut themselves up in the fort, and declined all intercourse, official or social, with the commissioners.[ ] [ ] their attitude was thus summed up by captain o'connor, secretary to the mission: 'we cannot accept letters; we cannot write letters; we cannot let you into our zone; we cannot let you travel; we cannot discuss matters, because this is not the proper place; go back to giogong and send away all your soldiers, and we will come to an agreement' (tibetan blue-book). at the end of august news came that the tibetans were arming. colonel younghusband learnt that they had made up their minds to have no negociations with us _inside_ tibet. they had decided to leave us alone at khamba jong, and to oppose us by force if we attempted to advance further. they believed themselves fully equal to the english, and far from our getting anything out of them, they thought that they would be able to force something out of us. this is not surprising when we consider the spirit of concession in which we had met them on previous occasions. at khamba jong the commissioners were informed by colonel chao, the chinese delegate, that the tibetans were relying on russian assistance. this was confirmed later at guru by the tibetan officials, who boasted that if they were defeated they would fall back on another power. in september the tibetans aggravated the situation by seizing and beating at shigatze two british subjects of the lachung valley in sikkim. these men were not restored to liberty until we had forced our way to lhasa and demanded their liberation, twelve months afterwards. the mission remained in its ignominious position at khamba jong until its recall in november. almost at the same time the expedition to gyantse was announced.[ ] [ ] the situation was thus eloquently summarized by the government of india in a despatch to mr. brodrick, november , : 'it is not possible that the tibet government should be allowed to ignore its treaty obligations, thwart trade, encroach upon our territory, destroy our boundary pillars, and refuse even to receive our communications. still less do we think that when an amicable conference has been arranged for the settlement of these difficulties we should acquiesce in our mission being boycotted by the very persons who have been deputed to meet it, our officers insulted, our subjects arrested and ill-used, and our authority despised by a petty power which only mistakes our forbearance for weakness, and which thinks that by an attitude of obstinate inertia it can once again compel us, as it has done in the past, to desist from our intentions.' in the face of the gross and deliberate affront to which we had been subjected at khamba jong it was now, of course, impossible to withdraw from tibetan territory until we had impressed on the lamas the necessity of meeting us in a reasonable spirit. it was clear that the tibetans meant fighting, and the escort had to be increased to , men. the patience of government was at last exhausted, and it was decided that the mission was to proceed into tibet, dictate terms to the lamas, and, if necessary, enforce compliance. the advance to gyantse was sanctioned in the first place. but it was quite expected that the obstinacy of the tibetans would make it necessary to push on to lhasa. colonel younghusband crossed the jelap la into tibet on december , meeting with no opposition. phari jong was reached on the th, and the fort surrendered without a shot being fired. thence the mission proceeded on january across the tang pass, and took up its quarters on the cold, wind-swept plateau of tuna, at an elevation of , feet. here it remained for three months, while preparations were being made for an advance in the spring. four companies of the rd pioneers, a machine-gun section of the norfolk regiment, and twenty madras sappers, were left to garrison the place, and general macdonald, with the remainder of the force, returned to chumbi for winter quarters. chumbi ( , feet) is well within the wood belt, but even here the thermometer falls to ° below zero. a more miserable place to winter in than tuna cannot be imagined. but for political reasons, it was inadvisable that the mission should spend the winter in the chumbi valley, which is not geographically a part of tibet proper. a retrograde movement from khamba jong to chumbi would be interpreted by the tibetans as a sign of yielding, and strengthen them in their opinion that we had no serious intention of penetrating to gyantse. with this brief account of the facts that led to the expedition i abandon politics for the present, and in the succeeding chapters will attempt to give a description of the chumbi valley, which, i believe, was untrodden by any european before colonel younghusband's arrival in december, . i was in india when i received permission to join the force. i took the train to darjeeling without losing a day, and rode into chumbi in less than forty-eight hours, reaching the british camp on january . chapter ii over the frontier chumbi, _january ._ from darjeeling to lhasa is miles. these, as in the dominions of namgay doola's raja, are mostly on end. the road crosses the tibetan frontier at the jelap la ( , feet) eighty miles to the north-east. from observatory hill in darjeeling one looks over the bleak hog-backed ranges of sikkim to the snows. to the north and north-west lie kinchenjunga and the tremendous chain of mountains that embraces everest. to the north-east stretches a lower line of dazzling rifts and spires, in which one can see a thin gray wedge, like a slice in a christmas cake. that is the jelap. beyond it lies tibet. there is a good military road from siliguri, the base station in the plains to rungpo, forty-eight miles along the teesta valley. by following the river-bed it avoids the two steep ascents to kalimpong and ari. the new route saves at least a day, and conveys one to rungli, nearly seventy miles from the base, without compassing a single tedious incline. it has also the advantage of being practicable for bullock-carts and ekkas as far as rungpo. after that the path is a -foot mule-track, at its best a rough, dusty incline, at its worst a succession of broken rocks and frozen puddles, which give no foothold to transport animals. from rungpo the road skirts the stream for sixteen miles to rungli, along a fertile valley of some , feet, through rice-fields and orange-groves and peaceful villages, now the scene of military bustle and preparation. from rungli it follows a winding mountain torrent, whose banks are sometimes sheer precipitous crags. then it strikes up the mountain side, and becomes a ladder of stone steps over which no animal in the world can make more than a mile and a half an hour. from the valley to gnatong is a climb of some , feet without a break. the scenery is most magnificent, and i doubt if it is possible to find anywhere in the same compass the characteristics of the different zones of vegetation--from tropical to temperate, from temperate to alpine--so beautifully exhibited. at ordinary seasons transport is easy, and one can take the road in comfort; but now every mule and pony in sikkim and the terai is employed on the lines of communication, and one has to pay rupees for an animal of the most modest pretensions. it is reckoned eight days from darjeeling to chumbi, but, riding all day and most of the night, i completed the journey in two. newspaper correspondents are proverbially in a hurry. to send the first wire from chumbi i had to leave my kit behind, and ride with poshteen[ ] and sleeping-bag tied to my saddle. i was racing another correspondent. at rungpo i found that he was five hours ahead of me, but he rested on the road, and i had gained three hours on him before he left the next stage at rora thang. here i learnt that he intended to camp at lingtam, twelve miles further on, in a tent lent him by a transport officer. i made up my mind to wait outside lingtam until it was dark, and then to steal a march on him unobserved. but i believed no one. wayside reports were probably intended to deceive me, and no doubt my informant was his unconscious confederate. [ ] sheepskin. outside rungli, six miles further on, i stopped at a little bhutia's hut, where he had been resting. they told me he had gone on only half an hour before me. i loitered on the road, and passed lingtam in the dark. the moon did not rise till three, and riding in the dark was exciting. at first the white dusty road showed clearly enough a few yards ahead, but after passing lingtam it became a narrow path cut out of a thickly-wooded cliff above a torrent, a wall of rock on one side, a precipice on the other. here the darkness was intense. a white stone a few yards ahead looked like the branch of a tree overhead. a dim shapeless object to the left might be a house, a rock, a bear--anything. uphill and downhill could only be distinguished by the angle of the saddle. every now and then a firefly lit up the white precipice an arm's-length to the right. once when my pony stopped panting with exhaustion i struck a match and found that we had come to a sharp zigzag. part of the revetment had fallen; there was a yard of broken path covered with fern and bracken, then a drop of some hundred feet to the torrent below. after that i led my beast for a mile until we came to a charcoal-burner's hut. two or three bhutias were sitting round a log fire, and i persuaded one to go in front of me with a lighted brand. so we came to sedongchen, where i left my beast dead beat, rested a few hours, bought a good mule, and pressed on in the early morning by moonlight. the road to gnatong lies through a magnificent forest of oak and chestnut. for five miles it is nothing but the ascent of stone steps i have described. then the rhododendron zone is reached, and one passes through a forest of gnarled and twisted trunks, writhing and contorted as if they had been thrust there for some penance. the place suggested a scene from dante's 'inferno.' as i reached the saddle of lingtu the moon was paling, and the eastern sky-line became a faint violet screen. in a few minutes kinchenjunga and kabru on the north-west caught the first rays of the sun, and were suffused with the delicate rosy glow of dawn. i reached gnatong in time to breakfast with the th gurkhas. the camp lies in a little cleft in the hills at an elevation of , feet. when i last visited the place i thought it one of the most desolate spots i had seen. my first impressions were a wilderness of gray stones and gray, uninhabited houses, felled tree-trunks denuded of bark, white and spectral on the hillside. there was no life, no children's voices or chattering women, no bazaar apparently, no dogs barking, not even a pariah to greet you. if there was a sound of life it was the bray of some discontented mule searching for stray blades of grass among the stones. there were some fifty houses nearly all smokeless and vacant. some had been barracks at the time of the last sikkim war, and of the soldiers who inhabited them fifteen still lay in gnatong in a little gray cemetery, which was the first indication of the nearness of human life. the inscriptions over the graves were all dated , , or , and though but fourteen years had passed, many of them were barely decipherable. the houses were scattered about promiscuously, with no thought of neighbourliness or convenience, as though the people were living there under protest, which was very probably the case. but the place had its picturesque feature. you might mistake some of the houses for tumbledown swiss châlets of the poorer sort were it not for the miniature fir-trees planted on the roofs, with their burdens of prayers hanging from the branches like parcels on a christmas-tree. these were my impressions a year or two ago, but now gnatong is all life and bustle. in the bazaar a convoy of mules was being loaded. the place was crowded with nepalese coolies and tibetan drivers, picturesque in their woollen knee-boots of red and green patterns, with a white star at the foot, long russet cloaks bound tightly at the waist and bulging out with cooking-utensils and changes of dress, embroidered caps of every variety and description, as often as not tied to the head by a wisp of hair. in rotten row--the inscription of still remains--i met a subaltern with a pair of skates. he showed me to the mess-room, where i enjoyed a warm breakfast and a good deal of chaff about correspondents who 'were in such a devil of a hurry to get to a god-forsaken hole where there wasn't going to be the ghost of a show.' i left gnatong early on a borrowed pony. a mile and a half from the camp the road crosses the tuko pass, and one descends again for another two miles to kapup, a temporary transport stage. the path lies to the west of the bidang tso, a beautiful lake with a moraine at the north-west side. the mountains were strangely silent, and the only sound of wild life was the whistling of the red-billed choughs, the commonest of the _corvidæ_ at these heights. they were flying round and round the lake in an unsettled manner, whistling querulously, as though in complaint at the intrusion of their solitude. i reached the jelap soon after noon. no snow had fallen. the approach was over broken rock and shale. at the summit was a row of cairns, from which fluttered praying-flags and tattered bits of votive raiment. behind us and on both sides was a thin mist, but in front my eyes explored a deep narrow valley bathed in sunshine. here, then, was tibet, the forbidden, the mysterious. in the distance all the land was that yellow and brick-dust colour i had often seen in pictures and thought exaggerated and unreal. far to the north-east chumulari ( , feet), with its magnificent white spire rising from the roof-like mass behind, looked like an immense cathedral of snow. far below on a yellow hillside hung the kanjut lamasery above rinchengong. in the valley beneath lay chumbi and the road to lhasa. there is a descent of over , feet in six miles from the summit of the jelap. the valley is perfectly straight, without a bend, so that one can look down from the pass upon the kanjut monastery on the hillside immediately above yatung. the pass would afford an impregnable military position to a people with the rudiments of science and martial spirit. a few riflemen on the cliffs that command it might annihilate a column with perfect safety, and escape into bhutan before any flanking movement could be made. yet miles of straggling convoy are allowed to pass daily with the supplies that are necessary for the existence of the force ahead. the road to phari jong passes through two military walls. the first at yatung, six miles below the pass, is a senseless obstruction, and any able-bodied tommy with hobnailed boots might very easily kick it down. it has no block-houses, and would be useless against a flank attack. before our advance to chumbi the wall was inhabited by three chinese officials, a dingpon, or tibetan sergeant, and twenty tibetan soldiers. it served as a barrier beyond which no british subject was allowed to pass. the second wall lies across the valley at gob-sorg, four miles beyond our camp at chumbi. it is roofed and loop-holed like the yatung barrier, and is defended by block-houses. this fortification and every mile of valley between the jelap and gautsa might be held by a single company against an invading force. yet there are not half a dozen chinese or tibetan soldiers in the valley. no opposition is expected this side of the tang la, but nondescript troops armed with matchlocks and bows hover round the mission on the open plateau beyond. our evacuation of khamba jong and occupation of chumbi were so rapid and unexpected that it is thought the tibetans had no time to bring troops into the valley; but to anyone who knows their strategical incompetence, no explanation is necessary. yatung is reached by one of the worst sections of road on the march; one comes across a dead transport mule at almost every zigzag of the descent. for ten years the village has enjoyed the distinction of being the only place in southern tibet accessible to europeans. not that many europeans avail themselves of its accessibility, for it is a dreary enough place to live in, shrouded as it is in cloud more than half the year round, and embedded in a valley so deep and narrow that in winter-time the sun has hardly risen above one cliff when it sinks behind another. the privilege of access to yatung was the result of the agreement between great britain and china with regard to trade communications between india and tibet drawn up in darjeeling in , subsequently to the sikkim convention. it was then stipulated that there should be a trade mart at yatung to which british subjects should have free access, and that there should be special trade facilities between sikkim and tibet. it is reported that the chinese amban took good care that great britain should not benefit by these new regulations, for after signing the agreement which was to give the indian tea-merchants a market in tibet, he introduced new regulations the other side of the frontier, which prohibited the purchase of indian tea. whether the story is true or not, it is certainly characteristic of the evasion and duplicity which have brought about the present armed mission into tibet. to-day, as one rides through the cobbled street of yatung, the only visible effects of the convention are the chinese customs house with its single european officer, and the residence of a lady missionary, or trader, as the exigencies of international diplomacy oblige her to term herself. the customs house, which was opened on may , , was first established with the object of estimating the trade between india and tibet--traffic is not permitted by any other route than the jelap--and with a view to taxation when the trade should make it worth while. it was stipulated that no duties should be levied for the period of five years. up to the present no tariff has been imposed, and the only apparent use the customs house serves is to collect statistics, and perhaps to remind tibet of the shadowy suzerainty of china. the natives have boycotted the place, and refuse to trade there, and no european or native of india has thought it worth while to open a market. phari is the real trade mart on the frontier, and kalimpong, in british bhutan, is the foreign trade mart. but the whole trade between india and tibet is on such a small scale that it might be in the hands of a single merchant. the customs house, the missionary house, and the houses of the clerks and servants of the customs and of the headman, form a little block. beyond it there is a quarter of a mile of barren stony ground, and then the wall with military pretensions. i rode through the gate unchallenged. at rinchengong, a mile beyond the barrier, the yatung stream flows into the ammo chu. the road follows the eastern bank of the river, passing through cheuma and old chumbi, where it crosses the stream. after crossing the bridge, a mile of almost level ground takes one into chumbi camp. i reached chumbi on the evening of january , and was able to send the _daily mail_ the first cable from tibet, having completed the journey from darjeeling in two days' hard riding. the camp lies in a shallow basin in the hills, and is flanked by brown fir-clad hills which rise some , feet above the river-bed, and preclude a view of the mountains on all sides. the situation is by no means the best from the view of comfort, but strategic reasons make it necessary, for if the camp were pitched half a mile further up the valley, the gorge of the stream which debouches into the ammo river to the north of chumbi would give the tibetans an opportunity of attacking us in the rear. despite the protection of almost arctic clothing, one shivers until the sun rises over the eastern hill at ten o'clock, and shivers again when it sinks behind the opposite one at three. icy winds sweep the valley, and hurricanes of dust invade one's tent. against this cold one clothes one's self in flannel vest and shirt, sweater, flannel-lined coat, poshteen or cashmere sheepskin, wool-lined gilgit boots, and fur or woollen cap with flaps meeting under the chin. the general effect is barbaric and picturesque. in after-days the trimness of a military club may recall the scene--officers clad in gold-embroidered poshteen, yellow boots, and fur caps, bearded like wild kerghizes, and huddling round the camp fire in this black cauldron-like valley under the stars. officers are settling down in chumbi as comfortably as possible for winter quarters. primitive dens have been dug out of the ground, walled up with boulders, and roofed in with green fir-branches. in some cases a natural rock affords a whole wall. the den where i am now writing is warmed by a cheerful pinewood blaze, a luxury after the _angeiti_ in one's tent. i write at an operating-table after a dinner of minal (pheasant) and yak's heart. a gramophone is dinning in my ears. it is destined, i hope, to resound in the palace of potala, where the dalai lama and his suite may wonder what heathen ritual is accompanied by 'a jovial monk am i,' and 'her golden hair was hanging down her back.' both at home and in india one hears the tibet mission spoken of enviously as a picnic. there is an idea of an encampment in a smiling valley, and easy marches towards the mysterious city. in reality, there is plenty of hard and uninteresting work. the expedition is attended with all the discomforts of a campaign, and very little of the excitement. colonel younghusband is now at tuna, a desolate hamlet on the tibetan plateau, exposed to the coldest winds of asia, where the thermometer falls to ° below zero. detachments of the escort are scattered along the line of communications in places of varying cold and discomfort, where they must wait until the necessary supplies have been carried through to phari. it is not likely that colonel younghusband will be able to proceed to gyantse before march. in the meanwhile, imagine the pioneers and gurkhas, too cold to wash or shave, shivering in a dirty tibetan fort, half suffocated with smoke from a yak-dung fire. then there is the transport officer shut up in some narrow valley of sikkim, trying to make half a dozen out of three with his camp of sick beasts and sheaf of urgent telegrams calling for supplies. he hopes there will be 'a show,' and that he may be in it. certainly if anyone deserves to go to lhasa and get a medal for it, it is the supply and transport man. but he will be left behind. chapter iii the chumbi valley chumbi, _february, ._ the chumbi valley is inhabited by the tomos, who are said to be descendants of ancient cross-marriages between the bhutanese and lepchas. they only intermarry among themselves, and speak a language which would not be understood in other parts of tibet. as no tibetan proper is allowed to pass the yatung barrier, the tomos have the monopoly of the carrying trade between phari and kalimpong. they are voluntarily under the protection of the tibetans, who treat them liberally, as the lamas realize the danger of their geographical position as a buffer state, and are shrewd enough to recognise that any ill treatment or oppression would drive them to seek protection from the bhutanese or british. the tomos are merry people, hearty, and good-natured. they are wonderfully hardy and enduring. in the coldest winter months, when the thermometer is ° below zero, they will camp out at night in the snow, forming a circle of their loads, and sleep contentedly inside with no tent or roofing. the women would be comely if it were not for the cutch that they smear over their faces. the practice is common to the tibetans and bhutanese, but no satisfactory reason has been found for it. the jesuit father, johann grueber, who visited tibet in , attributed the custom to a religious whim:--'the women, out of a religious whim, never wash, but daub themselves with a nasty kind of oil, which not only causes them to stink intolerably, but renders them extremely ugly and deformed.' a hundred and eighty years afterwards huc noticed the same habit, and attributed it to an edict issued by the dalai lama early in the seventeenth century. 'the women of tibet in those days were much given to dress, and libertinage, and corrupted the lamas to a degree to bring their holy order into a bad repute.' the then nome khan (deputy of the dalai lama), accordingly issued an order that the women should never appear in public without smearing their faces with a black disfiguring paste. huc recorded that though the order was still obeyed, the practice was observed without much benefit to morals. if you ask a tomo or tibetan to-day why their women smear and daub themselves in this unbecoming manner, they invariably reply, like the mussulman or hindu, that it is custom. mongolians do not bother themselves about causes. the tomo women wear a flat green distinctive cap, with a red badge in the front, which harmonizes with their complexion--a coarse, brick red, of which the primal ingredients are dirt and cutch, erroneously called pig's blood, and the natural ruddiness of a healthy outdoor life in a cold climate. a procession of these sirens is comely and picturesque--at a hundred yards. they wrap themselves round and round with a thick woollen blanket of pleasing colour and pattern, and wear on their feet high woollen boots with leather or rope soles. if it was not for their disfiguring toilet many of them would be handsome. the children are generally pretty, and i have seen one or two that were really beautiful. when we left a camp the villagers would generally get wind of it, and come down for loot. old newspapers, tins, bottles, string, and cardboard boxes were treasured prizes. we threw these out of our cave, and the children scrambled for them, and even the women made dives at anything particularly tempting. my last impression of lingmathang was a group of women giggling and gesticulating over the fashion plates and advertisements in a number of the _lady_, which somebody's _memsahib_ had used for the packing of a ham. the tomos, though not naturally given to cleanliness, realize the hygienic value of their hot springs. there are resorts in the neighbourhood of chumbi as fashionable as homburg or salsomaggiore; mixed bathing is the rule, without costumes. these healthy folk are not morbidly conscious of sex. the springs contain sulphur and iron, and are undoubtedly efficacious. where they are not hot enough, the tomos bake large boulders in the ashes of a log fire, and roll them into the water to increase the temperature. tomos and tibetans are fond of smoking. they dry the leaves of the wild rhubarb, and mix them with tobacco leaves. the mixture is called _dopta_, and was the favourite blend of the country. now hundreds of thousands of cheap american cigarettes are being introduced, and a lucrative tobacco-trade has sprung up. boxes of ten, which are sold at a pice in darjeeling, fetch an anna at chumbi, and two annas at phari. sahibs smoke them, sepoys smoke them, drivers and followers smoke them, and the tomo coolies smoke nothing else. tibetan children of three appreciate them hugely, and the road from phari to rungpo is literally strewn with the empty boxes. there is a considerable chinese element in the chumbi valley--a frontier officer, with the local rank of the fourth button, a colonel, clerks of the customs house, and troops numbering from one to two hundred. these, of course, were not in evidence when we occupied the valley in december. the chinese are not accompanied by their wives, but take to themselves women of the country, whose offspring people the so-called chinese villages. the pure chinaman does not remain in the country after his term of office. life at chumbi is the most tedious exile to him, and he looks down on the tomos as barbarous savages. he is as unhappy as a frenchman in tonquin, cut off from all the diversions of social and intellectual life. the frontier officer at bibi-thang told me that he had brought his wife with him, and the poor lady had never left the house, but cried incessantly for china and civilization. yet to the uninitiated the chinese villages of gob-sorg and bibi-thang might have been taken from the far east and plumped down on the indian frontier. there is the same far-eastern smell, the same doss-house, the same hanging lamps, the same red lucky paper over the lintels of the doors, and the same red and green abortions on the walls. much has been written and duly contradicted about the fertility of the chumbi valley. if one does not expect orange-groves and rice-fields at , feet, it must be admitted that the valley is, relatively speaking, fertile--that is to say, its produce is sufficient to support its three or four thousand inhabitants. the lower valley produces buckwheat, turnips, potatoes, radishes, and barley. the latter, the staple food of the tibetans, has, when ground, an appetizing smell very like oatmeal. the upper valley is quite sterile, and produces nothing but barley, which does not ripen; it is gathered for fodder when green, and the straw is sold at high prices to the merchants who visit phari from tibet and bhutan. this year the tibetan merchants are afraid to come, and the commissariat benefits by a very large supply of fodder which ought to see them through the summer. the idea that the valley is unusually fertile probably arose from the well-to-do appearance of the natives of rinchengong and chumbi, and their almost palatial houses, which give evidence of a prosperity due to trade rather than agriculture. the hillsides around chumbi produce wild strawberries, raspberries, currants, and cherries; but these are quite insipid in this sunless climate. the chinese custom's officer at yatung tells me that the summer months, though not hot, are relaxing and enervating. the thermometer never rises above °. the rainfall does not average quite inches; but almost daily at noon a mist creeps up from bhutan, and a constant drizzle falls. in june, july, and august, , there were only three days without rain. at phari i met a venerable old gentleman who gave me some statistics. the old man, katsak kasi by name, was a tibetan from the kham province, acting at phari as trade agent for the bhutanese government. his face was seared and parchment-like from long exposure to cold winds and rough weather. his features were comparatively aquiline--that is to say, they did not look as if they had been flattened out in youth. he wore a very large pair of green spectacles, with a gold bulb at each end and a red tassel in the middle, which gave him an air of wisdom and distinction. he answered my rather inquisitive questions with courtesy and decision, and yet with such a serious care for details that i felt quite sure his figures must be accurate. [illustration: rock sculptures.] if statistics were any gauge of the benefits indian trade would derive from an open market with tibet, the present mission, as far as commercial interests are concerned, would be wasted. according to kasi's statistics, the cost of two dozen or thirty mules would balance the whole of the annual revenue on indian imports into the country. the idea that duties are levied at the yatung and gob-sorg barriers is a mistake. the only customs house is at phari, where the indian and bhutanese trade-routes meet. the customs are under the supervision of the two jongpens, who send the revenue to lhasa twice a year. the annual income on imports from india, kasi assured me, is only , rupees, whereas the income on exports amounts to , . tibetan trade with india consists almost entirely of wool, yaks'-tails, and ponies. there is a tax of rupees annas on ponies, rupee a maund on wool, and rupee annas a maund on yaks'-tails. our imports into tibet, according to kasi's statistics, are practically nil. some piece goods, iron vessels, and tobacco leaves find their way over the jelap, but it is a common sight to see mules returning into tibet with nothing but their drivers' cooking utensils and warm clothing.[ ] [ ] the only articles imported to the value of £ , are cotton goods, woollen cloths, metals, chinaware, coral, indigo, maize, silk, fur, and tobacco. the only exports to the value of £ , are musk, ponies, skins, wool, and yaks'-tails. appended are the returns for the years - : year. value of articles value of articles total value of imported into exported from imports and tibet. tibet. exports. rs. rs. rs. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , _customs house returns, yatung._ at present no indian tea passes yatung. that none is sold at phari confirms the rumour i mentioned that the chinese amban, after signing the trade regulations between india and tibet in darjeeling, , crossed the frontier to introduce new laws, virtually annulling the regulations. indian tea might be carried into tibet, but not sold there. tibet has consistently broken all her promises and treaty obligations. she has placed every obstacle in the way of indian trade, and insulted our commissioners; yet the despatch of the present mission with its armed escort has been called an act of aggression. when i asked kasi if the tibetans would be angry with him for helping us, he said they would certainly cut off his head if he remained in the fort after we had left. there is some foundation in travellers' stories about the punishment inflicted on the guards of the passes and other officials who fail to prevent europeans entering tibet or pushing on towards lhasa. some chumbi traders who were in lhasa when we entered the valley are still detained there, as far as i can gather, as hostages for the good behaviour of their neighbours. in tibet the punishment does not fit the crime. the guards of a pass are punished for letting white men through, quite irrespective of the opposing odds. the commonest punishment in tibet is flogging, but the ordeal is so severe that it often proves fatal. i asked kasi some questions about the magisterial powers of the two jongpens, or district officers, who remained in the fort some days after we occupied it. he told me that they could not pass capital sentence, but they might flog the prisoners, and if they died, nothing was said. several victims have died of flogging at phari. the natives in darjeeling have a story of tibetan methods, which have always seemed to me the refinement of cruelty. at gyantse, they say, the criminal is flung into a dark pit, where he cannot tell whether it is night or day. cobras and scorpions and reptiles of various degrees of venom are his companions; these he may hear in the darkness, for it is still enough, and seek or avoid as he has courage. food is sometimes thrown in to tempt any faint-hearted wretch to prolong his agony. i asked kasi if there were any truth in the tale. he told me that there were no venomous snakes in tibet, but he had heard that there was a dark prison in gyantse, where criminals sometimes died of scorpion bites; he added that only the worst offenders were punished in this way. the modified version of the story is gruesome enough. it is usual for tibetan and bhutanese officials to receive their pay in grain, it being understood that their position puts them in the way of obtaining the other necessaries of life, and perhaps a few of its luxuries. kasi, being an important official, receives from the bhutan government forty maunds of barley and forty maunds of rice annually. he receives, in addition, a commission on the trade disputes that he decides in proportion to their importance. he is now an invaluable servant of the british government. at his nod the barren solitudes round phari are wakening into life. from the fort bastions one sees sometimes on the hills opposite an indistinct black line, like a caterpillar gradually assuming shape. they are kasi's yaks coming from some blind valley which no one but a hunter or mountaineer would have imagined to exist. ponies, grain, and fodder are also imported from bhutan and sold to the mutual gratification of the bhutanese and ourselves. the yaks are hired and employed on the line of communications. it is to be hoped that the bhutanese, when they hear of our good prices, will send supplies over the frontier to hasten our advance. but we must take care than no harm befalls kasi for his good services. when i asked him how he stood with the tibetan government, he laid his hand in a significant manner across his throat. lingmathang, _february._ before entering the bare, unsheltered plateau of tibet, the road to lhasa winds through seven miles of pine forest, which recalls some of the most beautiful valleys of switzerland. the wood-line ends abruptly. after that there is nothing but barrenness and desolation. the country round chumbi is not very thickly forested. there are long strips of arable land on each side of the road, and villages every two or three miles. the fields are terraced and enclosed within stone walls. scattered on the hillside are stone-built houses, with low, over-hanging eaves, and long wooden tiles, each weighed down with a gray boulder. one might imagine one's self in kandersteg or lauterbrunnen; only lofty praying flags and _mani_-walls brightly painted with buddhistic pictures and inscriptions dispel the illusion. there is no lack of colour. in the winter months a brier with large red berries and a low, foxy-brown thornbush, like a young osier in march, lend a russet hue to the landscape. higher on the hills the withered grass is yellow, and the blending of these quiet tints, russet, brown, and yellow, gives the valley a restful beauty; but in cloud it is sombre enough. three years ago i visited yatung in may. in springtime there is a profusion of colour. the valley is beautiful, beyond the beauty of the grandest alpine scenery, carpeted underfoot with spring flowers, and ablaze overhead with flowering rhododendrons. to try to describe mountains and forests is a most unprofitable task; all the adjectives of scenic description are exhausted; the coinage has been too long debased. for my own part, it has been almost a pain to visit the most beautiful parts of the earth and to know that one's sensations are incommunicable, that it is impossible to make people believe and understand. to those who have not seen, scenery is either good, bad, or indifferent; there are no degrees. ruskin, the greatest master of description, is most entertaining when he is telling us about the domestic circle at herne hill. but mountain scenery is of all the most difficult to describe. the sense of the himalayas is intangible. there are elusive lights and shades, and sounds and whispers, and unfamiliar scents, and a thousand fleeting manifestations of the genius of the place that are impossible to arrest. magnificent, majestic, splendid, are weak, colourless words that depict nothing. it is the poets who have described what they have not seen who have been most successful. milton's hell is as real as any landscape of byron's, and the country through which childe roland rode to the dark tower is more vivid and present to us than any of wordsworth's westmoreland tarns and valleys. so it is a poem of the imagination--'kubla khan'--that seems to me to breathe something of the spirit of the yatung and chumbi valleys, only there is a little less of mystery and gloom here, and a little more of sunshine and brightness than in the dream poem. instead of attempting to describe the valley--paradise would be easier to describe--i will try to explain as logically as possible why it fascinated me more than any scenery i have seen. i had often wondered if there were any place in the east where flowers grow in the same profusion as in europe--in england, or in switzerland. the nearest approach i had seen was in the plateau of the southern shan states, at about , feet, where the flora is very homelike. but the ground is not _carpeted_; one could tread without crushing a blossom. flowers are plentiful, too, on the southern slopes of the himalayas, and on the hills on the siamese side of the tennasserim frontier, but i had seen nothing like a field of marsh-marigolds and cuckoo-flowers in may, or a meadow of buttercups and daisies, or a bank of primroses, or a wood carpeted with bluebells, or a hillside with heather, or an alpine slope with gentians and ranunculus. i had been told that in persia in springtime the valleys of the shapur river and the karun are covered profusely with lilies, also the forests of manchuria in the neighbourhood of the great white mountain; but until i crossed the jelapla and struck down the valley to yatung i thought i would have to go west to see such things again. never was such profusion. besides the primulas[ ]--i counted eight different kinds of them--and gentians and anemones and celandines and wood sorrel and wild strawberries and irises, there were the rhododendrons glowing like coals through the pine forest. as one descended the scenery became more fascinating; the valley narrowed, and the stream was more boisterous. often the cliffs hung sheer over the water's edge; the rocks were coated with green and yellow moss, which formed a bed for the dwarf rhododendron bushes, now in full flower, white and crimson and cream, and every hue between a dark reddish brown and a light sulphury yellow--not here and there, but everywhere, jostling one another for nooks and crannies in the rock.[ ] [ ] between gnatong and gautsa, thirteen different species of primulas are found. they are: _primula petiolaris_, _p. glabra_, _p. sapphirina_, _p. pusilia_, _p. kingii_, _p. elwesiana_, _p. capitata_, _p. sikkimensis_, _p. involucra_, _p. denticulata_, _p. stuartii_, _p. soldanelloides_, _p. stirtonia_. [ ] the species are: _rhododendron campanulatum_, purple flowers; _r. fulgens_, scarlet; _r. hodgsonii_, rose-coloured; _r. anthopogon_, white; _r. virgatum_, purple; _r. nivale_, rose-red; _r. wightii_, yellow; _r. falconeri_, cream-coloured; _r. cinndbarinum_, brick-red ('the gates of tibet,' appendix i., j. a. h. louis). these delicate flowers are very different from their dowdy cousin, the coarse red rhododendron of the english shrubbery. at a little distance they resemble more hothouse azaleas, and equal them in wealth of blossom. the great moss-grown rocks in the bed of the stream were covered with equal profusion. looking behind, the snows crowned the pine-trees, and over them rested the blue sky. and here is the second reason--as i am determined to be logical in my preference--why i found the valley so fascinating. in contrasting the himalayas with the alps, there is always something that the former is without. never the snows, and the water, and the greenery at the same time; if the greenery is at your feet, the snows are far distant; where the himalayas gain in grandeur they lose in beauty. so i thought the wild valley of lauterbrunnen, lying at the foot of the jungfrau, the perfection of alpine scenery until i saw the valley of yatung, a pine-clad mountain glen, green as a hawthorn hedge in may, as brilliantly variegated as a beechwood copse in autumn, and culminating in the snowy peak that overhangs the jelapla. the valley has besides an intangible fascination, indescribable because it is illogical. certainly the light that played upon all these colours seemed to me softer than everyday sunshine; and the opening spring foliage of larch and birch and mountain ash seemed more delicate and varied than on common ground. perhaps it was that i was approaching the forbidden land. but what irony, that this seductive valley should be the approach to the most bare and unsheltered country in asia! even now, in february, i can detect a few salmon-coloured leaf-buds, which remind me that the month of may will be a revelation to the mission force, when their veins are quickened by the unfamiliar warmth, and their eyes dazzled by this unexpected treasure which is now germinating in the brown earth. four miles beyond chumbi the road passes through the second military wall at the chinese village of gob-sorg. riding through the quiet gateway beneath the grim, hideous figure of the goddess dolma carved on the rock above, one feels a silent menace. one is part of more than a material invasion; one has passed the gate that has been closed against the profane for centuries; one has committed an irretrievable step. goddess and barrier are symbols of tibet's spiritual and material agencies of opposition. we have challenged and defied both. we have entered the arena now, and are to be drawn into the vortex of all that is most sacred and hidden, to struggle there with an implacable foe, who is protected by the elemental forces of nature. inside the wall, above the road, stands the chinese village of gob-sorg. the chinamen come out of their houses and stand on the revetment to watch us pass. they are as quiet and ugly as their gods. they gaze down on our convoys and modern contrivances with a silent contempt that implies a consciousness of immemorial superiority. who can tell what they think or what they wish, these undivinable creatures? they love money, we know, and they love something else that we cannot know. it is not country, or race, or religion, but an inscrutable something that may be allied to these things, that induces a mental obstinacy, an unfathomable reserve which may conceal a wisdom beyond our philosophy or mere callousness and indifference. the thing is there, though it has no european name or definition. it has caused many curious and unexplained outbreaks in different parts of the world, and it is no doubt symbolized in their inexpressibly hideous flag. the element is non-conductive, and receives no current from progress, and it is therefore incommunicable to us who are wrapped in the pride of evolution. the question here and elsewhere is whether the chinese love money more or this inscrutable dragon element. if it is money, their masks must have concealed a satisfaction at the prospect of the increased trade that follows our flag; if the dragon element, a grim hope that we might be cut off in the wilderness and annihilated by asiatic hordes. unlike the chinese, the tomos are unaffectedly glad to see us in the valley. the humblest peasant is the richer by our presence, and the landowners and traders are more prosperous than they have been for many years. their uncompromising reception of us makes a withdrawal from the chumbi valley impossible, for the tibetans would punish them relentlessly for the assistance they have given their enemies. a mile beyond gob-sorg is the tibetan village of galing-ka, where the praying-flags are as thick as masts in a dockyard, and streams of paper prayers are hung across the valley to prevent the entrance of evil spirits. chubby little children run out and salute one with a cry of 'backsheesh!' the first alien word in their infant vocabulary. a mile further a sudden turn in the valley brings one to a level plain--a phenomenally flat piece of ground where one can race two miles along the straight. no one passes it without remarking that it is the best site for a hill-station in northern india. where else can one find a racecourse, polo-ground, fishing, and shooting, and a rainfall that is little more than a third of that of darjeeling? three hundred feet above the stream on the west bank is a plateau, apparently intended for building sites. the plain in the valley was naturally designed for the training of mounted infantry, and is now, probably for the first time, being turned to its proper use. lingmathang, _march ._ i have left the discomforts of phari, and am camping now on the lingmathang plain. i am writing in a natural cave in the rock. the opening is walled in by a sangar of stones feet high, from which pine-branches support a projecting roof. on fine days the space between the roof and wall is left open, and called the window; but when it snows, gunny-bags are let down as purdahs, and the den becomes very warm and comfortable. there is a natural hearth, a natural chimney-piece, and a natural chimney that draws excellently. the place is sheltered by high cliffs, and it is very pleasant to look out from this snugness on a wintry landscape, and ground covered deep with snow. outside, seventy shaggy tibetan ponies, rough and unshod, averaging · hands, are tethered under the shelter of a rocky cliff. they are being trained according to the most approved methods of modern warfare. the mounted infantry corps, mostly volunteers from the rd and nd pioneers and th gurkhas, are under the command of captain ottley of the rd. the corps was raised at gnatong in december, and though many of the men had not ridden before, after two months' training they cut a very respectable figure in the saddle. a few years ago a proposal was made to the military authorities that the pioneers, like other regiments, should go in for a course of mounted infantry training. the reply caused much amusement at the time. the suggestion was not adopted, but orders were issued that 'every available opportunity should be taken of teaching the pioneers to ride in carts.' a wag in the force naturally suggests that the new ekka corps, now running between phari and tuna, should be utilized to carry out the spirit of this order. certainly on the road beyond the tangla the ekkas would require some sitting. the present mission is the third 'show' on which the rd and nd have been together during the last nine years. in chitral and waziristan they fought side by side. it is no exaggeration to say that these regiments have been on active service three years out of five since they were raised in . the original draft of the nd, it will be remembered, was the unarmed volunteer corps of mazbi sikhs, who offered themselves as an escort to the convoy from lahore to delhi during the siege. the mazbis were the most lawless and refractory folk in the punjab, and had long been the despair of government. on arrival at delhi they were employed in the trenches, rushing in to fill up the places of the killed and wounded as fast as they fell. it will be remembered that they formed the fatigue party who carried the powder-bags to blow up the cashmere gate. a hundred and fifty-seven of them were killed during the siege. with this brilliant opening it is no wonder that they have been on active service almost continually since. a frontier campaign would be incomplete without the nd or rd. it was the nd who cut their way through feet of snow, and carried the battery guns to the relief of chitral. the rd pioneers were also raised from the mazbi sikhs in the same year of the mutiny, . the history of the two regiments is very similar. the rd distinguished themselves in china, abyssinia, afghanistan, and numerous frontier campaigns. one of the most brilliant exploits was when, with the gordon highlanders under major (now sir george) white, they captured the afghan guns at kandahar. to-day the men of the two regiments meet again as members of the same corps on the lingmathang plain. naturally the most cordial relations exist between the men, and one can hear them discussing old campaigns as they sit round their pinewood fires in the evenings. they and the twenty men of the th gurkhas (of manipur fame) turn out together every morning for exercise on their diminutive steeds. they ride without saddle or stirrups, and though they have only been horsemen for two months, they seldom fall off at the jumps. the other day, when a mazbi sikh took a voluntary into the hedge, a genial gurkha reminded him of the eccentric order 'to practise riding in carts.' at lingmathang we have had a fair amount of sport of a desultory kind. the neighbouring forests are the home of that very rare and little-known animal, the shao, or sikkim stag. the first animal of the species to fall to a european gun was shot by major wallace dunlop on the lingmathang hills in january. a month later captain ottley wounded a buck which he was not able to follow up on account of a heavy fall of snow. lately one or two shao--does in all cases--have come down to visit the plain. while we were breakfasting on the morning of the th, we heard a great deal of shouting and halloaing, and a gurkha jemadar ran up to tell us that a female shao, pursued by village dogs, had broken through the jungle on the hillside and emerged on the plain a hundred yards from our camp. we mounted at once, and ottley deployed the mounted infantry, who were ready for parade, to head the beast from the hills. the shao jinked like a hare, and crossed and recrossed the stream several times, but the poor beast was exhausted, and, after twenty minutes' exciting chase, we surrounded it. captain ottley threw himself on the animal's neck and held it down until a sepoy arrived with ropes to bind its hind-legs. the chase was certainly a unique incident in the history of sport--a field of seventy in the himalayas, a clear spurt in the open, no dogs, and the quarry the rarest zoological specimen in the world. the beast stood nearly hands, and was remarkable for its long ears and elongated jaw. the sequel was sad. besides the fright and exhaustion, the captured shao sustained an injury in the loin; it pined, barely nibbled at its food, and, after ten days, died. sikkim stags are sometimes shot by native shikaris, and there is great rivalry among members of the mission force in buying their heads. they are shy, inaccessible beasts, and they are not met with beyond the wood limit. the shooting in the chumbi valley is interesting to anyone fond of natural history, though it is a little disappointing from the sportsman's point of view. when officers go out for a day's shooting, they think they have done well if they bring home a brace of pheasants. when the sappers and miners began to work on the road below gautsa, the blood-pheasants used to come down to the stream to watch the operations, but now one sees very few game-birds in the valley. the minal is occasionally shot. the cock-bird, as all sportsmen know, is, with the exception of the argus-eye, the most beautiful pheasant in the world. there is a lamasery in the neighbourhood, where the birds are almost tame. the monks who feed them think that they are inhabited by the spirits of the blest. where the snow melts in the pine-forests and leaves soft patches and moist earth, you will find the blood-pheasant. when you disturb them they will run up the hillside and call vociferously from their new hiding-place, so that you may get another shot. pheasant-shooting here is not sport; the birds seldom rise, and when they do it is almost impossible to get a shot at them in the thick jungle. one must shoot them running for the pot. ten or a dozen is not a bad bag for one gun later in the year, when more snow has fallen. at a distance the blood-pheasant appears a dowdy bird. the hen is quite insignificant, but, on a closer acquaintance, the cock shows a delicate colour-scheme of mauve, pink, and green, which is quite different from the plumage of any other bird i have seen. the skins fetch a good price at home, as fishermen find them useful for making flies. a sportsman who has shot in the yatung valley regularly for four years tells me that the cock-bird of this species is very much more numerous than the hen. another chumbi pheasant is the tracopan, a smaller bird than the minal, and very beautifully marked. i have not heard of a tracopan being shot this season; the bird is not at all common anywhere on this side of the himalayas. snow-partridge sometimes come down to the lingmathang hills; in the adjacent kongbu valley they are plentiful. these birds are gregarious, and are found among the large, loose boulders on the hill-tops. in appearance they are a cross between the british grouse and the red-legged partridge, having red feet and legs uncovered with feathers, and a red bill and chocolate breast. the feathers of the back and rump are white, with broad, defined bars of rich black. another common bird is the snow-pigeon. large flocks of them may be seen circling about the valley anywhere between phari and chumbi. sometimes, when we are sitting in our cave after dinner, we hear the tweek of solitary snipe flying overhead, but we have never flushed any. every morning before breakfast i stroll along the river bank with a gun, and often put up a stray duck. i have frequently seen goosanders on the river, but not more than two or three in a party. they never leave the himalayas. the only migratory duck i have observed are the common teal and brahminy or ruddy sheldrake, and these only in pairs. the latter, though despised on the plains, are quite edible up here. i discredit the statement that they feed on carrion, as i have never seen one near the carcasses of the dead transport animals that are only too plentiful in the valley just now. after comparing notes with other sportsmen, i conclude that the ammo chu valley is not a regular route for migratory duck. the odd teal that i shot in february were probably loiterers that were not strong enough to join in the flight southwards. near lingmathang i shot the ibis bill (_ibidorhynchus struthersi_), a bird which is allied to the oyster catchers. this was the first central asian species i met. gautsa, _february._ gautsa, which lies five miles north of lingmathang, nearly half-way between chumbi and phari, must be added to the map. a week or two ago the place was deserted and unnamed; it did not boast a single cowherd's hut. now it is a busy camp, and likely to be a permanent halting-place on the road to phari. the camp lies in a deep, moss-carpeted hollow, with no apparent egress. on three sides it is flanked by rocky cliffs, densely forested with pine and silver birch; on the fourth rises an abrupt wall of rock, which is suffused with a glow of amber light an hour before sunset. the ammo chu, which is here nothing but a -foot stream frozen over at night, bisects the camp. the valley is warm and sheltered, and escapes much of the bitter wind that never spares chumbi. after dinner one prefers the open-air and a camp fire. officers who have been up the line before turn into their tents regretfully, for they know that they are saying good-bye to comfort, and will not enjoy the genial warmth of a good fire again until they have crossed the bleak tibetan tablelands and reached the sparsely-wooded valley of gyantse. chapter iv phari jong _february ._ icy winds and suffocating smoke are not conducive to a literary style, though they sometimes inspire a rude eloquence that is quite unfit for publication. as i write we are huddling over the mess-room brazier--our youngest optimist would not call it a fire. men drop in now and then from fatigue duty, and utter an incisive phrase that expresses the general feeling, while we who write for an enlightened public must sacrifice force for euphemism. a week at phari dispels all illusions; only a bargee could adequately describe the place. yet the elements, which 'feelingly persuade us' what we are, sometimes inspire us with the eloquence of discomfort. at gautsa the air was scented with the fragrance of warm pine-trees, and there was no indication of winter save the ice on the ammo chu. the torrent roared boisterously beneath its frozen surface, and threw up little tentacles of frozen spray, which glistened fantastically in the sun. three miles further up the stream the wood-belt ends abruptly; then, after another three miles, one passes the last stunted bush; after that there is nothing but brown earth and yellow withered grass. five miles above gautsa is dotah, the most cheerless camp on the march. the wind blows through the gorge unceasingly, and penetrates to the bone. on the left bank of the stream is the frozen waterfall, which might be worshipped by the fanciful and superstitious as embodying the genius of the place, hard and resistless, a crystallized monument of the implacable spirit of nature in these high places. at kamparab, where we camped, two miles higher up the stream, the thermometer fell to ° below zero. close by is the meeting-place of the sources of the ammo chu. all the plain is undermined with the warrens of the long-haired marmots and voles, who sit on their thresholds like a thousand little spies, and curiously watch our approach, then dive down into their burrows to tell their wives of the strange bearded invaders. they are the despair of their rivals, the sappers and miners, who are trying to make a level road for the new light ekkas. one envies them their warmth and snugness as one rides against the bitter penetrating winds. twelve miles from gautsa a turn in the valley brings one into view of phari jong. at first sight it might be a huge isolated rock, but as one approaches the bastions and battlements become more distinct. distances are deceptive in this rarefied air, and objects that one imagines to be quite close are sometimes found to be several miles distant. the fort is built on a natural mound in the plain. it is a huge rambling building six stories high, surrounded by a courtyard, where mules and ponies are stabled. as a military fortification phari jong is by no means contemptible. the walls are of massive stonework which would take heavy guns to demolish. the angles are protected from attacking parties by machicolated galleries, and three enormous bastions project from each flank. these are crumbling in places, and the pioneers might destroy the bastion and breach the wall with a bag or two of guncotton. on the eastern side there is a square courtyard like an arab caravanserai, where cattle are penned. the fortress would hold the whole tibetan army, with provisions for a year. it was evacuated the night before we reconnoitred the valley. the interior of the jong is a warren of stairs, landings, and dark cavernous rooms, which would take a whole day to explore. the walls are built of stone and mud, and coated with century-old smoke. there are no chimneys or adequate windows, and the filth is indescribable. when phari was first occupied, eighty coolies were employed a whole week clearing away refuse. judging by the accretion of dirt, a new-comer might class the building as medieval; but filth is no criterion of age, for everything left in the same place becomes quickly coated with grime an inch thick. the dust that invades one's tent at chumbi is clean and wholesome compared to the phari dirt, which is the filth of human habitation, the secretion of centuries of foul living. it falls from the roof on one's head, sticks to one's clothes as one brushes against the wall, and is blown up into one's eyes and throat from the floor. the fort is most insanitary, but a military occupation is necessary. the hacking coughs which are prevalent among officers and men are due to impurities of the air which affect the lungs. cartloads of dirt are being scraped away every day, but gusts of wind from the lower stories blow up more dust, which penetrates every nook and cranny of the draughty rooms, so that there is a fresh layer by nightfall. to clear the lower stories and cellars would be a hopeless task; even now rooms are found in unexpected places which emit clouds of dust whenever the wind eddies round the basement. i explored the ground-floor with a lantern, and was completely lost in the maze of passages and dark chambers. when we first occupied the fort, they were filled with straw, gunpowder, and old arms. a hundred and forty maunds of inferior gunpowder was destroyed, and the arms now litter the courtyard. these the tibetans themselves abandoned as rubbish. the rusty helmets, shields, and breastplates are made of the thinnest iron plates interlaced with leathern thongs, and would not stop an arrow. the old bell-mouthed matchlocks, with their wooden ground-rests, would be more dangerous to the tibetan marksmen than the enemy. the slings and bows and arrows are reckoned obsolete even by these primitive warriors. perhaps they attribute more efficacy to the praying-wheels which one encounters at every corner of the fort. the largest are in niches in the wall to left and right of the gateway; rows of smaller ones are attached to the banisters on the landings and to the battlements of the roof. the wheels are covered with grime--the grime of lamas' hands. dirt and religion are inseparable in tibet. the lamas themselves are the most filthy and malodorous folk i have met in the country. from this it must not be inferred that one class is more cleanly in its habits than another, for nobody ever thinks of washing. soap is not included in the list of sundries that pass the customs house at yatung. if the lamas are dirtier than the yak-herds and itinerant merchants it is because they lead an indoor life, whereas the pastoral folk are continually exposed to the purifying winds of the tablelands, which are the nearest equivalent in tibet to a cold bath. i once read of a tibetan saint, one of the pupils of naropa, who was credited with a hundred miraculous gifts, one of which was that he could dive into the water like a fish. wherein the miracle lay had often puzzled me, but when i met the lamas of the kanjut gompa i understood at once that it was the holy man's contact with the water. phari is eloquent of piety, as it is understood in tibet. the better rooms are frescoed with buddhistic paintings, and on the third floor is a library, now used as a hospital, where xylograph editions of the lamaist scriptures and lives of the saints are pigeon-holed in lockers in the wall. the books are printed on thin oblong sheets of chinese paper, enclosed in boards, and illuminated with quaint coloured tailpieces of holy men in devotional attitudes. phari fort, with its casual blending of east and west, is full of incongruous effects, but the oddest and most pathetic incongruity is the chorten on the roof, from which, amidst praying-flags and pious offerings of coloured raiment, flutters the union jack. _february ._ the troops are so busy making roads that they have very little time for amusements. the th gurkhas have already constructed some eight miles of road on each side of phari for the ekka transport. companies of the rd pioneers are repairing the road at dotah, chumbi, and rinchengong. the nd are working at rinchengong, and the sappers and miners on the nathula and at gautsa. we have started football, and the gurkhas have a very good idea of the game. one loses one's wind completely at this elevation after every spurt of twenty yards, but recovers it again in a wonderfully short time. other amusements are sliding and tobogganing, which are a little disappointing to enthusiasts. the ice is lumpy and broken, and the streamlets that run down to the plain are so tortuous that fifty yards without a spill is considered a good run for a toboggan. the funniest sight is to see the gurkha soldiers trying to drag the toboggan uphill, slipping and tumbling and sprawling on the ice, and immensely enjoying one another's discomfiture. to clear the dust from one's throat and shake off the depression caused by weeks of waiting in the same place, there is nothing like a day's shooting or exploring in the neighbourhood of phari. i get up sometimes before daybreak, and spend the whole day reconnoitring with a small party of mounted infantry. yesterday we crossed a pass which looked down into the kongbu valley--a likely camping-ground for the tibetan troops. the valley is connected to the north with the tuna plateau, and is almost as fertile in its lower stretches as chumbi. a gray fortress hangs over the cliff on the western side of the valley, and above it tower the glaciers of shudu-tsenpa and the gora pass into sikkim. on the eastern side, at a creditable distance from the fort, we could see the kongbu nunnery, which looked from where we stood like an old roman viaduct. the nuns, i was told, are rarely celibate; they shave the head and wear no ornaments. riding back we saw some burrhel on the opposite hills, too far off to make a successful stalk possible. the valley is full of them, and a week later some officers from phari on a yak-collecting expedition got several good heads. the tibetan gazelle, or goa (_gazella hirticaudata_), is very common on the phari plateau, and we bagged two that afternoon. when the force first occupied the jong, they were so tame that a sportsman could walk up to within yards of a herd, and it was not an uncommon thing for three buck to fall to the same gun in a morning. now one has to manoeuvre a great deal to get within yards of them. sportsmen who have travelled in other parts of tibet say the goa are very shy and inaccessible. perhaps their comparative tameness near phari may be accounted for by the fact that the old trade route crosses the plateau, and they have never been molested by the itinerant merchants and carriers. gazelle meat is excellent. it has been a great resource for the garrison. no epicure could wish for anything better. another unfamiliar beast that one meets in the neighbourhood of phari is the kyang, or tibetan wild ass (_equus hemionus_), one or two of which have been shot for specimens. the kyang is more like a zebra than a horse or donkey. its flesh, i believe, is scorned even by camp-followers. hare are fairly plentiful, but they are quite flavourless. a huge solitary gray wolf (_canis laniger_) was shot the other day, the only one of its kind i have seen. occasionally one puts up a fox. the tibetan species has a very fine brush that fetches a fancy price in the bazaar. at present there is too much ice on the plain to hunt them, but they ought to give good sport in the spring. it was dark when we rode into the jong. after a long day in the saddle, dinner is good, even though it is of yak's flesh, and it is good to sit in front of a fire even though the smoke chokes you. i went so far as to pity the cave-dwellers at chumbi. phari is certainly very much colder, but it has its diversions and interests. there is still some shooting to be had, and the place has a quaint old-world individuality of its own, which seasons the monotony of life to a contemplative man. one is on the borderland, and one has a micawber-like feeling that something may turn up. after dinner there is bridge, which fleets the time considerably, but at chumbi there were no diversions of any kind--nothing but dull, blank, uninterrupted monotony. _february ._ for two days half a blizzard has been blowing, and expeditions have been impossible. everything one eats and drinks has the same taste of argol smoke. at breakfast this morning we had to put our _chapatties_ in our pockets to keep them clean, and kept our meat covered with a soup-plate, making surreptitious dives at it with a fork. after a few seconds' exposure it was covered with grime. sausages and bully beef, which had just been boiled, were found to be frozen inside. the smoke in the mess-room was suffocating. so to bed, wrapped in sheepskins and a sleeping-bag. under these depressing conditions i have been reading the narratives of bogle and manning, old english worthies who have left on record the most vivid impressions of the dirt and cold and misery of phari. it is ninety years since thomas manning passed through phari on his way to lhasa. previously to his visit we only know of two englishmen who have set foot in phari--bogle in , and turner in , both emissaries of warren hastings. manning's journal is mostly taken up with complaints of his chinese servant, who seems to have gained some mysterious ascendancy over him, and to have exercised it most unhandsomely. as a traveller manning had a genius for missing effects; it is characteristic of him that he spent sixteen days at phari, yet except for a casual footnote, evidently inserted in his journal after his return, he makes no mention of the jong. were it not for bogle's account of thirty years before, we might conclude that the building was not then in existence. on october , , manning writes in his diary: 'we arrived at phari jong. frost. frost also two days before. i was lodged in a strange place, but so were the natives.' on the th he summarized his impressions of phari:--'dirt, dirt, grease, smoke, misery, but good mutton.' manning's journal is expressive, if monosyllabic. he was of the class of subjective travellers, who visit the ends of the earth to record their own personal discomforts. sensitive, neurotic, ever on the look-out for slights, he could not have been a happy vagabond. a dozen lines record the impressions of his first week at phari. he was cheated; he was treated civilly; he slighted the magistrates, mistaking them for idle fellows; he was turned out of his room to make way for chinese soldiers; he quarrelled with his servant. a single extract portrays the man to the life, as if he were sitting dejectedly by his yak-dung fire at this hour brooding over his wrongs:-- "the chinaman was cross again." says i, "was that a bird at the magistrate's that flapped so loud?" answer: "what signifies whether it was a bird or not?" where he sat i thought he might see; and i was curious to know if such large birds frequented the _building_. these are the answers i get. he is always discontented and grumbling, and takes no trouble off my hands. being younger, and, like all asiatics, able to stoop and crouch without pain or difficulty, he might assist me in many things without trouble to himself. a younger brother or any english young gentleman would in his place of course lay the cloth, and do other little services when i am tired; but he does not seem to have much of the generous about him, nor does he in any way serve me, or behave to me with any show of affection or goodwill: consequently i grow no more attached to him than the first day i saw him. i could not have thought it possible for me to have lived so long with anyone without either disliking him or caring sixpence for him. he has good qualities, too. the strangeness of his situation may partly excuse him. (i am more attached to my guide, with all his faults, who has been with me but a few days.) my guide has behaved so damnably ill since i wrote that, that i wish it had not come into my mind.' i give the extract at length, not only as an illuminating portrait of manning, but as an incidental proof that he visited the jong, and that it was very much the same building then as it is to-day. but had it not been for the flapping of the bird which occasioned the quarrel with his chinese servant, manning would have left phari without a reference to the wonderful old fortress which is the most romantic feature on the road from india to gyantse. appended to the journal is this footnote to the word _building_, which i have italicized in the extract: 'the building is immensely large, six or more stories high, a sort of fortress. at a distance it appears to be all phari jong. indeed, most of it consists of miserable galleries and holes.' members of the mission force who have visited phari will no doubt attribute manning's evident ill-humour and depression during his stay there to the environments of the place, which have not changed much in the last ninety years. but his spirits improved as he continued his journey to gyantse and lhasa, and he reveals himself the kindly, eccentric, and affectionate soul who was the friend and intimate of charles lamb. bogle arrived at phari on october , . he and turner and manning all entered tibet through bhutan. 'as we advanced,' he wrote in his journal, 'we came in sight of the castle of phari jong, which cuts a good figure from without. it rises into several towers with the balconies, and, having few windows, has the look of strength; it is surrounded by the town.' the only other reference he makes to the jong shows us that the fortress was in bad repair so long ago as . 'the two lhasa officers who have the government of phari jong sent me some butter, tea, etc., the day after my arrival; and letting me know that they expected a visit from me, i went. the inside of the castle did not answer the notion i had formed of it. the stairs are ladders worn to the bone, and the rooms are little better than garrets.' the origin of the fort is unknown. some of the inhabitants of phari say that it was built more than a hundred years ago, when the nepalese were overrunning sikkim. but this is obviously incorrect, as the tibetan-nepalese war, in which the chinese drove the gurkhas out of tibet, and defeated their army within a day's march of khatmandu, took place in - , whereas bogle's description of the jong was written fourteen years earlier. a more general impression is that centuries ago orders came from lhasa to collect stones on the hillsides, and the building was constructed by forced labour in a few months. that is a tale of endurance and suffering that might very likely be passed from father to son for generations. bogle's description of the town might have been written by an officer of the garrison to-day, only he wrote from the inmate's point of view. he noticed the houses 'so huddled together that one may chance to overlook them,' and the flat roofs covered with bundles of straw. he knocked his head against the low ceilings, and ran against the pillars that supported the beams. 'in the middle of the roof,' he wrote, 'is a hole to let out smoke, which, however, departs not without making the whole room as black as a chimney. the opening serves also to let in the light; the doors are full of holes and crevices, through which the women and children keep peeping.' needless to say nothing has changed in the last hundred and thirty years, unless it is that the women are bolder. i looked down from the roof this morning on phari town, lying like a rabbit-warren beneath the fort. all one can see from the battlement are the flat roofs of low black houses, from which smoke issues in dense fumes. the roofs are stacked with straw, and connected by a web of coloured praying-flags running from house to house, and sometimes over the narrow alleys that serve as streets. enormous fat ravens perch on the wall, and innumerable flocks of twittering sparrows. for warmth's sake most of the rooms are underground, and in these subterranean dens tibetans, black as coal-heavers, huddle together with yaks and mules. tibetan women, equally dirty, go about, their faces smeared and blotched with caoutchouc, wearing a red, hoop-like head-dress, ornamented with alternate turquoises and ruby-coloured stones. in the fort the first thing one meets of a morning is a troop of these grimy sirens, climbing the stairs, burdened with buckets of chopped ice and sacks of yak-dung, the two necessaries of life. the tibetan coolie women are merry folk; they laugh and chatter over their work all day long, and do not in the least resist the familiarities of the gurkha soldiers. sometimes as they pass one they giggle coyly, and put out the tongue, which is their way of showing respect to those in high places; but when one hears their laughter echoing down the stairs it is difficult to believe that it is not intended for saucy impudence. their merriment sounds unnatural in all this filth and cold and discomfort. certainly if bogle returned to phari he would find the women very much bolder, though, i am afraid, not any cleaner. could he see the englishmen in phari to-day, he might not recognise his compatriots. often in civilized places i shall think of the group at phari in the mess-room after dinner--a group of ruffianly-looking bandits in a blackened, smut-begrimed room, clad in wool and fur from head to foot, bearded like wild men of the woods, and sitting round a yak-dung fire, drinking rum. after a week at phari the best-groomed man might qualify for a caricature of bill sikes. perhaps one day in piccadilly one may encounter a half-remembered face, and something familiar in walk or gait may reveal an old friend of the jong. then in 'jimmy's,' memories of argol-smoke and frozen moustaches will give a zest to a bottle of beaune or chablis, which one had almost forgotten was once dreamed of among the unattainable luxuries of life. _march - ._ orders have come to advance from phari jong. it seems impossible, unnatural, that we are going on. after a week or two the place becomes part of one's existence; one feels incarcerated there. it is difficult to imagine life anywhere else. one feels as if one could never again be cold or dirty, or miserably uncomfortable, without thinking of that gray fortress with its strange unknown history, standing alone in the desolate plain. for my own part, speaking figuratively--and unfigurative language is impotent on an occasion like this--the place will leave an indelible black streak--very black indeed--on a kaleidoscopic past. there can be no faint impressions in one's memories of phari jong. the dirt and smoke and dust are elemental, and the cold is the cold of the lamas' frigid hell. all the while i was in phari i forgot the mystery of tibet. i have felt it elsewhere, but in the jong i only wondered that the inscrutable folk who had lived in the rooms where we slept, and fled in the night, were content with their smut-begrimed walls, blackened ceilings, and chimneyless roofs, and still more how amidst these murky environments any spiritual instincts could survive to inspire the religious frescoings on the wall. yet every figure in this intricate blending of designs is significant and symbolical. one's first impression is that these allegories and metaphysical abstractions must have been meaningless to the inmates of the jong; for we in europe cannot dissociate the artistic expression of religious feeling from cleanliness and refinement, or at least pious care. one feels that they must be the relics of a decayed spirituality, preserved not insincerely, but in ignorant superstition, like other fetishes all over the world. yet this feeling of scepticism is not so strong after a month or two in tibet. at first one is apt to think of these dirty people as merely animal and sensual, and to attribute their religious observances to the fear of demons who will punish the most trivial omission in ritual. next one begins to wonder if they really believe in the efficacy of mechanical prayer, if they take the trouble to square their conscience with their inclinations, and if they have any sincere desire to be absorbed in the universal spirit. then there may come a suspicion that the better classes, though not given to inquiry, have a settled dogma and definite convictions about things spiritual and natural that are not easily upset. perhaps before we turn our backs on the mystery of tibet we will realize that the lamas despise us as gross materialists and philistines--we who are always groping and grasping after the particular, while they are absorbed in the sublime and universal. after all, devious and unscrupulous as their policy may have been, the tibetans have had one definite aim in view for centuries--the preservation of their church and state by the exclusion of all foreign and heretical influences. when we know that the mongol cannot conceive of the separation of the spiritual and temporal government, it is only natural to infer that the first mission, spiritual or otherwise, to a foreign court should introduce the first elements of dissolution in a system of government that has held the country intact for centuries. and let it be remarked that great britain is not responsible for this deviation in a hitherto inveterate policy. but to return to phari. my last impression of the place as i passed out of its narrow alleys was a very dirty old man, seated on a heap of yak-dung over the gutter. he was turning his prayer-wheel, and muttering the sacred formula that was to release him from all rebirth in this suffering world. the wish seemed natural enough. it was a bright, clear morning when we turned our backs on the old fort and started once more on the road to lhasa. five miles from phari we passed the miserable little village of chuggya, which is apparently inhabited by ravens and sparrows, and a diminutive mountain-finch that looks like a half-starved robin. a mile to the right before entering the village is the monastery of the red lamas, which was the lodging-place of the bhutanese envoy during his stay at phari. the building, which is a landmark for miles, is stone-built, and coated over with red earth, which gives it the appearance of brick. its overhanging gables, mullioned windows without glass, that look like dominoes in the distance, the pendent bells, and the gay decorations of chinese paper, look quaint and mystical, and are in keeping with the sacred character of the place. bogle stopped here on october , , and drank tea with the abbot. it is very improbable that any other white man has set foot in the monastery since, until the other day, when some of the garrison paid it a visit and took photographs of the interior. the lamas were a little deprecatory, but evidently amused. i did not expect them to be so tolerant of intrusion, and their clamour for backsheesh on our departure dispelled one more illusion. at chuggya we were at the very foot of chumulari ( , feet), which seems to rise sheer from the plain. the western flank is an abrupt wall of rock, but, as far as one can see, the eastern side is a gradual ascent of snow, which would present no difficulties to the trained mountaineer. one could ride up to , feet, and start the climb from a base , feet higher than mont blanc. chumulari is the most sacred mountain in tibet, and it is usual for devout buddhists to stop and offer a sacrifice as they pass. bogle gives a detailed account of the service, the rites of which are very similar to some i witnessed at galingka on the tibetan new year, february . 'here we halted,' he wrote in his journal, 'and the servants gathering together a parcel of dried cow-dung, one of them struck fire with his tinder-box and lighted it. when the fire was well kindled, parma took out a book of prayers, one brought a copper cup, another filled it with a kind of fermented liquor out of a new-killed sheep's paunch, mixing in some rice and flour; and after throwing some dried herbs and flour into the flame, they began their rites. parma acted as chaplain. he chanted the prayers in a loud voice, the others accompanying him, and every now and then the little cup was emptied towards the rock, about eight or ten of these libations being poured forth. the ceremony was finished by placing upon the heap of stones the little ensign which my fond imagination had before offered up to my own vanity.' most of the flags and banners one sees to-day on the chortens and roofs of houses, and cairns on the mountain-tops, must be planted with some such inaugural ceremony. facing chumulari on the west, and apparently only a few miles distant, are the two sikkim peaks of powhunri ( , feet) and shudu-tsenpa ( , feet). from chuggya the tangla is reached by a succession of gradual rises and depressions. the pass is not impressive, like the jelap, as a passage won through a great natural barrier. one might cross it without noticing the summit, were it not for the customary cairns and praying-flags which the lamas raise in all high places. from a slight rise on the east of the pass one can look down across the plateau on tuna, an irregular black line like a caterpillar, dotted with white spots, which glasses reveal to be tents. the bamtso lake lies shimmering to the east beneath brown and yellow hills. at noon objects dance elusively in the mirage. distances are deceptive. yaks grazing are like black bedouin tents. here, then, is the forbidden land. the approach is as it should be. one's eyes explore the road to lhasa dimly through a haze. one would not have it laid out with the precision of a diagram. chapter v the road and transport to write of any completed phase of the expedition at this stage, when i have carried my readers only as far as tuna, is a lapse in continuity that requires an apology. my excuse is that to all transport officers, and everyone who was in touch with them, the tuna and phari plains will be remembered as the very backbone of resistance, the most implacable barriers to our advance. the expedition was essentially a transport 'show.' it is true that the tibetans proved themselves brave enemies, but their acquired military resources are insignificant when compared with the obstacles nature has planted in the path of their enemies. the difficulty of the passes, the severity of the climate, the sterility of the mountains and tablelands, make the interior of the country almost inaccessible to an invading army. that we went through these obstacles and reached lhasa itself was a matter of surprise not only to the tibetans, but to many members of the expeditionary force. to appreciate the difficulties the mission force had to contend with, one must first realize the extraordinary changes of climate that are experienced in the journey from siliguri to tuna. choose the coldest day in the year at kew gardens, expose yourself freely to the wind, and then spend five minutes in the tropical house, and you may gather some idea of the sensation of sleeping in the rungpo valley the night after crossing the jelapla. when i first made the journey in early january, even the rungpo valley was chilly, and the vicissitudes were not so marked; but i felt the change very keenly in march, when i made a hurried rush into darjeeling for equipment and supplies. our camp at lingmathang was in the pine-forest at an elevation of , feet. it was warm and sunny in the daytime, in places where there was shelter from the wind. leaf-buds were beginning to open, frozen waterfalls to thaw, migratory duck were coming up the valley in twos and threes from the plains of india--even a few vultures had arrived to fatten on the carcasses of the dead transport animals. the morning after leaving lingmathang i left the pine-forest at , feet, and entered a treeless waste of shale and rock. when i crossed the jelapla half a hurricane was blowing. the path was a sheet of ice, and i had to use hands and knees, and take advantage of every protuberance in the rock to prevent myself from being blown over the _khud_. the road was impassable for mules and ponies. the cold was numbing. the next evening, in a valley , feet beneath, i was suffering from the extreme of heat. the change in scenery and vegetation is equally striking--from glaciers and moraines to tropical forests brilliant with the scarlet cotton-flower and purple baleria. in tibet i had not seen an insect of any kind for two months, but in the sikkim valleys the most gorgeous butterflies were abundant, and the rest-house at rungpo was invested by a plague of flies. in the hot weather the climate of the sikkim valleys is more trying than that of most stations in the plains of india. the valleys are close and shut in, and the heat is intensified by the radiation from the rocks, cliffs, and boulders. in the rains the climate is relaxing and malarious. the supply and transport corps, who were left behind at stages like rungpo through the hot weather, had, to my mind, a much harder time on the whole than the half-frozen troops at the front, and they were left out of all the fun. besides the natural difficulties of the road, the severity of climate, and the scarcity of fodder and fuel, the transport corps had to contend with every description of disease and misfortune--anthrax, rinderpest, foot and mouth disease, aconite and rhododendron poisoning, falling over precipices, exhaustion from overwork and underfeeding. the worst fatalities occurred on the khamba jong side in . the experiments with the transport were singularly unsuccessful. out of two hundred buffaloes employed at low elevations, only three survived, and the seven camels that were tried on the road between siliguri and gantok all died by way of protest. later on in the year the yak corps raised in nepal was practically exterminated. from four to five thousand were originally purchased, of which more than a thousand died from anthrax before they reached the frontier. all the drinking-water on the route was infected; the nepalese did not believe the disease was contagious, and took no precautions. the disease spread almost universally among the cattle, and at the worst time twenty or thirty died a day. the beasts were massed on the nepal frontier. segregation camps were formed, and ultimately, after much patient care, the disease was stamped out. then began the historic march through sikkim, which, as a protracted struggle against natural calamities, might be compared to the retreat of the ten thousand, or the flight of the kalmuck tartars. superstitious natives might well think that a curse had fallen on us and our cattle. as soon as they were immune from anthrax, the reduced corps were attacked by rinderpest, which carried off seventy. when the herds left the singli-la range and descended into the valley, the sudden change in climate overwhelmed hundreds. no real yak survived the heat of the sikkim valleys. all that were now left were the zooms, or halfbreeds from the bull-yaks and the cow, and the cross from the bull and female yaks. in sikkim, which is always a hotbed of contagious cattle diseases, the wretched survivors were infected with foot and mouth disease. the epidemic is not often fatal, but visiting an exhausted herd, fever-stricken, and weakened by every vicissitude of climate, it carried off scores. then, to avoid spreading contagion, the yaks were driven through trackless, unfrequented country, up and down precipitous mountain-sides, and through dense forests. again segregation camps were formed, and the dead cattle were burnt, twenty and thirty at a time. every day there was a holocaust. then followed the ascent into high altitudes, where a more insidious evil awaited the luckless corps. the few survivors were exterminated by pleuro-pneumonia. when, on january , the rd yak corps reached chumbi, it numbered ; two months afterwards all but had died. on march , exhausted beasts straggled into chumbi; they were the remainder of the st and nd yak corps, which originally numbered , heads. the officers, who, bearded and weather-beaten, deserted by many of their followers, after months of wandering, reached our camp with the remnants of the corps, told a story of hardship and endurance that would provide a theme for an epic. the epic of the yaks does not comprise the whole tale of disaster. rinderpest carried off pack-bullocks out of , and a whole corps was segregated for two months with foot and mouth disease. amongst other casualties there were heavy losses among the cashmere pony corps, and the tibet pony corps raised locally. the animals were hastily mobilized and incompletely equipped, overworked and underfed. cheap and inferior saddlery was issued, which gave the animals sore backs within a week. the transport officer was in a constant dilemma. he had to overwork his animals or delay the provisions, fodder, and warm clothing so urgently needed at the front. ponies and mules had no rest, but worked till they dropped. of the original draft of mules that were employed on the line to khamba jong, fully per cent. died. it is no good trying to blink the fact that the expedition was unpopular, and that at the start many economical shifts were attempted which proved much more expensive in the end. our party system is to blame. the opposition must be appeased, expenses kept down, and the business is entered into half-heartedly. in the usual case a few companies are grudgingly sent to the front, and then, when something like a disaster falls or threatens, john bull jumps at the sting, scenting a national insult. a brigade follows, and government wakes to the necessity of grappling with the situation seriously. but to return to the spot where the evil effects of the system were felt, and not merely girded at. to replace and supplement the local drafts of animals that were dying, trained government mule corps were sent up from the plains, properly equipped and under experienced officers. these did excellent work, and , mules arrived in lhasa on august in as good condition as one could wish. of all transport animals, the mule is the hardiest and most enduring. he does not complain when he is overloaded, but will go on all day, and when he drops there is no doubt that he has had enough. nine times out of ten when he gives up he dies. no beast is more indifferent to extremes of heat and cold. on the road from kamparab to phari one day, three mules fell over a cliff into a snowdrift, and were almost totally submerged. their drivers could not pull them out, and, to solve the dilemma, went on and reported them dead. the next day an officer found them and extricated them alive. they had been exposed to ° of frost. they still survive. nothing can beat the sircar mule when he is in good condition, unless it is the balti and ladaki coolie. several hundred of these hardy mountaineers were imported from the north-west frontier to work on the most dangerous and difficult sections of the road. they can bear cold and fatigue and exposure better than any transport animal on the line, and they are surer-footed. mules were first employed over the jelap, but were afterwards abandoned for coolies. the baltis are excellent workers at high altitudes, and sing cheerily as they toil up the mountains with their loads. i have seen them throw down their packs when they reached the summit of a pass, make a rush for the shelter of a rock, and cheer lustily like school-boys. but the coolies were not all equally satisfactory. those indented from the nepal durbar were practically an impressed gang. twelve rupees a month with rations and warm clothing did not seem to reconcile them to hard work, and after a month or two they became discontented and refractory. their officers, however, were men of tact and decision, and they were able to prevent what might have been a serious mutiny. the discontented ones were gradually replaced by baltis, ladakis, and garwhalis, and the coolies became the most reliable transport corps on the line. thus, the whole menagerie, to use the expression current at the time, was got into working order, and a system was gradually developed by which the right animal, man, or conveyance was working in the right place, and supplies were sent through at a pace that was very creditable considering the country traversed. from the railway base at siliguri to gantok, a distance of sixty miles, the ascent in the road is scarcely perceptible. with the exception of a few contractors' ponies, the entire carrying along this section of the line was worked by bullock-carts. government carts are built to carry maunds ( pounds), but contractors often load theirs with or maunds. as the carrying power of mules, ponies, and pack-bullocks is only maunds, it will be seen at once that transport in a mountainous country, where there can be no road for vehicles, is nearly five times as difficult and complicated as in the plains. and this is without making any allowance for the inevitable mortality among transport animals at high elevations, or taking into account the inevitable congestion on mountain-paths, often blocked by snow, carried away by the rains, and always too narrow to admit of any large volume of traffic. in the beginning of march, when the line was in its best working order, from , to , maunds were poured into rungpo daily. of these, only or maunds reached phari; the rest was stored at gantok or consumed on the road. later, when the line was extended to gyantse, not more than maunds a day reached the front. in the first advance on gyantse, our column was practically launched into the unknown. as far as we knew, no local food or forage could be obtained. it was too early in the season for the spring pasturage. we could not live on the country. the ever-lengthening line of communication behind us was an artery, the severing of which would be fatal to our advance. one can best realize the difficulties grappled with by imagining the extreme case of an army entering an entirely desert country. a mule, it must be remembered, can only carry its own food for ten days. that is to say, in a country where there is no grain or fodder, a convoy can make at the most nine marches. on the ninth day beasts and drivers will have consumed all the supplies taken with them. supposing on the tenth day no supply-base has been reached, the convoy is stranded, and can neither advance nor retire. nor must we forget that our imaginary convoy, which has perished in the desert, has contributed nothing to the advance of the army. food and clothing for the troops, tents, bedding, guns, ammunition, field-hospital, treasury, still await transport at the base. fortunately, the country between our frontier and lhasa is not all desert. yet it is barren enough to make it a matter of wonder that, with such short preparation, we were able to push through troops to gyantse in april, when there was no grazing on the road, and to arrive in lhasa in august with a force of more than , fighting men and followers. before the second advance to gyantse the spring crops had begun to appear. without them we could not have advanced. all other local produce on the road was exhausted. that is to say, for miles, with the important exception of wayside fodder, we subsisted entirely on our own supplies. the mules carried their own grain, and no more. gyantse once reached, the tibetan government granaries and stores from the monasteries produced enough to carry us on. but besides the transport mules, there were maxim and battery mules, as well as some mounted infantry ponies, and at least officers' mounts, to be fed, and these carried nothing--contributed nothing to the stomach of the army. how were these beasts to be fed, and how was the whole apparatus of an army to be carried along, when every additional transport animal was a tax on the resources of the transport? there were two possible solutions, each at first sight equally absurd and impracticable:--wheeled transport in tibet, or animals that did not require feeding. the supply and transport men were resourceful and fortunate enough to provide both. it was due to the light ekka and that providentially ascetic beast, the yak, that we were able to reach lhasa. the ekkas were constructed in the plains, and carried by coolies from the cart-road at rungpo eighty miles over the snow passes to kamparab on the phari plain. the carrying capacity of these light carts is pounds, two and a half times that of a mule, and there is only one mouth to feed. they were the first vehicles ever seen in tibet, and they saved the situation. the ekkas worked over the phari and tuna plains, and down the nyang chu valley as far as kangma. they were supplemented by the yaks. the yak is the most extraordinary animal nature has provided the transport officer in his need. he carries pounds, and consumes nothing. he subsists solely on stray blades of grass, tamarisk, and tufts of lichen, that he picks up on the road. he moves slowly, and wears a look of ineffable resignation. he is the most melancholy disillusioned beast i have seen, and dies on the slightest provocation. the red and white tassels and favours of cowrie-shells the tibetans hang about his neck are as incongruous on the poor beast as gauds and frippery on the heroine of a tragedy. if only he were dependable, our transport difficulties would be reduced to a minimum. but he is not. we have seen how the four thousand died in their passage across sikkim without doing a day's work. local drafts did better. yet i have often passed the lieutenant in command of the corps lamenting their lack of grit. 'two more of my cows died this morning. look, there goes another! d--n the beasts! i believe they do it out of spite!' and the chief supply and transport officer, always a humorist in adversity, when asked why they were dying off every day, said: 'i think it must be due to overfeeding.' but we owe much to the yak. the final advance from gyantse to lhasa was a comparatively easy matter. crops were plentiful, and large supplies of grain were obtained from the monasteries and jongs on the road. we found, contrary to anticipation, that the produce in this part of tibet was much greater than the consumption. in many places we found stores that would last a village three or four years. our transport animals lived on the country. we arrived at lhasa with , mules and coolies. the yak and donkey corps were left at the river for convoy work. it would have been impossible to have pushed through in the winter. all the produce we consumed on the road was paid for. in this way the expense of the army's keep fell on the lhasa government, who had to pay the indemnity, and our presence in the country was not directly, at any rate, a burden on the agricultural population of the villages through which we passed. looking back on the splendid work accomplished by the transport, it is difficult to select any special phase more memorable than another. the complete success of the organization and the endurance and grit displayed by officers and men are equally admirable. i could cite the coolness of a single officer in a mob of armed and mutinous coolies, when the compelling will of one man and a few blows straight from the shoulder kept the discontented harnessed to their work and quelled a revolt; or the case of another who drove his diseased yaks over the snow passes into chumbi, and after two days' rest started with a fresh corps on ten months of the most tedious labour the mind of man can imagine, rising every day before daybreak in an almost arctic cold, traversing the same featureless tablelands, and camping out at night cheerfully in the open plain with his escort of thirty rifles. there was always the chance of a night attack, but no other excitement to break the eternal monotony. but it was all in the day's work, and the subaltern took it like a picnic. another supreme test of endurance in man and beast were the convoys between chumbi and tuna in the early part of the year, which for hardships endured remind me of skobeleff's dash through the balkans on adrianople. only our labours were protracted, skobeleff's the struggle of a few days. even in mid-march a convoy of the th mule corps, escorted by two companies of the rd pioneers, were overtaken by a blizzard on their march between phari and tuna, and camped in two feet of snow with the thermometer ° below zero. a driving hurricane made it impossible to light a fire or cook food. the officers were reduced to frozen bully beef and neat spirits, while the sepoys went without food for thirty-six hours. the fodder for the mules was buried deep in snow. the frozen flakes blowing through the tents cut like a knife. while the detachment was crossing a stream, the mules fell through the ice, and were only extricated with great difficulty. the drivers arrived at tuna frozen to the waist. twenty men of the th mule corps were frostbitten, and thirty men of the rd pioneers were so incapacitated that they had to be carried in on mules. on the same day there were seventy cases of snow-blindness among the th gurkhas. until late in april all the plain was intersected by frozen streams. blankets were stripped from the mules to make a pathway for them over the ice. often they went without water at night, and at mid-day, when the surface of the ice was melted, their thirst was so great that many died from overdrinking. had the tibetans attacked us in january, they would have taken us at a great disadvantage. the bolts of our rifles jammed with frozen oil. oil froze in the maxims, and threw them out of gear. more often than not the mounted infantry found the butts of their rifles frozen in the buckets, and had to dismount and use both hands to extricate them. i think these men who took the convoys through to tuna; the rd, who wintered there and supplied most of the escort; and the th gurkhas, who cut a road in the frost-bound plain, may be said to have broken the back of the resistance to our advance. they were the pioneers, and the troops who followed in spring and summer little realized what they owed to them. the great difficulties we experienced in pushing through supplies to tuna, which is less than miles from our base railway-station at siliguri, show the absurdity of the idea of a russian advance on lhasa. the nearest russian outpost is over , miles distant, and the country to be traversed is even more barren and inhospitable than on our frontier. up to the present the route to chumbi has been viâ siliguri and the jelap and nathu passes, but the natural outlet of the valley is by the ammo chu, which flows through bhutan into the dooars, where it becomes the torsa. the bengal-dooars railway now extends to madhari hat, fifteen miles from the point where the torsa crosses the frontier, whence it is only forty-eight miles as the crow flies to rinchengong in the chumbi valley. when the projected ammo chu cart-road is completed, all the difficulty of carrying stores into chumbi will be obviated. engineers are already engaged on the first trace, and the road will be in working order within a few months. it avoids all snow passes, and nowhere reaches an elevation of more than , feet. the direct route will shorten the journey to chumbi by several days, bring lhasa within a month's journey of calcutta, and considerably improve trade facilities between tibet and india. chapter vi the action at the hot springs the village of tuna, which lies at the foot of bare yellow hills, consists of a few deserted houses. the place is used mainly as a halting-stage by the tibetans. the country around is sterile and unproductive, and wood is a luxury that must be carried from a distance of nearly fifty miles. it was in these dismal surroundings that colonel younghusband's mission spent the months of january, february, and march. the small garrison suffered all the discomforts of phari. the dirt and grime of the squalid little houses became so depressing that they pitched their tents in an open courtyard, preferring the numbing cold to the filth of the tibetan hovels. many of the sepoys fell victims to frost-bite and pneumonia, and nearly every case of pneumonia proved fatal, the patient dying of suffocation owing to the rarefied air. colonel younghusband had not been at tuna many days before it became clear that there could be no hope of a peaceful solution. the tibetans began to gather in large numbers at guru, eight miles to the east, on the road to lhasa. the depon, or lhasa general, whom colonel younghusband met on two occasions, repeated that he was only empowered to treat on condition that we withdrew to yatung. messages were sent from the tibetan camp to tuna almost daily asking us to retire, and negociations again came to a deadlock. after a month the tone of the tibetans became minatory. they threatened to invest our camp, and an attack was expected on march , the tibetan new year. the lamas, however, thought better of it. they held a commination service instead, and cursed us solemnly for five days, hoping, no doubt, that the british force would dwindle away by the act of god. nobody was 'one penny the worse.' though we made no progress with the tibetans during this time, colonel younghusband utilized the halt at tuna in cementing a friendship with bhutan. the neutrality of the bhutanese in the case of a war with tibet was a matter of the utmost importance. were these people unfriendly or disposed to throw in their lot with their co-religionists, the tibetans, our line of communications would be exposed to a flank attack along the whole of the tuna plain, which is conterminous with the bhutan frontier, as well as a rear attack anywhere in the chumbi valley as far south as rinchengong. the bhutanese are men of splendid physique, brave, warlike, and given to pillage. their hostility would have involved the despatch of a second force, as large as that sent to tibet, and might have landed us, if unprepared, in a serious reverse. the complete success of colonel younghusband's diplomacy was a great relief to the indian government, who were waiting with some anxiety to see what attitude the bhutanese would adopt. having secured from them assurances of their good will, colonel younghusband put their friendship to immediate test by broaching the subject of the ammo chu route to chumbi through bhutanese territory. very little time was lost before the concession was obtained from the tongsa penlop, ruler of bhutan, who himself accompanied the mission as far as lhasa in the character of mediator between the dalai lama and the british government. the importance of the ammo chu route in our future relations with tibet i have emphasized elsewhere. i doubt if ever an advance was more welcome to waiting troops than that which led to the engagement at the hot springs. for months, let it be remembered, we had been marking time. when a move had to be made to escort a convoy, it was along narrow mountain-paths, where the troops had to march in single file. there was no possibility of an attack this side of phari. the ground covered was familiar and monotonous. one felt cooped in, and was thoroughly bored and tired of the delay, so that when general macdonald marched out of phari with his little army in three columns, a feeling of exhilaration communicated itself to the troops. here was elbow-room at last, and an open plain, where all the army corps of europe might manoeuvre. at tuna, on the evening of the th, it was given out in orders that a reconnaissance in force was to be made the next morning, and two companies of the nd pioneers would be left at guru. the tibetan camp at the hot springs lay right across our line of march, and the hill that flanked it was lined with their sangars. they must either fight or retire. most of us thought that the tibetans would fade away in the mysterious manner they have, and build another futile wall further on. the extraordinary affair that followed must be a unique event in military history. the morning of the th was bitterly cold. an icy wind was blowing, and snow was lying on the ground. i put on my thick sheepskin for the first time for two months, and i owe my life to it. about an hour after leaving tuna, two or three tibetan messengers rode out from their camp to interview colonel younghusband. they got down from their ponies and began chattering in a very excited manner, like a flock of frightened parrots. it was evident to us, not understanding the language, that they were entreating us to go back, and the constant reference to yatung told us that they were repeating the message that had been sent into the tuna camp almost daily during the past few months--that if we retired to yatung the dalai lama would send an accredited envoy to treat with us. being met with the usual answer, they mounted dejectedly and rode off at a gallop to their camp. soon after they had disappeared another group of horsemen were seen riding towards us. these proved to be the lhasa depon, accompanied by an influential lama and a small escort armed with modern rifles. the rifles were naturally inspected with great interest. they were of different patterns--martini-henri, lee-metford, snider--but the clumsily-painted stocks alone were enough to show that they were shoddy weapons of native manufacture. they left no mark on our troops. according to tibetan custom, a rug was spread on the ground for the interview between colonel younghusband and the lhasa depon, who conferred sitting down. captain o'connor, the secretary of the mission, interpreted. the lhasa depon repeated the entreaty of the messengers, and said that there would be trouble if we proceeded. colonel younghusband's reply was terse and to the point. 'tell him,' he said to captain o'connor, 'that we have been negociating with tibet for fifteen years; that i myself have been waiting for eight months to meet responsible representatives from lhasa, and that the mission is now going on to gyantse. tell him that we have no wish to fight, and that he would be well advised if he ordered his soldiers to retire. should they remain blocking our path, i will ask general macdonald to remove them.' the lhasa depon was greatly perturbed. he said that he had no wish to fight, and would try and stop his men firing upon us. but before he left he again tried to induce colonel younghusband to turn back. then he rode away to join his men. what orders he gave them will never be known. i do not think the tibetans ever believed in our serious intention to advance. no doubt they attributed our evacuation of khamba jong and our long delay in chumbi to weakness and vacillation. and our forbearance since the negociations of must have lent itself to the same interpretation. as we advanced we could see the tibetans running up the hill to the left to occupy the sangars. to turn their position, general macdonald deployed the th gurkhas to the crest of the ridge; at the same time the pioneers, the maxim detachment of the norfolks, and mountain battery were deployed on the right until the tibetan position was surrounded. the manoeuvre was completely successful. the tibetans on the hill, finding themselves outflanked by the gurkhas, ran down to the cover of the wall by the main camp, and the whole mob was encircled by our troops. it was on this occasion that the sikhs and gurkhas displayed that coolness and discipline which won them a european reputation. they had orders not to fire unless they were fired upon, and they walked right up to the walls of the sangars until the muzzles and prongs of the tibetan matchlocks were almost touching their chests. the tibetans stared at our men for a moment across the wall, and then turned and shambled down sulkily to join their comrades in the redan. no one dreamed of the sanguinary action that was impending. i dismounted, and hastily scribbled a despatch on my saddle to the effect that the tibetan position had been taken without a shot being fired. the mounted orderly who carried the despatch bore a similar message from the mission to the foreign office. then the disarming began. the tibetans were told that if they gave up their arms they would be allowed to go off unmolested. but they did not wish to give up their arms. it was a ridiculous position, sikh and mongol swaying backwards and forwards as they wrestled for the possession of swords and matchlocks. perhaps the humour of it made one careless of the underlying danger. accounts differ as to how this wrestling match developed into war, how, to the delight of the troops, the toy show became the 'real thing.' of one thing i am certain, that a rush was made in the south-east corner before a shot was fired. if there had been any firing, i would not have been wandering about by the tibetan flank without a revolver in my hand. as it was, my revolver was buried in the breast pocket of my norfolk jacket under my poshteen. i have no excuse for this folly except a misplaced contempt for tibetan arms and courage--a contempt which accounted for our only serious casualty in the affair of .[ ] also i think there was in the margin of my consciousness a feeling that one individual by an act of rashness might make himself responsible for the lives of hundreds. hemmed in as the tibetans were, no one gave them credit for the spirit they showed, or imagined that they would have the folly to resist. but we had to deal with the most ignorant and benighted people on earth, most of whom must have thought our magazine rifles and maxims as harmless as their own obsolete matchlocks, and believed that they bore charms by which they were immune from death. [ ] when colonel bromhead pursued a tibetan unarmed. called upon to surrender, the tibetan turned on colonel bromhead, cut off his right arm, and badly mutilated the left. the attack on the south-east corner was so sudden that the first man was on me before i had time to draw my revolver.[ ] he came at me with his sword lifted in both hands over his head. he had a clear run of ten yards, and if i had not ducked and caught him by the knees he must have smashed my skull open. i threw him, and he dragged me to the ground. trying to rise, i was struck on the temple by a second swordsman, and the blade glanced off my skull. i received the rest of my wounds, save one or two, on my hands--as i lay on my face i used them to protect my head. after a time the blows ceased; my assailants were all shot down or had fled. i lay absolutely still for a while until i thought it safe to raise my head. then i looked round, and, seeing no tibetans near in an erect position, i got up and walked out of the ring between the rifles of the sikhs. the firing line had been formed in the meantime on a mound about thirty yards behind me, and i had been exposed to the bullets of our own men from two sides, as well as the promiscuous fire of the tibetans. [ ] the reports sent home at the time of the hot springs affair were inaccurate as to the manner in which i was wounded, and also major wallace dunlop, who was the only european anywhere near me at the time. major dunlop shot his own man, but at such close quarters that the tibetan's sword slipped down the barrel of his rifle and cut off two fingers of his left hand. general macdonald and captain bignell, who shot several men with their revolvers, were standing at the corner where the wall joined the ruined house, and did not see the attack on myself and dunlop. the tibetans could not have chosen a spot more fatal for their stand--a bluff hill to the north, a marsh and stream on the east, and to the west a stone wall built across the path, which they had to scale in their attempted assault on general macdonald and his escort. only one man got over. inside there was barely an acre of ground, packed so thickly with seething humanity that the cross-fire which the pioneers poured in offered little danger to their own men. the lhasa general must have fired off his revolver after i was struck down. i cannot credit the rumour that his action was a signal for a general attack, and that the tibetans allowed themselves to be herded together as a ruse to get us at close quarters. to begin with, the demand that they should give up their arms, and the assurance that they might go off unmolested, must have been quite unexpected by them, and i doubt if they realized the advantage of an attack at close quarters. my own impression is that the shot was the act of a desperate man, ignorant and regardless of what might ensue. to return to lhasa with his army disarmed and disbanded, and without a shot having been fired, must have meant ruin to him, and probably death. when we reached gyantse we heard that his property had been confiscated from his family on account of his failure to prevent our advance. the depon was a man of fine presence and bearing. i only saw him once, in his last interview with colonel younghusband, but i cannot dissociate from him a personal courage and a pride that must have rankled at the indignity of his position. probably he knew that his shot was suicidal. the action has been described as one of extreme folly. but what was left him if he lived except shame and humiliation? and what englishman with the same prospect to face, caught in this dark eddy of circumstance, would not have done the same thing? he could only fire, and let his men take their chance, god help them! and the rabble? they have been called treacherous. why, i don't know. they were mostly impressed peasants. they did not wish to give up their arms. why should they? they knew nothing of the awful odds against them. they were being hustled by white men who did not draw knives or fire guns. amid that babel of , men, many of them may not have heard the command; they may not have believed that their lives would have been spared. looking back on the affair with all the sanity of experience, nothing is more natural than what happened. it was folly and suicide, no doubt; but it was human nature. they were not going to give in without having a fling. i hope i shall not be considered a pro-tibetan when i say that i admire their gallantry and dash. as my wounds were being dressed i peered over the mound at the rout. they were walking away! why, in the name of all their bodhisats and munis, did they not run? there was cover behind a bend in the hill a few hundred yards distant, and they were exposed to a devastating hail of bullets from the maxims and rifles, that seemed to mow down every third or fourth man. yet they walked! it was the most extraordinary procession i have ever seen. my friends have tried to explain the phenomenon as due to obstinacy or ignorance, or spartan contempt for life. but i think i have the solution. they were bewildered. the impossible had happened. prayers, and charms, and mantras, and the holiest of their holy men, had failed them. i believe they were obsessed with that one thought. they walked with bowed heads, as if they had been disillusioned in their gods. after the last of the retiring tibetans had disappeared round the corner of the guru road, the th gurkhas descended from the low range of hills on the right of the position, and crossed the guru plain in extended order with the nd mounted infantry on their extreme left. orders were then received by major row, commanding the detachment, to take the left of the two houses which were situated under the hills at the further side of the plain. this movement was carried out in conjunction with the mounted infantry. the advance was covered by the -pounder guns of the gurkhas under captain luke, r.a. the attacking force advanced in extended order by a series of small rushes. cover was scanty, but the tibetans, though firing vigorously, fired high, and there were no casualties. at last the force reached the outer wall of the house, and regained breath under cover of it. a few men of the gurkhas then climbed on to the roof and descended into the house, making prisoners of the inmates, who numbered forty or fifty. shortly afterwards the door, which was strongly barricaded, was broken in, and the remainder of the force entered the house. during the advance a number of the tibetans attempted to escape on mules and ponies, but the greater number of these were followed up and killed. the tibetan casualties were at least . perhaps no british victory has been greeted with less enthusiasm than the action at the hot springs. certainly the officers, who did their duty so thoroughly, had no heart in the business at all. after the first futile rush the tibetans made no further resistance. there was no more fighting, only the slaughter of helpless men. it is easy to criticise after the event, but it seems to me that the only way to have avoided the lamentable affair at the hot springs would have been to have drawn up more troops round the redan, and, when the tibetans were hemmed in with the cliff in their rear, to have given them at least twenty minutes to lay down their arms. in the interval the situation might have been made clear to everyone. if after the time-limit they still hesitated, two shots might have brought them to reason. then, if they were mad enough to decide on resistance, their suicide would be on their own heads. but to send two dozen sepoys into that sullen mob to take away their arms was to invite disaster. given the same circumstances, and any mob in the world of men, women, or children, civilized or savage, and there would be found at least one rash spirit to explode the mine and set a spark to a general conflagration. it was thought at the time that the lesson would save much future bloodshed. but the tibetan is so stubborn and convinced of his self-sufficiency that it took many lessons to teach him the disparity between his armed rabble and the resources of the british raj. in the light of after-events it is clear that we could have made no progress without inflicting terrible punishment. the slaughter at guru only forestalled the inevitable. we were drawn into the vortex of war by the tibetans' own folly. there was no hope of their regarding the british as a formidable power, and a force to be reckoned with, until we had killed several thousand of their men. after the action the tibetan wounded were brought into tuna, and an abandoned dwelling-house was fitted up as a hospital. an empty cowshed outside served as an operating-theatre. the patients showed extraordinary hardihood and stoicism. after the dzama tang engagement many of the wounded came in riding on yaks from a distance of fifty or sixty miles. they were consistently cheerful, and always ready to appreciate a joke. one man, who lost both legs, said: 'in my next battle i must be a hero, as i cannot run away.' some of the wounded were terribly mutilated by shell. two men who were shot through the brain, and two who were shot through the lungs, survived. for two days lieutenant davys, indian medical service, was operating nearly all day. i think the tibetans were really impressed with our humanity, and looked upon davys as some incarnation of a medicine buddha. they never hesitated to undergo operations, did not flinch at pain, and took chloroform without fear. their recuperative power was marvellous. of the who were received in hospital, only died; were sent to their homes on hired yaks cured. everyone who visited the hospital at tuna left it with an increased respect for the tibetans. * * * * * three months after the action i found the tibetans still lying where they fell. one shot through the shoulder in retreat had spun as he fell facing our rifles. another tore at the grass with futile fingers through which a delicate pink primula was now blossoming. shrunk arms and shanks looked hideously dwarfish. by the stream the bodies lay in heaps with parched skin, like mummies, rusty brown. a knot of coarse black hair, detached from a skull, was circling round in an eddy of wind. everything had been stripped from the corpses save here and there a wisp of cloth, looking more grim than the nakedness it covered, or round the neck some inexpensive charm, which no one had thought worth taking for its occult powers. nature, more kindly, had strewn round them beautiful spring flowers--primulas, buttercups, potentils. the stream 'bubbled oilily,' and in the ruined house bees were swarming. ten miles beyond the springs an officer was watering his horse in the bamtso lake. the beast swung round trembling, with eyes astare. among the weeds lay the last victim. chapter vii a human miscellany the tibetans stood on the roofs of their houses like a row of cormorants, and watched the doolie pass underneath. at a little distance it was hard to distinguish the children, so motionless were they, from the squat praying-flags wrapped in black skin and projecting from the parapets of the roof. the very babes were impassive and inscrutable. beside them perched ravens of an ebony blackness, sleek and well groomed, and so consequential that they seemed the most human element of the group. my tibetan bearers stopped to converse with a woman on the roof who wore a huge red hoop in her hair, which was matted and touzled like a negress's. a child behind was searching it, with apparent success. the woman asked a question, and the bearers jerked out a few guttural monosyllables, which she received with indifference. she was not visibly elated when she heard that the doolie contained the first victim of the tibetan arms. i should like to have heard her views on the political situation and the question of a settlement. some of her relatives, perhaps, were killed in the mêlée at the hot springs. others who had been taken prisoners might be enlisted in the new doolie corps, and receiving an unexpected wage; others, perhaps, were wounded and being treated in our hospitals with all the skill and resources of modern science; or they were bringing in food-stuffs for our troops, or setting booby-traps for them, and lying in wait behind sangars to snipe them in the red idol gorge. the bearers started again; the hot sun and the continued exertion made them stink intolerably. every now and then they put down the doolie, and began discussing their loot--ear-rings and charms, rough turquoises and ruby-coloured stones, torn from the bodies of the dead and wounded. for the moment i was tired of tibet. i remembered another exodus when i was disgusted with the country. i had been allured across the himalayas by the dazzling purity of the snows. i had escaped the avernus of the plains, and i might have been content, but there was the seduction of the snows. i had gained an upper story, but i must climb on to the roof. every morning the sun-god threw open the magnificent portals of his domain, dazzling rifts and spires, black cliffs glacier-bitten, the flawless vaulted roof of kinchenjunga-- 'myriads of topaz lights and jacinth work of subtlest jewellery.' one morning the roof of the sun-god's palace was clear and cloudless, but about its base hung little clouds of snow-dust, as though the olympians had been holding tourney, and the dust had risen in the tracks of their chariots. all this was seen over galvanized iron roofs. the sun-god had thrown open his palace, and we were playing pitch and toss on the steps. while i was so engrossed i looked up. columns of white cloud were rising to obscure the entrance. then a sudden shaft of sunlight broke the fumes. there was a vivid flash, a dazzle of jewel-work, and the portals closed. i was covered with bashfulness and shame. it was a direct invitation. i made some excuse to my companion, said i had an engagement, went straight to my rooms, and packed. but while the aroma of my carriers insulted the pure air, and their chatter over their tawdry spoil profaned the silent precincts of chumulari, their mountain goddess, i thought more of the disenchantment of that earlier visit. i remembered sitting on a hillside near a lamasery, which was surrounded by a small village of lamas' houses. outside the temple a priest was operating on a yak for vaccine. he had bored a large hole in the shoulder, into which he alternately buried his forearm and squirted hot water copiously. a hideous yellow trickle beneath indicated that the poor beast was entirely perforated. a crowd of admiring little boys and girls looked on with relish. the smell of the poor yak was distressing, but the smell of the lama was worse. i turned away in disgust--turned my back contentedly and without regret on the mysterious land and the road to the forbidden city. at that moment, if the dalai lama himself had sent me a chaise with a dozen outriders and implored me to come, i would not have visited him, not for a thousand yaks. the scales of vagabondage fell from my eyes; the spirit of unrest died within me. i had a longing for fragrant soap, snowy white linen, fresh-complexioned ladies and clean-shaven, well-groomed men. and here again i was returning very slowly to civilization; but i was coming back with half an army corps to shake the dalai lama on his throne--or if there were no throne or dalai lama, to do what? i wondered if the gentlemen sitting snugly in downing street had any idea. at phari i was snow-bound for a week, and there were no doolie-bearers. the darjeeling dandy-wallahs were no doubt at the front, where they were most wanted, as the trained army doolie corps are plainsmen, who can barely breathe, much less work, at these high elevations. at last we secured some bhutias who were returning to the front. the bhutia is a type i have long known, though not in the capacity of bearer. these men regarded the doolie with the invalid inside as a piece of baggage that had to be conveyed from one camp to another, no matter how. of the art of their craft they knew nothing, but they battled with the elements so stoutly that one forgave them their awkwardness. they carried me along mountain-paths so slippery that a mule could find no foothold, through snow so deep and clogging that with all their toil they could make barely half a mile an hour; and they took shelter once from a hailstorm in which exposure without thick head-covering might have been fatal. often they dropped the doolie, sometimes on the edge of a precipice, in places where one perspired with fright; they collided quite unnecessarily with stones and rocks; but they got through, and that was the main point. men who have carried a doolie over a difficult mountain-pass ( , feet), slipping and stumbling through snow and ice in the face of a hurricane of wind, deserve well of the great raj which they serve. on the road into darjeeling, owing to the absence of trained doolie-bearers, i met a human miscellany that i am not likely to forget. eight miles beyond the jelap lies the fort of gnatong, whence there is a continual descent to the plains of india. the neighbouring hills and valleys had been searched for men; high wages were offered, and at last from some remote village in sikkim came a dozen weedy lepchas, simian in appearance, and of uncouth speech, who understood no civilized tongue. they had never seen a doolie, but in default of better they were employed. it was nobody's fault; bearers must be had, and the profession was unpopular. i was their 'first job.' i settled myself comfortably, all unconscious of my impending fate. they started off with a wild whoop, threw the doolie up in the air, caught it on their shoulders, and played cup and ball with the contents until they were tired. i swore at them in spanish, english, and hindustani, but it was small relief, as they didn't take the slightest notice, and i had neither hands to beat them nor feet to kick them over the _khud_. my orderly followed and told them in a mild north-country accent that they would be punished if they did it again; there is some absurd army regulation about british soldiers striking followers. for all they knew, he was addressing the stars. they dropped the thing a dozen times in ten miles, and thought it the hugest joke in the world. i shall shy at a hospital doolie for the rest of my natural life. there is a certain mongol smell which is the most unpleasant human odour i know. it is common to lepchas, bhutanese, and tibetans, but it is found in its purest essence in these low-country, cross-bred lepchas, who were my close companions for two days. when we reached the heat of the valley, they jumped into the stream and bathed, but they emerged more unsavoury than ever. it was a relief to pass a dead mule. at the next village they got drunk, after which they developed an amazing surefootedness, and carried me in without mishap. after two days with my lepchas we reached rungli ( , feet), whence the road to the plains is almost level. here a friend introduced me to a jemadar in a gurkha regiment. 'he writes all about our soldiers and the fighting in tibet,' he said. 'it all goes home to england on the telegraph-wire, and people at home are reading what he says an hour or two after he has given _khubber_ to the office here.' 'oh yes,' said the jemadar in hindustani, 'and if things are well the people in england will be very glad; and if we are ill and die, and there is too much cold, they will be very sorry.' the jemadar smiled. he was most sincere and sympathetic. if an englishman had said the same thing, he would have been thought half-witted, but orientals have a way of talking platitudes as if they were epigrams. the jemadar's speech was so much to the point that it called up a little picture in my mind of the london underground and a liveried official dealing out _daily mails_ to crowds of inquirers anxious for news of tibet. only the sun blazed overhead and the stream made music at our feet. i left the little rest-hut in the morning, resigned to the inevitable jolting, and expecting another promiscuous collection of humanity to do duty as _kahars_. but, to my great joy, i found twelve lucknow doolie-wallahs waiting by the veranda, lithe and erect, and part of a drilled corps. drill discipline is good, but in the art of their trade these men needed no teaching. for centuries their ancestors had carried palanquins in the plains, bearing rajas and ladies of high estate, perhaps even the great mogul himself. the running step to their strange rhythmic chants must be an instinct to them. that morning i knew my troubles were at an end. they started off with steps of velvet, improvising as they went a kind of plaintive song like an intoned litany. the leading man chanted a dimeter line, generally with an iambus in the first foot; but when the road was difficult or the ascent toilsome, the metre became trochaic, in accordance with the best traditions of classical poetry. the hind-men responded with a sing-song trochaic dimeter which sounded like a long-drawn-out monosyllable. they never initiated anything. it was not custom; it had never been done. the laws of nature are not so immutable as the ritual of a hindu guild. we sped on smoothly for eight miles, and when i asked the _kahars_ if they were tired, they said they would not rest, as relays were waiting on the road. all the way they chanted their hymn of the obvious:-- 'mountains are steep; _chorus_: yes, they are. the road is narrow; yes, it is. the sahib is wounded; that is so. with many wounds; they are many. the road goes down; yes, it does. now we are hurrying; yes, we are.' here they ran swiftly till the next rise in the hill. waiting in the shade for relays, i heard two englishmen meet on the road. one had evidently been attached, and was going down to join his regiment; the other was coming up on special service. i caught fragments of our crisp expressive argot. _officer going down_ (_apparently disillusioned_): 'oh, it's the same old bald-headed maidan we usually muddle into.' _officer coming up_: '... up above phari ideal country for native cavalry, isn't it?... a few men with lances prodding those fellows in the back would soon put the fear of god into them. why don't they send up the --th light cavalry?' _officer going down_: 'they've walers, and you can't feed 'em, and the --th are all jats. they're no good; can't do without a devil of a lot of milk. they want bucketsful of it. well, bye-bye; you'll soon get fed up with it.' the doolie was hitched up, and the _kahars_ resumed their chant: 'a sahib goes up; yes, he does. a sahib goes down; that is so.' the heat and the monotonous cadence induced drowsiness, and one fell to thinking of this odd motley of men, all of one genus, descended from the anthropoid ape, and exhibiting various phases of evolution--the primitive lepcha, advanced little further than his domestic dog; the tibetan _kahar_ caught in the wheel of civilization, and forming part of the mechanism used to bring his own people into line; the lucknow doolie-bearer and the jemadar sahib, products of a hoary civilization that have escaped complexity and nerves; and lord of all these, by virtue of his race, the most evolved, the english subaltern. all these folk are brought together because the people on the other side of the hills will insist on being obsolete anachronisms, who have been asleep for hundreds of years while we have been developing the sense of our duty towards our neighbour. they must come into line; it is the will of the most evolved. the next day i was carried for miles through a tropical forest. the damp earth sweated in the sun after last night's thunder-storm, and the vegetation seemed to grow visibly in the steaming moisture. gorgeous butterflies, the epicures of a season, came out to indulge a love of sunshine and suck nectar from all this profusion. overhead, birds shrieked and whistled and beat metal, and did everything but sing. the cicadas raised a deafening din in praise of their maker, seeming to think, in their natural egoism, that he had made the forest, oak, and gossamer for their sakes. we were not a thousand feet above the sea. thousands of feet above us, where we were camping a day or two ago, our troops were marching through snow. the next morning we crossed the tista river, and the road led up through sal forests to a tea-garden at , feet. here we entered the most perfect climate in the world, and i enjoyed genial hospitality and a foretaste of civilization: a bed, sheets, a warm bath, clean linen, fruit, sparkling soda, a roomy veranda with easy-chairs, and outside roses and trellis-work, and a garden bright with orchids and wild-turmeric and a profusion of semi-tropical and english flowers--all the things which the spoilt children of civilization take as a matter of course, because they have never slept under the stars, or known what it is to be hungry and cold, or exhausted by struggling against the forces of untamed nature. at noon next day, in the cantonments at jelapahar, an officer saw a strange sight--a field-hospital doolie with the red cross, and twelve _kahars_, lucknow men, whose plaintive chant must have recalled old days on the north-west frontier. behind on a mule rode a british orderly of the king's own scottish borderers, bearded and weather-stained, and without a trace of the spick-and-spanness of cantonments. i saw the officer's face lighten; he became visibly excited; he could not restrain himself--he swung round, rode after my orderly, and began to question him without shame. here was civilization longing for the wilderness, and over there, beyond the mist, under that snow-clad peak, were men in the wilderness longing for civilization. a cloud swept down and obscured the jelap, as if the chapter were closed. but it is not. that implacable barrier must be crossed again, and then, when we have won the most secret places of the earth, we may cry with burton and his arabs, 'voyaging is victory!' chapter viii the advance of the mission opposed the intention of the tibetans at the hot springs has not been made clear. they say that their orders were to oppose our advance, but to avoid a battle, just as our orders were to take away their arms, if possible, without firing a shot. the muddle that ensued lends itself to several interpretations, and the tibetans ascribe their loss to british treachery. they say that we ordered them to destroy the fuses of their matchlocks, and then fired on them. this story was taken to lhasa, with the result that the new levies from the capital were not deterred by the terrible punishment inflicted on their comrades. orders were given to oppose us on the road to gyantse, and an armed force, which included many of the fugitives from guru, gathered about kangma. the peace delegates always averred that we fired the first shot at guru. but even if we give the tibetans the benefit of the doubt, and admit that the action grew out of the natural excitement of two forces struggling for arms, both of whom were originally anxious to avoid a conflict, there is still no doubt that the responsibility of continuing the hostilities lies with the tibetans. on the morning of april ten scouts of the nd mounted infantry, under captain peterson, found the tibetans occupying the village of samando, seventeen miles beyond kalatso. as our men had orders not to fire or provoke an attack, they sent a messenger up to the walls to ask one of the tibetans to come out and parley. they said they would send for a man, and invited us to come nearer. when we had ridden up to within a hundred yards of the village, they opened a heavy fire on us with their matchlocks. our scouts spread out, rode back a few hundred yards, and took cover behind stones. not a man or pony was hit. before retiring, the mounted infantry fired a few volleys at the tibetans who were lining the roofs of two large houses and a wall that connected them, their heads only appearing above the low turf parapets. twice the tibetans sent off a mounted man for reinforcements, but our shooting was so good that each time the horse returned riderless. the next morning we found the village unoccupied, and discovered six dead left on the roofs, most of whom were wounded about the chest. our bullets had penetrated the two feet of turf and killed the man behind. putting aside the question of guru, the samando affair was the first overt act of hostility directed against the mission. after samando there was no longer any doubt that the tibetans intended to oppose our advance. on the th the mounted infantry discovered a wall built across the valley and up the hills just this side of kangma, which they reported as occupied by about , men. as it was too late to attack that night, we formed camp. the next morning we found the wall evacuated, and the villagers reported that the tibetans had retired to the gorge below. this habit of building formidable barriers across a valley, stretching from crest to crest of the flanking hills, is a well-known trait of tibetan warfare. the wall is often built in the night and abandoned the next morning. one would imagine that, after toiling all night to make a strong position, the tibetans would hold their wall if they intended to make a stand anywhere. but they do not grudge the labour. wall-building is an instinct with them. when a tibetan sees two stones by the roadside, he cannot resist placing one on the top of the other. so wherever one goes the whole countryside is studded with these monuments of wasted labour, erected to propitiate the genii of the place, or from mere force of habit to while away an idle hour. during the campaign of it was this practice of strengthening and abandoning positions more than anything else which gained the tibetans the reputation of cowardice, which they have since shown to be totally undeserved. on april , owing to the delay in reconnoitring the wall, we made only about eight miles, and camped. the next morning we had marched about two miles, when we found the high ridge on the left flank occupied by the enemy, and the mounted infantry reported them in the gorge beyond. two companies of the th gurkhas under major row were sent up to the hill on the left to turn the enemy's right flank, and the mountain battery (no. ) came into action on the right at over , yards. the enemy kept up a continuous but ineffectual fire from the ridge, none of their jingal bullets falling anywhere near us. the gurkhas had a very difficult climb. the hill was quite , feet above the valley; the lower and a good deal of the other slopes were of coarse sand mixed with shale, and the rest nothing but slippery rock. the summit of the hill was approached by a number of step-like shale terraces covered with snow. when only a short way up, a snowstorm came on and obscured the gurkhas from view. the cold was intense, and the troops in the valley began to collect the sparse brushwood, and made fires to keep themselves warm. on account of the nature of the hillside and the high altitude, the progress of the gurkhas was very slow, and it took them nearly three hours to reach the ridge held by the enemy. when about two-thirds of the way up, they came under fire from the ridge, but all the shots went high. the jingals carried well over them at about , yards. the enemy also sent a detachment to meet them on the top, but these did not fire long, and retired as the gurkhas advanced. when the th reached the summit, the tibetans were in full flight down the opposite slope, which was also snow-covered. thirty were shot down in the rout, and fifty-four who were hiding in the caves were made prisoners. in the meanwhile the battery had been making very good practice at , yards. seven men were found dead on the summit, and four wounded, evidently by their fire. but to return to the main action in the gorge. the tibetans held a very strong position among some loose boulders on the right, two miles beyond the gully which the gurkhas had ascended to make their flank attack. the rocks extended from the bluff cliff to the path which skirted the stream. no one could ask for better cover; it was most difficult to distinguish the drab-coated tibetans who lay concealed there. to attack this strong position general macdonald sent captain bethune with one company of the nd pioneers, placing lieutenant cook with his maxim on a mound at yards to cover bethune's advance. bethune led a frontal attack. the tibetans fired wildly until the sikhs were within eighty yards, and then fled up the valley. not a single man of the nd was hit during the attack, though one sepoy was wounded in the pursuit by a bullet in the hand from a man who lay concealed behind a rock within a few yards of him. while the nd were dislodging the tibetans from the path and the rocks above it, the mounted infantry galloped through them to reconnoitre ahead and cut off the fugitives in the valley. they also came through the enemy's fire at very close quarters without a casualty. on emerging from the gorge the mounted infantry discovered that the ridge the tibetans had held was shaped like the letter s, so that by doubling back along an almost parallel valley they were able to intercept the enemy whom the gurkhas had driven down the cliffs. the unfortunate tibetans were now hemmed in between two fires, and hardly a man of them escaped. the tibetan casualties, as returned at the time, were much exaggerated. the killed amounted to , and, on the principle that the proportion of wounded must be at least two to one, it was estimated that their losses were . but, as a matter of fact, the wounded could not have numbered more than two dozen. the prisoners taken by the gurkhas on the top of the ridge turned out to be impressed peasants, who had been compelled to fight us by the lamas. they were not soldiers by inclination or instinct, and i believe their greatest fear was that they might be released and driven on to fight us again. the action at the red idol gorge may be regarded as the end of the first phase of the tibetan opposition. we reached gyantse on april , and the fort was surrendered without resistance. nothing had occurred on the march up to disturb our estimate of the enemy. since the campaign of no one had given the tibetans any credit for martial instincts, and until the karo la action and the attack on gyantse they certainly displayed none. it would be hard to exaggerate the strategical difficulties of the country through which we had to pass. the progress of the mission and its escort under similar conditions would have been impossible on the north-west frontier or in any country inhabited by a people with the rudiments of sense or spirit. the difficulties of transport were so great that the escort had to be cut down to the finest possible figure. there were barely enough men for pickets, and many of the ordinary precautions of field manoeuvres were out of the question. but the tibetan failed to realize his opportunities. he avoided the narrow forest-clad ravines of sikkim and chumbi, and made his first stand on the open plateau at guru. fortunately for us, he never learnt what transport means to a civilized army. a bag of barley-meal, some weighty degchies, and a massive copper teapot slung over the saddle are all he needs; evening may produce a sheep or a yak. his movements are not hampered by supplies. if the importance of the transport question had ever entered his head, he would have avoided the tuna camp, with its maxims and mounted infantry, and made a dash upon the line of communications. a band of hardy mountaineers in their own country might very easily surprise and annihilate an ill-guarded convoy in a narrow valley thickly forested and flanked by steep hills. to furtively cut an artery in your enemy's arm and let out the blood is just as effective as to knock him on the head from in front. but in this first phase of the operations the tibetans showed no strategy; they were badly led, badly armed, and apparently devoid of all soldier-like qualities. only on one or two occasions they displayed a desperate and fatal courage, and this new aspect of their character was the first indication that we might have to revise the views we had formed sixteen years ago of an enemy who has seemed to us since a unique exception to the rule that a hardy mountain people are never deficient in courage and the instinct of self-defence. the most extraordinary aspect of the fighting up to our arrival at gyantse was that we had only one casualty from a gunshot wound--the sikh who was shot in the hand at the dzama tang affair by a tibetan whose jezail was almost touching him. yet at the hot springs the tibetans fired off their matchlocks and rifles into the thick of us, and at guru an hour afterwards the gurkhas walked right up to a house held by the enemy, under heavy fire, and took it without a casualty. the mounted infantry were exposed to a volley at samando at yards, and again in the red idol gorge they rode through the enemy's fire at an even shorter range. in the same action the nd made a frontal attack on a strong position which was held until they were within eighty yards, and not a man was hit. no wonder we had a contempt for the tibetan arms. their matchlocks, weapons of the rudest description, must have been as dangerous to their own marksmen as to the enemy; their artillery fire, to judge by our one experience of it at dzama tang, was harmless and erratic; and their modern lhasa-made rifles had not left a mark on our men. the tibetans' only chance seemed to be a rush at close quarters, but they had not proved themselves competent swordsmen. my own individual case was sufficient to show that they were bunglers. besides the twelve wounds i received at the hot springs, i found seven sword-cuts on my poshteen, none of which were driven home. during the whole campaign we had only one death from sword-wounds. arrived at gyantse, we settled down with some sense of security. a bazaar was held outside the camp. the people seemed friendly, and brought in large quantities of supplies. colonel younghusband, in a despatch to the foreign office, reported that with the surrender of gyantse fort on april resistance in that part of tibet was ended. a letter was received from the amban stating that he would certainly reach gyantse within the next three weeks, and that competent and trustworthy tibetan representatives would accompany him. the lhasa officials, it was said, were in a state of panic, and had begged the amban to visit the british camp and effect a settlement. on april general macdonald's staff, with the -pounder guns, three companies of the rd pioneers, and one and a half companies of the th gurkhas, returned to chumbi to relieve the strain on the transport and strengthen the line of communications. gyantse jong was evacuated, and we occupied a position in a group of houses, as we thought, well out of range of fire from the fort. everything was quiet until the end of april, when we heard that the tibetans were occupying a wall in some strength near the karo la, forty-two miles from gyantse, on the road to lhasa. colonel brander, of the nd pioneers, who was left in command at gyantse, sent a small party of mounted infantry and pioneers to reconnoitre the position. they discovered , of the enemy behind a strong loopholed wall stretching across the valley, a distance of nearly yards. as the party explored the ravine they had a narrow escape from a booby-trap, a formidable device of tibetan warfare, which was only employed against our troops on this occasion. an artificial avalanche of rocks and stones is so cunningly contrived that the removal of one stone sends the whole engine of destruction thundering down the hillside. luckily, the tibetans did not wait for our main body, but loosed the machine on an advance guard of mounted infantry, who were in extended order and able to take shelter behind rocks. on the return of the reconnaissance colonel brander decided to attack, as he considered the gathering threatened the safety of the mission. the karo pass is an important strategical position, lying as it does at the junction of the two roads to india, one of which leads to kangma, the other to gyantse. a strong force holding the pass might at any moment pour troops down the valley to kangma, cut us off in the rear, and destroy our line of communications. when colonel brander led his small force to take the pass, it was not with the object of clearing the road to lhasa. the measure was purely defensive: the action was undertaken to keep the road open for convoys and reinforcements, and to protect isolated posts on the line. the force with the mission was still an 'escort,' and so far its operations had been confined to dispersing the armed levies that blocked the road. on may colonel brander left gyantse with his column of rifles, comprising three companies of the nd pioneers, under captains bethune and cullen and lieutenant hodgson; one company of the th, under major row and lieutenant coleridge, with two -pounder guns; the maxim detachment of the norfolks, under lieutenant hadow; and forty-five of the st mounted infantry, under captain ottley. on the first day the column marched eighteen miles, and halted at gobshi. on the second day they reached ralung, eleven miles further, and on the third marched up the pass and encamped on an open spot about two miles from where the tibetans had built their wall. a reconnaissance that afternoon estimated the enemy at , , and they were holding the strongest position on the road to lhasa. they had built a wall the whole length of a narrow spur and up the hill on the other side of the stream, and in addition held detached sangars high up the steep hills, and well thrown forward. their flanks rested on very high and nearly precipitous rocks. it was only possible to climb the ridge on our right from a mile behind, and on the left from nearly three-quarters of a mile. colonel brander at first considered the practicability of delaying the attack on the main wall until the gurkhas had completed their flanking movements, cleared the tibetans out of the sangars that enfiladed our advance in the valley, and reached a position on the hills beyond the wall, whence they could fire into the enemy's rear. but the cliffs were so sheer that the ascent was deemed impracticable, and the next morning it was decided to make a frontal attack without waiting for the gurkhas to turn the flank. no one for a moment thought it could be done. the troops marched out of camp at ten o'clock. one company of the nd pioneers, under captain cullen, was detailed to attack on the right, and a second company, under captain bethune, to follow the river-bed, where they were under cover of the high bank until within yards of the wall, and then rush the centre of the position. the st mounted infantry, under captain ottley, were to follow this company along the valley. the guns, maxims, and one company of the nd in reserve, occupied a small plateau in the centre. half a company of the th gurkhas were left behind to guard the camp. a second half-company, under major row, were sent along the hillside on the left to attack the enemy's extreme right sangar, but their progress over the shifting shale slopes and jagged rocks was so slow that the front attack did not wait for them. the fire from the wall was very heavy, and the advance of cullen's and bethune's companies was checked. bethune sent half a company back, and signalled to the mounted infantry to retire. then, compelled by some fatal impulse, he changed his mind, and with half a company left the cover of the river-bed and rushed out into the open within forty yards of the main wall, exposed to a withering fire from three sides. his half-company held back, and bethune fell shot through the head with only four men by his side--a bugler, a store-office babu, and two devoted sikhs. what the clerk was doing there no one knows, but evidently the soldier in the man had smouldered in suppression among the office files and triumphed splendidly. it was a gallant reckless charge against uncounted odds. poor bethune had learnt to despise the tibetans' fire, and his contempt was not unnatural. on the march to gyantse the enemy might have been firing blank cartridges for all the effect they had left on our men. at dzama tang bethune had made a frontal attack on a strong position, and carried it without losing a man. against a similar rabble it might have been possible to rush the wall with his handful of sikhs, but these new kham levies who held the karo la were a very different type of soldier. the frontal attack was a terrible mistake, as was shown four hours afterwards, when the enemy were driven from their position without further loss to ourselves by a flanking movement on the right. at twelve o'clock major row, after a laborious climb, reached a point on a hillside level with the sangars, which were strongly held on a narrow ledge yards in front of him. here he sent up a section of his men under cover of projecting rocks to get above the sangars and fire down into them. in the meanwhile some of the enemy scrambled on to the rocks above, and began throwing down boulders at the gurkhas, but these either broke up or fell harmless on the shale slopes above. after waiting an hour, major row went back himself and found his section checked half-way by the stone-throwing and shots from above; they had tried another way, but found it impracticable. keeping a few men back to fire on any stone-throwers who showed themselves, row dribbled his men across the difficult place, and in half an hour reached the rocky ledge above the sangars and looked right down on the enemy. at the first few shots from the gurkhas they began to bolt, and, coming into the fire of the men below, who now rushed forward, nearly every man--forty in all--was killed. one or two who escaped the fire found their flight cut off by a precipice, and in an abandonment of terror hurled themselves down on the rocks below. after clearing the sangar, the gurkhas had only to surmount the natural difficulties of the rocky and steep hill; for though the enemy fired on them from the wall, their shooting was most erratic. when at last they reached a small spur that overlooked the tibetan main position, they found, to their disgust, that each man was protected from their fire by a high stone traverse, on the right-hand of which he lay secure, and fired through loopholes barely a foot from the ground. the gurkhas had accomplished a most difficult mountaineering feat under a heavy fire; they had turned the enemy out of their sangars, and after four hours' climbing they had scaled the heights everyone thought inaccessible. but their further progress was barred by a sheer cliff; they had reached a cul-de-sac. looking up from the valley, it appeared that the spot where they stood commanded the enemy's position, but we had not reckoned on the traverses. this amazing advance in the enemy's defensive tactics had rendered their position unassailable from the left, and made the gurkhas' flanking movement a splendid failure. it was now two o'clock, and, except for the capture of the enemy's right sangars, we had done nothing to weaken their opposition. the frontal and flanking attacks had failed. bethune was killed, and seventeen men. our guns had made no impression on their wall. looking down from the spur which overlooked the tibetan camp and the valley beyond, the gurkhas could see a large reinforcement of at least men coming up to join the enemy. the situation was critical. in four hours we had done nothing, and we knew that if we could not take the place by dusk we would have to abandon the attack or attempt to rush the camp at night. that would have been a desperate undertaking-- men against , , a rush at close quarters with the bayonet, in which the superiority of our modern rifles would be greatly discounted. matters were at this crisis, when we saw the tibetans running out of their extreme left sangars. at twelve o'clock, when the front attack had failed and the left attack was apparently making no progress, fifteen men of the nd who were held in reserve were sent up the hill on the right. they had reached a point above the enemy's left forward sangar, and were firing into it with great effect. twice the tibetans rushed out, and, coming under a heavy maxim fire, bolted back again. the third time they fled in a mass, and the maxims mowed down about thirty. the capture of the sangars was a signal for a general stampede. from the position they had won the sikhs could enfilade the main wall itself. the tibetans only waited a few shots; then they turned and fled in three huge bodies down the valley. thus the fifteen sikhs on the right saved the situation. the tension had been great. in no other action during the campaign, if we except palla, did the success of our arms stand so long in doubt. had we failed to take the wall by daylight, colonel brander's column would have been in a most precarious position. we could not afford to retire, and a night attack could only have been pushed home with heavy loss. directly the flight began, the st mounted infantry--forty-two men, under captain ottley--rode up to the wall. they were ten minutes making a breach. then they poured into the valley and harassed the flying masses, riding on their flanks and pursuing them for ten miles to within sight of the yamdok tso. it showed extraordinary courage on the part of this little band of masbis and gurkhas that they did not hesitate to hurl themselves on the flanks of this enormous body of men, like terriers on the heels of a flock of cattle, though they had had experience of their stubborn resistance the whole day long, and rode through the bodies of their fallen comrades. not a man drew rein. the tibetans were caught in a trap. the hills that sloped down to the valley afforded them little cover. their fate was only a question of time and ammunition. the mounted infantry returned at night with only three casualties, having killed over men. the sortie to the karo la was one of the most brilliant episodes of the campaign. we risked more then than on any other occasion. but the safety of the mission and many isolated posts on the line was imperilled by this large force at the cross-roads, which might have increased until it had doubled or trebled if we had not gone out to disperse it. a weak commander might have faltered and weighed the odds, but colonel brander saw that it was a moment to strike, and struck home. his action was criticised at the time as too adventurous. but the sortie is one of the many instances that our interests are best cared for by men who are beyond the telegraph-poles, and can act on their own initiative without reference to government offices in simla. as the column advanced to the karo la, a message was received that the mission camp at gyantse had been attacked in the early morning of the th, and that major murray's men-- odd rifles--had not only beaten the enemy off, but had made three sorties from different points and killed . with the action at the karo la and the attack on the mission at gyantse began the second phase of the operations, during which we were practically besieged in our own camp, and for nine weeks compelled to act on the defensive. the courage of the tibetans was now proved beyond a doubt. the new levies from kham and shigatze were composed of very different men from those we herded like sheep at guru. they were also better armed than our previous assailants, and many of them knew how to shoot. at the same time they were better led. the primitive ideas of strategy hitherto displayed by the tibetans gave place to more advanced tactics. the usual story got wind that the tibetans were being led by trained russian buriats. but there was no truth in it. the altered conditions of the campaign, as we may call it, after it became necessary to begin active operations, were due to the force of circumstances--the arrival of stouter levies from the east, the great numerical superiority of the enemy, and their strongly fortified positions. the operations at gyantse are fully dealt with in another chapter, and i will conclude this account of the opposition to our advance with a description of the attack on the kangma post, the only attempt on the part of the enemy to cut off our line of communications. its complete failure seems to have deterred the tibetans from subsequent ventures of the kind. from ralung, ten miles this side of the karo la, two roads branch off to india. the road leading to kangma is the shortest route; the other road makes a détour of thirty miles to include gyantse. ralung lies at the apex of the triangle, as shown in this rough diagram. gyantse and kangma form the two base angles. [illustration] if it had been possible, a strong post would have been left at the karo la after the action of may . but our small force was barely sufficient to garrison gyantse, and we had to leave the alternative approach to kangma unguarded. an attack was expected there; the post was strongly fortified, and garrisoned by two companies of the rd pioneers, under captain pearson. the attack, which was made on june , was unexpectedly dramatic. we have learnt that the tibetan has courage, but in other respects he is still an unknown quantity. in motive and action he is as mysterious and unaccountable as his paradoxical associations would lead us to imagine. in dealing with the tibetans one must expect the unexpected. they will try to achieve the impossible, and shut their eyes to the obvious. they have a genius for doing the wrong thing at the wrong time. their élan, their dogged courage, their undoubted heroism, their occasional acuteness, their more general imbecile folly and vacillation and inability to grasp a situation, make it impossible to say what they will do in any given circumstances. a few dozen men will hurl themselves against hopeless odds, and die to a man fighting desperately; a handful of impressed peasants will devote themselves to death in the defence of a village, like the old roman patriots. at other times they will forsake a strongly sangared position at the first shot, and thousands will prowl round a camp at night, shouting grotesquely, but too timid to make a determined attack on a vastly outnumbered enemy. the uncertainty of the enemy may be accounted for to some extent by the fact that we are not often opposed by the same levies, which would imply that theirs is greatly the courage of ignorance. yet in the face of the fighting at palla, naini, and gyantse jong, this is evidently no fair estimate of the tibetan spirit. the men who stood in the breach at gyantse in that hell of shrapnel and maxim and rifle fire, and dropped down stones on our gurkhas as they climbed the wall, met death knowingly, and were unterrified by the resources of modern science in war, the magic, the demons, the unseen, unimagined messengers of death. but the men who attacked the kangma post, what parallel in history have we for these? they came by night many miles over steep mountain cliffs and rocky ravines, perhaps silently, with determined purpose, weighing the odds; or, as i like to think, boastfully, with song and jest, saying, 'we will steal in upon these english at dawn before they wake, and slay them in their beds. then we will hold the fort, and kill all who come near.' they came in the gray before dawn, and hid in a gully beside our camp. at five the reveillé sounded and the sentry left the bastions. then they sprang up and rushed, sword in hand, their rifles slung behind their backs, to the wall. the whole attack was directed on the south-east front, an unscalable wall of solid masonry, with bastions at each corner four feet thick and ten feet high. they directed their attack on the bastions, the only point on that side they could scramble over. they knew nothing of the fort and its tracing. perhaps they had expected to find us encamped in tents on the open ground. but from the shallow nullah where they lay concealed, not yards distant, and watched our sentry, they could survey the uncompromising front which they had set themselves to attack with the naked sword. they had no artillery or guncotton or materials for a siege, but they hoped to scale the wall and annihilate the garrison that held it. they had come from lhasa to take kangma, and they were not going to turn back. they came on undismayed, like men flushed with victory. the sepoys said they must be drunk or drugged. they rushed to the bottom of the wall, tore out stones, and flung them up at our sepoys; they leapt up to seize the muzzles of our rifles, and scrambled to gain a foothold and lift themselves on to the parapet; they fell bullet-pierced, and some turned savagely on the wall again. it was only a question of time, of minutes, and the cool mechanical fire of the rd pioneers would have dropped every man. one hundred and six bodies were left under the wall, and sixty more were killed in the pursuit. never was there such a hopeless, helpless struggle, such desperate and ineffectual gallantry. almost before it was light the yak corps with their small escort of thirty rifles of the nd gurkhas were starting on the road to kalatso. they had passed the hiding-place of the tibetans without noticing the men in rusty-coloured cloaks breathing quietly among the brown stones. then the tibetans made their charge, just as the transport had passed, and a party of them made for the yaks. two tibetan drivers in our service stood directly in their path. 'who are you?' cried one of the enemy. 'only yak-drivers,' was the frightened answer. 'then, take that,' the tibetan said, slashing at his arm with no intent to kill. the gurkha escort took up a position behind a sangar and opened fire--all save one man, who stood by his yak and refused to come under cover, despite the shouts and warnings of his comrades. he killed several, but fell himself, hacked to pieces with swords. the tibetans were driven off, and joined the rout from the fort. the whole affair lasted less than ten minutes. our casualties were: the isolated gurkha killed, two men in the fort wounded by stones, and three of the nd gurkhas severely wounded--two by sword-cuts, one by a bullet in the neck. but what was the flame that smouldered in these men and lighted them to action? they might have been paladins or crusaders. but the buddhists are not fanatics. they do not stake eternity on a single existence. they have no mahdis or juggernaut cars. the tibetans, we are told, are not patriots. politicians say that they want us in their country, that they are priest-ridden, and hate and fear their lamas. what, then, drove them on? it was certainly not fear. no people on earth have shown a greater contempt for death. their lamas were with them until the final assault. twenty shaven polls were found hiding in the nullah down which the tibetans had crept in the dark, and were immediately despatched. what promises and cajoleries and threats the holy men used no one will ever know. but whatever the alternative, their simple followers preferred death. the second phase of the operations, in which we had to act on the defensive in gyantse, and the beginning of the third phase, which saw the arrival of reinforcements and the collapse of the tibetan opposition, are described by an eye-witness in the next two chapters. during the whole of these operations i was invalided in darjeeling, owing to a second operation which had to be performed on my amputation wound. chapter ix gyantse [by henry newman] gyantse plain lies at the intersection of four great valleys running almost at right angles to one another. in the north-eastern corner there emerge two gigantic ridges of sandstone. on one is built the jong, and on the other the monastery. the town fringes the base of the jong, and creeps into the hollow between the two ridges. the plain, about six miles by ten, is cultivated almost to the last inch, if we except a few stony patches here and there. there are, i believe, thirty-three villages in the plain. these are built in the midst of groves of poplar and willow. at one time, no doubt, the waters from the four valleys united to form a lake. now they have found an outlet, and flow peacefully down shigatze way. high up on the cold mountains one sees the cold bleached walls of the seven monasteries, some of them perched on almost inaccessible cliffs, whence they look sternly down on the warmth and prosperity below. for centuries the gyantse folk had lived self-contained and happy, practising their simple arts of agriculture, and but dimly aware of any world outside their own. then one day there marched into their midst a column of british troops--white-faced englishmen, dark, lithe gurkhas, great, solemn, bearded sikhs--and it was borne in upon the wondering gyantse men that beyond their frontiers there existed great nations--so great, indeed, that they ventured to dispute on equal terms with the awful personage who ruled from lhasa. it is true that from time to time there must have passed through gyantse rumours of war on the distant frontier. the armies that we defeated at guru and in the red idol gorge had camped at gyantse on their way to and fro. gyantse saw and wondered at the haste of lhasa despatch-riders. but i question whether any gyantse man realized that events, great and shattering in his world, were impending when the british column rounded the corner of naini valley. at first we were received without hostility, or even suspicion. the ruined jong, uninhabited save for a few droning lamas, was surrendered as soon as we asked for it. a clump of buildings in a large grove near the river was rented without demur--though at a price--to the commission. and when the country-people found that there was a sale for their produce, they flocked to the camp to sell. the entry of the british troops made no difference to the peace of gyantse till the lamas of lhasa embarked on the fatal policy of levying more troops in lhasa, shigatze, and far-away kham, and sending them down to fight. then there entered the peaceful valley all the horrors of war--dead and maimed men in the streets and houses, burning villages, death and destruction of all kinds. gyantse plain and the town became scenes of desolation. to the british army in india war, unfortunately, is nothing new, but one can imagine what an upheaval this business of which i am about to write meant to people who for generations had lived in peace. the incidents connected with the arrival of the mission with its escort at gyantse need not be described in detail. on the day of arrival we camped in the midst of some fallow fields about two miles from the jong. the same afternoon a chinese official, who called himself 'general' ma, came into camp with the news that the jong was unoccupied, and that the local tibetans did not propose to offer any resistance. the next morning we took quiet possession of the jong, placing two companies of pioneers in garrison. the general with a small escort visited the monastery behind the fort, and was received with friendliness by the venerable abbot. neither the villagers nor the towns-people showed any signs of resentment at our presence. the jongpen actively interested himself in the question of procuring an official residence for colonel younghusband and the members of the mission. there were reports of the dalai lama's representatives coming in haste to treat. altogether the outlook was so promising that nobody was surprised when, after a stay of a week, general macdonald, bearing in mind the difficulty of procuring supplies for the whole force, announced his intention of returning to chumbi with the larger portion of the escort, leaving a sufficient guard with the mission. the guard left behind consisted of four companies of the nd pioneers, under colonel brander; four companies of the th gurkhas, under major row; the st mounted infantry, under captain ottley; and the machine-gun section of the norfolks, under lieutenant hadow. mention should also be made of the two -pounder mountain-guns attached to the th gurkhas, under the command of captain luke. before the general left for chumbi he decided to evacuate the jong. the grounds on which this decision was come to were that the whole place was in a ruinous and dangerous condition, the surroundings were insanitary, there was only one building fit for human habitation, the water-supply was bad and deficient, and there seemed to be no prospect of further hostilities. besides, from the military point of view there was some risk in splitting up the small guard to be left behind between the jong and the mission post. however, the precaution was taken of further dismantling the jong. the gateways and such portions as seemed capable of lending themselves to defence were blown up. the house, or, rather, group of houses, rented by colonel younghusband for the mission was situated about yards from a well-made stone bridge over the river. a beautiful grove, mostly of willow, extended behind the post along the banks of the river to a distance of about yards. the jong lay about , yards to the right front. there were two houses in the intervening space, built amongst fields of iris and barley. small groups of trees were dotted here and there. altogether, the post was located in a spot as pleasant as one could hope to find in tibet. for some days before the general left, all the troops were engaged in putting the post in a state of defence. it was found that the force to be left behind could be easily located within the perimeter of a wall built round the group of houses. there was no room, however, for mules and their drivers, needed for convoy purposes. these were placed in a kind of hornwork thrown out to the right front. after the departure of the general we resigned ourselves to what we conceived would be a monotonous stay at gyantse of two or three months, pending the signing of the treaty. the people continued to be perfectly friendly. a market was established outside the post, to which practically the whole bazaar from gyantse town was removed. we were able to buy in the market, very cheap, the famous gyantse carpets, for which enormous prices are demanded at darjeeling and elsewhere in india. unarmed officers wandered freely about gyantse town, and the monks of palkhor choide, the monastery behind the fort, willingly conducted parties over the most sacred spots. they even readily sold some of the images before the altars, and the silk screens which shrouded the forms of the gigantic buddhas. i mention these facts about the carpets and images because, when hereafter they adorned simla and darjeeling drawing-rooms, unkind people began to say that british officers had wantonly looted palkhor choide, one of the most famous monasteries in tibet. a little shooting was to be had, and officers wandered about the plain, gun in hand, bringing home mountain-hare--a queer little beast with a blue rump--duck, and pigeon. occasionally an excursion up one of the side valleys would result in the shooting of a burhel or of a tibetan gazelle. the country-people met with were all perfectly friendly. another feature of those first few peaceful days at gyantse was the eagerness with which the tibetans availed themselves of the skilled medical attendance with the mission. at first only one or two men wounded at the red idol gorge were brought in, but the skill of captain walton, indian medical service, soon began to be noised abroad, and every morning the little outdoor dispensary was crowded with sufferers of all kinds. but during the last week in may reports began to reach colonel younghusband that, so far from attempting to enter into negociations, the lhasa government was levying an army in kham, and that already five or six hundred men were camped on the other side of the karo la, and were busily engaged in building a wall. lieutenant hodgson with a small force was sent to reconnoitre. he came back with the news that the wall was already built, stretching from one side of the valley to the other, and that there were several thousand well-armed men behind it. both colonel younghusband and colonel brander considered it highly necessary that this gathering should be immediately dispersed, for it is a principle in indian frontier warfare to strike quickly at any tribal assembly, in order to prevent it growing into dangerous proportions. the possibly exciting effect the force on the karo la might have on the inhabitants of gyantse had particularly to be considered. accordingly, on may colonel brander led the major portion of the gyantse garrison towards the karo la, leaving behind as a guard to the post two companies of gurkhas, a company of the nd pioneers, and a few mounted infantry, all under the command of major murray. i accompanied the karo la column, and must rely on hearsay as to my facts with regard to the attack on the mission. we heard about the attack the night before colonel brander drove the tibetans from their wall on the karo la, after a long fight which altered all our previous conceptions of the fighting qualities of the tibetans. the courage shown by the enemy naturally excited apprehension about the safety of the mission. colonel brander did not stay to rest his troops after their day of arduous fighting, but began his return march next morning, arriving at gyantse on the th. the column had been warned that it was likely to be fired on from the jong if it entered camp by the direct lhasa road. accordingly, we marched in by a circuitous route, moving in under cover of the grove previously mentioned. the maxims and guns came into action at the edge of the grove to cover the baggage. but, though numbers of tibetans were seen on the walls of the jong, not a shot was fired. we then learnt the story of the attack on the post. it appears that the day after colonel brander left for the karo la (may ) certain wounded and sick tibetans that we had been attending informed the mission that about , armed men had come down towards gyantse from shigatze, and were building a wall about twelve miles away. it was added that they might possibly attack the post if they got to know that the garrison had been largely depleted. this news seemed to be worth inquiring into, and, accordingly, next day major murray sent some mounted infantry to reconnoitre up the shigatze road. the latter returned with the information that they had gone up the valley some seven or eight miles, but had found no signs of any enemy. the very next morning the post was attacked at dawn. it appears that the shigatze force, about , strong, was really engaged in building a wall twelve miles away. hearing that very few troops were guarding the mission, its commander--who, i hear, was none other than khomba bombu, the very man who arrested sven hedin's dash to lhasa--determined to make a sudden attack on the post. he marched his men during the night, and about an hour before sunrise had them crouching behind trees and inside ditches all round the post. the attack was sudden and simultaneous. a gurkha sentry had just time to fire off his rifle before the tibetans rushed to our walls and had their muskets through our loopholes. the enemy did not for the moment attempt to scale, but contented themselves with firing into the post through the loopholes they had taken. this delay proved fatal to their plans, for it gave the small garrison time to rise and arm. the brunt of the tibetan fire was directed on the courtyard of the house where the tents of the members of the mission were pitched. major murray, who had rushed out of bed half clad, first directed his attention to this spot. the sikhs, emerging from their tents with bandolier and rifle, in extraordinary costumes, were directed towards the loopholes. some were sent on the roof of the mission-house, whence they could enfilade the attackers. elsewhere various junior officers had taken command. captain luke, who, owing to sickness, had not gone on with the karo la column, took charge of the gurkhas on the south and west fronts. lieutenant franklin, the medical officer of the th gurkhas, rallied gurkhas and pioneers to the loopholes on the east and north. lieutenant lynch, the treasure-chest officer, who had a guard of about twenty gurkhas, took his men to the main gate to the south. there were at this time in hospital about a dozen sikhs, who had been badly burnt in a lamentable gunpowder explosion a few days previously. these men, bandaged and crippled as they were, rose from their couches, made their painful way to the tops of the houses, and fired into the enemy below. about a dozen tibetans had just begun to scramble over the wall by the time the defenders had manned the whole position, which was now not only held by fighting men, but by various members of the mission, including colonel younghusband, who had emerged with revolvers and sporting guns. a few of the enemy got inside the defences, and were immediately shot down. our fire was so heavy and so well directed that it is supposed that not more than ten minutes elapsed from the time the first shot was fired to the time the enemy began to withdraw. the withdrawal, however, was only to the shelter of trees and ditches a few hundred yards away, whence a long but almost harmless fusillade was kept up on the post. after about twenty minutes of this firing, major murray determined on a rally. lieutenant lynch with his treasure guard dashed out from the south gate. some five-and-twenty tibetans were discovered hiding in a small refuse hut about fifteen yards from the gate. the furious gurkhas rushed in upon them and killed them all, and then dashed on through the long grove, clearing the enemy in front of them. returning along the banks of the river, the same party discovered another body of tibetans hiding under the arches of the bridge. twenty or thirty were shot down, and about fifteen made prisoners. similar success attended a rally from the north-east gate made by major murray and lieutenant franklin. the enemy fled howling from their hiding-places towards the town and jong as soon as they saw our men issue. they were pursued almost to the very walls of the fort. indeed, but for the fringe of houses and narrow streets at the base of the jong, major murray would have gone on. the tibetans, however, turned as soon as they reached the shelter of walls, and it would have been madness to attack five or six hundred determined men in a maze of alleys and passages with only a weak company. major murray accordingly made his way back to the post, picking up a dozen prisoners _en route_. in this affair our casualties only amounted to five wounded and two killed. one hundred and forty dead of the enemy were counted outside the camp. during the course of the day major murray sent a flag of truce to the jong with an intimation to the effect that the tibetans could come out and bury their dead without fear of molestation. the reply was that we could bury the dead ourselves without fear of molestation. as it was impossible to leave all the bodies in the vicinity of the camp, a heavy and disagreeable task was thrown on the garrison. towards sundown the enemy in the jong began to fire into the camp, and our troops became aware of the unpleasant fact that the tibetans possessed jingals, which could easily range from , to , yards. it was also realized that the jong entirely dominated the post; that our walls and stockades, protection enough against a direct assault from the plain, were no protection against bullets dropped from a height. so for the next four days, pending the return of the karo la column, the little garrison toiled unceasingly at improving the defences. traverses were built, the walls raised in height, the gates strengthened. it was discovered that the tibetan fire was heaviest when we attempted to return it by sniping at figures seen on the jong. accordingly, pending the completion of the traverses and other new protective works, major murray forbade any return fire. such was the position of affairs when the karo la column returned. one of colonel brander's first acts, after his weary troops had rested for an hour or two, was to turn the maxim on the groups who could be seen wandering about the jong. they quickly disappeared under cover, but only to man their jingals. then began the bombardment of the post, which we had to endure for nearly seven weeks. this is the place to speak of the bombardment generally, for it would be tedious to recapitulate in the form of a diary incidents which, however exciting at the time, now seem remarkable only for their monotony. it may be said at once that the bombardment was singularly ineffective. from first to last only fifteen men in the post were hit. of these twelve were either killed or died of the wound. of course, i exclude the casualties in the fighting, of which i will presently speak, outside the post. but the futility of the bombardment must not be entirely put down to bad marksmanship on the part of the tibetans. that our losses were not heavier is largely due to the fact that the garrison laboured daily--and at first at night also--in erecting protecting walls and traverses. practically every tent had a traverse built in front of it. it was found that the hornwork in which the mules were located came particularly under fire of the jong. this was pulled down one dark night, and the mules transferred to a fresh enclosure at the back of the post. strong parapets of sand-bags were built on the roofs of the houses. every window facing the jong was securely blocked with mud bricks. it will be realized how considerable was the labour involved in building the traverses when it is remembered that the jong looked down into the post. the majority of the walls had to be considerably higher than the tents themselves. they were mostly built of stakes cut from the grove, with two feet of earth rammed in between. after the first week or so the enemy brought to bear on the post several brass cannon, throwing balls weighing four or five pounds, and travelling with a velocity which enabled them to penetrate our traverses--when they struck them, for the majority of shots from the cannon whistled harmlessly over our heads. practically, we did not return the fire from the jong. all that was done in this direction was to place one of lieutenant hadow's maxims on the roof of the house occupied by the mission, and thence to snipe during the daylight hours at any warriors who showed themselves above the walls of the jong. hadow was very patient and persistent with his gun, and quickly made it clear to the tibetans that, if we were obliged to keep under cover, so were they. but our fire from the post was probably as ineffective as that of the enemy from the jong, for the tibetans build walls with extraordinary rapidity. working mostly at night in order to avoid the malignant maxim, the enemy within a few days almost altered the face of the jong. new walls, traverses, and covered ways seemed to spring up with the rapidity of mushrooms. our life during the siege, if so the bombardment can be called, was hardly as unpleasant as people might imagine. to begin with, we were never short of food--that is to say, of tibetan barley and meat. the commissariat stock of tea--a necessity in tibet--also never gave out. from time to time also convoys and parcel-posts with little luxuries came through. again, the longest period for which we were without a letter-post was eight days. socially, the relations of the officers with one another and with the members of the commission were most harmonious. i make a point of mentioning this fact, because all those who have had any experience of sieges, or of similar conditions where small communities are shut up together in circumstances of hardship and danger, know how apt the temper is to get on edge, how often small differences are likely to give rise to bitter animosities. but we had in the gyantse garrison men of such vast experience and geniality as colonel brander, of such high culture and attainment as colonel younghusband, captain o'connor, and mr. perceval landon--the correspondent of _the times_; men whose spirits never failed, and who found humour in everything, such as major row, captain luke, captain coleridge, lieutenant franklin. amongst the besieged was colonel waddell, i.m.s., an orientalist and sinologist of european fame. hence, in some of its aspects the gyantse siege was almost a delightful episode. in the later days, when all the outpost fighting occurred, our spirits were somewhat damped, for we had to mourn brave men killed and sympathize with others dangerously wounded. of course, one of the first questions for consideration when the karo la column returned to gyantse was whether the enemy could or could not be turned out of the jong. to make a frontal attack on the frowning face overlooking the post would have been foolhardy, but colonel brander decided to make a reconnaissance to a monastery on the high hills to our right, whence the jong itself could be overlooked. a subsidiary reason for visiting this monastery was that it was known to have afforded shelter to a number of those who had fled from the attack on the post. the hill was climbed with every military precaution, but only a few old monks were found in occupation of the buildings. more disappointing was the fact that an examination through telescopes of the rear of the jong showed that the tibetans had been also building indefatigably there. a strong loopholed wall ran zigzagging up the side of the rock. it was clear that nothing could be done till the general returned from chumbi with more troops and guns. for more than two weeks our rear remained absolutely open. the post, carried by mounted infantry, came in and went out regularly. two large convoys reached us unopposed. the only danger lay in the fact that people seen entering or leaving the post came under a heavy fire from the jong. to minimize risks, departures from the post were always made before dawn. during the two weeks streams of men could be seen entering the jong from both the shigatze and lhasa roads. emboldened by numbers, and also by our non-aggressive attitude, the enemy began to cast about for means of taking the post. one of the first steps taken by the tibetan general in pursuance of this policy was to occupy during the night a small house surrounded by trees, lying to our left front, almost midway between the jong and the post. on the morning of the th bullets from a new direction were whizzing in amongst us, and partly enfilading our traverses. this was not to be tolerated, and the same night arrangements were made for the capture of the position. five companies stole out during the hours of darkness and surrounded the house. the rush, delivered at dawn, was left to the gurkhas. but the entrance was found blocked with stones, and the enemy was thoroughly awake by the time the gurkhas were under the wall. luckily, the loopholes were not so constructed as to allow the tibetans to fire their jingals down upon our men, who had only to bear the brunt of showers of stones thrown upon them from the roof. the shower was well directed enough to bruise a good many gurkhas. three officers were struck-- major murray, lieutenant lynch, and lieutenant franklin, i.m.s. whilst the gurkhas were striving to effect an entrance, the pioneer companies deployed on the flanks came under a heavy fire from the jong. we had three men hit. one fell on a bit of very exposed ground, and was gallantly dragged under cover by colonel brander and captain minogue, staff officer. it was soon evident that the gurkhas would never get in without explosives. accordingly, lieutenant gurdon, nd pioneers, was sent to join them with a box of guncotton. gurdon speedily blew a hole through the wall, and the gurkhas dashed in yelling. the tibetans on the roof could easily at this time have jumped off and escaped towards the jong. but they chose a braver part. they slid down into the middle of the courtyard, and, drawing their swords, awaited the gurkha onset. i must not describe the pitiful struggle that followed. the tibetans--about fifty in number--herded themselves together as if to meet a bayonet charge, but our troops, rushing through the door, extended themselves along the edges of the courtyard, and emptied their magazines into the mob. within a minute all the fifty were either dead or mortally wounded. the house was hereafter held by a company of gurkhas all through the bombardment, and proved a great thorn in the side of the enemy; for the gurkhas often used to sally out at night and ambuscade parties of men and convoys on the shigatze road. chapter x gyantse--_continued_ [by henry newman] on the afternoon of the day on which the house was taken we were provided with a new excitement--continuous firing was heard to the rear of the post about a mile away. captain ottley galloped out with his mounted infantry, and was only just in time to save a party of his men who were coming up from kangma with the letter-bags. these sikhs--eight in number--were riding along the edge of the river, when they were met by a fusillade from a number of the enemy concealed amongst sedges on the opposite bank. before the sikhs could take cover, one man was killed, three wounded, and seven out of the eight horses shot down. the remaining men showed rare courage. they carried their wounded comrades under cover of a ditch, untied and brought to the same place the letter-bags, and then lay down and returned the fire of the enemy. the tibetans, however, were beginning to creep round, and the ammunition of the sikhs was running low, when captain ottley dashed up to the rescue. without waiting to consider how many of the enemy might be hiding in the sedge, ottley took his twenty men splashing through the river. nearly tibetans bolted out in all directions like rabbits from a cover. the mounted infantry, shooting and smiting, chased them to the very edge of the plain. on reaching hilly ground the enemy, who must have lost about fifty of their number, began to turn, having doubtless realized that they were running before a handful of men. at the same time shots were fired from villages, previously thought unoccupied, on ottley's left, and a body of matchlock men were seen running up to reinforce from a large village on the lhasa road. under these conditions it would have been madness to continue the fight, and ottley cleverly and skilfully withdrew without having lost a single man. in the meanwhile a company of pioneers had brought in the men wounded in the attack on the postal riders. this affair was even more significant than the occupation by the enemy of the position taken by the gurkhas in the early morning. it showed that the tibetan general had at last conceived a plan for cutting off our line of communications. this was a rude shock. it implied that the enemy had received reinforcements which were to be utilized for offensive warfare of the kind most to be feared by an invader. we knew that so long as our ammunition lasted there was absolutely no danger of the post being captured. but an enemy on the lines would certainly cause the greatest annoyance to, and might even cut off, our convoys. as it would be very difficult to get messages through, apprehensions as to our safety would be excited in the outer world. further, general macdonald's arrangements for the relief of the mission would have to be considerably modified if he were obliged to fight his way through to us. with the same prompt decision that marked his action with regard to the gathering on the karo la, colonel brander determined on the very next day to clear the villages found occupied by the mounted infantry. as far as could be discovered, the villages were five in number, all on the right bank of the river, and occupying a position which could be roughly outlined as an equilateral triangle. captain ottley was sent round to the rear of the villages to cut off the retreat of the enemy; captain luke took his two mountain-guns, under cover of the right bank of the river, to a position whence he could support the infantry attack, if necessary, by shell fire. two companies of pioneers with one in reserve were sent forward to the attack. the first objective was two villages forming the base of the triangle of which i have spoken. the troops advanced cautiously, widely extended, but both villages were found deserted. they were set on fire. then captain hodgson with a company went forward to the village forming the apex of the triangle. he came under a flanking fire from the villages on the left, and had one man severely wounded. the houses in front seemed to be unoccupied, and our right might have been swung round to face this fire; but colonel brander was determined to do the work thoroughly, and hodgson was directed to move on and burn the village ahead of him before changing front. the troops accordingly took no notice of the flanking fire, and moved on till they were under the walls of the two houses of which the village was composed. suddenly fire was opened on our soldiers from the upper windows of the two houses. all the doors were found blocked with bricks and stones. two sikhs dropped, and for the moment it seemed as if we would lose heavily. but lieutenant gurdon with half a dozen men rushed up with a box of explosives, and blew a breach in the wall. two of the party helping to lay the fuse were killed by shots fired from a loophole a few feet above. captain hodgson was the first man through the breach. he was confronted by a swordsman, who cut hard just as hodgson fired his revolver. the man fell dead, but hodgson received a severe wound on the wrist. but this was the only man who stood after the explosion. about thirty others in the village rushed to the roofs of the houses, jumped off, and fled to the left. they came, however, under a very heavy fire as they were running away, and the majority dropped. preparations were now made for taking the remaining village. this was protected by a high loopholed embankment, which sheltered about five or six hundred of the enemy. the pioneers had just extended, and were advancing, when someone who happened to be looking at the jong through his glasses suddenly uttered a loud exclamation. turning round, we all saw a dense stream of men, several thousands in number, forming up at the base of the rock, evidently with the intention of rushing the mission post whilst the majority of the garrison and the guns were engaged elsewhere. colonel brander immediately gave the order for the whole force to retire into the post at the double. the withdrawal was effected before the tibetans made their contemplated rush, but we all felt that it was rather a narrow shave. troops were to have gone out again the next day to clear the village we had left untaken, but the mounted infantry reconnoitring in the morning reported that the enemy had fled, and that the lines of communication were again clear. on the succeeding day a large convoy and reinforcements under major peterson, nd pioneers, came safely through. the additional troops included a section of no. (british) mountain battery, under captain easton; one and a half companies of sappers and miners, under captain shepherd and lieutenant garstin; and another company of the nd pioneers. major peterson reported that his convoy had come under a heavy fire from the village and monastery of naini. this monastery lies about seven miles from gyantse in an opening of the valley just before the road turns into gyantse plain. it holds about , monks. when the column first passed by it, the monks were extremely friendly, bringing out presents of butter and eggs, and readily selling flour and meat. the monastery is surrounded by a wall thirty feet high, and at least ten feet thick. the buildings inside are also solidly built of stone. altogether the position was a very difficult one to tackle, but colonel brander, following his usual policy, decided that the enemy must be turned out of it at all costs. accordingly, on the th a column, which included captain easton's two guns, marched out to naini. but the monastery and the group of buildings outside it were found absolutely deserted. the walls were far too heavy and strong to be destroyed by a small force, which had to return before nightfall, but captain shepherd blew up the four towers at the corners and a portion of the hall in which the buddhas were enthroned. the th provided a new excitement. about , yards to the right of the post stood what was known as the palla house, the residence of a tibetan nobleman of great wealth. the building consisted of a large double-storied house, surrounded by a series of smaller buildings, each within a courtyard of its own. during the night the tibetans in the jong built a covered way extending about half the distance between the jong and palla. in the morning the latter place was seen to be swarming with men, busily occupied in erecting defences, making loopholes, and generally engaged in work of a menacing character. the enemy could less be tolerated in palla than in the gurkha outpost, for fire from the former would have taken us absolutely in the flank, and the garrison was not strong enough to provide the labour necessary for building an entirely new series of traverses. that very night colonel brander detailed the troops that were to take palla by assault at dawn. the storming-party was composed of three companies of the nd under major peterson, assisted by the sappers and miners with explosives under captain shepherd. our four mountain-guns, the -pounders under captain luke, and the -pounders under captain easton, escorted by a company of gurkhas, were detailed to occupy a position on a ridge which overlooked palla. the troops fell in at two in the morning. the night was pitch-dark, but with such care were the operations conducted that the troops had made a long détour, and got into their respective positions before dawn, without an alarm being raised. daylight was just breaking when captain shepherd crept up to the wall of the house on the extreme left, where it was believed the majority of the enemy were located, and laid his explosives. a tremendous explosion followed, the whole side of the house falling in. a minute afterwards, and palla was alarmed and firing furiously all round, and even up in the air. the jong also awoke, and from that time till the village was finally ours poured a continuous storm of bullets into palla, regardless whether friend or foe was hit. our guns on the ridge did their best to quiet the jong, but without much effect. against tibetan walls, provided as they are with head cover, our experience showed shrapnel to be almost entirely useless. a company of pioneers followed captain shepherd into the breach he had made. but they found themselves only in a small courtyard, with no means of entering the rest of the village, except over or through high walls lined by the enemy. all that could be done was to blow in another breach. the preparations for doing this were attended with a good deal of danger. of three men who attempted to rush across the courtyard, two were killed and the third mortally wounded. however, by creeping along under cover of the wall, captain shepherd and lieutenant garstin were able to lay the guncotton and light the fuse for another explosion. they were fired at from a distance of a few yards, but escaped being hit by a miracle. but the second explosion only led into another courtyard, from which there was also no exit. there was the same fire to be faced from the next house whilst the needful preparations were being made for making a third breach. during the time shepherd with his gallant lieutenants and equally gallant sepoys was working his way in from the left, the companies of pioneers lining ditches and banks outside palla were exposed to a persistent fire from about a hundred of the enemy inside the big two-storied house mentioned above. the men in this house--all kham warriors--seemed to be filled with an extraordinary fury. many exposed themselves boldly at the windows, calling to our men to come on. a dozen or so even climbed to the roof of the house, and danced about thereon in what seemed frantic derision. there was a maxim on the ridge with the mountain-guns, the fire from which put an end to the fantastic display. our rifle fire, however, seemed totally unable to check the tibetan warriors in the loopholed windows. they kept up a fusillade which made a rush impossible. major peterson finally, with great daring, led a few men into the dwelling on the extreme right. the escalade was managed by means of a ruined tree which projected from the wall. but peterson, like shepherd, found himself in a courtyard with high walls which baffled further progress. the fight now began to drag. hours passed without any signal incident. the tibetans were greatly elated at the failure of our troops to make progress. they shouted and yelled, and were encouraged by answering cheers from the jong. then about mid-day the jong commandant conceived the idea of reinforcing palla. a dozen men mounted on black mules, followed by about fifty infantry, suddenly dashed out from the half-completed covered way mentioned above, and made for the village. this party was absolutely annihilated. as soon as it emerged from the covered way it came under the fire, not only of the troops round the village and on the hill, but of the maxim on the roof of the mission-house. in three minutes every single man and mule was down, except one animal with a broken leg, gazing disconsolately at the body of its master. this disaster evidently shook the tibetans in palla. their fire slackened. captain luke on the ridge was then directed to put some common shell into the roof of the double-storied house. he dropped the shells exactly where they were wanted, and so disconcerted the enemy that shepherd was able to resume his preparations for making a way into the tibetan stronghold. but he still had to face an awkward fire, and the three further breaches he made were attended by the loss of several men, including lieutenant garstin, shot through the head. but the last explosion led our troops into the big house. tibetan resistance then practically ceased. about twenty or thirty men made an attempt to get away to the jong, but the majority were shot down before they could reach the covered way. in this affair our total casualties were twenty-three. in addition to lieutenant garstin, we had seven men killed. the wounded included captain o'connor, r.a., secretary to the mission, and lieutenant mitchell, nd pioneers. the enemy must have lost quite in killed and wounded. the position at palla was too important to be abandoned, and for the rest of the bombardment it was held by a company of sikhs. in order to provide free communication both day and night, captain shepherd, with his usual energy, dug a covered way from the post to the village. the fight at palla was the last affair of any importance in which the garrison was engaged pending the arrival of the relieving force. the tibetans had received such a shock that in future they confined themselves practically to the defensive, if we except five half-hearted night attacks which were never anywhere near being pushed home. there were no more attempts to interrupt our lines of communication, though later on naini was again occupied as part of the tibetan scheme for resisting general macdonald's advance. the jong commandant devoted his energies chiefly to strengthening his already strong position. the night attacks were all very similar in character, and may be summed up and dismissed in a paragraph. generally about midnight, bands of tibetans would issue from the jong and take up their position about four or five hundred yards from the post. then they would shout wildly, and fire off their matchlocks and martini rifles. the troops would immediately rush to their loopholes, clad in impossible garments, and wait shivering in the cold, finger on trigger, for the rush that never came. after shouting and firing for about an hour, the tibetans would retire to the jong and our troops creep back to their beds. on no occasion did the enemy come close enough to be seen in the dark. we never fired a single shot from the post. twice, however, the gurkha outpost and the sikhs at palla were enabled to get in a few volleys at tibetans as they slunk past. during the night attacks the jong remained silent, except on one occasion, when there was so much firing from the gurkha outpost that the enemy thought we were about to make a counter-attack. every jingal, musket, and rifle in the jong was then loosed off in any and every direction. we even heard firing in the rear of the monastery. although no one was hit in this wild fire, the volume of it was ominously indicative of the strength in which the jong was held. but even more ominous against the day when our troops should be called upon to take the jong were the defensive preparations mentioned above. nearly every morning we found that during the night the enemy had built up a new wall or covered way somewhere on the jong or about the village that fringed the base of the rock. when the fortress was fortified as strongly as tibetan wit could devise, the jong commandant began to fortify and place in a position of defence the villages and monasteries on his right and left. it was calculated that, from the small monastery perched on the hills to his left to tsechen monastery on a ridge to his right, the tibetan general had occupied and fortified a position with nearly seven miles of front. whilst the tibetans were engaged in making these preparations, our garrison was busy collecting forage for the enormous number of animals coming up with the relief column. our rear being absolutely open, small parties with mules were able to collect quantities of hay from villages within a radius of seven miles behind us. it was the fire opened on these parties when they attempted to push to the right or left of the jong which first revealed to us the full extent of the defensive position occupied by the enemy. on june colonel younghusband left the post with a returning convoy, in order to confer with the general at chumbi. this convoy was attacked whilst halting at the entrenched post at kangma. the enemy in this instance came down from the karo la, and it is for this reason that i do not include the kangma attack amongst the operations at and around gyantse. it was not till june that we got definite news of the approaching advance of the relief column. reinforcements had come up to chumbi from india in the interval, and the general was accompanied by the nd mounted infantry under captain peterson, no. british mountain battery under major fuller, a section of no. native mountain battery under captain marindin, four companies of the royal fusiliers under colonel cooper, four companies of the th pathans under colonel burn, five companies of the rd pioneers under colonel hogge, and the two remaining companies of the th gurkhas under colonel kerr, together with the usual medical and other details. the force arrived at kangma on june . on the th a party of mounted infantry from gyantse met captain peterson's mounted infantry reconnoitring at the monastery of naini, previously mentioned. whilst greetings were being exchanged a sudden fire was opened on our men from the monastery, which the enemy had apparently occupied and fortified during the night. the position was apparently held in strength, and the mounted infantry had no other course except to retire to their respective camps. captain peterson had one man mortally wounded. on the evening of the th the sentries at the mission post saw about twenty mounted men, followed by two or three hundred infantry, issue from the rear of the jong and creep up the hills on our left in the direction of naini. it was evident that a determined effort was to be made at the monastery to check the advance of the relief column, which was expected at gyantse next day. colonel brander came to the conclusion that he had found an opportunity for catching the tibetans in a trap. he determined to send out a force which would block the retreat of the enemy when they retired before the advance of the relief column. accordingly, before dawn four companies of pioneers, four guns, and the maxim gun left the post, and ascended the hills overlooking the monastery. captain ottley's mounted infantry were directed to close the road leading directly from gyantse to the monastery. colonel brander's forces were in position some hours before the mounted infantry of the relief column appeared in sight. it was discovered that the enemy not only held the monastery, but some ruined towers on the hill above, and a cluster of one-storied dwellings in a grove below. captain peterson with his mounted infantry appeared in front of the monastery at eleven o'clock. he had with him a company of the th pathans, and his orders were to clear the monastery with this small force, if the enemy made no signs of a stubborn resistance. otherwise he was to await the arrival of more troops with the mountain-guns. peterson delivered his attack from the left, having dismounted his troopers, who, together with the th pathans, were soon very hotly engaged. the troops came under a heavy fire both from the monastery and from a ruined tower above it, but advanced most gallantly. when under the walls of the monastery, they were checked for some time by the difficulty of finding a way in. in the meanwhile, hearing the heavy firing, the general and his staff, followed by major fuller's battery and the rest of the th, had hastened up. the battery came into action against the tower, and the th rushed up in support of their comrades. colonel brander's guns and maxim on the top of the hill were also brought into play. for nearly an hour a furious cannonade and fusillade raged. then the pathans and peterson's troopers, circling round the walls of the monastery, found a ramp up which they could climb. they swarmed up, and were quickly inside the building. but the tibetans had realized that their retreat was cut off, and, instead of making a clean bolt for it, only retired slowly from room to room and passage to passage. two companies of the rd were sent up to assist in clearing the monastery. it proved a perfect warren of dark cells and rooms. the tibetan resistance lasted for over two hours. bands of desperate swordsmen were found in knots under trap-doors and behind sharp turnings. they would not surrender, and had to be killed by rifle shots fired at a distance of a few feet. while the monastery was being cleared, another fight had developed in the cluster of dwellings outside it to the right. from this spot tibetan riflemen were enfilading our troops held in reserve. the remaining companies of the rd were sent to clear away the enemy. they took three houses, but could not effect an entrance into the fourth, which was very strongly barricaded. lieutenant turnbull, walking up to a window with a section, had three men hit in a few seconds. one man fell directly under the window. turnbull carried him into safety in the most gallant fashion. then the general ordered up the guns, which fired into the house at a range of a few hundred yards. but not till it was riddled with great gaping holes made by common shell did the fire from the house cease. at about three o'clock the tibetan resistance had completely died away, and the column resumed its march towards gyantse, which was not reached till dark. but as the transport was making its slow way past naini, about half a dozen tibetans who had remained in hiding in the monastery and village opened fire on it. the gurkha rearguard had a troublesome task in clearing these men out, and lost one man killed. in this affair at naini our casualties were six killed and nine wounded, including major lye, rd pioneers, who received a severe sword-cut in the hand. the general's camp was pitched about a mile from the mission post, well out of range of the jong, though our troops whilst crossing the river came under fire from some of the bigger jingals. the next day was one of rest, which the troops badly needed after their long march from chumbi. the tibetans in the jong also refrained from firing. on the th the general began the operations intended to culminate in the capture of the jong. his objective was tsechen monastery, on the extreme left. but before the monastery could be attacked, some twelve fortified villages between it and the river had to be cleared. it proved a difficult task, not so much on account of the resistance offered by the enemy--for after a few idle shots the tibetans quickly retired on the monastery--as because of the nature of the ground that had to be traversed. the whole country was a network of deep irrigation channels and water-cuts, in the fording and crossing of which the troops got wet to the skin. however, by four in the afternoon all the villages had been cleared, and the fusiliers were lying in a long grove under the right front of the monastery. it was then discovered that not only was tsechen very strongly held, but that masses of the enemy were lying behind the rocks on the top of the ridge, on the summit of which there was a ruined tower, also held by fifty or sixty men. the general sent two companies of gurkhas to scale the ridge from the left, whilst the th pathans were ordered to make a direct assault on the monastery. a hundred mounted infantry made their way to the rear to cut off the retreat of the enemy. fuller and marindin with their guns covered the advance of the infantry. four maxims were also brought into action. our guns made splendid practice on the top of the ridge, and time and again we could see the enemy bolting from cover. but with magnificent bravery they would return to oppose the advance of the gurkhas creeping round their flank. the guns had presently to cease fire to enable the gurkhas to get nearer. a series of desperate little fights then took place on the top of the ridge, the tibetans slinging and throwing stones when they found they could not load their muskets quickly enough. but as the gurkhas would not be stopped, the tibetans had to move. in the meanwhile the pathans worked through the monastery below, only meeting with small resistance from a band of men in one house. the tibetans fled in a mass over the right edge of the ridge into the jaws of the mounted infantry lying in wait below. slaughter followed. it was now quite dark, and the troops made their way back to camp. next morning a party went up to tsechen, found it entirely deserted, and set fire to it. the taking of the monastery cost us the lives of captain craster, th pathans, and two sepoys. our wounded numbered ten, including captains bliss and humphreys, th gurkhas. on july the general intended assaulting the jong, but in the interval the jong commandant sent in a flag of truce. he prayed for an armistice pending the arrival of three delegates who were posting down from lhasa with instructions to make peace. as colonel younghusband had been directed to lose no opportunity of bringing affairs to an end at gyantse, the armistice was granted, and two days afterwards the delegates, all lamas, were received in open durbar in a large room in the mission post. colonel younghusband, after having satisfied himself that the delegates possessed proper credentials, made them a speech. he reviewed the history of the mission, pointing out that we had only come to gyantse because of the obstinacy and evasion of the tibetan officials, who could easily have treated with us at khamba jong and again at tuna, had they cared to. we were perfectly willing to come to terms here, and it rested with the peace delegates whether we went on to lhasa or not. younghusband then informed the delegates that he was prepared to open negociations on the next day. the delegates were due at eleven next morning, but they did not put in an appearance till three. they were then told that as a preliminary they must surrender the jong by noon on the succeeding day. they demurred a great deal, but the commissioner was quite firm, and they went away downcast, with the assurance that if the jong was not surrendered we should take it by force. younghusband, however, added that after the capture of the fort he was perfectly willing to open negociations again. next day, shortly after noon, a signal gun was fired to indicate that the armistice was at an end, and the general forthwith began his preparations to storm the formidable hill fortress. the tibetans had taken advantage of the armistice to build more walls and sangars. no one could look at the bristling jong without realizing how difficult was the task before our troops, and without anxiety as to the outcome of the assault in killed and wounded. but we all knew that the jong had to be taken, whatever the cost. operations began in the afternoon, the general making a demonstration against the left face of the jong and palkhor choide monastery. fuller's battery took up a position about , yards from the jong. five companies of infantry were extended on either flank. both the jong and monastery opened fire on our troops, and we had one man mortally wounded. the general's intention, however, was only to deceive the tibetans into thinking that we intended to assault from that side. as soon as dusk fell, the troops were withdrawn and preparations made for the real assault. the south-eastern face of the rock on which the jong is built is most precipitous, yet this was exactly the face which the general decided to storm. his reasons, i imagine, were that the fringe of houses at the base of the rock was thinnest on this side, and that the very multiplicity of sangars and walls that the enemy had built prevented their having the open field of fire necessary to stop a rush. moreover, down the middle of the rock ran a deep fissure or cleft, which was commanded, the general noticed, by no tower or loopholed wall. at two points, however, the tibetans had built walls across the fissure. the first of these the general believed could be breached by our artillery. our troops through that could work their way round to either flank, and so into the heart of the jong. the plan of operations was very simple. before dawn three columns were to rush the fringe of houses at the base. then was to follow a storm of artillery fire directed on all the salient points of the jong, after which our guns were to make a breach in the lower wall across the cleft up which the storming-party was later on to climb. the action turned out exactly as was planned, with the exception that the fighting lasted much longer than was expected, for the tibetans made a heroic resistance. the troops were astir shortly after midnight. the night was very dark, and the necessary deployment of the three columns took some hours. however, an hour before dawn the troops had begun their cautious advance, the general and his staff taking up their position at palla. the alarm was not given till our leading files were within twenty yards of the fringe of houses at the base of the rock. the storm of fire which then burst from the jong was an alarming indication of the strength in which it was held. the heavy jingals were all directed on palla, and the general and his staff had many narrow escapes. as on the previous occasion when the jong bombarded us at night, there were moments when every building in it seemed outlined in flame. of the three columns, only that on the extreme left, gurkhas under major murray, was able to get in at once. the other two columns were for the time being checked, so bullet-swept was the open space they had to cross. from time to time small parties of two or three dashed across in the dark, and gained the shelter of the walls of the houses in front. there were barely twenty men and half a dozen officers across when captain shepherd blew in the walls of the house most strongly held. the storming-party came under a most heavy fire from the jong above. among those hit was lieutenant gurdon, of the nd. he was shot through the head, and died almost immediately. the breach made by shepherd was the point to which most of the men of the centre and right columns made, but their progress became very slow when daylight appeared and the tibetans could see what they were firing at. it was not till nearly nine o'clock that the whole fringe of houses at the base of the front face of the rock was in our possession. then followed several hours of cannonading and small-arms fire. the position the troops had now won was commanded almost absolutely from the jong. it was found impossible to return the tibetan fire from the roofs of the houses we had occupied without exposing the troops in an unnecessary degree, but loopholes were hastily made in the walls of the rooms below, and the th pathans were sent into a garden on the extreme right, where some cover was to be had. colonel campbell, commanding the first line, was able to show the enemy that our marksmen were still in a position to pick off such tibetans as were rash enough to unduly expose themselves. in the meanwhile, luke's guns on the extreme right, fuller's battery at palla, and marindin's guns at the gurkha outpost threw a stream of shrapnel on all parts of the jong. but it was not till four o'clock in the afternoon that the general decided that the time had come to make the breach aforementioned. the reserve companies of gurkhas and fusiliers were sent across from palla in the face of very heavy jingal and rifle fire, and took cover in the houses we had occupied. in the meanwhile fuller was directed to make the breach. so magnificent was the shooting made by his guns that a dozen rounds of common shell, planted one below the other, had made a hole large enough for active men to clamber through. the enemy quickly saw the purport of the breach. dozens of men could be distinctly seen hurrying to the wall above it. then the gurkhas and fusiliers began their perilous ascent. the nimble gurkhas, led by lieutenant grant, soon outpaced the fusiliers, and in ten brief minutes forty or fifty of them were crouching under the breach. the tibetans, finding their fire could not stop us, tore great stones from the walls and rolled them down the cleft. dozens of men were hit and bruised. presently grant was through the breach, followed by fifteen or twenty flushed and shouting men. the breach won, the only thought of the enemy was flight. they made their way by the back of the jong into the monastery. by six o'clock every building in the great fortress was in our possession. our casualties in this affair were forty-three--lieutenant gurdon and seven men killed, and twelve officers, including the gallant grant, and twenty-three men wounded. these casualties exclude a number of men cut and bruised with stones. next morning the monastery was found deserted. it was reported that the bulk of the enemy had fled to dongtse, about ten miles up the shigatze road. a column was sent thither, but found the place empty, except for a very humble and submissive monk. on the th, having waited for over a week in the hope of the peace delegates putting in an appearance, the force started on its march to lhasa. chapter xi gossip on the road to the front ari, sikkim, _june ._ i write in an old forest rest-house on the borders of british bhutan. the place is quiet and pastoral; climbing roses overhang the roof and invade the bedrooms; martins have built their nests in the eaves; cuckoos are calling among the chestnuts down the hill. outside is a flower-garden, gay with geraniums and petunias and familiar english plants that have overrun their straggling borders and scattered themselves in the narrow plot of grass that fringes the forest. some government officer must have planted them years ago, and left them to fight it out with nature and the caretaker. the forest has encroached, and it is hard to say where nature's hand or art's begins and ends. beside a rose-bush there has sprung up the solid pink club of the wild ginger, and from a bed of amaryllis a giant arum raises itself four feet in its dappled, snake-like sheath. gardens have most charm in spots like this, where their mingled trimness and neglect contrast with the insolent unconcern of an encroaching forest. at ari i am fifty miles from darjeeling, on the road to lhasa. on june i set my face to lhasa for the second time. i took another route to chumbi, viâ kalimpong and pedong in british bhutan. the road is no further, but it compasses some arduous ascents. on the other hand it avoids the low, malarious valleys of sikkim, where the path is constantly carried away by slips. there is less chance of a block, and one is above the cholera zone. the jelap route, which i strike to-morrow, is closed, owing to cholera and land-slips, so that i shall not touch the line of communications until within a few miles of chumbi, in which time my wound will have had a week longer to heal before i risk a medical examination and the chance of being sent back. the relief column is due at gyantse in a few days; it depends on the length of the operations there whether i catch the advance to lhasa. through avoiding the nathu-la route to chumbi i had to arrange my own transport. in darjeeling my coolies bolted without putting a pack on their backs. more were secured; these disappeared in the night at kalimpong without waiting to be paid. pack-ponies were hired to replace them, but these are now in a state of collapse. arguing, and haggling, and hectoring, and blarneying, and persuading are wearisome at all times, but more especially in these close steamy valleys, where it is too much trouble to lift an eyelid, and the air induces an almost immoral state of lassitude, in which one is tempted to dole out silver indifferently to anyone who has it in his power to oil the wheels of life. i could fill a whole chapter with a jeremiad on transport, but it is enough to indicate, to those who go about in vehicles, that there are men on the road to tibet now who would beggar themselves and their families for generations for a macadamized highway and two hansom cabs to carry them and their belongings smoothly to lhasa. before i reached kalimpong i wished i had never left the 'radius.' no one should embark on asiatic travel who is not thoroughly out of harmony with civilization. the servant question is another difficulty. no native bearer wishes to join the field force. why should he? he has to cook and pack and do the work of three men; he has to make long, exhausting marches; he is exposed to hunger, cold, and fatigue; he may be under fire every day; and he knows that if he falls into the hands of the tibetans, like the unfortunate servants of captain parr at gyantse, he will be brutally murdered and cut up into mincemeat. in return for which he is fed and clothed, and earns ten rupees more a month than he would in the security of his own home. after several unsuccessful trials, i have found one jung bir, a nepali bearer, who is attached to me because i forget sometimes to ask for my bazaar account, and do not object to his being occasionally drunk. in tibet the poor fellow will have little chance of drinking. my first man lost his nerve altogether, and, when told to work, could only whine out that his father and mother were not with him. my next applicant was an opium-eater, prematurely bent and aged, with the dazed look of a toad that has been incarcerated for ages in a rock, and is at last restored to light and the world by the blow of a mason's hammer. he wanted money to buy more dreams, and for this he was willing to expose his poor old body to hardships that would have killed him in a month. jung bir was a gurkha and more martial. his first care on being engaged was to buy a long and heavy chopper--'for making mince,' he said; but i knew it was for the tibetans. to reach ari one has to descend twice, crossing the teesta at feet, and the russett chu at , feet. these valleys are hotter than the plains of india. the streams run east and west, and the cliffs on both sides catch the heat of the early morning sun and hold it all day. the closeness, the refraction from the rocks, and the evaporation of the water, make the atmosphere almost suffocating, and one feels the heat the more intensely by the change from the bracing air above. crossing the teesta, one enters british bhutan, a strip of land of less than square miles on the left bank of the river. it was ceded to us with other territories by the treaty of ; or, in plain words, it was annexed by us as a punishment for the outrage on sir ashley eden, the british envoy, who was captured and grossly insulted by the bhutanese at punakha in the previous year. the bhutanese were as arrogant, exclusive, and impossible to deal with, in those days, as the tibetans are to-day. yet they have been brought into line, and are now our friends. why should not the tibetans, who are of the same stock, yield themselves to enlightenment? their evolution would be no stranger. nine miles above the teesta bridge is kalimpong, the capital of british bhutan, and virtually the foreign mart for what trade passes out of tibet. the tomos of the chumbi valley, who have the monopoly of the carrying, do not go further south than this. at kalimpong i found a horse-dealer with a good selection of 'bhutia tats.' these excellent little beasts are now well known to be as strong and plucky a breed of mountain ponies as can be found anywhere. i discovered that their fame is not merely modern when i came across what must be the first reference to them in history in the narrative of master ralph fitch, england's pioneer to india. 'these northern merchants,' says fitch, speaking of the bhutia, 'report that in their countrie they haue very good horses, but they be litle.' the bhutias themselves, equally ubiquitous in the sikkim himalayas, but not equally indispensable, fitch describes to the letter. at kalimpong i found them dirty, lazy, good-natured, independent rascals, possessed, apparently, of wealth beyond their deserts, for hard work is as alien to their character as straight dealing. even the drovers will pay a coolie good wages to cut grass for them rather than walk a mile downhill to fetch it themselves. the main street of kalimpong is laid out in the correct boulevard style, with young trees protected by tubs and iron railings. it is dominated by the church of the scotch mission, whose steeple is a landmark for miles. the place seems to be overrun with the healthiest-looking english children i have seen anywhere, whose parents are given over to very practical good works. i took the bhutan route chiefly to avoid running the gauntlet of the medicals; but another inducement was the prospect of meeting father desgodins, a french roman catholic, vicar apostolic of the roman catholic mission to western tibet, who, after fifty years' intimacy with various mongol types, is probably better acquainted with the tibetans than any other living european. i met father desgodins at pedong. the rest-house here looks over the valley to his symmetrical french presbytery and chapel, perched on the hillside amid waving maize-fields, whose spring verdure is the greenest in the world. scattered over the fields are thatched lamas' houses and low-storied gompas, with overhanging eaves and praying-flags--'horses of the wind,' as the tibetans picturesquely call them, imagining that the prayers inscribed on them are carried to the good god, whoever he may be, who watches their particular fold and fends off intruding spirits as well as material invaders. behind the presbytery are terraced rice-fields, irrigated by perennial streams, and bordered by thick artemisia scrub, which in the hot sun, after rain, sends out an aromatic scent, never to be dissociated in travellers' dreams and reveries from these great southern slopes of the himalayas. père desgodins is an erect old gentleman with quiet, steely gray eyes and a tawny beard now turning gray. he is known to few englishmen, but his adventurous travels in tibet and his devoted, strenuous life are known throughout europe. he was sent out from france to the tibet mission shortly after the murder of krick and bourry by the mishmis. failing to enter tibet from the south through sikkim, he made preparations for an entry by ladak. his journey was arrested by the indian mutiny, when he was one of the besieged at agra. he afterwards penetrated western tibet as far as khanam, but was recalled to the chinese side, where he spent twenty-two perilous and adventurous years in the establishment of the mission at batang and bonga. the mission was burnt down and the settlement expelled by the lamas. in father desgodins was sent to pedong, his present post, as pro-vicar of the mission to western tibet. with regard to the present situation in tibet, father desgodins expressed astonishment at our policy of folded arms. 'you have missed the occasion,' he said; 'you should have made your treaty with the tibetans themselves in . you could have forced them to treat then, when they were unprepared for a military invasion. you should have said to them'--here père desgodins took out his watch--'"it is now one o'clock. sign that treaty by five, or we advance to-morrow." what could they have done? now you are too late. they have been preparing for this for the last fifteen years.' father desgodins was right. it is the old story of ill-advised conciliation and forbearance. we were afraid of the bugbear of china. the british government says to her victim after the chastisement: 'you've had your lesson. now run off and be good.' and the spoilt child of arrested civilization runs off with his tongue in his cheek and learns to make new arms and friends. the british government in the meantime sleeps in smug complacency, and exeter hall is appeased. 'but why did you not treat with the tibetans themselves?' père desgodins asked. 'china!'--here he made an expressive gesture--'i have known china for fifty years. she is not your friend.' of course it is to the interest of china to keep the tea monopoly, and to close the market to british india. travellers on the chinese borders are given passports and promises of assistance, but the natives of the districts they traverse are ordered to turn them back and place every obstacle in their way. nobody knows this better than father desgodins. china's policy is the same with nations as with individuals. she will always profess willingness to help, but protest that her subjects are unmanageable and out of hand. why, then, deal with china at all? we can only answer that she had more authority in lhasa in . moreover, we were more afraid of offending her susceptibilities. but that bubble has burst. others who hold different views from père desgodins say that this very unruliness of her vassal ought to make china welcome our intervention in tibet, if we engage to respect her claims there when we have subdued the lamas. this policy might certainly point a temporary way out of the muddle, whereby we could save our face and be rid of the tibet incubus for perhaps a year. but the plan of leaving things to the suzerain power has been tried too often. as i rode down the pedong street from the presbytery someone called me by name, and a little, smiling, gnome-like man stepped out of a whitewashed office. it was phuntshog, a tibetan friend whom i had known six years previously on the north-east frontier. i dismounted, expecting entertainment. the office was bare of furniture save a new writing-table and two chairs, but heaped round the walls were piles of cast steel and iron plates and files and pipes for bellows. phuntshog explained that he was frontier trade examiner, and that the steel had been purchased in calcutta by a lama last year, and was confiscated on the frontier as contraband. it was material for an armoury. the spoilt child was making new arms, like the schoolboy who exercises his muscle to avenge himself after a beating. 'do you get much of this sort of thing?' i asked. 'not now,' he said; 'they have given up trying to get it through this way.' a few years ago eight mohammedans, experts in rifle manufacture, had been decoyed from a calcutta factory to lhasa. two had died there, and one i traced at yatung. his wife had not been allowed to pass the barrier, but he was given a tibetan helpmate. the wife lived some months at yatung, and used to receive large instalments from her husband; once, i was told, as much as rs. , . but he never came back. the tibetans have learned to make rifles for themselves now. phuntshog had a story about another suspicious character, a mysterious lama who arrived in darjeeling in from calcutta with , alms bowls for tibet, which he said he had purchased in germany. the man was detained in darjeeling five months under police espionage, and finally sent back to calcutta. our intelligence department on this frontier is more alert than it used to be. dorjieff, phuntshog told me, had been to darjeeling twice, and stayed in a trader's house at kalimpong several days. he wore the dress of a lama. the ostensible object of his journey was to visit the sacred chorten at khatmandu and the shrines of benares. he visited these, and was known to spend some time in calcutta. on the occasion of the mission to st. petersburg dorjieff and his colleagues entered india through nepal, took train to bombay, and shipped thence to odessa. the discovery of the lamas' visit to india was almost simultaneous with their departure from bombay. phuntshog is not an admirer of our tibetan policy. we ought to have laid ourselves out, he said, to influence the lamas by secret agents, as russia did. there was no chance of a compromise now; they would fight to the death. phuntshog said much more which i suspected was inspired by the daily newspapers, so i questioned him as to the feelings of the natives of the district. 'the feeling of patriotism is extinct,' he said; and he looked at his stomach, showing that he spoke the truth. 'we tibetan british subjects are fed well and paid well by your government. we want nothing more. my family are here. now i have no trade to examine.' his eyes slowly surveyed the room, glanced over his office table, with its pen and ink and blank paper, lit on the maunds of cast-steel, and finally rested on two volumes by his elbow. 'do you read much?' i asked. 'sometimes,' he said. 'i have learnt a good deal from these books.' they were the holy bible and miss braddon's 'dead men's shoes.' 'phuntshog,' i said, 'you are a psychological enigma. your mind is like that cast-iron huddled in the corner there, bought in an enlightened western city and destined for your benighted lhasa, but stuck halfway. only it was going the other way. you don't understand? neither do i.' and here at ari, as i look across the valley of the russett chu to pedong, and hear the vesper bell, i cannot help thinking of that strange conflict of minds--the devotee who, seeing further than most men, has cared nothing for the things of this incarnation, and phuntshog, the strange hybrid product of restless western energies, stirring and muddying the shallows of the eastern mind. or are they depths? who knows? i know nothing, only that these men are inscrutable, and one cannot see into their hearts. chapter xii to the great river i reached gyantse on july . the advance to lhasa began on the th. as might be expected from the tone of the delegates, peace negociations fell through. the lhasa government seemed to be chaotic and conveniently inaccessible. the dalai lama remained a great impersonality, and the four shapés or councillors disclaimed all responsibility. the tsong-du, or national assembly, who virtually governed the country, had sent us no communication. the delegates' attitude of _non possumus_ was not assumed. though these men were the highest officials in tibet, they could not guarantee that any settlement they might make with us would be faithfully observed. there seemed no hope of a solution to the deadlock except by absolute militarism. if the tibetans had fought so stubbornly at gyantse, what fanaticism might we not expect at lhasa! most of us thought that we could only reach the capital through the most awful carnage. we pictured the , monks of lhasa hurling themselves defiantly on our camp. we saw them mown down by maxims, lanes of dead. a hopeless struggle, and an ugly page in military history. still, we must go on; there was no help for it. the blood of these people was on their own heads. we left gyantse on the th, and plunged into the unknown towards lhasa, which we had reason to believe lay in some hidden valley miles to the north, beyond the unexplored basin of the tsangpo. every position on the road was held. the karo la had been enormously strengthened, and was occupied by , men. the enemy's cavalry, which we had never seen, were at nagartse jong. gubshi, a dilapidated fort, only nineteen miles on the road, was held by several hundred. the tibetans intended to dispute the passage of the brahmaputra, and there were other strong positions where the path skirted the kyi-chu for miles beneath overhanging rocks, which were carefully prepared for booby-traps. we had to launch ourselves into this intensely hostile region and compel some people--we did not know whom--to attach their signatures and seals to a certain parchment which was to bind them to good behaviour in the future, and a recognition of obligations they had hitherto disavowed. our force consisted of eight companies of the th gurkhas, five companies of the nd pioneers, four companies of the th pathans, four companies of the royal fusiliers, two companies of mounted infantry, no. british mountain battery, a section of no. native mountain battery, st madras sappers and miners, machine-gun section of the norfolks, and details.[ ] the rd pioneers, to their disgust, were left to garrison gyantse. the transport included mule, yak, donkey, and coolie corps. [ ] companies of pathans and gurkhas were left to garrison ralung, nagartse, pehte, chaksam, and toilung bridge. the first three marches to ralung were a repetition of the country between kalatso and gyantse--in the valley a strip of irrigated land, green and gold, with alternate barley and mustard fields between hillsides bare and verdureless save for tufts of larkspur, astragalus, and scattered yellow poppies. to gyantse one descends , feet from a country entirely barren of trees to a valley of occasional willow and poplar groves; while from gyantse, as one ascends, the clusters of trees become fewer, until one reaches the treeless zone again at ralung ( , feet). the last grove is at gubchi. i quote some notes of the march from my diary: '_july ._--the villages by the roadside are deserted save for old women and barking dogs. the tibetans came down from the karo la and impressed the villagers. many have fled into the hills, and are hiding among the rocks and caves. our pickets fired on some to-night. seeing their heads bobbing up and down among the rocks, they thought they were surrounded. many of the fugitives were women. luckily, none were hit. they were brought into camp whimpering and salaaming, and became embarrassingly grateful when it was made clear to them that they were not to be tortured or killed, but set free. they were called back, however, to give information about grain, and thought their last hour had come.' '_july ._--all the houses between gubchi and ralung are decorated with diagonal blue, red, and white stripes, characteristic of the ning-ma sect of buddhists. they remind me of the walls of damascus after the visit of the german emperor. heavy rain falls every day. last night we camped in a wet mustard-field. it is impossible to keep our bedding dry.' from ralung the valley widens out, and the country becomes more bleak. we enter a plateau frequented by gazelle. cultivation ceases. the ascent to the karo pass is very gradual. the path takes a sudden turn to the east through a narrow gorge. on the th we camped under the karo la in the snow range of noijin kang sang, at an elevation of , feet above mont blanc. the pass was free of snow, but a magnificent glacier descended within feet of the camp. we lay within four miles of the enemy's position. most of us expected heavy fighting the next morning, as we knew the tibetans had been strengthening their defences at the karo la for some days. volleys were fired on our scouts on the th and th. the old wall had been extended east and west until it ended in vertical cliffs just beneath the snow-line. a second barrier had been built further on, and sangars constructed on every prominent point to meet flank attacks. the wall itself was massively strong, and it was approached by a steep cliff, up which it was impossible to make a sustained charge, as the rarefied air at this elevation ( , feet) leaves one breathless after the slightest exertion. the karo la was the strongest position on the road to lhasa. if the tibetans intended to make another stand, here was their chance. in the messes there was much discussion as to the seriousness of the opposition we were likely to meet with. the flanking parties had a long and difficult climb before them that would take them some hours, and the general feeling was that we should be lucky if we got the transport through by noon. but when one of us suggested that the tibetans might fail to come up to the scratch, and abandon the position without firing a shot, we laughed at him; but his conjecture was very near the mark. at a.m. the troops forming the line of advance moved into position. the disposition of the enemy's sangars made a turning movement extremely difficult, but a frontal attack on the wall, if stubbornly resisted, could not be carried without severe loss. general macdonald sent flanking parties of the th gurkhas on both sides of the valley to scale the heights and turn the tibetan position, and despatched the royal fusiliers along the centre of the valley to attack the wall when the opposition had been weakened. stretched on a grassy knoll on the left, enjoying the sunshine and the smell of the warm turf, we civilians watched the whole affair with our glasses. it might have been a picnic on the surrey downs if it were not for the tap-tap of the maxim, like a distant woodpecker, in the valley, and the occasional report of the -pounders by our side, which made the valleys and cliffs reverberate like thunder. the tibetans' ruse was to open fire from the wall directly our troops came into view, and then evacuate the position. they thus delayed the pursuit while we were waiting for the scaling-party to ascend the heights. at nine o'clock the gurkhas on the left signalled that no enemy were to be seen. at the same time colonel cooper, of the royal fusiliers, heliographed that the wall was unoccupied and the tibetans in full retreat. the mounted infantry were at once called up for the pursuit. meanwhile one or two jingals and some tibetan marksmen kept up an intermittent fire on the right flanking party from clefts in the overhanging cliffs. a battery replied with shrapnel, covering our advance. these pickets on the left stayed behind and engaged our right flanking party until eleven o'clock. to turn the position the gurkhas climbed a parallel ridge, and were for a long time under fire of their jingals. the last part of the ascent was along the edge of a glacier, and then on to the shoulder of the ridge by steps which the gurkhas cut in the ice with their _kukris_, helping one another up with the butts of their rifles. they carried rope scaling-ladders, but these were for the descent. at . major murray and his two companies of gurkhas appeared on the heights, and possession was taken of the pass. the ridge that the tibetans had held was apparently deserted, but every now and then a man was seen crouching in a cave or behind a rock, and was shot down. one kham man shot a gurkha who was looking into the cave where he was hiding. he then ran out and held up his thumbs, expecting quarter. he was rightly cut down with _kukris_. the dying gurkha's comrades rushed the cave, and drove six more over the precipice without using steel or powder. they fell sheer feet. another gurkha cut off a tibetan's head with his own sword. on several occasions they hesitated to soil their _kukris_ when they could despatch their victims in any other way. [illustration: karo la] on a further ridge, a heart-breaking ascent of shale and boulders, we saw two or three hundred tibetans ascending into the clouds. we had marked them at the beginning of the action, before we knew that the wall was unoccupied. even then it was clear that the men were fugitives, and had no thought of holding the place. we could see them hours afterwards, with our glasses, crouching under the cliffs. we turned shrapnel and maxims on them; the hillsides began to move. then a company of pathans was sent up, and despatched over forty. it was at this point i saw an act of heroism which quite changed my estimate of these men. a group of four were running up a cliff, under fire from the pathans at a distance of about yards. one was hit, and his comrade stayed behind to carry him. the two unimpeded tibetans made their escape, but the rescuer could only shamble along with difficulty. he and his wounded comrade were both shot down. the th was a disappointing day to our soldiers. but the action was of great interest, owing to the altitude in which our flanking parties had to operate. there is a saying on the indian frontier: 'there is a hill; send up a gurkha.' these sturdy little men are splendid mountaineers, and will climb up the face of a rock while the enemy are rolling down stones on them as coolly as they will rush a wall under heavy fire on the flat. their arduous climb took three and a half hours, and was a real mountaineering feat. the cave fighting, in which they had three casualties, took place at , feet, and this is probably the highest elevation at which an action has been fought in history. a few of the tibetans fled by the highroad, along which the mounted infantry pursued, killing twenty and taking ten prisoners. i asked a native officer how he decided whom to spare or kill, and he said he killed the men who ran, and spared those who came towards him. the destiny that preserved the lives of our ten kham prisoners when nearly the whole of the levy perished reminded me in its capriciousness of caliban's whim in setebos: 'let twenty pass, and stone the twenty-first, loving not, hating not, just choosing so.' these kham men were in our mounted infantry camp until the release of the prisoners in lhasa, and made themselves useful in many ways--loading mules, carrying us over streams, fetching wood and water, and fodder for our horses. they were fed and cared for, and probably never fared better in their lives. when they had nothing to do, they would sit down in a circle and discuss things resignedly--the english, no doubt, and their ways, and their own distant country. sometimes they would ask to go home; their mothers and wives did not know if they were alive or dead. but we had no guarantee that they would not fight us again. now they knew the disparity of their arms they might shrink from further resistance, yet there was every chance that the lamas would compel them to fight. they became quite popular in the camp, these wild, long-haired men, they were so good-humoured, gentle in manner, and ready to help. i was sorry for these tibetans. their struggle was so hopeless. they were brave and simple, and none of us bore the slightest vindictiveness against them. here was all the brutality of war, and none of the glory and incentive. these men were of the same race as the people i had been living amongst at darjeeling--cheerful, jolly fellows--and i had seen their crops ruined, their houses burnt and shelled, the dead lying about the thresholds of what were their homes, and all for no fault of their own--only because their leaders were politically impossible, which, of course, the poor fellows did not know, and there was no one to tell them. they thought our advance an act of unprovoked aggression, and they were fighting for their homes. fortunately, however, this slaughter was beginning to put the fear of god into them. we never saw a tibetan within five miles who did not carry a huge white flag. the second action at the karo la was the end of the tibetan resistance. the fall of gyantse jong, which they thought unassailable, seems to have broken their spirit altogether. at the karo la they had evidently no serious intention of holding the position, but fought like men driven to the front against their will, with no confidence or heart in the business at all. the friendly bhutanese told us that the tibetans would not stand where they had once been defeated, and that levies who had once faced us were not easily brought into the field again. these were casual generalizations, no doubt, but they contained a great deal of truth. the kham men who opposed us at the first karo la action, the shigatze men who attacked the mission in may, and the force from lhasa who hurled themselves on kangma, were all new levies. many of our prisoners protested very strongly against being released, fearing to be exposed again to our bullets and their own lamas. on the th we reached nagartse jong, and found the shapés awaiting us. they met us in the same impracticable spirit. we were not to occupy the jong, and they were not empowered to treat with us unless we returned to gyantse. it was a repetition of khamba jong and tuna. in the afternoon a durbar was held in colonel younghusband's tent, when the tibetans showed themselves appallingly futile and childish. they did not seem to realize that we were in a position to dictate terms, and colonel younghusband had to repeat that it was now too late for any compromise, and the settlement must be completed at lhasa. from nagartse we held interviews with these tedious delegates at almost every camp. they exhausted everyone's patience except the commissioner's. for days they did not yield a point, and refused even to discuss terms unless we returned to gyantse. but their protests became more urgent as we went on, their tone less minatory. it was not until we were within fifty miles of lhasa that the tibetan government deigned to enter into communication with the mission. at tamalung colonel younghusband received the first communication from the national assembly; at chaksam arrived the first missive the british government had ever received from the dalai lama. during the delay at the ferry the councillors practically threw themselves on colonel younghusband's mercy. they said that their lives would be forfeited if we proceeded, and dwelt on the severe punishment they might incur if they failed to conclude negociations satisfactorily. but colonel younghusband was equal to every emergency. it would be impossible to find another man in the british empire with a personality so calculated to impress the tibetans. he sat through every durbar a monument of patience and inflexibility, impassive as one of their own buddhas. priests and councillors found that appeals to his mercy were hopeless. he, too, had orders from his king to go to lhasa; if he faltered, _his_ life also was at stake; decapitation would await _him_ on his return. that was the impression he purposely gave them. it curtailed palaver. how in the name of all their buddhas were they to stop such a man? the whole progress of negociations put me in mind of the coercion of very naughty children. the lamas tried every guile to reduce his demands. they would be cajoling him now if he had not given them an ultimatum, and if they had not learnt by six weeks' contact and intercourse with the man that shuffling was hopeless, that he never made a promise that was not fulfilled, or a threat that was not executed. the tibetan treaty was the victory of a personality, the triumph of an impression on the least impressionable people in the world. but i anticipate. while the shapés were holding colonel younghusband in conference at nagartse, their cavalry were escorting a large convoy on the road to lhasa. our mounted infantry came upon them six miles beyond nagartse, and as they were rounding them up the tibetans foolishly fired on them. we captured eighty riding and baggage ponies and mules and fourteen prisoners, and killed several. they made no stand, though they were well armed with a medley of modern rifles and well mounted. this was actually the last shot fired on our side. the delegates had been full of assurances that the country was clear of the enemy, hoping that the convoy would get well away while they delayed us with fruitless protests and reiterated demands to go back. while they were palavering in the tent, they looked out and saw the pathans go past with their rich yellow silks and personal baggage looted in the brush with the cavalry. their consternation was amusing, and the situation had its element of humour. a servant rushed to the door of the tent and delivered the whole tale of woe. a mounted infantry officer arrived and explained that our scouts had been fired on. after this, of course, there was no talk of anything except the restitution of the loot. the shapés deserved to lose their kit. i do not remember what was arranged, but if any readers of this record see a gorgeous yellow cloak of silk and brocade at a fancy-dress ball in london, i advise them to ask its history. this last encounter with the tibetans is especially interesting, as they were the best-armed body of men we had met. the weapons we captured included a winchester rifle, several lhasa-made martinis, a bolt rifle of an old austrian pattern, an english-made muzzle-loading rifle, a -bore breech-loading shot-gun, some eley's ammunition, and an english gun-case. the reports of russian arms found in tibet have been very much exaggerated. during the whole campaign we did not come across more than thirty russian government rifles, and these were weapons that must have drifted into tibet from mongolia, just as rifles of british pattern found their way over the indian frontier into lhasa. also it must be remembered that the weapons locally made in lhasa were of british pattern, and manufactured by experts decoyed from a british factory. had these men been russian subjects, we should have regarded their presence in lhasa as an unquestionable proof of muscovite assistance. jealousy and suspicion make nations wilfully blind. russia fully believes that we are giving underhand assistance to the japanese, and many englishmen, who are unbiassed in other questions, are ready to believe, without the slightest proof, that russia has been supplying tibet with arms and generals. we had been informed that large quantities of russian rifles had been introduced into the country, and it was rumoured that the tibetans were reserving these for the defence of lhasa itself. but it is hardly credible that they should have sent levies against us armed with their obsolete matchlocks when they were well supplied with weapons of a modern pattern. russian intrigue was active in lhasa, but it had not gone so far as open armament. at nagartse we came across the great yamdok or palti lake, along the shores of which winds the road to lhasa. nagartse jong is a striking old keep, built on a bluff promontory of hill stretching out towards the blue waters of the lake. in the distance we saw the crag-perched monastery of samding, where lives the mysterious dorje phagmo, the incarnation of the goddess tara. the wild mountain scenery of the yamdok tso, the most romantic in tibet, has naturally inspired many legends. when samding was threatened by the dzungarian invaders early in the eighteenth century, dorje phagmo miraculously converted herself and all her attendant monks and nuns into pigs. serung dandub, the dzungarian chief, finding the monastery deserted, said that he would not loot a place guarded only by swine, whereupon dorje phagmo again metamorphosed herself and her satellites. the terrified invaders prostrated themselves in awe before the goddess, and presented the monastery with the most priceless gifts. similarly, the abbot of pehte saved the fortress and town from another band of invaders by giving the lake the appearance of green pasturelands, into which the dzungarians galloped and were engulfed. i quote these tales, which have been mentioned in nearly every book on tibet, as typical of the country. doubtless similar legends will be current in a few years about the british to account for the sparing of samding, nagartse, and pehte jong. special courtesy was shown the monks and nuns of samding, in recognition of the hospitality afforded sarat chandra dass by the last incarnation of dorje phagmo, who entertained the bengali traveller, and saw that he was attended to and cared for through a serious illness. a letter was sent dorje phagmo, asking if she would receive three british officers, including the antiquary of the expedition. but the present incarnation, a girl of six or seven years, was invisible, and the convent was reported to be bare of ornament and singularly disappointing. there were no pigs. if only one were without the incubus of an army, a month in the noijin kang sang country and the yamdok plain would be a delightful experience. but when one is accompanying a column one loses more than half the pleasure of travel. one has to get up at a fixed hour--generally uncomfortably early--breakfast, and pack and load one's mules and see them started in their allotted place in the line, ride in a crowd all day, often at a snail's pace, and halt at a fixed place. shooting is forbidden on the line of march. when alone one can wander about with a gun, pitch camp where one likes, make short or long marches as one likes, shoot or fish or loiter for days in the same place. the spirit which impels one to travel in wild places is an impulse, conscious or unconscious, to be free of laws and restraints, to escape conventions and social obligations, to temporarily throw one's self back into an obsolete phase of existence, amidst surroundings which bear little mark of the arbitrary meddling of man. it is not a high ideal, but men often deceive themselves when they think they make expeditions in order to add to science, and forsake the comforts of life, and endure hunger, cold, fatigue and loneliness, to discover in exactly what parallel of unknown country a river rises or bends to some particular point of the compass. how many travellers are there who would spend the same time in an office poring over maps or statistics for the sake of geography or any other science? we like to have a convenient excuse, and make a virtue out of a hobby or an instinct. but why not own up that one travels for the glamour of the thing? in previous wanderings my experience had always been to leave a base with several different objectives in view, and to take the route that proved most alluring when met by a choice of roads--some old deserted city or ruined shrine, some lake or marshland haunted by wild-fowl that have never heard the crack of a gun, or a strip of desert where one must calculate how to get across with just sufficient supplies and no margin. i like to drift to the magnet of great watersheds, lofty mountain passes, frontiers where one emerges among people entirely different in habit and belief from folk the other side, but equally convinced that they are the only enlightened people on earth. often in india i had dreamed of the great inland waters of tibet and mongolia, the haunts of myriads of duck and geese--yamdok tso, tengri nor, issik kul, names of romance to the wild-fowler, to be breathed with reverence and awe. i envied the great flights of mallard and pochard winging northward in march and april to the unknown; and here at last i was camping by the yamdok tso itself--with an army. yet i have digressed to grumble at the only means by which a sight of these hidden waters was possible. when we passed in july, there were no wild-fowl on the lake except the bar-headed geese and brahminy duck. the ruddy sheldrake, or brahminy, is found all over tibet, and will be associated with the memory of nearly every march and camping-ground. it is distinctly a buddhist bird. from it is derived the title of the established church of the lamas, the abbots of which wear robes of ruddy sheldrake colour, gelug-pa.[ ] in burmah the brahminy is sacred to buddhism as a symbol of devotion and fidelity, and it was figured on asoka's pillars in the same emblematical character.[ ] the brahminy is generally found in pairs, and when one is shot the other will often hover round till it falls a victim to conjugal love. in india the bird is considered inedible, but we were glad of it in tibet, and discovered no trace of fishy flavour. [ ] waddell, 'lamaism in tibet,' p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . early in april, when we passed the bam tso and kala tso we found the lakes frequented by nearly all the common migratory indian duck; and again, on our return large flights came in. but during the summer months nothing remained except the geese and sheldrake and the goosander, which is resident in tibet and the himalayas. i take it that no respectable duck spends the summer south of the tengri nor. at lhasa, mallard, teal, gadwall, and white-eyed pochard were coming in from the north as we were leaving in the latter half of september, and followed us down to the plains. they make shorter flights than i imagined, and longer stays at their fashionable central asian watering-places. we marched three days along the banks of the yamdok tso, and halted a day at nagartse. duck were not plentiful on the lake. black-headed gulls and redshanks were common. the fields of blue borage by the villages were an exquisite sight. on the nd we reached pehte. the jong, a medieval fortress, stands out on the lake like chillon, only it is more crumbling and dilapidated. the courtyards are neglected and overgrown with nettles. soldiers, villagers, both men and women, had run away to the hills with their flocks and valuables. only an old man and two boys were left in charge of the chapel and the fort. the hide fishing-boats were sunk, or carried over to the other side. on july we left the lake near the village of tamalung, and ascended the ridge on our left to the khamba pass, , feet above the lake level. a sudden turn in the path brought us to the saddle, and we looked down on the great river that has been guarded from european eyes for nearly a century. in the heart of tibet we had found arcadia--not a detached oasis, but a continuous strip of verdure, where the tsangpo cleaves the bleak hills and desert tablelands from west to east. all the valley was covered with green and yellow cornfields, with scattered homesteads surrounded by clusters of trees, not dwarfish and stunted in the struggle for existence, but stately and spreading--trees that would grace the valley of the thames or severn. we had come through the desert to arcady. when we left phari, months and months before, and crossed the tang la, we entered the desert. tuna is built on bare gravel, and in winter-time does not boast a blade of grass. within a mile there are stunted bushes, dry, withered, and sapless, which lend a sustenance to the gazelle and wild asses, beasts that from the beginning have chosen isolation, and, like the tibetans, who people the same waste, are content with spare diet so long as they are left alone. every tibetan of the tableland is a hermit by choice, or some strange hereditary instinct has impelled him to accept nature's most niggard gifts as his birthright, so that he toils a lifetime to win by his own labour and in scanty measure the necessaries which nature deals lavishly elsewhere, herding his yaks on the waste lands, tilling the unproductive soil for his meagre crop of barley, and searching the hillsides for yak-dung for fuel to warm his stone hut and cook his meal of flour. yet north and south of him, barely a week's journey, are warm, fertile valleys, luxuriant crops, unstinted woodlands, where mongols like himself accept nature's largess philosophically as the most natural thing in the world. it seems as if some special and economical law of providence, such a law as makes at least one man see beauty in every type of woman, even the most unlovely, had ordained it, so that no corner of the earth, not even the sahara, tadmor, tuna, or guru, should lack men who devote themselves blindly and without question to live there, and care for what one might think god himself had forgotten and overlooked. these men--bedouin, tibetans, and the like--enjoy one thing, for which they forego most things that men crave for, and that is freedom. they do not possess the gifts that cause strife, and divisions, and law-making, and political parties, and changes of government. they have too little to share. their country is invaded only at intervals of centuries. on these occasions they fight bravely, as their one inheritance is at stake. but they are bigoted and benighted; they have not kept time with evolution, and so they are defeated. the conservatism, the exclusiveness, that has kept them free so long has shut the door to 'progress,' which, if they were enlightened and introspective, they would recognise as a pestilence that has infected one half of the world at the expense of the other, making both unhappy and discontented. the tuna plain is like the palmyra desert at the point where one comes within view of the snows of lebanon. it is not monotonous; there is too much play of light and shade for that. everywhere the sun shines, the mirage dances; the white calcined plain becomes a flock of frightened sheep hurrying down the wind; the stunted sedge by the lakeside leaps up like a squadron in ambush and sweeps rapidly along without ever approaching nearer. sometimes a herd of wild asses is mingled in the dance, grotesquely magnified; stones and nettles become walls and men. all the country is elusive and unreal. a few miles beyond guru the road skirts the bamtso lake, which must once have filled the whole valley. now the waters have receded, as the process of desiccation is going on which has entirely changed the geographical features of central asia, and caused the disappearance of great expanses of water like the koko nor, and the dwindling of lakes and river from khotan to gobi. the roof of the world is becoming less and less inhabitable. from the desert to arcady is not a long journey, but armies travel slowly. after months of waiting and delay we reached the promised land. it was all suddenly unfolded to our view when we stood on the khamba la. below us was a purely pastoral landscape. beyond lay hills even more barren and verdureless than those we had crossed. but every mile or so green fan-shaped valleys, irrigated by clear streams, interrupted the barrenness, opening out into the main valley east and west with perfect symmetry. to the north-east flowed the kyi chu, the valley in which lhasa lay screened, only fifty-six miles distant. to the south of the pass lay the great yamdok lake, wild and beautiful, its channels twining into the dark interstices of the hills--valleys of mystery and gloom, where no white man has ever trod. lights and shadows fell caressingly on the lake and hills. at one moment a peak was ebony black, at another--as the heavy clouds passed from over it, and the sun's rays illumined it through a thin mist--golden as a field of buttercups. often at sunset the grassy cones of the hills glow like gilded pagodas, and the tibetans, i am told, call these sunlit plots the 'golden ground.' in bright sunlight the lake is a deep turquoise blue, but at evening time transient lights and shades fleet over it with the moving clouds, light forget-me-not, deep purple, the azure of a butterfly's wing--then all is swept away, immersed in gloom, before the dark, menacing storm-clouds. on the th i crossed the river with the st mounted infantry and th pathans. my tent is pitched on the roof of a rambling two-storied house, under the shade of a great walnut-tree. crops, waist-deep, grow up to the walls--barley, wheat, beans, and peas. on the roof are garden flowers in pots, hollyhocks, and marigolds. the cornfields are bright with english wild-flowers--dandelions, buttercups, astragalus, and a purple michaelmas daisy. there is no village, but farmhouses are dotted about the valley, and groves of trees--walnut and peach, and poplar and willow--enclosed within stone walls. wild birds that are almost tame are nesting in the trees--black and white magpies, crested hoopoes, and turtle-doves. the groves are irrigated like the fields, and carpeted with flowers. homelike butterflies frequent them, and honey-bees. everything is homelike. there is no mystery in the valley, except its access, or, rather, its inaccessibility. we have come to it through snow passes, over barren, rocky wildernesses; we have won it with toil and suffering, through frost and rain and snow and blistering sun. and now that we had found arcady, i would have stayed there. lhasa was only four marches distant, but to me, in that mood of almost immoral indolence, it seemed that this strip of verdure, with its happy pastoral scenes, was the most impassable barrier that nature had planted in our path. like the tibetans, she menaced and threatened us at first, then she turned to us with smiles and cajoleries, entreating us to stay, and her seduction was harder to resist. * * * * * to trace the course of the tsangpo river from tibet to its outlet into assam has been the goal of travellers for over a century. here is one of the few unknown tracts of the world, where no white man has ever penetrated. until quite recently there was a hot controversy among geographers as to whether the tsangpo was the main feeder of the brahmaputra or reappeared in burmah as the irawaddy. all attempts to explore the river from india have proved fruitless, owing to the intense hostility of the abor and passi minyang tribes, who oppose all intrusion with their poisoned arrows and stakes, sharp and formidable as spears, cunningly set in the ground to entrap invaders; while the vigilance of the lamas has made it impossible for any european to get within miles of the tsangpo valley from tibet. it was not until that all doubt as to the identity of the tsangpo and brahmaputra was set aside by the survey of the native explorer a. k. and the course of the brahmaputra, or dihong, as it is called in northern assam, was never thoroughly investigated until the explorations of mr. needham, the political officer at sadiya, and his trained gurkhas, who penetrated northwards as far as gina, a village half a day's journey beyond passi ghat, and only about seventy miles south of the point reached by a. k. from tibet. the return of the british expedition from tibet was evidently the opportunity of a century for the investigation of this unexplored country. we had gained the hitherto inaccessible base, and were provided with supplies and transport on the spot; we had no opposition to expect from the tibetans, who were naturally eager to help us out of the country by whatever road we chose, and had promised to send officials with us to their frontier at gyala sendong, who would forage for us and try to impress the villagers into our service. the hostile tribes beyond the frontier were not so likely to resist an expedition moving south to their homes after a successful campaign as a force entering their country from our indian frontier. in the latter case they would naturally be more suspicious of designs on their independence. the distance from lhasa to assam was variously estimated from to miles. i think the calculations were influenced, perhaps unconsciously, by sympathy with, or aversion from, the enterprise. * * * * * the shapés, it is true, though they promised to help us if we were determined on it, advised us emphatically not to go by the tsangpo route. they said that the natives of their own outlying provinces were bandits and cut-throats, practically independent of the lhasa government, while the savages beyond the frontier were dangerous people who obeyed no laws. the shapés' notions as to the course of the river were most vague. when questioned, they said there was a legend that it disappeared into a hole in the earth. the country near its mouth was inhabited by savages, who went about unclothed, and fed on monkeys and reptiles. it was rumoured that they were horned like animals, and that mothers did not know their own children. but this they could not vouch for. it was believed that tracks of a kind existed from village to village all along the route, but these, of course, after a time would become impracticable for pack transport. the mules would have to be abandoned, and sent back to gyantse by our guides, or presented to the tibetan officials who accompanied us. then we were to proceed by forced marches through the jungle, with coolie transport if obtainable; if not, each man was to carry rice for a few days. the distance from the tibet frontier to sadiya is not great, and the unexplored country is reckoned not to be more than seven stages. the force would bivouac, and, if their advance were resisted, would confine themselves solely to defensive tactics. in case of opposition, the greatest difficulty would be the care of the wounded, as each invalid would need four carriers. thus, a few casualties would reduce enormously the fighting strength of the escort. but opposition was unlikely. mr. needham, who has made the tribes of the dihong valley the study of a lifetime, and succeeded to some extent in gaining their confidence, considered the chances of resistance small. he would, he said, send messages to the tribes that the force coming through their country from the north were his friends, that they had been engaged in a punitive expedition against the lamas (whom the abors detested), that they were returning home by the shortest route to assam, and had no designs on the territory they traversed. it was proposed that mr. needham should go up the river as far as possible and furnish the party with supplies. all arrangements had been made for the exploring-party, which was to leave the main force at chaksam ferry, and was expected to arrive in sadiya almost simultaneously with the winding up of the expedition at siliguri. captain ryder, r.e., was to command the party, and his escort was to be made up of the th gurkhas, who had long experience of the assam frontier tribes, and were the best men who could be chosen for the work. officers were selected, supply and transport details arranged, everything was in readiness, when at the last moment, only a day or two before the party was to start, a message was received from simla refusing to sanction the expedition. colonel younghusband was entirely in favour of it, but the military authorities had a clean slate; they had come through so far without a single disaster, and it seemed that no scientific or geographical considerations could have any weight with them in their determination to take no risks. of course there were risks, and always must be in enterprises of the kind; but i think the circumstances of the moment reduced them to a minimum, and that the results to be obtained from the projected expedition should have entirely outweighed them. in european scientific circles much was expected of the tibetan expedition. but it has added very little to science. the surveys that were made have done little more than modify the previous investigations of native surveyors.[ ] [ ] the only expedition sanctioned is that which is now exploring the little-known trade route between gyantse and gartok, where a mart has been opened to us by the recent tibetan treaty. the party consists of captain ryder, r.e., in command, captain wood, r.e., lieutenant bailey, of the nd pioneers, and six picked men of the th gurkhas. they follow the main feeder of the tsangpo nearly miles, then strike into the high lacustrine tableland of western tibet, passing the great mansarowar lake to gartok; thence over the indus watershed, and down the sutlej valley to simla, where they are expected about the end of january. the party will be able to collect useful information about the trade resources of the country; but the route has already been mapped by nain singh, the indian surveyor, and the geographical results of the expedition will be small compared with what would have been derived from the projected tengri nor and brahmaputra trips. an expedition to the mountains bordering the tengri nor, only nine days north of lhasa, would have linked all the unknown country north of the tsang po with the tracts explored by sven hedin, and left the map without a hiatus in four degrees of longitude from cape comorin to the arctic ocean. but military considerations were paramount. for myself, the abandonment of the expedition was a great disappointment. i had counted on it as early as february, and had made all preparations to join it. chapter xiii lhasa and its vanished deity the passage of the river was difficult and dangerous. if we had had to depend on the four berthon boats we took with us, the crossing might have taken weeks. but the good fortune that attended the expedition throughout did not fail us. at chaksam we found the tibetans had left behind their two great ferry-boats, quaint old barges with horses' heads at the prow, capacious enough to hold a hundred men. the tibetan ferrymen worked for us cheerfully. a number of hide boats were also discovered. the transport mules were swum over, and the whole force was across in less than a week. but the river took its toll most tragically. the current is swift and boisterous; the eddies and whirlpools are dangerously uncertain. two berthon boats, bound together into a raft, capsized, and major bretherton, chief supply and transport officer, and two gurkhas were drowned. it seemed as if the genius of the river, offended at our intrusion, had claimed its price and carried off the most valuable life in the force. it was major bretherton's foresight more than anything that enabled us to reach lhasa. his loss was calamitous. we left our camp at the ferry on july , and started for lhasa, which was only forty-three miles distant. it was difficult to believe that in three days we would be looking on the potala. the kyi chu, the holy river of lhasa, flows into the tsangpo at chushul, three miles below chaksam ferry, where our troops crossed. the river is almost as broad as the thames at greenwich, and the stream is swift and clear. the valley is cultivated in places, but long stretches are bare and rocky. sand-dunes, overgrown with artemisia scrub, extend to the margin of cultivation, leaving a well-defined line between the green cornfields and the barren sand. the crops were ripening at the time of our advance, and promised a plentiful harvest. for many miles the road is cut out of a precipitous cliff above the river. a few hundred men could have destroyed it in an afternoon, and delayed our advance for another week. newly-built sangars at the entrance of the gorge showed that the tibetans had intended to hold it. but they left the valley in a disorganized state the day we reached the tsangpo. had they fortified the position, they might have made it stronger than the karo la. the heat of the valley was almost tropical. summer by the kyi chu river is very different from one's first conceptions of tibet. to escape the heat, i used to write my diary in the shade of gardens and willow groves. hoopoes, magpies, and huge black ravens became inquisitive and confidential. i have a pile of little black notebooks i scribbled over in their society, dirty and torn and soiled with pressed flowers. for a picture of the valley i will go to these. one's freshest impressions are the best, and truer than reminiscences. nethang. in the most fertile part of the kyi chu valley, where the fields are intersected in all directions by clear-running streams bordered with flowers, in a grove of poplars where doves were singing all day long, i found atisa's tomb. it was built in a large, plain, barn-like building, clean and sweet-smelling as a granary, and innocent of ornament outside and in. it was the only clean and simple place devoted to religion i had seen in tibet. in every house and monastery we entered on the road there were gilded images, tawdry paintings, demons and she-devils, garish frescoes on the wall, hideous grinning devil-masks, all the lama's spurious apparatus of terrorism. these were the outward symbols of demonolatry and superstition invented by scheming priests as the fabric of their sacerdotalism. but this was the resting-place of the reformer, the true son of buddha, who came over the himalayas to preach a religion of love and mercy. i entered the building out of the glare of the sun, expecting nothing but the usual monsters and abortions--just as one is dragged into a church in some tourist-ridden land, where, if only for the sake of peace, one must cast an apathetic eye at the lions of the country. but as the tomb gradually assumed shape in the dim light, i knew that there was someone here, a priest or a community, who understood atisa, who knew what he would have wished his last resting-place to be; or perhaps the good old monk had left a will or spoken a plain word that had been handed down and remembered these thousand years, and was now, no doubt, regarded as an eccentric's whim, that there must be no gods or demons by his tomb, nothing abnormal, no pretentiousness of any kind. if his teaching had lived, how simple and honest and different tibet would be to-day! the tomb was not beautiful--a large square plinth, supporting layers of gradually decreasing circumference and forming steps two feet in height, the last a platform on which was based a substantial vat-like structure with no ornament or inscription except a thin line of black pencilled saints. by climbing up the layers of masonry i found a pair of slant eyes gazing at nothing and hidden by a curve in the stone from gazers below. this was the only painting on the tomb. never in the thousand years since the good monk was laid to rest at nethang had a white man entered this shrine. to-day the courtyard was crowded with mules and drivers; hindus and pathans in british uniform: they were ransacking the place for corn. a transport officer was shouting: 'how many bags have you, babu?' 'a hundred and seven, sir.' 'remember, if anyone loots, he will get fifty _beynt_' (stripes with the cat-o'-nine-tails). then he turned to me. 'what the devil is that old thief doing over there?' he said, and nodded at a man with archæological interests, who was peering about in a dark corner by the tomb. 'there is nothing more here.' 'he is examining atisa's tomb.' 'and who the devil is atisa?' and who is he? merely a name to a few dry-as-dust pedants. everything human he did is forgotten. the faintest ripple remains to-day from that stone cast into the stagnant waters so many years ago. a few monks drone away their days in a monastery close by. in the courtyard there is a border of hollyhocks and snapdragon and asters. here the unsavoury guardians of atisa's tomb watch me as i write, and wonder what on earth i am doing among them, and what spell or mantra i am inscribing in the little black book that shuts so tightly with a clasp. toilung. to-morrow we reach lhasa. a few hours ago we caught the first glimpse of the potala palace, a golden dome standing out on a bluff rock in the centre of the valley. the city is not seen from afar perched on a hill like the great monasteries and jongs of the country. it is literally 'hidden.' a rocky promontory projects from the bleak hills to the south like a screen, hiding lhasa, as if nature conspired in its seclusion. here at a distance of seven miles we can see the potala and the lamas' medical college. trees and undulating ground shut out the view of the actual city until one is within a mile of it. to-morrow we camp outside. it is nearly a hundred years since thomas manning, the only englishman (until to-day) who ever saw lhasa, preceded us. our journey has not been easy, but we have come in spite of everything. the lamas have opposed us with all their material and spiritual resources. they have fought us with medieval weapons and a medley of modern firearms. they have held commination services, recited mantras, and cursed us solemnly for days. yet we have come on. they have sent delegates and messengers of every rank to threaten and entreat and plead with us--emissaries of increasing importance as we have drawn nearer their capital, until the dalai lama despatched his own grand chamberlain and grand secretary, and, greater than these, the ta lama and yutok shapé, members of the ruling council of five, whose sacred persons had never before been seen by european eyes. to-morrow the amban himself comes to meet colonel younghusband. the dalai lama has sent him a letter sealed with his own seal. every stretch of road from the frontier to lhasa has had its symbol of remonstrance. cairns and chortens, and _mani_ walls and praying-flags, demons painted on the rock, writings on the wall, white stones piled upon black, have emitted their ray of protest and malevolence in vain. the lamas knew we must come. hundreds of years ago a buddhist saint wrote it in his book of prophecies, ma-ong lung-ten, which may be bought to-day in the lhasa book-shops. he predicted that tibet would be invaded and conquered by the philings (europeans), when all of the true religion would go to chang shambula, the northern paradise, and buddhism would become extinct in the country. and now the lamas believe that the prophecy will be fulfilled by our entry into lhasa, and that their religion will decay before foreign influence. the dalai lama, they say, will die, not by violence or sickness, but by some spiritual visitation. his spirit will seek some other incarnation, when he can no longer benefit his people or secure his country, so long sacred to buddhists, from the contamination of foreign intrusion. the tibetans are not the savages they are depicted. they are civilized, if medieval. the country is governed on the feudal system. the monks are the overlords, the peasantry their serfs. the poor are not oppressed. they and the small tenant farmers work ungrudgingly for their spiritual masters, to whom they owe a blind devotion. they are not discontented, though they give more than a tithe of their small income to the church. it must be remembered that every family contributes at least one member to the priesthood, so that, when we are inclined to abuse the monks for consuming the greater part of the country's produce, we should remember that the laymen are not the victims of class prejudice, the plebeians groaning under the burden of the patricians, so much as the servants of a community chosen from among themselves, and with whom they are connected by family ties. no doubt the lamas employ spiritual terrorism to maintain their influence and preserve the temporal government in their hands; and when they speak of their religion being injured by our intrusion, they are thinking, no doubt, of another unveiling of mysteries, the dreaded age of materialism and reason, when little by little their ignorant serfs will be brought into contact with the facts of life, and begin to question the justness of the relations that have existed between themselves and their rulers for centuries. but at present the people are medieval, not only in their system of government and their religion, their inquisition, their witchcraft, their incantations, their ordeals by fire and boiling oil, but in every aspect of their daily life. i question if ever in the history of the world there has been another occasion when bigotry and darkness have been exposed with such abruptness to the inroad of science, when a barrier of ignorance created by jealousy and fear as a screen between two peoples living side by side has been demolished so suddenly to admit the light of an advanced civilization. the tibetans, no doubt, will benefit, and many abuses will be swept away. yet there will always be people who will hanker after the medieval and romantic, who will say: 'we men are children. why could we not have been content that there was one mystery not unveiled, one country of an ancient arrested civilization, and an established church where men are still guided by sorcery and incantations, and direct their mundane affairs with one eye on a grotesque spirit world, which is the most real thing in their lives--a land of topsy-turvy and inverted proportions, where men spend half their lives mumbling unintelligible mantras and turning mechanical prayers, and when dead are cut up into mincemeat and thrown to the dogs and vultures?' to-morrow, when we enter lhasa, we will have unveiled the last mystery the of the east. there are no more forbidden cities which men have not mapped and photographed. our children will laugh at modern travellers' tales. they will have to turn again to gulliver and haroun al raschid. and they will soon tire of these. for now that there are no real mysteries, no unknown land of dreams, where there may still be genii and mahatmas and bottle-imps, that kind of literature will be tolerated no longer. children will be sceptical and matter-of-fact and disillusioned, and there will be no sale for fairy-stories any more. but we ourselves are children. why could we not have left at least one city out of bounds? lhasa, _august ._ we reached lhasa to-day, after a march of seven miles, and camped outside the city. as we approached, the road became an embankment across a marsh. butterflies and dragon-flies were hovering among the rushes, clematis grew in the stonework by the roadside, cows were grazing in the rich pastureland, redshanks were calling, a flight of teal passed overhead; the whole scene was most homelike, save for the bare scarred cliffs that jealously preclude a distant view of the city. some of us climbed the chagpo ri and looked down on the city. lhasa lay a mile in front of us, a mass of huddled roofs and trees, dominated by the golden dome of the jokhang cathedral. it must be the most hidden city on earth. the chagpo ri rises bluffly from the river-bank like a huge rock. between it and the potala hill there is a narrow gap not more than thirty yards wide. over this is built the pargo kaling, a typical tibetan chorten, through which is the main gateway into lhasa. the city has no walls, but beyond the potala, to complete the screen, stretches a great embankment of sand right across the valley to the hills on the north. [illustration] lhasa, _august ._ an epoch in the world's history was marked to-day when colonel younghusband entered the city to return the visit of the chinese amban. he was accompanied by all the members of the mission, the war correspondents, and an escort of two companies of the royal fusiliers and the nd mounted infantry. half a company of mounted infantry, two guns, a detachment of sappers, and four companies of infantry were held ready to support the escort if necessary. in front of us marched and rode the amban's escort--his bodyguard, dressed in short loose coats of french gray, embroidered in black, with various emblems; pikemen clad in bright red with black embroidery and black pugarees; soldiers with pikes and scythes and three-pronged spears, on all of which hung red banners with devices embroidered in black. we found the city squalid and filthy beyond description, undrained and unpaved. not a single house looked clean or cared for. the streets after rain are nothing but pools of stagnant water frequented by pigs and dogs searching for refuse. even the jokhang appeared mean and squalid at close quarters, whence its golden roofs were invisible. there was nothing picturesque except the marigolds and hollyhocks in pots and the doves and singing-birds in wicker cages. the few tibetans we met in the street were strangely incurious. a baker kneading dough glanced at us casually, and went on kneading. a woman weaving barely looked up from her work. the streets were almost deserted, perhaps by order of the authorities to prevent an outbreak. but as we returned small crowds had gathered in the doorways, women were peering through windows, but no one followed or took more than a listless interest in us. the monks looked on sullenly. but in most faces one read only indifference and apathy. one might think the entry of a foreign army into lhasa and the presence of english political officers in gold-laced uniform and beaver hats were everyday events. the only building in lhasa that is at all imposing is the potala. it would be misleading to say that the palace dominated the city, as a comparison would be implied--a picture conveyed of one building standing out signally among others. this is not the case. the potala is superbly detached. it is not a palace on a hill, but a hill that is also a palace. its massive walls, its terraces and bastions stretch upwards from the plain to the crest, as if the great bluff rock were merely a foundation-stone planted there at the divinity's nod. the divinity dwells in the palace, and underneath, at the distance of a furlong or two, humanity is huddled abjectly in squalid smut-begrimed houses. the proportion is that which exists between god and man. if one approached within a league of lhasa, saw the glittering domes of the potala, and turned back without entering the precincts, one might still imagine it an enchanted city, shining with turquoise and gold. but having entered, the illusion is lost. one might think devout buddhists had excluded strangers in order to preserve the myth of the city's beauty and mystery and wealth, or that the place was consciously neglected and defaced so as to offer no allurements to heretics, just as the repulsive women one meets in the streets smear themselves over with grease and cutch to make themselves even more hideous than nature ordained. the place has not changed since manning visited it ninety years ago, and wrote:--'there is nothing striking, nothing pleasing, in its appearance. the habitations are begrimed with smut and dirt. the avenues are full of dogs, some growling and gnawing bits of hide that lie about in profusion, and emit a charnel-house smell; others limping and looking livid; others ulcerated; others starved and dying, and pecked at by ravens; some dead and preyed upon. in short, everything seems mean and gloomy, and excites the idea of something unreal.' that is the lhasa of to-day. probably it was the same centuries ago. above all this squalor the potala towers superbly. its golden roofs, shining in the sun like tongues of fire, are a landmark for miles, and must inspire awe and veneration in the hearts of pilgrims coming from the desert parts of tibet, kashmir, and mongolia to visit the sacred city that buddha has blessed. the secret of romance is remoteness, whether in time or space. if we could be thrown back to the days of agincourt we should be enchanted at first, but after a week should vote everything commonplace and dull. falstaff, the beery lout, would be an impossible companion, and prince hal a tiresome young cub who wanted a good dressing-down. in travel, too, as one approaches the goal, and the country becomes gradually familiar, the husk of romance falls off. childe roland must have been sadly disappointed in the dark tower; filth and familiarity very soon destroyed the romance of lhasa. but romance still clings to the potala. it is still remote. like imray, its sacred inmate has achieved the impossible. divinity or no, he has at least the divine power of vanishing. in the material west, as we like to call it, we know how hard it is for the humblest subject to disappear, in spite of the confused hub of traffic and intricate network of communications. yet here in lhasa, a city of dreamy repose, a king has escaped, been spirited into the air, and nobody is any the wiser. when we paraded the city yesterday, we made a complete circuit of the potala. there was no one, not even the humblest follower, so unimaginative that he did not look up from time to time at the frowning cliff and thousand sightless windows that concealed the unknown. those hidden corridors and passages have been for centuries, and are, perhaps, at this very moment, the scenes of unnatural piety and crime. within the precincts of lhasa the taking of life in any form is sacrilege. buddha's first law was, 'thou shalt not kill'; and life is held so sacred by his devout followers that they are careful not to kill the smallest insect. yet this palace, where dwells the divine incarnation of the bodhisat, the head of the buddhist church, must have witnessed more murders and instigations to crime than the most blood-stained castle of medieval europe. since the assumption of temporal power by the fifth grand lama in the middle of the seventeenth century, the whole history of the tibetan hierarchy has been a record of bloodshed and intrigue. the fifth grand lama, the first to receive the title of dalai, was a most unscrupulous ruler, who secured the temporal power by inciting the mongols to invade tibet, and received as his reward the kingship. he then established his claim to the godhead by tampering with buddhist history and writ. the sixth incarnation was executed by the chinese on account of his profligacy. the seventh was deposed by the chinese as privy to the murder of the regent. after the death of the eighth, of whom i can learn nothing, it would seem that the tables were turned: the regents systematically murdered their charge, and the crime of the seventh dalai lama was visited upon four successive incarnations. the ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth all died prematurely, assassinated, it is believed, by their regents. there are no legends of malmsey-butts, secret smotherings, and hired assassins. the children disappeared; they were absorbed into the universal essence; they were literally too good to live. their regents and protectors, monks only less sacred than themselves, provided that the spirit in its yearning for the next state should not be long detained in its mortal husk. no questions were asked. how could the devout trace the comings and goings of the divine avalokita, the lord of mercy and judgment, who ordains into what heaven or hell, demon, god, hero, mollusc, or ape, their spirits must enter, according to their sins? so, when we reached lhasa the other day, and heard that the thirteenth incarnation had fled, no one was surprised. yet the wonder remains. a great prince, a god to thousands of men, has been removed from his palace and capital, no one knows whither or when. a ruler has disappeared who travels with every appanage of state, inspiring awe in his prostrate servants, whose movements, one would think, were watched and talked about more than any sovereign's on earth. yet fear, or loyalty, or ignorance keeps every subject tongue-tied. we have spies and informers everywhere, and there are men in lhasa who would do much to please the new conquerors of tibet. there are also witless men, who have eyes and ears, but, it seems, no tongues. but so far neither avarice nor witlessness has betrayed anything. for all we know, the dalai lama may be still in his palace in some hidden chamber in the rock, or maybe he has never left his customary apartments, and still performs his daily offices in the potala, confident that there at least his sanctity is inviolable by unbelievers. the british tommy in the meanwhile parades the streets as indifferently as if they were the new cut or lambeth palace road. he looks up at the potala, and says: 'the old bloke's done a bunk. wish we'd got 'im; we might get 'ome then.' lhasa, _august --._ we had been in lhasa nearly three weeks before we could discover where the dalai lama had fled. we know now that he left his palace secretly in the night, and took the northern road to mongolia. the buriat, dorjieff met him at nagchuka, on the verge of the great desert that separates inhabited tibet from mongolia, miles from lhasa. on the th the amban told us that he had already left nagchuka twelve days, and was pushing on across the desert to the frontier. i have been trying to find out something about the private life and character of the grand lama. but asking questions here is fruitless; one can learn nothing intimate. and this is just what one might expect. the man continues a bogie, a riddle, undivinable, impersonal, remote. the people know nothing. they have bowed before the throne as men come out of the dark into a blinding light. scrutiny in their view would be vain and blasphemous. the abbots, too, will reveal nothing; they will not and dare not. when colonel younghusband put the question direct to a head lama in open durbar, 'have you news of the dalai lama? do you know where he is?' the monk looked slowly to left and right, and answered, 'i know nothing.' 'the ruler of your country leaves his palace and capital, and you know nothing?' the commissioner asked. 'nothing,' answered the monk, shuffling his feet, but without changing colour. from various sources, which differ surprisingly little, i have a fairly clear picture of the man's face and figure. he is thick-set, about five feet nine inches in height, with a heavy square jaw, nose remarkably long and straight for a tibetan, eyebrows pronounced and turning upwards in a phenomenal manner--probably trained so, to make his appearance more forbidding--face pockmarked, general expression resolute and sinister. he goes out very little, and is rarely seen by the people, except on his annual visit to depung, and during his migrations between the summer palace and the potala. he was at the summer palace when the messenger brought the news that our advance was inevitable, but he went to the potala to put his house in order before projecting himself into the unknown. his face is the index of his character. he is a man of strong personality, impetuous, despotic, and intolerant of advice in state affairs. he is constantly deposing his ministers, and has estranged from himself a large section of the upper classes, both ecclesiastical and official, owing to his wayward and headstrong disposition. as a child he was so precociously acute and resolute that he survived his regent, and so upset the traditional policy of murder, being the only one out of the last five incarnations to reach his majority. since he took the government of the country into his own hands he has reduced the chinese suzerainty to a mere shadow, and, with fatal results to himself, consistently insulted and defied the british. his inclination to a rapprochement with russia is not shared by his ministers. the only glimpse i have had into the man himself was reflected in a conversation with the nepalese resident, a podgy little man, very ugly and good-natured, with the manners of a french comedian and a face generally expanded in a broad grin. he shook with laughter when i asked him if he knew the dalai lama, and the idea was really intensely funny, this mercurial, irreverent little man hobnobbing with the divine. 'i have seen him,' he said, and exploded again. 'but what does he do all day?' i asked. the resident puckered up his brow, aping abstraction, and began to wave his hand in the air solemnly with a slow circular movement, mumbling '_om man padme om_' to the revolutions of an imaginary praying-wheel. he was immensely pleased with the effort and the effect it produced on a sepoy orderly. 'but has he no interests or amusements?' i asked. the resident could think of none. but he told me a story to illustrate the dulness of the man, for whom he evidently had no reverence. on his return from his last visit to india, the maharaja of nepal had given him a phonograph to present to the priest-king. the impious toy was introduced to the holy of holies, and the dalai lama walked round it uneasily as it emitted the strains of english band music, and raucously repeated an indelicate bhutanese song. after sitting a long while in deep thought, he rose and said he could not live with this voice without a soul; it must leave his palace at once. the rejected phonograph found a home with the chinese amban, to whom it was presented with due ceremonial the same day. 'the lama is _gumar_,' the resident said, using a hindustani word which may be translated, according to our charity, by anything between 'boorish' and 'unenlightened.' i was glad to meet a man in this city of evasiveness whose views were positive, and who was eager to communicate them. through him i tracked the shadow, as it were, of this impersonality, and found that to many strangers in lhasa, and perhaps to a few lhasans themselves, the divinity was all clay, a palpable fraud, a pompous and puritanical dullard masquerading as a god. for my own part, i think the oracle that counselled his flight wiser than the statesmen who object that it was a political mistake. he has lost his prestige, they say. but imagine him dragged into durbar as a signatory, gazed at by profane eyes, the subject of a few days' gossip and comment, then sunk into commonplace, stripped of his mystery like this city of lhasa, through which we now saunter familiarly, wondering when we shall start again for the _wilds_. to escape this ordeal he has fled, and to us, at least, his flight has deepened the mystery that envelops him, and added to his dignity and remoteness; to thousands of mystical dreamers it has preserved the effulgence of his godhead unsoiled by contact with the profane world. from our camp here the potala draws the eye like a magnet. there is nothing but sky and marsh and bleak hill and palace. when we look out of our tents in the morning, the sun is striking the golden roof like a beacon light to the faithful. nearly every day in august this year has opened fine and closed with storm-clouds gathering from the west, through which the sun shines, bathing the eastern valley in a soft, pearly light. the western horizon is dark and lowering, the eastern peaceful and serene. in this division of darkness and light the potala stands out like a haven, not flaming now, but faintly luminous with a restful mystic light, soothing enough to rob buddhist metaphysics of its pessimism and induce a mood, even in unbelievers, in which one is content to merge the individual and become absorbed in the universal spirit of nature. no wonder that, when one looks for mystery in lhasa, one's thoughts dwell solely on the dalai lama and the potala. i cannot help dwelling on the flight of the thirteenth incarnation. it plunges us into medievalism. to my mind, there is no picture so romantic and engrossing in modern history as that exodus, when the spiritual head of the buddhist church, the temporal ruler of six millions, stole out of his palace by night and was borne away in his palanquin, no one knows on what errand or with what impotent rage in his heart. the flight was really secret. no one but his immediate confidants and retainers, not even the amban himself, knew that he had gone. i can imagine the awed attendants, the burying of treasure, the locking and sealing of chests, faint lights flickering in the passages, hurried footsteps in the corridors, dogs barking intermittently at this unwonted bustle--i feel sure the priest-king kicked one as he stepped on the terrace for the last time. then the procession by moonlight up the narrow valley to the north, where the roar of the stream would drown the footsteps of the palanquin-bearers. a month afterwards i followed on his track, and stood on the phembu pass twelve miles north of lhasa, whence one looks down on the huge belt of mountains that lie between the brahmaputra and the desert, so packed and huddled that their crests look like one continuous undulating plain stretching to the horizon. looking across the valley, i could see the northern road to mongolia winding up a feeder of the phembu chu. they passed along here and over the next range, and across range after range, until they reached the two conical snow-peaks that stand out of the plain beside tengri nor, a hundred miles to the north. for days they skirted the great lake, and then, as if they feared the nemesis of our offended raj could pursue them to the end of the earth, broke into the desert, across which they must be hurrying now toward the great mountain chain of burkhan buddha, on the southern limits of mongolia. lhasa, _august ._ the tibetans are the strangest people on earth. to-day i discovered how they dispose of their dead. to hold life sacred and benefit the creatures are the laws of buddha, which they are supposed to obey most scrupulously. and as they think they may be reborn in any shape of mammal, bird, or fish, they are kind to living things. during the morning service the lamas repeat a prayer for the minute insects which they have swallowed inadvertently in their meat and drink, and the formula insures the rebirth of these microbes in heaven. sometimes, when a lama's life is despaired of, the monks will ransom a yak or a bullock from the shambles, and keep him a pensioner in their monastery, praying the good buddha to spare the sick man's life for the life ransomed. yet they eat meat freely, all save the gelug-pa, or reformed church, and square their conscience with their appetite by the pretext that the sin rests with the outcast assassin, the public butcher, who will be born in the next incarnation as some tantalized spirit or agonized demon. that, however, is his own affair. but it is when a tibetan dies that his charity to the creatures becomes really practical. then, by his own tacit consent when living, his body is given as a feast to the dogs and vultures. this is no casual or careless gift to avoid the trouble of burial or cremation. all creatures who have a taste for these things are invited to the ceremony, and the corpse is carved to their liking by an expert, who devotes his life to the practice. when a tibetan dies he is left three days in his chamber, and a slit is made in his skull to let his soul pass out. then he is rolled into a ball, wrapped in a sack, or silk if he is rich, packed into a jar or basket, and carried along to the music of conch shells to the ceremonial stone. here a lama takes the corpse out of its vessel and wrappings, and lays it face downwards on a large flat slab, and the pensioners prowl or hop round, waiting for their dole. they are quite tame. the lamas stand a little way apart, and see that strict etiquette is observed during the entertainment. the carver begins at the ankle, and cuts upwards, throwing little strips of flesh to the guests; the bones he throws to a second attendant, who pounds them up with a heavy stone. i passed the place to-day as i rode in from a reconnaissance. the slab lies a stone's-throw to the left of the great northern road to tengri nor and mongolia, about two miles from the city. a group of stolid vultures, too demoralized to range in search of carrion, stood motionless on a rock above, waiting the next dispenser of charity. a few ravens hopped about sadly; they, too, were evidently pauperized. one magpie was prying round in suspicious proximity, and dogs conscious of shame slunk about without a bark in them, and nosed the ground diligently. they are always there, waiting. there was hardly a stain on the slab, so quick and eager are the applicants for charity. only a few rags lay around, too poor to be carried away. i have not seen the ceremony, and i have no mind to. my companion this morning, a hardened young subaltern who was fighting nearly every day in april, may, and june, and has seen more bloodshed than most veterans, saw just as much as i have described. he then felt very ill, dug his spurs into his horse, and rode away. chapter xiv the city and its temples by the first week in september i had visited all the most important temples and monasteries in lhasa. we generally went in parties of four and five, and a company of sikhs or pathans was left in the courtyard in case of accidents. we were well armed, as the monks were sullen, though i do not think they were capable of any desperate fanaticism. if they had had the abandon of dervishes, they might have rushed our camp long before. they missed their chance at gyantse, when a night attack pushed home by overwhelming numbers could have wiped out our little garrison. in lhasa there was the one case of the lama who ran amuck outside the camp with the coat of mail and huge paladin's sword concealed beneath his cloak, a medieval figure who thrashed the air with his brand like a flail in sheer lust of blood. he was hanged medievally the next day within sight of lhasa. since then the exploit has not been repeated, but no one leaves the perimeter unarmed. i have written of the squalor of the lhasa streets. the environs of the city are beautiful enough--willow groves intersected by clear-running streams, walled-in parks with palaces and fish-ponds, marshes where the wild-duck flaunt their security, and ripe barley-fields stretching away to the hills. in september the trees were wearing their autumn tints, the willows were mostly a sulphury yellow, and in the pools beneath the red-stalked _polygonum_ and burnished dock-leaf glowed in brilliant contrast. just before dusk there was generally a storm in the valley, which only occasionally reached the city; but the breeze stirred the poplars, and the silver under the leaves glistened brightly against the background of clouds. often a rainbow hung over the potala like a nimbus. on the lingkhor, or circular road, which winds round lhasa, we saw pilgrims and devotees moving slowly along in prayer, always keeping the potala on their right hand. the road is only used for devotion. one meets decrepit old women and men, halting and limping and slowly revolving their prayer-wheels and mumbling charms. i never saw a healthy yokel or robust lama performing this rite. nor did i see the pilgrims whom one reads of as circumambulating the city on their knees by a series of prostrations, bowing their heads in the dust and mud. all the devotees are poor and ragged, and many blind. it seems that the people of lhasa do not begin to think of the next incarnation until they have nothing left in this. when one leaves the broad avenues between the walls of the groves and pleasure-gardens, and enters the city, one's senses are offended by everything that is unsightly and unclean. pigs and pariah dogs are nosing about in black oozy mud. the houses are solid but dirty. it is hard to believe that they are whitewashed every year. close to the western entrance are the huts of the ragyabas, beggars, outcasts, and scavengers, who cut up the dead. the outer walls of their houses are built of yak-horns. some of the houses had banks of turf built up outside the doors, with borders of english flowers. the dwellings are mostly two or three storied. bird-cages hang from the windows. the outside of the cathedral is not at all imposing. from the streets one cannot see the golden roof, but only high blank walls, and at the entrance a forest of dingy pillars beside a massive door. the door is thrown open by a sullen monk, and a huge courtyard is revealed with more dingy pillars that were once red. the entire wall is covered with paintings of buddhist myth and symbolism. the colours are subdued and pleasing. in the centre of the yard are masses of hollyhocks, marigolds, nasturtiums, and stocks. beside the flower-borders is a pyramidical structure in which are burnt the leaves of juniper and pine for sacrifice. the cloisters are two-storied; on the upper floor the monks have their cells. looking up, one can see hundreds of them gazing at us with interest over the banisters. the upper story, as in every temple in tibet, is coated with a dark red substance which looks like rough paint, but is really sacred earth, pasted on to evenly-clipped brushwood so as to seem like a continuation of the masonry. on the face of the wall are emblems in gilt, buddhist symbols, like our prince of wales's feathers, sun and crescent moon, and various other devices. a heavy curtain of yak-hair hangs above the entrance-gate. on the roof are large cylinders draped in yak-hair cloth topped by a crescent or a spear. every monastery and jong, and most houses in tibet, are ornamented with these. when one first sees them in the distance they look like men walking on the roof. generally one ascends steps from the outer courtyard to the temple, but in the jokhang the floors are level. we enter the main temple by a dark passage. the great doorway that opens into the street has been closed behind us, but we leave a company of pathans in the outer yard, as the monks are sullen. our party of four is armed with revolvers. service is being held before the great buddhas as we enter, and a thunderous harmony like an organ-peal breaks the interval for meditation. the abbot, who is in the centre, leans forward from his chair and takes a bundle of peacock-feathers from a vase by his side. as he points it to the earth there is a clashing of cymbals, a beating of drums, and a blowing of trumpets and conch shells. then the music dies away like the reverberation of cannon in the hills. the abbot begins the chant, and the monks, facing each other like singing-men in a choir, repeat the litany. they have extraordinary deep, devotional voices, at once unnatural and impressive. the deepest bass of the west does not approach it, and their sense of time is perfect. the voice of the thousand monks is like the drone of some subterranean monster, musically plaintive--the wail of the earth god praying for release to the god of the skies. the chant sounds like the endless repetition of the same formula; the monks sway to it rhythmically. the temple would be dark if it were not for the flickering of many thousands of votive candles and butter lamps. rows upon rows of them are placed before every shrine. in an inner temple we found the three great images of the buddhist trinity--the buddhas of the past, present, and future. the images were greater than life-size, and set with jewels from foot to crown. as in the cloisters of an english cathedral, there were little side-chapels, which held sacred relics and shrines. there were lamps of gold, and solid golden bowls set on altars, and embossed salvers of copper and bronze. a hanging grille of chainwork protected the precincts from sacrilege, and an extended hand, bloody and menacing, was stretched from the wall, terrible enough when suddenly revealed in that dim light to paralyze and strike to earth with fright any profane thief who would dare to enter. in the upper story we found a place which we called 'hell,' where some lamas were worshipping the demon protectress of the grand lama. the music here was harsh and barbaric. there were displayed on the pillars and walls every freak of diabolical invention in the shape of scrolls and devil-masks. the obscene object of this worship was huddled in a corner--a dwarfish abortion, hideous and malignant enough for such rites. all about the lamas' feet ran little white mice searching for grain. they are fed daily, and are scrupulously reverenced, as in their frail white bodies the souls of the previous guardians of the shrine are believed to be reincarnated. in another temple we found the lamas holding service in worship of the many-handed buddha, avalokitesvara. the picture of the god hung from pillars by the altar. the chief lamas were wearing peaked caps picturesquely coloured with subdued blue and gold, and vestments of the same hue. the lesser lamas were bare-headed, and their hair was cropped. when we first entered, an acolyte was pouring tea out of a massive copper pot with a turquoise on the spout. each monk received his tea in a wooden bowl, and poured in barley-flour to make a paste. during this interval no one spoke or whispered. the footsteps of the acolytes were noiseless. only the younger ones looked up at us self-consciously as we watched them from a latticed window in the corridor above. centuries ago this service was ordained, and the intervals appointed to further the pursuit of truth through silence and abstraction. the monks sat there quiet as stone. they had seen us, but they were seemingly oblivious. one wondered, were they pursuing truth or were they petrified by ritual and routine? did they regard us as immaterial reflexes, unsubstantial and illusory, passing shadows of the world cast upon them by an instant's illusion, to pass away again into the unreal, while they were absorbed in the contemplation of changeless and universal truths? or were we noted as food for gossip and criticism when their self-imposed ordeal was done? the reek of the candles was almost suffocating. 'thank god i am not a lama!' said a subaltern by my side. an afridi subadar let the butt of his rifle clank from his boot to the pavement. at these calls to sanity we clattered out of this unholy atmosphere of dreams as if by an unquestioned impulse into the bright sunshine outside. in the bazaar there is a gay crowd. the streets are thronged by as good-natured a mob as i have met anywhere. sullenness and distrust have vanished. officers and men, tommies, gurkhas, sikhs, and pathans, are stared at and criticised good-humouredly, and their accoutrements fingered and examined. it is a bright and interesting crowd, full of colour. in a corner of the square a street singer with a guitar and dancing children attracts a small crowd. his voice is a rich baritone, and he yodels like the tyrolese. the crowd is parted by a shapé riding past in gorgeous yellow silks and brocades, followed by a mounted retinue whose head-gear would be the despair of an operatic hatter. they wear red lamp-shades, yellow motor-caps, exaggerated gainsboroughs, inverted cooking-pots, coal-scuttles, and medieval helmets. and among this topsy-turvy, which does not seem out of place in lhasa, the most eccentrically-hatted man is the bhutanese tongsa penlop, who parades the streets in an english gray felt hat. the mongolian caravan has arrived in lhasa, after crossing a thousand miles of desert and mountain tracks. the merchants and drivers saunter about the streets, trying not to look too rustic. but they are easily recognisable--tall, sinewy men, very independent in gait, with faces burnt a dark brick red by exposure to the wind and sun. i saw one of their splendidly robust women, clad in a sheepskin cloak girdled at the waist, bending over a cloth stall, and fingering samples as if shopping were the natural business of her life. on fine days the wares are spread on the cobbles of the street, and the coloured cloth and china make a pretty show against the background of garden flowers. at the doors of the shops stand pale nuwaris, whose ancestors from nepal settled in lhasa generations ago. they wear a flat brown cap, and a dull russet robe darker than that of the lamas. the cashmiri shopkeepers are turbaned, and wear a cloak of butcher's blue. they and the nuwaris and the chinese seem to monopolize the trade of the city. british officers haunt the bazaars searching for curios, but with very little success. lhasa has no artistic industries; nearly all the knick-knacks come from india and china. cloisonné ware is rare and expensive, as one has to pay for the , miles of transport from peking. religious objects are not sold. turquoises are plentiful, but coarse and inferior. hundreds of paste imitations have been bought. there is a certain sale for amulets, rings, bells, and ornaments for the hair, but these and the brass and copper work can be bought for half the price in the darjeeling bazaar. the few relics we have found of the west must have histories. in the cathedral there was a bell with the inscription 'te deum laudamus,' probably a relic of the capuchins. in the purlieus of the city we found a bicycle without tyres, and a sausage-machine made in birmingham. with the exception of the cathedral, most of the temples and monasteries are on the outskirts of the city. there is a sameness about these places of worship that would make description tedious. only the ramo-ché and moru temples, which are solely devoted to sorcery, are different. here one sees the other soul-side of the people. the ramo-ché is as dark and dingy as a vault. on each side of the doorway are three gigantic tutelary demons. in the vestibule is a collection of bows, arrows, chain-armour, stag-horns, stuffed animals, scrolls, masks, skulls, and all the paraphernalia of devil-worship. on the left is a dark recess where drums are being beaten by an unseen choir. a lama stands, chalice in hand, before a deep aperture cut in the wall like a buttery hatch, and illumined by dim, flickering candles, which reveal a malignant female fiend. as a second priest pours holy water into a chalice, the lama raises it solemnly again and again, muttering spells to propitiate the fury. in the hall there are neither ornaments, gods, hanging canopies, nor scrolls, as in the other temples. there is neither congregation nor priests. the walls are apparently black and unpainted, but here and there a lamp reveals a gorgon's head, a fiend's eye, a square inch or two of pigment that time has not obscured. the place is immemorially old. there are huge vessels of carved metal and stone, embossed, like the roof, with griffins and skulls, which probably date back to before the introduction of buddhism into tibet, and are survivals of the old bon religion. there is nothing bright here in colour or sound, nothing vivid or animated. stricken men and women come to remove a curse, vindictive ones to inflict one, bereaved ones to pay the initiated to watch the adventures of the soul in purgatory and guide it on its passage to the new birth, while demons and furies are lurking to snatch it with fiery claws and drag it to hell. all these beings must be appeased by magic rites. so in the ramo-ché there is no rapture of music, no communion with buddha, no beatitudes, only solitary priests standing before the shrines and mumbling incantations, dismal groups of two or three seated buddha-fashion on the floor, and casting spells to exercise a deciding influence, as they hope, in the continual warfare which is being waged between the tutelary and malignant deities for the prize of a soul. in the chancel of the temple, behind the altar, is a massive pile of masonry stretching from floor to roof, under which, as folk believe, an abysmal chasm leads down to hell. round this there is a dark and narrow passage which pilgrims circumambulate. the floor and walls are as slippery as ice, worn by centuries of pious feet and groping hands. one old woman in some urgent need is drifting round and round abstractedly. elsewhere one might linger in the place fascinated, but here in lhasa one moves among mysteries casually; for one cannot wonder, in this isolated land where the elements are so aggressive, among these deserts and wildernesses, heaped mountain chains, and impenetrable barriers of snow, that the children of the soil believe that earth, air, and water are peopled by demons who are struggling passionately over the destinies of man. i will not describe any more of the lhasa temples. one shrine is very like another, and details would be tedious. personally, i do not care for systematic sightseeing, even in lhasa, but prefer to loiter about the streets and bazaars, and the gardens outside the city, watch the people, and enjoy the atmosphere of the place. the religion of tibet is picturesque enough in an unwholesome way, but to inquire how the layers of superstition became added to the true faith, and trace the growth of these spurious accretions, i leave to archæologists. perhaps one reader in a hundred will be interested to know that a temple was built by the illustrious konjo, daughter of the emperor tai-tsung and wife of king srong-btsan-gombo, but i think the other ninety and nine will be devoutly thankful if i omit to mention it. yet one cannot leave the subject of the lhasa monasteries without remarking on the striking resemblance between tibetan lamaism and the romish church. the resemblance cannot be accidental. the burning of candles before altars, the sprinkling of holy water, the chanting of hymns in alternation, the giving alms and saying masses for the dead, must have their origin in the west. we know that for many centuries large christian communities have existed in western china near the tibetan frontier, and several roman catholic missionaries have penetrated to lhasa and other parts of tibet during the last three centuries. as early as the jesuit father grueber visited lhasa, and recorded that the lamas wore caps and mitres, that they used rosaries, bells, and censers, and observed the practice of confession, penance, and absolution. besides these points common to roman catholicism, he noticed the monastic and conventual system, the tonsure, the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, the doctrine of incarnation and the trinity, and the belief in purgatory and paradise.[ ] [ ] it is interesting to compare grueber's account with the journal of father rubruquis, who travelled in mongolia in the thirteenth century. in he wrote of the lamas: 'all their priests had their heads shaven quite over, and they are clad in saffron-coloured garments. being once shaven, they lead an unmarried life from that time forward, and they live a hundred or two of them in one cloister.... they have with them also, whithersoever they go, a certain string, with a hundred or two hundred nutshells thereupon, much like our beads which we carry about with us; and they do always mutter these words, "om mani pectavi (om mani padme hom)"--"god, thou knowest," as one of them expounded it to me; and so often do they expect a reward at god's hands as they pronounce these words in remembrance of god.... i made a visit to their idol temple, and found certain priests sitting in the outward portico, and those which i saw seemed, by their shaven beards, as if they had been our countrymen; they wore certain ornaments upon their heads like mitres made of paper.' we occasionally saw a monk with the refined ascetic face of a roman cardinal. te rinpoche, the acting regent, was an example. one or two looked as if they might be humane and benevolent--men who might make one accept the gentle old lama in 'kim' as a not impossible fiction; but most of them appeared to me to be gross and sottish. i must confess that during the protracted negociations at lhasa i had little sympathy with the lamas. it is a mistake to think that they keep their country closed out of any religious scruple. buddhism in its purest form is not exclusive or fanatical. sakya muni preached a missionary religion. he was christlike in his universal love and his desire to benefit all living creatures. but buddhism in tibet has become more and more degenerate, and the lamaist church is now little better than a political mechanism whose chief function is the uncompromising exclusion of foreigners. the lamas know that intercourse with other nations must destroy their influence with the people. and tibet is really ruled by the lamas. outside lhasa are the three great monasteries of depung, sera, and gaden, whose abbots, backed by a following of nearly , armed and bigoted monks, maintain a preponderating influence in the national assembly.[ ] these men wield a greater influence than the four shapés or the dalai lama himself, and practically dictate the policy of the country. [ ] 'it may be asked how the monastic influence is brought to bear on a government in which three out of the four principal ministers (shapé) are laymen. the fact seems to be that lying behind the tak lama, the shapés, and all the machinery of the tibetan government, as we have hitherto been acquainted with it, there is an institution called the "tsong-du-chembo," or "tsong-dugze-tsom," which may reasonably be compared with what we call a "national assembly," or, as the word implies, "great assembly." it is constituted of the kenpas or abbots of the three great monasteries, representatives from the four lings or small monasteries actually in lhasa city, and from all the other monasteries in the province of u; and besides this, all the officials of the government are present--laymen and ecclesiastics alike--to the number of several hundreds.'--captain o'connor's diary at khamba jong (tibetan blue-book, ). the three great monasteries are of ancient foundation, and intimately associated with the history of the country. they are, in fact, ecclesiastical universities,[ ] and resemble in many ways our universities of oxford and cambridge. the universities are divided into colleges. each has its own abbot, or master, and disciplinary staff. the undergraduates, or candidates for ordination, must attend lectures and chapels, and pass examinations in set books, which they must learn from cover to cover before they can take their degree. failure in examination, as well as breaches in discipline and manners, are punished by flogging. corporal punishment is also dealt out to the unfortunate tutors, who are held responsible for their pupils' omissions. if a candidate repeatedly fails to pass his examination, he is expelled from the university, and can only enter again on payment of increased fees. the three leading universities are empowered to confer degrees which correspond to our bachelor and doctor of divinity. the monks live in rooms in quadrangles, and have separate messing clubs, but meet for general worship in the cathedral. if their code is strictly observed, which i very much doubt, prayers and tedious religious observances must take up nearly their whole day. but the lamas are adept casuists, and generally manage to evade the most irksome laws of their scriptures. [ ] i have derived most of my information regarding the discipline and constitution of depung from 'lamaism in tibet,' by colonel augustine waddell, who accompanied the expedition as archæologist and principal medical officer. soon after our arrival in lhasa we had occasion to visit depung, which is probably the largest monastery in the world. it stands in a natural amphitheatre in the hillside two miles from the city, a huge collection of temples and monastic buildings, larger, and certainly more imposing, than most towns in tibet. the university was founded in , during the reign of the first grand lama of the reformed church. it is divided into four colleges, and contains nearly , monks, amongst whom there is a large mongolian community. the fourth grand lama, a mongolian, is buried within the precincts. the fifth and greatest dalai lama, who built the potala and was the first to combine the temporal and spiritual power, was an abbot of depung. the reigning dalai lama visits depung annually, and a palace in the university is reserved for his use. the abbot, of course, is a man of very great political influence. all these facts i have collected to show that the monks have some reason to be proud of their monastery as the first in tibet. one may forgive them a little pride in its historic distinctions. even in our own alma mater we meet the best of men who seem to gather importance from old traditions and association with a long roll of distinguished names. what, then, can we expect of this tibetan community, the most conservative in a country that has prided itself for centuries on its bigotry and isolation--men who are ignorant of science, literature, history, politics, everything, in fact, except their own narrow priestcraft and confused metaphysics? we call the tibetan 'impossible.' his whole education teaches him to be so, and the more educated he is the more 'impossible' he becomes. imagine, then, the consternation at depung when a body of armed men rode up to the monastery and demanded supplies. we had refrained from entering the monasteries of lhasa and its neighbourhood at the request of the abbots and shapés, but only on condition that the monks should bring in supplies, which were to be paid for at a liberal rate. the abbots failed to keep their promise, supplies were not forthcoming, and it became necessary to resort to strong measures. an officer was sent to the gate with an escort of three men and a letter saying that if the provisions were not handed over within an hour we would break into the monastery and take them, if necessary, by force. the messengers were met by a crowd of excited lamas, who refused to accept the letter, waved them away, and rolled stones towards them menacingly, as an intimation that they were prepared to fight. as the messengers rode away the tocsin was heard, warning the villagers, women and children, who were gathered outside with market produce, to depart. general macdonald with a strong force of british and native troops drew up within , yards of the monastery, guns were trained on depung, the infantry were deployed, and we waited the expiration of the period of grace intimated in the letter. an hour passed by, and it seemed as if military operations were inevitable, when groups of monks came out with a white flag, carrying baskets of eggs and a complimentary scarf. even in the face of this military display they began to temporize. they bowed and chattered and protested in their usual futile manner, and condescended so far as to say they would talk the matter over if we retired at once, and send the supplies to our camp the next day, if they came to a satisfactory decision. the lamas are trained to wrangle and dispute and defer and vacillate.[ ] they seem to think that speech was made only to evade conclusions. the curt ultimatum was repeated, and the deputation was removed gently by two impassive sepoys, still chattering like a flock of magpies. [ ] the highest degree which is conferred on the lamas by their universities is the rabs-jam-pa (verbally overflowing endlessly).--waddell, 'lamaism in tibet.' in the meanwhile we sat and waited and smoked our pipes, and wondered if there were going to be another guru. it seemed the most difficult thing in the world to save these poor fools from the effects of their obstinate folly. the time-limit had nearly expired, the two batteries were advanced yards, the gunners took their sights again, and trained the -pounders on the very centre of the monastery. there were only five minutes more, and we were stirred, according to our natures, by pity or exasperation or the swift primitive instinct for the dramatic, which sweeps away the humanities, and leaves one to the conflict of elemental passions. at last a thin line of red-robed monks was seen to issue from the gate and descend the hill, each carrying a bag of supplies. the crisis was over, and we were spared the necessity of inflicting a cruel punishment. i waited to see the procession, a group of sullen ecclesiastics, who had never bowed or submitted to external influence in their lives, carrying on their backs their unwilling contribution to the support of the first foreign army that had ever intruded on their seclusion. it must have been the most humiliating day in the history of depung. it must be admitted that it was not a moment when the monks looked their best. yet i could not help comparing their appearance with that of the simple honest-looking peasantry. many of them looked sottish and degraded; other faces showed cruelty and cunning; their brows were contracted as if by perpetual scheming; some were almost simian in appearance, and looked as if they could not harbour a thought that was not animal or sensual. they waddled in their walk, and their right arms, exposed from the shoulder, looked soft and flabby, as if they had never done an honest day's work in their life. one man had the face of an inquisitor--round, beady eyes, puffed cheeks, and thin, tightly-shut mouth. how they hated us! if one of us fell into their hands secretly, i have no doubt they would rack him limb from limb, or cut him into small pieces with a knife. the depung incident shows how difficult it was to make any headway with the tibetans without recourse to arms. we were present in the city to insist on compliance with our demands. but an amicable settlement seemed hopeless, and we could not stay in lhasa indefinitely. what if these monks were to say, 'you may stay here if you like. we will not molest you, but we refuse to accept your terms'? we could only retire or train our guns on the potala. retreat was, of course, impossible. chapter xv the settlement the political deadlock continued until within a week of the signing of the treaty. for a long time no responsible delegates were forthcoming. the shapés, who were weak men and tools of the fugitive dalai lama, protested that any treaty they might make with us would result in their disgrace. if, on the other hand, they made no treaty, and we were compelled to occupy the potala, or take some other step offensive to the hierarchy, their ruin would be equally certain. ruin, in fact, faced them in any case. the highest officials in tibet visited colonel younghusband, expressed their eagerness to see differences amicably settled, and, when asked to arrange the simplest matter, said they were afraid to take on themselves the responsibility. and this was not merely astute evasiveness. it was really a fact that there was no one in lhasa who dared commit himself by an action or assurance of any kind. yet there existed some kind of irresponsible disorganized machine of administration which sometimes arrived at a decision about matters of the moment. the national assembly was sufficiently of one mind to depose and imprison the ta lama, the ecclesiastical member of council. his disgrace was due to his failure to persuade us to return to gyantse. the national assembly held long sessions daily, and after more than a week of discussion they began to realize that there was at least one aim that was common to them all--that the english should be induced to leave lhasa. they then appointed accredited delegates, whose decisions, they said, would be entirely binding on the dalai lama, should he come back. the dalai lama had left his seal with te rinpoche, the acting regent, but with no authority to use it. the terms of the treaty were disclosed to the amban, who communicated them to the tsong-du. the tsong-du submitted the draft of their reply to the amban before it was presented to colonel younghusband. the first reply of the assembly to our demands ought to be preserved as a historic epitome of national character. the indemnity, they said, ought to be paid by us, and not by them. we had invaded their territory, and spoiled their monasteries and lands, and should bear the cost. the question of trade marts they were obstinately opposed to; but, provided we carried out the other terms of the treaty to their satisfaction, they would consider the advisability of conceding us a market at rinchengong, a mile and a half beyond the present one at yatung. they would not be prepared, however, to make this concession unless we undertook to pay for what we purchased on the spot, to respect their women, and to refrain from looting. road-making they could not allow, as the blasting and upheaval of soil offended their gods and brought trouble on the neighbourhood. the telegraph-wire was against their customs, and objectionable on religious grounds. with regard to foreign relations, they had never had any dealings with an outside race, and they intended to preserve this policy so long as they were not compelled to seek protection from another power. the tone of the reply indicates the attitude of the tibetans. obstinacy could go no further. the document, however, was not forwarded officially to the commissioner, but returned to the assembly by the amban as too impertinent for transmission. the amban explained to colonel younghusband that the tibetans regarded the negociations in the light of a huckster's bargain. they did not realize that we were in a position to enforce terms, and that our demands were unconditional, but thought that by opening negociations in an unconciliatory manner, and asking for more than they expected, they might be able to effect a compromise and escape the full exaction of the penalty. the first concession on the part of the tibetans was the release of the two lachung men, natives of sikkim and british subjects, who had been captured and beaten at tashilunpo in july, , while the commission was waiting at khamba jong. their liberation was one of the terms of the treaty. colonel younghusband made the release the occasion of an impressive durbar, in which he addressed a solemn warning to the tibetans on the sanctity of the british subject. the imprisonment of the two men from sikkim, he said, was the most serious offence of which the tibetans had been guilty. it was largely on that account that the indian government had decided to advance to gyantse. the prisoners were brought straight from the dungeon to the audience-hall. they had been incarcerated in a dark underground cell for more than a year, and they knew nothing of the arrival of the english in lhasa until the morning when colonel younghusband told them they were free by the command of the king-emperor. i shall never forget the scene--the bewilderment and delight of the prisoners, their drawn, blanched features, and the sullen acquiescence of the tibetans, who learnt for the first time the meaning of the old roman boast, 'civis romanus sum.' on august colonel younghusband received through the amban the second reply to our demands. the tone of the delegates was still impossible, though slightly modified and more reasonable. several durbars followed, but they did not advance the negociations. instead of discussing matters vital to the settlement, the tibetan representatives would arrive with all the formalities and ceremonial of durbar to beg us not to cut grass in a particular field, or to request the return of the empty grain-bags to the monasteries. the amban said that he had met with nothing but shuffling from the 'barbarians' during his term of office. they were 'dark and cunning adepts at prevarication, children in the conduct of affairs.' the counsellors, however, began to show signs of wavering. they were evidently eager to come to terms, though they still hoped to reduce our demands, and tried to persuade the commissioner to agree to conditions proposed by themselves. throughout this rather trying time our social relations with the tibetans were of a thoroughly friendly character. the shapés and one or two of the leading monks attended race-meetings and gymkanas, put their money on the totalizator, and seemed to enjoy their day out. when their ponies ran in the visitors' race, the members of council temporarily forgot their stiffness, waddled to the rails to see the finish, and were genuinely excited. they were entertained at lunch and tea by colonel younghusband, and were invited to a tibetan theatrical performance given in the courtyard of the lhalu house, which became the headquarters of the mission. on these occasions they were genial and friendly, and appreciated our hospitality. the humbler folk apparently bore us no vindictiveness, and showed no signs of resenting our presence in the city. merchants and storekeepers profited by the exaggerated prices we paid for everything we bought. trade in lhasa was never brisker. the poor were never so liberally treated. one day a merry crowd of them were collected on the plain outside the city, and largess was distributed to more than , . every babe in arms within a day's march of lhasa was brought to the spot, and received its dole of a tanka ( d.). i think the tibetans were genuinely impressed with our humanity during this time, and when, on the eve of our departure, the benign and venerable te rinpoche held his hands over general macdonald in benediction, and solemnly blessed him for his clemency and moderation in sparing the monasteries and people, no one doubted his thankfulness was sincere. the golden buddha he presented to the general was the highest pledge of esteem a buddhist priest could bestow. when, on september , the tibetans, after nearly a month's palaver, had accepted only two of the terms of the treaty,[ ] colonel younghusband decided that the time had come for a guarded ultimatum. he told the delegates that, if the terms were not accepted in full within a week, he would consult general macdonald as to what measures it would be necessary to take to enforce compliance. their submission was complete, and immediate. [ ] the liberation of the lachung men and the destruction of the yatung and gob-sorg barriers. colonel younghusband had achieved a diplomatic triumph of the highest order. if the ultimatum had been given three weeks, or even a fortnight, earlier, i believe the tibetans would have resisted. when we reached lhasa on august , the nepalese resident said that , armed monks had been ready to oppose us if we had decided to quarter ourselves inside the city, and they had only dispersed when the shapés who rode out to meet us at toilung returned with assurances that we were going to camp outside. at one time it seemed impossible to make any progress with negociations without further recourse to arms. but patience and diplomacy conquered. we had shown the tibetans we could reach lhasa and yet respect their religion, and left an impression that our strength was tempered with humanity. the treaty was signed in the potala on august , in the dalai lama's throne-room. the tibetan signatories were the acting regent, who affixed the seal of the dalai lama; the four shapés; the abbots of the three great monasteries, depung, sera, and gaden; and a representative of the national assembly. the amban was not empowered to sign, as he awaited 'formal sanction' from peking. lest the treaty should be afterwards disavowed through a revolution in government, the signatories included representatives of every organ of administration in lhasa. on the afternoon of the th our troops lined the causeway on the west front of the potala. towards the summit the rough and broken road became an ascent of slippery steps, where one had to walk crabwise to prevent falling, and plant one's feet on the crevices of the age-worn flagstones, where grass and dock-leaves gave one a securer foothold. then through the gateway and along a maze of slippery passages, dark as tartarus, but illumined dimly by flickering butter lamps held by aged monks, impassive and inscrutable. in the audience-chamber colonel younghusband, general macdonald, and the chinese amban sat beneath the throne of the dalai lama. on either side of them were the british political officer and tibetan signatories. in another corner were the tongsa penlop of bhutan and his lusty big-boned men, and the dapper little nepalese resident, wreathed in smiles. british officers sat round forming a circle. behind them stood groups of tommies, sikhs, gurkhas, and pathans. in the centre the treaty, a voluminous scroll, was laid on a table, the cloth of which was a union jack. when the terms had been read in tibetan, the signatories stepped forward and attached their seals to the three parallel columns written in english, tibetan, and chinese. they showed no trace of sullenness and displeasure. the regent smiled as he added his name. after the signing colonel younghusband addressed the tibetans: 'the convention has been signed. we are now at peace, and the misunderstandings of the past are over. the bases have been laid for mutual good relations in the future. 'in the convention the british government have been careful to avoid interfering in the smallest degree with your religion. they have annexed no part of your territory, have made no attempt to interfere in your internal affairs, and have fully recognised the continued suzerainty of the chinese government. they have merely sought to insure-- ' . that you shall abide by the treaty made by the amban in . ' . that trade relations between india and tibet, which are no less advantageous to you than to us, should be established as they have been with every other part of the chinese empire, and with every other country in the world except tibet. ' . that british representatives should be treated with respect in future. ' . that you should not depart from your traditional policy in regard to political relations with other countries. 'the treaty which has now been made i promise you on behalf of the british government we will rigidly observe, but i also warn you that we will as rigidly enforce it. any infringement of it will be severely punished in the end, and any obstruction of trade, any disrespect or injury to british subjects, will be noticed and reparation exacted. 'we treat you well when you come to india. we do not take a single rupee in customs duties from your merchants. we allow any of you to travel and reside wherever you will in india. we preserve the ancient buildings of the buddhist faith, and we expect that when we come to tibet we shall be treated with no less consideration and respect than we show you in india. 'you have found us bad enemies when you have not observed your treaty obligations and shown disrespect to the british raj. you will find us equally good friends if you keep the treaty and show us civility. 'i hope that the peace which has at this moment been established between us will last for ever, and that we may never again be forced to treat you as enemies. 'as the first token of peace i will ask general macdonald to release all prisoners of war. i expect that you on your part will set at liberty all those who have been imprisoned on account of dealings with us.' at the conclusion of the speech, which was interpreted to the tibetans sentence by sentence, and again in chinese, the shapés expressed their intention to observe the treaty faithfully.[ ] [ ] the following is a draft of the terms as communicated by _the times_ correspondent at peking. the terms have not yet been disclosed in their final form, but i understand that dr. morrison's summary contains the gist of them: ' . tibetans to re-erect boundary-stones at the tibet frontier. ' . tibetans to establish marts at gyangtse, yatung, gartok, and facilitate trade with india. ' . tibet to appoint a responsible official to confer with the british officials regarding the alteration of any objectionable features of the treaty of . ' . no further customs duties to be levied upon merchandise after the tariff shall have been agreed upon by great britain and the tibetans. ' . no customs stations to be established on the route between the indian frontier and the three marts mentioned above, where officials shall be appointed to facilitate diplomatic and commercial intercourse. ' . tibet to pay an indemnity of £ , in three annual instalments, the first to be paid on january , . ' . british troops to occupy the chumbi valley for three years, or until such time as the trading posts are satisfactorily established and the indemnity liquidated in full. ' . all forts between the indian frontier on routes traversed by merchants from the interior of tibet to be demolished. ' . without the consent of great britain no tibetan territory shall be sold, leased, or mortgaged to any foreign power whatsoever; no foreign power whatsoever shall be permitted to concern itself with the administration of the government of tibet, or any other affairs therewith connected; no foreign power shall be permitted to send either official or non-official persons to tibet--no matter in what pursuit they may be engaged--to assist in the conduct of tibetan affairs; no foreign power shall be permitted to construct roads or railways or erect telegraphs or open mines anywhere in tibet. 'in the event of great britain's consenting to another power constructing roads or railways, opening mines, or erecting telegraphs, great britain will make a full examination on her own account for carrying out the arrangements proposed. no real property or land containing minerals or precious metals in tibet shall be mortgaged, exchanged, leased, or sold to any foreign power. ' . of the two versions of the treaty, the english text to be regarded as operative.' the ninth clause, which precludes russian interference and consequent absorption, is of course the most vital article of the treaty. the next day in durbar a scene was enacted which reminded one of a play before the curtain falls, when the characters are called on the stage and apprised of their changed fortunes, and everything ends happily. among the mutual pledges and concessions and evidences of goodwill that followed we secured the release of the political captives who had been imprisoned on account of assistance rendered british subjects. an old man and his son were brought into the hall looking utterly bowed and broken. the old man's chains had been removed from his limbs that morning for the first time in twenty years, and he came in blinking at the unaccustomed light like a blind man miraculously restored to sight. he had been the steward of the phalla estate near dongste; his offence was hospitality shown to sarat chandra das in . an old monk of sera was released next. he was so weak that he had to be supported into the room. his offence was that he had been the teacher of kawa guchi, the japanese traveller who visited lhasa in the disguise of a chinese pilgrim. we who looked on these sad relics of humanity felt that their restitution to liberty was in itself sufficient to justify our advance to lhasa. on august the amban posted in the streets of lhasa a proclamation that the dalai lama was deposed by the authority of the chinese emperor, owing to the desertion of his trust at a national crisis. temporal power was vested in the hands of the national assembly and the regent, while the spiritual power was transferred to panchen rinpoche, the grand lama of tashilunpo, who is venerated by buddhists as the incarnation of amitabha, and held as sacred as the dalai lama himself. the tashe lama, as he is called in europe, has always been more accessible than the dalai lama. it was to the tashe lama that warren hastings despatched the missions of bogle and turner, and the intimate friendship that grew up between george bogle and the reigning incarnation is perhaps the only instance of such a tie existing between an englishman and a tibetan. the officials of the tsang province, where the tashe lama resides, are not so bigoted as the lhasa oligarchy. it was a minister of the tashe lama who invited sarat chandra das to shigatze, learnt the roman characters from him, and sat for hours listening to his talk about languages and scientific developments. the exile of this man, and the execution of the abbot of dongste, who was drowned in the tsangpo, for hospitality shown to the bengali explorer, are the most recent marks of the difference in attitude between the lhasans and the people of tsang. the present incarnation has not shown himself bitterly anti-foreign. during the operations in tibet he remained as neutral and inactive as safety permitted, and it is not impossible that the hope of mr. ular may be realized, and an anglophile buddhist pope established at shigatze. herein lies a possible simplification of the tibetan problem, which has already lost some of its complexity by the flight of the dalai lama to urga. in estimating the practical results of the tibet expedition, we should not attach too much importance to the exact observance of the terms of the treaty. trade marts and roads, and telegraph-wires, and open communications are important issues, but they were never our main objective. what was really necessary was to make the tibetans understand that they could not afford to trifle with us. the existence of a truculent race on our borders who imagined that they were beyond the reach of our displeasure was a source of great political danger. we went to tibet to revolutionize the whole policy of the lhasa oligarchy towards the indian government. the practical results of the mission are these: the removal of a ruler who threatened our security and prestige on the north-east frontier by overtures to a foreign power; the demonstration to the tibetans that this power is unable to support them in their policy of defiance to great britain, and that their capital is not inaccessible to british troops. we have been to lhasa once, and if necessary we can go there again. the knowledge of this is the most effectual leverage we could have in removing future obstruction. in dealing with people like the tibetans, the only sure basis of respect is fear. they have flouted us for nearly twenty years because they have not believed in our power to punish their defiance. out of this contempt grew the russian menace, to remove which was the real object of the tibet expedition. have we removed it? our verdict on the success or failure of lord curzon's tibetan policy should, i think, depend on the answer to this question. there can be no doubt that the despatch of british troops to lhasa has shown the tibetans that russia is a broken reed, her agents utterly unreliable, and her friendship nothing but a hollow pretence. the british expedition has not only frustrated her designs in tibet: it has made clear to the whole of central asia the insincerity of her pose as the protector of the buddhist church. but the tibetans are not an impressionable people. their conduct after the campaign of shows us that they forget easily. to make the results of the recent expedition permanent, lord curzon's original policy should be carried out in full, and a resident with troops left in lhasa. it will be objected that this forward policy is too fraught with possibilities of political trouble, and too costly to be worth the end in view. but half-measures are generally more expensive and more dangerous in the long-run than a bold policy consistently carried out. we have left a trade agent at gyantse with an escort of fifty men, as well as four or five companies at chumbi and phari jong, at distances of and miles. but no vigilance at gyantse can keep the indian government informed of russian or chinese intrigue in lhasa. lhasa is tibet, and there alone can we watch the ever-shifting pantomime of tibetan politics and the manoeuvres of foreign powers. if we are not to lose the ground we have gained, the foreign relations of tibet must stand under british surveillance. but putting aside the question of vigilance, our prestige requires that there should be a british resident in lhasa. that we have left an officer at gyantse, and none at lhasa, will be interpreted by the tibetans as a sign of weakness. then, again, diplomatic relations with tibet can only continue a farce while we are ignorant of the political situation in lhasa. influences in the capital grow and decay with remarkable rapidity. the lamas are adepts in intrigue. when we left lhasa, the best-informed of our political officers could not hazard a guess as to what party would be in power in a month's time, whether the dalai lama would come back, or in what manner his deposition would affect our future relations with the country. we only knew that our departure from lhasa was likely to be the signal for a conflict of political factions that would involve a state of confusion. the dalai lama still commanded the loyalty of a large body of monks. sera monastery was known to support him, while gaden, though it contained a party who favoured the deposed shata shapé, numbered many adherents to his cause. the only political figure who had no following or influence of any kind was the unfortunate amban.[ ] whatever party gains the upper hand, the position of the chinese amban is not enviable. [ ] the amban or chinese resident in lhasa is in the same position as a british resident in the court of a protected chief in india. of late years, however, the amban's authority has been little more than nominal. at the moment of writing china has not signed the treaty; she may do so yet, but her signature is not of vital importance. the tibetans will decide for themselves whether it is safe to provoke our hostility. if they decide to defy us, then of course trouble may arise from their refusing to recognise the treaty of on the pretext that it was not signed by the amban. it will be remembered that after the campaign of the convention we drew up in calcutta was signed by china, and afterwards repudiated by tibet. for many years the tibetans have ignored china's suzerainty, and refused to be bound by a convention drawn up by her in their behalf; but now the plea of suzerainty is convenient, they may use it as a pretext to escape their new obligations. it is even possible that the amban advised the tibetan delegates in lhasa to agree to any terms we asked, if they wanted to be rid of us, as any treaty we might make with them would be invalid without the acquiescence of china. thus the 'vicious circle' revolves, and a more admirable political device from the chino-tibetan point of view cannot be conceived. but the permanence of the new conditions in tibet does not depend on china. if the tibetans think they are still able to flout us, they will do so, and one pretext will serve as well as another. but if they have learnt that our displeasure is dangerous they will take care not to provoke it again. the success or failure of the recent expedition depends on the impression we have left on the tibetans. if that impression is to be lasting, we must see that our interests are well guarded in lhasa, or in a few months we may lose the ground we gained, with what cost and danger to ourselves only those who took part in the expedition can understand. the end billing and sons limited, guildford. transcriber's note: the following modifications have been made to the text. contents, chapter xii: 'kalimpang' replaced with 'kalimpong'. british bhutan--kalimpong--'the bhutia tat' page : the comma after 'services' replaced with a period. for his good services. when i asked him how he stood with the tibetan government page : 'the of' replaced with 'of the'. mystery of the east. page : 'a' replaced with 'as'. as early as in the forbidden land _times_: "the ordinary reader will be struck with the portraits, which show that in a very few weeks he must have endured a lifetime of concentrated misery. other travellers, no doubt, have gone further, but none who have escaped with their lives have fared worse.... mr. landor tells a plain and manly tale, without affectation or bravado. it is a book, certainly, that will be read with interest and excitement." _athenæum_: "the account he has written of his travels and adventures is vivid and often fascinating. his frequent notices of curious customs are full of interest, and numerous illustrations from photographs or sketches taken on the spot render this one of the most attractive records of travel published recently." _guardian_: "life, according to mr. landor, has 'barely a dull moment,' and the gloomiest of us will admit that this is at least true of that part of life which may be devoted to the reading of his latest book." _world_: "he has contrived, even in circumstances of cruel disadvantage, to present a wonderfully minute and impressive series of pictures of the life, manners, and customs of the tibetans. no less powerful and vivid are his descriptions of the scenery and natural phenomena of the forbidden land, which are reinforced by an ample series of illustrations that attain a high standard of artistic excellence. mr. landor's bitter experiences have had at least the advantage of providing him with material for the most absorbing travel book produced within recent times." _daily telegraph_: "mr. landor's story is one of the most extraordinary tales of modern times, yet even the most sceptical reader will admire the vigour with which it is told, and the endurance with which the explorer and his faithful servants bore up against their savage captors." _standard_: "the book fascinates ... the verbal pictures it gives are extremely vivid, and the effect of them is greatly heightened by the numerous drawings and photographs by the author. mr. landor is an artist as well as traveller and writer, and he knows how to use his pencil and brush to emphasise his letter-press. whatever may be said of the wisdom of his enterprises, his book is certainly a remarkable contribution to the literature of modern travel." _daily news_: "the great library of travel in the east has not received for many a year a more important addition than this bright, picturesque, and instructive volume." _daily chronicle_: "mr. landor is an artist as well as a writer, and this handsome volume is most lavishly illustrated with sketches and photographs. apart from its intense interest as a story of stirring adventure, the book is a valuable storehouse of information on southern tibet and its people, and on the little known indian district of northern kumaon. this is surely a record of devotion to geographical science such as no previous explorer has been able to show." [illustration: a. henry savage landor and his two faithful servants] in the forbidden land an account of a journey in tibet capture by the tibetan authorities imprisonment, torture, and ultimate release by a. henry savage landor author of "_corea, or the land of the morning calm_," "_alone with the hairy ainu_," _etc._ also various official documents, including the enquiry and report by j. larkin, esq., appointed by the government of india _with two hundred and fifty-one illustrations and a map_ london william heinemann _first edition ( vols. vo), october _ _new impression ( vols. vo), november _ _new edition ( vol. vo), may _ _this edition enjoys copyright in all countries signatory to the berne treaty, and is not to be imported into the united states of america._ i dedicate this book to my father & mother preface in this book i have set down the record of a journey in tibet undertaken by me during the spring, summer and autumn of . it is illustrated partly from my photographs and partly from sketches made by me on the spot. only as regards the torture scenes have i had to draw from memory, but it will be easily conceded that their impression must be vivid enough with me. the map is made entirely from my surveys of an area of twelve thousand five hundred square miles in tibet proper. in chapter vi. the altitudes of such high peaks in india as nanda devi and others are taken from the trigonometrical survey, and so are the positions fixed by astronomical observations of the starting and terminating points of my surveys at the places where i entered and left tibet. in the orthography of geographical names i have adopted the course advised by the royal geographical society--viz., to give the names their true sound as they are locally pronounced, and i have made no exception even for the grand and poetic "himahlya" which is in english usually distorted into the unmusical and unromantic word "himalayas." i submit with all deference the following geographical results of my expedition: the solution of the uncertainty regarding the division of the mansarowar and rakstal lakes. the ascent to so great an altitude as , feet, and the pictures of some of the great himahlyan glaciers. the visit to and the fixing of the position of the two principal sources of the brahmaputra, never before reached by a european. the fact that with only two men i was able to travel for so long in the most populated part of tibet. in addition to the above, i am glad to state that owing to the publicity which i gave on my return to the outrageous tibetan abuses taking place on british soil, the government of india at last, in the summer of , notified the tibetan authorities that they will no longer be permitted to collect land revenue from british subjects there. this fact gives me special satisfaction, because of the exceptional courtesy and kindness bestowed on me by our mountain tribesmen, the shokas. the government report of the official investigation of my case, as well as other documents substantiating the details of my narrative, are printed in an appendix. a. h. s. l. _may _ contents preface p. ix list of illustrations p. xxii i from london to naini tal pp. - ii loads--a set of useful pack-saddle cases--provisions and scientific outfit--clothes and shoes--medicines--under way--the first march--servants--how i came to employ faithful chanden sing pp. - iii pithoragarh--fakir women--a well-ventilated abode--askote--the rajiwar and his people pp. - iv the raots--a slippery journey--superstitious notions--anger and jealousy--friends--to the homes of the savages--photography--habitations pp. - v a pilgrim from mansarowar lake--the spirits of the mountains--a safeguard against them--tibetan encampments--the rajiwar--a waterfall--watermills pp. - vi highways and trade routes--the darma route--the dholi river--a rough track connecting two valleys--glaciers--three ranges and their peaks--altitudes--_darma, johar_, and the _painkhanda_ parganas--the highest peak in the british empire--natural boundaries pp. - vii the word _bhot_ and its meaning--tibetan influence--tibetan abuses--the ever-helpful chanden sing--the first shoka village--chanden sing in disgrace--weaving-loom--fabrics--all's well that ends well pp. - viii prayers by wind-power--photography under difficulties--a night of misery--drying up--two lady missionaries--their valuable work--an interesting dinner party--an "eccentric" man's tea party pp. - ix discouraging reports--a steep ascent--how i came to deserve the name of "monkey"--hard at work--promoted in rank--collapse in a gale of wind--time and labour lost pp. - x the _nerpani_, or "waterless track"--exaggerated accounts--a long shot--the rescue of two coolies--picturesque nature--an involuntary shower-bath--the _chai_ pass pp. - xi a series of misfortunes--tibetan atrocities on british subjects--tibetan exactions--revolting cruelty to one of her majesty's subjects--assault on a british officer--a smart british envoy pp. - xii tibetan threats--my birthday--ravenous dogs--a big dinner--shoka hospitality pp. - xiii shoka hospitality--how i obtained much information--on a reconnoitring trip--a terrible slide pp. - xiv a palaver--to see is to believe--dangers and perils on the snow and ice--_thar_ and _ghural_--stalking--a tiring climb to , feet--the collapse of a snow bridge pp. - xv an earthquake--curious notions of the natives--a shoka tailor and his ways--the arrival of silver cash--two rocks in the kali--arrogance of a tibetan spy pp. - xvi the _rambang_--shoka music--love-songs--doleful singing--abrupt ending--solos--smoking--when marriage is contemplated--the _delang_--adultery--punishment pp. - xvii funeral rites: departure of the soul--cremation--amusement of the dead man's soul--the lay figure--feasting--doleful dance--transmigration of the soul--expensive ceremonies--offerings before the lay figure--dancing and contortions--martial dances--solo dances--the animal to be sacrificed and the lay figure--chasing the animal from the village--tearing out its heart--the yak driven over a precipice--head shaving--a sacred cave pp. - xviii touching shoka farewell--feelings curiously expressed--sobs and tears--the start--a funereal procession--distressed father and mother--kachi and dola the worse for drink--anxious moments--the bridge destroyed pp. - xix a dangerous track--perilous passage--a curious bridge over a precipice--pathetic shoka custom--small misadventures--a grand reception--tea for all tastes pp. - xx dr. wilson joins my expedition for a few marches--what misdeeds a photographic camera can do--weighing, dividing, and packing provisions--two extra men wanted--the last friendly faces pp. - xxi the kuti castle--under way--our first disaster--a cheerful and a sulky coolie--mansing--a brigand--a strange medley of followers--a character--tailoring--fields of stones--troublesome rivers--the jolinkan or lebung pass--sense of humour--pleased with small comforts pp. - xxii want of fuel--cooking under difficulty--mansing lost and found--saved from summary justice--tibetan visitors--we purchase sheep--the snow-line--cold streams--the petrified _chapati_ and human hand pp. - xxiii the scout's return--a small exploring party--the mangshan glacier pp. - xxiv snow and troublesome _débris_--the doctor's sufferings--kachi disabled--further trials--a weird apparition--delirium--all safe--the descent pp. - xxv the sources of the kuti river--the lumpiya glacier--the summit of the range--bird's-eye view of tibet--rubso frozen almost to death--the lumpiya pass--two coolies in distress pp. - xxvi mysterious footprints--brigand or spy?--passes and tracks--intense cold--no fuel--a high flat plateau--fuel at last!--two spies in disguise--what they took us for pp. - xxvii lama chokden--a tibetan guard--the sacred kelas--reverence of my men for the sacred mountain--trying hard to keep friends with the gods--_obos_--water flowing to us pp. - xxviii an extensive valley--kiang, or wild horse--their strange ways--the gyanema fort--apprehension at our appearance--a parley--"cut off our heads!"--revolt and murder contemplated--hypocritica ways of tibetan officials--help summoned from everywhere--preparing for war pp. - xxix arrival of a high official--the barca tarjum--a tedious palaver--the tarjum's anxiety--permission to proceed--a traitor--entreated to retrace our steps--thirty armed horsemen--a pretty speech pp. - xxx spying our movements--disguised sepoys--a gloomy look-out--troublesome followers--another march back--an amusing incident pp. - xxxi an attempt that failed--a resolution--a smart shoka lad--the plucky chanden sing proposes to accompany me--mansing the leper becomes my servant's servant pp. - xxxii "devil's camp"--a fierce snowstorm--abandoning our tents--dangers and perils in prospect--collecting the men--one load too many!--another man wanted and found--a propitious night--good-bye to wilson--the escape--brigands pp. - xxxiii s.e. wind--hungry and half frozen--lakes at , feet above sea-level--cold food at high altitudes--buried in snow--mansing's sufferings--fuel at last pp. - xxxiv dacoits--no nonsense allowed--a much-frequented region--a plateau--the gyanema-taklakot track--a dangerous spot--soldiers waiting for us--burying our baggage--out of provisions--a fall into the gakkon river--a bright idea--nettles our only diet pp. - xxxv all that remained of my men's provisions--the plan to enter the fort--appearance of yaks--a band of brigands--erecting fortifications--changes in the temperature--soldiers in search of us pp. - xxxvi "terror camp"--two more messengers leave camp--a tribe of dogpas--a strange sahib--our messengers return from taklakot--the account and adventures of their mission--in great distress--two fakirs who suffered through me--five hundred rupees offered for my head--the shokas want to abandon me--a plot--how it failed pp. - xxxvii a tibetan guard's encampment--nattoo volunteers to be a guide--treachery and punishment of the shokas--all ways forward barred to me--evading the soldiers by another perilous march at night--mansing again lost--a marvellous phenomenon--sufferings of my men--severe cold pp. - xxxviii night marching--the lafan and mafan lakes--tize, the sacred kelas--rhubarb--butterflies--a hermit lama--more dacoits--surrounded by them--routed pp. - xxxix spied and followed by robbers--jogpas' hospitality--hares--tibetan charms resisted--attempt to snatch chanden sing's rifle out of his hands--the ridge between the rakas and mansarowar lakes pp. - xl more robbers--the friends of tibetan authorities--a snap-shot--a meek lot--prepossessing female and her curious ways--the purchase of two yaks pp. - xli tibetan coats, hats, and boots--why a tibetan prefers to leave half the chest and one arm bare--ornamentations--manner and speech--ignorance and superstition--way of eating--jogpa women and children--head-dress pp. - xlii a daku's strange ideas--the ridge between the two lakes--black tents--confronting the two lakes--a chain of high peaks--gombas--change in the weather pp. - xliii the langa tsangpo--a terrific storm--drenched to the skin--heavy marching--against the gods--difficulty in finding the lamasery and village--a bark!--arrival at last--gentle tapping--under a roof pp. - xliv the interior of a _serai_--vermin--fish, local jewellery, and pottery for sale--favourite shapes and patterns--how pottery is made pp. - xlv friendly lamas--chanden sing and mansing purified--mansing's sarcasm--pilgrims to mansarowar and their privileges--for luck!--outside the gomba pp. - xlvi entering the lamasery--the lama's dwelling--novices--were we in a trap?--images--oblations--urghin--the holy water, the veil of friendship, and absolution--musical instruments, books, &c.--god and the trinity--heaven and hell--a mystery pp. - xlvii the jong pen's statements regarding me--sects of lamas--lamaseries--government allowance--ignorance of the crowds--how lamas are recruited--lamas, novices, and menials--dances and hypnotism--infallibility--celibacy and vice--sculptors--prayer-wheels and revolving instruments--nunneries--human bones for eating vessels and musical instruments--blood-drinking pp. - xlviii illnesses and remedies--curious theories about fever--evil spirits--blacksmith and dentist--exorcisms--surgical operations--massage and cupping--incurable illnesses--deformities--deafness--fits and insanity--melancholia--suicides pp. - xlix a tibetan medicine-man--lumbago, and a startling cure for it--combustible fuses--fire and butter--prayers, agony and distortions--strange ideas on medicine pp. - l tucker village--chokdens--houses--flying prayers--soldiers or robbers?--a stampede--fresh provisions--disappointment--treachery--shokas leave me--observations--five men, all counted! pp. - li the start with a further reduced party--a reconnaissance--natural fortress--black tents and animals--on the wrong tack--slings and their use--a visit to a tibetan camp--mistaken for brigands--bargaining and begging pp. - lii what the men were like--their timidity--leather work--metal work--blades and swords--filigree--saddles and harness--pack saddles pp. - liii rain in torrents--a miserable night--a gorge--a gigantic inscription--sheltered under boulders--a fresh surprise--only two followers left pp. - liv my time fully occupied--our own yak drivers--a heavy blow--along the stream--soldiers in pursuit of us--discovered pp. - lv an interview--peace or war?--gifts and the scarf of friendship--the _kata_--the end of a friendly visit pp. - lvi rain in torrents--a swampy plain--the sun at last--our yaks stolen and recovered pp. - lvii travelling tibetans--over a high pass--a friendly meeting--a proffered banquet--ascent to , feet--looking for the gunkyo lake--surprised by a phantom army pp. - lviii a sleepless night--watching our enemy--a picturesque sight--a messenger--soldiers from lhassa--taken for a kashmeree--the gunkyo lake pp. - lix in pleasant company--unpopularity of the lamas--soldiers--towards the maium pass--grass--threats--puzzled tibetans--the maium pass--obos pp. - lx the maium pass--into the yutzang province--its capital--the doktol province--orders disregarded--the sources of the brahmaputra--change in the climate--the valley of the brahmaputra--running risks pp. - lxi expecting trouble--along the brahmaputra--a thunderstorm--a dilemma--a dangerous river--swamped--saved--night disturbers--a new friend pp. - lxii leaving the course of the river--a pass--an arid plain--more vanishing soldiers--another river--a _mani_ wall--_mirage?_--a large tibetan encampment--the chain of mountains north of us pp. - lxiii a commotion--an invitation declined--the tents--delicacies--the _chokseh_ pp. - lxiv refusal to sell food--women--their looks and characteristics--the _tchukti_--a lhassa lady pp. - lxv polyandry--marriage ceremonies--jealousy--divorce--identification of children--courtship--illegitimacy--adultery pp. - lxvi tibetan funerals--disposal of their dead--by cremation--by water--cannibalism--strange beliefs--revolting barbarity--drinking human blood--the saints of tibet pp. - lxvii another commotion--two hundred soldiers--a stampede--easy travelling--a long _mani_ wall--mosquitoes pp. - lxviii washing-day--a long march--_kiang_ and antelope--benighted--the purchase of a goat--ramifications of the brahmaputra--a détour--through a swamp--mansing again lost and found pp. - lxix the alarm given--our bad manners--a peaceful settlement--a large river--gigantic peak--again on marshy soil pp. - lxx another tibetan encampment--uncontrollable animals--a big stream--washed away--in dreadful suspense--rescuing the yak--diving at great altitudes and its effects--how my two followers got across--a precarious outlook and a little comfort pp. - lxxi hungry and worn--a sense of humour--two buckets of milk--no food to be obtained--chanden sing and mansing in a wretched state--their fidelity--exhaustion pp. - lxxii eighty black tents--starved--kindly natives--presents--ando and his promises--a friendly lama--a low pass--my plans pp. - lxxiii strange noises--ando the traitor--purchasing provisions and ponies--a handsome pony--decoyed away from my tent and rifles--pounced upon--the fight--a prisoner pp. - lxxiv chanden sing's plucky resistance--mansing secured--a signal--a treacherous lama--confiscation of baggage--watches, compasses and aneroids--fear and avidity--the air-cushion--dragged into the encampment pp. - lxxv a warning to my men--calm and coolness--the pombo's tent--chanden sing cross-examined and flogged pp. - lxxvi led before the tribunal--the pombo--classical tibetan beyond me--chanden sing lashed--the lamas puzzled--a sudden change in the pombo's attitude pp. - lxxvii my note-books and maps--what the lamas wanted me to say--my refusal--anger and threats--ando the traitor--chanden sing's heroism--a scene of cruelty--rain pp. - lxxviii a high military officer--a likely friend--a soldier and not a lama--his sympathy--facts about the tibetan army pp. - lxxix sarcasm appreciated--kindness--a change for the worse--the place for an englishman--vermin--a tibetan prayer pp. - lxxx the rupun as a friend--treated with respect and deference--fed by the rupun and soldiers--improving my knowledge of tibetan pp. - lxxxi a bearer of bad news--marched off to the mud-house--mansing--insults and humiliations--iron handcuffs instead of ropes--the rupun's sympathy--no more hope--in the hands of the mob pp. - lxxxii a pitiful scene--a struggle to get to chanden sing--brutally treated--a torturing saddle--across country at a gallop--a spirited pony--sand deposits and hills--speculation--more horsemen coming towards us pp. - lxxxiii at an unpleasant pace--drawing near the cavalcade--a picturesque sight--a shot fired at me--terrible effects of the spikes along my spine--the rope breaks--an ill omen--a second shot misses me--arrows--the end of my terrible ride pp. - lxxxiv intense pain--hustled to the execution-ground--stretched and tied--thirsting for blood--a parade of torturing appliances--the music--the _taram_ pp. - lxxxv bleeding all over--insulted and spat upon--"kill him!"--urging on the executioner--refusal to stoop--an unpleasant sword exercise--the execution suspended pp. - lxxxvi mansing arrives--a pretence of killing him--our execution postponed--fed by the lamas pp. - lxxxvii happiness checked--stretched on the rack--mansing shares my fate--drenched and in rags--an unsolved mystery pp. - lxxxviii mansing partially untied after twelve hours on the rack--numbed--how the brain works under such circumstances--my scientific instruments--the end of my photographic plates--a paint-box accused of occult powers--an offer refused--courtesy and cruelty combined pp. - lxxxix an unknown article in tibet--my sponge bewitched--a lama fires my martini-henry--the rifle bursts pp. - xc a consultation--untied from the rack--the most terrible twenty-four hours of my life--i lose the use of my feet--circulation returning--intense pain--sports pp. - xci a great relief--the pombo's attentions--a weird hypnotic dance pp. - xcii compliments exchanged--a poisoned drink proffered--in acute pain--uncertainty as to our fate--working the oracle--my webbed fingers pp. - xciii our lives to be spared--an unpleasant march--chanden sing still alive--a sleepless night--towards the frontier--long and painful marches--how we slept at night--a map drawn with blood pp. - xciv south of the outward journey--severity of our guard--ventriloquism and its effects--terrible but instructive days--the southern source of the brahmaputra--leaving yutzang pp. - xcv easier times--large encampments--suffocating a goat--a tarjum's encampment--tokchim--old friends--musicians--charity pp. - xcvi towards mansarowar--mansing's vision--bathing in mansarowar pp. - xcvii suna--wilson and the political peshkar across the frontier--a messenger--our progress stopped--diverting us over the lumpiya pass--condemned to certain death--we attack our guard--lapsang and the jong pen's private secretary--a document--nearing kardam--retracing our steps--dogmar pp. - xcviii a commotion--the arrival of an army--elected general-in-chief--how we were to slaughter the jong pen's soldiers--my men lay down their arms--towards taklakot--delaling and sibling--taklakot at last pp. - xcix free at last--among friends--forgetting our past troubles--confiscated baggage returned--a scene with nerba--suna's message delivered--how our release was brought about--across the frontier--photography at gungi pp. - c civilisation once more--paralysis--the tinker pass in nepal--kindly natives--mr. larkin--government inquiry--back to tibet--final good-bye to the forbidden land--the return journey--farewell to mansing--home again pp. - appendix pp. - index pp. - heinemann publications and announcements list of illustrations a. henry savage landor and his two faithful servants frontispiece a chinese passport my faithful companion my start from naini tal castle at pithoragarh lepers my abode at askote a young man raot on tree raots head of young man two men with children sitting down a young man raot women of the forest the rajiwar of askote, his brother and son fakir returning from mansarowar the rajiwar and his brother in dandies view of the himahlyas--showing nanda devi and trisul peaks darma shokas and tibetans view of the himahlyas. showing nanda devi and trisul peaks shoka weavers shrine and flying prayers wrinkled shoka lal sing tokudar and his brother house of a wealthy shoka the tent nerpani road the nerpani road the nerpani track the nerpani road the chai-lek (pass) a narrow gorge between two mountains the gates of garbyang matan sing chaprassi narenghiri chaprassi garbyang the house where i stayed at garbyang shoka house with strange ladder shoka houses shoka child smeared with butter which is left to be absorbed in the sun shoka child being smeared with butter the master of a high school, altitude , feet gungi shankom zazzela mount, near gungi involuntary tobogganing chiram kuti snow bridges over the kuti river old shoka woman smoking a well-attended school my banker and agent the valley of garbyang chanden sing and the daku rolling up my bedding motema, a shoka beauty on the way to the rambang shoka earrings silver earrings of tibetan origin with coral beads shoka woman weaving rambang girls with ornaments weeping women under white cloth shoka funeral pile women dusting and caressing the lay figure women dancing round the lay figure dance in front of deceased man's house the goat with soul of deceased being fed goat with soul and clothes of deceased sending the goat away from the village martial dance round lay figure tearing out the heart of the goat yak driven over precipice kachi and his relations the patan summoning my coolies from the roof of his house the chongur bridge previous to being destroyed a perilous passage the photograph that caused the child's death plan of kuti castle the kuti castle mansing the leper showing his hands the jolinkan or lebung pass camping in snow the snow-line at , feet the mangshan glacier the spectre and circular rainbow "i roused the rongba" ascending the lumpiya pass the lumpiya glacier and pass spied my men salaaming kelas at lama chokden the arrival of reinforcements the barca tarjum and his officers "at night i led my men up the mountain in a fierce snowstorm" buried in snow sheep carrying load dacoits with a booty of sheep behind our bulwarks our first view of rakastal rakastal and mansarowar lakes a dacoit the bandits laid down their arms pack-saddles for yaks white woollen coat and sashes woollen socks man's boot, made at sigatz; snow boot woman's boot; boot made in lhassa hat, as worn by officials a black yak a tibetan fortune teller my two yaks silver lhassa coins copper coins; earring worn by men silver charm gold and malachite brooch mansarowar pottery entrance to the tucker temple tucker village and gomba stone with inscription prayer-wheels--ancient and modern. showing rolls of prayers to go inside stone with inscription branch with thorns to prevent return of evil spirits the tokchim tarjum a medicine-man the panku gomba sling a natural castle woman carrying child in basket tibetan young man swords saddle camp with gigantic inscription yak with cases of scientific instruments with only two men i proceeded towards lhassa a kala torrential rain head of brigand brigands with sheep saddle bags phantom-like visitors the gunkyo lake "i am only a messenger" flying prayers on the maium pass matchlocks source of the brahmaputra tibetan dog small mani wall an effect of mirage black tent a dongbo, or tea churn the interior of a tent tsamgo small tsamba bag, carried on the person by tibetans tibetan hair-brushes and flint-and-steel pouch tibetan women and children the tchukti a lady from lhassa money bags woman whose face is smeared with black ointment tibetan woman the lady in question tibetan children a young lama a red lama cup made of a human skull chokden, or tomb of a saint a mani wall on the road to lhassa "and i give you this to make you go back" kiang our yaks sinking in mud carpenter and saddle-maker old woman contrivance for carrying loads rescuing a yak drinking out of a bucket shrine inside tent mud guard-house tibetan bellows a distaff purchasing ponies i was a prisoner rope riding-whip earring worn by high officials dragged into the settlement a spear tibetans overhauling our baggage the pombo's tent chanden sing being lashed the pombo a soldier soldier with pigtail wound round his head an officer purse; flint and steel; snuff-box flint-and-steel pouch leather horse-whip charm-box pukus, or wooden cups soldier laying before me the programme of tortures handcuffs padlock and key "sir, sir, i am dying" spiked saddle nerba firing at me the ride on a spiked saddle coat i wore at the time of my capture, showing effect of spikes a display of various instruments of torture lama musicians the hot iron torture the taram a bannerman the executioner brought the sword down to my neck thus elapsed twenty-four terrible hours belt, with bullet and powder pouches, dagger, needle-case, and flint and steel martini-henry exploded the pombo's contortions the finale of the dance chanden sing tied to a post a white yak map drawn with blood during captivity one of our guard soldier suffocating goat strolling musicians old beggar a tibetan shepherd interior of a serai tea churn (open) a bearer of bad news a shoka tibetan half-caste sheep loads for borax and grain a jumli shed we attacked our guard with stones lapsang and the jong pen's private secretary jumli trader and his wife in tibet cliff habitations chokdens near taklakot taklakot fort pundit gobaria dr. wilson karak sing pal, the political peshkar mansing showing cuts under his feet a glance at the forbidden land from the lippu pass the author, february and october chanden sing's legs, showing marks of lashes and wounds healed mr. j. larkin chanden sing and mansing enjoying their first meal according to the rules of their castes a tibetan temporary shed a shaky passage on the nerpani road view of askote, showing rajiwar's palace snapshot of shoka villagers being routed dr. wilson, myself, mr. larkin, the political peshkar, and jagat sing ready to ascend the lippu pass tinker in nepal on the lippu pass mr. larkin's party and mine halting near the lippu pass mr. larkin looking out for the jong pen from the lippu pass bathing at , feet dharchula. deserted habitations of shokas "i told you," exclaimed the old savage, "that whoever visits the home of the raots will have misfortune" a picturesque bit of almora raots listening to the account of my misfortunes map of south-western tibet, showing author's route and return, journey chapter i from london to naini tal [illustration: a chinese passport] on leaving london, i intended to proceed _viâ_ germany to russia, traverse russian turkestan, bokhara and chinese turkestan, and from there enter tibet. the russian government had readily granted me a special permission to take free of duty through their territory my firearms, ammunition, provisions, photographic cameras, surveying and other scientific instruments, and moreover informed me, through h.e. sir nicholas o'conor, then our ambassador in st. petersburg, that i should be privileged to travel on the military railway through turkestan, as far as the terminus at samarakand. i feel under a great obligation to the russian embassy in london for the extreme courtesy shown me, and i desire to acknowledge this at the outset, especially because that route might very likely have saved me much of the suffering and disappointment i was subjected to through going by way of india. i was provided with introductions and credentials from the marquis of salisbury, the british museum of natural history, etc., i was carrying scientific instruments for the royal geographical society, and i had a british and two chinese passports. having forwarded all my explosives by an ammunition vessel to russia (the german railways absolutely refusing to carry cartridges), i heard to my dismay, only a few days previous to leaving london, that the steamer had stranded just before reaching her port of destination, and that grave doubts were entertained as to the possibility of saving even a portion of her cargo. this was at the time of the outbreak of the turco-greek war, and the russians were reported to be mobilising their troops along the afghan frontier. i did not wish to delay my journey, and although my preparations were complete for going through russia, i nevertheless decided to abandon that plan and go to india, with a view to penetrating over the himahlya into tibet. i sailed for india on march , on the p. and o. ss. _peninsular_, and reached bombay three weeks later. it was my first visit to india, and my first impression was certainly not a good one. the heat was intense, and signs of the plague were discernible everywhere. the streets were deserted and the hotels bad and dirty for want of servants, who had abandoned the town in fear of the scourge. accompanied by a parsee friend, i went to several of the districts of bombay chiefly affected by the disease, but i noticed, wherever i went, little else than a strong odour of disinfectants. it is true there were few houses in those parts which had not ten, twenty, and even more circular red marks, denoting as many deaths, and on one door, which i photographed, i counted no less than forty-nine circles. but i was unable to gauge personally with any sort of accuracy the nature or extent of the disease, beyond seeing in the hospitals a few violent cases of bubonic attacks. on the day following my arrival in bombay, i proceeded by rail to bareilly, which was reached in three days, and from there one more night brought me to kathgodam, the terminus of the railway line. travelling partly by tonga (a two-wheeled vehicle drawn by two horses) and partly on horseback, i found myself at last at naini tal, a hill station in the lower himahlyas and the summer seat of the government of the north-west provinces and oudh, from whence i wrote to the lieutenant-governor, informing him of my intention to proceed to tibet. i also called on the deputy-commissioner and made him fully acquainted with my plans. neither one nor the other of these gentlemen raised the slightest objection to my intended journey into the sacred land of the lamas. chapter ii loads--a set of useful pack-saddle cases--provisions and scientific outfit--clothes and shoes--medicines--under way--the first march--servants--how i came to employ faithful chanden sing. i knew that from naini tal, feet (sixty feet above lake level), all my loads would have to be transported on the backs of coolies, and therefore they had to be divided into equal weights not exceeding twenty-five seers, or fifty pounds. i packed instruments, negatives, and articles liable to get damaged, in cases of my own make designed especially for rough usage. a set of four such cases, of well-seasoned deal wood, carefully joined and fitted, zinc-lined, and soaked in a special preparation of mine by which they were rendered water and air tight, could be made useful in many ways. taken separately, they could be used as seats; four placed in a row answered the purpose of bedstead; three could be used as seat and table; and the combination of four used in a certain manner made a punt or boat of quick, solid, and easy construction, by which an unfordable river could be crossed or soundings taken in the still waters of a lake. the cases could also be used as baths for myself and my followers (if i could induce these to so far indulge), and also in the developing of my negatives as tanks to properly wash my plates. i conjectured even that in case of emergency they might serve as water casks in arid regions, if i should have to traverse any. one of these boxes packed was exactly a coolie load, and two could be easily slung over a pack-saddle by means of straps and rings. it was due mainly to the stoutness and strength of these cases that, notwithstanding the amount of knocking about they got, my photographic and painting work, as well as my maps, instruments, etc., were really in no way injured until we fell into the hands of the tibetans. fortunately, the most important part of my work, from a scientific point of view, had already been accomplished. my provisions were prepared for me by the bovril company after instructions furnished by me, with a view to the severe tibetan climate and the altitudes we should find ourselves in. they contained a vast amount of fat and carbonaceous food, as well as ingredients easily digestible and calculated to maintain one's strength even in moments of unusual stress. i had them packed in tin cases and skin bags. i carried in a water-tight box cartridges for my ° mannlicher rifle, besides cartridges for my revolver, and a number of hunting knives, skinning implements, wire traps of several sizes for capturing small mammals, butterfly nets, bottles for preserving reptiles in alcohol, insect-killing bottles (cyanide of potassium), a quantity of arsenical soap, bone nippers, scalpels, and all other accessories necessary for the collection of natural history specimens. there were three sets of photographic apparatus in my outfit, and one hundred and fifty-eight dozen dry plates, as well as all adjuncts for the developing, fixing, etc. of the negatives as they were taken. the collecting materials were given me by the british museum of natural history, to which institution i had promised to present all specimens of fauna and flora i might collect during my journey. i had two sets of instruments for astronomical observation and for use in surveying (one of which had been furnished me by the royal geographical society), such as the six-inch sextant, hypsometrical apparatus for measuring heights, with boiling-point thermometers specially constructed for very great altitudes; two aneroids, one to , feet, the other to , feet; three artificial horizons (one mercury, the others plate-glass with levels); a powerful telescope with astronomical eyepiece and stand; a prismatic, a luminous, a floating, and two pocket compasses; maximum and minimum thermometers, a case of drawing instruments, protractors, parallel rules, tape rules, a silver water-tight half-chronometer watch and three other watches, section paper in books and in large sheets, raper's and the nautical almanac for and . not to neglect the artistic aspect of my expedition, i had provided myself with ample painting and drawing materials, and i trust to the appearance of my sketches in these volumes to prove that i did not carry them in vain. i was provided with a very light mountain _tente-d'abri_ seven feet long, four feet wide, and three feet high. well accustomed to the sort of travelling i was in for, i decided that i required for myself only a camel-hair blanket in the way of bedding. i reduced my clothing also to a minimum and made no difference in it from start to finish. the only thing i ever missed was my straw hat, which i wore up in the himahlyas just as i had worn it in the broiling plains, because it seemed to me always the most comfortable headgear. it was rendered unwearable through the clumsiness of one of my shokas to whom i had lent it to carry in it some swan eggs (presented by a friendly shoka), and who fell with it, or on it, to the detriment and destruction both of vessel and load. after that i generally went about with my head uncovered, as i only had a small cap left, which was not comfortable. i wore medium thick shoes without nails, and never carried a stick, and i think it was due largely to the simplicity of my personal equipment that i was able, as will be seen presently, to climb to one of the greatest altitudes ever reached by a human being.[ ] my provision of medicines cost me only half-a-crown, firm as i am in the belief that man, living naturally under natural conditions, and giving himself plenty of exercise, can be helped very little by drugs. and thus i started. on the first day i rode from naini tal to almora, thirty miles by the lower and well-known road _viâ_ khairna. almora ( feet) is the last hill station towards the frontier where i expected to find a european, or rather an anglo-indian, community, and i made it my headquarters for a few days. it was my intention to obtain some reliable hill men, possibly gourkhas, to accompany me. i applied in vain for this purpose to the lieut.-colonel of the st rd gourkha regiment quartered in the station, duly showing letters, introductions, and documents from the highest authorities and institutions in england, plainly demonstrating the scientific object of my journey to tibet. the superior authorities seemed open to negotiations had i been able to afford a wait of several months; but, as this would have involved the postponement of my journey for a year on account of the passes leading into tibet becoming impassable at the end of the summer, i decided to snap my fingers at all the red tape the job required, and to start on my journey without the gourkhas. as luck would have it, i came across a gentleman at almora, a mr. j. larkin, who showed me great politeness and gave me much useful information with regard to the roads, the mode of travelling, etc. on the british side of the tibetan frontier. he had himself travelled nearly up to the boundary the previous year, and knew that part of kumaon better than any anglo-indian in the province. in fact, with the exception of colonel grigg, commissioner of kumaon, mr. larkin is the only other official who has any knowledge at all of the north-east of kumaon, now so neglected by the government of the n.w.p. [illustration: my faithful companion] gourkhas being unobtainable, the question weighed heavily on my mind of obtaining plucky, honest, wiry, healthy servants, of whatever caste they might be, who would be ready for the sake of a good salary and a handsome reward to brave the many discomforts, hardships, and perils my expedition was likely to involve. both at naini tal and here scores of servants and shikaris (sporting attendants) offered themselves. they one and all produced "certificates" of good conduct, irreproachable honesty, good-nature and willingness to work, and praises unbounded of all possible virtues that a servant could possess. each certificate was duly ornamented with the signature of a general, a captain, a lieut.-governor, or some other considerable personage, but each bearer of such testimonial seemed sadly neglected by those who had been so enthusiastically pleased with his services, for he invariably commenced by asking for a loan of several rupees to purchase boots and blankets, and to enable him to support a wife with or without a family whom he would be leaving behind. i decided that my means did not permit of my supporting "the dear ones at home" of the two or three dozen followers i should require, and i made up my mind to wait and see whether i could not find men to suit me farther on my road without involving myself in the liability of supporting the entire population i left behind me. i made only one exception. i was sitting one fine day in my room at the dâk bungalow (post resting-house) when an odd creature entered and offered his services, salaaming me. "where are your certificates?" i asked. "_sahib, hum 'certificates' ne hai!_" ("sir, i have no certificates.") "well, then i may employ you." i had previously had a good look at the fellow. his facial lines showed considerably more character and force than i had noticed in the features of other local natives. his attire was peculiar. he wore a white turban, and from under a short velvet waistcoat there protruded a gaudy flannel shirt in yellow and black stripes, which he wore oddly outside of his pyjamas instead of in them. he had no shoes, and carried in his right hand an old cricket stump, with which he "presented arms," as it were, every time that i came in and went out of the room. i at once decided to try him. it was about nine o'clock in the morning, when i, having many people to see, handed chanden sing, for that was his name, a pair of shoes and some blacking. "mind i find them clean when i return." "_acha, sahib_." ("all right, sir!") "you will find some brushes in my room." "_bahut acha, sahib_." ("very good, sir!") i left. at six p.m. when i returned to my quarters i found chanden sing still polishing my footgear with all his might. he had been at it the whole day and had used for the purpose my best hair and clothes brushes. "oh, you _budmash! crab log, pagal!_" ("oh! you bad character! bad man, fool!") i exclaimed, disgusted, making as much display as possible of the only three or four words i then knew of hindustani. i snatched the blackened articles of toilet out of his hands, while he, with an air of wounded feelings, pointed out the wonderful results he had achieved. [illustration: my start from naini tal] it was clear that chanden sing was not much of a valet, neither was he a master at opening soda-water bottles. he generally managed to give you a spray bath if he did not actually shoot the flying cork in your face. it was owing to one (by no means the first) of these accidents that chanden sing, having hit me full, was a few days later flung bodily out of the front door. i am very adverse to the habit of punishing the natives injudiciously and unjustly, but i believe that firm if not too severe a punishment administered in time is absolutely necessary with native servants, and generally saves much trouble and unpleasantness in the end. anyhow chanden sing, none the worse, returned the next day to fetch his cricket stump which he had forgotten in his hurried and involuntary departure. he seized this opportunity to offer his humblest apologies for his clumsiness, and produced the following letter which he had got written in english by a babu in the bazaar: "dear sir,--i am a stupid man, but i hear you intend to take two gourkha soldiers with you to tibet. i am a good and very _stout_ man and therefore far superior to any gourkha. please employ me. "your faithful servant, "chanden sing." this was touching, and i forgave him and allowed him to stay. he improved as time went on, and after a while became quite tolerable. one morning mr. larkin called when chanden sing happened to be about. "who is that?" said larkin. "that is my bearer." "but he is not a bearer! he was once a policeman, and a smart fellow too. he worked out a good case in his own village and had many people arrested and convicted for theft. as a reward they sacked him." "i am thinking of taking him with me." "he is a good lad," replied mr. larkin. "you can anyhow take him as far as the frontier, but i would not advise you to take him into tibet." mr. larkin counselled chanden sing to be diligent and attentive, and the ex-policeman beamed all over with joy when i told him definitely that he might accompany me to bhot. he turned out to be the one plucky man among all my followers, and he stood by me through thick and thin. [ ] see appendix. letter by dr. h. wilson. chapter iii pithoragarh--fakir women--a well-ventilated abode--askote--the rajiwar and his people. the country up to bhot is comparatively well-known, therefore i will not dwell at length on the first portion of my journey. on may all my baggage, accompanied by two _chaprassis_, left on its way to the frontier, and i followed on the next day. two days' marching, at the rate of twenty-five miles a day, brought me to shor, otherwise called pithoragarh. the road is good all the way, running through thick forests of pine and fir trees, and you get here and there pretty views of wooded mountain ranges. nevertheless, it is tiring owing to the many ascents and descents, as will be seen from the following figures showing the principal elevations. from feet we climbed to feet, descended to feet, climbed again up to feet at gangoli hat, and re-descended by a steep incline to feet. the intense heat prevented me from walking at my usual pace, and i did not, therefore, reach my destination before sundown. walking on in the dark, we saw the distant flickering forest fires crawling here and there like incandescent snakes along or up the mountain-side: these are caused by the igniting of the grass, shrubs, and undergrowth by the natives, the flames not unfrequently spreading and playing havoc among the finest trees of the forest. at pithoragarh ( feet) there is the old london gourkha fort to be seen, on a hilltop, also a well-kept leper hospital, a school, and a mission-house. the soil is fertile and there are many stretches of well-cultivated land dotted with habitations. water is plentiful, and though the scenery certainly lacks trees except in the immediate neighbourhood of the villages and houses, it has, nevertheless, a certain picturesqueness on account of its background of wooded mountains. i started from pithoragarh at . a.m.; leaving the road to tal on the left, i followed the track at a medium elevation of feet, arriving at shadgora ( feet) just in time to witness the blessing of a calf by a brahmin. inside a diminutive shrine--into the door of which i was curious enough to peep--i discovered two skinny, repulsive old women, with sunken, discoloured eyes, untidy locks of scanty hair, long unwashed, bony arms and legs, and finger and toe nails of abnormal length. they were clad in a few dirty rags, and were busily attending to the lights burning on several primitive stone candlesticks along the walls of the shrine. there were also some curiously-shaped stones standing upright among the candlesticks. the ceiling of this place of worship was not high enough to allow the women to stand, and they were compelled to crawl about inside on all fours. when they saw me they stretched out their angular arms towards me, begging for money. i gave them a silver coin, which they shoved under one of the peculiar stones, and then, turning round, immediately made violent gestures suggesting to me that i was to depart. [illustration: castle at pithoragarh] farther on i came upon a point where three roads branched off to deolthal (six miles) on the left, to askote (twelve and three-quarter miles) in the centre, and to pithoragarh (eleven and a quarter miles), a different route from the one followed, on the right. i took the middle one, and travelled on in a storm of hail and wind with a constant deafening roar of thunder and splendid flashes of lightning, which produced magical effects on the ever-changing and fantastic clouds and the weird mountain-sides along which i ploughed my way. [illustration: lepers showing stumps of limbs] [illustration: my abode at askote] i arrived late in the evening at askote, where there is neither dâk bungalow nor daramsalla,[ ] and found to my disgust that none of my carriers had yet arrived. i was offered hospitality by pundit jibanand, who put me up in his schoolroom, a structure consisting of a number of planks put together regardless of width, height, length, or shape, and supporting a roof of straw and grass. the ventilation of my abode was all one could wish for, and as during the night i lay wrapped up in my blanket under the sheltering roof, i could admire through the disconnected portions of the walls the brilliancy of the star-studded heaven above. when the sun arose, bits of scenery appeared between plank and plank, until by degrees the gaps were all stopped up by figures of natives, who took possession of these points of vantage to gaze to their hearts' content on the sahib, who, with signs of evident suspense on the part of these spectators, managed even to shave. hilarity, on the other hand, was caused when i smeared myself all over with soap while bathing. admiration followed at my putting on my last starched shirt and other mysterious garments, but the excitement grew almost to fever-heat when i went through the daily nuisance of winding up my watches and registering daily observations of temperature, etc. the strain was too much, i fancy, and a general stampede followed the moment i touched my unloaded rifle. the town of askote is not unlike an old feudal castle such as are found in many parts of central italy. perched on the crown of a central hill, the rajiwar's palace overlooks a fine panorama of mountains encircling it on all sides. among the higher peaks discernible from the palace are the chipla mountain and the dafia. then across the kali river, forming the boundary of nepal, is mount dooti. the "_gown_" or town itself numbers some two hundred houses scattered on the slope of the hill, and includes a school, a post-office, and two mahommedan shops. the rajiwar had on my arrival just completed building a new court, a simple and dignified structure of brown stone, with fine wooden carvings on the windows and doors, and with chimneys in european fashion in each room. one wall in each room was left open, and formed a charming verandah, commanding a magnificent view of mountain scenery. the rajiwar of askote occupies a unique position in kumaon. having repurchased his right to the tenure of land in the askote pargana as late as , he now possesses the right of _zamindar_ (translated literally, _landed proprietor_), and he is the only person to whom has been granted to retain this privilege in the kumaon division. jagat sing pal, the rajiwar's nephew, assured me that the people of the askote pargana are brave and good-natured. they never give any trouble to the rajiwar, who, on the other hand, is almost a father to them. they apply to him in every difficulty, in sickness and distress, and he looks after them in true patriarchal fashion. the rajiwar is not rich, probably because he spends so much for the benefit of his people and of the strangers who pass through askote. many of these are little more than beggars, of course, even when they travel as fakirs, or other religious fanatics, going to or returning from the sacred mansarowar lake in tibet. the present rajiwar,[ ] pushkar pal, belongs to the ramchanda family, and he is a descendant of the solar dynasty. his ancestors lived in aoudh or ayodye (as it was formerly called), whence they migrated to the hills of katyur in kumaon, where they built a palace. the hill regions up to killakanjia and the jumua river were under the raja of katyur's rule, he assuming the title of maharaja. a branch of the family came from katyur to askote, its chief retaining the hereditary title of rajiwar beside that of pal, which each male assumes. the rajiwar pays a yearly tribute of rupees to the government of india. in the time of the gourkhas he paid nothing except occasional gifts of _nafas_ or musk-deer to his neighbour the king of nepal, with whom he is still in very close relation. he was then practically an independent king. still rajiwar pushkar pal has always been perfectly loyal to the government of india. "are the people very obsequious to the rajiwar?" i asked of jagat sing pal. "yes, sir. for instance, when the rajiwar sits on his _karoka_ (a kind of throne) he is saluted with a particularly respectful salaam. his subjects bring their hand up to the forehead and support the elbow with the left hand, as a sign that this salutation is so weighty that it requires the support of the other hand." at court functions, the male relatives, friends, and servants sit near the rajiwar, his brother first, his son next, then his nephews, etc. women are of course not admitted, and although no strict code of etiquette exists, the rajiwar and his family are nevertheless always treated with eastern deference. [ ] _daramsalla_, a stone-walled shelter for the use of travellers and natives. [ ] _rajiwar:_ head of kingdom. chapter iv the raots--a slippery journey--superstitious notions--anger and jealousy--friends--to the homes of the savages--photography--habitations. [illustration: a young man] we had walked seventy-eight miles in three marches, and my men being footsore, i gave them a day's rest, which i employed in going to the haunts of the "wild men of the forest," or _raots_ or _rajis_, as they style themselves. they live in the woods several miles off, and to reach them i had to descend a steep incline covered by an uncommonly slippery carpet of dried grass and pine needles. i had to take off shoes and stockings to get along, and even bare-footed i found it difficult to maintain my hold. i was accompanied by one of my chaprassis and a man from askote, and we were forced down more swiftly than comfortably till we reached a faint track, which we followed until we came upon a man hiding behind some trees. he was a wild-looking creature, naked and unkempt, with flowing hair and scanty beard and moustache, and, regarding us with an air of suspicion, he was most reluctant to show us the way to the homes of his tribe. he was a raot, and his reluctance to let us approach his home seemed justified enough when he said to my guide, "no white man has ever visited our home, and should one ever come we shall all die. the spirits of the mountains will prevent your progress--not we. you will suffer pain, for the spirit who watches over the raots will let no one enter their homes." i gave the man a rupee, which he turned and weighed in his hand. "you can come," he muttered, "but you will regret it. you will have great misfortune." [illustration: raot on tree] there was something so weirdly peculiar in the tone of voice in which the man spoke, as if he had been in a trance, himself only the channel through which the threat of some occult being was conveyed to us, that for some minutes i could not get his words out of my head. i followed him as best i could, for he climbed up huge boulders with the agility of a monkey. it was no easy job, for we bounded and leapt from rock to rock and vaulted over fallen trees. the track became more marked and went up along the incline of a steep ravine. we continued until, hot and panting, we arrived at a large hollow high up in the cliff of clay. there, on a semicircular platform with entrenchments of felled trees, were about a dozen men almost devoid of clothing, some sitting on their heels and resting their arms on their knees, others lying down flat. one fellow smoked dry leaves inside a pipe of hindoo origin. i snatched a photo of the group as, with an air of suspicion mingled with surprise and sadness, but no apparent fear, they stared at the unexpected visitors. two of the elder men having overcome their first stupor sprang to their feet and with mad gesticulations refused to let me come nearer. but i penetrated right into their circle, and found myself surrounded by a sulky and angry crowd. [illustration: raots] "no man has ever been here but a raot. you will soon die. you have offended god!" screamed an old man, in a sudden outburst of temper. he bent his knees and curved his spine, protruding his head towards me. he shook his fists in my face, waved them about in the air, opened and tightly clenched them, digging his nails furiously into his palms. instead of contracting the scalp of his forehead, the old raot raised his eyebrows and turned his polished forehead into a succession of deep wrinkles, stretching in a straight line across almost from ear to ear, and showing only a dark dimple over his nose. his nostrils, flat and broad to begin with, became widely expanded and raised so as to cause two deep lines to diverge from the nose along his cheeks. his mouth was open and a peculiar vacillation of the lower lip demonstrated plainly that its owner had but little command over speech and articulation. his eyes, which may have been brown originally, were discoloured, probably through the abuse of excessive animal powers, to the possession of which the formation of his skull strongly testified, but they assumed extraordinary brilliancy as his fury increased. he opened them wide, apparently with an effort, and showed the entire circle of his iris. the pupils were dilated, notwithstanding that the light upon his face was strong at the time. following his example, some of the rest displayed their discontent in a similar fashion, but others, among whom i especially noticed two youths with sad languishing faces, drooping large eyes, and luxuriant growth of black hair, stood apathetically apart, with head reclining towards the right shoulder, their features perfectly composed, and supporting their chins on their hands. even if they had overcome their stupor, they did certainly not betray it, and appeared perfectly emotionless as far as their countenances were concerned. one fellow with an extraordinary head, a mixture it seemed of a mongolian and a negroid type, was the first to calm himself of those who were so madly excited. with piercing though unsteady eyes, and with nervous twitching movements, he scrutinised my face more closely than the others, and seemed to reassure them all that i had not come to hurt them. he made signs to the rest to desist from their threats, and then, squatting down himself, invited me to follow his example, by sitting on my heels. when the storm had subsided and they had all sat down, i drew out of my pocket some coins and gave one to each of them, with the exception of one man on whom i thought i might study the passion of jealousy in its most primitive form. i watched the man closely, and soon saw him draw apart from the others and become sulky. the others were by now comparatively calm. they seemed predisposed towards sadness, and i could with difficulty extract from any of them more than a very faint sort of a smile. they turned and twisted the coins in their hands, and compared them among one another, jabbering and apparently content. the jealous man kept his head turned away from them determinedly, pretending not to see what was going on, and, resting his chin on his hand, he began to sing a weird, melancholy, guttural song, assuming an air of contempt, especially when the others chaffed him. having allowed him to suffer enough, i gave him two coins instead of one, and with them the satisfaction of the last grin. [illustration: head of young man] i then tried to photograph them, but my camera was looked upon with suspicion, and as plate after plate was exposed in portraying single individuals or groups, they shuddered at each "click" of the spring. "the gods will be angry with you for doing _that_," said a raot, pointing at the camera, "unless you give us a large white coin." i took advantage of this, and promised them as best i could through my guide "two large coins" if they would take me to their huts, some few hundred yards below the lofty eyrie in the cliff, but i must for the sum be allowed not only to see but to touch and have explained to me anything i liked. they consented, and we began our descent of the precipitous track leading to their habitations, a track fit really only for monkeys. several women and children, who had come up attracted by the sight of strangers, joined with the men in giving us a helping hand, and in fact, i believe there cannot have been a single paw in the company that did not at one time or other during the descent clutch some portion of my clothing in the friendliest spirit. holding on to one another, we proceeded in a body, not always at a pleasant pace, down the dangerous cliff. two or three times one of the natives or myself tripped and almost dragged the remainder of the party over the precipice, while the piercing yells and screams of the women seemed to echo back for miles around. i was not sorry when we at last reached the small huts by the river which made up their village. [illustration: two men sitting down with children] the habitations were squalid beyond measure. constructed with a rough frame of tree-branches, fortified by wooden posts and rafters, roofed over with a thatch of dried grass, the majority of them measured about ten feet. they were built against the hillside, a strong bi-forked pole in the centre of the structure supporting the roof, and were usually divided into two sections, so as to give shelter each of them to two families. they contained no furniture, and but few utensils of the most primitive make. there were circular wooden bowls scooped out in the past by means of sharp-edged stones, and more recently by cheap blades, which were of indian manufacture. for such cultivation as they were capable of these people used primitive earth rakes, and they also possessed coarse mallets, sticks, and net bags in which they kept their stores. their staple food in former days was river fish, flesh of wild animals, and roots of certain trees; but they now eat grain also, and, like all savages, they have a craving for liquor. the interior of raot habitations was so primitive and lacking of furniture, that it hardly requires to be described, and the odours that emanated from these huts are also better left to the imagination of the reader. entering one of the dwellings, i found squatted round a fire of wood some women and men, the women wearing silver bangles and glass bead necklaces, the men very little more than string earrings. only one of the men had on as much as a diminutive loin-cloth, and the women had scanty dresses of indian manufacture, obtained in askote. scanning their features carefully, it struck me that in their facial lines many points could be traced which would make one feel inclined to attribute to them a remote mongolian origin, modified largely by the climate, the nature of the country, and probably by intermarriage. in the scale of standard human races the raots stood extremely low, as can be judged from the accompanying photographs. the women, as will be seen, had abnormally small skulls with low foreheads, and although they looked devoid even of a glint of reason, they were actually fairly intelligent. they had high cheek-bones; long, flattish noses, broad and rounded as in the mongolian type. the chin was in most instances round, very receding, though the lips were in their normal position, thin, and very tightly closed with up-turned corners to the mouth. the lower jaw was extremely short and narrow, whereas the upper one seemed quite out of proportion to the size of the skull. their ears were large, outstanding, and unmodelled, but capable of catching sounds at great distances. the men had better heads than the women, underdeveloped yet comparatively well balanced. they had higher and broader foreheads, similar though shorter noses, chins not quite so receding, the whole lower jaw extraordinarily narrow, but the upper lip, as with the women, huge and out of all proportion. undoubtedly the raots are not a pure race, and even among the few i came across variations so considerable occurred as to puzzle one in tracing their origin. they invariably possess luxuriant coal-black hair, which never attains more than a moderate length. it is not coarse in texture, but is usually so dirty that it appears coarser than it really is. they have very little hair on their bodies except in the arm-pits, and their moustaches and beards hardly deserve the name. the men generally part the crop on their head in the middle, so that it flows on either side of the skull, just covering the ears, and i found the same strange custom that i observed years ago among the ainu of yezo of shaving a lozenge-shaped portion of the scalp in the centre of the forehead directly above the nose. the women, using their fingers as a comb, draw their hair to the back of the head and tie it in a knot. the bodies of the better specimens i saw were slight and agile, with no superfluous fat or flesh. supple to a degree, yet solid and muscular, with well-proportioned limbs and a skin of a rich tinge between bronze and terra-cotta colour, these savages, dirty and unclothed as they were, certainly appealed to the artistic side of my temperament, particularly on account of their very majestic deportment. i noticed their regular breathing, which they usually did through the nose, keeping their mouths tightly closed, and also one very curious peculiarity about their feet, viz., the length of the second toe, protruding considerably beyond the others, and giving them no doubt the power of using their toes almost as we should our fingers. the palms of their hands were almost without lines, the finger-nails flat, and their thumbs stumpy with the last phalange curiously short. [illustration: a young man] if the raots to-day have adopted some articles of clothing and ornament, besides altering their diet to a certain extent, it is due entirely to the rajiwar of askote, who, taking a great interest in the tribes he rules over, provides them in a patriarchal way with all sorts of necessaries of life. very few raots have of late years visited askote, as they are of a retiring nature and seem contented with their primitive abodes in the forests of chipula, which they claim as their own. their only occupations are fishing and hunting, and they are said to have a predilection for the flesh of the larger himahlyan monkey, although from my own observation i should have said that they would eat almost anything they could get. it has generally been assumed that the raot women are kept in strict seclusion and hidden from strangers, and i cannot better prove the absurdity of this than by reproducing in these pages one of several photographs of the raot women, for which they posed at my request without the slightest objection from the men. they are generally believed to be chaste, and my photographs prove, i think, that whatever charm they may possess for the raot men, their peculiar beauty offers but little temptation to others. they are rapidly diminishing in numbers, chiefly no doubt on account of constant intermarriage. i was assured that the women are not sterile, but that there is enormous mortality among the young children. they bury their dead, and for several days afterwards offer food and water to the spirit of the departed. i was unable to ascertain what their marriage ceremonies were like, or if they had any to speak of, but it appeared that there was a considerable family feeling among couples living maritally together. they are superstitious and hold in curious awe the spirits of the mountains, the sun, the moon, fire, water, and wind. whether this amounts to a definite form of worship i cannot say: i certainly saw no signs of the offering of prayers or sacrifices. the raots claim to be the descendants of kings, and they refuse allegiance to any one. they will neither salute you nor bow to you. "it is for other people to salute us. our blood is the blood of kings, and though for choice we have for centuries retired to the jungle, we are none the less the sons of kings." after a while, and when i had spent some considerable time among them, these royal savages seemed uncomfortable and apprehensive. i had turned over, examined, drawn or photographed every household article i had seen, had measured every one, male and female, who consented to be measured, and paid them the stipulated money. as i was about to leave, the grey-haired man approached me again. "you have seen the home of the raots. you are the first stranger who has done so, and you will suffer much. the gods are very angry with you." "yes," rejoined another savage, pointing at the ravine, "whoever treads along that track and is not a raot will be afflicted by a great calamity." "_kush paruani, sahib"_ ("never mind, sir"), interrupted the guide, "they are only barbarians, they know no better. i have myself never been here, so i suppose i shall also come in for my share." "you too will suffer," said the old raot, with self-assurance. the raots stood round me silently as i packed up the camera, and i felt that they looked upon me as a man whose fate was settled. they did not acknowledge my farewell, and, had i been in the least superstitious, might have made me thoroughly uncomfortable with their solemn, stolid gravity. [illustration: raot women of the forest] chapter v a pilgrim from mansarowar lake--the spirits of the mountains--a safeguard against them--tibetan encampments--the rajiwar--a waterfall--watermills. having returned to askote from my excursion, i saw while going round the town with jagat sing, in a low stone shed by the side of the palace, the tall gaunt figure of a man emerging from a cloud of smoke. "who is that?" i inquired of my companion. "oh, that is a fakir returning from a pilgrimage to the sacred lake of mansarowar in tibet. many of these fanatics pass through here during the summer on their religious journeys." [illustration: the rajiwar of askote, his brother and son] my curiosity drew me towards the weird individual. he was over six feet in height, and his slim body had been covered with ashes, giving the dark skin a tinge of ghastly grey. i asked him to come out into the light. his masses of long hair had been plaited into small tresses which were wound round his head in the fashion of a turban--the "_tatta_." the hair, too, had been whitened, while the long thin beard had been dyed bright red. his eyes were sunken and, apparently to add to the ghastly and decidedly repulsive effect, his forehead and cheeks were plastered with a thick white paint. he seemed half stupefied, and had very little to say for himself. as can be seen by the illustration, he was scantily clothed, but he wore the _kamarjuri_ or fakir's chain about his loins, and he had a bead bracelet round his arm above the elbow. his waist was encircled with a belt of wooden beads, and a necklace of plaited hair ornamented his neck. he spent his days rolling himself in ashes and enduring self-imposed bodily privations, with a view to attain a state of sanctification. [illustration: fakir returning from mansarowar] rumours had reached me of some curious superstitions prevalent among these mountain folk. "tell me," i said to jagat sing, "are there 'spirits of the mountain' in these ranges? and do the people really believe in them?" "yes, sir," replied the young fellow, "there certainly are a number of them, and they are often very troublesome, especially to certain people. they are seldom known, however, to kill any one." "then they are not quite so bad as some human beings," i replied. "well, sir, they are very bad. they seize sleeping people by the throat with claws like iron, sitting on the chests of their victims." "does not that sound more like an attack of indigestion?" "no, sir. the ghosts of the mountains are the spirits of people that have not gone to heaven. they are to be found in swarms at night in the forest. the people are terrified of them. they haunt the mountain-tops and slopes, and they can assume the semblance of a cat, a mouse, or any other animal; in fact they are said to frequently change their appearance. where no man can tread, among rocks and precipices, or in the thick jungle, the spirits seek their retreat, but often they abandon their haunts to seek for men. the person who becomes possessed generally remains in a semi-conscious condition and ejaculates mad cries and unintelligible words. there are men who profess to know charms to draw them out. some remedies are for that purpose commonly used by the natives with more or less success. a grass called _bichna_ (nettles) has the faculty of frightening the spirits away when applied on the body of the sufferer, but the most effective remedy is to make pretence to beat with a red-hot iron the person possessed. the spirits seem to fear that more than anything else." "do the spirits ever speak?" i inquired, interested in the curious superstitions of these hill men. "no, sir, not often, nor usually directly, but they do it through people who are possessed by them. it is they who tell many strange tales of the spirits. one curious point about them is that they only seize people who are afraid of them. if defied they vanish." "do the natives adopt any special method to protect themselves from these mountain demons?" "fire is the only sure protection. any one sleeping near a fire is safe, and as long as there is a flame blazing the spirits keep away." "do you know any one who has seen them?" "yes. a chaprassi called joga tells of having been compelled to travel at night through a forest: he heard a voice calling him by name. terrified, he stopped, and for some moments his voice failed him. at last, trembling all over, he replied, and instantly a swarm of spirits appeared and challenged him to do them harm. joga ran for his life and the demons vanished. spirits have been known to throw stones at passers-by." "have you ever seen a spirit, jagat sing?" "only once. i was returning to the palace late in the evening when up the steep road i perceived a woman's figure. it was a beautiful moonlight night. i walked up, and as i passed, the face of the strange being appeared black, inhuman and ghastly. i staggered when i saw the weird apparition approach, my blood ran cold with fear. i struck a mighty blow with my stick, but behold! the cane whirled through the air and hit nothing. instantly the ghost vanished." "i wish, jagat sing, that you could show me some of these spirits; i would give anything to make a sketch of them." "you cannot always see them when you want, sir, but they are always to be avoided. they are evil spirits and can do nothing but harm." * * * * * leaving askote ( feet) by the winding road through a dense forest, i crossed by a suspension bridge the gori river at gargia ( feet). the track was along the low and unpleasantly hot valley of the kali river, a raging stream flowing with indescribable rapidity in the opposite direction to that in which i was travelling. it formed the boundary line between nepal and kumaon. huts and patches of cultivation were to be seen on the nepalese side, whereas on our side we came upon deserted and roofless winter dwellings of shokas (usually but not correctly called botiyas) and tibetans, who migrate to these warmer regions to graze their sheep during the colder months of the year. the shoka summer residences are at greater elevations, mostly along the highways to tibet and nearer the tibetan boundary. on arriving at the kutzia daramsalla, a messenger brought me the news that the rajiwar, whom i had missed seeing at askote, was now here for the purpose of making offerings to certain deities. he would call upon me at p.m., so, having some time to spare, i went to bathe in the deliciously cold though, as i found, dangerously rapid stream. swimming was out of the question, and even an immersion bath was attended with a certain amount of risk. the current caused me to lose my footing, and i soon found myself washed with great force against some rocks thirty or forty yards down stream. i came out of the water _minus_ a few patches of skin on my knees and shins, and while drying myself in the sun, received a deputation of the _patan_ (head village man) and other natives, conveying with their most respectful salaams gifts of milk, _kielas_ (bananas), _kakri_ (gigantic cucumbers), and nuts. these hill fellows impressed me as being of a far superior standard to the hindoos of the plains. they were lightly yet strongly built, and showed evidence of both character and dignity. with their fair complexion and luxuriant black hair and moustache they resembled spaniards or southern italians. they lacked entirely the affected manner and falseness of speech and demeanour, so common among the natives who are constantly in contact with europeans. below the daramsalla, near the water-side, was a large tibetan encampment of some twenty or thirty tents which had all originally been white, but were now black with smoke. in these were men, women, and children, with all their paraphernalia; and the first thing that attracted my eye in each tent was the quantity of shiny brass bowls strewn upon the ground, the entire energy of the tent-owners seemingly being spent in keeping these utensils clean and bright, to the utter neglect of their other property. walls of sheep-loads were erected either inside the tent or directly outside, covered in the latter case with cloths in order to protect them from the rain. punctually at p.m. the rajiwar arrived, carried in a _dandy_, and followed by his brother, who sat in a mountain dandy. the rajiwar's son and heir rode a splendid grey pony. i went to assist the old rajiwar to alight, as for some years he had been paralysed. we shook hands heartily, and i led him into the daramsalla ( feet), where in default of furniture we all sat on packing-cases. his refined, well-cut features, his attractive manner, and the soft, dignified voice in which he spoke clearly indicated a man of superior blood and uncommon ability. his modesty and simplicity were delightful. "i hope that your health is good and that you have not suffered too much on your journey. i was grieved not to be in askote to receive you. are your dear parents alive? have you any brothers and sisters? are you married? i would much like to visit england. it must be a wonderful country, and so much do i admire it that i have given my nephews a british education, and one of them is now serving the maharanee (queen) victoria as political peshkar." i answered his questions as best i could with the aid of a hindustani dictionary, expressive gestures, and quick sketches. he spoke of many of our latest inventions with marked interest and intelligence. he seemed greatly struck with my scientific instruments, but he and his people were more particularly attracted by my rifles, revolvers, and other weapons, especially the ° mannlicher, sighted to yards. the rajiwar pressed me to return with him to askote, where he offered to give me tiger, bear, and leopard shooting. tempting as the invitation was, i could not accept it, for my plans would lead me in the opposite direction. his visit lasted for more than three hours; and i was pleased to feel that we parted great friends. [illustration: the rajiwar and his brother in dandies.] on the road to dharchula, along the low-lying valley, the heat was unbearable, although the sun was near the horizon. we came upon a waterfall falling from a great height over a series of umbrella-like stalactites covered with moss. the last rays of the sun shone on the dropping water, brilliant and sparkling as a shower of diamonds. several small rainbows added to the beauty of the scene. i rested some time in this cool and beautiful retreat. there were birds singing and monkeys playing among the trees. farther on, where the river bends, there are two large caves hollowed in the rock; the smoke-blackened ceilings prove that these are used as camping grounds by travelling shokas and hunyas (tibetans). large black-faced, white-bearded monkeys swarmed everywhere, frankly and gladly mischievous. they throw or roll stones down upon the passers-by, often causing accidents, the track being rather narrow and sheer above the river. previous to arriving at the spot where the tsuagar flows into the kali river one meets with many tibetan, humli and rongba encampments. i camped at kalika ( feet) by the side of a gigantic tree with boughs spreading well over the road, the chaprassis and men erecting a comfortable _chöpper_ of mats, foliage, and branches. i was anxious to get through the hot valley with the greatest possible speed, so, notwithstanding that we had halted very late at night, i roused my men at a.m. and again set forth on the march. here and there along the road we passed deserted winter dwellings of shokas, nearly all with broken thatched roofs. some, however, were roofed with slate, the distinctive mark of residence of the darma shokas. the primitive shoka water-mills were curious. by a very ingenious contrivance the water of a stream propelled a heavy cylindrical stone revolving on the top of another. the grain fell slowly from a magazine above into a hole pierced in the centre of the upper wheel, and finding its way through a channel between the two cylinders, was ground into fine flour. dharchula ( _feet_) the largest shoka winter settlement, is situated on a fine stretch of flat land some hundred feet above the river; the village consists of twelve long rows of roofless houses very similar in size and shape. four larger buildings at the extreme limit of the settlement attract notice. one of these is a daramsalla. the others, two high stone buildings, are a school, hospital and dispensary belonging to the methodist episcopal mission and under the careful supervision of miss sheldon, m.d., miss brown, and that wonderful pioneer, dr. h. wilson. a bungalow of the same mission is built higher up on the hillside. between the two spots where from nepal the lachu and the shakta join the kali, was dubart ( feet), and from thence one gradually rose to feet at the relegar river, also a tributary of the larger stream. having crossed the rankuti river i ascended still higher by zigzag walking, slowly leaving behind me range after range of mountains beyond the valley of the river; while on the nepal side, beyond the three nearer ranges, snow peaks of great height and beauty stood out against the sky-line. the highest point on the road was feet, after which we descended to feet at khela daramsalla, which we did not reach till late at night. near khela on the top of a high mountain stood a tall quadrangular rock not unlike a tower. the natives say that a mere touch causes it to shake and revolve, but this belief is not general, for others deny that it ever moves. i could not spare the time to go and test the facts, nor could i obtain reliable information from any one who had had actual experience. so far as i could see with the aid of my telescope, the rock seemed to be standing firmly on a very solid base. to my regret also, i was unable to visit the curious hot sulphur springs on the darma ganga, and the strange cave in which much animal life is lost owing to the noxious gases rising from the ground. i gathered from various reports that this cave or grotto is packed with skeletons of birds and quadrupeds who have unknowingly entered this chamber of death. chapter vi highways and trade routes--the darma route--the dholi river--a rough track connecting two valleys--glaciers--three ranges and their peaks--altitudes--_darma, johar_, and the _painkhanda_ parganas--the highest peak in the british empire--natural boundaries. there are two principal highways from khela to hundes: one by the valley of the dholi or darma river, the other along the kali river and over the lippu pass. [illustration: view of the himahlyas--showing nanda devi and trisul peaks] the trade route _viâ_ darma is less frequented than the one by the lippu, but it is nevertheless of considerable importance, inasmuch as a certain portion of the trade of south-west tibet with india is carried on through the medium of the darma shokas. it consists mainly of borax, salt, wool, skins, cloth, and utensils, in exchange for which the tibetans take silver, wheat, rice, _satoo_, _ghur_, lump candied sugar, pepper, beads of all kinds, and articles of indian manufacture. for a mountain track, and considering the altitudes to which it rises, the darma way is comparatively good and safe, notwithstanding that in following upwards the course of the dholi river the narrow path in many places overhangs deep ravines and precipices. there are many shoka villages and settlements on the banks of the stream, the most important ones being the nyu, sobala, sela, nagling ( feet), bahling ( , feet), sona and tuktung ( , feet), dansu and yansu, where there is a bridge. on the north-east bank is goa, facing dakar, and farther up, at an elevation of , feet, the lissar, a rapid tributary with muddy water. the dholi springs from a series of comparatively small glaciers north-east of a range forming a branch of the higher himahlyan chain, and extending in a south-easterly direction as far as the point where the two streams meet. it receives, on its precipitous descent, many small snow-fed tributaries, those from the katz snowfields and the nui glacier being the most important. its way lies in a tortuous channel amidst rocks and ravines, first tending towards the south-east, then due south, and last south-west down to the point where it is joined by the lissar, coming from the north-west along a line almost parallel on the opposite watershed of the range. [illustration: darma shokas and tibetans] tyang, sipu ( , feet), and marcha ( , feet), are the three most important shoka villages on the lissar. [illustration: view of the himahlyas. showing nanda devi and trisul peaks.] from marcha there is a track connecting the valleys of the lissar and gori. you ascend the high mountain range west of the lissar by skirting the northern edge of the nipchung kang glacier and keeping south of the kharsa glacier, and, on a route that is unpopular on account of its constant difficulties and perils, you pass, as you descend in a westerly direction, the tertcha glacier. south of the shun kalpa glacier you reach first ralem and then sumdu, which is situated on a tributary of the gori river, itself a tributary of the kali. the rugged, barren chain of mountains separating the gori from the lissar extends in a general direction from s.s.e. to n.n.e. up to the ralfo glacier, and there turns in a curve north-west among a succession of perpetual snow-fields and glaciers. the glaciers to the north-east and east of the range outnumber those on the west, but there is one of importance called in its different sections the kala baland, the shun kalpa, and the tertcha. there are, along the fifteen most northerly miles of the range, south of the point where it joins the himahlyan chain, other glaciers of considerable size and importance, but i was not able to ascertain their names, excepting that of the _lissar seva_, the most northern of all, forming the source of the lissar. the inter-lissar-gori range is of considerable geographical importance, not only because it forms the boundary between the two parts of bhot called darma and johar, but also because of the magnificent peaks reaching in the bambadhura an elevation of , feet, and in a higher unnamed peak, south-east of it, , feet. there are also the two kharsa peaks, the one north-west of the glacier bearing its name being , feet, the one south-west of it slightly over , feet, and s.s.w. one peak , feet, another , feet, and farther still, north of the telkot glacier, the highest of all, , feet. in a south-east direction there are peaks , feet, , feet, and , feet high. at the point where the ridge turns south the elevations become lower, the two highest being , feet and , feet, the latter situated at the point where a smaller range branches off to the south-east, the principal range running south for the next eleven or twelve miles, with no very remarkable elevations. in the side range there are peaks of , feet, , feet, , feet, , feet respectively. in lat. ° ' " n. and long. ° ' " e. the range again separates into two secondary ridges, one extending south-east, the other south-west, and in turn both these are again subdivided into minor hill ridges, along which no summits are found surpassing , feet, except the basili, , feet. the bungadhura mountain ( feet), in close proximity to khela, terminates the south-easterly division of the range, separating the pargana of darma from that of askote. the actual boundary line, however, does not follow the higher mountain range as far as the kali river, but swerves to the south along the ridge overlooking the valley of the river relegar. these mountains are called the mangthil. there is west of the above ridge a second and even more important chain, running out parallel to it from the backbone of the himahlyan great mountain system. this second ridge contains the highest mountain in the british empire, nanda devi ( , feet) with its second peak ( , feet), also trisul ( , feet), east trisul ( , feet), and nanda kot ( , feet). this range and its ramifications divide the valleys of the gori river (the pargana of johar) from the most western portion of bhot, the painkhanda pargana. the well-known milam and pindari glaciers are one on the eastern, the other on the south-west side of this range. the milam highway to tibet, frequented by the johari traders, traverses over the kungribingri pass ( , feet), and the uttadhura ( , feet) directly s.s.w. of it into hundes. the pargana painkhanda, a region equally alpine, similarly covered with vast stretches of perpetual snow and extensive glaciers, is in the north-east corner of garwhal, bordering on tibet, and along the dhauli river; intersecting it, another trade route finds its way into western tibet by the niti pass. leaving the course of the dhauli at jelam ( , feet), this track proceeds almost due east, rising to an altitude of , feet on the niti, in lat. ° ' " n. and long. ° ' " e., which is, from all accounts, a very easy pass, and quite free from snow during the summer months. the people of the painkhanda pargana use this pass as well as the other passes of malla shilanch and tumzun, besides the shorhoti, visited by h. r. strachey some years ago, over which, however, only a small portion of the trade with hundes is carried, for it is considered the most dangerous of the three. the cold and turbid waters of the dhauli, swollen by dozens of equally foaming and muddy tributaries, become ultimately the sacred waters of the ganges. the three alpine parganas, viz., the painkhanda, johar, and darma (darma, chaudas, and bias) are inhabited by races closely allied and akin to those of tibet proper. the region is collectively named bhot, although that designation is more particularly applied by the natives of india to that portion of the country which includes darma, bias, and chaudas, and which has for natural boundaries the kali river to the south-east, separating it from nepal and the great himahlyan chain to the north-east, extending from the lissar peak in a general direction of about °. a ramification leaving the main range at the darma pass stretches across from n.n.w. to s.s.e., separating the above-mentioned darma ganga from the kuti river, along which i eventually travelled on my way to tibet. the main elevations found on this ridge are , feet on the darma pass; north-east of the rama glacier a peak , feet; the gurma mountain , feet; and others south of them as high as , feet, , feet, , feet. east of the latter summit is one , feet. chapter vii the word _bhot_ and its meaning--tibetan influence--tibetan abuses--the ever-helpful chanden sing--the first shoka village--chanden sing in disgrace--weaving-loom--fabrics--all's well that ends well! the name _bhot_, pronounced bod, pote, tüpöt, or taipöt, by which this inter-alpine region is called, means tibet. in fact _tibet_ is probably merely a corruption of _tüpöt_. these lofty "pattis" of darma, bias, and chaudas nominally form part of the british empire, our geographical boundary with nari khorsum or hundes (great tibet), being the main himahlyan chain forming the watershed between the two countries. in spite of this actual territorial right, i found at the time of my visit in that it was impossible not to agree with the natives in asserting that british prestige and protection in those regions were mere myths; that tibetan influence alone was dominant and prevailing, and tibetan law enforced and feared. the natives invariably showed abject obsequiousness and servile submission to tibetans, being at the same time compelled to display actual disrespect to british officials. they were driven to bring the greater number of civil and criminal cases before tibetan magistrates in preference to having them tried in a british court. the tibetans, in fact, openly claimed possession of the "pattis" bordering on nari khorsum; and the more obviously to impress our natives with their influence as superior to british, they came over to hibernate on our side, and made themselves quite at home in the warmer valleys and in the larger bazaars. they brought their families with them, and drove before them thousands and thousands of sheep to graze on our pasture-lands; they gradually destroyed our forests in bias to supply south-western tibet with fuel for the summer months. for this they not only paid nothing, but our native subjects had to convey the timber over the high passes without remuneration. necessarily such unprincipled task-masters did not draw the line at extorting from our natives under any pretence money, food, clothes, and everything else they could possibly levy. some were known to travel yearly as far south as lucknow, calcutta, and bombay. [illustration: shoka weavers] so much for the gentleness of the tibetans--a hermit nation living in a closed country! chanden sing, ever anxious to be polite and helpful, would not hear of my carrying my own sketch and note books as had always been my custom, but insisted on doing so himself. "_hum pagal neh!_" ("i am no fool!") said he with an expression of wounded feelings. "i will take great care of them." we started up the steep road, having first descended to the level of the river dholi, feet lower than khela, crossing by a wooden bridge. the zigzag up the mountain-side seemed endless. here and there a cool spring of crystal water quenched our thirst, welcome indeed on that tedious ascent in the broiling sun. six miles above khela we had risen to feet, and from this point the incline became less trying. still we rose to feet two miles farther on, where under the shade of some magnificent old trees, at pungo, i halted for lunch. we had entered the first inhabited village of the shokas, visually but erroneously called botiyas, and were now in that part of their country called chaudas. a pleasant surprise awaited me. a smart-looking lad in european clothes came boldly forward, and, stretching out his hand, shook mine for some considerable time in a jovial and friendly fashion. "i am a christian," said he. "i should say that you were by the way you shake hands." "yes, sir," he proceeded. "i have prepared for you some milk, some _chapatis_ (native bread), and some nuts. please accept them." "thank you," i said. "you do not seem to be a bad christian. what is your name?" "master g. b. walter, sir. i teach in the school." a crowd of shokas had collected. their first shyness having worn off, they proved to be polite and kind. the _naïve_ nature and graceful manner of the shoka girls struck me particularly on this my first introduction to them. much less shy than the men, they came forward, and joked and laughed as if they had known me all their lives. i wished to sketch two or three of the more attractive. "where is my book, chanden sing?" i inquired of my bearer. "_hazur hum mallum neh!_" ("i do not know, sir!") was his melancholy answer as he searched his empty pockets. "ah! you villain! is that the care you take of my notes and sketches? what have you done with them?" "oh sahib, i drank some water at the dholi river. i had the book then in my hand. i must have left it on a stone when i stooped to drink water from the stream," the wretched man explained. it is hardly necessary to say that chanden sing was promptly despatched to the spot he had named, with strict orders not to appear before me again without the book. i spent two or three pleasant hours in having the primitive shoka weaving-looms, the processes of spinning and cloth manufacture, explained to me. as can be seen from the illustration on p. , the weaving looms of the shokas are in every way similar to those used by the tibetans proper, and are quite simple in construction. the warp is kept at great tension, and the cloth-beam on which the woven tissue is rolled rests on the woman's lap during the process of weaving. there are no treadles in the shoka loom, by which the two sets of warp threads are alternately raised or depressed between each time that the transverse thread is passed, and all work is done by hand. the transverse thread is beaten firmly home by means of a heavy prismatic piece of wood. the material used in weaving is yak or sheep's wool, either in its natural colour or dyed in the primary colours of red and blue and yellow, and one secondary only, green. blue and red are used in the greater and equal proportion; then green. yellow is very parsimoniously used. the thread is well twisted and is subjected to no preparation before spinning, leaving thus a certain greasiness in the closely-woven material that renders it waterproof. in weaving colour fabrics several shuttles are used. shoka women are very adept at this ancient art, and they patiently sit out of doors day after day weaving most intricate and artistic patterns. these coloured tissues, if we except the simpler ones with blue ground and lines for women's garments, are usually very narrow (about seven inches in width), whereas the less elaborate ones, such as the white material of which men's clothes are made, average sixteen inches. the patterns in these many-coloured materials are woven from memory, and do not contain curves or circles, but are entirely composed of lines and angles, combinations of small lozenges and squares separated by long tri-coloured parallel lines, forming, so far as weaving is concerned, the main shoka ideas of decoration and ornament. the fabrics are extraordinarily strong. the narrow coloured cloth of better quality is used mostly for making bags in which money and food are carried; the coarser kind for the double sheep-loads. the more talented of the shoka young women show much ingenuity in carpet or rather rug making. they have copied the idea from old chinese rugs which have found their way here _viâ_ lhassa, and though upon close examination it is true they differ considerably in quality and manufacture, they are pleasing enough to the eye. these rugs are woven upon coarse thread matting, the coloured material being let in vertically. a soft surface is obtained not unlike in general appearance to that of persian carpets, but not quite so pleasant to the touch. these small rectangular rugs are offered in the house of shoka gentlemen to guests to sit on, and are also used to render the tibetan saddles less uncomfortable. as time went on i became very anxious as to the missing book, for it contained all my notes of the journey. the thought of its being deposited on a rock washed by a rapid stream into which it might easily slip and be carried away kept me in a state of suspense. at last a staggering figure approached; it was chanden sing waving the book triumphantly in the air. he had run the distance of many miles down to the river and back so quickly that when he reached me he was utterly exhausted. he handed me the book, and once more we started, followed by walter and the whole community, down the steep incline to the river. at this place some of the shokas seized my hands and placed them on their foreheads, at the same time making deep bows. others embraced my feet, while the women folks bade me the usual hindustani "_acha giao_" ("go well"). after some time had been wasted, or at least spent, in receiving these odd salutations, i persuaded them to retrace their steps, and they left me. chapter viii prayer by wind-power--photography under difficulties--a night of misery--drying up--two lady missionaries--their valuable work--an interesting dinner party--an "eccentric" man's tea party. [illustration: shrine and flying prayers] to reach shosha i had to climb a further three miles, which proved almost as steep as the previous ascent to pungo. a curious custom of praying by wind-power, probably borrowed from the tibetans, prevails among the shokas. the tibetans, with a more intense religion than the shokas, use for this purpose not only the wind but even water to propel their praying machines. let me explain these simple mechanical contrivances for prayers. one or more rags or pieces of cloth, usually white, but on occasions red or blue, are fastened and hung by one end to a string stretched across a road, a pass, or a path. on crossing a pass for the first time shokas invariably cut a strip of cloth and place it so that it will flap in the breeze. also when materials for a new dress are purchased or manufactured, it is customary for them to tear off a narrow strip of the stuff and make a flying prayer of it. as long as there is motion in it there is prayer, so that the natives tie them very fast to sticks, poles, or branches of trees; and certain shrubs and trees in weird romantic spots on the mountains are covered with these religious signs. moreover, on the top of nearly every shoka dwelling a vast number of similar little flags can be seen, as well as near their shrines and at the outer gates of a village. i put up at the titela daramsalla, one mile above shosha village. the weather had been threatening for several days, and a steady downpour came upon us during the evening. work had been accumulating daily. i decided to develop the large number of plates i had taken on my journey, a job hateful beyond measure when you are on the move. having duly unpacked all the developing dishes and prepared the different solutions, i set to work to make the shelter completely dark. the next important item required was water, and of this there was plenty in that wretched shanty! i had just developed half-a-dozen negatives, and was delighted at the excellent results, when, in consequence of the storm having grown more violent, the rain began dripping on my head through the leaky roof of the daramsalla. to move all the trays of developers, baths, and fixing solution would have been a nuisance; besides, i was too interested in my work to be put out by such small trifles, so i patiently stood this new discomfort. i shifted my position continually, merely with the result that the rain dripped alternately on my back, my legs, or my shoulders, according to my position. it fell in torrents, and the roof over me was so leaky that i might as well have been out in the open. i was sitting in a pool of water and could not lay my hands upon anything that was not drenched. fortunately my boxes and cases were water-tight, or all the instruments and plates would have been damaged. annoying as it was, i had to give up work. the best thing to do was to go to sleep. easier said than done. my bedding and blanket were soaked. the attempts to lie under a waterproof sheet failed, for i felt suffocated, so i passed the cover to my servant, who, rolling himself in it, was soon in the arms of morpheus. tired and disgusted, i crouched myself up and eventually fell asleep. i woke up in the morning with a biting pain in my toes. i had been lying face downwards, and had involuntarily stretched my legs during the night. i discovered to my horror that one foot rested in the developing bath and the other in the fixing solution, which i had forgotten to empty out of the large celluloid trays. the morning was spent in drying up things in the sun, including our clothes, while we, clad in a "_doti_" (large loin-cloth as used by the natives of india), squatted down in the warmth in order to restore our saturated skins to their natural condition. i was in the meantime interviewed by many shokas, applying for medicines, and wishing to sell their native wares. a pretty girl, from whom i bought a curious set of neck hangings made of musk-deer teeth, wished to be cured of the _goître_, a complaint too common, alas! on these hills. then a child was brought with a nasty tumour in a state of suppuration inside his left ear. others wished to be cured of pains in the stomach and liver, which are very general among them owing to their abuse of liquor. upon hearing that two lady missionaries lived a mile and a half farther on, at sirka, i gave myself the pleasure of calling upon them. they possessed a nice bungalow at an elevation of feet above sea level, by the side of which was another structure for the accommodation of converts and servants. lower on the hillside they had built a dispensary and hospital. [illustration: wrinkled shoka] i was received with the utmost courtesy by miss sheldon, m.d., and miss brown, of the methodist episcopal mission. i have in my lifetime met with many missionaries of all creeds in nearly every part of the globe, but never has it been my luck before to meet two such charming, open-minded, and really hard-working ladies as the two who now so kindly received me. "come right in, mr. landor," said miss sheldon with her delightful american accent, and she shook hands with me in a good, hearty fashion. the natives had praised to me the charity and helpfulness of this lady. i found this more than justified. by night or day she would never refuse help to the sick, and her deeds of kindness which became known to me are far too numerous to detail in these pages. perhaps her most valuable quality is her perfect tact--a quality i have found none too common among missionaries. her patience, her kindly manner towards the shokas, her good heart, the wonderful cures she wrought among the sick, were items of which these honest mountaineers had everlasting praises to sing. a shoka was telling me that it was not an uncommon thing for miss sheldon to give away all her own food supplies, and even the clothes from her back--courting for herself discomfort, yet happy in her good work. with it was combined a charming modesty. no word about herself or her actions ever passed her lips. a pioneer in these parts, she evidently must have encountered much difficulty in the beginning. at present her good influence over the shokas is very considerable. the same can be said of miss brown, who was in every way a worthy comrade of miss sheldon. [illustration: lal sing tokudar and his brother] they have both in a comparatively short time become fully acquainted with the shoka language, and can converse in it as fluently as in english, this fact alone endearing them greatly to the natives. they were kind enough to ask me to dinner. "it is sunday," said miss sheldon, "and we shall have all our christians dining with us. you will not mind, i am sure." i assured her that nothing would interest me more. i arrived punctually at the hour appointed, and on the verandah of the bungalow were laid some nice clean mats upon which we all sat cross-legged in native fashion. we three europeans were provided with knife and fork, but all the natives helped themselves with their fingers, which they used with much dexterity. there were among the converts some hindoos, some shokas, some humlis, and a tibetan woman. all counted, i suppose they were about twenty, and it would be impossible to find a better behaved set of christians anywhere. they ate heartily and only spoke when they were spoken to. "i doubt whether i have ever dined with so many good christians," said i jokingly to miss sheldon. "it is delightful." "they would much like to hear some of the experiences of your travels if you would be kind enough to tell them. that is to say, if you are not too tired and do not mind." interpreted by miss brown, i related some of my adventures in the country of the ainu. rarely have i had such an interested audience. when the story ended they all salaamed me, and an old veteran gourkha, one of the converts, took my hand and shook it warmly. "you must not mind, mr. landor: you see, we treat our christians like ourselves,"[ ] quickly interrupted miss sheldon. "oh no, i do not mind," i replied. "on the contrary, i am glad to see it done." i took my leave and asked the ladies to come to tea with me the next day. the afternoon came and they arrived, when to my horror it flashed across my mind that i had neither cups, nor saucers, nor spoons. i had some tea, but i had no idea in which box it was, and to save my life i could not lay my hands upon it. this caused a frank and delightful remark on the part of miss sheldon to miss brown. "does not mr. landor remind you of 'that other' eccentric gentleman that came through here last year?" the moment she had uttered the words miss sheldon saw what she had said, and we all laughed heartily. "you know, mr. landor," put in miss brown, "we half foresaw that you would not be provided with these articles of luxury, and we brought our own cups and saucers." the news was a great relief to me. "well now, let me persuade you to take some delicious chocolate instead of tea." "very good, we would prefer it. we have not had chocolate for a long time." [illustration: house of a wealthy shoka] a solid block of chocolate was produced weighing twenty-eight pounds, and chanden sing set to chip off bits with a stone--a primitive but effective method. in the meantime the kettle was boiling, while my two visitors made themselves as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances on pack-saddle cases. the tea party went off well, for the ladies, evidently suspecting the "eccentricity" of their host, had come provided not only with cups and saucers, but with spoons, cake, bread, butter, and biscuits! [ ] n.b.--anglo-indians very rarely condescend to shake hands with the natives. chapter ix discouraging reports--a steep ascent--how i came to deserve the name of "monkey"--hard at work--promoted in rank--collapse in a gale of wind--time and labour lost. the weather again became rainy and cold. the reports that i received of the state of the roads farther up were not encouraging. "the track is impassable," said an old shoka who had just arrived from garbyang. "the lippu pass by which you wish to enter tibet is still closed, and there is much snow on it still. then the jong pen of taklakot in tibet, having been left unpunished for his last years' attack on lieutenant gaussen, has now a strong guard of three hundred men to prevent foreigners entering the country. the _dakus_ (brigands) infesting the region of the mansarowar lake seem to be more numerous this year than ever." i shall come in for a lively time, i thought to myself. my next camp was at shankula, feet above the sea level. it was reached by going over a delightfully cool track, not unlike a shady path through a picturesque park, among tall cedars of lebanon, beeches and maples, with here and there a stream or spring of water, and hundreds of black-faced, white-bearded monkeys playing and leaping from tree to tree. i encamped by the river. the day was glorious. in front of me, north-east by east, stood, gigantic and majestic, some high snowy peaks. the valley was narrow, and the remainder of the snowy range of mountains was hidden from sight. what a lovely subject for a picture! i was tempted to halt and get out my paint-box and sketch-book; and abandoning my lunch, which was being cooked, i climbed to the summit of a high peak in order to obtain a more extensive view. the ascent, first on slippery grass, then over slaty rocks, was by no means easy, nor devoid of a certain amount of danger; but so keen was i to get to the top that i reached the summit very quickly, leaving half-way down the mountain slope the two men who had followed me. in places near the top there were rocks to climb that stood almost perpendicular, and it was necessary to use hands as well as feet. it was not unlike climbing up a rough wall. i was nevertheless well repaid for my trouble. the view from that high point of vantage was magnificent, and i confess that i felt almost too ambitious when, having unslung my paint-box, i attempted to reproduce on paper the scene before me. "i am a fool," said i to myself, "to try and paint that! what painter could do those mountains justice?" i dashed off the picture as usual very hastily, but never was a rash venture rewarded with poorer result, and those eternal giants remained unpainted. disconsolate, i made my way down. it was more difficult even than the climb up. a false step, a slip, and it might have cost my life, especially along the steep precipice, where i had to cling to anything projecting in the wall-like rock. i had gone four thousand feet higher than the camp, reaching an elevation of , feet above sea level. it was this performance, watched anxiously from my camp down below, as well as by the army of men belonging to the deputy commissioner of almora, who was also here encamped, that won me the name among the natives of "chota sahib," the "langur," the "small sir," the "monkey," a name of which i have been proud ever since. some seventy-three miles from pithoragarh the shankula river enters the kali, the course of the shankula being roughly from n.n.w. to s.s.e. the track once crossed, the shankula stream tends towards the south-east and with a gentle incline rises to feet at gibti, where i encamped somewhat above the gala daramsalla. i had gone through forests of maple, beech, oak and rhododendrons, with a thick undergrowth of scrub and bamboo. the kali river, about two thousand feet down below my camp, marks the boundary between nepal and kumaon. from this high point the foaming stream can be seen for miles, winding between thickly wooded hills and mountains like a silver ribbon on a dark reposeful background. the march from my last camp was a very short one, so i had the greater part of the day left for work. previously i had usually halted in daramsallas (stone-walled shelters), and in default of these my men put up for me a neatly-made "chahna"[ ] or "chöpper," a hut of mats and branches of trees, in the construction of which the paharis are wonderfully dexterous. i had also my small "mountain tent," a _tente d'abri_, quite comfortable enough for ordinary requirements. [illustration: the tent] it seems, however, that this style of travelling is not considered _comme il faut_ by the officials of india. it is the number and size of one's tents, according to these authorities, that make one a greater or a smaller gentleman! i had put up my tent--three feet high, seven feet long, and four feet wide--by the side of the two double-leaf eighty pound tents of the deputy commissioner, but this official and his companions were far from pleased with this act of familiarity. for a double-tented sahib to be seen in company of another sahib whose bijou tent rose from the ground hardly up to one's waist, was _infra dig_ and a serious threat to the prestige of the british in india. i was therefore politely requested to move from my cosy quarters to a more dignified abode lent me by the one-eyed lal sing, a tokudar[ ] and brother of the patwari.[ ] being thus promoted in everybody's estimation except my own, i wrote and copied out my first article for _the daily mail_, and, having done this, i dined and spent a pleasant evening with mr. g. the night was stormy; the wind shook my tent. i went to sleep wrapped in my solitary camel-hair blanket. some hours later a sharp knock on my head woke me. it was the centre pole of the tent that had moved out of its sockets and had fallen on me. this was followed by a rushing noise of canvas, and i found myself in a moment uncovered and gazing at the stars. there were white things flying about in the air, and, to my horror, i discovered the leaves of my _daily mail_ article scattered in the wind. i jumped up, but of the ten or twelve foolscap leaves on very thin paper, i only managed to recover two or three. the others soared gracefully to and fro in the air, and i suppose settled eventually in the kali. this meant recopying the article next day, a tedious job when you are burning to get on. the sun rose. the camp began to wake up. all were shivering with cold. i took my usual cold bath surrounded by a half-frozen crowd of astonished onlookers, wrapped up in their thick woollen blankets, crouching round me with their chins on their knees. the tent was recovered after a while, and soon all was ready to start. [ ] _chahna_--pahari. _chöpper_, dehsi--hindustani. [ ] _tokudar_--head-village man. [ ] _patwari_--accountant for a pargana. chapter x the _nerpani_, or "waterless track"--exaggerated accounts--a long shot--the rescue of two coolies--picturesque nature--an involuntary shower-bath--the _chai_ pass. the renowned _nerpani_, or _nerpania_, "waterless track," begins at gibti. very few travellers have been on this road, and by the accounts brought back many people have been prevented from imitating their example. [illustration: the nerpani road] personally i found the track far better than i anticipated. i have been on worse mountain roads among less precipitous cliffs. from what i had heard it seemed as if the greater part of the road for several miles was supported on crowbars fixed in the rock, but such is not the case. here and there, however, are found along the track spots overhanging precipices; and where the perpendicular cliff did not allow of a road to be cut except at great expense, crowbars have been more or less firmly planted horizontally in the rock, and a narrow path made over them with large slabs of stone. the drop from the path to the river is often from eighteen hundred to two thousand feet, and the path is in many places no wider than six inches. but to any surefooted traveller that would not constitute a real danger. the road is tedious, for the nerpania cliff along which it has been constructed is subdivided into three smaller cliffs, separated in turn one from the other by ravines. it is thus troublesome to climb up and down some thousands of feet, each time along interminable and badly put together flights of steps, only to descend again on the other side. some of the descents, especially the last to gulamla, are precipitous, but with no nails in one's shoes and no stick in one's hand, there is really very little danger for people accustomed to mountaineering. these are the main elevations on the road: gibti, feet, feet, feet, feet, feet, feet from gulamla. at bearings magnetic °, going close to the river-bed through a gorge, one obtains a fine view of a huge gneiss peak towering on the left side of the _neganza_ or _nejangar_ mountain. this peculiar rock, shaped like a fortress, goes by the name of the ladjekut peak and rises where the nejangar river meets the kali. here we pitched our tents. [illustration: the nerpani road] towards sunset there was much agitation in camp over the appearance of wild goats on the other side of the kali river in nepal. "your rifle, sahib, your rifle!" shouted a chorus of impatient natives. "quick, quick, your rifle!" i seized my mannlicher and followed the excited gang to a place some hundred yards away, where a large boisterous crowd had collected to watch the game. [illustration: the nerpani road] "where are they?" said i, as i could not see anything. "there, there!" they all screamed at the top of their voices, pointing to the summit of the opposite cliff over four hundred yards distant. "oh, that is too far." "no, no, sahib, please shoot," they all implored. [illustration: the nerpani track] i put up the lyman back-sight to four hundred yards, took aim and fired. down came rolling from rock to rock the poor wild goat, amid the frantic excitement of the crowd around me. it rolled down until it came to the shrub and vegetation, where its progress became slower. it fell on the small trees and, bending them by its weight, it would drop a few seconds later on to a lower one. the trepidation on our side was intense. at last the graceful body stuck across a bigger tree and swung on it for some minutes. the oscillation slowly ceased, and tree and goat became motionless. there our prey stuck fast. [illustration: the chai-lek pass] hatchets were immediately produced, and two tall trees hurriedly cut and felled. a bridge was being spanned to cross the dangerous cold and swift waters of the kali. a tree was thrown across, and its point just about reached a high rock on the other side. then, amidst a dead silence, a coolie balanced himself over it. he had nearly reached the opposite bank when there was a crash. the tree broke, and the man was in the water, frightened and screaming pitifully, clutching a branch with convulsive fingers. another coolie went to his rescue, but the tree being now swung by the current, he also was pitched into the water. it was only after a terrible moment of suspense that our men had the common sense to draw the tree back towards the shore. one and all joined in a supreme effort, and the two men were eventually saved. [illustration: a narrow gorge between two mountains] our way to the next camp was first through a high narrow gorge. a beautiful waterfall on terraces faced us. from feet, the road ascended to feet, then on flights of steps and in places over crowbars the weary traveller descended to feet, where at malpa the road was for a space nearly level. the malpa river, running from north to south, was crossed. on the nepal side across the kali the vegetation was luxuriant, while on the kumaon side it was sparse and bare. farther on another beautiful waterfall. the track now rose on a steep incline to feet among huge rocks and boulders. what with the gigantic snow-peaks, the pretty waterfalls, the weird character of the country traversed, one got so interested in one's surroundings that one forgot all about any difficulty of climbing. from barren hills and rocks the track suddenly became clayish and sandy, and in a series of zigzags well shaded by _tchuk, utish_, and _ritch_ trees, with a thick undergrowth of scrub wood and stunted vegetation, we found ourselves down as low as feet, ascending immediately after in a very short distance to feet to camp lahmari. in olden times the path went over the highest part of the cliff, and it took a good walker the whole day to reach from one spring of water to the next, hence the name of "waterless." here practically ended the _nerpani_ (waterless track), and an involuntary shower-bath soon awaited the passer-by, drenching him to the skin, unless he was provided with waterproof and umbrella. the spray descended from a great height for a length of some thirty or forty yards, the road being very narrow and very slippery, so that progress was particularly slow. the name of the waterfall was _takti_. the track, if not more level, was nevertheless better after this to the sore-footed walker. it was less rocky and devoid of the tiresome flights of steps. on leaving lahmari we immediately had a steep rise to feet. then a drop of feet, and we found ourselves on the buddi river, a tributary of the kali. just above the bridge was a magnificent waterfall, by the left side of which we found a kind of grotto hollowed out under a rock. the shokas and tibetans used it as a camping ground. to our right, high up on the cliffside, was the picturesque village of buddi ( feet), with its two- and three-storeyed houses. below and over it in long zigzags could be seen the track ascending to the top of _chai-lek_, or _tcheto_ pass as the shokas call it. at bearings magnetic ° we had the towering namjun peak, so high that i was told it could be seen even from almora and ranikhet. then as we proceeded up the steep clayish track, i could not, on looking back, help admiring the magnificent kali valley with its gigantic cliffs and gorges surmounted by lofty snow peaks. on the _chai_ pass the two aneroids i had on me registered an altitude of , feet. i was now on a small flat tableland. darcy bura, the richest shoka trader from buddi, had erected here a bargain-house for the purchase and exchange of borax, salt, wool, and other articles from tibet. on the left side of the road a large cave in the rock had been walled and partly roofed over for the use of wife-seekers from the villages of buddi and garbyang. these houses were called _rambangs_, and were an old institution among the shokas, of which i shall have occasion to speak at length later on. as everywhere else, a few high poles with flying prayers and a bell had been placed near the pass. chapter xi a series of misfortunes--tibetan atrocities on british subjects--tibetan exactions--revolting cruelty to one of her majesty's subjects--assault on a british officer--a smart british envoy. my arrival at garbyang was watched by hundreds of men, women, and children, all squatting on the edge of the flat mud roofs of their habitations, while a few dozen people followed me respectfully to my camping ground beyond the village. a large tent had been put up for me by pundit gobaria's brother, who had been informed of my coming by anti ram sah, my banker at almora. mr. g., deputy commissioner, arrived later. i was very anxious to make immediate arrangements to enter tibet, but all my efforts to obtain reliable followers were of little avail. i heard to my regret, a day or two later, that the plan of my journey, which with so much trouble and care i had kept secret, had been divulged to the tibetan authorities. misfortunes never come singly! against my will i had been advised to pay a certain sum at almora, in exchange for which i received a letter of credit on pundit gobaria, a rich trader of garbyang, who was to pay me the amount in silver. unluckily, gobaria was still absent in nepal, and no one else could cash a cheque for the amount i wanted. this was tiresome--all the more so as i had counted on the money. i immediately sent a runner to almora to have the sum in silver sent at once. this involved much publicity and considerable risk. also delay was inevitable. all the passes were closed and fresh snow was falling daily. it was just possible with much difficulty for a man to cross the lippu pass, but no baggage could be taken through. i made up my mind to remain a few days in garbyang, and took this opportunity to have a large tibetan tent manufactured to shelter my future followers--if ever i could find any--and it might help me, i calculated, to become friendly with the natives, among whom i hoped to find some willing followers. [illustration: the gates of garbyang] doctor h. wilson, of the methodist evangelical mission, went to much trouble in trying to get together men for me, but though his influence was and is considerable in bias and chaudas, his efforts were not crowned with success. the shokas know well how terribly cruel the tibetans are. they have suffered at their hands more than once, and even of recent years the government of india has had reported by its own officers cases of horrible tortures inflicted by the tibetan authorities on british subjects captured by them on our side of the frontier. some of the atrocities committed by the lamas on british subjects are revolting, and it is a matter of great regret and indignation to the englishmen who visit these regions to think that the weakness of our officials in kumaon has allowed and is allowing such proceedings still to go on. so incapable are they, in fact, that the jong pen of taklakot in tibet sends over, "with the sanction of the government of india," his yearly emissaries to collect land revenue[ ] from british subjects living on british soil. the shokas have to pay this tribute, and do so out of fear--in addition to other taxes and trade dues iniquitously exacted by the tibetans. on the slightest pretext the tibetans arrest, torture mercilessly, fine, and confiscate property of, british subjects on british territory. at the time of my visit there could be seen, in garbyang and other villages, british subjects (shokas) who had been mutilated by the tibetan authorities. even dr. h. wilson, who had erected a dispensary at gungi (one march beyond garbyang), was lately threatened with confiscation--and worse perhaps--if he did not immediately comply with the exactions of the tibetans. he declined to do so and reported the matter to the government, relying on a good rifle in the house and his many servants. his determination not to be intimidated seems to have given him temporary security, for the tibetans are as cowardly, when they think themselves matched, as they are cruel. let me quote one example of cruelty which occurred as late as . a shoka trader, undeniably a british subject, had gone over the border, as is customary with them during the summer, to dispose of his merchandise on the tibetan market. he and another shoka, also a british subject, had a quarrel. aware that the first shoka was wealthy, the tibetan authorities took this pretext to arrest him and impose upon him an exorbitant fine, besides the additional punishment of two hundred lashes to be administered to him by order of the jong pen. the shoka remonstrated on the plea that he had done no harm, and that being a british subject they had no right to so punish him. the jong pen saw his orders executed, and further commanded his men to cut off the wretched prisoner's hands. he was made over to two soldiers entrusted with the carrying out of the sentence. they led him away to the place of punishment. the shoka was of a powerful build and possessed courage. though half dead and covered with wounds, he overcame his guardians and escaped. the alarm was instantly given and a large party of horsemen sent to capture him. they caught him up, and when at close range fired on him and wounded him in the knee, smashing the kneecap. he was surrounded, pounced upon, beaten mercilessly, and last but not least, all his fingers were one by one crushed into pulp between two heavy stones. in this condition he was dragged before the lamas, only to be decapitated! mr. sturt, an able and just officer, who was then deputy commissioner at almora, became acquainted with these facts, and, having fully ascertained their accuracy, reported them to the government, strongly advising immediate action against the tibetans for this and other cruelties that were constantly taking place on our frontier. though it was undeniably proved that the victim was a british subject, the government of india took no steps in the matter. the same year, , lieutenant gaussen, who on a shooting trip tried to enter tibet by the lippu pass, was surrounded by tibetan soldiers, and he and his servants were seriously ill-treated. the british officer received a nasty wound on his forehead, and one of his servants, who behaved heroically, was so cruelly handled that to-day, two years later, i hear he is still an invalid. [illustration: matan sing chaprassi] [illustration: narenghiri chaprassi] [illustration: garbyang] mr. j. larkin, deputy collector at almora, was then despatched to the frontier. no better man could have been sent. firm, just, and painstaking, he became popular and much respected among the shokas. he listened to their troubles and sufferings; he administered justice wherever possible. he refused audience to no one, and during his flying visit became well acquainted with the country, the people, and all that went on. the poor shokas felt much relieved, thinking that at last the tibetan abuses would be put an end to. they were not mistaken, at least for a time. the jong pen of taklakot was called upon to answer for his many misdeeds. he refused an interview. mr. larkin sent word across the border that he would have no trifling and that he must come, upon which the jong pen, with his officers and lamas, crossed the snowy lippu pass. trembling with fear and bending low to the ground, the tibetans, with abject servility, entered the tent of our british envoy. the account of the interview, which i received in full from a shoka gentleman who was present as interpreter, is amusing and curious, showing the mutability and hypocrisy of the tibetans. in the long run, and being well acquainted with the cowardice of his visitors, mr. larkin not only obtained redress on every point but gave the jong pen and his officers a severe harangue. the result of the interview was that the collection of the land revenue should be put a stop to, and that tibetan law should no more be administered on our side of the frontier. mr. larkin's visit to bhot was cut short by urgent orders to return immediately to almora. the following year (the year of my visit, ), mr. g., deputy commissioner, undid much that the previous officer had accomplished. the jong pen, when summoned, declined to come, and sent over deputies in his place. the upshot of it is, that land revenue is again paid by the shokas to the tibetan tax-collectors through the peshkar. i have mentioned these facts as representative of many, and to show how it came that the natives, who had never had any protection from our government, were disinclined, notwithstanding the temptations i offered them, to brave the dangers of tibet. i, who later on suffered so much through being betrayed by shokas, am the first to forgive and not to blame them. though nominally our subjects, their actual rulers are the tibetans, and we do nothing to protect them against the exactions and tortures of the intruders. why then should we expect them to be faithful to us? the shokas are not treacherous by nature, but they are compelled to be deceitful to protect their lives and their homes. properly treated, these honest, gentle, good-natured mountaineers would assuredly become loyal and trustworthy subjects of her majesty. [ ] the sums are now collected by the political peskhar and handed over in garbyang to the tibetans. chapter xii tibetan threats--my birthday--ravenous dogs--a big dinner--shoka hospitality. the jong pen of taklakot, on hearing of my proposed visit, sent threats that he would confiscate the land of any man who came in my employ, besides menaces of "flogging" and subsequent "beheading" of myself and any one caught with me. personally i paid little attention to these intimidations. consulting the calendar one day--a thing i did with great regularity in these regions--i made out that it was the first of june, and i then remembered that the following day would be my birthday. feasts were scarce in these high altitudes, and the prospect before me was that they would in the near future be even scarcer. it therefore occurred to me that i could not better while away a day at least of this weary waiting than by treating myself to a real big feast. [illustration: the house where i stayed at garbyang] chanden sing was despatched round the village to summon up to my tent all the local bunyas (tradespeople). rice, flour, eight pounds of butter (_ghi_), a large quantity of lump sugar, pepper, salt, and a fat sheep were purchased. the latter was forthwith beheaded, skinned, and dressed in the approved fashion by the faithful chanden sing, who was indeed a jack of all trades. unfortunately, i am a careless house or rather tent keeper, and i entrusted my chaprassis with the job of stowing away the provisions, for which purpose a recess under the native low bedstead served to perfection, holding as it did the different-sized vessels, with the _bachri_ (sheep) in pieces, and the rice, flour, butter, etc. while this was being done, i worked away hard at writing, and getting interested, continued at it till an early hour of the morning; i got tired at last, and, wrapping myself up in my blanket, i soon went to sleep next to a heap of stones piled up by the cautious chanden sing. "sahib," had been his warning, "there are many hungry dogs about. if they come, here are a few missiles ready for them!" and he pointed at the ammunition. "all right; good-night." the wisdom of this was soon apparent, for i had not slept long when i was aroused by the hollow sound of lip-smacking, apparently arising from more than one mouth, accompanied by the movement of the stretched canvas bed on which i was lying. jumping to my feet, i alighted upon a living mass of unwelcome guests; but before i even realised what had been going on, they had scampered away, the brutes! carrying between their tightly-closed jaws a last mouthful of my dainties. the ammunition at my disposal was quickly used up--a poor revenge, even when i heard the yell of a dog i happened to hit in the dark. on striking a match, i found the large brass bowls emptied, the rice and flour scattered all over the tent, and the sheep practically vanished. i determined not to be done out of this piece of indulgence, which now seemed desirable beyond words, although i crawled back into my blanket, and found for a while oblivion in sleep. i was no sooner up in the morning than i planned a new banquet. but in the nick of time, mr. g., who had gone a march farther, returned with his escort of policemen, _moonshees_, pundits, and chaprassis. "never mind, landor," said he kindly, when i had told him of my trouble, "you come and dine with me. these chaps shall get you up a special dinner in their own way." my stores were put under tribute, instead of the native bunyas, and we had a very excellent meal indeed. we had bovril soup and irish stew, roast mutton, potted tongue, roast chicken, gigantic swan eggs poached on anchovy toast, jam omelette, chow-chow preserves, ginger biscuits, boiled rhubarb, and i must not forget, by the way, an excellent plum cake of no small dimensions, crammed full of raisins and candy, which i had brought from mrs. g. at almora to her husband, and to which we did, with blessings for her, the fullest justice. [illustration: shoka house with strange ladder] thanks to mr. g. and also to the fortunate coincidence of receiving a batch of letters from parents and friends, which reached me on that day by runner from khela, i do not think that i could have spent a happier birthday anywhere, and i knew well enough that these were to be the last moments of contentment--an end to the fleshpots of egypt. after this i should be cut off from civilisation, from comfort even in its primitive form; and to emphasise this fact, it happened that on the very morning following my birthday, mr. g. left and continued his journey to almora. [illustration: shoka houses] the weather was cold and rain fell in torrents, the thermometer being never above ° during the warmest hours of the day. my soaked tent stood in a regular pool of water, notwithstanding the double trenches round it, and several shoka gentlemen had before asked me to abandon it and live in a house. they were all most anxious to extend to me hospitality, which i, not wishing to trouble them, and in order at all hazards to be entirely free and unhampered in my actions, courteously but firmly declined. nevertheless, quite a deputation arrived on june , renewing their request; but i was determined to have my way. in vain! they would not see a sahib under cold canvas while they themselves had comfortable homes. they held a consultation. unexpectedly, and notwithstanding my remonstrances, my loads were suddenly seized and carried triumphantly on the backs of a long row of powerful shokas towards the village. i had to follow _nolens volens_, and from that day on i grew through constant contact daily more convinced of the genuine friendliness and kindheartedness of these people. to prevent my coming back, they even pulled down the tent, and, wet as it was, carried it away. zeheram and jaimal, two leading shokas, held my hands and patted me on the back as they led me with every sign of courtesy to my new dwelling. this turned out to be a fine two-storeyed building with nicely carved wooden door and windows coloured red and green. so great was the anxiety and fear of these good people that i should turn back at this juncture, that some twenty outstretched hands seized me by the arms, while others pushed me from behind up a flight of ten or twelve steps into the house, where i found myself the guest of my good friend zeheram. i was given the front of the first floor, consisting of two large clean rooms, with a very fair native bedstead, a table and two or more _moras_ (round cane stools covered with skin); and i had no sooner realised that i must stay than presents of sweets, preserved fruit, dried dates, and tea were brought for my acceptance--tea made in the tibetan fashion with butter and salt in it. even if at first i had had slight apprehensions at the expression of such very unusual hospitality, these were soon dispelled, and i was proud to be assured by my host that i was the first englishman (or for that, european or american) who had been allowed to enter the living part of a shoka house and partake of food in a shoka dwelling. the opportunity was too good to be lost, and i was sorely tempted to tarry among them, so as really to get an insight into their mode of living, their customs and manners. [illustration: shoka child smeared with butter which is left to be absorbed in the sun] chapter xiii shoka hospitality--how i obtained much information--on a reconnoitring trip--a terrible slide. they are indeed nature's gentlemen, these worthy shokas, and as such they did all in their power to make my stay among them pleasant. it was a contest between them as to who should entertain me first, and who should be the next. invitations to breakfast and dinner literally poured in; and those convenient "sick headaches," "colds," and "previous engagements," so opportune in more conventional parts, were of no avail here. no card--no friendly note bade one to come and be merry. they generally arrived _en masse_ to fetch me. pulling and pushing played a not unimportant part in their urging, and to decline was thus out of the question. indeed i must confess there was but little inclination to decline on my part. when you arrived, your host spread out fine mats and rugs, of tibetan and ancient chinese manufacture, and often of great value. in front of a raised seat were displayed in shiny brass bowls the various viands and delicacies which constituted the meal. there was rice always; there was curried mutton, milk and curd with sugar; then _chapatis_ made in hindustani fashion and _shale_, a kind of sweet pancake made of flour, _ghi_ (butter), sugar or honey, also _parsad_, a thick paste of honey, burnt sugar, butter and flour, all well cooked together--a dainty morsel even for a jaded palate. i was invariably made to sit on the raised seat, which i did cross-legged, while the crowd squatted respectfully on the floor round the room, forming a semicircle with me in the center. i generally ate with my fingers in their own manner, a courtesy they particularly appreciated, and although i must have seemed awkward to them at first, i soon acquired a sort of dexterity in manipulating hot food--meat and vegetables, for instance--with my hand. the trick is not very difficult, but it requires practice. you gather up your five fingers downwards in the dish, seizing a mouthful, and with a rapid circular twist of the hand you collect as much sauce as you can round the morsel you have caught. with a still more rapid movement, and before anything has time to drip between your fingers, you half drop and half throw it into your mouth. [illustration: shoka child being smeared with butter] i soon found that i could, during these cordial repasts, enlivened as they were by moderate libations of _chökti_ and _syrap_ (wine and spirit distilled from wheat), acquire considerable knowledge of anthropological and ethnological interest, and gather also much valuable information about tibet and its people. they became, in fact, in the few days i spent among them, confiding to such a degree, and looked upon me so much as one of themselves, that i soon obtained the run of the whole place. they came to confide their grievances and troubles; they related to me their legends and folk-lore. they sang to me their weird songs and taught me their dances. they brought me to their marriages and strange funerals; they took me to their sick men, women, and children, or conveyed them to me for cure. thus, to my delight, and with such unique chances, my observations of a pathological, physiological, and anatomical character became more interesting to me day by day, and i have attempted to describe in a later chapter some of the things i was able to note. [illustration: the master of a high school altitude , feet] after lingering in garbyang for several days, i paid off my two chaprassis, matan sing and narenghiri, and they returned to almora. on june i started on a journey towards the frontier, with a view to reconnoitre. crossing into nepal territory below chongur village, and following upwards the right bank of the kali river in a direction of ° (bearings magnetic) i reached kanwa, a shoka village on a high cliff-like plateau under which meet the three rivers kali, taki, and kuti. the kali turns suddenly to ° (bearings magnetic), while the kuti river keeps a general direction of ° (bearings magnetic). having crossed again into kumaon, i struck camp at gungi. before entering the village, i passed dr. wilson's dispensary, not then completed. in the village the houses were decorated with long poles joined by strings, from which hung and flew gaily in the breeze hundreds of wind prayers. the dwellings were mostly of the ancient, pure shoka architecture, and not so fine or so clean as those in garbyang. the place was picturesque, clear-cut against the curious background of the dome-like mountain, the nabi shankom, a peak of uncommon beauty with its grey and reddish striped strata. near it on another mountain is the gungi shankom, a gigantic quadrangular rock of a warm yellow and reddish colour, not unlike a huge tower. when i reached its foot, the sun was casting his last dying rays on it, and the picture was so magical that i was tempted to sketch it. as i sat there, the shadow of the coming night rose higher and higher on the mountain-side, tinting it violet blue, and above it the gungi shankom stood resplendent in all its glory like a tower of fire--till night descended covering the mountain first, and little by little the gungi shankom itself. i shall not easily forget this sight. [illustration: gungi shankom] i slept under my little _tente d'abri_ and found it delightfully cosy and warm. at a.m. the next day i raised camp. the elevation here was , feet. interesting was the _chiram_, a collection of tombs, five in number, made of slabs of white stone with poles placed vertically upon them, and from the summit of which hung flying prayers. the kuti river to my left was wide and rapid. on the opposite bank the village of ronkan ( , feet) made a pretty _vis-à-vis_ to the nabi village on our side of the stream, at the same elevation, and directly under the lee of the nabi shankom. as i rose gradually along the river course the vegetation grew sparse, and in front of me there remained nothing but barren rocks and high snowy peaks. the spot where, from opposite sides, the gunkan river and the nail river throw themselves into the kuti river is most picturesque. there are on the water's edge a few pine-trees, but above there is nothing but wilderness--rock and ice and snow. i soon came upon much snow, and places where the track along the mountain-side was undiscoverable. walking was tiresome enough on the loose shingle and shale, but it became worse when i actually had to cut each step into the frozen snow. the work was tedious to a degree, and the progress slow. after a while i noticed a series of lofty snow tunnels over the raging stream, which is earlier in the season covered entirely by a vault of ice and snow. the higher i got the harder and more slippery grew the snow. the soles of my shoes having become soaked and frozen made walking very difficult. at , feet, being about three hundred feet above the stream, i had to cross a particularly extensive snow-field, hard frozen and rising at a very steep angle. some of my coolies had gone ahead, the others were behind. notwithstanding the track cut by those ahead, it was necessary to re-cut each step with one's own feet, so as to prevent slipping. this was best done by hammering several times into the white sheet with the point of one's shoe until a cavity was made deep enough to contain the foot and to support one upright. it ought to be done carefully each time, but i fear i had not the patience for that. i thought i had found a quicker method, and by raising my knee high, i struck the snow with my heel, leaving my foot planted until the other one had by the same process cut the next step. [illustration: zazzela mount, near gungi] [illustration: involuntary tobogganing] it was in giving one of these vigorous thumps that i hit a spot where, under a thin coating of snow, was hard ice. my foot, failing in its grip, slipped, and the impulse caused me to lose my balance. i slid down the steep incline at a terrific pace, accompanied in my involuntary tobogganing over ice and snow by the screams of my horror-stricken coolies. i realised that in another moment i should be pitched into the stream, which would have meant being carried under the long tunnel of ice to meet certain death beneath it. in those few seconds i found time to speculate even as to whether those stones by the water's edge would stop me, or whether the impetus must fling me past them into the river. i attempted to get a grip in the snow with my frozen fingers, to stem myself with my heels, but with no success, when i saw ahead of me a large stone rising above the snow. with desperate tension of every nerve and muscle, i knew as i approached it, with the foaming water yonder, that it was my only hope. i consciously straightened my legs for the contact. the bump was tremendous, and seemed to shatter every bone in my body. but it stopped me, and i was saved only a few feet from the water's edge--miraculously, although fearfully bruised, with no bones broken. [illustration: chiram] my fingers were cut by the ice and bleeding. when i was able to stand, i signalled to the frightened and wailing coolies above to go on, and i myself proceeded along the watercourse until i found a spot from which i could regain the upper track. chapter xiv a palaver--to see is to believe--dangers and perils on the snow and ice--_thar_ and _ghural_--stalking--a tiring climb to , feet--the collapse of a snow bridge. at kuti i halted and summoned the leading natives to my tent. would it be possible, i asked them, to get over the lumpiya pass or the still higher mangshan? the first is a rarely frequented pass on the way to gyanema, the other a high and most difficult pass by which it is possible, though not easy, to reach the rakstal lake by the jungle without going near a tibetan settlement or encampment. "no," was the decided answer from all the shokas. "the snow is now too deep. fresh snow falls daily. for another fortnight at least no human being can get across. to attempt it will mean losing one's life. at their best during one month in summer, those two passes are arduous and dangerous. now it would be mere folly to attempt their ascent." with my distressingly sceptical nature i believe little that i do not see. i started next morning to observe for myself. my bearings were roughly north-west. seeing me determined, several of the kutial shokas changed their mind and volunteered to follow me. they were of considerable help in many dangerous places. here and there a few paces of narrow track were uncovered, otherwise we went long distances on frozen snow, over precipices down which it was almost fatal to look. the lucky hairbreadth escape of the previous day contributed to make me lose confidence, not in myself, but in that white emblem of purity and innocence, in reality the most treacherous substance in creation. i soon found that wherever there was snow there was trouble. in spots where the snow was particularly hard frozen we dared not attempt to walk on the steep slippery surface, and we had to descend to the river, which was here bridged over completely with ice and snow. crossing, we would attempt progress on the other side, and having proceeded with difficulty for a few hundred yards, had to retrace our steps and try the first bank again. we thus crossed and recrossed the kuti river more than half-a-dozen times, each crossing being preceded by a precipitous descent and immediately followed by a steep ascent. the cracks in the ice by the water-side were constant and perilous, and we did not risk remaining near them longer than was necessary. in six or seven hours we had walked a distance of less than four miles. leaving the kuti river and following due north the course of a tributary, the kambelshio, we crossed over to its farther bank and pitched our tents at an altitude of , feet. [illustration: kuti] [illustration: snow bridges over the kuti river] there remained a few hours of daylight when we arrived, and i employed them by going after _thar_ or _tehr_ and _ghural_ (himahlyan chamois) a couple of miles farther. i rose to , feet on a needle-like peak towering over the spot where, in a narrow picturesque gorge, the tongzu pangti enters the kuti river. the sources of the tongzu pangti are about a thousand feet higher than the spot where it meets the kuti river, and the stream has its birth from the melting snows, descending precipitously and in a very short distance into the larger river. the rocks are here furred with saltpetre, and it is said to be a favourite spot for thar.[ ] [illustration: old shoka woman smoking] i enjoyed my trip so much that, rising with the sun, i started on the following morning to repeat my experience. moreover, i wanted to climb to some high point wherefrom i could make certain whether it was possible to proceed immediately across the himahlyan range, or whether it was advisable to wait patiently until the snow had to some extent disappeared. i walked four miles from camp, reaching an altitude of , feet. the ascent was rather tiring. having wounded a thar, i went after it up a fatiguing snow-field at a speed too great to be comfortable at such a very high elevation. when i reached the top, i was out of breath and the thar too far off for a second shot. the view this high point commanded was stupendous. for miles and miles--and it seemed hundreds of miles--snow, snow, nothing but snow! there stood jolinkan mount rising above , feet. on either side of the kuti river were peaks as high as , feet and more. here and there the white sheet that covered the surrounding country seemed almost greenish. those spots were glaciers, and i saw many of them, feeding as they do the numerous streams flowing into the kuti river. i returned to camp for lunch. it was useless to proceed and even more useless remaining still. i gave orders to raise the camp, and at p.m. we were under way back to kuti. the day had been an unusually warm one, and the surface of the snow, so hard the previous day, was now soft and watery. several of the snow bridges had already disappeared. i had descended to the river preceded by some of my coolies. two of them just in front of me were crossing over the stream on a thick and broad archway of ice. i was waiting for them to be safely across. when the men had nearly reached the other side they noticed a peculiar vibration underfoot. scrambling away as best they could, they gave the alarm. i drew back hastily. in the nick of time! for with a deafening roar like magnified thunder echoed from cliff to cliff, down went the bridge. the huge pieces of ice, only a moment before forming part of the vault, were now swept away by the furious stream and thrown with tremendous force against the next bridge, which quivered under the terrible clash. three days' marching over the same route brought me back to garbyang. [ ] the _gural_ is the himahlyan chamois found at even comparatively low elevations. they are generally seen in herds, with the exception of the oldest males, which are usually met with alone. it is not uncommon to see as many as eight or ten together, especially during their feeding time, shortly after sunrise and an hour or two before sunset. tehr or thar (male) and jahral (female) is the true and proper wild goat of the higher himahlyan range. it is rarely found lower than feet and often as high as , feet above sea level. those found at lower elevations do not possess quite such a luxuriant growth of hair, nor, i am told, are their curved horns quite so long. they climb about precipices and dangerous spots with the greatest ease. chapter xv an earthquake--curious notions of the natives--a shoka tailor and his ways--the arrival of silver cash--two rocks in the kali--arrogance of a tibetan spy. on hearing that dr. wilson was now in garbyang i went to call upon him. squatted on soft chinese and tibetan mats and rugs, we were enjoying cup after cup of tea and devouring _chapatis_, when suddenly the whole building began to shake and rumble in the queerest manner, upsetting teapot and milk and sending the _chapatis_ roaming to and fro all over the room. leaving dr. wilson to save our precious beverage, i pulled out watch and compass to notice duration and direction of the shock. it was undulatory, very violent, and oscillating from s.s.w. to n.n.e. the duration was exactly four minutes two seconds. the earthquake began at . p.m. and ended at h. m. s. "it strikes me that it would have been wise to have gone out of the house," said i. "it is a wonder the building did not collapse. my cup is full of mud and débris from the ceiling."[ ] "i have saved the tea for you!" said the doctor, triumphantly lifting in his muscular hands the teapot, which he had carefully nursed. he had soon discovered my devotion to the yellow liquid. we were quietly going on with our refreshment when a band of excited shokas broke into the room. "sahib! sahib! where has it gone?" cried they in a chorus, stretching their hands towards me and then folding them in sign of prayer. "sahib! tell us where it has gone!" "what?" rejoined i, amused at their suspense. "did you not feel the earth shake and quiver?" exclaimed the astounded visitors. "oh yes, but that is nothing." "oh no, sahib! that is the precursory notice of some great calamity. the 'spirit' under the earth is waking up and is shaking its back." "i would rather it shook its back than mine," said i jokingly. [illustration: a well-attended school] "or mine," added the doctor lightly, much to the astonishment of our awestricken callers. "which way did it go?" repeated the impatient shokas. i pointed towards the n.n.e. and they gave a sigh of satisfaction. it must have proceeded to the other side of the himahlyas. it appears, according to the primitive notions of the shokas, that inside the earth lives in a torpid condition an evil spirit in the shape of a gigantic reptile. the rumbling preceding an earthquake is, to the shoka mind, nothing else than the heavy breathing of the monster previous to waking, whereas the actual shock is caused by the brute stretching its limbs. when fully awake the serpent-like demon darts and forces its way in one direction, compelling the earth to quake all along its subterranean passage, often causing by so violent a procedure great damage to property and loss of life, not to speak of the fear and terror which it strikes in man and beast, should the capricious spirit by chance make a return journey to the spot below the earth's crust directly underfoot. it is curious and interesting, in analysing these crude notions, to find that, independently of the cause attributed to its origin, the shokas are aware of the fact that an earthquake "travels" in a certain direction. moreover, common symptoms of the approach of a violent earthquake, such as depression and heaviness in the atmosphere, which they attribute to a feverish state of the giant reptile, are readily recognised by them. [illustration: my banker and agent] on my return to civilisation some months later i discovered that on the same day a violent shock was felt all over india, causing considerable damage, especially in calcutta. i had on first arriving in garbyang ordered a tent, and the tailor who was entrusted with its manufacture had, after several days' intoxication, completed it. it was on the tibetan pattern, with picturesque ornaments in blue. he had also been making me some nepalese clothes, and these really turned out quite a success, no small wonder considering the way he went to work. i had given him cloth and lining, which he took away with him, but he never troubled to take my measure! he simply assured me that the suit would be ready on the following day. this was of course not the case, and on the next afternoon and for six consecutive days he placed himself in a state of hopeless intoxication under my window, singing, and making comical salaams each time i, after the custom of the country, threw something at him to induce him to go away. on the seventh day i caught him and shook him by the ears, explaining that if the clothes were not ready before nightfall, i would, in default of other tailors, sew them myself. "i have a drop too much in me," confessed the amusing rascal. "i will go to sleep now. when i wake in the afternoon i shall be sober and will finish my work. do not be angry, sahib. if only you drank yourself, sahib, you would know how lovely it is to be drunk." his philosophy did not agree with mine. but i felt sure that i had so far impressed him, that he knew he must risk some personal violence if he delayed much longer. sure enough, late in the evening he came with his work. "how they will fit i do not dare to guess," i remarked to dr. wilson, "considering the condition the man has been in while making them, and taking into account that he never measured me nor tried them on. after all, nepalese clothes should be tight-fitting all over." [illustration: the valley of garbyang] wonderful as it may seem, the clothes fitted like a glove. clearly, that man was a genius. anyhow he was intemperate enough to have been one. * * * * * one day i had gone for a walk along the deserted road from the village. i was about a mile and a half from the inhabited part, when three men, who had been fast approaching, stood with blunt swords in front of me. they waved their blades clumsily and shouted at the top of their voices in an excited manner: "_rupiya! rupiya!_" ("rupees! rupees!") without thinking of the money that i had sent for and expected to receive, i took their attitude as a threatening demand for the cash i might have on me. they were really grotesque in their gesticulations, and i brusquely pushed by them and continued my constitutional. when they saw me depart, they scurried away hastily towards garbyang, and i gave the occurrence no further thought. on my return to the village, however, some hours later, a crowd of shokas came up to me announcing that my money had arrived, and that the scared messengers, not daring to come near me a second time, had gone to dr. wilson's house. there i found a _peon_ and two _chaprassis_, the three men i had met on the road. they had brought a sum of eighteen hundred rupees in silver, nearly all in two-anna and four-anna pieces (sixteen annas to a rupee), which i had sent for from my banker, anti ram sah, at almora, and which it had taken three men to carry, owing to its weight. after an easy explanation with these three very peaceful highwaymen, the silver was conveyed to my room, and the greater part of the night had to be spent in counting the diminutive coins and packing them up in rolls of ten rupees each. * * * * * just below garbyang in the kali river were, among a mass of others, two large rocks in the centre of the stream. these two rocks were constantly watched by the shokas. the kali, though named after a small spring below its real source, is, like most of its tributaries, mainly fed by melting snows. the greater quantity of water descends from the jolinkan, the lumpiya, the mangshan, the lippu, and the tinker passes. the first four are in kumaon, the last in nepal. it stands to reason that the warmer the weather the greater is the quantity of snow melting on the passes, and therefore the higher the level of the river. when the two rocks are altogether under water all the passes are known to be open.[ ] during the time i was in garbyang i never had the luck to see this, but the level of the river was daily rising, and the time of tiresome expectation was certainly relieved by many amusing, and a few awkward incidents. having once been informed of my plans, the jong pen of taklakot in tibet was kept fully acquainted with my movements. his spies went daily backwards and forwards with details about me. this my friends confided to me regularly. one of these emissaries, a stalwart tibetan, more daring than the rest, actually had the impudence to enter my room, and to address me in a boisterous tone of voice. at first i treated him kindly, but he became more and more arrogant, and informed me, before several frightened shokas to whom he was showing off, that the british soil i was standing on was tibetan property. the british, he said, were usurpers and only there on sufferance. he declared that the english were cowards and afraid of the tibetans, even if they oppressed the shokas. this remark was too much for me, and it might anyhow have been unwise to allow it to pass unchallenged. throwing myself on him, i grabbed him by his pigtail and landed in his face a number of blows straight from the shoulder. when i let him go, he threw himself down crying, and implored my pardon. once and for all to disillusion the tibetan on one or two points, i made him lick my shoes clean with his tongue, in the presence of the assembled shokas. this done, he tried to scamper away, but i caught him once more by his pigtail, and kicked him down the front steps which he had dared to come up unasked. chanden sing happened to be basking in the sun at the foot, and seeing the hated foreigner make so contemptible an exit, leapt on him like a cat. he had heard me say, "ye admi bura crab!" ("that man is very bad.") that was enough for him, and before the tibetan had regained his feet, my bearer covered his angular features with a perfect shower of blows. in the excitement of the moment, chanden sing, thinking himself quite the hero, began even to shy huge stones at his terror-stricken victim, and at last, getting hold of his pigtail, to drag him round the yard--until i interfered and stopped the sport. [illustration: chanden sing and the daku rolling up my bedding] [ ] the ceilings of shoka houses are plastered with mud. [ ] n.b. the lippu pass, the lowest of all, may be crossed, with difficulty, nearly all the year round. chapter xvi the _rambang_--shoka music--love-songs--doleful singing--abrupt ending--solos--smoking--when marriage is contemplated--the _delang_--adultery--punishment. [illustration: motema, a shoka beauty] one shoka institution, surprising in a primitive people, but nevertheless, to my way of thinking, eminently sensible and advantageous, is the rambang, a meeting-place or club where girls and young men come together at night, for the sake of better acquaintance, prior to entering into matrimony. each village possesses one or more institutions of this kind, and they are indiscriminately patronised by all well-to-do people, who recognise the institution as a sound basis on which marriage can be arranged. the rambang houses are either in the village itself, or half way between one village and the next, the young women of one village thus entering into amicable relations with the young men of the other and _vice versâ_. i visited many of these in company with shokas, and found them very interesting. round a big fire in the centre of the room men and women sat in couples, spinning wool and chatting merrily, for everything appeared decorous and cheerful. with the small hours of the morning, they seemed to become more sentimental, and began singing songs without instrumental accompaniment, the rise and fall of the voices sounding weird and haunting to a degree. the shoka men and women possess soft, musical voices, and the sounds which they utter are not simply a series of notes emitted through the throat, but, as it were, the vibration of impressions coming from the heart, and transmitted by means of their voices to others. eastern in its character, the shoka music is pleasing to the western ear, not because it possesses quick progressions, flourishes, or any elaborate technicalities, but because it conveys the impression of reality and feeling. the responsive duets, sung by a young man and answered by a girl, pleased me most. all their songs are plaintive, and contain modulations of the voice so mysteriously charming in effect, and so good in tone, that they really affect one profoundly. they only sing when the mood takes them; never with a view to please others, but always simply to give vent to their emotions. their love-songs generally open with a sentimental recitative, and then change into actual singing, with frequent modulations from one key into another. the time is irregular, and though certain rhythmical peculiarities recur constantly, yet each performer gives to what he sings so strong a personality of execution as to make it almost an individual composition. any one hearing shokas sing for the first time would imagine that each singer was improvising as he went along, but on closer comparison it will be found that musical phrases, certain favourite passages and modulations in the voice, constantly recur not only in each song, but in all songs. they seem all of them based on the same doleful tune, probably a very ancient one, and only the different time in which it is given, and the eccentricities of the singer, give it a separate and special character. one characteristic of shoka songs--as of so many other oriental tunes--is that they have no rounded ending, and this, to my ears, rather spoiled them. a similar abrupt break is a feature of their dances and their drum-beating. the song suddenly stops in the middle of the air with a curious grating sound of the voice, and i could not obtain any entirely satisfactory explanation of this: the only answer given me was that the singer could not go on for ever, and that as long as he stopped it did not matter how he did it. further, they considered an abrupt ending most suitable to music (or dancing), as it immediately brought you back to your normal state, should your mind have been carried away. one pleasant feature was that their songs were never sung in a loud tone of voice, nor did they aim at notes too high or too low for their voices, but kept themselves well within their compass. [illustration: on the way to the rambang] [illustration: shoka earrings] the only difference between solos given by men, and those sung by women, was that the former showed more plaintiveness and sentimentality, and greater mutability of thought, whereas the latter were more uniform, more lively, and less imaginative in their representation of feelings. the words of the love-songs, nearly always _impromptu_, can hardly be set down in these pages. from our standard of morality, and away from their own special surroundings, they might seem almost lewd, while in their place they certainly did not impress me as offensive. when singing, the shokas usually raise the end of their white shawl or dress, and hold it by the side of the head. [illustration: silver earrings of tibetan origin, with coral beads] smoking was general, each couple sharing the same pipe. a few burning sticks of pine stuck in the rough wall formed the only illumination, save the fire in the centre of the room slowly burning out. signs of sleepiness became evident as morning came, and soon they all retired in couples, and went to sleep in their clothes on a soft layer of straw and grass. there they slept peacefully in a row, and i retraced my steps to my diggings amidst a deafening barking of pariah dogs. at these gatherings every shoka girl regularly meets with young men, and while she entertains the idea of selecting among them a suitable partner for life, she also does a considerable quantity of work with her spinning-wheel. eventually, when a couple consider marriage advisable, the young man, dressed in his best clothes, proceeds to the house of his intended father-in-law, carrying with him a pot of _chökti_ (wine), dried fruit, _ghur_ (sweet paste), _miseri_ (sugar-candy), and grilled grain. if the bridegroom is considered a suitable match, the parents of the girl receive the young man with due consideration, and partake heartily of the food and drink proffered by him. the marriage is there and then arranged, the bridegroom further disbursing to the father a sum of not less than five rupees and not more than one hundred. this is the etiquette of good shoka society, and of all people who can afford it, the payment being called "milk-money," or money equivalent to the sum spent by the girl's relations in bringing her up. the marriage ceremony is simple enough. a cake called _delang_ is baked, of which the friends of the two families partake. if either the bridegroom or bride refuses to eat a share of the cake, the marriage is broken off; if they both eat some of the cake, and later any dissension arises between them, all those who assisted at the function are called as witnesses that the marriage took place. often even this primitive ceremony of eating cake is dispensed with, and shoka marriages begin and continue as happy and faithful unions, without any special form of service or rite to solemnise the tie. [illustration: shoka woman weaving] they not only visit adultery on the guilty man himself by beating him, but the men proceed _en masse_ to the house of his parents and denude it of all furniture, stores of grain, and merchandise. they confiscate the sheep, goats, yaks, and all their valuable saddles and loads, and present the whole proceeds to the man whose wife has been seduced--a recompense for the shame suffered. frequently the unfortunate and innocent relations of the evil-doer are bound and even beaten to death by the villagers. these severe measures are resorted to in order to maintain a high standard of morality and honour, and there is little doubt that, primitive as these methods may seem, the good results obtained more than justify them. there are very few illegitimate births, with the exception of occasional rambang children, and their arrival is a matter of such disgrace that they cannot be looked upon as seriously discrediting the social value of the rambang. [illustration: rambang girls with ornaments] chapter xvii funeral rites departure of the soul--cremation--amusement of the dead man's soul--the lay figure--feasting--doleful dance--transmigration of the soul--expensive ceremonies--offerings before the lay figure--dancing and contortions--martial dances--solo dances--the animal to be sacrificed and the lay figure--chasing the animal from the village--tearing out its heart--the yak driven over a precipice--head shaving--a sacred cave. the shokas ascribe death to the departure of the soul from the body, and to this notion is due the curious reverence they show for the spirit or memory of their dead. i witnessed a funeral ceremony quaint enough to deserve record. a man had died a painful death, the result of an accident. his friends were immediately sent for, and the corpse, having been smeared with butter (_ghi_), was dressed in his best clothes. they bent his body double before the rigor set in, and placed him on a hurriedly constructed wooden hearse. he was covered with a blue-and-gold embroidered cloth, and a white one over it. at sunrise, the funeral procession left the house for the place of cremation. first came a row of ten women, their heads covered with a long strip of white cotton cloth, one end of which was tied to the hearse. among these were the near relations of the deceased, including his wife and daughters, crying and wailing the words, "_oh bajo! oh bajo!_" (oh father! oh father!), the rest of them sobbing and making great show of grief. the deceased having been somewhat of a favourite in garbyang, the villagers turned out in force to render him this last tribute, and they took their place in the procession as it slowly wound down the cliff towards the river. the hearse was carried by two men, and each male shoka following bore a log or bundle of firewood. we reached the kali. the body was temporarily laid on the bank of the stream, while all the men, with heads uncovered, collected large stones and pieces of wood. with the stones a circular crematory oven, five feet high, six feet in diameter, with an opening on the side facing the wind, was erected by the water-side. the wife and daughters of the departed, with their hoods turned inside out and with covered faces, squatted down meanwhile by the hearse, moaning and keeping a small fire alight. when all preparations were made, the oven being heaped up with logs of wood, the body was untied from the stretcher and lifted by two intimates of the departed on to the funeral pile. [illustration: weeping women under white cloth] all valuables were removed, his gold earrings, his silver locket and bracelets; and a large knife was used for some purpose or other which i could not quite see, except in slitting the lobes of the corpse's ears to remove his earrings more quickly. branches of pine-tree were deposited on the body, and a large pot of butter was set by its side. a brass bowl of _chökti_ (wine) was poured on the head, and then, in profound silence, fire was set to the pile. a few white puffs showed that it had caught fire, and then a dense column of black smoke rose from it, filling the atmosphere with a sickening smell of singed hair and burning flesh. the wind blew the smoke towards me, and i was enveloped in it for some moments, during which i could see nothing of what was going on, and i felt my eyes smart and my nostrils fill with the smoke and the stench. gradually a tall flame, over twenty feet high, leaked out, consuming the body and showing me, as the atmosphere cleared, the shokas down by the river washing their hands and faces to cleanse themselves of what they look upon as unclean, the contact with a corpse. retracing their steps to the village, the women cried and moaned, carrying back to the house the clothes of the deceased and his brass bowls. [illustration: shoka funeral pile] [illustration: women dusting and caressing the lay figure] reaching home, it was incumbent on them to provide lavishly for the amusement of the dead man's soul. a lay figure crudely constructed of straw and sticks was attired by them in the clothes of the departed, and covered over with indian fabrics embroidered in gold and red and blue, and a turban was stuck on the head, with a _panache_ made of a branch of fir-tree. the _kalihé_ was at the side of the image. when the fire was extinguished, a visit was paid to the cremation spot by the relatives of the deceased, and such pieces of bone as the knee-joints, elbows, and the larger vertebræ of the spine, usually left undestroyed by the flames, were collected and deposited inside the clothes of the image. wheat, rice, and flour were purchased in large quantities and cooked to provide food for the multitude of friends who remained the guests of the family during the whole time of the funeral. a sheep a day is usually killed and eaten on such occasions, and cask after cask of _chökti_ (wine), _zahn_ (a liquor distilled from barley, rice and wheat), and _anag_ (from fermented grain of various kinds) are emptied by the mourning crowd. the women folk of the dead man mourned round the effigy, resting their heads on it, crying and imploring the beloved one to return to life. other rows of women, with their hoods turned inside out in sign of mourning, danced gracefully in circles round the dressed-up figure, left the house by one door in the basement, described an arc in the open, and returned by another door, while men were dancing a doleful dance outside the house. beating of drums went on the whole day--languid and sad at moments; excited, violent and rowdy at others, according to the mood of the musicians and the quantity of liquor consumed by them. on each day of these proceedings, which lasted for three or four days, rice, baked wheat, and wine were placed before the effigy, until, when it was assumed that the soul of the dead had had a sufficiently amusing time, arrangements were made for its transmigration from the lay figure into a live sheep or yak. if the deceased is a man, the animal chosen to represent him is a male; if a woman, a female; but no ceremony of this sort follows the cremation of children under ten or twelve. in the case of the old man whose funeral i witnessed, a sheep was chosen, instead of the time-hallowed yak, the procuring of which from tibet used to be a very costly business. the use of a sheep for these sacrifices is quite a recent innovation, brought into fashion by the greatest shoka trader in garbyang, called gobaria, whose intention it was to put down the unnecessary waste of these ceremonies; but many pious shokas, i was assured, are not satisfied with so small an offering as a single sheep, and slaughter two or even more on these occasions. [illustration: women dancing round the lay figure] [illustration: dance in front of deceased man's house] after several days' dancing and gorging indoors, a crowd collects, to the sound of the drums, outside the habitation. the lay figure is from the room transported either directly outside the dwelling or to some picturesque spot in the woods. this is generally on the fourth day. bowls with food are placed in front of it, and the dancing is begun, to a curious sentimental strain, with a graceful series of contortions, by girls and women waving large pieces of white material. the legs keep time with the arms, and each leg is alternately bent at the knee until it nearly touches the ground. the head is inclined to the right or left, and thrown backwards or forwards according to the beating of the drum. the circular motion in the dancing begins first very slowly, and the speed then increases by degrees, abruptly ending in odd and suggestive postures. during the intervals of dancing the relatives go round and round the lay figure, dusting and fanning it with their white cloths. [illustration: the goat with soul of deceased being fed] in the afternoon the men join the performance, and though their dancing has practically the same characteristics and motions as the women's dance, it is usually so much more violent that it almost partakes of the character of a war-dance. they hold in their right hands a sword, in the left a circular shield, and some of the younger men show great skill in the rapid manipulation of their blades, twirling them round their heads and behind their backs. there are solos, duets and trios, in which the drummer or drummers take part, and when the dancing is collective, they head the procession, contorting their bodies and beating their drums with a stick on one side and the palm of the hand on the other. [illustration: goat, with soul and clothes of deceased] the whole crowd is constantly regaled by the family with corn baked with sugar, roasted indian corn, rice, sweets, _ghur_ and _miseri_, when the lay figure is supposed to have had its fill. while the mob eat, the ladies of the house return to the effigy with quick beating of the drums, and again double themselves up in solemn lengthy curtsies. perhaps the most interesting, because the most accomplished, were the solo male dancers, each performer displaying his own particular genius. the drummer beats his drum whimsically--fast and slow alternately, with no rule--just as it pleases his fancy, and the dancer always keeps time with him in all his frenzies and eccentricities, so that his movements are sometimes so slow as to be barely noticeable, and at others so rapid that his arms and legs can no longer be distinguished. i happened to witness no less than six funerals simultaneously in garbyang, and a collective war-dance of as many as three hundred men. it went on during a whole day and the greater part of the following night, torches and a big bonfire burning. [illustration: sending the goat away from the village] [illustration: martial dance round lay figure] eventually, amidst firing of guns, howls, yells and deafening hissing of the assembled crowd, the animal to be sacrificed is dragged before the lay figure. long coloured ribbons are tied round its horns, and the ends left hanging by the side of its head. sandal-wood is burnt under the beast's nostrils, which is supposed to induce the soul of the departed to enter and establish itself in the animal. the clothes, the turban, the shield, the jewellery, are torn from the figure's back and piled on to the goat, which is now the impersonation of the deceased. it is fed until it can hold no more, wine and liquor being poured down its throat, and large dishes of all possible delicacies being placed before it. the women relatives devote to it their tenderest affection, and shed tears over it in the conviction that it holds the spirit of their lost protector. stuffed with food, and stupefied by the alcohol, the beast submits, emotionless and immovable, to the wild caresses, prayers, and salaams showered on it. again the hissing, whistling and yelling begin, and a rush is made for the animal, which is seized by the horns, the neck, the tail, wherever it can be caught hold of, and dragged, pushed, beaten, and at last chased out of the village, but not until after the clothes, shield, sword, turban, and ornaments have been torn from its back. it is eventually handed over to the hunyas or jumlis or humlis, who on these occasions benefit by the simplicity and superstition of the shokas, and who throw it down, rip the body open, and pull out the heart, or twist it in the inside with a jerk that kills instantly. this method applies to sheep or goat. [illustration: tearing out the heart of the goat] when a yak is sacrificed, very much the same rites take place up to the moment when the lay figure is deprived of its clothing and the yak invested with it. it is similarly beaten and dragged about, and left on the top of some mountain, the crowd calling after it, "go! go! we have feasted, fêted and fed you. we have done all in our power for your welfare. we cannot do more! go now!" with this the yak, with the soul that has been driven into it, is left to its own devices, and as soon as the shokas have departed, is driven by the tibetans over a precipice, it being against their faith to draw blood from a yak. in the fatal leap the animal is smashed to pieces, and the tibetans, collecting the remains, gorge themselves with the prized meat of their cherished yak. [illustration: yak driven over precipice] as a mark of reverence the shoka men remove their caps not only while following the corpse to cremation, but also during the feasting, the male relatives themselves even shaving their heads; and this practice is occasionally extended to the whole male community in the case of a particularly respected villager dying. the women remove their jewellery, and, as already noted, turn their hoods inside out. when all is over, some restitution of his property is made to the dead, and odd articles, such as brass bowls or a gun or a shield or sword, are placed in a sacred cave, which none dare desecrate by entering to remove anything. these caves are high up on the mountain-sides, and are said to be full of sacred offerings, which have accumulated there in the centuries. i expressed the wish to see the cave on the mountain side above garbyang, but the natives politely asked me not to do so, as the visit of a stranger to this sacred spot might bring misfortune on the shoka living community. therefore i abstained from going rather than cause unpleasantness. chapter xviii touching shoka farewell--feelings curiously expressed--sobs and tears--the start--a funereal procession--distressed father and mother--kachi and dola the worse for drink--anxious moments--the bridge destroyed. the day of my departure came. it was after dark. outside my dwelling a crowd of shokas had assembled. i bade farewell to my host zeheram and to his wife and children, who with tears in their eyes wished me god-speed. [illustration: kachi and his relations] "salaam, sahib, salaam!" repeated zeheram, sobbing and bringing his hand respectfully to his forehead. "you know, sahib, that a horse goes to a horse, a tiger to a tiger, a yak to a yak, and a man to a man. a man's house is another man's house, no matter whether the colour of our skin differs or not. therefore i thank heaven that you have accepted shelter under my humble roof. you must have been uncomfortable, for all you sahibs are rich and accustomed to luxury. i am only a trader and a cultivator. i am poor, but i possess a heart. you, unlike other sahibs, have always spoken kindly to me and to all of us shokas. we feel that you are our brother. you have given us presents, but we needed them not. the only present we wish for is that, when you reach the end of your perilous journey, you will send us a message that you are well. we will all pray day and night for you. our hearts are sore at your leaving us." this from the rough old boy, whom i had got really to like, was touching, and i told him i hoped i might some day be able to repay him for his kindness. when i descended the steps there was quite a crowd in the yard. every one wished to bid me farewell. the men took my right hand in both theirs and brought it up to their foreheads, muttering words of grief at my leaving. the women gently caressed my face and bade me "_niku tza_" ("go well," "farewell"). these are the shoka fashions of taking leave of friends who are departing for distant lands. [illustration: the patan summoning my coolies from the roof of his house] led by the hand by a really grieving company, i moved towards the narrow, steep descent to the chongur bridge, cut into the slope of the high cliffs of clay. on the way i called at kachi's house, but he had gone ahead. a more mournful procession could not be imagined. the faint rays of a new moon gave an added melancholy to the scene, and that peculiarly impressive sound of sad steps, if i may thus express the pathetic cadence of people's gait when afflicted, made me feel as if i were attending my own funeral. i begged them to return to their homes, and one after the other they came to embrace my feet and to hold my fingers. then, hiding their faces in the palms of their hands, they one by one made their way up the grey track cut into the lofty cliff, and like phantoms, gradually becoming smaller and smaller, vanished in the distance. still some twenty or thirty insisted on escorting me down to the stream. farther on i came upon the excited figure of an old woman tearing her hair and crying pitifully. she threw herself at my feet, imploring me to take care of her son. it was kachi's distressed mother. i comforted her as best i could, and also the desolate father (good old junia), who was there with tears streaming down his cheeks, to bid me an affectionate farewell. "where is your son?" "you will find him a little farther down, sahib." i did--together with four other people lying on the ground all in a heap. one of them who tried to stand up, called out: "kachi, get up, here is the sahib," and then collapsed again on the top of the others. neither kachi nor the others gave any sign of life, and when i spoke to them i discovered that they were in a state of hopeless intoxication, arm-in-arm as they had fallen and slept. by the side of kachi was dola, his uncle, supposed to be employed by me in the quadruple capacity of interpreter, carrier, kachi's valet, and cook, in which latter art, after shoka fashion, he was quite an adept, his fame having spread all over bias. he was, therefore, a treasure not lightly to be abandoned, and yet, now that i wanted to act quickly and decisively, i had to weigh whether i should proceed with two of the most important characters in my play disabled. should i, hampered by these semi-corpses, be able to pass unseen the watchful tibetan guard at the chongur bridge, only a few hundred yards farther on? i decided to try. seizing one on each side under their arm-pits, i supported them and kept them erect. it was no easy job, and i felt our speed increase at every step as i moved with my staggering mates down the steep and slippery track. we reached the bottom of the hill at a breakneck rate, and as the track was narrow along the water's edge, it was a wonder that we did not all three of us land in the river. as it was, in coming suddenly to a stop, my two men utterly collapsed again, and i was so exhausted that i had to sit down and rest. kachi ram had a lucid interval. he gazed round and saw me for the first time that night. "sahib!" he exclaimed, with long pauses between each word, "i am drunk!" "that is quite true," said i. "we shokas have this bad habit," he continued. "i had to drink _chökti_ with all my relations and friends prior to leaving for this long journey. they would have been offended if i had not divided with each a cup of wine. i now see everything go round. please put my head into cold water. oh! the moon is jumping about, and is now under my feet!" [illustration: the chongur bridge previous to being destroyed] i complied with his request, and gave both his head and dola's a good ducking in the freezing kali river. this had the unfortunate effect of sending them to sleep so soundly that i thought they would never wake again. some of the sober shokas offered to carry the two helpless men on their backs. we were wasting valuable time and the sky was getting clouded. when the moon had disappeared behind the high mountain, i went ahead to reconnoitre. all was darkness but for the glimmer of a brilliant star here and there in the sky. i crawled to the bridge and listened. not a sound, not a light on the opposite bank. all was silence, that dead silence of nature and human life asleep. i stopped on the bridge. this structure spans the river, a huge boulder in the centre of the stream serving as a pillar, and forms, in fact, two separate bridges joined on the opposite sides of this central boulder. i walked cautiously across the first portion, stood to listen again on the rock dividing the foaming waters, and tried to penetrate the obscurity. there was not a soul to be seen, nor a sound to be heard. i went over the rock and proceeded towards the second half of the bridge, when i found to my horror that this second half of the bridge had been cut down. the entire section had collapsed, and with the exception of a long beam still swinging to and fro with one end in the turbid stream, and a plank or two, the whole material had been washed away. i returned to my men. "we must continue our way on this side of the river," i whispered to them. "the tibetans have destroyed the bridge." "the track is traced," they replied, "but it is impassable at night." "never mind; we must go. come." and i headed the silent procession. we went about a mile. yet another dilemma. kachi and dola were still fast asleep. the others, tired and worn out with the fatigue of carrying them, wished to turn back. the sky was now clouded all over and rain was coming on. i felt that it was useless to persist. having seen the two drunken creatures laid flat under a shed, and well covered with blankets, i therefore returned to garbyang, with the intention of making a fresh start shortly before sunrise, when the drunkards would probably be fit to walk by themselves, and found shelter under the ever hospitable roof of dr. wilson. chapter xix a dangerous track--perilous passage--a curious bridge over a precipice--pathetic shoka custom--small misadventures--a grand reception--tea for all tastes. at a.m., before the sun rose, i made a fresh and hurried start. i proceeded quickly to the spot where i had left the two drunken men. they had gone ahead. indeed the track was a bad and dangerous one, overhanging precipices, and hardly wide enough to give standing room upon it. we came to a spot where the narrow path stopped. there was before us a perpendicular rock descending straight as a wall to the kali river. the corrosive action of dripping water and melting snow, of which last there seemed to be a thick layer higher above on the summit of the cliff, had worn the face of the rock quite smooth. the distance across this vertical wall-like ravine was not more than forty or fifty feet. on the other side of it the narrow track began again. owing to this and other dangerous places, this route is but very seldom used by the natives or by any one else. the road generally taken is on the opposite side of the kali river, in nepal territory. nevertheless, a few shokas possess bits of land on this bank of the stream, and it was by them that, in order to surmount the obstacle before which i now stood, the following expedient was devised in former years. by letting down a man from above with ropes they succeeded in making two rows of small hollows in the rock, along two parallel horizontal lines, the higher of which was about six feet or so above the lower. the holes were dug at intervals of three or four feet along each line, the upper ones to be caught on by one's hands, the lower ones to support one's feet, and none of the cavities are deeper than a few inches. [illustration: a perilous passage] the transit seemed dangerous at any time, and impossible just then, because the drizzling rain which had set in had wetted the rock and made it as slippery as glass, but i realised that the thing had to be risked, and at any cost. with an affected air of assurance, i therefore took off my shoes and went ahead. i could not look about me, for i clung with my body to the wall, feeling my way with my toes and fingers. the cavities were, as a matter of fact, so shallow that progress was slow and troublesome. when the toes of the right limb seemed firmly planted in a receptacle, the right arm was made to slide along the rock until the fingers had obtained a firm grip in the cavity directly above the one in which the toes were. then the entire body had to be shifted from left to right, bringing the left foot and hand close to the right extremities and suspending one's weight on the former, so as to render the right foot and arm ready to make the next move forward, and so on, till i reached the other side and alighted upon the narrow track, which was itself only five or six inches wide. chanden sing having tied his shoes and mine over his shoulders, proceeded bare-footed on the same hazardous enterprise. with none of the excitement of personal danger, the moments of apprehension while he groped his way with toes and fingers, half paralysed with cold and fear, were to me worse even than those of my own passage. but he too got across safe and sound, and after that the rest was comparatively easy. it was necessary now to look out for signs of the two men, kachi and dola, who had preceded us. i was glad to find a little farther on fresh footmarks, undoubtedly those of the two shokas. the track still ascended and descended nearly all along precipitous cliffs, and was everywhere dangerously narrow, with here and there bits on shaky crowbars. at one spot the rugged formation of the cliff forced one suddenly to ascend to its very top and cross (on all-fours) a rude kind of bridge made of branches of trees spanned not horizontally, but at an angle of sixty degrees over a precipice of several hundred feet. i found a white thread of wool laid over this primitive structure, in accordance with the custom of the shokas at the death of relatives or friends away from their native village. the soul is supposed to migrate during the dark hours of the night and to return to the birthplace of the deceased, these white threads showing the way at dangerous places on the road. having lost the track more than once, we found ourselves down at the edge of the kali and compelled to climb up some three hundred feet over sand and rolling stones to regain the path. we arrived at last at nabi. there i found my loads safe and sound, having got here by the better track on the nepalese side previously to the chongur bridge being destroyed by the tibetans, also kachi and dola, who had got over and recovered from their drink. to make up, perhaps, for their past misbehaviour, and probably to make me overlook or forget it, they seemed to have induced the natives to welcome me with particular cordiality. i was invited by them, with much show of hospitality, to spend the night in the village. i was led with some ceremony to a primitive sort of ladder with very roughly carved steps, and shoved, with help from above and below, on to a flat mud roof. here a tent had been pitched, the floor of which was covered with mats and rugs for me to rest on. i no sooner laid myself down than a string of men, women and children arrived, carrying bowls with a particularly sumptuous meal of rice, _dhal_, meat, _balab_ (or boiled buckwheat leaves), curd, milk, broiled corn with sugar, _chapatis_, _shale_, sweets, native wine and liquor. during the meal, tea was served in all sorts of fashions. there was chinese tea and indian tea, tea boiled with sugar and tea without it, tea with milk, and tea with butter and salt in it, pale tea and dark tea, sweet tea and bitter tea--in fact, tea until i--devoted as i am to it--wished that no tea-leaf had ever been picked and stewed in boiling water. chapter xx dr. wilson joins my expedition for a few marches--what misdeeds a photographic camera can do--weighing, dividing, and packing provisions--two extra men wanted--the last friendly faces. i was examining a young woman who had badly injured and partly fractured a central vertebra of the spine, when dr. wilson turned up and gave the poor wretch the little relief possible in her condition, for which she had hoped in vain from me. he was welcome to me for many reasons besides the pleasure of being in his company. he had offered to join my expedition for a few marches into tibet, and i was glad indeed to have him with me. we pushed on as soon as possible over the road between nabi and kuti, which i have already described. our journey was quite uneventful, and the snow-bridges and snow-fields, so troublesome when i had first taken this road, had melted and altogether disappeared. even at nabi little happened. but i must just mention the following incident as illustrative of the curious suspicion and dislike i found everywhere of the photographic apparatus i carried with me. i was on the point of leaving the place when a handsome tibetan woman, whom i had not previously noticed, accosted me with hysterical sobs--inarticulate, but conveying a very clear impression of suffering. "you have killed my child, and now you will kill my husband," she complained, when she was able to talk; and i then discovered that i had on my previous visit to nabi taken a snap-shot at a child perched on the top of a very heavy load that happened to be carried on the woman's back through my camp, and that when she complained i had appeased her, in the usual way, with a coin. she had conveyed her load to kuti, and had slipped, on her way back, with her child--at a spot not far from where i had had my slide--but, less fortunate than myself, had rolled right into the foaming stream. she managed to cling to the rock and was eventually saved, but the infant was washed from rock to rock by the current, and disappeared under a snow tunnel. "oh, sahib!" cried the woman, "if you had not before we started looked at us through _the eyes_ (the twin lenses) of your _black box_ (the photographic camera), i should not have lost my baby." [illustration: the photograph that caused the child's death] "and how about your husband?" "oh, you will kill him too." "but i don't know your husband. anyhow, i promise not to look at him with these eyes." "it is not that, sahib, but he is coming with you to tibet. he is carrying one of your loads. you will all be killed." she pointed him out to me--one of the strongest among the men i had, and the most anxious to accompany me. he was too good to lose, and i was certainly unwilling to renounce my claim to him on account of his good woman's tears. so i consoled her as best i could; promised to take good care of him, and under no circumstances to photograph him. at kuti, dr. wilson and i were busy for several hours weighing, dividing and packing in equal loads the provisions i had purchased: fourteen _munds_ in all ( lbs.) of flour, rice, red sugar (_ghur_), salt, red pepper ( lbs.), _dhal, miseri_ (lump sugar), _ghi_ (butter), and a large quantity of _satoo_ (oatmeal), and broiled corn. there were, in addition, the preserved and tinned provisions which i had brought with me from london. to give my carriers no cause for complaint, i allowed them to choose their own shoes, blankets, &c., and i did all in my power to humour them, because the loads threatened to be excessively heavy. in fact, i found that, even after dispensing with everything but what was absolutely essential, there was still ample to carry for at least two strong men. every available shoka had joined the party, and no inducement that i could offer brought me more volunteers. i was very unwilling to delay, and i was on the point of subdividing among the men i already had the two extra loads, when two stray shepherds turned up, half famished and naked, with long unkempt heads of hair, and only a coral necklace and a silver bangle by way of clothing. i quickly secured them, and although one was really only a boy, i decided to trust to luck and take dr. wilson's assurance that he looked tough enough and would be useful. this brought my little force up to thirty strong, and now i was ready to start. [illustration: plan of kuti castle . piles of stones . steps . outer wall . tower . blacksmith's house . windows] chapter xxi the kuti castle--under way--our first disaster--a cheerful and a sulky coolie--mansing--a brigand--a strange medley of followers--a character--tailoring--fields of stones--troublesome rivers--the jolinkan or lebung pass--sense of humour--pleased with small comforts. before leaving kuti, i went to see the curious and ancient castle perched on a small hill about three hundred yards south of the village. it is now in ruins, with the exception of a quadrangular tower called by the natives the kuti ker, but the foundations of the whole structure can still be plainly seen. i made a plan, which is here reproduced, as it may be of archæological interest. the natives could give me no information regarding it, except that it was once a king's palace strongly fortified. a small house of several rooms by the side of the tower is said to have been the blacksmith's shop in which the arrowheads and swords for the king's soldiers were made. the tower is four yards square at its base, and built of stone. judging by its shape and construction, and the curious windows, i am inclined to attribute this castle to tibetan workmanship, for identical towers are seen in tibet, even at taklakot. the windows, or rather slits, on each floor of the tower were six inches square; those in the blacksmith's house were considerably larger. there were outer walls for the defence of the fort at places where the castle would have been most accessible. quantities of stones piled up in heaps probably served as ammunition for the defenders of the fortress in centuries gone by. when i returned to camp all was ready, and after endless trouble with some of my men, who were already uncertain as to whether they would accompany me on my journey or not, i eventually got under way in the afternoon. the kuti village is the highest in bias, being situated at an elevation of , feet. the track was now comparatively free from snow and ice except here and there, where we had to cross extensive slopes covered with snow. on one of these we had our first disaster. a coolie fell who carried in his hand a large pot containing butter. he fortunately did not slide far down, but we had the bitter disappointment of seeing our precious pot roll into the water and disappear for ever. we camped at an elevation of , feet. late in the evening, as my men were collecting wood to keep up a huge fire round which we sat, my two coolies, who had remained at kuti with instructions to follow, arrived with their respective loads. they were two strange characters. the one with a coral necklace was mournful and sulky, the other lively and talkative. they professed to be by caste rajiputs. "you see," exclaimed the cheerful coolie, "i am small, but i fear nothing. when we cross into tibet i shall go ahead with a pointed stick and clear all the tibetans away. i am not afraid of them. i am ready to fight the whole world." knowing the value of this sort of talk on the part of natives, i shut him up and sent him away to fetch wood. the sulky fellow interested me more. he seldom uttered a word, and when he did he never spoke pleasantly; he was apparently immersed in deep thought, from which it seemed a great effort to draw his mind away. he looked painfully ill. motionless and speechless, he would stare at a fixed point as if in a trance. his features were peculiarly refined and regular, but his skin had that ghastly shiny whitish tinge so peculiar to lepers. i waited for an opportunity to examine his hands, on which he sat to keep them warm. it is there, in the contracted or dropping off fingers, that one finds the first certain symptoms of that most terrible of all diseases, leprosy. i asked the man to come and sit nearer the blazing fire. he came and stretched out his open palms towards the flickering flame. alas! my suspicions were but too correct. his fingers, distorted and contracted, with the skin sore at the joints, were sad and certain proof. i examined his feet and found the same symptoms there also. "what is your name?" i inquired of him. [illustration: the kuti castle] "mansing," he said drily, becoming immediately again absorbed in one of his reveries. the crackling fire was dying down, when a stalwart tibetan suddenly appeared bent low under the heavy weight of a huge tree-trunk which he was carrying on his back. he approached and threw the wood on the fire. here was another character! as strong as an ox, this servant of mine had queer antecedents. he was at one time a well-known bandit in the neighbourhood of lhassa. he was said to have taken many lives, and, finding his own in danger in his country, had come to settle on our side of the border, marrying different wives, whom he constantly beat and in turn banished from under his roof. it was owing to his latest family squabble that he came into my employ; his abnormal strength, valuable for carrying loads, was to me his only recommendation. in camp he went by the name of _daku_, "the brigand." [illustration: mansing the leper showing his hands] in looking round to inspect my other followers, with whom i had hardly yet got acquainted, i was amused and interested at the strange medley of creatures forming my band. there were humlis and jumlis with their luxuriant black hair tied into small tresses and a top-knot over the head, like the coreans. there were tibetans, shokas of bias, rongbas, nepalese, rajiputs and totolas, also a brahmin, two native christians and a johari. then dr. wilson. what a collection! what a chaos of languages and dialects! an amusing feature of this odd crowd was that each particular caste looked down upon all the others. this from the very beginning occasioned separation during mealtime, and the camp was lively with as many burning fires in as many sheltered spots as there were castes of men following me. i was glad of this, as it seemed a sort of guarantee that they would never all join together to conspire against me. poor mansing, the leper, was shivering with cold. he had been unable to purchase himself a blanket and shoes at kuti. he had spent the money in tobacco instead. dr. wilson and i took pity upon him. the long evening was still before us, so i got out the cloth i had purchased at kuti, and with scissors and needle we began to cut and sew a new set of garments for the poor wretch. the doctor did the cutting and i the sewing. i cannot boast that a professional tailor would not have turned out a better fit, but for all general purposes the newly-made clothes answered well enough. there was only one inconvenience in the single-breasted jacket. i had no buttons, and was therefore compelled to sew the coat on the man himself. it thus remained a fixture, and not only looked all right, but--which was our chief object--kept him warm. we left camp at . the following morning. high mountains rose on either side of us, and we followed the kuti river flowing here from west to east. at an elevation of , feet we crossed the bitroguare river. on the other side of the kuti river were high perpendicular cliffs of a vividly red-coloured rock with blue horizontal stratifications, and towering over them a succession of very pointed peaks. the action of ice on the rock was noticeable everywhere. as we went farther we came upon extensive fields of stones and boulders brought down from the higher peaks by the ice, and in some places we found actual _moraines_. to our left stood a gigantic wall of stone like a natural impregnable fortress. travelling in a direction of ° (b.m.), and at elevations of , feet, , feet, , feet, we waded through three tributaries of the kuti; then we came to a foaming, rapid and deep river which we had great difficulty in crossing. it was getting towards the middle of the day, and the stream, fed by the snows melting under the hot sun, was rising from moment to moment. two of my coolies whom i first sent in reached the middle, where the water came up to their chins. they lost their footing and were temporarily helpless, and in some danger of being swamped, the loads which they carried on their heads being partly spoiled when we succeeded in recovering them. the other men got frightened by the time they were ready to cross. the river had risen so high that it was impossible to get to the other side except by swimming, and this was out of the question, on account of the loads. we therefore had to follow the stream upwards for about a mile, when fortunately we found a somewhat dangerous, yet passable, snow bridge, over which the remainder of my men and goods effected a crossing in safety. we returned to our course on the kuti, still passing between high, rugged mountains along an undulating plain averaging about yards wide. though at comparatively high elevations, there were large patches of brightly coloured flowers--red, violet, white and vivid yellow--which gave to the landscape a picturesque and constantly changing effect. [illustration: the jolinkan or lebung pass] on reaching a small pass, , feet, the path branched to darma by the jolinkan towards bearings °, and over the lebung pass. it is really only a goat track, exceedingly difficult and fatiguing, except in the month of august, when there is only a small quantity of snow, and it leads to the dholi river about half a mile south of khumling. the jolinkan river, rising from the snow field to the east of the lebung or jolinkan pass, had now to be crossed. the stalwart dacoit, ever ready to make himself useful, conveyed his load across, and lifting me like a feather on to his back, saved me from plunging higher than my waist into the bitterly cold water, whereas he was covered up to his neck. the course of the kuti turns now to ° (b.m.). going up and down small barren hills, round the foot of high mountains, we attained an altitude of , feet. here, to the left of the track, and eighty feet above it, is a small and beautiful lake yards long and wide. its waters, in which the high snowy peaks round it are reflected as in a silver mirror, find an outlet in a short but most precipitous river flowing with tremendous force into the kuti. soon after leaving this lake we came upon another small sheet of water, near which were thirteen peculiar piles or columns of stones, each one having been erected by the first tibetan or shoka who crossed the pass during the summer. a similar erection could also be seen perched on a large rock jutting out from the water of the larger lake. though the sun was fast going down behind the mountains to the west, we pressed on, trying to make as much headway as we could towards the perpetual snows. we still travelled over undulating ground, and the marching was not heavy or difficult, save for the freezingly cold and very rapid streams we had to wade through. it was all we could do to get warm again after having been immersed in one, and before we had ceased shivering we had to wade through the next, and yet the next, so that one's chilliness increased, and the constant discomfort of cold became very trying. much discontent prevailed among my carriers over the very long march, as their feet were numbed with cold. they nearly mutinied when i would not let them stop at a camp they had selected, but ordered them to proceed farther. a mile and a half from the point they had favoured, we overlooked a large, flat basin of stones and gravel, about half a mile wide and three-quarters of a mile long, which had the appearance of having formerly been a lake. it was surrounded by high snowy peaks, and its bed lay at an altitude of , feet. it seemed as if the immense quantity of stones and pebbles carried by the river feeding it had raised its bed until it had caused the water to flow into the kuti. when i saw it, the river formed an extensive delta with as many as twelve arms, joining again within the basin into one single stream before throwing itself into the kuti. naturally we selected the wider expanse of water to ford, assuming that it would be shallower than the narrow ones. once more that day i took off my lower garments and entered the cold water. it came direct from the snows, and its temperature was slightly above freezing-point. the sun had gone down, and there was a piercing wind. my feet, as i went in and out of the numerous branches of the stream, became so cold that i could hardly stand for the stinging pain; moreover, treading on sharp-edged stones under the water and knocking my frozen toes against them was at first very painful, but after a time they got so frozen that, though at each step the soles of my feet and toes were cut and bruised, i suffered no actual pain until after crossing five or six arms of the delta. unable to balance myself any longer, i struggled as best i could out of the water and rubbed my feet violently, until slowly, and with intense pain, they came back to life. it is curious how a little sense of humour helps on such occasions. to an onlooker not suffering as we were, the sight of our party crossing that dreadful delta would have been curious. the expression of disgust on all my men's faces, not to speak of my own, could not but have caused merriment. we carried our footgear on our shoulders; we struggled, stumbled, and splashed in the greenish water, and now one, then another, fell helpless through frostbite on some island or other, until we were all disabled, and still only half-way through. in spite of our condition, worn out as we were, the soles and sides of our feet badly cut and bleeding, my men, so sulky at having been firmly baulked in their wishes, became quite good-natured and amusing when i chaffed them over their present troubles, and they saw that i was in the same plight. after endless rubbing, we restored a certain amount of circulation to our lower limbs, and proceeded to cross the next six arms of the delta. when, after an hour or longer of suffering, we were at last able to put on our footgear, we felt the happiness which comes from the knowledge of difficulties overcome. never can i forget the great joy arising from what may seem a small comfort--a warm pair of socks! as i write these lines i live over again the particular pleasure of gently drawing them on, and it is impressed for ever on my mind as a fitting reward for the hardships i had put up with. we pitched our tents in a sheltered narrow valley to the north-west of the large basin. altitude, , feet. thermometer: minimum, °, maximum, °. chapter xxii want of fuel--cooking under difficulty--mansing lost and found--saved from summary justice--tibetan visitors--we purchase sheep--the snow-line--cold streams--the petrified _chapati_ and human hand. one of the main drawbacks of travelling at these great altitudes was the want of vegetable fuel. there was not a tree, not a shrub to be seen near our camp. nature wore her most desolate and barren look. failing wood, my men dispersed to collect and bring in the dry dung of yak, pony and sheep to serve as fuel. kindling this was no easy matter, box after box of matches was quickly used, and our collective lung power severely drawn upon in fanning the unwilling sparks into a flame only a few inches high. upon this meagre fire we attempted to cook our food and boil our water (a trying process at such an altitude), keeping our own circulation fairly normal by constantly required efforts. the cuisine that night was not of the usual excellence, and did but little credit to the cook. we had to eat everything half-cooked, or, to be accurate, almost altogether uncooked. the night was a bitterly cold one, with a heavy fall of snow. when we rose in the morning it lay quite two feet deep around us, and the glare was painful to the eyes. i mustered my men. mansing was missing. he had not arrived the previous night, and there was no sign of the man i had sent in search of him. i was anxious not only from my personal interest in his load (the fellow carried a load of flour, salt, pepper, and five pounds of butter), but i was afraid that the poor leper might himself have been washed away in one of the dangerous streams. even if this fear were groundless, he must, i felt, have suffered terribly from the cold with no shelter and no fire. bijesing, who had gone in search of him, had eaten some food before starting, and had taken blankets with him in case he could not return to camp during the night. it was long after sunrise when, with the aid of my telescope, i discovered the two men coming towards us. they arrived an hour or so later. mansing had been found sound asleep, several miles back, lying by the side of the empty butter-pot, the contents of which he had devoured. the discovery of this misdeed caused the greatest indignation in camp, for fatty matter and butter were much cherished by the natives, as being warmth-producing, when going over these cold passes. he was nearly the victim of summary justice at the hands of my angry men, and it was only with trouble that i rescued him from their clutches. to prevent a recurrence of the offence, i ordered the culprit to carry in future a heavy load of photographic plates and instruments, which i thought would not prove quite so appetising. before starting i took my usual bath in the cold stream and rubbed myself all over with snow. i found this very invigorating, and when the reaction came i experienced a delightful glow of warmth, notwithstanding the thin clothes i was wearing. [illustration: camping in snow] while we were camping, a flock of some six hundred sheep appeared, and with them some tibetans. as i had put up my tibetan tent, they had made for it, expecting to find some of their own countrymen, and their embarrassment was amusing when they found themselves face to face with dr. wilson and myself. hurriedly removing their fur caps, they laid them upon the ground and made a comical jerky curtsey, as if their heads and knees moved by means of a spring. they put out their tongues full length and kept them so until i made signs that they could draw them back, as i wanted them to answer some questions. this unexpected meeting with us frightened them greatly; they were trembling all over with fear, and after getting as much information out of them as they seemed to possess, i took advantage of the opportunity to buy some of their fattest sheep. when the money was paid there was a further display of furred tongues, and more grand salaams ere they departed, while all hands on our side were busy trying to prevent our newly purchased animals from rejoining the flock moving away from us. on our next march these animals proved a great trouble, and we had to drag them the greater part of the way. kachi, who had been entrusted with a very recalcitrant and strong beast, which i had specially promised my men for their dinner if they made a long march that day, found himself discomfited when he saw that the sheep had freed its head from the cord with which he was dragging it, and was cantering away full speed in the opposite direction. now, it is well known that at considerable altitudes running is a very painful operation for human beings, the rarified air making the effect of such exertion almost suffocating. yet kachi, having overcome his first surprise, was soon chasing the escaped beast, and, urged by the cheers and shouts of my other men, who seemed much concerned over this new calamity, he succeeded, after an exciting chase, in capturing it by its tail, a feat easier to describe than to accomplish, for tibetan sheep have very short stumpy tails. kachi fell to the ground exhausted, but he held fast with both hands to his capture, and eventually the animal was secured with ropes. this was the sort of minor trouble with which we had to contend at almost every turn during our journey, and although it may appear trivial, it was exasperating enough at the time. on fairly undulating ground we gradually rose to a pass , feet high; then traversing a wide flat land, we followed the kuti river with its high snowy mountains to the west and east. the snow-line was at , feet; the snow below this level melts daily, except in a few shaded places. red and white flowers were still to be seen, though not in such quantities as lower down, and i saw enamoured couples of small black and white butterflies.[ ] after a while there was yet another bitterly cold stream to ford; two small lakes to skirt; three more deep rivers to wade, with cold water from the snows up to our chests, and then we had to make the best way we could through a large field of rocks and stones showing strong indications of iron, my compasses being at once affected, and becoming for a time quite unreliable owing to the deviation. a curious flat circular stone, resting on the top of others, was pointed out to me as a wonder; the accepted legend of the shokas being that, centuries ago, one of their countrymen halted by the side of this rock, and having baked a _chapati_, laid it upon the rock, proceeding to make others, when to his great astonishment, on raising his hand to take his first _chapati_, he found it had turned into solid stone, and had furthermore assumed gigantic proportions. a few feet farther on i was pointed out another wonder, a great human hand (as the tibetans and shokas call it), which is supposed to have belonged to the maker of the _chapati_. not being satisfied with his first experience, he laid his hand on the rock, and there it remained, petrified, and in this case also, increasing tenfold in size. i could see, with some stretch of the imagination, a certain resemblance to an enormous human hand, but the thing required more faith than observation. mile after mile we marched over sharp stones, wading through a second troublesome delta of eight arms fully a mile in width, across a flat basin of pointed pebbles and stones, until at last, to our great delight, we came to smooth grass land, a soothing comfort to one's torn feet. [illustration: the snow-line at , feet] here the kuti river ran through a large basin, not dissimilar to the one near which we had camped the night before, having also the appearance of lake formation with high perpendicular rocks on the left, which gave one the impression of a vast wall--a rugged and forbidding barrier. proceeding n.w. the basin became wider and the kuti river turned to the n.w., while the mangshan river, descending from the east, joined the first stream in the centre of the basin. in crossing the numerous branches of the two rivers we again experienced, with almost accentuated discomfort, the trials and weariness of the preceding day. the water was colder than ever, our feet were by this time in a dreadful condition, cut and bleeding, because it was constantly necessary to walk bare-footed. aching and benumbed we stumbled on, in and out of water, always, it seemed, encountering sharp small stones. for us there could be no turning back however; the pain had to be borne before the march was finished, and we won our camping-ground at last under the lee of the high chain of mountains to the north of us, and on the northern bank of the mangshan river. directly in front stood the final obstacle, the stupendous backbone of the himahlyas; once past this i should be on that high tibetan plateau so accurately and picturesquely called "the roof of the world." [ ] n.b.--this same kind of butterfly i found at even greater elevations in tibet. chapter xxiii the scouts return--a small exploring party--the mangshan glacier. from kuti i had despatched a sturdy shoka, named nattoo, to ascertain whether it was possible to cross the chain over the high mangshan pass, as in this case i should be enabled to get many marches into tibet by the jungle without fear of being detected. i should thus get behind the force of soldiers which i was informed the jong pen of taklakot had concentrated at the lippu pass to prevent my entering the country, and before they could have time to discover my whereabouts i should be too far ahead for them to find me. nattoo arrived in camp almost simultaneously with ourselves and had a long tale of woe to relate. he had been half way up the mountain. the snow was deep and there were huge and treacherous cracks in the ice. as he was on his way up, an avalanche had fallen, and it was merely by the skin of his teeth that he had escaped with his life. this was to him an evil omen, and he had turned back without reaching the summit of the pass. he seemed scared and worn out, and declared that it was impossible for us to proceed that way. unfortunately the thrilling account of the kutial's misfortunes had a depressing effect on my men. what with the intense cold, the fatigue of carrying heavy loads at high elevations over such rough country, and the fearful rivers which they dreaded, and so many of which we had crossed, my carriers became absolutely demoralised at the thought of new hardships ahead, all the more when i assured them that i did not believe nattoo, and that i should go and see for myself. it was . in the afternoon, and therefore some time before sunset. there would be moonlight. i had on that day marched eight miles,[ ] and though the soles of my feet were cut and sore i was not really tired. our camp was at an elevation of , feet, a pretty respectable altitude considering that the highest mountain in europe is only , feet. dr. wilson insisted on accompanying me to the top, and kachi ram and a rongba coolie volunteered to come as well. bijesing, the johari, got on his feet after some persuasion, and that completed our little exploration party. chanden sing, who was really the only man i could trust, was left in charge of the camp, with strict orders to punish severely any one who might attempt to turn back during my absence. we set out almost immediately after reaching camp, following up stream the course of the mangshan river, which is boxed in between high cliffs, those south of it running in a direction of ° (b.m.), those to the north converging to °; the two ranges eventually meeting in the glacier at the foot of mangshan, about three miles e.-e.s.e. of our camp. there was no track, and the walking was extremely difficult and troublesome, over large slippery stones, between which one's feet constantly slipped and got jammed, straining and injuring one's ankles. little trusting my followers, who seemed on the verge of mutiny, i did not care to leave behind in camp the heavy load of silver rupees (r. ) sewn in my coat, which, by the way, i always carried on my person, as well as my rifle, two compasses (prismatic and luminous), two aneroids, one half-chronometer, and another watch and some thirty cartridges. the combined weight of these articles was considerable,[ ] and i felt it especially during the first days of my march. on this particular afternoon it was almost too much for my strength. however, one gets accustomed to most things, and after a while i felt comparatively little discomfort in marching under it. i persisted in thus weighting myself simply to be on the safe side, so as to be always prepared in case my men revolted or abandoned me. [illustration: the mangshan glacier] we proceeded up and down the series of hillocks and in and out of the innumerable channels that the melting snow and ice had, with the aid of centuries, cut deep into the mass of rolling stones. at the point where the two ranges met there stood before us the magnificent pale green ice-terraces of the mangshan glacier, surmounted by extensive snow-fields winding their way to the summit of the mountain range. clouds enveloped the higher peaks. the clear alpine ice showed vertical streaks, especially in the lower part of the glacier, where it was granulated to a certain extent. the base, the sides and top being covered with a thick coat of fresh snow, and my time being very limited, i was unable to make careful investigations to ascertain the recent movement and oscillations of this glacier. judging by the nature of the stony tracts we had passed over, and also by the mounds, similar to those of a terminal moraine, which increased as we approached the glacier and its snow-covered fringe, i concluded that the glacier must have retreated considerably. the rocks and stones, as i have already mentioned, were shiny and slippery, which i attributed to the friction of the ice, and where the ice had extended over gravel, this was greatly disturbed, and scarred by innumerable channels, due, no doubt, to the mighty force of the moving ice besides the constant action of melting snows during the summer. the slopes of the mountains on the north showed no indication of having been disturbed, but the range on the southern side had all the appearance of having been cut and excavated by the ice. probably the large basins which i had crossed on my way from kuti, and even the last one, facing our camp, were after all reservoirs formed by ancient moraines with alluvial deposits. [ ] it must be remembered that at high elevations the exertion of walking eight miles would be equivalent to that of marching about twice the distance at much lower altitudes. [ ] see appendix. letter by dr. h. wilson. chapter xxiv snow and troublesome _débris_--the doctor's sufferings--kachi disabled--further trials--a weird apparition--delirium--all safe--the descent. the mangshan river rises from this glacier, but we left the glacier ( , feet) to the right, and, turning sharply northwards, began our ascent towards the pass. to gaze upon the incline before us was alone sufficient to deter one from attempting to climb it, had one a choice; in addition to this, the snow we struggled over was so soft and deep that we sank into it up to our waists. occasionally the snow alternated with patches of loose _débris_ and rotten rock, on which we were no better off; in fact, the fatigue of progressing over them was simply overpowering. having climbed up half-a-dozen steps among the loose cutting stones, we felt ourselves sliding back to almost our original point of departure, followed by a small avalanche of shifting material that only stopped when it got to the foot of the mountain. at , feet we were for a considerable distance on soft snow, covering an ice-field with deep crevasses and cracks in it. we had to feel our way with great caution, particularly as there was only the light of the moon to depend upon. fortunately, as we rose higher, there were no more crevasses, but i began to feel a curious exhaustion that i had never experienced before. at sunset the thermometer which kachi carried for me had descended forty degrees within a few minutes, and the sudden change in the temperature seemed to affect us all more or less; but we went on, with the exception of bijesing, who was seized with mountain sickness so violently that he was unable to proceed. the doctor, too, a man of powerful build, was suffering considerably. his legs, he said, had become like lead, and each seemed to weigh a ton. the effort of lifting, or even moving, them required all his energy. although he was terribly blown and gasping for breath, yet he would not give in, and he struggled on bravely until we reached an altitude of , feet. here he was seized with such exhaustion and pain that he was unable to proceed. kachi ram, the rongba and i went ahead, but we also were suffering, kachi complaining of violent beating in his temples and loud buzzing in his ears. he also gasped and staggered dangerously, threatening to collapse at any moment. at , feet he fell flat on the snow. he was instantly asleep, breathing heavily and snoring raspingly. his hands and feet were icy cold, and i rubbed them. but what caused me more anxiety than anything was the irregular beating and throbbing of his heart. i wrapped him up in his blanket and my waterproof, and, having seen to his general comfort, i shouted to the doctor, telling him what had happened, and that i was going to push on as much higher as i could stand, the rongba being now the only one of the party who was able to keep up. a thick mist came on and enveloped us, which considerably added to our trials. our efforts to get on after we left kachi at , feet were desperate, our lungs in convulsion as if about to burst, our pulses hastened, our hearts throbbing (mine being ordinarily very regular) as if they would beat themselves out of our bodies. exhausted and seized by irresistible drowsiness, the rongba and i nevertheless at last reached the top. it was a satisfaction to have got there, to have reached such an altitude, although i had long realised the impossibility of getting my men over by this way. it served me also to ascertain the amount of snow on the other side of the range, which, when the fog lifted somewhat, i found to be greater on the northern slope than on the southern. although almost fainting with fatigue, i registered my observations. the altitude was , feet, the hour p.m., and there was a strong, cutting north-east wind. i had stupidly forgotten to take my thermometer out of kachi's pocket when i left him, and was unable to register the temperature, although i had done so only a few minutes before i left kachi at , feet. the cold was intense. the stars were extraordinarily brilliant and the moon shone bright for a while over the panorama around me, and though it was a view of utter desolation, it had nevertheless a curious indescribable fascination. below me, to the south, were mountainous masses buried in snow, and to the south-west and north-east were peaks even higher than the one on which i stood. to the north stretched the immense, dreary tibetan plateau with undulations and intricate hill ranges, beyond which a high mountain range with snow peaks could just be perceived in the distance. i could see very little snow near by, except on the northern slope of the range i was standing on, and on the hill-tops which dotted the plateau. i had barely taken it in, barely realised the wonder of nature asleep when the mist again rose before me and i saw a gigantic phantom rising out of it. it stood in the centre of a luminous circle, a tall, dark figure in the folds of an enormous veil of mist. the effect was overwhelming, and it was only after some moments that i realised that the spectre wore my features, was a liquid presentation of my own proportions colossally enlarged; that i stood in the centre of a lunar rainbow, and that i was gazing on the reflection of myself in the mist. as i moved my arms, my body, or my head, the ghostlike figure moved, and i felt myself irresistibly changing my postures--oddly and nervously at first--then, with an awakening sense of the ridiculous in my actions--so as to make my image change and do as i did. i felt like a child placed for the first time in front of a mirror. the illustration on page represents a solar spectre with circular rainbow which i saw later on at a comparatively low altitude; the lunar effect differed from this in that the colours of the rainbow were but faintly distinguishable. the rongba had fallen exhausted, and i felt so faint with the awful pressure on my lungs, that, despite all my efforts to resist it, i collapsed on the snow. the coolie and i, shivering pitifully, shared the same blanket for additional warmth. both of us were seized with irresistible drowsiness, as if we had taken a strong narcotic. i fought hard against it, for i well knew that if my eyelids once closed they would almost certainly remain so for ever. i called to the rongba. he was fast asleep. i summoned up my last atom of vitality to keep my eyes open. the wind blew hard and biting, with a hissing noise. how that hiss still sounds in my ears! it seemed like the whisper of death. the rongba, crouched with teeth chattering, was moaning, and his sudden shudders bespoke great pain. it seemed only common charity to let him have the blanket, which was in any case too small for both, so i wrapped it tightly round his head and body. he was doubled up with his chin on his knees. this small exertion was quite sufficient to make me lose the tug-of-war in which i was pulling against nature. just like the subject who, under hypnotic influence, feels his own will and power suddenly going from him, so i felt the entire hopelessness of further struggle against the supernatural forces i was contending with. falling backwards on the snow, i made a last desperate effort to gaze at the glittering stars ... my sight became dim and obscured.... for how long this semi-consciousness lasted, i do not know. "god! how ghastly! doctor! kachi!" i tried to articulate. my voice seemed choked in my throat. was what i saw before me real? the two men, as if frozen to death by the side of each other, seemed lying on that vast white sheet of snow, motionless as statues of ice. in my dream i attempted to raise them. they were quite rigid. i knelt beside them, calling them and frantically striving to bring them back to consciousness and life. bewildered, i turned round to look for bijesing, and, as i did so, all sense of vitality seemed to freeze within me. i saw myself enclosed in a quickly contracting tomb of transparent ice. it was easy to realise that i too would shortly be nothing but a solid block of ice, like my companions. my legs, my arms were already congealed. horror-stricken as i was at the approach of such a hopeless, ghastly death, my sensations were accompanied by a languor and lassitude indescribable but far from unpleasant. to some extent thought or wonderment was still alive. should i dwindle painlessly away, preferring rest and peace to effort, or should i make a last struggle to save myself? the ice seemed to close in more and more every moment. i was choking. i tried to scream! to force myself through the suffocating weight on me! i gave a violent plunge, and then everything had vanished. the frozen kachi, the doctor, the transparent tomb! nothingness! [illustration: the spectre and circular rainbow] at last i was able to open my eyes, which ached as if needles had been stuck into them. it was snowing hard. i had temporarily lost the use of my legs and fingers. they were frozen. so violent was the shock of realising how very near death i had really been, that in waking up from the ghastly nightmare i became acutely alive to the full importance of instantly making my way down to a lower level. i was already covered with a layer of snow, and i suppose it was the frigid pressure on my forehead that caused the dream. it is, however, probable that, had it not been for the hideous vision that shook my nerves free of paralysing torpor, i should never have awakened from that spell-bound silence. i sat up with difficulty, and by beating and rubbing them, slowly regained the use of my lower limbs. i roused the rongba, rubbed him, and shook him till he was able to move. we began our descent. no doubt the satisfaction of going up high mountains is very great; but can it be compared to that of coming down? descending was dangerous but not wearisome. the incline being extremely steep, we took gigantic strides on the snow, and when we came to patches of _débris_, we slid ten or fifteen feet each step amidst a deafening roar from the huge mass of loose stones set in motion by our descent. [illustration: "i roused the rongba"] "hark!" i said to the rongba, "what is that?" we waited till all was silence, and with hands up to our ears listened attentively. it was still snowing. "_ao, ao, ao! jaldi ao! tumka hatte?_ come, come, come quickly! where are you?" cried a faint distressed voice from far down below. we quickened our pace; having hardly any control over our legs, our descent was precipitous. the snow-fall ceased and we became enveloped in a thick mist which pierced into our very bones. guided by the anxious cries of the doctor, whose voice we recognised, we continued our breakneck journey downward. the cries got more and more distinct, and at last, to my great joy, we came face to face with wilson, who, thank heaven, was alive but almost helpless, as he said his legs were still like lead, and it was all he could do to move them. owing to his anxiety about us, he had been shouting for a long time, and getting no answer, he became very uneasy, all the more so as he found he could in no way come to our help. he had quite given us up for lost. we looked for and found kachi. he had slept like a top, curled up in his warm blanket and my overcoat, and was now quite refreshed, so all united again, we continued our race downwards, exchanging our experiences and sensations. we had no very serious mishaps, and life and strength gradually came back to us again when we descended to lower elevations. the ascent from the glacier at the bottom of the mountain to the summit occupied four and a half hours; the precipitous descent, without counting stoppages, only the ninth part of that time, the distance covered being about one mile and three quarters. over the same trying stony valley we reached camp during the early hours of the morning. the distance from camp to the altitude reached and back was over ten miles; therefore, during the twenty-four hours i had altogether gone eighteen miles (quite a record at such great altitudes). i may here also remark that, since breakfast at six o'clock the previous morning, i had taken no food of any kind, thus making an interval of twenty-three hours between one meal and the next. the anxiety of my men in camp was intense. they had lost all hope of seeing us again, and they were quite reassured when i told them that we would proceed later in the morning by the lumpiya pass, which was believed to be far easier. in no time they had lighted a fire of dung, and after having had (at five o'clock in the morning) a handsome feed of rice, _chapatis_, extract of meat, and strengthening emergency food, we felt we were entitled to a well-deserved rest. chapter xxv the sources of the kuti river--the lumpiya glacier--the summit of the range--bird's-eye view of tibet--rubso frozen almost to death--the lumpiya pass--two coolies in distress. at a.m. we were ready again to start. the thermometer registered ° inside the tent, and the minimum temperature outside during the night had been °. we followed the kuti river at the foot of the mountain range, travelling in a direction of ° (b.m). on rounding a prominent headland, where the kuti river flows through a narrow passage, we saw facing us on a mound, fourteen stone pillars and pyramids with white stones on them and the customary flying prayers of cloth. it is from this point that the ascent to the lumpiya pass begins. [illustration: ascending the lumpiya pass] there are two sources of the kuti yangti, joining in a large basin; one comes from two extensive glaciers to the s.w., the other from a glacier directly under the lumpiya pass. the river at the junction of the two sources is not more than six yards across. our route gradually ascended, going n.w. first, then swinging away to n.e. until we attained an elevation of , feet on a flat basin covered with deep snow. so far we had proceeded with no very great trouble or fatigue, but matters suddenly altered for the worse. each coolie in the long silent row at the head of which i marched, sank in the snow up to his knees, often up to his waist. they formed, undoubtedly, a picturesque sight in this lonely region, the only bit of life in the picture, the white frozen sheet of snow throwing into strong contrast their faces wrapped tightly round with white turbans. some wore fur caps with ear flaps; all had long sheepskin coats and high boots of skins; many used snow spectacles; and as this procession, silent and grave, with loads on their backs, struggled higher and higher with piteous panting, you speculated apprehensively as to how many of them would ever return. moving cautiously to avoid the many treacherous cracks, i made my way ahead with considerable trouble to a spot six hundred feet higher, where i halted for a while on a rocky island fairly clear of snow. as coolie after coolie arrived, breathing convulsively, he dropped his load and sat quietly by the side of it. there was not a grumble, not a word of reproach for the hard work they were made to endure. sleet was falling, and the wet and cold increased the discomfort. there was now a very steep pull before us. to the left, we had a glacier beginning in a precipitous fall of ice, about one hundred feet in height. like the mangshan glacier, it was in horizontal ribbon-like strata of beautifully clear ice, showing no dirt bands. perpendicular stripes of a darker greenish colour could be observed arising from the unequal degrees of compactness of the ice; the strata showed almost horizontal, with no curvatures nor depressions in any part of them. the top, the base and the sides of the glacier were in this case also buried in deep snow. the doctor and i went ahead. in our anxiety to reach the summit, unable to discern the track, now covered by several feet of snow, we mistook our bearings, and with great fatigue climbed up an extremely steep incline. here we were on a patch of the troublesome loose _débris_, on which we struggled for over half an hour until we reached the top of the range, , feet, considerably higher than the pass itself. four men had come with us, the others, to whom we signalled, bearing more to the west by another dangerous track skirting the glacier. the wind from the n.e. was piercing and the cold terrible. under the lee of a large rock we found temporary shelter, and through my telescope scanned the tibetan plateau spread out before us. from this high eyrie we obtained a superb bird's-eye view. huge masses of snow covered the tibetan side of the himahlyas, as well as the lower range of mountains immediately in front of us, running almost parallel to our range. two thousand feet below, between these two ranges, flowed, in a wide barren valley, a river which is afterwards called the darma yankti or lumpiya yankti. in the distance, a flat plateau, rising some eight hundred feet above the river, and resembling a gigantic embankment of a railway line, could be seen extending for many miles; and far away to the north, a chain of high blue mountains capped with snow, undoubtedly the kangri chain with the kelas peaks. [illustration: the lumpiya glacier and pass] a painful incident had unfortunately happened to one of my followers: poor rubso, a christian convert, had fallen exhausted from cold and fatigue. he had been seized with cramp, and was lying in a semi-conscious state, his teeth chattering and his features distorted and livid; his eyes were sunken and lifeless, and he showed signs of complete collapse. we hastily carried him under the shelter of a rock and rubbed him vigorously, in the hope of restoring his circulation. after more than half an hour of the greatest anxiety and exertion, to our intense relief he partially recovered, and was able to proceed slowly with our help. having climbed the wrong path, we now had to descend to the pass, six hundred feet lower. we made our way along dangerous rocks and _débris_. i was just clinging with my half-frozen fingers to a prominent rock, striving to get on the other side, when screams of distress from below struck my ears. notwithstanding the unsafe position i was in, i could not help turning my head to see what had happened. on the steep incline of snow two coolies with their respective loads were sliding, at incredible speed. they eventually reached the basin, where the angle of the descent being suddenly altered, it caused them to revolve several times on their own axes, the different bags, &c., forming their loads, flying about and being scattered in every direction. i gave a sigh of relief when i saw the men getting up. one coolie picked up one after the other the goods that had been entrusted to him, tied them together, got them on his back, and began the difficult ascent a second time. the other was crying and moaning, so that we could plainly hear him from our elevation. he seemed giddy. after a moment or two he staggered, fell back and lay as if dead. hastening over the slippery rocks, and then down precipitously on the loose _débris_, i gained the pass, , feet. two reluctant men were immediately despatched to the relief of the coolie in distress. they first carried his load up, then him. after some time he, too, got over the severe shock and fright, and though he was rather shattered and aching all over, i succeeded in persuading the man that nothing was the matter with him. we then hurried down the steep declivity on the tibetan side, to get away quickly from the bitterly cold, windy pass. describing a wide arc of a circle, and then making straight down across several long snow-beds, we at last reached the river level and pitched our tents on snow at an altitude of , feet. there was no wood, no yak or pony dung, no lichens, no moss, and therefore nothing with which we could make a fire. it seemed hard upon my men that, after such a toilsome day, they should be compelled to go to sleep without having had a good meal. they believe--and they are right--that eating cold food at such high elevations, with such low temperature, leads to certain death. they preferred, therefore, to remain without food altogether. night came, and with it the wind blowing in gusts, and piling the grit and snow around our tents. during the nocturnal hours, with the hurricane raging, we had to turn out of our flapping canvases several times to make the loose pegs firmer. fastening all the frozen ropes was very cold work. at a.m. the thermometer was down to °. at a.m. in the sun, it went up to °, and inside the tent at the same hour we had a temperature as high as °--freezing-point. chapter xxvi mysterious footprints--brigand or spy?--passes and tracks--intense cold--no fuel--a high flat plateau--fuel at last!--two spies in disguise--what they took us for. in a hurricane of grit and drenching rain we packed up our traps as best we could and again started on our way. i was slightly in advance when, to my surprise, i noticed, some two hundred yards only from camp, a double line of recent footmarks on the snow. those coming towards us were somewhat indistinct and nearly covered with grit, those going in the opposite direction seemed quite recent. after carefully examining these footprints, i felt pretty certain that they had been made by a tibetan. where the footprints stopped, marks in the snow showed that the man had at different points laid himself flat on the ground. no doubt we had been spied upon and watched. my own men had shown many signs of terror ever since we had crossed to this side of the himahlyas, and were now all anxiously stooping low over these prints and speculating on their origin. their excitement and fear were strange to watch. some surmised that the man must be a _daku_, a brigand, and that in the evening we should be attacked by the whole band; others maintained that the spy could only be a sepoy sent by the gyanema officers to watch our movements. in any case, this incident was held to be an evil omen, and during our march in a n.w. direction along the bank of the river we continually saw the trail. the wildest speculations and imaginations were rife. to the left of us we passed the valleys leading south to the neway pass; then a second to the kats, ° (b.m.). the bearings were taken from the mouth of the river descending from it, a tributary of the darma yangti. [illustration: spied] six miles from our last camp, at bearings °, was the luway pass. we were travelling on flat or slightly undulating barren ground. we waded across another cold river with water up to our waists, and my men became so exhausted that one mile farther we had to halt at , feet. the cold was intense, and again we had no fuel of any kind. a furious wind was blowing, with snow falling heavily in the evening. my carriers, half starved, ate a little _satoo_, a kind of oatmeal, but chanden sing, a rajiput, could not, without breaking his caste, eat his food without undressing. it was two days since he had had his last meal, but rather than infringe the rules of his religion, or take off his clothes in such frigid regions, he preferred to curl up in his blanket and go to sleep fasting. the doctor left the warmth and comfort of blankets to go and talk with the men, and get their views about weather prospects and the chances of our route. i preferred the comfort of such warmth as i could get in our tent, where the temperature was ° fahr., or four degrees below freezing. the snow was lying a foot deep, and it was still falling heavily. the carriers were all attempting to sleep, huddled as close as possible to each other for warmth; they refused to move, saying they would rather die, and we found it convenient to believe them, and get what warmth and sleep we could under blankets in the tent. two or three hours later the weather cleared. the coolies, half starved, came to complain that they were again unable to find fuel to cook their food, and that they would leave me. the position of affairs was critical. i immediately took my telescope and clambered to the top of a small hillock. it was curious to note what unbounded faith the coolies had in this glass. it was evident that they believed in a childlike fashion that i could see through mountains with it. i came down with the reassuring news that one day's march further would bring us to a fine supply of fuel. they cheerfully hastened to pack up the loads, and set forth with unusual energy in the direction i had pointed out. we followed a parallel line to the high flat plateau on the other side of the stream, the slopes of which, in relation to the plain we were standing on, were at an obtuse angle of about °. the snow-covered plateau extended from s.w. to n.e. beyond it to the n. could be seen some high snowy peaks, in all probability the lofty summits s.e. of gartok. at the point where the luway joins the other three rivers there is a direct way to the summit of the tableland, along which it continues across the himahlyas by the luway pass. to our right we were flanked by high rugged mountains, with an occasional precipitous torrent. six hours' brisk marching took us to a sheltered nook, where a few lichens and shrubs were growing. if we had suddenly descended into the black forest of germany, or the yosemite valley, with their gigantic century old trees, our delight could not have been greater. as it was, the highest of these shrubs stood no higher than six or seven inches from the ground, while the diameter of the largest piece of wood we collected was smaller than that of an ordinary pencil. with feverish activity all hands went to work to root up these plants for fuel. when night came, the same number of hands were busy cooking and transferring with alarming celerity such steaming food as was available from the different fires to the mouths of the famished coolies. happiness reigned in camp, and all recent hardships were forgotten. a fresh surprise was awaiting us when we rose. two tibetans disguised as beggars had come to our camp. they professed to be suffering from cold and starvation. i gave orders that they should be properly fed and kindly treated. on being cross-examined they confessed that they were spies sent by the officer at gyanema to ascertain whether a sahib had crossed the frontier, and whether we had seen anything of him. we had so many things to attend to in the morning, and it was so cold, that washing had really become a nuisance, and i for my part gave it up, at least _pro tem._ we were sunburnt, and we wore turbans and snow-glasses, so the tibetans departed under the impression that our party consisted of a hindoo doctor, his brother, and a caravan of servants (none of whom had seen a sahib coming), and that we were now on a pilgrimage to the sacred mansarowar lake and kelas mount. before the men we treated this as a great joke, but, all the same, wilson and i anxiously consulted as to our immediate plans. should we make a rapid march during the night over the mountain range to our right, and strike east by the jungle, or should we face the gyanema leader and his soldiers? we decided to meet them rather than go out of our way, and i gave orders to raise camp immediately. chapter xxvii lama chokden--a tibetan guard--the sacred kelas--reverence of my men for the sacred mountain--trying hard to keep friends with the gods--_obos_--water flowing to us. we altered our course from n. to n.e., rising to , feet, and leaving the high tableland to the west. we arrived at lama chokden (or chorten), a pass protected by a tibetan guard, who quickly turned out, matchlocks in hand, as we approached. they seemed a miserable lot, and not only offered no resistance, but actually begged for money and food. they complained of ill-treatment by their superiors, stating that they received no pay, and even food was only occasionally sent to them at this outpost. their tunics were in rags; each man carried a sword stuck in front through the girdle. here, too, we had more inquiries about the young sahib, as messengers on horseback had been sent post-haste from taklakot to warn the gyanema officer not to let him penetrate into hundes[ ] by the lumpiya pass, should he attempt it. their description of my supposed appearance was very amusing, and when they said that if the sahib came they would have to cut his head off, i felt so touched by their good-natured confidence that i wanted to distribute a few rupees among them. "do not give them anything, sir," said kachi and the doctor. "these fellows are hand and glove with the bands of dacoits; the latter will soon be told that we have money, and we shall run great risk of being attacked at night." i insisted on giving them a present. "no, sir," cried kachi, distressed; "do not do it, or it will bring us no end of trouble and misfortune. if you give them four annas, that will be ample." [illustration: my men salaaming kelas at lama chokden] accordingly the officer in command had this large sum deposited in the outstretched palm of his hand, and to show his satisfaction, he pulled out his tongue to its full length, waving both his hands at me for some minutes, and bowing clumsily at the same time. his fur cap had been previously removed and thrown on the ground. this was indeed a grand salaam, a ceremonious acknowledgment of a gift of something less than fourpence! while the doctor remained in conversation with him, i happened to witness a very beautiful sight. to the north the clouds had dispersed, and the snow-capped sacred kelas mount stood majestic before us. in appearance not unlike the graceful roof of a temple, kelas towers over the long white-capped range, contrasting in beautiful blending of tints with the warm sienna colour of the lower elevations. kelas is some two thousand feet higher than the other peaks of the gangir chain, with strongly defined ledges and terraces marking its stratifications, and covered with horizontal layers of snow standing out in brilliant colour against the dark ice-worn rock. the tibetans, the nepalese, the shokas, the humlis, jumlis and hindoos, all have a strong veneration for this mountain, which is believed by them to be the abode of all the good gods, especially of the god siva. in fact, the ledge round its base is said by the hindoos to be the mark of the ropes used by the devil (rakas) to pull down the throne of siva. my men, with heads uncovered, their faces turned towards the sacred peak, were muttering prayers. with joined hands, which they slowly raised as high as the forehead, they prayed fervently, and then went down on their knees, with heads bent low to the ground. my brigand follower, who was standing close by me, hurriedly whispered that i should join in this act of prayer. "you must keep friends with the gods," said the bandit; "misfortune will attend you if you do not salaam to kelas; that is the home of a good god!" and he pointed to the peak with the most devout air of conviction. to please him i saluted the mountain with the utmost deference, and, taking my cue from the others, placed a white stone on one of the hundreds of _chokdens_ or _obos_ (stone pillars) erected by devotees at this spot. these _obos_, or rough pyramids of stones, are found on the tracks traversing all high passes, near lakes, in fact, everywhere, but rarely in such quantities as at lama chokden. the hill in front, and at the back of the guard-house, was literally covered with these structures. each passer-by deposits a stone on one of them--a white stone if possible--and this is supposed to bring him good fortune, or if he has a wish he desires accomplished, such a contribution will enhance the chances of its fulfilment. the guard-house itself was of rough stone, mean and desolate, and in any country but tibet would not be considered fit accommodation for pigs. after going a mile or so farther, as the sun was fast disappearing, we searched for a suitable spot to pitch our tents. there was no sign of any water, only the stony bed of a dried rivulet. we were discussing the situation, when a faint sound as of rushing water struck our ears. it grew louder and louder, and then we saw coming towards us a stream of limpid molten snow, gradually advancing over the bed of stones. evidently the snow of the mountains had taken all day to melt, and the water was only now reaching this spot. my dacoit was in a great state of excitement. "water flowing to you, sahib!" he exclaimed, with his arms outstretched. "you will have great luck! look! look! you want water for your camp, and a stream comes to you! heaven blesses you. you must dip your fingers into the water as soon as it comes up to you, and throw some drops over your shoulders. then will fortune attend you on your journey." i readily fell in with this tibetan superstition, and we all dipped our fingers, and sprinkled the water behind our backs. wilson, however, who took the matter quite seriously, said it was all nonsense, and would not give in to such "childish fancy." good fortune would have meant much to me, but in the days to come this simple rite proved to have been futile! [ ] hundes = tibet. chapter xxviii an extensive valley--kiang, or wild horse--their strange ways--the gyanema fort--apprehension at our appearance--a parley--"cut off our heads!"--revolt and murder contemplated--hypocritical ways of tibetan officials--help summoned from everywhere--preparing for war. in front of our camp was a great stretch of flat alluvial land, which had been, to all appearance, at some remote time the bed of a large lake about ten miles long and fourteen wide. with my telescope i could see plainly to ° (b.m.), at the foot of a small hill, the camping-ground of karko. there were many tents, and my men seemed much reassured when by their shape and colour we made them out to be those of the joharis from milam, who come over at this place to trade with the hunyas[ ]. to e.n.e. we had a valley extending for many miles between two high ranges, and to the w. and n.w. were hills between us and the darma yangti, flowing there in a n.n.e. direction. beyond karko to the north, a stretch of water, the gyanema lake, showed brilliantly, and beyond it some comparatively low hill ranges. in the distance, more snowy peaks were visible. on leaving camp we traversed the plain for six miles in a n.e. direction, and then, on a course of ° (b.m.), turned into a smaller valley well enclosed by hills, following it for a distance of three or four miles. this formed, as it were, an arm of the other large valley. during our march we saw many large herds of _kiang_ (wild horse). these animals came quite close to us. they resembled zebras in shape and movement of body, but in colour they were mostly light brown. the natives regarded their near proximity as extremely dangerous; for their apparent tameness is often deceptive, enabling them to draw quite close to the unwary traveller, and then with a sudden dash seize him by the stomach, inflicting a horrible wound with their powerful jaws. their graceful and coquettish ways were most taking; we occasionally threw stones at them to keep them at a safe distance, but after cantering prettily away, they would follow us again and come within a few yards. i succeeded in taking some very good negatives, which unfortunately were afterwards destroyed by the tibetan authorities. i still have, however, some of the sketches i made of them. we climbed over another hill range, and descended on the other side into a grassy stretch of flat land, in the northern portion of which was a sheet of water. on a hill south of the lake stood the gyanema khar or fort, a primitive tower-like structure of stones, with a tent pitched over it to answer the purpose of roof, supporting a flagstaff, on which flew two dirty white rags. they were not the colours of hundes, but only wind prayers. lower down, at the foot of the hill, were two or three large black tents and a small shed of stones. hundreds of black, white, and brown yaks were grazing on the green patches of grass. the appearance of our party evidently created some apprehension, for we had hardly shown ourselves on the summit of the col when from the fort a gong began to sound loudly, filling the air with its unmelodious metallic notes. a shot was fired. soldiers with their matchlocks were seen running here and there. they pulled down one of the black tents and hastily conveyed it inside the fort, the greater part of the garrison also seeking shelter within the walls with the _empressement_ almost of a stampede. when, after some little time, they convinced themselves that we had no evil intentions, some of the tibetan officers, followed by their men, came trembling to meet us. the doctor, unarmed, went ahead to talk with them, whereas my bearer and i remained with the coolies for the double purpose of protecting our baggage in case of a treacherous attack, and of preventing my panic-stricken carriers from abandoning their loads and escaping. but matters looked peaceful enough. rugs were spread on the grass, and eventually we all sat down. an hour's trying parley with the tibetan officers, during which time the same things were repeated over and over again, led to nothing. they said they could on no account allow any one from india, whether native or sahib, to proceed, and we must go back. we on our side stated that we were doing no harm. we were pilgrims to the sacred lake of mansarowar, only a few miles farther. we had gone to much expense and trouble. how could we now turn back when so near our goal? we would not go back, and trusted they would allow us to proceed. we treated them courteously and kindly, and probably mistaking this for fear they promptly took advantage of it, especially the magbun[ ] or chief officer in charge of the gyanema fort. his marked humility, of which at first he had made so much display, suddenly turned into arrogance. "you will have to cut off my head," said he with a vicious countenance, "or rather i will cut off yours before i let you go another step." "cut off my head?" cried i, jumping on my feet and shoving a cartridge into my rifle. "cut off my head?" repeated my bearer, pointing with his martini-henry at the official. "cut off our heads?" queried angrily the brahmin and the two christian servants of dr. wilson, handling a winchester and a couple of gourkha _kukris_ (large knives). "no, no, no, no! salaam, salaam, salaam!" poured forth the magbun with the celerity of speech only possessed by a panic-stricken man. "salaam, salaam," repeated he again, bowing down to the ground, tongue out, and depositing his hat at our feet in a disgustingly servile manner. "let us talk like friends!" the magbun's men, no braver than their master, shifted their positions in a nonchalant manner so as to be screened by their superiors in case of our firing, and on second thoughts, judging even such a precaution to ensure them but scanty safety, they one after the other got up, walked steadily away for half-a-dozen steps, to show it was not fear that made them leave, and then took to their heels. the magbun and the other officers who remained became more and more meek. we spoke and argued in a friendly manner for two long hours, but with no appreciable results. the magbun could not decide of his own accord. he would consult with his officers, and he could give us an answer no sooner than the next morning. in the meantime he would provide for our general comfort and ensure our safety, if we would encamp near his tent. this, of course, i well knew to be an expedient to gain time, so as to send for soldiers to barca, north of the rakstal lake, as well as to all the neighbouring camps. i frankly told him my suspicions, but added that i wished to deal fairly with the tibetan authorities before resorting to force. i reminded the magbun again, and made him plainly understand, that we were merely peaceful travellers, and had not come to fight; that i was paying tenfold for anything i purchased from him or his men, and was glad to do so; but at the same time, let the hand beware that dared touch or twist a single hair of any one belonging to my party! the magbun declared that he understood perfectly. he swore friendship, and as friends he begged us to stop over the night near his camp. by the sun and kunju sum (trinity) he gave a solemn oath that we should in no way be harmed. he took humble leave of us and retired. the doctor and i had been sitting in front, next were chanden sing, the brahmin, and the two christians. the carriers were behind. when the magbun had gone i turned round to look at them. behold, what a sight! they one and all were crying miserably, each man hiding his face in his hands. kachi had tears streaming down his cheeks, dola was sobbing, while the daku and the other tibetan in my employ, who had for the occasion assumed a disguise, were concealing themselves behind their loads. serious though the situation was, i could not help laughing at the demoralisation of my men. we pitched our tents, and i had been sitting a while inside one, registering my observations and writing up my diary, when kachi crept in, apparently in great distress. he seemed so upset that he could hardly speak. "master!" he whispered. "master! the tibetans have sent a man to your coolies threatening them that they must betray you or die. they must abandon you during the night, and if you attempt to retain them, they must kill you." at the same time that this agent had been sent to conspire with my coolies, other envoys of the magbun brought huge masses of dry dung to make our fires, conveying to me his renewed declarations of friendship. notwithstanding this, soldiers were despatched in every direction to call for help. i saw them start: one went towards kardam and taklakot; a second proceeded in the direction of barca, and a third galloped to the west. my carriers were evidently preparing a _coup-de-main_ as i watched them through an opening in the tent. they were busily engaged separating their blankets and clothes from my loads, dividing the provisions among themselves, and throwing aside my goods. i went out to them, patiently made them repack the things, and cautioned them that i would shoot any one who attempted to revolt or desert. while the doctor and i sat down to a hearty meal, which rumours in camp said would be our last, chanden sing was entrusted with the preparations for war on our side. he cleaned the rifles with much care, and got the ammunition ready, for he was longing to fight. the brahmin, on whose faithfulness we could also rely, remained cool and collected through the whole affair. he was a philosopher, and never worried over anything. he took no active part in preparing for our defence, for he feared not death. god alone could kill him, he argued, and all the matchlocks in the country together could not send a bullet through him unless god wished it. and if it were the god's decree that he should die, what could be the use of rebelling against it? the two converts, like good christians, were more practical, and lost no time in grinding the huge blades of their _kukris_ to the sharpness of razors. when darkness came a guard was placed, at a little distance off, all round our camp. it seemed likely that a rush on our tent with the help of my treacherous carriers was contemplated, should an opportunity occur. one of us kept watch outside all through the night, and those inside lay down in their clothes, with loaded rifles by them. i can't say that either dr. wilson or i felt particularly uneasy, for the tibetan soldiers with their clumsy matchlocks, long spears, and jewelled swords and daggers, inspired us more with admiration for their picturesque appearance than with fear. [ ] hunyas = tibetans. [ ] _magpun_ or _magbun_ = general-in-chief. chapter xxix arrival of a high official--the barca tarjum--a tedious palaver--the tarjum's anxiety--permission to proceed--a traitor--entreated to retrace our steps--thirty armed horsemen--a pretty speech. quite early the next morning we were roused by the distant sound of tinkling horse-bells. on looking out of the tent, i saw a long row of pack-ponies heavily laden, escorted by a number of mounted soldiers with matchlocks and spears. it was evident that some high official was coming. this advance detachment consisted of his subalterns and his baggage. they took a long sweep far away from our tent and dismounted by the gyanema fort. other soldiers and messengers were constantly arriving in groups from all directions. the leader of one party, with a considerable escort of soldiers, was received with profuse salaams and i concluded that he must be an important personage. after some time a message was sent to us that this new comer, the barca tarjum, practically a potentate equal in rank to a king under a protectorate, wished to have the honour of seeing us. we replied that we were having our breakfast and that we would send for him when we wished to speak to him. our experience had taught us that it was advisable to treat tibetan officials as inferiors, as they were then more subdued, and easier to deal with. at eleven we despatched a messenger to the fort to say we should be pleased to receive the tarjum. he came immediately with a large following, a picturesque figure dressed in a long coat of green silk of chinese shape, with large sleeves turned up, showing his arms up to the elbow; he had a cap similar to those worn by chinese officials, and was shod with heavy long black boots, with large nails under the soles. his long, pale, angular face was remarkable in many ways; it was interestingly stolid, and though somewhat effeminate, had rather fine features; unmistakable signs of depravity indicated his low class of mind and morals. long hair fell in loose curls down to his shoulders, and hanging from his left ear was an earring of large dimensions, with malachite ornaments and a pendant. in his nervous fingers he held a small roll of tibetan material, which he used with both hands as a handkerchief to blow his nose inconsequently every time that he was at a loss to answer a question. the tarjum and his men were profuse in their bows, and there was, as usual, a great display of tongues. these were, i noticed, of an unhealthy whitish colour, caused throughout tibet by excessive tea-drinking, a practice which ruins the digestion, and furs their tongues. we had rugs placed outside our principal tent, and the doctor and i sat on one, asking the tarjum to sit on the one facing us. his followers squatted around him. it is a well-known fact that in tibet, if you are a "somebody," or if you wish people to recognise your importance, you must have an umbrella spread over your head. fortunately, the ever-provident doctor had two in his possession; which two of our men held over our respective heads. the tarjum himself was shaded by a parasol of colossal dimensions, held in position by his secretary. in spite of the extravagant terms of friendship which fell from the tarjum's lips, i was convinced, by close observation of the man's face, that his words were insincere and that it would be unsafe to trust him. he never looked us straight in the face; his eyes were fixed on the ground all the time, and he spoke in a despicably affected manner. i did not like the man from the very first, and, friend or no friend, i kept my loaded rifle on my lap. [illustration: the arrival of reinforcements] after endless ponderous speeches, clumsy compliments, and tender inquiries after all relations they could possibly think of; after tiring parabolic sentences with fine sounds but no meaning; after repeated blowing of the nose and loud coughing, which always came on opportunely when we asked whether they had yet come to a conclusion as to what we should be allowed to do, at last, when my patience was nearly exhausted, our negotiations of the previous day were reopened. we argued for hours. we asked to be allowed to go on. they were still uncertain whether they would let us or not. to simplify matters, and hasten their decision before other reinforcements arrived, the doctor applied for permission to let only eight of us proceed to mansarowar. he (the doctor) himself would remain at gyanema with the remainder of the party as a guarantee of good faith. but even this offer they rejected, not directly, but with hypocritical excuses and delays, for they thought we would not find our way, and that if we did, we should find it very rough, and the climate too severe; that the brigands might attack us, and so on, and so on. all this was very tiresome, and there were signs even of a nasty side to their attitude. i decided to know what i was about. still holding the rifle cocked at safety on my lap, i turned the muzzle of it towards the tarjum, and purposely let my hand slide down to the trigger. he became uncomfortable and his face showed signs of wild terror. his eyes, until now fixed upon the ground, became first unsteady, and then settled fixedly, and with a look of distress, on the muzzle of my rifle. at the same time he tried to dodge the aim right or left by moving his head, but i made the weapon follow all his movements. the tarjum's servants fully shared their master's fear. without doubt the poor fellow was in agony; his tone of voice, a moment before boisterous and aggressive, now dwindled into the humblest intonations imaginable. with much meekness he expressed himself ready to please us in every way. "i see that you are good people," said he in a faint whisper, accompanied by a deep bow. "i cannot give, as i would like to do, my official sanction to your journey forward, but you can go if you wish. i cannot say more. eight of you can proceed to the sacred mansarowar lake. the others will remain here." before giving his final decision he said that he would prefer to have another consultation with his officers. we accorded this readily. the tarjum then presented the doctor with a roll of tibetan cloth. [illustration: the barca tarjum and his officers] i had bathed as usual in the morning, and my turkish towel was spread outside the tent to dry. the tarjum, who showed great interest in all our things, took a particular fancy to its knotty fabric. he sent for his child to see this wonderful material, and when he arrived the towel was placed on the youth's back as if it were a shawl. i at once offered it to him as a present if he would accept it. there were no bounds to his delight, and our relations, somewhat strained a few minutes earlier, became now of the friendliest character. we invited the party inside our tent, and they examined everything with curiosity, asking endless questions. they were now quite jovial and pleasant, and even occasionally amusing. tibetans have a craving for alcohol at all times and they soon asked me if i had any to give them; there was nothing they would like more. as i never carry any when travelling, i could not offer them any recognised drink, but not wishing to disappoint them, i produced a bottle of methylated spirits (which i used for my hypsometrical apparatus). this they readily drank, apparently appreciating its throat-burning qualities, and asked for more. the tarjum complained of an ailment from which he had suffered for some time, and the doctor was able to give him a suitable remedy, and all the other officers received small presents when they departed. in the afternoon a messenger came from the barca tarjum. he had good news for us. the tarjum wished us to understand that "as we had been so kind to him and his followers, he regarded us as his personal friends; and as we were so anxious to visit the mansarowar lake and the great kelas mount, and had already experienced many difficulties and great expense in coming so far, he agreed to eight of our party proceeding to the sacred spots. it was impossible for him to give an official consent, but he repeated again that we could go if we wished." this news naturally delighted me. once at kelas, i felt sure i could easily find some means of going farther. on the same evening, a traitor in our camp sneaked from under the tent in which my men were sleeping, and paid a visit to the tarjum. there is no doubt that he told him i was not the doctor's brother, nor a hindoo pilgrim. he disclosed that i was a sahib, and that i was on my way to lhassa. from what i heard afterwards, it seemed that the tarjum did not quite believe his informant; but fresh doubts arising in his mind, he sent a message during the night, entreating us to return the way we came. "if there is really a sahib in your party, whom you have kept concealed from me, and i let you go on, my head will be cut off by the lhassa people. you are now my friends, and you will not allow this." "tell the tarjum," i replied to the messenger, "that he is my friend, and i will treat him as a friend." in the morning, we found thirty horsemen fully armed posted some hundred yards from our tent. to proceed with the demoralised crowd under me, and be followed by this company, would certainly prove disastrous and i felt again that some ruse was a necessity. much to the astonishment and terror of the armed force and their superiors, the doctor, chanden sing and i, rifles in hand, walked firmly towards the contingent of sepoys. after us came the trembling coolies. the magbun and the tarjum's officers could hardly believe their eyes. the soldiers quickly dismounted, and laid their arms down to show that they had no intention of fighting. we passed them without any notice. the magbun ran after me. he begged me to stop one moment. dola was summoned to interpret his elaborate speech. a pair of prettily embroidered cloth-boots were produced from the loose folds of the official's coat, and he offered them with the following words: "though your face is sunburnt and black, and your eyes are sore (they were not, as a matter of fact, but i wore snow-spectacles), your features tell me that you are of a good family, therefore, you must be a high officer in your country. your noble feelings also show that you would not have us punished for your sake, and now our hearts are glad to see you retrace your steps. let me offer you these boots, so that your feet may not get sore on the long and difficult journey back to your native land." it was neatly put, though the mode of reasoning was peculiar. it was not to my interest to disillusionise the tibetan as to my purpose, so i accepted the boots. the magbun and his guard salaamed to the ground. without further parleying, we left the magbun, and retracing our steps, proceeded in a w.s.w. direction as though we had decided to turn back, and leave the country. chapter xxx spying our movements--disguised sepoys--a gloomy look-out--troublesome followers--another march back--an amusing incident. we reached the summit of the hill and crossed to the other side. my men went on down the slope, but i remained, screened by a large stone, to observe with my telescope the folks at gyanema. no sooner had my last man disappeared on the other side of the pass, than the cavalrymen jumped into their saddles and, raising clouds of dust, galloped after us. this was what i had expected. i hastened to rejoin my men. when down in the plain, i again took my telescope, and watched the sky-line of the hill we had just descended. some thirty heads could be seen peeping over the rocks from among the boulders. the soldiers had evidently dismounted, and were spying our movements. i felt annoyed that they did not openly follow us, if they so wished, instead of watching us from a distance, so i sighted my rifle to eight hundred yards, lay down flat, and took aim at a figure i could see more plainly than the others. the doctor snatched the rifle from my shoulder. "you must not shoot," said he, with his usual calmness; "you might kill somebody." "i only wish to teach these cowards a lesson." "that is all very well. but every man in tibet is so cowardly that the lesson would have to be constantly repeated," answered wilson with his perpetual wisdom. i slung my rifle over my shoulder and made up my mind to start some other time on the cyclopean task i had then so nearly begun. when we had covered a mile or so of the plain, our phantomlike escort crossed the pass, and came full gallop down the hill. i gave orders to my men to halt, seeing which, the soldiers also came to a dead stop. i watched them through the telescope. they seemed to be holding a discussion. at last five men rode full speed northwards, probably to guard the track in that direction. three men remained where they were, and the remainder, as if seized by panic, galloped frantically up the hill again, and disappeared over the summit. we resumed our march. the three horsemen followed a course one mile south of ours, close against the foot of the hills, and lying low upon their ponies' heads, they probably imagined that they were passing us unperceived. seeing that our bearings were for our old camp at lama chokden, they left our line and rode ahead of us. when in the evening we reached lama chokden, two shepherds came to greet us. then another appeared. "our sheep are far away," said they. "we are hungry. we are poor. can we stop near your camp and pick up the food that you will throw away?" "certainly," i replied. "but mind you do not pick up anything else." these simple folk, thinking i should not know them, had left their ponies at the lama chokden guard-house, and, disguised as shepherds, they were now trying to ingratiate themselves with us, with the object of discovering our movements and plans. they were, of course, no other than the three sepoys from gyanema. at each step in our retreat towards the himahlyas my heart became heavier and my spirits more depressed. i was full of stratagems, but to think out plans and to carry them into effect were two different things. how many times had not my schemes been upset? how often had i not had to begin afresh when all seemed ready and in perfect working order?--that, too, when i had plenty of good material at my disposal to work upon. now things had changed altogether for the worse. my chances of success, notwithstanding my incessant struggle, were getting smaller and smaller every day. i could not but feel that there must be an end eventually to the capability and endurance of my followers and myself. it is hard enough to start on a difficult task, but when you are well started, and have already overcome many difficulties, to have to come back and begin again is more than galling. the outlook was dark and gloomy; i stood face to face with apparent failure, and i was uncertain of the loyalty of my own men. at this camp, for instance, the daku (brigand), who had changed his disguise several times since coming in contact with the tibetans, announced his immediate departure. the doctor, with his usual kindness, had already entreated him to remain, but without avail. we well knew that in this region, infested by dacoits, this man was only leaving us to recommence his late marauding habits. he would, in all probability, join some band, and without much doubt we might soon expect a visit during the darkest hours of the night. the daku knew that i carried a large sum of money, and during the last two days his behaviour had been more than strange. had he come across some of his mates? or had he heard from the sepoys that they were in the neighbourhood? the daku had a bundle of his blankets strapped on his back in readiness for immediate departure. my men, distressed at this new danger, came to report it to me. i immediately sent for him. speaking bluntly, and keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, he said: "i am going, sahib." "where?" i inquired. "i have friends near here, and i am going to them." "very good, go," i replied, calmly taking up my rifle. his load was off his shoulder in less time than it takes to describe the event. he resumed his work as usual. one or two other riotous coolies were brought back to reason by similar menaces. i heard later that a band of brigands attacked a party near the frontier only two days after this occurred. another march back! how painful it was to me! yet it was advisable. we went a few miles and encamped on the bank of a rapid stream, the shirlangdu. from this point, with some difficulty and danger, it would be possible to climb over the mountain range during the night, and attempt to elude the spies and watchmen, by crossing the jungle to mansarowar. i made up my mind to attempt this. it seemed to add to the risk to have so large a following as my thirty men, so i decided that only four or five should accompany me. going alone was impracticable, because of the difficulty of carrying sufficient food, or i would have by far preferred it. nevertheless, if the worst came to the worst, i resolved to attempt this latter mode of travelling, and rely on the chance of obtaining food from tibetans. all the loads were made ready. articles of clothing and comfort, niceties in the way of food, and extras in the way of medicines, were left behind to make room for my scientific instruments. each pound in weight more that i dedicated to science meant a pound less food to take us to lhassa. everything that was not of absolute necessity had to be left. two tibetan spies came to camp in the afternoon, in the disguise, as usual, of beggars. they asked for food, and exacted it. their manner was unbearably insulting. this was a little too much for us, and bijesing the johari, and rubso the christian cook, were the first to enter into an open fight with them! they punched and kicked them, driving them down a steep ravine leading to a river, then, assisted by other men in camp, showered stones upon them. the unfortunate intruders, unable to wade quickly across the rapid stream, received as fine a reception as they deserved. this little skirmish amused the camp, but many of the shokas and hunyas in my service were still scared out of their wits. it was quite sufficient for them to see a tibetan to crumble into nothing. chapter xxxi an attempt that failed--a resolution--a smart shoka lad--the plucky chanden sing proposes to accompany me--mansing the leper becomes my servant's servant. the hour fixed for my flight was p.m. five men had been induced to follow me by the offer of a handsome reward. at the hour appointed no single one of them had put in an appearance. i went in search of them. one man had purposely injured his feet and was disabled, another pretended to be dying, the others positively refused to come. they were shivering with fright and cold. "kill us, sahib, if you like," they implored of me, "but we will not follow you." at a.m. all attempts to get even one man to carry a load had proved futile. i had to abandon the idea of starting. my prospects became more gloomy than ever. another march back towards the cold and dreary pass by which i had entered tibet! "you are depressed, mr. landor," remarked the doctor. i admitted the fact. every step backwards was to me like a stab in the heart. i had wished to push on at all costs, and it was only in consideration of my good and kind friend, the doctor, that i had reluctantly refrained from making my way by force. my blood was boiling. i felt feverish. the cowardice of my men made them absolutely contemptible, and i could not bear to see them even. immersed in my thoughts, i walked quickly on, and the rugged way seemed short and easy. i found a suitable spot for our next camp. here before me, and on every side, stood high snowy mountains; there, in front, towered that same lumpiya pass by which i had crossed into tibet with such high hopes. i detested the sight of it on the present occasion; its snowy slopes seemed to mock at my failure. whether it is that storms invariably come when one is depressed, or whether one gets depressed when storms are coming, i am not here prepared to say, but the fact remains that, before we had time to pitch our tents, the wind, which had been high all through the afternoon, increased tenfold. the clouds above were wild and threatening, and snow soon fell in feathery flakes. "what are you going to do?" inquired the doctor of me. "i think you had better return to garbyang, get fresh men, and make another start." "no, doctor. i will die rather than continue this backward march. there will be a far better chance if i go alone, and i have resolved to start to-night, for i am convinced that i shall find my way over the range." "no, no, it is impossible, mr. landor," cried the doctor, with tears in his eyes. "that must mean death to any one attempting it." i told him that i was quite determined. the poor doctor was dumbfounded. he knew that it was useless to try to dissuade me. i went into the tent to rearrange and reduce my baggage, making a load small enough to carry on my back, in addition to the daily kit and instruments. whilst i was making preparations for my journey, kachi ram entered the tent. he looked frightened and perplexed. "what are you doing, sir?" inquired he hurriedly. "the doctor says you are going to leave alone to-night, cross the mountain range, and go to lhassa by yourself." "yes, that is true." "oh, sir! the perils and dangers are too great, you cannot go." "i know, but i am going to try." "oh, sir! then i will come with you." "no, kachi. you will suffer too much. go back to your father and mother now that you have the opportunity." "no, sir; where you go, i will go. small men never suffer. if they do it does not matter. only great men's sufferings are worth noticing. if you suffer, i will suffer. i will come." kachi's philosophy touched me. i ascertained beyond doubt that he meant what he said, and then decided to take him. this was a piece of luck. kachi ram had five bosom friends among the young shoka coolies. they were all friends of the rambang, and in the evenings in camp they often used to join and sing weird songs in honour of the fair maids of their hearts, whom they had left on the other side of the himahlyas. kachi hurried away in a state of feverish excitement. he was back in a few minutes. "how many coolies will you take, sir?" "none will come." "oh, i will get them. will five do?" "yes," i murmured incredulously. my scepticism sustained a shock when kachi returned, buoyant, saying in his peculiar english: "five shokas come, sir. then you, sir, i, sir, five coolies, sir, start night-time, what clock?" "by jove, kachi," i could not help exclaiming, "you are a smart lad." "'smart,' sir?" inquired he sharply, hearing a new word. he was most anxious to learn english, and he had a mania for spelling. "'smart!' what is meaning? how spell?" "s-m-a-r-t. it means 'quick, intelligent.'" "smart," he repeated solemnly, as he wrote the newly-acquired word in a book which i had given him for the purpose. kachi was undoubtedly, in spite of some small faults, a great character. he was a most intelligent, sharp, well-meaning fellow. his never failing good humour, and his earnest desire to learn and to be useful, were quite refreshing. my luck seemed to have turned indeed. a few minutes later my bearer, quite unaware that any one would accompany me, entered the tent, and exclaimed in a disgusted manner: "_shoka crab, sahib! hunya log bura crab. hazur hum, do admi jaldi lhasa giao_." ("the shokas are bad. the hunyas are very bad. your honour and i, we two alone, will go quickly by ourselves to lhassa.") here was another plucky and useful man anxious to come. he professed to have no fear of death. he was the type of man i wanted. how true the poor fellow's protestations were i learned at a later date! chanden sing was a man of strong sporting proclivities. his happiness was complete when he could fire his rifle at something, though he was never known to hit the mark. he had been severely reprimanded and punished by me only a few days before for wasting several cartridges on _kiang_ (wild horse) three miles distant. ordinary work, however, such as doing his own cooking, or keeping my things tidy, was distasteful to him, and was invariably passed on to others. mansing the leper, being unfortunately of the same caste as chanden sing, became my servant's servant. the two hindoos constantly quarrelled and fought, but at heart they were the best of friends. the bearer, by means of promises, mingled at intervals with blows, eventually succeeded in inducing his _protégé_ to join in our new plan, and face with us the unknown dangers ahead. chapter xxxii "devil's camp"--a fierce snowstorm--abandoning our tents--dangers and perils in prospect--collecting the men--one load too many!--another man wanted and found--a propitious night--good-bye to wilson--the escape--brigands. by eight o'clock in the evening i had collected all the men who had promised to follow me. they comprised my bearer, kachi and six coolies. [illustration: "at night i led my men up the mountain in a fierce snowstorm"] we named this camp "devil's camp," for diabolical indeed was the wind that shook our tents, not to speak of the snow blown into our shelters by the raging storm. during the night the wind grew in fury. neither wood, dung, nor lichen for fuel was to be found. our tents were pitched at , feet above sea-level, and to ascend to the summit of the range would mean a further climb of two thousand feet. in such weather the difficulties of the ascent were increased tenfold, though for evading the vigilance of the tibetan watchmen, who spied upon our movements, we could have no better chance than a dirty night like this. i arranged with the doctor that he was to take back to garbyang all the baggage i had discarded and the men who had declined to follow me. he must display all our tents until late in the afternoon of the next day, so as to let the tibetans suppose that we were all under them, and give me time to make a long forced march before they could get on our track. hard as it would be for us going forward, we would take no tent except the small _tente d'abri_, weighing about four pounds. we should anyhow be unable to pitch one for several days, for fear of being detected by the tibetans, who would be soon seen abroad in search of us. we should have to march long distances at night, keeping mostly on the summit of the range, instead of proceeding, like other travellers, along the valleys, and we must get what little sleep we could during the day, when we could hide in some secluded spot. the thought of seeing a fire had to be abandoned for an indefinite period, because, even in the remote contingency of our finding fuel at the great altitudes where we should have to camp, every one knows that a fire and a column of smoke can be seen at a very great distance, both by day and night. we pondered and discussed all these matters before we made a start, and, moreover, we were fully aware that, if the tibetans could once lay their hands upon us, our numbers were too small to offer a stout resistance, and we might well give ourselves up for lost. in fact, taking things all round, i rather doubted whether the lives of my few followers and my own were worth more than a song from the moment of our leaving "devils' camp." with this full knowledge of what we were undertaking, we may have been foolish in starting at all, but lack of determination cannot in fairness be credited as one of our faults. the thoughtful doctor had brought with him from our last camp a few lichens, with which he was now attempting to light a fire, to cook me some _chapatis_ before leaving. alas! four hours' hard work, and an equal number of boxes of matches, failed to produce the semblance of a flame. at midnight i sent chanden sing and kachi to collect the men. two came trembling into the tent; the others could not be roused. i went myself and took them, one by one, to their loads. they were all crying like children. it was then that i discovered that in the haste and confusion i had made one load too many. here was a dilemma! everything was ready and propitious for our flight, and a delay at this juncture was fatal. at any cost, i must have another man. the moans and groans in the coolies' tent, when i went in search of one, were pitiful. you would have thought that they were all going to die within a few minutes, and that they were now in their last agonies, all because of the terror of being picked out to follow me. at last, after endless trouble, threats and promises, bijesing the johari was persuaded to come. but the load was too heavy for him; he would only carry half. to save trouble, i agreed i would carry the other half myself in addition to my own load. we put out our hurricane lantern, and at a.m., when the gale was raging at its height, driving the grit and snow like spikes into our faces; when the wind and cold seemed to penetrate with biting force to the marrow of our bones, when, as it seemed, all the gods were giving vent to their anger by putting every obstacle in our way, a handful of silent men, half frozen and staggering, left the camp to face the blizzard. i ordered my men to keep close together, and we made immediately for the mountain side, taking care to avoid the places where we supposed the tibetan spies were posted. we could not have selected a more suitable night for our escape. it was so dark that we could only see a few inches in front of our noses. the doctor, silent and with a swelling heart, accompanied me for a couple of hundred yards. i urged him to return to the tent. he stopped to grasp my hand, and in a broken voice the good man bade me farewell and god-speed. "the dangers of your journey," whispered wilson, "are so great and so numerous that god alone can guide you through. when i think of the cold, hunger and hardships you will have to endure, i can but tremble for you." "good-bye, doctor," said i, deeply moved. "good-bye," he repeated, "good----" and his voice failed him. two or three steps and the darkness separated us, but his touching words of farewell rang and echoed in my ears, as with sadness i remembered the loyalty and cheerful kindness of this good friend. the journey towards lhassa had recommenced in grim earnest. in a short while our ears, fingers, and toes were almost frozen, and the fast driving snow beat mercilessly against our faces, making our eyes ache. we proceeded like so many blind people, speechless and exhausted, rising slowly higher on the mountain range, and feeling our way with our feet. as we reached greater altitudes it grew still colder, and the wind became more piercing. every few minutes we were compelled to halt and sit close together in order to keep warm and get breath, as the air was so rarefied that we could barely proceed under our heavy loads. we heard a whistle, and sounds like distant voices. my men collected round me, whispered, "_dakus, dakus!_" ("brigands, brigands!"), and then threw themselves flat on the snow. i loaded my rifle and went ahead, but it was vain to hope to pierce the obscurity. i listened. yet another shrill whistle! my shokas were terrified. the sound seemed to come from straight in front of us. we slightly altered our course, winning our way upward slowly and steadily, until we found at sunrise we were near the mountain top. it was still snowing hard. one final effort brought us to the plateau on the summit. here we felt comparatively safe. thoroughly exhausted, we deposited our burdens on the snow, and laid ourselves down in a row close to one another to keep ourselves warm, piling on the top of us all the blankets available. chapter xxxiii s.e. wind--hungry and half frozen--lakes at , feet above sea-level--cold food at high altitudes--buried in snow--mansing's sufferings--fuel at last. at p.m. we woke up, drenched to the skin, the sun having thawed the thick coating of snow over us. this camp was at , feet. the wind from the s.e. cut like a knife, and we suffered from it, not only on this occasion, but every day during the whole time we were in tibet. it begins to blow with great fierceness and regularity at one o'clock in the afternoon, and it is only at about eight in the evening that it sometimes abates and gradually ceases. frequently, however, the wind, instead of dropping at this time, increases in violence, blowing with terrible vehemence during the whole night. as we were making ready to start again, with limbs cramped and stiff, the sky once more became suddenly covered with heavy grey clouds, and fresh snow fell. there was no possibility of making a fire, so we started hungry and half-frozen, following a course of ° (b.m.). we waded up to our waists through a freezingly cold stream, and climbing steadily higher and higher for six miles, we at last reached another and loftier plateau to the n.e. of the one where we had camped in the morning. the altitude was , feet, and we were surprised to find four lakes of considerable size close to one another on this high tableland. the sun, breaking for a moment through the clouds, shone on the snow-covered tops of the surrounding mountains, silvering the water of the lakes, and making a beautiful and spectacular picture, wild and fascinating in effect. hunger and exhaustion prevented full appreciation of the scene; nothing could stand in the way of quickly finding a suitable place to rest our weak and jaded bodies, under the shelter of the higher hills round the plateau, or in some depression in the ground. i was anxious to push across the plateau, and descend on the n.e. side to some lower altitude where we should more probably find fuel, but my men, half-starved and fagged, could go no farther. their wet loads were considerably heavier than usual, they panted terribly owing to the great altitude, and no sooner had we come to a partially sheltered spot between the larger lake and its most eastern neighbouring sheet of water, than they all collapsed and were unable to proceed. i was much concerned about them, as they refused to take any cold food, saying it would cause their death. i was really at a loss to see how they could recover sufficient strength for the next day's marching. eventually, by personally pledging them that they would not die, i persuaded them to eat a little _sato_ and _ghur_. unfortunately, no sooner had they eaten some of it mixed with cold water, than nearly all were seized with violent pains in their stomachs, from which they suffered for the greater part of the night. there is no doubt that experience had taught them that eating cold food at great altitudes is more dangerous than eating no food at all, and i regretted my ill-timed, if kindly meant advice. one is apt to judge other people by oneself, and personally i never felt any difference, whether my food was cold or hot. [illustration: buried in snow] soon after sunset the cold was intense. it was still snowing hard, and our wet garments and blankets were now freezing. i lighted a small spirit lamp, round which we all sat close together, and covered over with our frozen wraps. i even attempted to cook on the flame some concentrated broth, but, owing to the high altitude, the water was a long time losing its chill, apart from boiling, and when it was just getting tepid the flame went out, and i could afford no more spirits of wine to light it again: so the cooking had to be abandoned, and as the night grew colder and colder, we huddled together under our respective blankets in a vain attempt to sleep. we had made a protecting wall with our baggage, and my men covered their heads and everything with their blankets; but i never could adopt their style of sleeping, as it seemed to suffocate me. i always slept with my head uncovered, for not only was it more comfortable, but i wished to be on the alert should we at any time be surprised by tibetans. my men moaned, groaned, and chattered their teeth convulsively during the night. i woke many times with a bad pain in my ears from frostbite; my eyes, too, suffered as the eyelashes became covered with icicles. every time i tried to open them there was an uncomfortable feeling as if the eyelashes were being torn off, for the slit of the eye became fast frozen directly the lids were closed. at last the morning came! the night had seemed endless. when i tried to raise the blanket in order to sit up, it seemed of an extraordinary weight and stiffness. no wonder! it was frozen hard, and as rigid as cardboard, covered over with a foot of snow. the thermometer during the night had gone down to °. i called my men. they were hard to wake, and they, too, were buried in snow. "_uta, uta, uta!_" ("get up, get up, get up!") i called, shaking one by one, and brushing off as much snow as i could. "_baroff bahut!_" ("there is much snow!") remarked one as he put his nose outside his blanket, and rubbed his eyes, smarting from the white glare around us. "salaam, sahib," added he, as, having overcome his first surprise, he perceived me, and he waved his hand gracefully up to his forehead. the others behaved in a similar manner. kachi was, as usual, the last one to wake. "o, kachi," i shouted, "get up!" "_o, bahiyoh!_" ("o, father!") yawned he, stretching his arms. half asleep, half awake, he looked round as if in a trance, muttering incoherent words. "good morning, sir. oh, much snow. oh look, sir, two kiangs there! what is 'kiang' in english?" "wild horse." "'wild' you spell w-i-l-d?" "yes." here the note-book was produced from under his pillow, and the word registered in it. odd creatures these shokas! the average european, half-starved and frozen, would hardly give much thought to exact spelling. poor mansing the leper suffered terribly. he groaned through the whole night. i had given him one of my wrappers, but his circulation seemed suspended. his face was grey and cadaverous, with deep lines drawn by suffering, and his feet were so frozen that for some time he could not stand. again the shokas would eat nothing, for snow was still falling. we started towards the n.e. after a mile of flat we began a steep descent over unpleasant loose _débris_ and sharp rocks. the progress was rapid, but very painful. scouring the country below with my telescope, i perceived shrubs and lichens far down in the valley to the n.e. and also a tent and some sheep. this was unfortunate, for we had to alter our course in order not to be seen. we again climbed up to the top of the plateau and rounded unperceived the mountain summit, striking a more easterly route. towards sunset we began our descent from the latter point, and we crossed the river with no great difficulty. having selected a nicely sheltered depression in the ground, we pitched my little _tente d'abri_ there, by the side of a pond of melted snow. with natural eagerness, we all set out collecting lichens and shrubs for our fires, and each man carried into camp several loads of the drier fuel. in a moment there were three big fires blazing, and not only were we able to cook a specially abundant dinner and drown our past troubles in a bucketful of boiling tea, but we also managed to dry our clothes and blankets. the relief of this warmth was wonderful, and in our comparative happiness we forgot the hardships and sufferings we had so far encountered. with the exception of a handful of _sato_, this was the first solid meal we had had for forty-eight hours. in those two days we had travelled twenty miles, each of us carrying a weight averaging considerably over sixty pounds. we were at , feet, which seemed quite a low elevation after our colder and loftier camping-grounds. the reaction was quite pleasant, and for myself i contemplated our future plans and possibilities with better hope. the outlook had changed from our deepest depression to a condition of comparative cheerfulness and content. chapter xxxiv dacoits--no nonsense allowed--a much-frequented region--a plateau--the gyanema-taklakot track--a dangerous spot--soldiers waiting for us--burying our baggage--out of provisions--a fall into the gakkon river--a bright idea--nettles our only diet. in front of us, to the n.e., was a high mountain, then farther towards the east, a narrow valley between two hill ranges, while at ° (b.m.) a river passed through a picturesque gorge in the direction of the mangshan mountain. it was necessary for me to proceed along the valley to the east, as we should thus save ourselves much trouble, time and exertion, though there would be some risk of our meeting tibetans, especially bands of dacoits, with whom this part of nari khorsum[ ] is infested. we had, therefore, to proceed cautiously, especially as my shokas seemed no less timid and afraid of these folks. we had hardly gone half a mile over the undulating country, and i had stopped behind my men to take some observations with my prismatic compass, when my carriers suddenly threw themselves flat on the ground and began to retreat, crawling on hands and knees. "_dakus, dakus!_" ("brigands, brigands!") they whispered, as i got near them. it was too late. we had been seen, and a number of dacoits, armed with matchlocks and swords, came rapidly towards us. it has always been my experience that, in such cases, the worst thing to do is to run away, for nothing encourages a man more than to see that his opponent is afraid of him. i therefore loaded my mannlicher, and my bearer did likewise with the martini-henry. i gave orders to the shokas to squat down by their respective loads and not stir an inch. we two strolled towards the fast approaching band, now less than a hundred yards distant. i shouted to them to stop, and chanden sing signalled that they must go back; but they took no notice of our warnings, and came on all the faster towards us. undoubtedly they thought that we were only shoka traders, and looked, from experience, to find an easy prey. making ready to rush us as soon as they got near enough, they separated with the obvious intention of taking us on all sides. [illustration: sheep carrying load] "_dushu! dushu!_" ("go back!") i cried angrily at them, raising my rifle to my shoulder and taking a steady aim at the leader. chanden sing followed suit with one of the others, and this seemed to have a salutary effect on them, for they immediately made a comical salaam and took to their heels, chanden sing and i pursuing them for some distance so as to get them well out of our way. having occupied a prominent position on a small mound, we discovered that a short way off they had a number of mates and some three thousand sheep, presumably their last loot. we signalled that they must get away from our course, and eventually, driving their booty before them, they scurried off in the direction i indicated. when they were well clear of us, and my shokas, who thought their last hour had come, had partly recovered from their fright, we proceeded on our journey, entering the narrow valley between the two hill ranges. that we were now in a much-frequented region could be plainly seen from the numerous encamping-grounds alongside the stream. but our success of the morning had raised our spirits, and we stepped out cheerily, keeping to the left bank. a steepish climb brought us to a plateau at an altitude of , feet, from which we obtained a fine view of the snow range running from east to west from the mangshan mountain to the lippu pass, and beyond to the n.e. the four lofty peaks of nimo nangil, , feet, , feet, , feet, , feet. the highest peaks were at °, °, ° (b.m.). this plateau sloped gently, and was broken by many deep crevasses, conveying the water-flow down into the gakkon river. on the lower portion of this plateau, and then along the course of the river, a track ran from gyanema to taklakot _viâ_ kardam and dogmar, and another seldom-frequented track to mangshan, s.s.w. of this place. the edge of the plateau was , feet above sea-level, and the river feet lower. this was for us a very dangerous spot, since, no doubt, by this time the tibetans must be aware that i had escaped and was well on my way into their country. i knew that soldiers and spies must be guarding all the tracks and searching for us. this thoroughfare, being more frequented than the others, was all the more insecure, and we had to display great caution in order to avoid detection. in tibet, i may here note, the atmosphere is so clear that moving objects can be plainly seen at exceptionally long distances. i scoured the country with my telescope, but i could see no one, so we went on. however, my men considered it safer to descend into one of the numerous creeks, where we should be less exposed, but we had hardly reached the border of it when we heard noises rising from the valley below. [illustration: dacoits with a booty of sheep] crawling on our stomachs, my bearer and i peeped over the edge of the plateau. some five hundred feet below was a tibetan encampment, with a number of yaks and ponies grazing. unnoticed, i watched them for some time. there were several soldiers, most probably posted there on the look-out for me. with my glass i recognised some of the gyanema men. we deemed it advisable to find a spot where we could hide until night came. then, making a détour, we descended to the river, , feet, scrambled across in the dark, and made our way up a narrow gorge between high cliffs until we came to a well-hidden spot, where i called a halt. followed by my men, i climbed up from rock to rock on the cliff to our left, and found a small natural platform, sheltered by a huge boulder projecting over it. this seemed a safe enough spot for us to stop. we dared not put up a tent, and we took the precaution of burying all our baggage in case of a surprise during the night. unhampered, we should at any moment be able to hide ourselves away from our pursuers or run before them, and we could always come back afterwards for our things if an opportunity offered itself. and now, just as everything seemed to be running smoothly, i made a terrible discovery. at this stage of the journey, when it was important for me to move very rapidly, i found that we were out of provisions. this was indeed an unpleasant surprise, for before leaving the larger body of my expedition i had given orders to my men to take food for ten days. the doctor, who had been deputed to see to this, had assured me that the loads contained quite enough to last us over that length of time, and now for some unaccountable reason we had only sufficient food for one meagre meal. moreover, i discovered that we had only a few grains of salt left. "what have you done with it?" i inquired angrily, as it immediately flashed across my mind that there had been foul play among my carriers. i had ordered each man to take half seer ( lb.) of salt. "yes, sahib, but we forgot to take it," said the men in a chorus. after the terrible hardships and fatigue we had gone through, and the anxiety and difficulty of carrying on my surveying, photography, sketching, writing, collecting, &c., under conditions of unusual discomfort and risk, it was, indeed, a hard blow to me to see all my plans thus unexpectedly frustrated, for we were still three or four days' journey from mansarowar, where i relied on getting fresh supplies. having come thus far, should i be compelled now to go back or give in, and be captured by the tibetan soldiers whom i had so successfully evaded? though not usually much affected by physical pain, i unfortunately suffer greatly under any mental stress. i felt quite ill and depressed, and, to add bodily discomfort to my moral sufferings, came the fact that i had slipped, while jumping in semi-darkness from stone to stone across the gakkon river, and had fallen flat into about four feet of water. the wind was very high at the time, and the thermometer down to °, so that, sitting in my wet clothes to discuss our present situation with my men, i suddenly became so cold, shivery and exhausted, that i thought i was about to collapse altogether. my usual good spirits, which had done much towards carrying me so far, seemed extinguished; my strength failed me entirely, and a high fever set in, increasing in violence so fast that, notwithstanding my desperate struggle not to give in, i became almost delirious. with my teeth chattering and my temperature at its highest, i saw all my troubles assume an exaggerated form, and failure seemed inevitable. the more i ransacked my brain the more hopeless seemed our position, until, when i was almost in despair, an expedient suddenly flashed across my mind; an idea more adapted for romance perhaps than real life, yet not, i hoped, impossible to be carried into execution. four of my men should go disguised, two as traders and two as beggars, into the takla[ ] fort, and purchase food from my enemies. we remaining in camp would, in the meantime, keep well hidden until they returned. i spoke to my followers, and after some easily conceivable reluctance, four shokas undertook to perform, the daring duty. discovery would mean to them the loss of their heads, probably preceded by cruel tortures of all kinds; so, though they eventually betrayed me, i cannot help giving them credit for the pluck and fidelity they displayed in the present emergency. during the night my men were extremely good to me. we did not sleep for fear of being surprised by the tibetan soldiers, and we passed hour after hour listening to shoka stories of brigands and tibetan tortures, terrible enough not only to keep us awake, but to make every hair on our heads stand on end. early in the morning, when it grew light, we gathered a quantity of nettles, which were to be found in profusion at this camp, and having boiled them in different fashions, we made of them a hearty if not an appetising meal. they did not seem very unpalatable at the time, only it was unfortunate that we had no more salt, for that would have added to the digestibility of our prickly diet. we supplied the deficiency by mixing with them a double quantity of pepper, and it was a relief to know that, while nettles existed near our camp, we should at least not die of starvation. [ ] nari khorsum--name of that province. [ ] takla-khar or taklak t = _takla_ fort. chapter xxxv all that remained of my men's provisions--the plan to enter the fort--appearance of yaks--a band of brigands--erecting fortifications--changes in the temperature--soldiers in search of us! the food supply for my men was now reduced in all to four pounds of flour, two pounds of rice, and two pounds of _sato_. this we gave to the four men who were to attempt to enter taklakot, for their road would be long and fatiguing. for us, there were plenty of nettles to fall back upon. [illustration: behind our bulwarks] i carefully instructed the four shokas how to enter the tibetan fort one by one in their disguises, and purchase, in small quantities at a time, the provisions we required. when a sufficient amount was obtained to make a load, a man should immediately start towards our camp, and the others were to follow separately for a few marches, when at a given spot, they would all four meet again and return to us. it was exciting work to prepare the different disguises and arrange for everything, and at last, after repeated good-byes and words of encouragement, the four messengers left on their perilous errand. all seemed very quiet round us, so quiet that i unburied my sextant and artificial horizon, and was taking observations for longitude as well as for latitude (by double altitudes, as the angle was too great to be measured at noon), when, to our dismay, a herd consisting of over a hundred yaks appeared on the pass, north of our camp, and slowly advanced towards us. were we discovered? were the tarjum's men coming, preceded by their animals? no time was to be lost; instruments and blankets were quickly cleared away and hidden, and then, crawling up towards the animals, who had stopped on perceiving us, we threw stones at them in order to drive them down the next creek. as luck would have it, we were just in time to do this, for from our hiding-place on the summit of the pass we could see, on the other side, a number of tibetans following the yaks we had driven away. they passed only a couple of hundred yards below us, evidently quite unconscious of our presence. they were singing, and apparently looking for somebody's tracks, for they often stooped to examine the ground. later in the afternoon i went to reconnoitre down the gyanema road, and in the hope of watching, unseen, the tibetans who passed on their way to and from taklakot. i saw no soldiers, but a strong band of jogpas (brigands), driving before them thousands of sheep and yaks, was an interesting sight. they all rode ponies, and seemed to obey their leader very smartly, when in a hoarse voice, and never ceasing to turn his prayer-wheel, he muttered orders. they went briskly along in fine style, women as well as men riding their ponies astride. the men had matchlocks and swords, and each pony carried, besides its rider, bags of food slung behind the saddle. i watched the long procession from behind some rocks, and felt somewhat relieved when the last horsemen, who passed only some twenty yards from me, rode away with the rest of the caravan. i retraced my steps, and judging that this camp was not quite so safe as i had at first supposed, i proceeded, with the aid of my men, to erect a rough entrenchment and wall round our platform, along the rock under which we lived. these bulwarks answered the double purpose of sheltering us from the sight of the tibetans and of acting as fortifications in case of a night attack. all our things were buried a little way above our camp. another long dreary day had elapsed. we had used our last grain of salt; and yet another day on nettles alone; and a third day and a fourth, on the same diet! how sick we got of nettles! the days seemed endless as, lying flat on a peak above our camp, i remained hour after hour scanning with my telescope the long plateau above the gakkon river in search of our returning messengers. every time i perceived men in the distance my heart leaped, but on focussing them with my glass they turned out to be jogpas (bandits), or dogpas (nomad tribes of smugglers), or travelling humlis or jumlis, on their way to gyanema and gartok. and how many times did we not listen and then anxiously peep through the fissures in our fortifications when some unusual noise struck our ears! as time went on, and they did not put in an appearance, we began to entertain doubts as to their safety, or would they betray us and never return? or, as was more likely, had they been caught by the jong pen (the master of the fort), and been imprisoned and tortured? my bearer, who was somewhat of a _bon vivant_, declined to eat any more food, as he said it was better not to eat at all than to eat the same thing constantly. he swore he could fast for ten days, and he made up for want of food by sleeping. my fortified abode was comfortable enough during the morning, when the sun shone on it, though often it got so warm that we had to abandon it in the middle of the day, when the thermometer registered as much as °, °, and even °. from p.m. till at night a bitter wind blew from the s.e., and seemed to get right into our bones; so cold was it that the temperature suddenly dropped down to °, and even lower, the moment the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and continued to fall as low as °, ° and °; the minimum during the night. one night we had a terrible gale and a snowstorm. such was the force of the wind, that our wall was blown down upon us as we slept in its shelter, and the hours we had dedicated to rest had to be spent in repairing the damage done. on the following morning we were gathering nettles for our meal, when we heard the distant tinkling of fast approaching horse-bells. we quickly put out the fires, hid our things, and hastened behind our entrenchment. i seized my rifle; chanden sing loaded the martini. a shoka, who was too far off to reach our fortified abode in time, screened himself behind some rocks. in the nick of time! half-a-dozen sepoys with matchlocks, to which were attached red flags, slung over their shoulders, were cantering gaily up the hillside only a few yards in front of us. they were undoubtedly searching for me, judging by the way they looked in every direction, but fortunately they never turned towards the castle walls that concealed us. they were expecting, i presumed, to see a large european tent in one of the valleys, and never even dreamt that we should be where we were. we covered them well with our rifles, but we had no occasion to fire. they rode on, and the sound of their horse-bells grew fainter and fainter as they disappeared behind the pass. to be sure these horsemen could only be soldiers despatched by the tarjum to guard this track. they were now probably on their way back to him, satisfied that the sahib was not to be found in that part of the country. chapter xxxvi "terror camp"--two more messengers leave camp--a tribe of dogpas--a strange sahib--our messengers return from taklakot--the account and adventures of their mission--in great distress--two fakirs who suffered through me--five hundred rupees offered for my head--the shokas want to abandon me--a plot--how it failed. we named this spot "terror camp," for many and horrible were the experiences that befell us here. another weary day dragged slowly to its close, and there was still no sign of the messengers' return. two men volunteered to go into kardam, a settlement some miles off, and try to obtain food from the tibetans. one of them had a friend at this place, and he thought he could get from him sufficient provisions to enable us to go on a few days longer. they started, disguised as pilgrims, a disguise not difficult to assume, for their clothes were falling to pieces owing to the rough marching we had done of late. they were away the whole day, and only returned late at night, having an amusing tale to tell. meeting a tribe of dogpas, they had boldly entered their camp, asking to purchase food. unfortunately the dogpas had not sufficient for themselves, and could not spare any. incidentally my men were informed that _lando plenki_--the name the tibetans had given me--had taken a large army of men into tibet, and that great excitement prevailed at taklakot as well as at other places, owing to the fact that the sahib had the extraordinary power of making himself invisible when the tibetan soldiers were in his vicinity. he had been reported as having been seen in many places in tibet: soldiers had been despatched in all directions to capture him. his tracks had several times been discovered and followed, and yet he could never be found. messengers had been hastily sent out from taklakot to lhassa (sixteen days' journey), and to gartok, a great bazaar in west tibet, asking for soldiers to assist in the capture of this strange invader, who was also said to have the power of walking on the water when crossing the rivers, and of flying over mountains when he chose. when i recalled our struggles and sufferings in climbing over the mountains, and in crossing the streams on our journey, this account of myself given by the tibetans, and now repeated to me, struck me as almost cruelly ironical. anyhow, i was pleased that the tibetans credited me with such supernatural powers, for it could hardly fail to be an advantage in keeping them from getting to too close quarters with us. three more days had to be spent in a state of painful uncertainty and anxiety regarding the fate of our messengers to taklakot. on the night of the rd we had retired to our fortress in despair, fearing that they had been captured and probably beheaded. it was p.m., and we were worn out and ready to turn in; our fire down below at the bottom of the creek was slowly dying out, and nature around us was still and silent, when i suddenly heard sounds of approaching steps. we listened, peeping through the fissures in our wall. were these tibetans trying to surprise us in our sleep, or could they be our men returning at last? we closely watched the gorge from which the sounds came, faint sounds of voices and of footsteps. silent as we were, there were not wanting signs of the nervous excitement of my men. at last four staggering figures crawled cautiously into camp, and we could not even then discern in the dim light whether these were our messengers or not. "_kuan hai?_" ("who is there?") i shouted. "dola!" replied a voice, and instantly we gave them a joyful and hearty greeting. but our happiness was not to last long. the men did not respond. they seemed quite exhausted, and apparently terrified. i asked them to explain the cause of their distress, but, sobbing and embracing my feet, they showed great disinclination to tell me. grave, indeed, was the news they brought, presaging much trouble in store. "your days are numbered, sahib," at last cried dola. "it is impossible for you to get out of this country alive ... they will kill you, and the jong pen of taklakot says that he must have your head at all costs." "do not look so far ahead, dola," i replied, trying to calm him, "but tell me first how you reached taklakot." "oh, sahib, we followed your plan. we suffered much on the road, as the marches were long and severe, and we had very little food. we walked day and night for two days, keeping away from the track, and hiding whenever we saw any one. when we got near the tibetan fort, we saw at the foot of the hill a few tents of the tinker and chongur shokas from nepal. none of the biassi or chaudassi shokas had been allowed to enter tibet owing to the jong pen's anger with them regarding his claims for land revenue. there was a guard day and night at the river, and a sharp look-out was kept to stop and arrest anybody entering the country. two fakirs, who were on a pilgrimage to the sacred mansarowar, unaware of the danger, had crossed over the lippu pass, and had proceeded down to taklakot, where they were immediately seized and accused of being you, sahib, in disguise. as the tibetans were not quite certain as to which of the two was the real sahib, they severely punished both, beating them almost to death. what became of them afterwards we were unable to learn. anyhow, the tibetans subsequently found out that you had entered tibet by another pass, and soldiers have been sent in every direction to look for you. "no sooner did we appear at taklakot," sobbed dola, "than we were pounced upon, knocked about, and arrested. they cross-examined us closely. we professed to be johari traders, who had run short of food, and had made for taklakot to buy provisions. they beat us and treated us badly, until your friend zeniram, the head village man of chongur (in nepal), came to our rescue and gave thirty rupees surety for us. we were then allowed to remain in his tent, guarded by tibetan soldiers. we secretly purchased from him and packed the provisions, and at night zeniram succeeded in decoying the soldiers that were guarding us into his tent, and gave them _chökti_ to drink until they became intoxicated. one by one we four succeeded in escaping with our loads. for three nights we marched steadily back, concealing ourselves during the day for the sake of safety. now we have returned to you, sahib." dola paused for a minute or two. "sahib," he continued, "we were told in taklakot that over a thousand soldiers are searching for you everywhere, and more are expected from lhassa and sigatz,[ ] whither the jong pen has hastily sent messengers. they fear you, sahib, but they have orders from lhassa to capture you at all costs. they say that you can make yourself invisible when you like, and exorcisms are made and prayers offered daily, so that in future you may be seen and arrested. once caught, they will have no pity on you, and you will be beheaded, for the jong pen is angry with you owing to the defiant messages you sent him from garbyang. he has given orders to the soldiers to bring you back dead or alive, and whoever brings your head will receive a reward of rupees." "i had no idea that my head was so valuable," i could not help exclaiming. "i shall take great care of it in the future." as a matter of fact rupees in tibet represents a fortune, and the man possessing it is a very rich man. but my men were not in a laughing mood and they looked upon the whole affair as very serious. i gave a handsome backshish to the four men who had brought the provisions, but that did not prevent all the shokas declaring that the danger was so great that they must leave me there and then. appeals are useless on such occasions, and so i simply stated that i should shoot any man attempting to leave camp. having now provisions for ten days, i informed them that we must at once push on. sulky and grumbling they left our fortified corner and went below to the creek. they said they preferred sleeping down there. i suspected them, however, and i sat up watching them and listening instead of sleeping. my bearer rolled himself up in his blanket and, as usual, was soon asleep. the shokas lighted a fire, sat round it, and with their heads close together, held an excited council in semi-whispers. in the heated discussion some spoke louder than they imagined, and the night being particularly still and the place well adapted for carrying sound, i overheard words which put me on the alert, for i soon convinced myself that they were arranging to sell my head ... yes ... and to divide the money. the men got closer together, and spoke so faintly, that i could hear no more. then they each in turn placed one hand above the other along a stick, until the end of it was reached; each man then passed it to his neighbour, who went through the same form; a complicated manner of drawing lots, common among the shokas. eventually the man selected by fate drew from a load a large gourkha _kukri_, and removed its scabbard. a strange, almost fantastic impression remains on my mind of the moment when the men, with their faces lighted by the small flame of the flickering fire, all looked up towards my eyrie. the culminating point of their treachery had come, and their countenances seemed ghastly and distorted, as seen from the fissure in the wall behind which i knelt. they listened to hear if we were asleep. then all but one rolled themselves in their blankets, completely covering their heads and bodies. the one figure i could now see sat up by the fire for some time, as if absorbed in thought. every now and then he turned his head up towards my fortress, and listened. at last he got up, and with his feet smothered the fire. it was a lovely night, and as soon as the reddish flame was put out the stars shone again like diamonds in the small patch of deep blue sky visible above my head. i rested the barrel of my rifle on the wall, my eyes being fixed on the black figure down below. i watched as, stooping low, it crawled step by step the few yards up to my abode, pausing to listen each time that a rolling stone caused a noise. it was now only two or three yards away, and seemed to hesitate. drawing back, and ready to spring up, i kept my eyes fixed on the top of the wall. i waited some time, but the man was in no hurry, and i grew impatient. i slowly got up, rifle in hand, and as i raised my head above the wall i found myself face to face with the man on the other side. i lost no time in placing the muzzle of my mannlicher close to his face, and the perplexed shoka, dropping his _kukri_, went down on his knees to implore my pardon. after giving him a good pounding with the butt of my rifle, i sent him about his business. the man lacked the qualities of a murderer, but i felt i had better see that no other disturbance took place during the night. it is true that two men attempted to crawl out of camp and desert, but i discovered this and stopped them in time. at last the sun rose, and the night ended with all its troubles and anxieties. [ ] sigatz, usually called "shigatze" by english people. chapter xxxvii a tibetan guard's encampment--nattoo volunteers to be a guide--treachery and punishment of the shokas--all ways forward barred to me--evading the soldiers by another perilous march at night--mansing again lost--a marvellous phenomenon--sufferings of my men--severe cold. on my last scouting journey up the hill above the camp, i had espied, by the aid of my telescope, the encampment of a guard of tibetans, about three miles north of us, and i informed my followers of this fact. in the morning, when we again dug up the main part of our baggage and made ready to start, one of the men, the kutial nattoo, came forward and professed to be able to guide us directly to the mansarowar lake. he seemed very anxious to undertake this task, saying that there would be no chance of detection by the route he knew, and consequently we might march during the daytime. we started up the creek, led by this man, and i was astonished at the willingness with which the shokas agreed to proceed. in a little time i felt convinced that he was deliberately taking us to the spot i most wished to avoid. on my remonstrating and stopping further progress in that direction, the shokas mutinied and, depositing their loads, tried to escape, but my bearer quickly barred their way ahead in the narrow creek and i prevented their escape from the opposite side, so they had to surrender. painful as it was to me, i had to severely punish them all, and while i took care that no one should bolt, chanden sing took special pleasure in knocking them about until they were brought back to their senses. on being closely cross-examined, they openly confessed that they had made a plot to hand me over to the tibetan guard, in order to escape the horrors of torture by the tibetans. this last act of treachery, coming after what had happened during the night, and from the very men whom i had just been more than lenient towards, was too much for me, and i used a stick, which chanden sing handed me, very freely on their backs and legs, nattoo the kutial receiving the largest share of blows, because he was undoubtedly the head of the conspiracy. on climbing to a point of vantage, i now further discovered that, besides the guard we had to the north of us, both east and west our way was barred by tibetan soldiers, and although it was not possible to get on during the day without being seen, i absolutely refused to go back south. i held a palaver with my men, who were apparently resigned, and they agreed to accompany me as far as the maium pass (on the road to lhassa), which we reckoned to be some fifteen or eighteen marches. they further agreed to endeavour to obtain yaks and food for me, and i was then to dismiss them. from the summit of the hill i had climbed, i had taken careful bearings, and when night came, aided by my luminous compass, i led my men high up along the mountain range at an average elevation of feet above the gyanema-taklakot track. the night was dark and stormy, and we encountered much difficulty in our journey forward owing to the slippery ground, alternated with the ever troublesome loose _débris_ and shifting rocks. we could not see far ahead, and though we well knew from the angle of the slope that we were travelling along a precipice, we could not distinguish anything under us except a peculiarly luminous streak far, far down below--undoubtedly the river. i could not explain this luminosity of the water, which did not seem to come from reflection of the light of stars or the moon, because the sky was very cloudy at the time. moreover, the river had a curious greenish tint quite peculiar to itself, and closely resembling the light produced by an electric spark. in the more dangerous spots we had to proceed for long distances on all-fours, and even then we felt hardly safe, for we could hear the rattling of the stones rolling down the steep slope, and by this sound we could judge that we were proceeding over a precipice of extraordinary height. so difficult and painful was the walking, that it took us four hours to go about three miles; and we felt so exhausted, that from time to time we had to lie down and rest, shivering with cold, and our hands bleeding from cuts caused by the sharp stones. i mustered my men. poor mansing the leper was missing. when we last saw him he was moaning under his load, and he constantly stumbled and fell. two men were sent in search, but after an hour's absence they failed to discover him. the faithful chanden sing and the shoka dola were then despatched, as i would not abandon the poor wretch if by any means he could be saved. after another hour of anxiety, the two returned, bringing the unfortunate coolie with them. the poor fellow's hands and feet were badly cut, and the pain in the latter was so great that he could not stand erect. he had fallen fainting from exhaustion, and it was by a mere stroke of luck that in the darkness chanden sing stumbled against his senseless body. apart from his life, his loss would have been a very serious matter for me, as he carried my bedding and photographic cameras. sleet and rain commenced to fall, and the cold was intense. we continued to climb steadily, chanden sing and i helping the poor leper along. the march soon became less difficult, as we were following a depression formed by the action of melting snows, and were sheltered from the piercing wind which had been hitherto driving the sleet hard into our faces. we slowly covered some three miles more, and during that time the storm passed away, leaving the atmosphere beautifully clear. when we reached the pass (over , feet), a curious optical phenomenon astonished us all. the larger stars and planets, of a dazzling brilliancy such as i had never in my life seen before, seemed to swing to and fro in the sky with rapid and sudden jerks, describing short arcs of a circle, and returning each time to their normal position. the effect was so weird, that the first thing that struck me was that something had gone wrong with my vision, but my companions saw the same phenomenon: another curious thing was that the stars nearer the horizon disappeared and reappeared behind the mountain range. the oscillations of the heavenly bodies nearer the horizon were less rapid, but the angle of the arc described measured almost double that traced by the stars directly above our heads. the oscillations of these, however, were very much more rapid, especially at certain moments, when the star itself could no more be discerned, and a continuous line of light appeared on the deep blue background of the sky. this strange optical illusion, which began soon after the storm had entirely cleared away, lasted some time; then the vibrations gradually became less violent, and stars and planets eventually resumed their normal steadiness, and shone with great brilliancy and beauty. we crossed the pass, and halted directly on the northern side of it, for my men's feet were in such a condition that they could bear the pain no longer. the minimum temperature was but °, and as we had no tent there was only a blanket between us and heaven. when we woke in the morning, we found the thermometer had risen to °, but we were enveloped in a thick mist which chilled us to our very marrow. i had icicles hanging down my moustache, eyelashes and hair, and my cheeks and nose were covered with a thin layer of ice caused by the respiration settling and congealing on my face. chapter xxxviii night marching--the lafan and mafan lakes--tize, the sacred kelas--rhubarb--butterflies--a hermit lama--more dacoits--surrounded by them--routed. during our night marches, up and down mountain ranges of considerable height, we naturally had adventures and escapes far too numerous to relate here in exact detail, and i shall not give a full description of each march on account of the unavoidable monotony of such a narrative. in constant storms of grit and snow we crossed range after range, travelling during the night and hiding by day, camping at very great altitudes and undergoing considerable privations. i steered my men towards the rakstal[ ] lake, and one day, having risen to , feet, we obtained a magnificent view of the two great sheets of water, the lafan-cho and mafan-cho, or rakstal and mansarowar lakes, by which latter names they are more commonly known to non-tibetans. to the n. of the lakes stood the magnificent tize, the sacred kelas mountain, overtopping by some two thousand feet all the other snowy peaks of the gangri chain, which extended roughly from n.w. to s.e. from this spot we could see more distinctly than from lama chokden the band round the base of the mountain, which, according to legend, was formed by the rope of the rakas (devil) trying to tear down this throne of the gods. tize, the great sacred peak, is of fascinating interest, owing to its peculiar shape. it resembles, as i have said, the giant roof of a temple, but to my mind it lacks the gracefulness of sweeping curves such as are found in fujiama of japan, the most artistically beautiful mountain i have ever seen. tize is angular, uncomfortably angular, if i may be allowed the expression, and although its height, the vivid colour of its base, and the masses of snow that cover its slopes, give it a peculiar attraction, it nevertheless struck me as being intensely unpicturesque, at least from the point from which i saw it, and from which the whole of it was visible. when clouds were round it, toning down and modifying its shape, tize appeared at its best from the painter's point of view. under these conditions, i have thought it very beautiful, especially at sunrise, with one side tinted red and yellow, and its rocky mass standing majestic against a background of shiny gold. with my telescope i could plainly distinguish, especially on the e. side, the defile along which the worshippers make the circuit at the base of the mountain, though i was told that some pilgrims actually march round it on the snowy ledge directly over the base, and just above the darker band of rock described before. on the s.w. side can be seen, on the top of a lower peak, a gigantic obo. [illustration: our first view of rakastal] the peregrination round tize usually takes three days, though some accomplish it in two days, and under favourable circumstances it has even been done in one day. it is usual for the pilgrims to say certain prayers and make sacrifices as they proceed, and the more fanatical perform the journey serpentwise, lying flat on the ground; others, again, do it on their hands and knees, and others walking backwards. tize, or kelas, has an elevation of , feet, and nandiphu, w. of it, , feet, while n.w. of the sacred mountain are visible other summits , feet, , feet, and , feet. animal life seemed to abound, for while i was sketching the panorama before me, a snow leopard bounded gracefully past us. i had a shot or two at _thar_, and we saw any number of _kiang_. we found rhubarb, which seemed to be thriving, at so high an elevation as , feet, and quantities of yellow flowers in the same locality and at the same elevation; and at , feet i netted two couples of small white and black butterflies. they seemed to have great difficulty in flying, and hardly rose more than two or three inches off the ground, flapping their wings irregularly; they seldom flew more than a few feet, and then remained motionless for long periods before they attempted to fly again. i had come across the same kind of butterfly at lower altitudes, , feet and , feet, and i invariably found them in couples. on nearing the lakes, the atmosphere seemed saturated with moisture, for no sooner had the sun gone down than there was a heavy dew, which soaked our blankets and clothes. we were at , feet in a narrow marshy creek in which we had descended _à pic_ from the last mountain range. from the summit of the range we had seen many columns of smoke rising from the neighbourhood of the rakas lake, and we judged that again we must proceed with great caution. we cooked our food, and in the middle of the night, for greater safety, we shifted our camp on the summit of the plateau in a north-easterly direction, and continued our journey in the morning, high above the magnificent blue sheet of the devil's lake with its pretty islands. "sahib, do you see that island?" exclaimed the kutial, pointing at a barren rock that emerged from the lake. "on it," he continued, "lives a hermit lama, a saintly man. he has been there alone for many years, and he is held in great veneration by the tibetans. he exists almost entirely on fish, and occasional swan's eggs, and only in winter, when the lake is frozen, is communication established with the shore, and supplies of _tsamba_ are brought to him, for they have no boats in rakastal, nor any way of constructing rafts, owing to the absence of wood. the hermit sleeps in a cave, but generally comes out in the open to pray to buddha." during the following night, when everything was still, a slight breeze blowing from the north brought to us, faint and indistinct, the broken howls of the hermit. "what is that?" i asked of the shokas. "it is the hermit speaking to god. every night he climbs to the summit of the rock, and from there addresses his prayers to buddha the great." "how is he clothed?" i inquired. "in skins." [illustration: rakastal and ... mansarowar lakes] late in the afternoon we had an amusing incident. we came to a creek in which were a number of men and women, hundreds of yaks and sheep, and some thirty ponies. the shokas became alarmed, and immediately pronounced the folks to be brigands. i maintained that they were not, and as kachi expounded the theory that the only way to distinguish dakus from honest beings was to hear them talk (the dakus he declared usually shout at the top of their voices when conversing, and use language far from select, while well-to-do tibetans speak gently and with refinement), i thought the only thing to do was to go and address the people, when by the tone of voice we should find out what they were. this, however, did not suit my shokas, and we were placed in rather a curious position, for to proceed we must either pass by the tibetan encampment, or we must march southwards round a mountain, which would involve considerable trouble, fatigue, and waste of time. we waited till night came, watching, unseen, the tibetans below us. as is customary with them, they retired at sundown to their tents. leaving my men behind, i crawled into their camp during the night and peeped into one of the tents. the men were squatting on the ground, round a fire in the centre, upon which steamed two vessels with stewing tea. one old man, with strongly-marked mongolian features, accentuated by the heavy shadows which were cast by the light of the fire above his angular cheek-bones and prominent and wrinkled brow, was busily revolving his prayer-wheel from left to right, repeating in a mechanical way the usual _omne mani padme hun_, words which come from the sanscrit, and refer to the reincarnation of buddha from a lotus flower, meaning literally, "o god, the gem emerging from a lotus flower." two or three other men, whose faces i could not well see, as they were stooping very low, were busy counting money and examining several articles of indian manufacture, which undoubtedly had been seized from shokas. it was fortunate that they had no dogs in this camp, for i, having discovered our best way to pass them unperceived, went back to my men and led them, in the middle of the night, through the camp itself. we proceeded for a mile or so beyond the encampment, and having selected a well-sheltered spot where we could rest without fear of discovery, we laid down our loads and tried to get a few hours' sleep. waking at sunrise we were startled to find ourselves surrounded by a band of dacoits. they were our friends of the previous night, who, having followed our tracks, and mistaking us for shoka traders, had now come for a little festive looting. on drawing near they were given a somewhat warm reception, and their instant retreat was more speedy than dignified. [ ] _rakastal_--devil's lake, also very frequently pronounced rakstal. chapter xxxix spied and followed by robbers--jogpas' hospitality--hares--tibetan charms resisted--attempt to snatch chanden sing's rifle out of his hands--the ridge between rakas and mansarowar lakes. we wended our way along a narrow valley towards the shore of the devil's lake, halting to cook our food about half a mile from the water's edge, and i took this opportunity to make observations for longitude. also altitude with hypsometrical apparatus. water boiled at ° with temperature of atmosphere at °. i had just repacked my instruments, and was lying flat in the sun, some distance away from my men, when i thought i saw something move. jumping up, i beheld a stalwart tibetan stealing along the ground only a few yards away from me, with the object no doubt of taking possession of my rifle before i had time to discover him. unfortunately for him, he was not quick enough, and all that he gained for his attempt was a good pounding with the butt of my mannlicher. he was one of the dakus we had seen in the morning, and no doubt they had followed and spied upon us all along. having got over his first surprise, the dacoit, with an amusing air of assumed innocence, requested us to go and spend the night in his tent with him and his mates. they would treat us right royally, he said. being, however, well acquainted with the hospitality of dacoits, we declined the invitation. the brigand went away somewhat shaken and disappointed, and we continued our journey along the water-edge of the devil's lake (rakas-tal), where hundreds of hares sprang from under our feet, several of which i killed with my rifle, using bullet cartridges. there were signs all along that at some previous epoch the level of the lake must have been much higher than it is at present. marching during the day we encountered many tibetans, some of whom were dogpas, others jogpas. when they saw us approaching they generally bolted, driving their sheep or yaks in front of them. nevertheless, we came upon two tibetan women, very dirty, and their faces smeared with black ointment to prevent the skin from cracking in the high wind. they were dressed in long sheepskin garments, worn out and filthy, and their coiffures were so unwashed that they emitted a sickening odour. i ordered them not to come too near us, for although these females had no claims whatever to beauty--and, as far as i could see they possessed no other charm--one being old and toothless, the other with a skin like a lizard, they actually tried to decoy us to their tents, possibly with the object of getting us robbed by their men. my men seemed little attracted by the comical speeches and gestures with which they sought to beguile us, and i pushed on so as to be rid of this uncanny pack as soon as possible. four tibetans, who attempted to snatch chanden sing's rifle out of his hand, received from him a battering that they were unlikely soon to forget, and after this we were fortunately left alone for the remainder of the day. in the evening, chanden sing fired at a black wolf which came close to camp, and i discovered, about one hundred feet above lake-level, imbedded in the mountain side, a stratum of gigantic fossils, which, owing to their size and weight, i regretted to be unable to dig out and carry away. feeling almost certain that we were being spied upon all the time by the numerous jogpas we had met, we attempted to dodge them by pretending to encamp before sunset. however, we only lighted a fine fire, and then after dark escaped, walking and stumbling for several miles, until we found a spot high on the hillside where we considered ourselves safe. snow fell heavily during the night, and, as usual, we woke up with icicles hanging from our moustaches, eyelashes and hair, notwithstanding which we really were quite happy and well. it was my good fortune to make quite sure from many points that, as can be seen from the illustration reproduced in these pages, the ridge between the rakas and mansarowar lakes is continuous, and no communication between the two lakes exists. with the exception of a small depression about half-way across, the ridge has an average height of feet all along, a fact which ought in itself to dispose of the theory that the two lakes are one. i also further ascertained from the natives that there is no communication whatever between them, though the depression in the ridge makes it probable that at a very remote period some connection existed. the lowest point in this depression is over feet above the level of the lake. [illustration: a dacoit] chapter xl more robbers--the friends of tibetan authorities--a snap-shot--a meek lot--prepossessing female and her curious ways--the purchase of two yaks. just before leaving the shores of the rakstal i had a great slice of luck. it happened thus. we had been detected by another band of dacoits who were trying their hardest to overtake us. i had been spying them with my telescope as they rode in our direction. they were driving some twenty yaks in front of them at an unusually fast pace. the dacoits rode ponies. we were about a mile and a half ahead of them now, and close to the edge of the devil's lake. we saw them coming down the hillside at a breakneck speed straight in our direction. it was evident that they were after us. my men became terror-stricken when i gave the order to halt. the band of dacoits approached and left the yaks in charge of two women. when they galloped in a line towards us, my men, with the exception of chanden sing and mansing, were paralysed with fright. they were now a hundred yards off. with loaded rifle in one hand, and my camera in the other, i advanced to meet them, knowing that, with their old-fashioned matchlocks, it takes them a considerable time to light the fuse and fire a shot. moreover, it is almost an impossibility for them to fire on horseback, their weapons being heavy and cumbersome. [illustration: the bandits laid down their arms] i focused them in my twin lens photographic apparatus, and waited till i had them well in the field. i snapped the shot when they were only thirty yards away, vaulting over their ponies in the act of dismounting. the camera, having done its work, was quickly deposited on the ground, and the rifle shouldered. i shouted to them to put down their weapons, and to give force to my request i aimed at them with my mannlicher. a meeker lot of brigands i do not believe could be found, though people of that kind are often brave when it is easy for them to be courageous. their matchlocks were unslung from their shoulders with remarkable quickness and flung to the ground, and their jewelled swords were laid by the side of their firearms. they went down on their knees, and taking off their caps with both hands, put out their tongues in sign of salute and submission, and i could not help taking another snap-shot at them in that attitude, which was comical, to say the least of it. my bearer, who had been left to look after the baggage, had placed mansing in charge, and was now by my side with the martini-henry, when one of the women, riding astride, arrived on the scene. she was evidently furious at the cowardice of her men, and i liked her for that. she jumped off her steed, ejaculated words at the top of her voice, shaking her fists at the men still kneeling before me, and at last, foaming with rage, spat on them. while thus haranguing the band of highwaymen, she had an annoying way of pointing at my baggage, but her speech seemed to have little effect on the submissive crowd. i, therefore, went up to her, patted her on the back, and gave her a rupee to hold her tongue. she grabbed the coin and rubbed it on her skin coat to make the silver shine. she instantly became calm, and rubbing the coin until it was quite bright, she raised her fiery eyes, staring into mine, and pulled out her tongue to express her thanks. kachi and dola, who knew tibetan well, were now summoned to address the filibusters for me, and these two shokas were in such trepidation that they could hardly walk, much less speak. after a while, however, seeing how well i had these supposed terrific rangers under control, they were at last able to translate. "i want them to sell me some yaks and some ponies," i said. "i will pay handsomely for them." "they say they cannot. the tarjum will cut their heads off if he comes to know it. they will only sell one or two yaks." "very good. how much do they want?" "two hundred silver rupees. but," added dola, "sahib, do not give them more than forty. that is a great deal more than they are worth. a good yak costs from ten to sixteen rupees." after some three or four hours' bargaining, during which time the bandits descended gradually from two hundred rupees to forty and i rose from twenty to that figure, we at last agreed, amidst the greatest excitement on both sides, that their two best yaks should become my property. i then, becoming quite friendly, purchased pack-saddles from them, and sundry other curiosities. they gave me tea even and _tsamba_. the fiery woman only had still a peculiar way of keeping her eyes fixed on my baggage, and her longing for my property seemed to increase when she saw me paying for the yaks. if she kept one eye on my goods, i kept both there; and i took good care that my rifle was never out of my hand, and that no one ever came too near me from behind. [illustration: pack-saddles for yaks] we counted the money down, some fifty rupees, including all purchases. each coin was passed round and sounded by each of our sellers, and when the entire sum was handed over the coins were passed back and recounted so that there should be no mistake. time in tibet is not money, and my readers must not be surprised when i tell them that counting, recounting and sounding the small amount took two more hours. the two yaks were eventually handed over to us. one, a huge long-haired black animal, restless and powerful; the other equally black, strong and hairy, but somewhat gentler. to catch them, separate them from the herd, pass ropes through their respective nostrils, and tie pack-saddles on their backs, were all operations we as novices had to master. it was hard work indeed, but we struggled till we succeeded. when we parted we were good friends, the bandits behaving admirably, and i made up my mind that i would at any time rather trust a bandit in tibet than an official. chapter xli tibetan coats, hats, and boots--why a tibetan prefers to leave half the chest and one arm bare--ornamentations--manner and speech--ignorance and superstition--way of eating--jogpa women and children--head-dress. in a way, i was sorry when my interview with the jogpas came to an end, for, although they were undoubtedly brigands, they were certainly interesting. their original and curious dress and manner of conversation, their unusual but eminently suitable mode of eating, and their jovial freedom of demeanour, were really quite refreshing. their dress was quite representative of tibet, for the men wore a great variety of coats and hats, probably owing to the facility with which they obtained them, and no two individuals were dressed alike, though certain leading characteristics of dress were conserved in each case. one man wore a gaudy coat trimmed with leopard skin, another had a long grey woollen robe like a dressing-gown, taken up at the waist by a kamarband, and a third was garbed in a loose raiment of sheepskin, with the wool inside. yet a fourth was arrayed in a deep red tunic fastened by a belt of leather with silver ornamentations inlaid in wrought-iron to hold a needle-case, tinder-pouch and steel, with a bead hanging from the leather thong, and a pretty dagger with sheath of ebony, steel, and filigree silver, besides other articles, such as a bullet-pouch and bag. in their kamarbands or belts, the jogpas, in common with the majority of tibetan men, wear a sword in front, and whether the coat is long or short, it is invariably loose and made to bulge at the waist in order that it may contain a store of eating and drinking bowls, the "_pu-kus_," snuff-box, and sundry bags of money, and _tsamba_ and bricks of tea! it is owing to this custom that most tibetan men, when seen at first, impress one as being very stout, whereas, as a matter of fact, they are somewhat slight in figure. tibetans leave one arm and part of the chest bare, letting the sleeve hang loose. the reason for this practice, which seems to have puzzled many people, is that in tibet the days are very hot and the nights cold (the drop in the thermometer in s.w. tibet being at times as much as ° and even °), and as the tibetans always sleep in their clothes, the garments that protect their bodies from being frozen at night are found too heavy and warm in the hot sun, and therefore this simple expedient is adopted. when sitting down, both arms are drawn from the sleeves and the chest and back are left bare; but when on foot, one arm, usually the left, is slipped in, to prevent the coat and its heavy contents from falling off. [illustration: white woollen coat and sashes--woollen socks] i have no hesitation in pronouncing the tibetan boots, from a practical point of view of utility, as the best in the world. they have all the advantages a boot should possess, especially those with flat soles of thick twisted cord. the upper part, being made of red and green felt, keeps the foot warm without preventing ventilation, and plenty of spreading room is left for the toes when walking. the felt gaiter, reaching to just below the knee, holds the soft sole of the boot flat under the foot, giving absolutely free action to the ankle. the most salient and sensible point in the tibetan footgear, however, is that the foot, all but the top part, is encased in the thick sole, thus preventing the jamming of toes between stones when walking, for instance, on _débris_, and also doing away with the accumulation of snow and mud between the sole and boot, so inconvenient in our footgear. there are many varieties and makes of boots in tibet, but the principle is always the same. the boots are always homemade, each individual making his own, except in large towns, where footgear can be purchased, and necessarily the quality is then not up to the same high standard. the difference in tibetan boots is mainly in the quality or texture of the soles; for instance, the lhassa boots have finer, softer, and more elastic soles than those made in sigatz (usually written shigatze), which are quite hard and stiff, and supposed to wear out much sooner than the more pliable ones of the sacred city. then there are some with leather soles, made specially for wet or snowy regions, and these when greased over are quite waterproof. two kinds of these are in use, one with pointed and curled toes for cutting one's way into the snow, the other of the usual shape. men and women alike wear these boots. the principal lamas and officials of tibet have adopted the chinese-pattern boots of leather, with heavy leather or wooden soles and enormous nails under them. [illustration: man's boot, made at sigatz--snow boot] [illustration: woman's boot--boot made in lhassa] the tibetans have innumerable varieties of headgear. the most peculiar of all, worn chiefly by soldiers and dacoits, is one in the form of a section of a cone with large rim, made entirely of twisted cord like that used for the soles of the boots, and with a hole at the top for ventilation. the conical part being too small to fit the head, it is held upon the skull by means of two strings tied under the chin. there are also conical brown and grey felt ones, not unlike filters used in chemical laboratories, and these, when of the better quality, are frequently ornamented with gold, blue, or red embroidery of chinese manufacture. an impressive headgear was worn by the medicine man attached to the band of robbers i had interviewed. it resembled at first sight an exaggerated jockey's cap of red silk, but closer examination showed that it consisted of two long strips of red silk, well stretched on a light frame of bamboo, set at an angle of about °. this hat was held on the head by means of a band round the back of the head, and it projected some fifteen inches over the forehead. in addition to these there are of course common cloth or fur caps with ear-flaps; and it is not uncommon to see, in tibet, soldiers wearing a silk kamarband bound tightly round the head, turban-fashion, with one end left hanging down over the ear. the commoner tibetan, however, is not fond of covering his head, and though he often has one or more caps stowed away in the loose folds of his coat, he seldom wears one on his head under ordinary circumstances. this does not apply to officials, who are never seen without a circular cap of chinese shape, surmounted by a top-knot. all men, except the lamas, who shave their heads clean, wear a pigtail, short and shaggy at times, or long and ornamented with a piece of cloth, in which it is sewn, and passed through rings of ivory, bone, glass, metal, or coral. ornaments of silver, such as perforated coins, are much used in adorning the men's pigtails, and coral and malachite ornaments are also common in tibet for the same purpose, and are much valued by the natives. men wear, passed through the lobe of the ear, an earring with malachite ornamentations, and often with an additional long pendant. it is usually of brass or silver, and occasionally of gold. more common than the solitary earring is the brass or silver charm-box, frequently containing a likeness of buddha, which nearly every tibetan carries slung round his neck. tibetans are, as a rule, excessively superstitious and fond of charms of every sort. their superstitions are, of course, the result of ignorance, and so are most of their other bad qualities. except among the higher officials and the lamas, education can hardly be said to exist in tibet, the population being kept in the most obscure ignorance. few can read, and none can write, and the lamas take very good care that only those shall learn who are likely to be of use. honesty and honour are two qualities almost unknown in any class or condition in tibet, and as for truthfulness, all travellers in the country can testify to the practical impossibility of obtaining it from a tibetan. cruelty is innate in them, and vice and crime are everywhere rampant. [illustration: hat, as worn by officials] that the jogpas had good digestions was evident from the way they ate when, having concluded the sale of the yaks, they squatted down to a hearty meal of _tsamba_, _chura_, and tea. they took from their coats their wooden and metal _pu-kus_, and quickly filled them with _tsamba_; pouring over it some steaming tea made as usual with butter and salt in a churn, they stirred it round and round the bowl with their dirty fingers until a paste was formed, which they rolled into a ball and ate, the same operation being repeated over and over again until their appetite was satisfied. each time, before refilling, the bowl was licked clean by rotating the _pu-ku_ round and round the tongue. feeling the heat of the sun, after their meal both men and women removed their garments above the waist, showing ornaments of gold, silver and copper encircling their necks. the women-folk of the dacoits, though far from beautiful, possessed a certain charm, arising from their curious wildness. unlike those of the generality of tibetan women, their teeth were very good, and their complexion was not specially dark, the black ointment with which their cheeks, noses, and foreheads were smeared making them appear darker than they really were, and being decidedly unbecoming. all of them had regular features, and their eyes and mouths were full of expression. their hair had been plaited into numberless little tresses, brought up and fastened in a graceful curve over the head, kept firm by a red turban, which was arranged to show another row of little tresses on the forehead, the ends being joined in succession to one another. they wore large earrings of gold inlaid with malachite, and were in manner so unaffected that they disregarded even the most primitive conventions. the children were talkative, and had the bearing of adults. they wore swords in their belts, even at the early age of eight or ten years. in a basket that had been carried by one of the yaks i saw an infant only a few months old. i caressed it, to the horror of his superstitious mother, who snatched the child away and washed and rubbed the poor little fellow's face until the skin was sore, declaring that children die who are touched by strangers. the men were just as bad in this, and when i purchased some rice from them they would not let me handle it till it had become my property. they objected each time that i stretched out my arm to touch the bag of rice, and showed me eventually a handful of rice at a considerable distance, to let me judge of its quality. i had to purchase only the handful at first. having assured myself that it was all right, i then purchased the remainder. chapter xlii a daku's strange ideas--the ridge between the two lakes--black tents--confronting the two lakes--a chain of high peaks--gombas--change in the weather. we had marched on the same afternoon about half a mile in the direction of mansarowar, when we were overtaken by one of the dakus, whom we had left a short time before. he rode towards us, apparently in a great state of excitement. having dismounted, he drew his sword and began chasing one of my yaks. this seemed so strange a proceeding that we were at a loss to understand his intentions, but as he screamed to us that he meant no harm we let him go on. he eventually overtook one recalcitrant yak, and, after a struggle with the unfortunate beast, he flung his arms round its neck and rested his head between its horns. i was anything but pleased with these antics, fearing that this effusion was only a dodge to cut the beast's throat. much to my astonishment, i found that the young jogpa had seized a tuft of the yak's hair with his teeth and was trying to tear it off, while the unfortunate beast was making desperate efforts to shake off its persecutor. the hair eventually gave way, and with a mouthful of it hanging from both sides of his tightly closed lips the jogpa now let go of the animal's head, and, brandishing his sword, made a dash for its tail. i seized the man by his pigtail, while he in his turn clung to the tail of the frightened yak, which bolting, dragged us after it at an unpleasant pace. the jogpa, in our mad flight, cut off a long lock of the yak's silky hair, and having secured this, appeared to be quite satisfied, let go and sheathed his sword. he concealed the stolen locks in his coat, and then made profound obeisances to us, putting out his tongue as usual and declaring that unless that precaution is taken when parting with a beast, bad luck is sure to come to you. this closed the incident: the jogpa rode away perfectly happy, and we continued our march across the stony plain until we reached the ridge which extends across it and divides the two sheets of water. we climbed up to the top, rising to , feet, and to make certain that the ridge really extended right across, i made an expedition about half-way across, finding the northern part somewhat lower than the southern, still rising several hundred feet above the level of the lakes. this expedition incurred some loss of time, and when night came we were still on the ridge. [illustration: a black yak] from our camping-ground we saw fifteen black tents on the hillside, and to the e. on the lake shore there was a large gomba or lamasery, with a temple and a number of mud houses. i estimated the distance between ourselves and the gomba at only eight miles, a cheering fact, because i hoped to get fresh provisions there to enable us to proceed more rapidly on our journey. we were now quite out of reach of the gyanema sepoys, as well as of the barca tarjum and the taklakot jong pen, and if we could only obtain a sufficient quantity of food during the night, and proceed by the jungle early the next day, there would be little danger of our being overtaken. the shokas were, of course, again shaking with fright at the idea of entering a tibetan settlement, but i told them very firmly that we must reach tucker gomba and village that night. we had below us the two great lakes, and before i left this magnificent panorama, i could not help taking a last long look at the marvellous scene. the devil's lake, with its broken, precipitous shores, its rocky islands and outstretching peninsulas, was far more enchanting to me than the sacred lake at its side, in which, according to tradition, dwell mahadeva (pronounced mahadeve) and all the other good gods. although the water is equally blue and limpid; although each lake has for background the same magnificent gangri chain, mansarowar, the creation of brahma, from whom it takes its name, is not nearly so weirdly fascinating as its neighbour. mansarowar has no ravines rising precipitously from its waters, in which their vivid colouring would be reflected as in a mirror; it is almost a perfect oval, without indentations. there is a stony, slanting plain some two miles wide between the water's edge and the hills surrounding it, except along the ridge separating it from the rakstal, where its shore is slightly more rugged and precipitous. directly south of the lake is a chain of high peaks covered with snow, from which several streams descend. from where we stood we could see evident signs, as in the case of the rakstal, that the level of the lake must at one time have been at least thirty feet higher than it is at present, and the slanting bed of small rounded and smooth stones, which extends from one-and-a-half to two miles beyond the water-line, is evidence enough that the water must once have been up to that point; i believe that it is still gradually receding. round the lake there are several tumbling-down sheds in charge of lamas, but only one important gomba (monastery) and a temple are to be found--viz., at tucker village. i was told that a small gomba and _serai_ in charge of lamas stands to the n.w. of the lake, but i cannot vouch for the accuracy of the statement, as i did not visit it myself, and the information i received from tibetans regarding its position and importance was conflicting. as the nature of the country suddenly altered between the devil's lake and mansarowar, so, too, the weather and the temperature greatly changed. over the rakstal we invariably saw a lovely blue sky, whereas over mansarowar heavy black clouds always lowered, and rain fell incessantly. from time to time the wind blew off the rain for a few minutes, and lovely effects of light played on the water, but fresh clouds, with violent bursts of thunder, soon made the scene again gloomy and depressing. it was much warmer on the mansarowar side of the ridge than on the other, and, probably owing to dampness, the air seemed quite thick to breathe, instead of being crisp and light, as it was along the shores of the devil's lake. indeed, when i recall the mansarowar, i cannot help thinking that it is the home, not only of the gods, but also of all the storms. [illustration: a tibetan fortune teller] chapter xliii the langa tsangpo--a terrific storm--drenched to the skin--heavy marching--against the gods--difficulty in finding the lamasery and village--a bark!--arrival at last--gentle tapping--under a roof. we descended some two miles to the plain, and crossed a rapid delta of the langa tsangpo or langa river; then another, a mile farther. as these rivers came directly from the snows, the water was very cold, and often three or four feet deep, owing to the thawing of the snow and ice during the day. no sooner had we reached the shores of the mansarowar, than the heavy clouds which had been hanging over our heads poured forth such a torrent of rain, that in a moment we were drenched to the skin. we were marching very fast, as all our heavy loads were now on the two yaks, but night was well advanced, and the darkness was such that we could only see a few inches in front of us. we were actually walking in an inch or two of water, and a fierce s.e. wind drove the rain and hail so hard into our faces and hands as to cause us considerable pain. we were frozen in our wet garments, and our teeth were chattering, though we walked quickly, keeping close together. from time to time a bright flash of lightning shone on the lake, followed by a terrific crash of thunder, and by what we could see during those few seconds of light we tried to steer our way towards tucker village and gomba. the rivers, swollen by the rain, were extremely difficult to cross, and the water seemed to flow so rapidly on the inclined bed, that it was all we could do to keep on our feet. so wet were we that we did not even take the trouble to remove our shoes or garments, and we splashed through, clothes and all. three times we went into the freezing water above our waists, and then we marched for apparently endless miles on the pebbly and stony incline. we could not see where we were going, and the storm seemed to grow worse every moment: we stumbled on amidst large stones and boulders, and fell over one another on slippery rocks. farther on, we sank up to our knees in mud, and each time that we lifted a foot it seemed to be of lead. it was a downpour such as i had seldom before experienced. "are you quite sure, kachi, that this lake is the home of the gods?" i inquired of kachi. "why, even on the devil's lake we had better weather than this." "yes, sir," replied kachi. "but you make the gods angry, and that is why they send thunder, hail and rain to stop your progress. you are going on against the gods, sir." "never mind, kachi. it cannot pour for ever." at midnight we had no idea of our position, still we pushed on. "have we passed the gomba? have we not yet reached it?" were the questions we asked each other. it seemed to me that, at the rate we were going, we ought by now to be very near the place, and yet after another hour's tramp we had not struck it. i was under the belief that we had gone about nine miles, and i expressed the opinion that we had passed it, but the shokas insisted that we had not, so we again proceeded. we had hardly gone five hundred yards, when we heard a faint, distant, and most welcome dog's bark. it came from the n.w., and we surmised that it must come from tucker. we had steered too far south of the place, which accounted for our missing it in the darkness. guided by the yelping, we hastily directed our steps towards the settlements. the dog's solitary howl was at once supplemented by fifty more angry barks, and though we knew by the sound that we were approaching the village, it was so dark and stormy that we could not find the place. only when we found ourselves close to the mud huts could we be certain that we had at last arrived. it was now between and a.m. the rain still came down in torrents, and, alas! there was no sign of any of the inhabitants being willing to give us shelter. it was quite out of the question to pitch our little _tente d'abri_, for our things were already wringing wet. [illustration: my two yaks] the noise we made tapping outside a door was determined, so much so that the door itself nearly gave way. this was a shelter-house, a _serai_ for pilgrims, and as we claimed to be pilgrims, we had, by the laws of the country, a right to admission. the kutial nattoo, who had once before reached this lake by a different route, led us to this house. "you are dacoits," said a hoarse voice from inside; "or you would not come at this hour." "no, we are not," we entreated. "please open. we are well-to-do people. we will harm no one, and pay for all." "_middu, middu!_" ("cannot be, no.") "you are dacoits. i will not open." to show that we were not what they imagined, faithful chanden sing and dola tapped again so gently at the door that the bolt gave way. the next moment ten strangers were squatting down round a warm fire drying their shrivelled-up, soaked skins by the flame of dried tamarisk and dung. the landlord, a doctor by the way, was reassured when he saw that we had no evil intentions, and found some silver coins in the palm of his hand. yet he said he would rather that we slept somewhere else: there was a capital empty hut next door. on our agreeing to this, he conducted us to the place, and there we spent the remainder of the night, or rather the early morning. chapter xliv the interior of a _serai_--vermin--fish, local jewellery, and pottery for sale--favourite shapes and patterns--how pottery is made. our abode was a one-storeyed house built of stones and mud with a flat roof. there were two rooms, the first lighted by the door, the second and larger having a square aperture in the ceiling for the triple purpose of ventilation, lighting and outlet for the smoke of the fire, which burnt directly underneath in the centre of the room. the beams and rafters supporting the roof had been brought over from the other side of the himahlyas, as no wood is to be found in western tibet. this _serai_ was in charge of a young, half-demented lama, who was most profuse in salutations, and who remained open-mouthed, gazing at us for a considerable time. he was polite and attentive in helping to dry our things in the morning, and, whenever we asked for anything, he ran out of the _serai_ in frantic fits of merriment, always bringing in what we required. [illustration: silver lhassa coins] the heavy storm during the night had flooded our room, and there was only one corner slightly drier than the rest of the floor, where we all slept huddled together. these _serais_ have no claim to cleanliness, and on this occasion all the minor animal life that inhabited the floor had, with a view to avoiding the water, retreated to the higher portion of the room, which we also had selected, so that one more trial was added to all our other miseries, for we were half devoured by a variety of "insects." this, indeed, was a dreadful pest, and one from which we suffered indescribable agonies, not only on this occasion but whenever we halted near tibetan camps. when we rose in the morning the room was full of tibetan men, women and children, who seemed very good-natured and friendly. [illustration: copper coins] [illustration: earring worn by men] [illustration: silver charm] [illustration: gold and malachite brooch] "_tanga chick!_" (a silver coin equivalent to half a rupee) cried an old woman, who stuck a dried fish under my nose, professing volubly that it had been caught in mansarowar, and that it would make its possessor the happiest of mortals. others unrolled, from pieces of red cloth, jewellery in the form of brooches, rings, and earrings of brass or silver inlaid with malachite. "_gurmoh sum!_" (three rupees), "_diu, diu, diu_" ("yes yes, yes"), "_karuga ni!_" (two two-anna pieces), "_gientcheke!_" (a four-anna piece), and so on, all talking at the same time, in their anxiety to dispose of their goods. the jewellery was of local manufacture, and in some cases the pieces of malachite were firmly set, but usually a kind of paste is used for holding the stones, and consequently, pretty as the jewels are, they soon break. the earrings are usually better made than the brooches, but the most interesting of all, because simpler and more characteristic, are the flat silver charms, such as the one i give in the illustration, ornamented with a primitive design. this particular one, which is now in my possession is of great antiquity, the edges being much worn down. it has the lotus pattern in the centre and leaf ornamentations filled in with lines radiating from a parent stem. concentric circles occupy the inner square, which also contains circular dots in sets of threes and contiguous semicircles. triangles filled in with parallel lines are a favourite form of ornamentation in tibetan work, and, perhaps, most popular of all in the mind of the tibetan artist is the square or the lozenge outline, with a special inclination towards purely geometrical patterns, a tradition probably inherited from their mongol ancestors. the most interesting objects to me at tucker were the specimens of pottery made by the natives, which is manufactured from clay of fine quality, although it is not properly beaten previous to being worked into vases, jugs, &c. moulds are used to fashion the bases of the larger vessels and the inner part is shaped by the hand; a rough turning-machine simplifies the finishing of the upper part of the vase, leaving it comparatively smooth. two handles with rough line ornamentations are added to the larger vessels, but one suffices for the jars with longer neck and small aperture. the two patterns reproduced in the illustration are those more commonly adopted; the colour is a light greyish terra-cotta, left fairly smooth and unvarnished. they are well burnt, in primitive furnaces, the lamas showing much skill in the manufacture of these vessels, which find a ready market among the pilgrims to the sacred lake. the tools used in fashioning the vessels are extremely simple; a piece of flat stone, and two or three wands of wood, beyond which the tucker potter does not really require more than his fingers and his nails to accomplish his work. [illustration: mansarowar pottery] chapter xlv friendly lamas--chanden sing and mansing purified--mansing's sarcasm--pilgrims to mansarowar and their privileges--for luck!--outside the gomba. several lamas came to visit me in the morning, and professed to be pleased to see us; in fact they asked me to go and pay them a visit in the lamasery and temple. they said there was much sickness in the village, and as they believed me to be a hindoo doctor, they wished i could do something to relieve their sufferings. i promised to do all i could, and was very glad to have this unique chance of visiting a lamasery, and of studying the cases that would be brought before me. i carried my rifle in my hand even during this friendly visit to the lamas. when i came out of our stuffy, dark room, preceded and followed by a crowd of inquisitive natives, i had a good look round this strange village. after the storm of the night, we did not have the beautiful blue sky that might have been expected, but over us hung threatening clouds, while the waters of the sacred lake, softly moved by the wind, made a gentle lapping sound on the beach. chanden sing and mansing, the two hindoos, divested of all their clothing except a _doti_, were squatting near the edge of the lake, having their heads shaved clean by bijesing the johari. i must confess that i was somewhat annoyed when i saw them using my best razor for the purpose, but i repressed my anger on remembering that, according to their religion, the fact of being at mansarowar absolved them from all sins. my two servants, with heads turned towards kelas mount, seemed excited, and were praying so fervently that i stood to watch them. they washed themselves repeatedly in the water of the lake, and at last plunged into it. on coming out shivering, they each took out of their clothes a silver rupee, and flung it into the lake as an offering to the god mahadeva. then, with hairless faces and heads, they dressed and came to pay their salaams to me, professing to be now happy and pure. "siva, the greatest of all gods, lives in the waters of mansarowar," exclaimed my bearer in a poetic mood. "i have bathed in its waters, and of its waters i have drunk. i have salaamed the great kelas, the sight of which alone can absolve all sins of humanity; i shall now go to heaven." "i shall be satisfied if we get as far as lhassa," grumbled the sceptical mansing, out of ear-reach of the tibetans. chanden sing, who was well versed in religious matters, explained that only hindoo pilgrims who had lost both parents shaved their heads on visiting mansarowar, as a sacrifice to siva, and if they were of a high caste, on their return to their native land after the pilgrimage, it was customary to entertain all the brahmins of the town to a banquet. a man who had bathed in mansarowar was held in great respect by everybody, and commanded the admiration and envy of the entire world. the mansarowar lake is about forty-six miles round, and those pilgrims who wish to attain a greater state of sanctity make a _kora_ or circuit on foot, along the water-line. the journey occupies from four to seven days, according to circumstances, and one trip round will absolve the pilgrim from ordinary sins; twice the circuit clears the conscience of any murder; and three times will make honest and good a person who has killed his or her father, mother, brother or sister. there are fanatics who make the tour on their knees, others accomplish the distance lying down flat at each step on their faces like the pilgrims to kelas. according to legend, mansarowar was created by brahma, and he who shall bathe in its waters will share the paradise of mahadeva! no matter what crimes he may have previously committed, a dip in the holy lake is sufficient to purge the soul as well as the body! to please my men, therefore, and perhaps bring myself some luck, i too hurled a couple of coins into the water. the purifying ablutions being over, i ordered chanden sing to take his rifle and follow me into the gomba, as the lamas were so polite that i feared treachery on their part. the large square building, with its walls painted red and its flattish dome of gilt copper, rose by the water-side, and was both picturesque and handsome in its severe simplicity. there came sounds from inside of deep, hoarse voices muttering prayers, the tinkling of bells and clanging of cymbals. from time to time a drum was beaten, giving a hollow sound, and an occasional and sudden touch upon a gong caused the air to vibrate until the notes in a gradual diminuendo were carried away over the holy lake. chapter xlvi entering the lamasery--the lama's dwelling--novices--were we in a trap?--images--oblations--urghin--the holy water, the veil of friendship, and absolution--musical instruments, books, &c.--god and the trinity--heaven and hell--a mystery. after chanden sing and i had entered into the lamasery, the large door, which had been pushed wide open, was immediately closed. we were in a spacious courtyard, three sides of which had two tiers of galleries supported by columns. this was the _lhaprang_, or lama's house, and directly in front of me was the _lha kang_, or temple, the floor of which was raised some five feet above the level of the ground, with a very large door leading into it. at this entrance were, one on either side, recesses in which, by the side of a big drum, squatted two lamas with books of prayers before them, a praying-wheel and a rosary in their hands, the beads of which they shifted after every prayer. at our appearance the monks ceased their prayers and beat the drums in an excited manner. from what i could judge, there was a commotion in the gomba. lamas, old and young, rushed to and fro out of their rooms, while a number of chibbis or novices--boys between the ages of twelve and twenty--lined the banisters of the upper verandah with expressions of evident suspense and curiosity depicted on their faces. no doubt the lamas had prepared a trap for us. i warned chanden sing to be on the alert, and set him on guard at the entrance of the temple, while i, depositing a few silver coins on the drum of the lama to my right, took off my shoes in sign of respect and--much to the amazement of the monks--quietly entered the house of worship. partly astonished at the sight of the silver, and more so at my want of caution, the lamas, of whom there was a good number in the courtyard, remained motionless and mute. the high lama, or father superior of the monastery, at last came forward, stooping low and placing one thumb above the other and putting his tongue out to show his superlative approval of my visit to the many images representing deities or sanctified buddhist heroes which were grouped along the walls of the temple. the largest of these were about five feet high, the others about three feet. some were carved out of wood, their drapery and ornaments being fairly artistic in arrangement and execution, while others were fashioned in gilt metal. there were a number in a sitting posture and some standing erect; and they all rested on ornamented pedestals or plainer bases painted blue, red, white and yellow. many wore the ancient chinese double-winged cap, as used to this day by corean officials, and were placed in recesses in the wall decorated with stuffs, wood carvings, and rough paintings of images. [illustration: entrance to the tucker temple] at the foot of these images was a long shelf, on which, in bright brass vessels of all sizes, were oblations of _tsamba_, dried fruit, _chura_, wheat and rice offered through the lamas by the devotees to the different saints. some of the ears of barley were ornamented with imitation leaves of _murr_ (butter), coloured red, blue and yellow. the ceiling of the temple was draped in red woollen cloth similar to that of the clothes worn by the lamas themselves, and from it hung hundreds of strips of silk, wool and cotton of all imaginable colours. the roof was supported by columns of wood forming a quadrangle in the centre of the temple and joined by a balustrade, compelling the worshippers to make a circuit from left to right in order to pass before the several images. in a shrine in the central part of the wall facing the entrance was _urghin_ or _kunjuk-chick_, "god alone," and in front of it on a kind of altar covered with a carpet a collection of donations far more abundant than those offered to the other images. the lama, pointing at it, told me that it was a good god, and so i salaamed it and deposited a small offering in a handy collection-box, which seemed to please the lama greatly, for he at once fetched a holy water amphora, hung with long veils of friendship and love, and poured some scented liquid on the palms of my hands. then, producing a strip of veil, he wetted it with the scent and presented it to me. the majority of pilgrims generally go round the inside of the temple on their knees, but, notwithstanding that, to avoid offending prejudices, i generally follow the principle of doing in rome as the romans do, i could not here afford the chance of placing myself at such a disadvantage in case of a surprise. the high lama explained the different images and threw handfuls of rice over them as he called them by their respective names, all of which i tried hard to remember, but, alas! before i could get back to the _serai_ and scribble down their appellations, they had all escaped my memory. a separate entrance led from the living part of the monastery into the temple. lights, burning in brass bowls, their wicks being fed with melted butter, were scattered on the floor in the central quadrangle, and near them lay oblong books of prayers printed on the smooth yellow tibetan paper made from a fibrous bark. near these books were small drums and cymbals. one double drum, i noticed, was made from reversed sections of human skulls, and my attention was also attracted by some peculiar headgear worn by the lamas during their services and ceremonies. on these occasions they not only accompany their chanting and prayers with the beating of drums and clashing of cymbals, but they at the same time make a noise on cane flutes, tinkle hand-bells, and sound a large gong. the noise of these instruments is at times so great that the prayers themselves are quite inaudible. unfortunately, i failed to see any of the awe-inspiring masks which are used by lamas in their eccentric and mystic dances, during which, when the lamas spend the whole day in the temple, they consume much tea with butter and salt in it, which is brought to them in cups by lamas of an inferior order, acting as servants. they pass hour after hour in their temples apparently absolutely absorbed in praying to the god above all gods, the incarnation of all the saints together united in a trinity, the _kunjuk-sum_. _kunjuk-sum_, translated literally, means "the three deities," and some take it to refer to the elements, air, water and fire, which in the tibetan mind are symbols of speech, charity and force and life. one great point in buddhism, as everyone knows, is the advocation of love and respect to one's father and mother and the prohibition against injuring one's neighbours in any way. according to the precepts contained in some eight hundred volumes called the kajars, the tibetans believe in a heaven (the deva tsembo) free from all anxieties of human existence, full of love and joy, and ruled over by a god of infinite goodness, helped by countless disciples called the _chanchubs_, who spend their existence in performing charitable deeds among living creatures. with a number of intermediate places of happiness and punishment they even believe in a hell, where the souls of sinners are tormented by fire and ice. "god sees and knows everything, and he is everywhere," exclaimed the lama, "but we cannot see him. only the _chanchubs_ can see and speak to him." "what are the evil qualities to be mostly avoided?" i inquired of the high lama, who spoke a little hindustani. "luxury, pride and envy," he replied. "do you ever expect to become a saint?" i asked him. "yes, i hope so, but it takes five hundred transmigrations of an uncontaminated soul before one can be one." then, as if waking to a sudden thought, he seized my hand impulsively and spread my fingers open. having done this, he muttered two or three words of surprise. his face became serious, even solemn, and he treated me with strange obsequiousness. rushing out of the temple, he went to inform the other lamas of his discovery, whatever it was. they crowded round him, and from their words and gestures it was easy to see that they were bewildered. when i left the company of the strange idols and came into the courtyard, every lama wished to examine and touch my hand, and the sudden change in their behaviour was to me a source of great curiosity, until i learnt the real cause of it some weeks later. chapter xlvii the jong pen's statements regarding me--sects of lamas--lamaseries--government allowance--ignorance of the crowds--how lamas are recruited--lamas, novices, and menials--dances and hypnotism--infallibility--celibacy and vice--sculptors--prayer-wheels and revolving instruments--nunneries--human bones for eating vessels and musical instruments--blood-drinking. before i left the monastery, the lamas, who had now become more or less accustomed to me, asked me many questions regarding india and concerning medicine. these seemed to be subjects of great interest to them. they also questioned me as to whether i had heard that a young sahib had crossed over the frontier with a large army, which the jong pen of taklakot had defeated, beheading the sahib and the principal members of the expedition. i professed to be ignorant of these facts, and so i really was, though i naturally felt much amused at the casual way in which the jong pen of taklakot had disposed of the bearskin before he had even caught the bear himself. the lamas took me for a hindoo doctor, owing to the colour of my face, which was sunburnt and had long remained unwashed, and they thought that i was on a pilgrimage of circumambulation round the mansarowar lake. they appeared anxious to know whether illnesses were cured by occult sciences in india, or by medicines only. i, who, on the other hand, was more interested in getting information than in giving it, turned the conversation on the lamas themselves. of course i knew that there are sects of red, yellow, white and black lamas, the red ones being the older and more numerous throughout the country; next to them come the yellow lamas, the _gelupkas_, equally powerful in political and religious matters, but not quite so numerous; and, lastly, the white lamas and the black lamas, the _julinba_, who are the craftsmen in the monasteries, working at painting, printing, pottery and ornamentation, besides attending on the other lamas and making themselves useful all round in the capacities of cooks, shepherds, water-carriers, writers, and last, but not least, executioners. the lamaseries are usually very rich, for the tibetans are a deeply devout race, and the lamas are not backward in learning how to extort money from the ignorant worshippers under pretences of all kinds. besides attending to their religious functions, the lamas are traders at large, carrying on a smart money-lending business, and charging a very high interest, which falls due every month. if this should remain unpaid, all the property of the borrower is confiscated, and if this prove insufficient to repay the loan the debtor himself becomes a slave to the monastery. it is evident, from the well-fed countenances of the lamas, that, notwithstanding their occasional bodily privations, they as a rule do not allow themselves to suffer in any way, and no doubt can be entertained as to their leading a smooth and comfortable existence of comparative luxury--a condition which frequently degenerates into vice and depravity. the larger lamaseries receive a yearly government allowance, and considerable sums are collected from the oblations of the faithful, while other moneys are obtained by all sorts of devices which, in any country less religious than tibet, would be considered hardly honourable and often even altogether criminal. to any one acquainted with tibet, it is a well-known fact that, except in the larger towns, nearly all people besides brigands and lamas are absolutely poor, while the monks themselves and their agents live and prosper on the fat of the land. the masses are maintained in complete ignorance, and seldom is a layman found who can write or even read. thus everything has to go through the lamas' hands before it can be sanctioned. [illustration: tucker village and gomba] the lamaseries and the lamas, and the land and property belonging to them, are absolutely free from all taxes and dues, and each lama or novice is supported for life by an allowance of _tsamba_, bricks of tea, and salt. they are recruited from all ranks, and whether honest folks or murderers, thieves or swindlers, all are eagerly welcomed on joining the brotherhood. one or two male members of each family in tibet take monastic orders, and by these means the monks obtain a great hold over each house- or tent-hold. it is hardly an exaggeration to say that in tibet half the male population are lamas. in each monastery are found lamas, chibbis, and a lower grade of ignorant and depraved lamas, slaves, as it were, of the higher order. they dress, and have clean-shaven heads like their superiors, and do all the handiwork of the monastery; but they are mere servants, and take no direct, active part in the politics of the lama government. the chibbis are novices. they enter the lamasery when very young, and remain students for many years. they are constantly under the teaching and supervision of the older ones, and confession is practised from inferior to superior. after undergoing, successfully, several examinations they become effective lamas, which word translated means "high priest." these chibbis take minor parts in the strange religious ceremonies in which the lamas, disguised in skins and ghastly masks, sing and dance with extraordinary contortions to the accompaniment of weird music made by bells, horns, flutes, cymbals and drums. each large monastery has at its head a grand lama, not to be confounded with the dalai lama of lhassa, who is believed, or rather supposed, to have an immortal soul transmigrating successively from one body into another. the lamas eat, drink and sleep together in the monastery, with the exception of the grand lama, who has a room to himself. for one moon in every twelve they observe a strict seclusion, which they devote to praying, and during which time they are not allowed to speak. they fast for twenty-four hours at a time, with only water and butter-tea, eating on fast-days sufficient food only to remain alive, and depriving themselves of everything else, including snuff and spitting, the two most common habits among tibetan men. the lamas have great pretensions to infallibility, and on account of this they claim, and obtain, the veneration of the people, by whom they are supported, fed and clothed. i found them, as a rule, very intelligent, but inhuman, barbarously cruel and dishonourable, and this was not my own experience alone: i heard the same from the overridden natives, who wish for nothing better than a chance to shake off their yoke. availing themselves of the absolute ignorance in which they succeed in keeping the people, the lamas practise to a great extent occult arts, by which they profess to cure illnesses, discover murders and thefts, stop rivers from flowing, and bring storms about at a moment's notice. certain exorcisms, they say, drive away the evil spirits that cause disease. it is certain that the lamas are adepts at hypnotic experiments, by which means they contrive to let the subjects under their influence see many things and objects that are not there in reality. to this power are due the frequent reports of apparitions of buddha, seen generally by single individuals, and the visions of demons, the accounts of which alone terrify the simple-minded folk, and cause them to pay all their spare cash in donations to the monastery. mesmerism plays an important part in their weird dances, during which extraordinary contortions are performed, and strange positions assumed, the body of the dancer being eventually reduced to a cataleptic state, in which it remains for a great length of time. the lamas swear to celibacy when they enter a lamasery; but they do not always keep these vows, and they are besides addicted to the most disgusting of all vices in its very worst forms, which accounts for the repulsive appearance of far-gone depravity so common among the middle-aged lamas. all the larger lamaseries support one or more lama sculptors, who travel all over the district, and go to the most inaccessible spots to carve on rocks, stones, or pieces of horn, the everlasting inscription, "_omne mani padme hun_," which one sees all over the country. unseen, i once succeeded, after much difficulty and discomfort, in carrying away two of these very heavy inscribed stones, which are still in my possession, and of which reproductions are here given. weird and picturesque places, such as the highest points on mountain passes, gigantic boulders, rocks near the sources of rivers, or any spot where a _mani_ wall exists, are the places most generally selected by these artists to engrave the magic formula alluding to the reincarnation of buddha from a lotus flower. the famous prayer-wheels, those mechanical contrivances by which the tibetans pray to their god by means of water, wind and hand-power, are also manufactured by lama artists. the larger ones, moved by water, are constructed by the side of, or over, a stream, and the huge cylinders on which the entire tibetan prayer-book is inscribed are revolved by the flowing water. the wheels moved by wind-power are similar to those used by the shokas, which i have already described, but the tibetans often have prayers printed on the slips of cloth. the smaller prayer-wheels, revolved by hand, are of two different kinds, and are made either of silver or copper. those for home use are cylinders, about six inches high. inside these revolve on pivots, on the principle of a spinning top, the rolls of prayers which, by means of a projecting knob above the machine, the worshipper sets in motion. the prayers can be seen revolving inside through a square opening in the cylinder. the more universal prayer-wheel in everyday use in tibet is, however, of the pattern shown in the illustration. it is usually constructed of copper, sometimes of brass, and frequently entirely or partly of silver. the cylinder has two movable lids, between which the prayer-roll fits tightly. a handle with an iron rod is passed through the centre of the cylinder and roll, and is kept in its place by means of a knob. a ring, encircling the cylinder, attaches it to a short chain and weight; this serves, when started by a jerk of the hand, to give a rotatory movement, which must, according to rule, be from left to right, and which is kept up indefinitely, the words "_omne mani padme hun_," or simply "_mani, mani_," being repeated all the time. [illustration: stone with inscription] the more ancient wheels have the prayers written by hand instead of printed, and are contained in a small black bag. charms, such as rings of malachite, jade, bone, or silver, are often attached to the weight and chain by which the rotary movement is given to the wheel. these praying-machines are found in every tibetan family, and nearly every lama possesses one. they keep them jealously, and it is very difficult to get the real ones. i was particularly fortunate, and during my journey in tibet i was able to purchase as many as twelve, two of which were extremely old. [illustration: prayer-wheels--ancient and modern. showing rolls of prayers to go inside] besides the rosary, which the lamas always use in a similar way to the roman catholics, they have a brass instrument which they twist between the palms of their hands while saying prayers, and this is used exclusively by lamas. it is from ½ to inches in length, and is rounded so as to be easily held in the hollow of the two hands. in tibet, as in other buddhist countries, there are nunneries besides lamaseries. the nuns, most unattractive in themselves, shave their heads and practise witchcraft and magic, just as the lamas do. they are looked down upon by the masses. in some of these nunneries strict _clausura_ is enforced, but in most of them the lamas are allowed free access, with the usual result, that the nuns become the concubines of the lamas. even apart from this, the women of the nunneries are quite as immoral as their brethren of the lamaseries, and at their best they are but a low type of humanity. the lamas who, at certain periods of the year, are allowed an unusual amount of freedom with women, are those who practise the art of making musical instruments and eating-vessels out of human bones. the skull is used for making drinking-cups, _tsamba_ bowls, and single and double drums, and the humerus, femur, and tibia bones are turned into trumpets and pipes. these particular lamas are said to relish human blood, which they drink out of the cups made from men's skulls. [illustration: stone with inscription] chapter xlviii illnesses and remedies--curious theories about fever--evil spirits--blacksmith and dentist--exorcisms--surgical operations--massage and cupping--incurable illnesses--deformities--deafness--fits and insanity--melancholia--suicides. the lamas became quite communicative, enabling me, partly with the little hindustani that i knew and partly with the tibetan i had picked up, to enter into a conversation about illnesses and their remedies, certain as i was that they must have strange notions on the subject. i was not disappointed in this surmise, and from that conversation and my own observation on previous and subsequent occasions, i am able to give a few details of the methods of the lamas in curing the more frequent ailments found in the country. the lamas explained to me that all diseases arose from fever, instead of fever being an accompaniment of most illnesses, and furthermore, that fever itself was but an evil spirit, which assumed different forms when it entered the body, and caused all sorts of complaints. the fever demon, they asserted, was a spirit, but there were yet other demons who were so good as to bring us riches and happiness. for instance, when a man after a dangerous illness visited a a cave, waterfall or river-gorge which these demons were supposed to haunt, he might have a relapse and die, or he might be instantly cured and live happy ever afterwards. in the latter case, as would naturally be expected, the recipient of such inestimable privileges generally returned to pay a second visit to the kindly spirits who made his life worth living, "but," said the lamas quite seriously, "when he goes a second time he will get blind or paralytic, as a punishment for his greediness." "the evil spirits," continued a fat old lama with crooked fingers, which he clenched and shook as he spoke, "are in the shape of human beings or like goats, dogs, sheep or ponies, and sometimes they assume the semblance of wild animals, such as bears and snow leopards." i told the lamas that i had remarked many cases of goître and also other abnormalities, such as hare-lip and webbed fingers and toes, as well as the very frequent occurrence of supernumerary fingers or toes. i asked them the reason for such cases, and they attributed them, with the exception of webbed fingers, to the mischievous work of demons before the child's birth; they could not, however, suggest a remedy for goître. inguinal and umbilical hernia are quite common, as i have on several occasions observed, and coarse belts are made according to the taste and ingenuity of the sufferer, but are of hardly any efficacy in preventing the increase of the swellings. a common complaint, especially among the older women, was rheumatism, from which they seemed to suffer considerably. it affected their fingers and toes, and particularly the wrists and ankles, the joints swelling so as to render them quite stiff, the tendons contracting, swelling, and becoming prominent and hard in the palms of the hands. both before and after my conversation with the lamas i had opportunities of ascertaining that the stomachs of the tibetans are seldom in good working order. but how could they be when you consider the gallons of filthy tea which they drink daily, and the liquor to which they are so partial? this poisonous concoction is enough to destroy the gastric juices of an ostrich! the tongue, as i have mentioned already, is invariably thickly furred with a whitish coating, and tibetans have often complained to me of tumours as well as of painful burnings in the stomach, the latter undoubtedly caused by ulcerations. it is to be regretted that, even in the high land of tibet, the worst of all sexual diseases (called by the tibetans _boru_) has made vast numbers of victims, palpable traces of it showing themselves in eruptions, particularly on the forehead and on the ears, round the mouth and under the nostrils, on the arms and legs. in cases of very long standing, a peculiar whitish discoloration of the skin and gums was to be noticed, with abnormal contraction of the pupils. that such a disease is well rooted in the country we have proof enough in the foul teeth which the majority of tibetans possess. in nearly all cases that i examined, the teeth were, even in young men, so loose, decayed and broken as to make me feel quite sorry for their owners, and during the whole time i was in tibet--and i came in contact with several thousand people--i believe that i could almost count on my fingers the sets of teeth that appeared quite regular, healthy and strong. as a rule, too, the women had better teeth than the men. no doubt the admixture of bad blood in the tibetan race contributes a great deal to the unevenness and malformation of their teeth, and if we add to this the fact that the corruption of the blood, even apart from disease, is very great owing to their peculiar laws of marriage, it is not surprising that the services of dentists are everywhere required. the teeth of tibetans are generally of such a brittle nature that the dentist of tibet--usually a lama and a blacksmith as well--has devised an ingenious way of protecting them from further destruction by means of a silver cap encasing the broken tooth. i once saw a man with all his front teeth covered in this fashion, and as the dentist who had attended to him had constructed the small cases apparently with no regard to shape or comfort, but had made most of them end in a point for mastication's sake, the poor man had a ghastly appearance every time that he opened his mouth. the tibetans are not very sensitive to physical pain, as i have had reason to judge on several occasions, when i have seen teeth extracted in the most primitive fashion, without a sound being emitted from the sufferer. in south-western tibet the _hunyas_ (tibetans) have the same strange notions on transmigration of evil spirits that are common to the shokas. for instance, if a man falls ill, they maintain that the only remedy is to drive away the evil spirit which has entered his body. now, according to tibetan and shoka ideas, evil spirits always enter a living body to satisfy their craving for blood: therefore, to please the spirit and decoy him away, if the illness be slight, a small animal such as a dog or a bird is brought and placed close by the patient; if the illness be grave, a sheep is produced and exorcisms are made in the following fashion. a bowl of water is whirled three or four times over the sick man's head, and then again over the animal selected, upon whose head it is poured. these circles, described with certain mystic words, have the power of drawing the spirit out of its first quarters and causing it to enter the brain of the second victim, upon whose skull the water is poured to prevent its returning back. "of course," said my informer with an air of great gravity, "if you can give the evil spirit a present in the shape of a living being that will satisfy him, he will depart quite happy." if the illness is slight, it means that the spirit is not much out of temper, and a small present is enough to satisfy him, but if the disease is serious, nothing less than a sheep or even a yak will be sufficient. as soon as the spirit has changed his temporary abode the animal is quickly dragged away to a crossing of four roads, and if there are no roads a cross is previously drawn on the ground, where a grave for the animal is dug, into which it is mercilessly thrown and buried alive. the spirit, unable to make a rapid escape, remains to suck the blood of his last victim, and in the meantime the sick man, deprived of the company of his ethereal and unwelcome guest, has time to make a speedy recovery. when a smaller animal is used, such as a dog or a bird, and when the patient complains of more than one ailment, the poor beast, having been conveyed to the crossing of four roads, is suddenly seized and brutally torn into four parts, which are flung in four different directions, the idea being that, wherever there may be spirits waiting for blood, they will get their share and depart happy. after their craving is satisfied, the evil spirits are not very particular whether the blood is human or not. in shoka land especially, branches with thorns and small flying prayers are placed on each road to prevent their immediate return. these are said to be insuperable barriers to the evil spirits. [illustration: branch with thorns to prevent return of evil spirits] when a patient completely recovers, the lamas naturally obtain money for the exorcisms which have expelled the illness, and they never fail to impress upon the people the extraordinary powers they possess over the much-dreaded demons. the tibetans are unsuccessful in surgery, first of all because they do not possess sufficient knowledge of human anatomy; secondly, because their fingers are wanting in suppleness and sensitiveness of touch; and lastly, because they are not able to manufacture instruments of sufficient sharpness to perform surgical operations with speed and cleanliness. in tibet everybody is a surgeon, thus woe to the unfortunate who needs one. it is true that amputation is seldom performed; but if it should become necessary, and the operation is at all difficult, the patient generally succumbs. the tibetan surgeon does not know how to saw bones, and so merely severs the limb at the place where the fracture has occurred. the operation is performed with any knife or dagger that happens to be at hand, and is, therefore, attended with much pain, and frequently has disastrous results. the precaution is taken to tie up the broken limb above the fracture, but it is done in such a clumsy way that very often, owing to the bad quality of tibetan blood, mortification sets in, and, as the tibetans are at a loss what to do on such occasions, another victim goes to join the majority. considering the nomadic habits of the tibetans and the rough life they lead, they are comparatively immune from very bad accidents. occasionally there is a broken arm or leg which they manage to set roughly, if the fracture is not a compound one, by putting the bones back in their right position, and by tightly bandaging the limbs with rags, pieces of cloth and rope. splinters are used when wood is obtainable. a powder made from a fungus growing on oak-trees in the himahlyas is imported and used by the tibetans near the frontier. a thick layer of it, when wet, is rubbed and left upon the broken limb, over which the bandaging is afterwards done. in a healthy person, a simple fracture of the leg, which by chance has been properly set, takes from twenty to thirty days to heal, after which the patient can begin moving about; and a broken arm does not require to be kept in a sling more than fifteen or twenty days. if these cures are somewhat more rapid than with our more civilised methods of bone-setting, it is merely due to the wholesome climate and the fact that the natives spend most of their days out in the open air and in the sun, undoubtedly the best cure for any complaint of that kind; but, of course, it is but seldom that the bones are joined properly, and they generally remain a deformity. more satisfactory results are obtained with cases of dislocations by pulling the bones into their right position. in case of wounds the bleeding is arrested by the application of a wet rag tightly bound over the wound. in most cases of unbandaged wounds that came under my notice the process of healing was a very slow one, the great changes in the temperature between night and day often causing them to open of themselves. they made good headway towards recovery in the beginning, but the skin was very slow in joining and re-forming. burns are treated by smearing butter over them; and a poultice of rhubarb is used to send down swellings of contusions as well as for the purpose of bringing boils, from which the tibetans suffer much, to a speedy maturation. aconite is given for fever and rheumatism, and a rough kind of massage is used to allay pain in the muscles of limbs. it is generally done by the women, who, as far as i could judge, practised it with no real knowledge but merely contented themselves with violent rubbing and pinching and thumping until signs of relief appeared on the sufferer's face. whether, however, these manifestations were due to actual soothing of pain, or to the prospect of the masseuse bringing her treatment to an end, i could never properly ascertain. tibetan fingers are not well adapted for such work, being clumsy and, compared with those of other asiatic races, quite stiff and hard. cupping is adopted with success. three or four small incisions are made close to one another and a conical cupping-horn about seven inches long, having a tiny hole at its point, is applied over them. the operator then sucks through this small aperture until the horn is full of blood, when it is removed and the operation begun again. with poisoned wounds the sucking is done by applying the lips to the wound itself. bleeding is used as a remedy for bruises and swellings, and for internal pain, also for acute attacks of rheumatism and articular pains. if it is not sufficient, the branding cure is resorted to, and if this should also fail, then the tinder cones, to be described later on, come into play and, the seat of the pain being encircled with them, they are set alight. when even this remedy proves inefficacious, and the patient survives it, the illness is pronounced incurable! natural abnormalities and deformities are frequent enough in tibet, and some came under my notice in nearly every camp i entered. deformities of the spine were common, such as displacement of the shoulder-blades; and i saw during my stay in tibet many cases of actually humpbacked people. there were frequent cases, too, of crookedness of the legs, and clubfoot was not rare, while one constantly met with webbed fingers and supernumerary fingers and toes, as well as the absence of one or more of them. malformations of the skull, such as the two sides being of marked unequal shape or an abnormal distance between the eye sockets, were the two most common deformities that came under my notice. the ears of men of the better classes were much elongated artificially by the constant wearing of heavy earrings, which sometimes even tore the lobe of the ear. the most frequent and curious of all was the extreme swelling of children's stomachs, caused by the umbilical cord not being properly tied at birth. the operation was generally performed by the mother and father of the newly-born or by some friend at hand. the infants had such enormous paunches that in some cases they were hardly able to stand; but, as they grew older, the swelling seemed to gradually abate and the body assumed its normal shape. deafness was common, but i never came across any dumb people, though i now and then encountered cases of painful stammering and other defects of articulation arising from malformation of the palate and tongue. occasionally, however, the difficulty of speech was caused by dementia, which seemed very common in tibet, especially among the young men. whether it was caused by cardiac affection subsequent to organic vices, as i suspected, or by other trouble, i could not say for certain, but presently i based my suspicions on certain facts which i happened to notice, besides the presence of symptoms indicating great nervous depression and strain, extreme weakness of the spine and oscillations of the hands when spread horizontally with the fingers and thumbs wide apart. this may in one way be accounted for by the difficulty that men have in obtaining wives, owing to the scarcity of women. apoplectic and epileptic fits and convulsions were not of very frequent occurrence, but they seemed severe when they did occur. the fire cure was usually applied in order to drive away the spirits that were supposed to have entered the body, but, all the same, these fits at times resulted in temporary or occasionally permanent paralysis, and much derangement and disfiguration of the facial expression, particularly about the eyes and mouth. i had occasion to study three very good specimens of this kind at tucker, at tarbar, north of the brahmaputra river, and at tokchim. much to my regret i never came across any violent cases of insanity during my stay in the country, though many times i observed strange peculiarities among the men, and signs of mania, more particularly religious. in women i several times noticed symptoms of melancholia, caused no doubt by abuse of sexual intercourse, owing to their strange laws of polyandry. i was told that occasionally it led to suicide by drowning or strangulation. however, i was never able to keep any of the suspicious cases under close observation for any length of time, and, as our arrival into tibetan camps generally created some amount of fear and sensation, and we usually left before they could be quite at home with us, i never had a chance of studying the subject more closely. [illustration: the tokchim tarjum] chapter xlix a tibetan medicine-man--lumbago, and a startling cure for it--combustible fuses--fire and butter--prayers, agony, and distortions--strange ideas on medicine. strange as the tibetan remedies seemed to be, none came up, as far as interest went, to one i saw applied at a place called kutzia. i had entered a camp of some twenty or thirty tents, when my attention was drawn to an excited crowd collected round an old man whose garments had been removed. he was tightly bound with ropes, and agony was depicted on his features. a tall, long-haired man with red coat and heavy boots knelt by the side of the sufferer and prayed fervently, twirling round a prayer-wheel which he held in his right hand. my curiosity aroused, i approached the gathering, whereupon three or four tibetans got up and signed to me to be off. i pretended not to understand, and, after a heated discussion, i was allowed to remain. an operation was obviously being performed by a tibetan medicine-man, and the suspense in the crowd round the sick man was considerable. the doctor was busy preparing combustible fuses, which he wrapped up carefully in silk paper. when cut in the centre they formed two cones, each with a little tail of twisted paper protruding beyond its summit. having completed six or eight of these, the medicine-man made his patient, or rather his victim, assume a sitting posture. i inquired what ailed the sick man. from what they told me, and from an examination made on my own account, i was satisfied that the man was suffering from an attack of lumbago. the coming cure, however, interested me more than the illness itself, and the doctor, seeing how absorbed i was in the performance, asked me to sit by his side. first of all the man called for "fire," and a woman handed him a blazing brand from a fire near by. he swung it to and fro in the air, and pronounced certain exorcisms. next the patient was subjected to a thorough examination, giving vent to a piercing yell each time that the long bony fingers of the physician touched his sides, whereupon the man of science, pointing to the spot, informed his open-mouthed audience that the pain was "there." putting on a huge pair of spectacles, he rubbed with the palm of his hand the umbilical region of the sufferer and then measured with folded thumb two inches on each side of, and slightly under, the umbilicus. to mark these distances he used the burning brand, applying it to the flesh at these points. "_murr, murr!_" ("butter, butter!") he next called for, and butter was produced. having rubbed a little on the burns, he placed upon each of them a separate cone, and pressed until it remained a fixture, the point upwards. shifting the beads of a rosary, revolving the praying-wheel, and muttering prayers, the medicine-man now worked himself into a perfect frenzy. he stared at the sun, raising his voice from a faint whisper to a thundering baritone at its loudest, and his whole audience seemed so affected by the performance that they all shook and trembled and prayed in their terror. he now again nervously clutched the burning wood in one hand, and, blowing upon it with the full strength of his lungs, produced a flame. the excitement in the crowd became intense. every one, head down to the ground, prayed fervently. the doctor waved the ignited wood three or four times in the air and then applied the flames to the paper tips of the combustible cones. apparently saltpetre and sulphur had been mixed in the preparation of these. they burned fast, making a noise like the fuse of a rocket. at this juncture the animation of the onlookers was not to be compared with the agitation of the patient, who began to feel the effects of this primitive remedy. the fire spluttered on his bare skin. the cure was doing its work. the wretched man's mouth foamed, and his eyes bulged out of their sockets. he moaned and groaned, making desperate efforts to unloose the bonds that kept his hands fast behind his back. two stalwart men sprang forward and held him, while the medicine-man and all the women present, leaning over the prostrate form, blew with all their might upon what remained of the three smoking cones frizzling away into the flesh of the wretched victim. the pain of which the man complained seemed to encircle his waist, wherefore the strange physician, having untied his patient's arms from behind, and retied them in front, began his measurements again, this time from the spinal column. [illustration: a medicine-man] "_chik, ni, sum!_" ("one, two, three!") he exclaimed, as he marked the three spots in the same fashion as before, smeared them over with butter, and affixed the cones. here ensued a repetition of the previous excitement; prayers, agony, and distortions, but the patient was not thoroughly cured, and more cones were subsequently ignited on both his sides, in spite of his protests and my appeals on his behalf. the poor fellow soon had a regular circle of severe burns round his body. needless to say, when, two hours later, the operation was over, the sick man had become a dying man. with a view to obtaining a few hints on tibetan medicine from this eminent physician--the tibetans held him in great esteem--i sent him a small present and requested him to visit me. he was flattered and showed no desire to keep his methods a secret, but even pressed me to try some of his unique remedies. according to him, fire would cure most illnesses; what fire could not cure, water would. he had, nevertheless, some small packets of variously coloured powders, for which he claimed extraordinary powers. "i am afraid your patient will die," i remarked. "he may," was the reply, "but it will be the fault of the patient, not the cure. besides, what does it matter whether you die to-day or to-morrow?" and with this unprofessional dictum he left me. chapter l tucker village--chokdens--houses--flying prayers--soldiers or robbers?--a stampede--fresh provisions--disappointment--treachery--shokas leave me--observations--five men, all counted! when i left the gomba, having been salaamed to the ground by my new friends the lamas, i walked about the village to examine all there was to be seen. along the water's edge stood a number of dilapidated chokdens made of mud and stones, with a square base surmounted by a moulding, and an upper decoration in steps, topped by a cylindrical column. they were in a row at the east end of the village, and, as is well known, they are supposed to contain a piece of bone, cloth or metal, and books or parts of them, that had once belonged to a great man or a saint. roughly drawn images are occasionally found in them. in rare cases, when cremation has been applied, the ashes are collected into a small earthenware urn, and deposited in one of the chokdens. the ashes are usually made into a paste with clay, on which, when flattened like a medallion, a representation of buddha is either stamped from a mould, or engraved by means of a pointed tool. the interior of the houses at tucker was no more pleasing than the exterior. each habitation had a walled courtyard, and the top of the wall, as well as the edge of the flat roof, was lined with masses of tamarisk for fuel. in the courtyard, sheep and goats were penned at night; and the human beings who occupied the rooms were dirty beyond all description. there were hundreds of flying prayers over the monastery as well as over each house, and as the people stood on their roofs watching us, laughing and chatting, the place had quite a gay aspect. while i was strolling about some fifty or sixty men appeared on the scene, armed with matchlocks and swords, and i looked upon them with suspicion, but kachi reassured me, and said they were not soldiers, but a powerful band of robbers encamped about half a mile off, and on very friendly terms with the lamas. as a precaution, i loaded my rifle, which was quite sufficient to occasion a stampede of the armed crowd, followed, in the panic, by all the other villagers that had collected round us. like all tibetans, they were a miserable lot, though powerfully built, and with plenty of bounce about them. [illustration: the panku gomba] early in the morning i had made inquiries about provisions, and had arranged for the purchase of two fat sheep and some lbs. of food (flour, rice, _tsamba, ghur_, sugar, salt and butter), and several tibetans stated that they could supply me with any quantity i required. among others was a trader from buddhi, darcey bura's brother, who promised to bring me within an hour a sufficient quantity of food to last us ten men twenty-five days. i noticed, when these men left, that two of my shokas ran after them, and entered into an excited discussion with them. some two or three hours later, the traders returned, swearing that not an ounce of food could be obtained in the place. the way in which these men could lie was indeed marvellous to study. i suspected treachery, and reprimanded my shokas, threatening to punish them very severely if my suspicions proved to be well founded. the shokas, knowing themselves discovered, and partly through fear of the tibetans, were now again quite unreasonable and demoralised. it was no use keeping them by force and i decided to discharge them. from the moment i had entered the forbidden country i had been compelled to protect myself against them as much as against the tibetans. i reflected, however, when i made up my mind to let them go, that these fellows had stood for my sake hardships and privations which few men could stand; and in paying them off i therefore rewarded them suitably, and they undertook to bring back safely across the frontier part of my baggage containing photographs, ethnological collections, &c. with infinite trouble i then managed to purchase enough provisions to last five men ten days. the whole party accompanied me three-and-a-quarter miles farther, where, in sight of the tumble-down panku gomba, a mile to the west of us, we halted in order to make the necessary arrangements for our parting, unseen by the tibetans. i took observations for latitude and longitude. the water of the hypsometrical apparatus boiled at ° fahr. fifty feet above the level of the lake, the temperature of the air being ° and the hour a.m. we had a high snowy chain to the south of us, extending from ° to ° (b.m.), the direction of the range being approximately from south-west to north-east, starting at nimo namgil. when everything was ready, the five shokas, including kachi and dola, left me, swearing by the sun and all that they hold most sacred, that they would in no way betray me to the tibetans, who so far had no suspicion as to who i was. bijesing the johari and the kutial bura nattoo agreed to accompany me as far as the maium pass, so that my party, including myself, now was reduced to only five. chapter li the start with a further reduced party--a reconnaissance--natural fortress--black tents and animals--on the wrong tack--slings and their use--a visit to a tibetan camp--mistaken for brigands--bargaining and begging. all was promising well when, with my reduced party, i started towards the n.e., first following for three-and-a-quarter miles a course of °,[ ] skirting the lake, then ascending over the barren hill ranges in a direction of ° for a distance of twelve miles. the journey was uneventful, and my four men seemed in the best of spirits. we descended to a plain where water and grass could be found, and having seen a camping-ground with a protecting wall, such as are usually put up by tibetans at their halting-places, we made ourselves comfortable for the night, notwithstanding the high wind and a passing storm of hail and rain, which drenched us to the skin. the thermometer during the night went down to °. at sunrise i started to make a reconnaissance from the top of a high hill wherefrom i could get a bird's-eye view of a great portion of the surrounding country. it was of the utmost importance for me to find out which would be the easiest way to get through the intricate succession of hills and mountains, and to discover the exact direction of a large river to the n. of us, throwing itself into the mansarowar, the name of which no one could tell me. i started alone towards ° ' (b.m.), and three-and-a-half miles' climb brought me to , feet on the summit of a hill, where i was able to ascertain and note down all that i wished to know. i returned to camp, and we went on towards ° ', crossing over a pass , feet, and ultimately finding ourselves at the foot of a hill, the summit of which resembled a fortress, with flying-prayers flapping to and fro in the wind. at the foot of the hill were some twenty ponies grazing. [illustration: sling] with the aid of my telescope i was able to make sure that what at first appeared to be a castle was nothing but a work of nature, and that apparently no one was concealed up there. the ponies, however, indicated the presence of men, and we had to move cautiously. in fact, rounding the next hill, we discerned in the grassy valley below a number of black tents, two hundred yaks, and about a thousand sheep. we kept well out of sight behind the hill, and making a long détour, we at last descended in an extensive valley, in which the river described a semicircle, washing the southern hill ranges, where it was joined by a tributary coming from the s.e. this tributary at first appeared to me larger than what i afterwards recognised to be the main stream, so that i followed its course for four miles ( ° ' b.m.), till i found that it was taking me in a more southerly direction than i wished, and had to retrace my steps along a flattish plateau. meeting two tibetan women, i purchased, after endless trouble, a fat sheep out of a flock they were driving before them. these two females carried rope slings in their hands, and the accuracy with which they could fling stones and hit the mark at very great distances was really marvellous. for the sake of a few annas they gave an exhibition of their skill, hitting any sheep you pointed at in their flock, even at distances of thirty and forty yards. i tried to obtain from these dangerous females a little information about the country, but they professed absolute ignorance. "we are menials," they said, "and we know nothing. we know each sheep in our flock, and that is all, but our lord, of whom we are the slaves, knows all. he knows where the rivers come from, and the ways to all gombas. he is a great king." "and where does he live?" i inquired. "there, two miles off, where that smoke rises to the sky." the temptation was great to go and call on this "great king," who knew so many things, all the more so as we might probably persuade him to sell us provisions, which, as we had none too many, would be of great assistance to us. anyhow the visit would be interesting, and i decided to risk it. [illustration: a natural castle] we steered towards the several columns of smoke that rose before us, and eventually we approached a large camp of black tents. our appearance caused a good deal of commotion, and men and women rushed in and out of their tents in great excitement. "_jogpas, jogpas!_" ("brigands! brigands!") somebody in their camp shouted, and in a moment their matchlocks were made ready, and the few men who had remained outside the tents drew their swords, holding them clumsily in their hands in a way hardly likely to terrify any one. to be taken for brigands was a novel experience for us, and the warlike array was in strange contrast to the terrified expressions on the faces of those who stood there armed. in fact, when chanden sing and i walked forward and encouraged them to sheathe their steels and put their matchlocks by, they readily followed our advice, and brought out rugs for us to sit upon. having overcome their fright, they were now most anxious to be pleasant. "_kiula gunge gozai deva labodù!_" ("you have nice clothes!") i began the conversation, attempting flattery, to put the chieftain at his ease. "_lasso, leh!_" ( "yes, sir") answered the tibetan, apparently astonished, and looking at his own attire with an air of comical pride. his answer was sufficient to show me that the man considered me his superior, the affirmative in tibetan to an equal or inferior being the mere word _lasso_ without the _leh_. [illustration: woman carrying child in basket] "_kiula tuku taka zando?_" ("how many children have you?") i rejoined. "_ni_." ("two.") "_chuwen bogpe, tsamba, chou won[)i]?_" ("will you sell me flour or _tsamba?_") "_middù_--have not got any," he replied, making several quick semicircular movements with the up-turned palm of his right hand. this is a most characteristic action of the tibetan, and nearly invariably accompanies the word "no," instead of a movement of the head, as with us. "_keran ga naddoung?_" ("where are you going?") he asked me eagerly. "_nhgarang ne koroun!_" ("i am a pilgrim!") "_lungba quorghen neh jelghen_." ("i go looking at sacred places.") "_gopria zaldo. chakzal wortzié. tsamba middù. bogpe middù, guram middù, dié middù, kassur middù._" ("i am very poor. please hear me. i have no _tsamba_, no flour, no sweet paste, no rice, no dried fruit.") this, of course, i knew to be untrue, so i calmly said that i would remain seated where i was until food was sold to me, and at the same time produced one or two silver coins, the display of which to the covetous eyes of the tibetans was always the means of hastening the transaction of business. in small handfuls, after each of which the tibetans swore that they had not another atom to sell, i managed, with somewhat of a trial to my patience, to purchase some twenty pounds of food. the moment the money was handed over they had a quarrel among themselves about it, and almost came to blows, greed and avarice being the most marked characteristic of the tibetans. no tibetan of any rank is ashamed to beg in the most abject manner for the smallest silver coin, and when he sells and is paid, he always implores for another coin, to be thrown into the bargain. [ ] all bearings given are magnetic. chapter lii what the men were like--their timidity--leather work--metal work--blades and swords--filigree--saddles and harness--pack saddles. the men of the party were extremely picturesque, with hair flowing down their shoulders and long pigtails ornamented with pieces of red cloth, circles of ivory and silver coins. nearly all had the stereotyped pattern coat, with ample sleeves hanging well over the hands, and pulled up at the waist to receive the paraphernalia of eating-bowls, snuff-box, &c., employed in daily life. most of them were dressed in dark red, and all were armed with jewelled swords. with flat, broad noses and slits of piercing eyes, high cheek-bones and skin giving out abundant oily excretions, most of the men stood at a respectful distance, scrutinising our faces and watching our movements apparently with much interest. i have hardly ever seen such cowardice and timidity as among these big, hulking fellows; to a european it scarcely seems conceivable. the mere raising of one's eyes was sufficient to make a man dash away frightened, and, with the exception of the chief, who pretended to be unafraid, notwithstanding that even he was trembling with fear, they one and all showed ridiculous nervousness when i approached them to examine their clothes or the ornaments they wore round their necks, the most prominent of which were the charm-boxes that dangled on their chests. the larger of these charm-boxes contained an image of budda, the others were mere brass or silver cases with nothing in them. i was struck here, as well as in other camps, by the skill of the tibetans in working leather, which they tan and prepare themselves, often giving to it a fine red or green colour. as a rule, however, the natural tint is preserved, especially when the leather is used for belts, bullet and powder-pouches, and flint-and-steel cases. the hair of the skins is removed by plucking and scraping, and preference is shown for skins of the yak, antelope, and kiang. the tibetans are masters of the art of skinning, the hides being afterwards beaten, trodden upon and manipulated to be rendered soft. there were simple ornamentations stamped upon some of the leather articles, but in most instances either metal or leather ornaments of various colours were fastened on the belts and pouches, iron clasps inlaid with silver or silver ones being the commonest. [illustration: tibetan young man] these metals are found in the country, and the tibetans smelt and cast the ore when sufficient fuel is obtainable for the purpose. earthen crucibles are employed to liquefy the metals, and the castings are made in clay moulds. for the inlaid work, in which the tibetans greatly excel, they use hammer and chisel. inlaid ornamentation is frequently to be seen on the sheaths of tibetan swords, the leaf pattern, varied scrolls and geometrical combinations being most commonly preferred. the process of hardening metals is still in its infancy, and tibetan blades are of wrought-iron, and not of steel. they succeed, however, in bringing them to a wonderful degree of sharpness, although they entirely lack the elasticity of steel blades. grooves to let in air, and thus make wounds incurable, are generally ground in the sides of the daggers, but the blades of the common swords are perfectly smooth and made to cut on one side only. as can be seen from the illustrations, these weapons are hardly adapted to meet the requirements of severe fighting, as they do not allow a firm grip, nor have they any guard for the hand. the sheaths and handles of some of the more valuable swords are made of solid silver inlaid with turquoises and coral beads, others of silver with gold ornamentations. at lhassa and at sigatz (shigatze), silver filigree decorations are used on the best daggers; but nowhere else in tibet is fine wire-making practised. [illustration: swords] it must not be inferred from the above remarks that there are no steel swords in tibet, for indeed many fine blades of excellent chinese steel can be seen all over the country in the possession of the richer officials, such as the huge two-handed, double-edged swords of chinese importation, used by tibetan executioners. the saddles, though possibly lacking comfort, are nevertheless skilfully made. the frame is made of solid wood (imported) and set in hammered iron (often inlaid with silver and gold, as in the saddle here reproduced), which, like a mexican saddle, is very high in front and at the back. lizard skin or coloured leather is employed to decorate certain parts, and a pad covers the seat. a rug is, however, invariably placed over this pad for comfort, and the short iron stirrups compel one to sit with legs doubled up, a really not uncomfortable position when one gets used to it. breastpiece, crupper, bridle and bit are of leather ornamented with inlaid metal pieces. double bags for _tsamba_, butter, &c. are fastened behind the saddle, together with the inevitable peg and long rope, with which no tibetan rider is unprovided, for the tethering of his pony at night. [illustration: saddle] pack-saddles for yaks are made on the same principle, but are of much rougher construction, as can be judged from the illustrations,[ ] in which the two saddles i used on my journey are represented. the baggage is made fast by means of ropes to the two upper bars. to keep the saddle in position on the yak, and to prevent sores being inflicted, pads and blankets are laid upon the animal's back. add to this protection the long coat possessed by the beast itself, and it will be clear why it very seldom sustains the slightest injury from these apparently cruel burdens. [ ] see page . chapter liii rain in torrents--a miserable night--a gorge--a gigantic inscription--sheltered under boulders--a fresh surprise--only two followers left. when night came on, i did not consider it safe to encamp near the tibetans. we moved away, driving our yaks before us and dragging the newly purchased sheep. we marched two-and-a-half miles, and then halted in a depression in the ground ( , feet), where we had a little shelter from the wind, which blew with great force. to our right lay a short range of fairly high mountains running from north to south, and cut by a gorge, out of which flowed a large stream. at that time of the evening we could not hope to cross it, but an attempt might be made in the morning, when the cold of the night would have checked the melting of the snows. heavy showers had fallen frequently during the day, and the moment the sun went down there was a regular downpour. our little _tente-d'abri_ had been pitched, but we had to clear out of it a couple of hours later, the small basin in which we had pitched it having been turned into a regular pond. there was no alternative for us but to come out into the open, for where the water did not flood us the wind was so high and the ground so moist that it was not possible to keep our tent up. the pegs would not hold. the hours of the night seemed very long as we sat tightly wrapped up in our waterproofs, with feet, hands and ears frozen, and the water dripping down upon us. at dawn there were no signs of the storm abating. we had not been able to light a fire in the evening, nor could we light one now, and we were cold, hungry and miserable. the thermometer had been down to °. towards noon, the rain still pouring down in torrents and there being no sign of its clearing, we loaded our yaks and entered the gorge between the snow-covered mountains. with difficulty we crossed the tributary we had so far followed, and then proceeded along the right bank of the main stream to ° ", then to °. [illustration: camp with gigantic inscription] we were so exhausted and wet that, when towards evening we came to an enormous cliff, on the rocky face of which a patient lama sculptor had engraved in gigantic letters the everlasting characters, _omne mani padme hun_, we halted. the gorge was very narrow here, and we managed to find a dry spot under a big boulder, but as there was not sufficient room for all five, the two shokas went under the shelter of another rock a little way off. this seemed natural enough, nor could i anticipate any danger, taking care myself of the weapons and the scientific instruments, while the shokas had under their own sheltering boulder the bags containing nearly all our provisions except tinned meats. the rain pelted all night, the wind howled, and again we could not light a fire. the thermometer did not fall below °, but the cold, owing to our drenched condition, seemed intense. in fact, we were so frozen that we did not venture to eat, but, crouching ourselves in the small dry space at our disposal, we eventually fell fast asleep without tasting food. i slept soundly for the first time since i had been in tibet, and it was broad daylight when i woke up, to find the man nattoo from kuti, and bijesing the johari, departed from under their sheltering rock, together with the loads entrusted to them. i discovered their tracks, half washed away, in the direction from which we had come the previous night. the rascals had bolted, and there would have been comparatively little harm in that, if only they had not taken with them all the stock of provisions for my two hindoo servants, and a quantity of good rope, straps, and other miscellaneous articles, which we were bound to miss at every turn and which we had absolutely no means of replacing. of thirty picked servants who had started with me, twenty-eight had now abandoned me, and only two remained: faithful chanden sing and mansing the leper! the weather continued horrible, with no food for my men and no fuel! i proposed to the two to go back also and let me continue alone. i described to them the dangers of following me farther, and warned them fully, but they absolutely refused to leave me. "sahib, we are not shokas," were their words. "if you die, we will die with you. we fear not death. we are sorry to see you suffer, sahib, but never mind us. we are only poor people, therefore it is of no consequence." chapter liv my time fully occupied--our own yak drivers--a heavy blow--along the stream--soldiers in pursuit of us--discovered. this last disaster should, i suppose, have deterred us from further progress, but it somehow made me even more determined to persist than i was before. it was no light job to have to run afield oneself to capture the yaks, which had wandered off in search of grass; and having found them and driven them back to our primitive camping-place, to tie upon their backs the pack-saddles, and fasten on them the heavy tin-lined cases of scientific instruments and photographic plates. this task was only part of the day's routine, which included the writing up of my diary, the registering of observations, sketching, photographing, changing plates in cameras, occasionally developing them, surveying, cleaning of rifles, revolver, &c. &c. the effort of lifting up the heavy cases on to the pack-saddles was, owing to our exhausted condition, a severe tax on our strength, and the tantalising restlessness of the yaks forced us to make several attempts before we actually succeeded in properly fastening the loads, particularly as we had lost our best pieces of rope and leather straps. our sole remaining piece of rope seemed hardly long enough to make the final knot to one of the girths; anyhow neither my bearer nor mansing had sufficient strength to pull and make it join; so i made them hold the yak by the horns to keep him steady while i pulled my hardest. i succeeded with a great effort, and was about to get up, when a terrific blow from the yak's horn struck me in the skull an inch behind my right ear and sent me rolling head over heels. i was stunned for several moments, and the back of my head was swollen and sore for many days, the mark of the blow being visible even now. [illustration: yak with cases of scientific instruments] we proceeded along the right bank of the river on a course of ° between reddish hills and distant high snowy mountains to the n.w. and e.s.e. of us, which we saw from time to time when the rain ceased and the sky cleared. the momentary lifting of the clouds would be followed by another downpour, and the marching became very unpleasant and difficult, as we sank deep in the mud. towards evening, we suddenly discovered some hundred and fifty soldiers riding full gallop in pursuit of us along the river valley. we pushed on, and having got out of their sight behind a hill, we deviated from our course and rapidly climbed up to the top of the hill range; my two men and the yaks concealed themselves on the other side. i remained lying flat on the top of the hill, spying with my telescope the movements of our pursuers. they rode unsuspectingly on, the tinkling of their horse-bells sounding pleasant to the ear at that deserted spot. they made a pretty picture, and, thinking probably that we had continued our way along the river, they rode past the spot where we had left the path, and, possibly owing to their haste to catch us up, did not notice our tracks up the hillside. rain began to fall heavily again, and we remained encamped at , feet with all our loads ready for flight at any moment; the night being spent none too comfortably. i sat up all night, rifle in hand, in case of a surprise, and i was indeed glad when day dawned. the rain had stopped, but we were now enveloped in a white mist which chilled us. i was very tired, and telling chanden sing to keep a sharp watch, tried to sleep for a while. [illustration: with only two men i proceeded towards lhassa] "_hazur, hazur! jaldi apka banduk!_" ("sir, sir, quick, your rifle!") muttered my bearer, rousing me. "do you hear the sound of bells?" the tinkling was quite plain. as our pursuers were approaching, evidently in a strong body, there was no time to be lost. to successfully evade them appeared impossible, so i decided to meet them, rather than attempt flight. chanden sing and i were armed with our rifles, and mansing with his gourkha _kukri_, and thus we awaited their arrival. there came out of the mist a long procession of grey, phantomlike figures, each one leading a pony. the advance guard stopped from time to time to examine the ground; having discovered our footprints only partially washed away by the rain, they were following them up. seeing us at last on the top of the hill, they halted. there was commotion among them, and they held an excited consultation; some of them unslung their matchlocks, others drew their swords, while we sat on a rock above and watched them with undivided attention. chapter lv an interview--peace or war?--gifts and the scarf of friendship--the _kata_--the end of a friendly visit. after hesitating a little, four officers signalled to us that they wished to approach. "you are a great king!" shouted one at the top of his voice, "and we want to lay these presents at your feet," and he pointed to some small bags which the other three men were carrying. "_gelbo! chakzal! chakzal!_" ("we salute you, king!") i felt anything but regal after the wretched night we had spent, but i wished to treat the natives with due deference and politeness whenever it was possible. i said that four men might approach, but the bulk of the party was to withdraw to a spot about two hundred yards away. this they immediately did, a matter of some surprise to me after the warlike attitude they had assumed at first. they laid their matchlocks down in the humblest fashion, and duly replaced their swords in their sheaths. the four officers approached, and when quite close to us, threw the bags on the ground and opened them to show us their contents. there was _tsamba_, flour, _chura_ (a kind of cheese), _guram_ (sweet paste), butter, and dried fruit. the officers were most profuse in their humble salutations. they had removed their caps and thrown them on the ground, and they kept their tongues sticking out of their mouths until i begged them to draw them in. they professed to be the subordinates of the tokchim tarjum, who had despatched them to inquire after my health, and who wished me to look upon him as my best friend. well aware of the difficulties we must encounter in travelling through such an inhospitable country, the tarjum, they said, wished me to accept the gifts they now laid before me, and with these they handed me a _kata_, or "the scarf of love and friendship," a long piece of thin silklike gauze, the end of which had been cut into a fringe. in tibet these _katas_ accompany every gift, and no caller ever goes about without one, which instantly on arrival he produces for presentation to his host. the high lamas sell them to devotees, and one or more of these scarves is presented to those who leave a satisfactory oblation after visiting a lamasery and temple. if a verbal message is sent to a friend, a _kata_ is sent with it, and among officials and lamas small pieces of this silk gauze are enclosed even in letters. not to give or send a _kata_ to an honoured visitor is considered a breach of good manners and is equivalent to a slight. [illustration: a kata] i hastened to express my thanks for the tarjum's kindness, and i handed the messengers a sum in silver of three times the value of the articles presented. the men seemed very pleasant and friendly, and we chatted for some time. much to my annoyance, poor mansing, bewildered at the sight of so much food, could no longer resist the pangs of hunger and, caring little for the breach of etiquette and likely consequences, proceeded to fill his mouth with handfuls of flour, cheese and butter. this led the tibetans to suspect that we must be starving, and with their usual shrewdness they determined to take advantage of it. "the tarjum," said the oldest of the messengers, "wishes you to come back and be his guest, when he will feed you and your men, and you will then go back to your country." "thank you," i replied; "we do not want the tarjum's food, nor do we wish to go back. i am greatly obliged for his kindness, but we will continue our journey." "then," angrily said a young and powerful tibetan, "if you continue your journey we will take back our gifts." "and your _kata!_" i rejoined, sending first the large ball of butter flying into his chest, and after it the small bags of flour, _tsamba_, cheese, fruit, &c., a minute earlier prettily laid out before us. this unexpected bombardment quite upset the tibetans, who, with powdered coats, hair and faces, scampered away as best they could, while chanden sing, always as quick as lightning when it was a case of hitting, pounded away with the butt of his rifle at the roundest part of one ambassador's body, as in his clumsy clothes he attempted to get up and run. mansing, the philosopher of our party, interrupted in his feed but not put out, nor concerned in what was going on, picked up the fruit and cheese and pieces of butter scattered all over the place, mumbling that it was a shame to throw away good food in such a reckless fashion. the soldiers, who had been watching attentively from a distance the different phases of the interview, considered it prudent to beat a hasty retreat, and, mounting their steeds with unmistakable dispatch, galloped pell-mell down the hill, and then along the valley of the river, until they were lost to sight in the mist, while the poor ambassadors, who had been unable to rejoin their ponies, followed as quickly as possible under the circumstances, considering the rarefied air and rough ground. their cries of distress, caused by fear alone, for we had done them no harm, served to strengthen the contempt in which my men by now held the tibetan soldiers and their officers. the scene really was comical, and i made as much capital as i could out of it, laughing with my companions and ridiculing to them the supposed valour of tibetans. when the tibetans were out of sight, chanden sing and i pocketed our pride and helped mansing to collect the dried dates, apricots, the pieces of _chura_, butter and _guram_. then having loaded our yaks we marched on. chapter lvi rain in torrents--a swampy plain--the sun at last--our yaks stolen and recovered. we were not in luck. the weather continued squally in the morning, and in the afternoon the rain was again torrential. we went towards ° over uninteresting and monotonous grey country with a chain of snowy peaks stretching from south-west to north-east. we waded through a fairly deep and very cold river, and subsequently rose over a pass , feet. a number of hunyas, with flocks of several thousand sheep, came in sight, but we avoided them. they did not see us. at the point where we crossed it, the main stream turns in a graceful bend to ° (b.m.). we climbed over hilly and barren country to an altitude of , feet, where several small lakelets were to be found, and, having marched in all fourteen and a-half miles in a drenching rain, we descended into a large valley. here we had great difficulty in finding a spot where to rest for the night. the plain was simply a swamp, with several lakes and ponds, and we sank everywhere in mud and water. all our bedding and clothes were soaked to such an extent that it really made no difference where we halted; so we pitched our little tent on the banks of a stream coming out of a valley to the north, from which, extending in an easterly direction, rose a series of pyramidal mountains, covered with snow, and all of almost equal height and base. to the south were high peaks with great quantities of snow upon them. this valley was at an elevation of , feet, and the cold was intense. [illustration: torrential rain] at night the rain came down in bucketsful, and our _tente d'abri_ gave us but little shelter. we were lying inside in water, and all the trenches in the world could not have kept it from streaming in. in fact, it is no exaggeration to say that the whole valley was a sheet of water from one to several inches deep. of course, we suffered intensely from cold, the thermometer dropping to ° at p.m., when a south-east wind blew furiously; and the rain fell mixed with sleet for a time, and was followed by a heavy snowstorm. we lay crouched up on the top of our baggage, so as not to sleep on the frozen water, and when we woke in the morning our tent had half collapsed owing to the weight of snow upon it. during the day the temperature went up and rain fell afresh, so that when we resumed our marching, we sank into a mixture of mud, snow and water several inches deep. we had to cross three rivers, and to skirt five lakes of various sizes, following a course of ° '. seven miles of this dreary marching saw us encamped ( , feet) by the foot of a conical hill , feet, where an almost identical repetition of the previous night's experience took place. the thermometer was down to °, but fortunately the wind subsided at eight in the evening. as luck would have it, the sun came out the following day, and we were able to spread out all our things to dry, during which process we had yet another novel experience. [illustration: head of brigand] our two yaks had disappeared. i climbed up to the summit of the hill above camp, and with my telescope scoured the plain. the two animals were some distance off being led away by ten or twelve men on horseback, who drove in front of them a flock of about five hundred sheep. by their clothing i recognised the strangers to be robbers. naturally i started post haste to recover my property, leaving chanden sing and mansing in charge of our camp. i caught them up as they marched slowly, though, when they perceived me, they hastened on, trying to get away. i shouted three times to them to stop, but they paid no heed to my words, so that i unslung my rifle and would have shot at them had the threat alone not been sufficient to make them reflect. they halted, and when i got near enough i claimed my two yaks back. they refused to give them up. they said they were twelve men, and were not afraid of one. dismounted from their ponies, they seemed ready to go for me. [illustration: brigands with sheep] as i saw them take out a flint and steel to light the fuses of their matchlocks, i thought i might as well have my innings first, and, before they could guess at my intention, i applied a violent blow with the muzzle of my rifle to the stomach of the man nearest to me. he collapsed, while i administered another blow to the right temple of another man who held his matchlock between his legs, and was on the point of striking his flint and steel to set the tinder on fire. he, too, staggered and fell clumsily. "_chakzal, chakzal! chakzal wortzié!_" ("we salute you, we salute you! please listen!") exclaimed a third brigand, with an expression of dismay, and holding up his thumbs, with his fist closed in sign of approval. "_chakzal_," i replied, shoving a cartridge into the mannlicher. "_middù, middù!_" ("no, no!") they entreated, promptly laying down their weapons. i purchased from these men about thirty pounds of _tsamba_ and eight of butter, and got one of them to carry this to my camp, while i, without further trouble, recovered my yaks and drove them back to where chanden sing and mansing were busy lighting a fire to make some tea. [illustration: saddle bags] chapter lvii travelling tibetans--over a high pass--a friendly meeting--a proffered banquet--ascent to , feet--looking for the gunkyo lake--surprised by a phantom army. towards noon, when our things had got almost dry in the warm sun, the sky became overclouded, and it again began to rain heavily. i was rather doubtful as to whether i should go over a pass some miles off to ° (b.m.), or should follow the course of the river and skirt the foot of the mountains. we saw a large number of tibetans travelling in the opposite direction to ours, and they all seemed much terrified when we approached them. we obtained from them a few more pounds of food, but they refused to sell us any sheep, of which they had thousands. i decided to attempt the first-mentioned route and, making our way first over a continuation of the flat plateau, then over undulating, ground, we came to two lakelets, at the foot of the pass in question. the ascent was comparatively gentle, over snow, and we followed the river descending from the top. about half-way up, on looking back, we saw eight soldiers galloping toward us. we waited for them; and as soon as they came up to us, they went through the usual servile salutations, depositing their arms on the ground to show that they had no intention of fighting. a long friendly palaver followed, the tibetans professing their friendship for us and their willingness to help us to get on in any way in their power. this was rather too good to be true, and i suspected treachery, all the more so when they pressed and entreated us to go back to their tents, where they wished us to remain as their highly-honoured guests, and where we should have all the luxuries that human mind can conceive showered upon us. on further specification, these were found to consist of presents of _chura_, cheese, butter, yak milk, and _tsamba_, and they said they would sell us ponies if we required them. the description was too glowing; so, taking all things into consideration, and allowing for the inaccuracy of speech of my interlocutors as well as of tibetans in general, i thanked them from the bottom of my heart and answered that i preferred to continue my way and bear my present sufferings. [illustration: phantom-like visitors] they perceived that i was not easy to catch, and, if anything, they respected me the more for it. in fact they could not disguise their amazement at my having got so far with only two men. when i had given my visitors some little present, we parted at last, in a very friendly manner. we climbed up to the pass ( , feet), and before us on the other side found a large stretch of flat land, some two thousand feet lower. i could see a lake, which i took to be the gunkyo. nevertheless, to make certain of it, i left my men and yaks on the pass and went to reconnoitre from a peak , feet high, n.e. of us. there was much snow and the ascent was difficult and tedious. when i got to the top another higher peak barred the view in front of me, so descending first and then ascending again, i climbed this second summit, finally reaching an elevation of , feet, and obtaining a good bird's-eye view of the country all round. there was a long snowy range to the north, and, directly under it, what i imagined to be a stretch of water, judging from the mist and clouds forming above it, and from the grass on the lower portion of the mountains. a hill range stood in my way, just high enough to conceal the lake behind it. i rejoined my men and we continued our march down the other side of the pass, sinking in deep, soft snow. we pitched our tent at a spot about five hundred feet higher than the plain below us, in a gorge formed by the two mountain sides coming close together. notwithstanding that i was now quite accustomed to great altitudes, the ascent to , feet had caused a certain exhaustion, and i should have been glad of a good night's rest. mansing and chanden sing, having eaten some food, slept soundly, but i felt very depressed. i had a peculiar sense of unrest and of some evil coming to us during the night. we were all three under our little tent, when i began to fancy there was some one outside. i do not know why the thought entered my head, for i heard no noise, but all the same i felt i must see and satisfy my curiosity. i peeped out of the tent with my rifle in hand, and saw a number of black figures cautiously crawling towards us. in a moment i was outside on my bare feet, running towards them and shouting at the top of my voice, "_pila tedau tedang!_" ("look out, look out!") which caused a stampede among our ghostlike visitors. there were, apparently, numbers of them hidden behind rocks, for when the panic seized them, the number of runaways was double or even treble that of the phantoms i had at first seen approaching. at one moment there seemed to be black ghosts springing out from everywhere, only, more solid than ghosts, they made a dreadful noise with their heavy boots as they ran in confusion down the steep descent and through the gorge. they turned sharply round the hill at the bottom and disappeared. when i crawled inside the tent again chanden sing and mansing, wrapped head and all in their blankets, were still snoring! chapter lviii a sleepless night--watching our enemy--a picturesque sight--a messenger--soldiers from lhassa--taken for a kashmeree--the gunkyo lake. naturally i passed a sleepless night after that, fearing that the unwelcome visitors might return. we speculated much as to how the tibetans had found us, and we could not help surmising that our friends of the previous afternoon must have put them on our track. however, such was the inconceivable cowardice shown on every occasion by the tibetans, that we got to attach no importance to these incidents, and not only did they not inspire us with fear, but they even ceased to excite or disturb us much. we went on as usual, descending to the plain, and when we had got half-way across it, i scoured the hills all round with my telescope to see if i could discern traces of our pusillanimous foes. "there they are," cried chanden sing, who had the most wonderful eyesight of any man i have known, as he pointed at the summit of a hill where, among the rocks, several heads could be seen peeping. we went on without taking further notice of them, and then they came out of their hiding-place, and we saw them descending the hill in a long line, leading their ponies. on reaching the plain they mounted their steeds and came full gallop towards us. they were quite a picturesque sight in their dark-red coats or brown and yellow skin robes and their vari-coloured caps. some wore bright red coats with gold braiding, and chinese caps. these were officers. the soldiers' matchlocks, to the rests of which red and white flags were attached, gave a touch of colour to the otherwise dreary scenery of barren hills and snow, and the tinkling of the horse-bells enlivened the monotony of these silent, inhospitable regions. they dismounted some three hundred yards from us, and one old man, throwing aside his matchlock and sword in a theatrical fashion, walked unsteadily towards us. we received him kindly, and he afforded us great amusement, for in his way he was a strange character. [illustration: the gunkyo lake] [illustration: "i am only a messenger"] "i am only a messenger," he hastened to state, "and therefore do not pour your anger upon me if i speak to you. i only convey the words of my officers, who do not dare to come for fear of being injured. news has been received at lhassa, from whence we have come, that a _plenki_ (an englishman) with many men is in tibet, and can be found nowhere. we have been sent to capture him. are you one of his advance guard?" "no," i replied drily. "i suppose that you have taken several months to come from lhassa." "oh no! our ponies are good," he answered; "and we have come quickly." "_chik, ni, sum, shi, nga, do, diu, ghieh, gu, chu, chuck chick, chuck ni_," the tibetan counted up to twelve, frowning and keeping his head inclined towards the right as if to collect his thoughts, at the same time holding up his hand, with the thumb folded against the palm, and turning down a finger as he called each number. the thumbs are never used in counting. "_lum chuck ni niman!_" "twelve days," said he, "have we been on the road. we have orders not to return till we have captured the _plenki_. and you?" asked he inquisitively, "how long have you taken to come from ladak?" he said that he could see by my face that i was a kashmeree, i being probably so burnt and dirty that it was hard to distinguish me from a native. the old man cross-examined me to find out whether i was a _pundit_ sent by the indian government to survey the country, and asked me why i had discarded my native clothes for _plenki_ (european) ones. he over and over again inquired whether i was not one of the _plenki's_ party. "_keran ga naddo ung?_" ("where are you going?") he queried. "_nhgarang no koroun lama jehlhuong._" ("i am a pilgrim," i replied, "going to visit monasteries.") "_keran mi japodù._" ("you are a good man.") he offered to show me the way to the gunkyo lake, and was so pressing that i accepted. however, when i saw the soldiers mount and follow us, i remonstrated with him, saying that if we were to be friends we did not need an army to escort us. "if you are our friend, you can come alone, and we will not injure you," i gave him to understand; "but if you are our enemy we will fight you and your army here at once, and we will save you the trouble of coming on." the tibetan, confused and hesitating, went to confabulate with his men, and returned some time after with eight of them, while the bulk of his force galloped away in the opposite direction. we went across the plain to ° (b.m.), until we came to a hill range, which we crossed over a pass , feet high. then, altering our course to ° ', we descended and ascended several hills, and at last found ourselves in the grassy sheltered valley of the large gunkyo lake, extending from south-east to north-west. with a temperature of ° (fahr.) the water in hypsometrical apparatus boiled at ° ½' at . in the evening. the lake was of extraordinary beauty, with the high snowy gangri mountains rising almost sheer from its waters, and on the southern side lofty hills forming a background wild and picturesque, but barren and desolate beyond all words. at the other end of the lake, to the north-west, were lower mountains skirting the water. we encamped at , feet, and the soldiers pitched their tent some fifty yards away. chapter lix in pleasant company--unpopularity of the lamas--soldiers--towards the maium pass--grass--threats--puzzled tibetans--the maium pass--obos. during the evening the tibetans came over to my camp and made themselves useful. they helped us to get fuel, and brewed tea for me in tibetan fashion. they seemed decent fellows, although sly if you like. they professed to hate the lamas, the rulers of the country, to whom they took special pleasure in applying names hardly repeatable in these pages. according to them, the lamas had all the money that came into the country, and no one but themselves was allowed to have any. they were not particular as to the means used to obtain their aim; they were cruel and unjust. every man in tibet, they said, was a soldier in case of emergency, and every one a servant of the lamas. the soldiers of the standing army received a certain quantity of _tsamba_, bricks of tea and butter, and that was all, no pay being given in cash. usually, however, they were given a pony to ride, and when on travelling duty they had a right to obtain relays of animals at post-stations and villages, where also they were entitled to claim supplies of food, saddles, or anything else they required, to last them as far as the next encampment. the weapons (sword and matchlock) generally belonged to the men themselves, and always remained in the family; but occasionally, and especially in the larger towns, such as lhassa and sigatz, the lamas provided them: gunpowder and bullets were invariably supplied by the authorities. the arms were manufactured mostly in lhassa and sigatz. although the tibetans boasted of great accuracy in shooting with their matchlocks, which had wooden rests to allow the marksman to take a steady aim, it was never my pleasure to see even the champion shots in the country hit the mark. it is true that, for sporting purposes and for economy's sake, the tibetan soldier hardly ever used lead bullets or shot, but preferred to fill his barrel with pebbles, which were scarcely calculated to improve the bore of the weapon. furthermore, gunpowder was so scarce that it was but very seldom they had a chance of practising. [illustration: flying prayers on the maium pass] at sunrise the view of gunkyo was magnificent, with the snow-covered mountains tinted gold and red, and reflected in their minutest details in the still waters of the lake. we loaded our yaks, the tibetans giving us a helping hand, and started towards the maium pass, following a general course of ° up the river, which throws itself into the gunkyo lake. [illustration: matchlock] the valley was very narrow, and ran in continuous zigzags; but although the altitude was great, there was abundance of grass, and the green was quite refreshing to the eyes, tired as we were of snow and reddish barren mountains and desert-like stretches of land. we came to a basin where, on the opposite bank of the stream, was a large tibetan camping-ground with a high wall of stones. behind it i could see smoke rising, which made me suspect that there were people concealed there. our tibetan friends asked what we were going to do, and begged me to stop there to talk and drink tea. i said i had had quite enough of both, and would proceed. "if you go on we will kill you," said one of the soldiers, getting into a temper, and taking advantage of our politeness towards him and his mates. "_nga samgi ganta indah_" ("if you please"), i answered with studied courtesy. "if you go another step, we will cut off your head, or you will have to cut off ours," cried two or three others, stretching their bare necks towards me. "_taptih middù_" ("i have not got a small knife"), i replied, quite seriously, and with assumed disappointment, twirling my hand in the air in tibetan fashion. the tibetans did not know what to make of me, and when i moved towards the pass, on which hundreds of flying prayers flapped in the wind, after politely bidding them good-bye with tongue out, and waving both my hands palms upwards in front of my forehead in the most approved tibetan style, they took off their caps and humbly saluted us by going down on their knees and putting their heads close to the ground. we crossed the plain, and slowly wended our way up the pass. near the top we came to a track, the highway from ladak to lhassa _viâ_ gartok, along the northern side of the rakstal, mansarowar and gunkyo lakes. on the pass itself were planted several poles connected by means of ropes, from which flying prayers waved gaily in the breeze. _obos_, or mounds of stones, had also been erected here. the slabs were usually white, and bore in many instances the inscription "_omne mani padme hun_." yak skulls and horns, as well as those of goats and sheep, were laid by the side of these obos, the same words being engraved on the bone and stained red with the blood of the animal killed. these sacrifices are offered by tibetans when crossing a high pass, especially if there is a lama close at hand to commemorate the event. the meat of the animal killed is eaten by the people present, and, if the party is a large one, dancing and singing follow the feast. as i have already remarked, these obos are found all over the country; they indicate the points marking the passes or summits of hills, and no tibetan ever goes by one of them without depositing on it a white stone to appease the possible wrath of their god. chapter lx the maium pass--into the yutzang province--its capital--the doktol province--orders disregarded--the sources of the brahmaputra--change in the climate--the valley of the brahmaputra--running risks. the maium pass ( , feet), to which from where i started no englishman had ever penetrated, is a great landmark in tibet, for not only does one of the sources of the great tsangpu, or brahmaputra river, rise on its s.e. slopes, but it also separates the immense provinces of nari-khorsum (extending west of the maium pass and comprising the mountainous and lacustrine region as far as ladak) from the yutzang, the central province of tibet, stretching east of the pass along the valley of the brahmaputra and having lhassa for its capital. the word _yu_ in tibetan means "middle," and it is applied to this province, as it occupies the centre of tibet. to the north of the maium lies the doktol province. i had taken a reconnoitring trip to another pass to the n.e. of us, and had just returned to my men on the maium pass, when several of the tibetan soldiers we had left behind rode up towards us. we waited for them, and their leader, pointing at the valley beyond the pass, cried: "that yonder is the lhassa territory and we forbid you to enter it." i took no notice of his protest, and driving before me the two yaks i stepped into the most sacred of all the sacred provinces, "the ground of god." we descended quickly on the eastern side of the pass, while the soldiers, aghast, remained watching us from above, themselves a most picturesque sight as they stood among the obos against the sky-line, with the sunlight shining on their jewelled swords and the gay red flags of their matchlocks, while over their heads strings of flying prayers waved in the wind. having watched us for a little while, they disappeared. [illustration: source of the brahmaputra] a little rivulet, hardly six inches wide, descended among stones in the centre of the valley we were following, and was soon swollen by other rivulets from melting snows on the mountains to either side. this was one source[ ] of the great brahmaputra, one of the largest rivers of the world. i must confess that i felt somewhat proud to be the first european who had ever reached these sources, and there was a certain childish delight in standing over this sacred stream which, of such immense width lower down, could here be spanned by a man standing with legs slightly apart. we drank of its waters at the spot where it had its birth, and then, following a marked track to ° (b.m.), we continued our descent on a gentle incline along a grassy valley. the change in the climate between the west and south-east sides of the maium pass was extraordinary. on the western side we had nothing but violent storms of hail, rain and snow, the dampness in the air rendering the atmosphere cold even during the day. the soil was unusually marshy, and very little fuel or grass could be found. the moment the pass was crossed we were in a mild, pleasant climate, with a lovely deep blue sky over us and plenty of grass for the yaks, as well as low shrubs for our fires; so that, after all our sufferings and privations, we felt that we had indeed entered the land of god. notwithstanding that i expected great trouble sooner or later, i was not at all sorry i had disobeyed the soldiers' orders and had marched straight into the forbidden territory--it was a kind of wild satisfaction at doing that which is forbidden. the brahmaputra received three small snow-fed tributaries descending rapidly from the steep mountains on either side of us; and where the main stream turned sharply to °, a fourth and important tributary, carrying a very large volume of water, came down to it through a gorge from ° (b.m.). we encamped near the junction of these rivers, on the right bank of the main stream, at an altitude of , feet. from the maium pass a continuation of the gangri chain of mountains runs first in a south-easterly direction, then due east, taking a line almost parallel to the higher southern range of the himahlyas, and forming a vast plain intersected by the brahmaputra. on the southern side of the river can be seen minor hill ranges between the river course and the big range with its majestic snowy peaks and beautiful glaciers. this northern range keeps an almost parallel line to the greater range southward; and, though no peaks of very considerable elevation are to be found along it, yet it is of geographical importance, as its southern slopes form the northern watershed of the holy river as far as lhassa. the valley enclosed between these two parallel ranges is the most thickly populated valley in tibet. grass is abundant, and fuel easily obtainable, and therefore thousands of yaks, sheep, and goats can be seen grazing near the many tibetan camps along the brahmaputra and its principal tributaries. the trade route taken by the caravans from ladak to lhassa follows this valley; and, as i came to tibet to see and study the tibetans, i thought that, although i might run greater risks, i could in no part of the country accomplish my object better than by going along this thickly populated track. [ ] i passed the other source on the return journey. chapter lxi expecting trouble--along the brahmaputra--a thunderstorm--a dilemma--a dangerous river--swamped--saved--night disturbers--a new friend. we slept very little, as we expected the soldiers to attack us during the night to try and stop our progress, but all was quiet and nothing happened; our yaks, however, managed to get loose, and we had some difficulty in recovering them in the morning, for they had swum across the stream, and had gone about a mile from camp on the other side. the night had been very cold, the thermometer dropping as low as ½°. we did not pitch our little tent, in case of emergencies, and we were tired and cold after the long march of the previous day. there was a south-westerly breeze blowing and i found it hard to have to cross the river, chase the yaks and bring them back to camp. then, exhausted as we were, we had in addition to go through the daily routine of loading them. we followed the right bank of the stream to bearings ° (m.), then to ° ' (b.m.), where it wound in and out between barren hills, subsequently flowing through a grassy valley three-quarters of a mile wide and a mile and a half long. it then went through a narrow passage to ° ' (b.m.) and turned to ° and farther to ° through an undulating grassy valley two miles wide, in crossing which we were caught in a terrific thunderstorm, with hail and rain. this was indeed an annoying experience, for we were now before a very large tributary of the brahmaputra, and the stream was so swollen, rapid and deep that i was much puzzled as to how to take my men across: they could not swim, and the water was so cold that a dip in it would give any one a severe shock. however, there was no time to be lost, for the river was visibly rising, and as the storm was getting worse, difficulties would only increase every moment. we took off every stitch of clothing and fastened our garments, with our rifles, &c., on the pack-saddles of the yaks, which we sent into the water. they are good swimmers, and though the current carried them over a hundred yards down stream, we saw them with satisfaction scramble out of the water on to the opposite bank. notwithstanding the faith that chanden sing and mansing had in my swimming, they really thought that their last hour had come when i took each by the hand and asked them to follow me into the stream. hardly had we gone twelve yards when the inevitable took place. we were all three swept away, and chanden sing and mansing in their panic clung tight to my arms and dragged me under water. though i swam my hardest with my legs, we continually came to the surface and then sank again, owing to the dead weight of my helpless mates. but at last, after a desperate struggle, the current washed us on to the opposite side, where we found our feet, and were soon able to scramble out of the treacherous river. we were some two hundred yards down stream from the spot at which we had entered the river, and such was the quantity of muddy water we had swallowed that we all three became sick. this left us much exhausted, and, as the storm showed no signs of abating, we encamped ( , feet) there and then on the left bank of the stream. though we sadly needed some warm food, there was, of course, no possibility of lighting a fire. a piece of chocolate was all i had that night, and my men preferred to eat nothing rather than break their caste by eating my food. [illustration: tibetan dog] [illustration: small mani wall] we were asleep under our little tent, the hour being about eleven, when there was a noise outside as of voices and people stumbling against stones. i was out in a moment with my rifle, and shouted the usual "_paladò_" ("go away"), in answer to which, though i could see nothing owing to the darkness, i heard several stones flung from slings whizzing past me. one of these hit the tent, and a dog barked furiously. i fired a shot in the air, which had the good effect of producing a hasty retreat of our enemies, whoever they were. the dog, however, would not go. he remained outside barking all night, and it was only in the morning, when i gave him some food and caressed him in tibetan fashion, with the usual words of endearment, "_chochu, chochu_," that our four-footed foe became friendly, rubbing himself against my legs as if he had known me all his life, and taking a particular fancy to mansing, by whose side he lay down. from that day he never left our camp, and followed us everywhere, until harder times came upon us. chapter lxii leaving the course of the river--a pass--an arid plain--more vanishing soldiers--another river--a _mani_ wall--_mirage?_--a large tibetan encampment--the chain of mountains north of us. the river was turning too much towards the south, so i decided to abandon it and strike across country, especially as there were faint signs of a track leading over a pass to ° (b.m.) from camp. i followed this track, and along it i distinguished marks of hundreds of ponies' hoofs, now almost entirely washed away. this was evidently the way taken by the soldiers we had encountered on the other side of the maium pass. having risen over the col , feet, we saw before us an extensive valley with barren hills scattered over it. to the south we observed a large plain some ten miles wide, with snowy peaks rising on the farther side. in front was a hill projecting into the plain, on which stood a _mani_ wall; and this latter discovery made me feel quite confident that i was on the high road to lhassa. about eight miles off to the nnw. were high snowy peaks, and as we went farther we found a lofty mountain range, with still higher peaks, three miles behind it. we had travelled half-way across the waterless plain, when we noticed a number of soldiers' heads and matchlocks popping in and out from behind a distant hill. after a while they came out in numbers to observe our movements, then retired again behind the hill. we proceeded, but when we were still half a mile from them they abandoned their hiding-place, and galloped away before us, raising clouds of dust. from a hill , feet, over which the track crossed, we perceived a group of very high snowy peaks about eight miles distant. between them and us stood a range of hills cut by a valley, along which flowed a river carrying a large volume of water. this we followed to ° (b.m.), and having found a suitable fording-place, we crossed over at a spot where the stream was twenty-five yards across, and the water reached up to our waists. we found here another _mani_ wall with large inscriptions on stones, and as the wind was very high and cutting, we made use of it to shelter us. within the angle comprised between bearings ° and ° (b.m.) we could observe a very high, snowy mountain range in the distance (the great himahlyan chain), and lower hill ranges even as near as three miles from camp. the river we had just crossed flowed into the brahmaputra, and we were now at an elevation of , feet. we saw plainly at sunset a number of black tents before us at bearings °; we calculated them to be two miles distant. we counted about sixty, as well as hundreds of black yaks. [illustration: an effect of mirage] at sunrise the next morning, much to our surprise, they had all vanished; nor, on marching in the direction where we had seen them the previous night, were we able to find traces of them. it seemed as if it must have been _mirage_. eventually, however, some fourteen miles away, across a grassy plain bounded to the north-east by the range extending from north-west to south-east, and with lofty snowy peaks at ° some five miles off, we came upon a very large tibetan encampment of over eighty black tents at an altitude of , feet. they were pitched on the banks of another tributary of the brahmaputra, which, after describing a great curve in the plain, passed west of the encampment. five miles off, in the arc of circle described from ° to ° (b.m.), stood the chain of mountains which i had observed all along; but here the elevations of its peaks became gradually lower and lower, so much so that the name of "hill range" would be more appropriate to it than that of "mountain chain." behind it, however, towered loftier peaks again with their snowy caps. chapter lxiii a commotion--an invitation declined--the tents--delicacies--the _chokseh_. we wanted food, and so made boldly for the encampment. our approach caused a great commotion, and yaks and sheep were hastily driven away before us, while men and women rushed in and out of their tents, apparently in a state of much excitement. eight or ten men reluctantly came forward and entreated us to go inside a large tent. they said they wished to speak to us, and offered us tea. i would not accept their invitation, distrusting them, but went on across the encampment, halting some three hundred yards beyond it. chanden sing and i proceeded afterwards on a round of calls at all the tents, trying to purchase food and also to show that, if we had declined to enter a particular tent, it was not on account of fear, but because we did not want to be caught in a trap. our visit to the different _golingchos_ or _gurr_ (tents) was interesting enough. the tents themselves were very cleverly constructed, and admirably adapted to the country in which they were used; and the various articles of furniture inside attracted my curiosity. the tents, black in colour, were woven of yaks' hair, the natural greasiness of which made them quite waterproof. they consisted of two separate pieces of this thick material, supported by two poles at each end, and there was an oblong aperture above in the upper part of the tent, through which the smoke could escape. the base of the larger tents was hexagonal in shape: the roof, generally at a height of six or seven feet above the ground, was kept very tightly stretched by means of long ropes passing over high poles and pegged to the ground. wooden and iron pegs were used for this purpose, and many were required to keep the tent close to the ground all round, so as to protect its inmates from the cutting winds of the great plateau. long poles, as a rule numbering four, with white flying prayers, could be seen outside each tent, or one to each point of the compass, the east being taken for a starting-point. around the interior of the larger tents there was a mud wall from two to three feet high, for the purpose of further protection against wind, rain and snow. these walls were sometimes constructed of dried dung, which, as time went on, was used for fuel. there were two apertures, one at either end of the tent; that facing the wind being always kept closed by means of loops and wooden bolts. [illustration: black tent] the tibetan is a born nomad, and shifts his dwelling with the seasons, or wherever he can find pasture for his yaks and sheep; but, though he has no fixed abode, he knows how to make himself comfortable, and he carries with him all that he requires. thus, for instance, in the centre of his tent, he begins by making himself a _goling_, or fireplace of mud and stone, some three feet high and four or five long, by one and a half wide, with two, three, or more side ventilators and draught-holes. by this ingenious contrivance he manages to increase the combustion of the dried dung, the most trying fuel from which to get a flame. on the top of this stove a suitable place is made to fit the several _raksangs_, or large brass pots and bowls, in which the brick tea, having been duly pounded in a stone or wooden mortar, is boiled and stirred with a long brass spoon. a portable iron stand is generally to be seen somewhere in the tent, upon which the hot vessels are placed, as they are removed from the fire. close to these is the _toxzum_ or _dongbo_, a cylindrical wooden churn, with a lid through which a piston passes. this is used for mixing the tea with butter and salt, in the way i have described as also adopted by the jogpas. [illustration: a dongbo or tea churn] the wooden cups or bowls used by the tibetans are called _puku, fruh_, or _cariel_, and in them _tsamba_ is also eaten after tea has been poured on it, and the mixture worked into a paste by means of more or less dirty fingers. often extra lumps of butter are mixed with this paste, and even bits of _chura_ (cheese). the richer people (officials) indulge in flour and rice, which they import from india and china, and in _kassur_, or dried fruit (namely, dates and apricots) of inferior quality. the rice is boiled into a kind of soup called the _tukpa_, a great luxury only indulged in on grand occasions, when such other cherished delicacies as _gimakara_ (sugar) and _shelkara_ (lump white sugar) are also eaten. the tibetans are very fond of meat, though few can afford such an extravagance. wild game, yak and sheep are considered excellent food, and the meat and bone cut in pieces are boiled in a cauldron with lavish quantities of salt and pepper. the several people in a tent dip their hands into the pot, and having picked up suitable pieces, tug at them with their teeth and fingers, grinding even the bone, meat eaten without bone being supposed to be difficult to digest. the tibetan tents are usually furnished with a few _tildih_ (rough sitting-mats) round the fireplace, and near the entrance of the tent stands a _dahlo_, or basket, in which the dung is stored as collected. these _dahlos_, used in couples, are very convenient for tying to pack-saddles, for which purpose they are specially designed. along the walls of the tent are the _tsamgo_ or bags of _tsamba_, and the _dongmo_ or butter-pots, and among masses of sheepskins and blankets can be seen the little wooden chests in which the store of butter is kept under lock and key. [illustration: the interior of a tent] the first thing that strikes the eye on entering a tibetan tent is the _chokseh_ or table, upon which are lights and brass bowls containing offerings to the _chogan_, the gilt god to whom the occupiers of the _gurr_ (tent) address their morning and evening prayers. prayer-wheels and strings of beads are plentiful, and lashed upright to the poles are the long matchlocks belonging to the men, their tall props projecting well out of the aperture in the roof of the tent. spears are kept in a similar manner, but the swords and smaller knives are carried about the person all day, and laid on the ground by the side of their owners at night. [illustration: tsamgo] [illustration: small tsamba bag, carried on the person by tibetans] chapter lxiv refusal to sell food--women--their looks and characteristics--the _tchukti_--a lhassa lady. the inhabitants of this encampment were polite and talkative. notwithstanding their refusal to sell us food on the plea that they had none even for themselves, their friendliness was so much beyond my expectation that i at first feared treachery. however, treachery or not, i thought that while i was there i had better see and learn as much as i could. women and men formed a ring round us, and the fair sex seemed less shy than the stronger in answering questions. i was particularly struck, not only in this encampment but in all the others, by the small number of women to be seen in tibet. this is not because they are kept in seclusion; on the contrary, the ladies of the forbidden land seem to have it all their own way. they are actually in an enormous minority, the proportion being, at a rough guess, backed by the wise words of a friendly lama, from fifteen to twenty males to each female in the population; nevertheless, the fair sex in hundes manages to rule the male majority, playing thereby constantly into the hands of the lamas. the tibetan female, whether she be a lady, a shepherdess, or a brigandess, cannot be said to be prepossessing. in fact, it was not my luck to see a single good-looking woman in the country, although i naturally saw women who were less ugly than others. anyhow, with the accumulated filth that from birth is undisturbed by soap, scrubbing or bathing; with nose, cheeks and forehead smeared with black ointment to prevent the skin cracking in the wind; and with the unpleasant odour that emanates from never-changed clothes, the tibetan woman is, at her best, repulsive to european taste. after one has overcome one's first disgust she yet has, at a distance, a certain charm of her own. she walks well, for she is accustomed to carry heavy weights on her head; and her skull would be well-set on her shoulders were it not that the neck is usually too short and thick to be graceful. her body and limbs possess great muscular strength and are well developed, but generally lack stability, and her breasts are flabby and pendent--facts due, no doubt, to sexual abuse. she is generally of heavy frame, and rather inclined to stoutness. her hands and feet show power and rude strength, but no dexterity or suppleness is noticeable in her fingers, and she has therefore no ability for very fine or delicate work. [illustration: tibetan hair brushes and flint and steel pouch] the tibetan woman is, nevertheless, far superior to the tibetan man. she possesses a better heart, more pluck, and a finer character than he does. time after time, when the males, timid beyond all conception, ran away at our approach, the women remained in charge of the tents, and, although by no means cool or collected, they very rarely failed to meet us without some show of dignity. [illustration: tibetan women and children] on the present occasion, when all were friendly, the women seemed much less shy than the men, and conversed freely and incessantly. they even prevailed upon their masters to sell us a little _tsamba_ and butter. tibetan women wear trousers and boots like the men, and over them they have a long gown, either yellow or blue, reaching down to their feet. their head-dress is curious, the hair being carefully parted in the middle, and plastered with melted butter over the scalp as far down as the ears; then it is plaited all round in innumerable little tresses, to which is fastened the _tchukti_, three strips of heavy red and blue cloth joined together by cross bands ornamented with coral and malachite beads, silver coins and bells, and reaching from the shoulders down to the heels. [illustration: the tchukti] they seemed very proud of this ornamentation, and displayed much coquetry in attracting our notice to it. wealthier women in tibet have quite a small fortune hanging down their backs, for all the money or valuables earned or saved are sewn on to the _tchukti_. to the lower end of the _tchukti_ one, two or three rows of small brass or silver bells are attached, and therefore the approach of the tibetan dames is announced by the tinkling of their bells, a quaint custom, the origin of which they could not explain to me, beyond saying that it was pretty and that they liked it. [illustration: a lady from lhassa] the illustration that i give here of a travelling tibetan lady from lhassa was taken at tucker. she wore her hair, of abnormal length and beauty, in one huge tress, and round her head, like an aureole, was a circular wooden ornament, on the outer part of which were fastened beads of coral, glass and malachite. the arrangement was so heavy that, though it fitted the head well, it had to be supported by means of strings tied to the hair and others passed over the head. by the side of her head, and hanging by the ears and hair, were a pair of huge silver earrings inlaid with malachite, and round her neck three long strings of beads with silver brooches. considerable modifications necessarily occurred in these garments and ornaments, according to the locality and the wearer's condition in life, but the general lines of their clothing were practically everywhere the same. often a loose silver chain belt was worn considerably below the waist, and rings and bracelets were common everywhere. [illustration: money bags] chapter lxv polyandry--marriage ceremonies--jealousy--divorce--identification of children--courtship--illegitimacy--adultery. that the tibetans legally recognise polyandry and polygamy is well known. very little, however, has hitherto transpired as to the actual form of these marital customs, so that the details which follow, startling as they may seem when regarded from a western standpoint, will be found not without interest. first of all, i may say that there is not such a thing known in tibet as a standard of morality amongst unmarried women of the middle classes; and, therefore, from a tibetan point of view, it is not easy to find an immoral woman. notwithstanding this apparently irregular state of affairs, the women's behaviour is better than might be expected. like the shoka girls, they possess a wonderful frankness and simplicity of manner, with a certain reserve which has its allurements; for the tibetan swain, often a young man, being attracted by the charms of a damsel, finds that his flirtation with her has become an accepted engagement almost before it has begun, and is compelled, in accordance with custom, to go, accompanied by his father and mother, to the tent of the lady of his heart. there he is received by her relations, who have been previously notified of the intended call, and are found seated on rugs and mats awaiting the arrival of their guests. after the usual courtesies and salutations, the young man's father asks, on behalf of his son, for the young lady's hand; and, if the answer is favourable, the suitor places a square lump of yak _murr_ (yak butter) on his betrothed's forehead. she does the same for him, and the marriage ceremony is then considered over, the buttered couple being man and wife. if there is a temple close by, _katas_, food and money are laid before the images of buddha and saints, and the parties walk round the inside of the temple. should there be no temple at hand, the husband and wife make the circuit of the nearest hill, or, in default of anything else, the tent itself, always moving from left to right. this ceremony is repeated with prayers and sacrifices every day for a fortnight, during which time libations of wine and general feasting continue, and at the expiration of which the husband conveys his better half to his tent. the law of tibet, though hardly ever obeyed, has strict clauses regulating the conduct of married men in their marital relations. so long as the sun is above the horizon, no intercourse is permitted; and certain periods and seasons of the year, such as the height of summer and the depth of winter, are also proscribed. [illustration: woman whose face is smeared with black ointment] a tibetan girl on marrying does not enter into a nuptial tie with an individual but with all his family, in the following somewhat complicated manner. if an eldest son marries an eldest sister, all the sisters of the bride become his wives. should he, however, begin by marrying the second sister, then only the sisters from the second down will be his property. if the third, all from the third, and so on. at the same time, when the bridegroom has brothers, they are all regarded as their brother's wife's husbands, and they one and all cohabit with her, as well as with her sisters if she has any. the system is not simple, and certainly not very edifying, and were it not for the odd _savoir faire_ of the tibetan woman, it would lead to endless jealousies and unpleasantness: owing, however, largely, no doubt, to the absolute lack of honour or decency in tibetan males and females, the arrangement seems to work as satisfactorily as any other kind of marriage. i asked what would happen in the case of a man marrying a second sister, and so acquiring marital rights over all her younger sisters, if another man came and married her eldest sister. would all the brides of the first man become the brides of the second? no, they would not; and the second man would have to be satisfied with only one wife. however, if the second sister were left a widow, and her husband had no brothers, then she would become the property of her eldest sister's husband, and with her all the other sisters. [illustration: tibetan woman] it must not be inferred from these strange matrimonial laws that jealousy is non-existent in tibet among both men and women; trouble does occasionally arise in tibetan house- or tent-holds. as, however, the tibetan woman is clever, she generally contrives to arrange things in a manner conducive to peace. when her husband has several brothers, she despatches them on different errands in every direction, to look after yaks or sheep, or to trade. only one remains and he is for the time being her husband; then when another returns he has to leave his place and becomes a bachelor, and so on, till all the brothers have, during the year, had an equal period of marital life with their single wife. divorce is difficult in tibet and involves endless complications. i inquired of a tibetan lady what would she do in case her husband refused to live with her any longer. [illustration: the lady in question] "'why did you marry me?' i would say to him," she exclaimed. "'you found me good, beautiful, wise, clever, affectionate. now prove that i am not all this!'" this modest speech, she thought, would be quite sufficient to bring any husband back to reason, but all the same a number of tibetans find it convenient occasionally to desert their wives, eloping to some distant province, or over the boundary. this procedure is particularly hard on the man's brothers, as they all remain the sole property of the abandoned bride. on the same principle, when a husband dies, the wife is inherited by his brothers. [illustration: tibetan children] a very painful case came before the court of the jong pen at taklakot. the husband of a tibetan lady had died, and she, being enamoured of a handsome youth some twenty years younger than herself, married him. her husband's brother, however, came all the way from lhassa after her and claimed her as his wife, though he had already a better half and a large family. she would not hear of leaving the husband of her choice, and after endless scenes between them, the case was heard by the jong pen of taklakot. the tibetan law was against her, as, according to it, she decidedly belonged to her brother-in-law; but money is stronger than the law in the land of the lamas. "for the peace of all, you can arrange things this way," was the advice of the jong pen. "you can divide your property, money and goods, into three equal parts: one to go to the lamas, one to your husband's brother, and one to be retained by yourself." the woman consented; but, much to her disgust, when two parts had been paid out and she was hoping for peace, a question was raised by the jong pen as to why she should even retain one-third of the fortune if she no longer made part of the deceased man's family? thus orders were instantly given that she should be deprived of everything she possessed. however, the woman was shrewd enough to deceive the jong pen's officers, for one night, having bundled up her tent and her goods and chattels, she quietly stepped over the boundary and placed herself under british protection. the mode of knowing and identifying children in tibet is peculiar. it is not by the child's likeness to his parent, nor by other reasonable methods, that the offspring is set down as belonging to one man more than to another, but this is the mode adopted. supposing that one married man had two brothers and several children, the first child belongs to him; the second to his first brother, and the third to his second brother, while the fourth would be again the first man's child. the rules of courtship are not very strict in tibet, yet intercourse with girls is looked upon as illegal, and in certain cases not only are the parties, if discovered, made to suffer shame, but certain fines are inflicted on the man, the most severe of all being that he must present the young lady with a dress and ornaments. in the case of "gentlefolks" the question is generally solved to the satisfaction of everybody by the man marrying the woman, and by his gracefully presenting "veils of friendship" to all her relations and friends, together with articles of food; but if by mischance she should be placed in an awkward position before the eyes of the world, and the man will not hear of a matrimonial union, then efforts are made to prevent the birth of the child alive. if these are not successful, the mother must be maintained until after the child's birth. in such cases the illegitimate child remains the man's, and suffers the usual indignities of illegitimacy. sixteen in the case of women, and eighteen or nineteen in that of men, is regarded as the marriageable age. motherhood continues until a fairly advanced age, and i have seen a woman of forty with a baby only a few months old. but, as a rule, tibetan women lose their freshness while still quite young; and no doubt their custom of polyandry not only contributes to destroy their looks but also is the chief cause that limits the population of tibet. the lamas are supposed to live in celibacy, but they do not always keep to their oath, tempted, no doubt, by the fact that they themselves invariably go unpunished. if, on the other hand, in cases of adultery, the culprit be a layman, he has to pay compensation according to his means to the husband, the amount being fixed by the parties concerned and their friends, or by the law if applied for. in ordinary cases of marital trespass, presents of clothing, _tsamba, chura, guram, kassur_ (dried fruit) and wine, accompanied by the never-lacking _kata_, are sufficient to allay the injured husband's anger and to fully compensate him for any shame suffered. the only serious punishment inflicted is, however, in the case of the wife of a high official eloping with a man of low rank. then the woman is subjected to flogging as a penalty for her infidelity, her husband is disgraced, and her lover, after being subjected to a painful surgical operation, is, if he survives, expelled from the town or encampment. high officials, and a few wealthy people who are not satisfied with one wife, are allowed by the law of the land to keep as many concubines as their means allow them. chapter lxvi tibetan funerals--disposal of their dead--by cremation--by water--cannibalism--strange beliefs--revolting barbarity--drinking human blood--the saints of tibet. tibetan funerals are interesting, but they so closely resemble those of the shokas, which i have described at length, that any detailed account of them would be a mere repetition of what i have already written. [illustration: a young lama] for the disposal of the dead body itself, however, the tibetans have curious customs of their own. the most uncommon method, owing to the great scarcity of fuel, is that of cremation, which is only employed in the case of wealthy people or lamas, and is effected in exactly the same fashion as among the shokas. another and more usual plan is to double up the body, sew it into skins, and let it be carried away by the current of a stream. but the commonest method of all is the revolting ceremony which i now proceed to describe. [illustration: a red lama] the body of the deceased is borne to the top of a hill, where the lamas pronounce certain incantations and prayers. then the crowd, after walking seven times round the body, retire to a certain distance, to allow ravens and dogs to tear the corpse to pieces. it is considered lucky for the departed and his family when birds alone devour the greater portion of the body; dogs and wild animals come, say the lamas, when the deceased has sinned during his life. anyhow, the almost complete destruction of the corpse is anxiously watched, and, at an opportune moment, the lamas and crowd, turning their praying-wheels, and muttering the everlasting "_omne mani padme hun_," return to the body, round which seven more circuits are made, moving from left to right.[ ] then the relatives squat round. the lamas sit near the body, and with their daggers cut to pieces what remains of the flesh. the highest lama present eats the first morsel, then, muttering prayers, the other lamas partake of it, after which all the relations and friends throw themselves on the now almost denuded skeleton, scraping off pieces of flesh, which they devour greedily; and this repast of human flesh continues till the bones are dry and clean! [illustration: cup made of human skull] the idea of this ghastly ceremony is that the spirit of the departed, of whom you have swallowed a piece, will for ever keep on friendly terms with you. when birds and dogs do not shrink from feeding, it is a sign that the body is healthy, and fit for themselves. [illustration: chokden, or tomb of a saint] revolting beyond words is the further fact that, when a man has died of some pestilential disease, and, owing to the odour, the birds will not peck at the body, nor will the famished dogs go near it, then a large number of lamas, having made the usual exorcisms, sit down by it, and do not get up again until they have devoured the whole of the rotten human flesh! the relatives and friends are wiser and less brutal. they rightly believe that, if voracious animals will not partake of the meal proffered them, it is because the body is that of a sinner against whom god is angry. and who better than the lamas could make peace between god and him? so let the lamas eat it all. in the case of not finding sufficient lamas to perform these rites, the body is either disposed of by throwing it into the water, or else, the relations having first partaken of a morsel of the flesh, it is bound to a rock to let animals or time do the rest. the lamas are said to have a great craving for human blood, which, they say, gives them strength, genius and vigour. when sucking wounds that are not poisoned, they drink the blood, and also on certain occasions wounds are inflicted for the sake of sucking the blood. at other times the cups cut from human skulls, found in all monasteries, are filled with blood, and the lamas in turn satisfy their thirst out of them. but enough of this. it is sickening to set it down, though my book would be incomplete if i had made no mention of the cannibalism of the lamas. when a saintly lama dies, or some old man much respected by the community, either parts of the flesh, or, if cremation has been applied, some of his ashes, are preserved and placed in a _chokden_ erected for the purpose; and, judging by the number of these structures one finds all over tibet, one feels inclined to think that half the population of the country must have been saints, or else that the standard of saintliness in the sacred land of the lamas is not prohibitively high. [ ] in the case of a sect called bombos, the circuits are made in the reverse fashion, as also are their prayer-wheels turned from right to left. chapter lxvii another commotion--two hundred soldiers--a stampede--easy travelling--a long _mani_ wall--mosquitoes. coming out of our tent in the morning, we noticed an unusual commotion among the tibetans. a number of mounted men with matchlocks had arrived, and others similarly armed immediately went to join them from the tents. they seemed excited, and i kept my eye upon them while i was cooking my food. there were some two hundred in all, picturesquely garbed. they seemed to be good horsemen, and looked well as they rode in a line towards us. a little way off they stopped and dismounted, and the leaders came forward, one stalwart fellow in a fine sheepskin coat marching ahead of the rest. his attitude was very arrogant, and, dispensing with the usual salutations, he approached quite close, shaking his fist at me. "_kiu mahla lokhna nga rah luck tiba tangan_" ("i will give you a goat or a sheep if you will go back"), he said. "_kiu donna nga di tangon_" ("and i give you this to make you go back!") was my quick answer, while i unexpectedly administered him one straight from the shoulder that sent him flat on his back and sprawling on the ground. the army, which, with its usual prudence, was watching events from a respectful distance, beat a hasty retreat. the officer, though unhurt, scrambled away, screaming. the tibetans had so far behaved with such contemptible cowardice that we could hardly congratulate ourselves on such easy successes. we began to feel that really we had no enemy at all before us, and very likely we became even careless. anyhow, we ate our food and gave this affair but little thought. [illustration: a mani wall on the road to lhassa] the tibetans kept their distance, and did not trouble us again that day. those who had not ridden off retired timidly inside their black tents, and not a soul was to be seen about the encampment--which might have been deserted, so silent and so empty did it appear. i registered my daily observations, made a sketch of one of the black tents, and wrote up my diary; after which we raised camp. [illustration: "and i give you this to make you go back"] our progress was now comparatively easy, along a broad grassy plain, and we proceeded without further disturbance in a south-easterly direction, observing a high snowy peak at ° (b.m.), and a low pass in the mountain range to our north-east at ° (b.m.). a very high range stood ahead of us in the far distance, with low hills between. in going round one of these lonely hills we found at the foot of it another and more important _mani_ wall of some length, with numberless inscriptions of all ages and sizes on stones, pieces of bone, skulls and horns. farther on, to the south, there were three smaller hillocks and two larger ones. the soldiers we had routed at the encampment had proceeded in the direction we were now following, and we were, in fact, treading all along on the footprints of their ponies. we had to cross a river and a number of rivulets, and so troublesome was it each time to take off one's shoes and clothes to wade through, that we bundled up our clothes on the yaks, and travelled along for the rest of the afternoon bare-footed and with nothing on but a _doti_ (loin-cloth), in the style adopted by fakirs. in an arc of a circle from ° to ° (b.m.) we noticed very low hills, and from ° to °, some thirty or forty miles off, could be seen much more clearly now the high range we had observed before. the sun was extremely hot, the ground marshy, the air being thick with huge and very troublesome mosquitoes. we were quickly covered from head to foot with bites, and the irritation caused by them was intense. halting on the right bank of a large stream at , feet, we named this spot mosquito camp. at sunset the number of mosquitoes around us was such as to drive us nearly mad, but fortunately, the moment the sun disappeared, the thermometer fell to °, and we had a peaceful night. in the evening we saw a number of horsemen riding full speed on a course about one mile south of ours, but converging to the same direction. no doubt they were sent to keep the authorities ahead well informed of our movements. chapter lxviii washing-day--a long march--_kiang_ and antelope--benighted--the purchase of a goat--ramifications of the brahmaputra--a détour--through a swamp--mansing again lost and found. the next was for us a great washing-day. the water of the stream was so pleasant and clear that we could not resist the temptation of having a regular cleaning up, washing first our clothing and spreading it to dry in the sun, and then cleansing our faces and bodies thoroughly with soap, a luxury unknown to us for ever so long. while i was drying myself in the sun--owing to the want of towels--i registered at ° (b.m.) a very high snowy peak, and a lower one at ° ' forming part of the chain before us. there were mountains on every side of the plain we were traversing; and another very elevated peak, of which i had taken bearings on a previous occasion, was at ° (b.m.). a break occurred in the hill range to our north-east, showing a narrow valley, beyond which were high snowy mountains. we made a very long march along the grassy plain, going to ° (b.m.), and encamped on the bank of the brahmaputra, here already a wide, deep and very rapid stream. we had passed hundreds of _kiang_ and antelopes, and shortly before sunset i took a walk to the hills to try and bring some fresh meat to camp. i stalked a herd of antelopes, and having gone some five miles from camp, i was benighted, and on my return had the greatest difficulty in finding my men in the darkness. they had been unable to light a fire, and as they had both gone fast asleep, i received no answer to my calls. we had selected a sheltered depression in the ground for our camp, and there being hundreds of similar spots everywhere round it, and no landmarks to go by, it was by no means easy to identify the exact place. fortunately, at last, after i had shouted for some considerable time, chanden sing heard me, and, by the sound of his voice, i found my way back. in the morning we noticed a large encampment about a mile off on the opposite bank of the brahmaputra, where we might have obtained provisions, but the stream was too rapid for us to cross; moreover, we saw black tents in every direction on our side of the water, and therefore there was no reason to go to the extra trouble and danger of crossing the stream. [illustration: kiang] much to our delight, we succeeded in purchasing a goat from some passing tibetans, who drove before them a flock of several thousand heads, and, as we could not find sufficient dry fuel to make a fire, we entrusted mansing with the safe-conduct of the animal to our next camp, where we proposed to feast on it. the brahmaputra had here several ramifications mostly ending in lakelets, and rendering the plain a regular swamp. the larger branch was very wide and deep, and we preferred following it to crossing it, notwithstanding that we had to deviate somewhat from the course which i would have otherwise followed. we thus made a considerable _détour_, but even as it was, for several miles we sank in mud up to our knees, or waded through water, for although there were small patches of earth with tufts of grass which rose above the water, they collapsed on our attempting to stand upon them. the whole of the northern part of the plain was extremely marshy. our yaks gave us no end of trouble, for when they sank unexpectedly in soft mud-holes, they became restless and alarmed, and in their struggles to save themselves, once or twice shook off their pack-saddles and loads, which we had not been able to fasten properly for want of ropes. chanden sing and i, however, managed to keep up with them, and at last, on nearing the hills, the ground showed greater undulations and was rather drier. we saw columns of smoke rising from near the foot of the range to the north of us. we went on another couple of miles, exhausted and dirty, our clothes, which we had spent so much soap and time in washing, filthy with splashes of mud. [illustration: our yaks sinking in mud] "where are mansing and the _rabbu?_"[ ] i asked of my bearer. "he remained behind at the beginning of the swamp. he was too exhausted to drag along the goat you purchased." i was much concerned, on scouting the country all round from a hillock with my telescope, to see no signs of the poor fellow, and i was angry with myself for not noticing his disappearance before. as there were many tibetans about the spot where he had remained, i feared foul play on their part, and that he might have been overpowered. again i imagined that, weak as he was, he might have been sucked down in one of the deeper mud-holes, without a chance of saving himself. i left chanden sing to look after the yaks and turned back in search of him. as i hurried back mile after mile, struggling again half across the mud swamp, and yet saw no signs of the poor coolie, i was almost giving up my quest in despair, when my eye caught something moving about half a mile farther on. it was the goat all by itself. i made for it with a sinking heart. it was only on getting quite close to it that i perceived the poor coolie, lying flat and half sunk in the mud. he had fallen in a faint, and though he was still breathing, he was quite insensible. fortunately he had taken the precaution of tying the rope of the _rabbu_ tight round his arm, and thus not only was it owing to the animal that i had found his whereabouts, but i had also saved our precious acquisition. with some rubbing and shaking i brought the poor fellow back to life, and supported him by the arm until we rejoined chanden sing. not till the middle of the night did we reach tarbar, a large tibetan encampment at the foot of the hill range. [ ] the tibetans have three distinct kinds of goats: the _rabbu_, or large woolly animal, such as the one i had purchased; the _ratton_, or small goat; and the _chitbu_, a dwarf goat whose flesh is delicious eating. the _rabbu_ and _ratton_ are the two kinds generally used for carrying loads, and they have sufficient strength to bear a weight not exceeding lbs. for a distance of from five to eight miles daily over fairly good ground. chapter lxix the alarm given--our bad manners--a peaceful settlement--a large river--gigantic peak--again on marshy soil. the alarm of our arrival, given first by scores of dogs barking at us, then by one of the natives who had ventured to leave his tent to find out the cause of the disturbance, created the usual panic in the place. "_gigri duk! gigri duk! jogpa, jogpa!_" ("danger, danger; help, brigands!") cried the tibetan, running frantically out of his tent; and a few seconds later, black figures could be seen everywhere, rushing in and out of their tents in a state of confusion. it must be remembered that, according to the manners of tibet, one should time one's arrival at an encampment so as to reach it before sundown, unless notice of one's approach is sent ahead. people who arrive unexpectedly in the middle of the night are never credited with good motives, and their appearance is associated with all sorts of evil intentions, murder, robbery or extortion. i tried to set the minds of the good folk at ease, by stating that i meant no harm; but such was their excitement and confusion that i could get no one to listen to me. two old women came to us with a bucket of milk and laid it at my feet, entreating me to spare their lives; and great was their astonishment when, instead of finding themselves murdered, they received a silver rupee in payment. this was the first step towards a peaceful settlement of the disturbance. after some time, calm was restored and, though still regarded with considerable suspicion, we were politely treated by the natives. unfortunately, here too we were unable to purchase provisions, the natives declaring that they had not sufficient for themselves. so, having feasted on the _rabbu_ which we killed, and on yak's milk, we made preparations to strike camp early next morning. at night the thermometer fell to °, and the cold was very great; but we purchased a quantity of dung from the natives and made a fine fire in the morning; and, having had a good meal after several days' privations, we felt happier than usual. the natives begged as ever, showing their unrestrained craving for money, to get which they would lower themselves to anything. [illustration: carpenter and saddle-maker] north-west of the encampment, through a gorge, flowed a wide river which skirted the foot of the mountains. it was snow-fed, for in the evening the current was strong and deep, whereas early in the morning the level of the water was several feet lower, being, however, even then hardly fordable. on leaving tarbar, we followed for a while the course of the river, and, the day being glorious, we were able to admire fully the magnificent panorama of the great rugged mountain-range to our south-west. the higher peaks were nearly all of a pyramidical shape, and at ° ' (b.m.) i observed a gigantic quadrangular peak which i took to be mount everest. next to it, at ° ' (b.m.), is a pyramidical peak, very lofty, but not to be compared in height or beauty to its neighbour. i followed a general course towards ° (b.m.), and as the river, which we had more or less followed, now described a big bend towards the s.s.e., i decided to cross it. we waded through it successfully with water up to our necks, and again we found ourselves upon marshy land, with a repetition of the previous day's experience. [illustration: old woman] farther on, we crossed three more tributaries of the larger stream, all fairly wide and deep; and then we had once more to get across the main river, now of such depth and rapidity as to cause us much trouble and no small danger. the river traverses the plain in zigzag fashion, and, unless we wanted to follow its banks, and so lengthen the journey by double or treble the distance, this was the only course open to us. thus, while trying to travel in a straight line, we found ourselves for the third time confronted by this great river, now swollen by other snow-fed streams, and carrying an immense body of water. it was in the afternoon, too, when the water was at its highest. we attempted a crossing at several points, but found it impossible; so i made up my mind to wait for low water early next morning. chapter lxx another tibetan encampment--uncontrollable animals--a big stream--washed away--in dreadful suspense--rescuing the yak--diving at great altitudes and its effects--how my two followers got across--a precarious outlook and a little comfort. [illustration: contrivance for carrying loads] apparently my yaks knew this part of the country well; and i noticed that, whenever i lost the track, all i had to do was to follow them, and they would bring me back to it again. even when i drove them away from the track, they showed a great disinclination to move, whereas they proceeded willingly enough while we were on the high road, which, mark you, is no road at all, for no track is visible except here and there, where the footprints of the last nomads with their sheep, ponies and yaks have destroyed the grass. half a mile on the other side of the river was an encampment of some fifty or sixty tents, with hundreds of yaks and sheep grazing near it. at this point my two yaks, which i noticed had been marching with more than usual smartness, bolted while i was ordering chanden sing and mansing to take down the loads, and went straight into the water. in attempting to make them turn back, mansing threw a stone at them, which, however, only sent them on all the faster. the current was so strong, and the bottom of the river so soft, that they both sank, and when they reappeared on the surface it was only to float rapidly away down stream. we watched them with ever-increasing anxiety, for they seemed quite helpless. we ran panting along the river bank, urging them on with shouts to drive them to the other side. alas, in their desperate struggle to keep afloat, and powerless against the current, the two yaks collided violently in mid-stream, and the bump caused the pack-saddle and loads of the smaller yak to turn over. the animal, thus overbalanced and hampered, sank and reappeared two or three times, struggling for air and life. it was, indeed, a terrible moment. i threw off my clothes and jumped into the water. i swam fast to the animal, and, with no small exertion, pulled him on shore, some two hundred yards farther down the stream. we were both safe, though breathless, but, alas! the ropes that held the baggage had given way, and saddle and loads had disappeared. this loss was a dreadful blow to us. i tried hard, by repeatedly diving into the river, until i was almost frozen, to recover my goods, but failed to find them or even to locate them. where i suspected them to be the water was over twenty feet deep, and the bottom of the river was of soft mud; so that the weight of the loads would have caused them to sink and be covered over with it. [illustration: rescuing a yak] diving at such very great elevations gave one a peculiar and unpleasant sensation. the moment i was entirely under water, i felt as if i were compressed under an appalling weight which seemed to crush me. had the liquid above and around me been a mass of lead instead of water, it could not have felt heavier. the sensation was especially noticeable in my head, which felt as if my skull were being screwed into a vice. the beating at my temples was so strong that, though in ordinary circumstances i can remain under water for over a minute, i could there never bold out for longer than fifteen or twenty seconds. each time that i emerged from below, gasping for air, my heart beat alarmingly hard, and my lungs seemed as if about to burst. i was so exhausted that i did not feel equal to conveying across my two men, so i unloaded the stronger yak, and then, with endless fatigue, i drove him and his mate again into the water. unhampered, and good swimmers as they are, they floated away with the current and reached the other side. chanden sing and mansing, with their clothes and mine tied into a bundle over their shoulders, got on the animals and, after a somewhat anxious passage, they arrived safely on my side, where we camped, my men mourning all night over the lost property. the next morning i made fresh attempts to recover the loads, but in vain! unhappily they contained all my tinned provisions, and what little other food i had, and they had in them besides eight hundred rupees in silver, the greater part of my ammunition, changes of clothing and three pairs of shoes, my copper hurricane lantern, and sundry knives and razors. the only thing we recovered was the pack-saddle, which was washed ashore some six hundred yards farther down. our situation can be summed up in a few words. we were now in the centre of tibet, with no food of any kind, no clothes to speak of, and no boots or shoes, except those we wore, which were falling to pieces. what little ammunition i had left could not be relied upon, owing to its having been in the water on several occasions; and round us we had nothing but enemies--insignificant enemies if you like, yet enemies for all that. i got what comfort i could out of the knowledge that at least the water-tight cases with my scientific instruments, notes, sketches and maps were saved, and as far as i was concerned, i valued them more than anything else i possessed. chapter lxxi hungry and worn--a sense of humour--two buckets of milk--no food to be obtained--chanden sing and mansing in a wretched state--their fidelity--exhaustion. we went on, hungry, worn out, with our feet lacerated, cheering one another as best we could. we laughed at our troubles; we laughed at the tibetans and their comical ways; we laughed at everything and everybody, until eventually we even laughed at ourselves. when you are hungry, the sun seems slow at describing its daily semicircle from east to west; yet though involuntary fasting gives you at first an acute pain in the stomach, it doesn't become unbearable until after several days' absolute want of food; that is to say, if you are in a way accustomed, as we were, to extra long intervals between one meal and the next. when we got to our third day's fasting we were keen enough for a meal; and, perceiving some black tents close by the mountain side, about four miles out of our course, we made for them with hungry haste. we purchased two bucketsful of yaks' milk, one of which i drank there and then myself, the second being equally divided between my two servants. that was all we could get. they would sell us absolutely nothing else. after this we moved forward again, making steady, and, if one allows for the great elevation we were at, comparatively rapid progress; noting down everything, and holding our own against all comers. we encountered pleasant people, and some unpleasant ones, but, whether their manner was courteous or the reverse, we could nowhere obtain food for love or money. poor mansing and chanden sing, not having the same interest that i had in my work to keep up their spirits, were now in a dreadful condition. cold, tired and starved, the poor wretches had hardly strength left to stand on their feet, the soles of which were badly cut and very sore. it really made my heart bleed to see these two brave fellows suffer as they did for my sake; and yet no word of complaint came from them; not once did their lips utter a reproach. [illustration: drinking out of a bucket] "never, mind if we suffer or even die," said the poor fellows, when i expressed my sympathy with them, "we will follow you as long as we have strength to move, and we will stand by you, no matter what happens." i had to relieve chanden sing of his rifle, as he was no longer able to carry it. i myself, too, felt languid and exhausted as the days went by, and we got scarcely any food. i cannot say that i experienced any very severe physical pain. this was due, i think, to the fact that my exhaustion brought on fever. i had, nevertheless, a peculiar feeling in my head, as if my intellect, never too bright, had now been altogether dulled. my hearing, too, became less acute; and i felt my strength slowly dying down like the flame of a lamp with no more oil in it. the nervous excitement and strain alone kept me alive, and i went on walking mechanically. [illustration: shrine inside tent] chapter lxxii eighty black tents--starved--kindly natives--presents--ando and his promises--a friendly lama--a low pass--my plans. we reached an encampment of some eighty black tents and a mud guard-house. we were positively in a starved condition and it was utterly impossible to proceed farther, owing to the wretched condition of my two men. they begged to be given ponies to ride, for their feet were so sore that, notwithstanding their anxiety to follow me, they could not. the natives received us very kindly, and, on my applying for them, consented to sell me ponies, clothes and provisions. we encamped about two miles beyond the settlement, and during the evening several persons visited my tent, bringing gifts of flour, butter and _tsamba_, accompanied by _katas_, the veils of friendship. i made a point of invariably giving the tibetans, in return for their gifts, silver money to an amount three or four times greater than the value of the articles they presented us with, and they professed to be very grateful for it. a man called ando, who styled himself a gourkha, but wore the garb of the tibetans, came to visit us in our tent, and promised to bring for sale several ponies the next morning. he also undertook to sell me a sufficient quantity of food to enable us to reach lhassa, and, to show his good faith, brought a portion of the supplies in the evening, and said he would let us have the remainder the next morning. we next had a visit from a lama, who appeared both civil and intelligent, and who presented us with some butter and _chura_ (cheese). he had travelled in india, he told us, as far as calcutta, and was on his way from gartok to lhassa, where he expected to arrive in four or five days, having an excellent pony. other lamas and men who came to see us stated that they had come from lhassa in that time, and i do not think that they can have been far wrong, as the whole distance from the lippu pass on the frontier (near garbyang) to lhassa can on horseback be covered in sixteen days. [illustration: mud guard-house] the natives, as usual, showed great reticence in letting out the name of the encampment, some calling it toxem, others taddju. north of us was a low pass in the hill range, and having already seen as much as i wanted of the tibetans, it was my intention, if i succeeded in purchasing provisions and ponies, to cross over this pass and proceed towards the sacred city, following a course on the northern side of the mountain range. besides, the highway to lhassa was getting so thickly populated that i thought it advisable to travel through less inhabited regions. i intended proceeding, dressed as a european, until within a few miles of lhassa. then i would leave my two men concealed in some secluded spot, and assuming a disguise, i would penetrate alone during the night into the city. this would have been easy enough, as lhassa has no gates, and only a ruined wall round it. i succeeded in purchasing some clothing and boots from the tibetans, and the pigtail that i needed to make me pass for a tibetan i intended to make myself, out of the silky hair of my yaks. to avoid betraying myself by my inability to speak tibetan fluently, i thought of pretending to be deaf and dumb. a good meal brought hope and high spirits, and when i retired to sleep i saw myself already inside the sacred walls. [illustration: tibetan bellows] chapter lxxiii strange noises--ando the traitor--purchasing provisions and ponies--a handsome pony--decoyed away from my tent and rifles--pounced upon--the fight--a prisoner. [illustration: a distaff] during the night i was aroused several times by noises, and i went out of my tent to look for the disturbers, but failed to discover any one. this had become my nightly experience, and i attached very little importance to these sounds. in the morning, ando and two or three tibetans came to sell us provisions and ponies, and, while my two servants and i were engaged in purchasing what we required, i saw a number of villagers coming up in groups. some spun their wool, others carried bags of _tsamba_ and flour, while others still arrived leading a number of fine ponies. having purchased provisions to last us a couple of months, we now began the selection of mounts, and naturally my servants and myself were overjoyed at our unexpected piece of luck in finding ourselves, after untold sufferings and privations of all kinds, confronted with abundance of everything we could possibly desire. the demeanour of the tibetans was so friendly, and they seemed so guileless, that i never thought of suspecting them. chanden sing and mansing, who at bottom were sportsmen of the very first order, delighted at the prospect of getting animals, rode first one pony and then another to suit themselves; and chanden sing, having selected a handsome beast for his own use, called me to try it and examine it before paying over the purchase-money. unsuspecting of foul play, and also because it would not be convenient to try the various lively ponies with my rifle slung over my shoulder, i walked unarmed to the spot, about a hundred yards away from my tent, where the restless animal was being held for my inspection. the natives followed behind me, but such a thing being common in any country when one buys a horse in public, i thought nothing of it. as i stood with my hands behind my back, i well recollect the expression of delight on chanden sing's face when i approved of his choice, and, as is generally the case on such occasions, the crowd behind in a chorus expressed their gratuitous opinion on the superiority of the steed selected. i had just stooped to look at the pony's fore-legs, when i was suddenly seized from behind by several persons, who grabbed me by the neck, wrists, and legs, and threw me down on my face. i struggled and fought until i shook off some of my assailants and regained my feet; but others rushed up, and i was surrounded by some thirty men, who attacked me from every side, and clinging to me with all their might succeeded in grabbing my arms, legs and head. weak as i was, they knocked me down three more times, and three more times i regained my feet. i fought to the bitter end with my fists, feet, head and teeth each time that i got one hand or leg free from their clutches, hitting right and left at any part where i could disable my opponents. their timidity, even when in such overwhelming numbers, was indeed beyond description; and it was entirely due to it, and not to my strength (for i had hardly any), that i was able to hold my own against them for some twenty minutes. my clothes were torn in the fight. long ropes were thrown at me from every side, and i became so entangled in them that my movements were impeded. one rope which they flung and successfully twisted round my neck completed their victory. they pulled hard at it from the two ends, and while i panted and gasped with the exertion of fighting, they tugged and tugged to strangle me, till i felt as if my eyes would shoot out of their sockets. i was suffocating. my sight became dim, and i was in their power. dragged down to the ground, they stamped, and kicked, and trampled upon me with their heavy nailed boots, until i was stunned. then they tied my wrists tightly behind my back; they bound my elbows, my chest, my neck and my ankles. i was a prisoner! [illustration: purchasing ponies] [illustration: i was a prisoner] [illustration: rope riding-whip] chapter lxxiv chanden sing's plucky resistance--mansing secured--a signal--a treacherous lama--confiscation of baggage--watches, compasses and aneroids--fear and avidity--the air-cushion--dragged into the encampment. [illustration: earring worn by high officials] they lifted me and made me stand up. the brave chanden sing had been struggling with all his might against fifteen or twenty foes, and had disabled several of them. he had been pounced upon at the same moment as i was, and had fought gallantly until, like myself, he had been entangled, thrown down and secured by ropes. during my struggle, i heard him call out repeatedly: "_banduk, banduk, mansing; jaldi, banduk!_" ("rifle, rifle, mansing; quick, my rifle!") but, alas, poor mansing the leper, the weak and jaded coolie, had been sprung upon by four powerful tibetans, who held him pinned to the ground as if he had been the fiercest of bandits. mansing was a philosopher. he had saved himself the trouble of even offering any resistance; but he too, was ill-treated, beaten and tightly bound. at the beginning of the fight a shrill whistle had brought up four hundred[ ] armed soldiers who had lain in ambush round us, concealed behind the innumerable sandhills and in the depressions in the ground. they took up a position round us and covered us with their matchlocks. [illustration: dragged into the settlement] all was now over, and, bound like a dangerous criminal, i looked round to see what had become of my men. when i realised that it took the tibetans five hundred men[ ] all counted to arrest a starved englishman and his two half-dying servants, and that, even then, they dared not do it openly, but had to resort to abject treachery; when i found that these soldiers were picked troops from lhassa and sigatz (shigatze), despatched on purpose to arrest our progress and capture us, i could not restrain a smile of contempt for those into whose hands we had at last fallen. [illustration: a spear] my blood boiled when, upon the order of the lama, who the previous night had professed to be our friend, several men advanced and searched our pockets. they rifled us of everything we possessed, and began overhauling our baggage. the watches and chronometer were looked upon with suspicion, their ticking causing anxiety and curiosity. they were passed round and round and mercilessly thrown about from one person to the other, until they stopped. they were then pronounced "dead." the compasses and aneroids, which they could not distinguish from watches, were soon thrown aside, as "they had no life in them," but great caution was displayed in touching our rifles, which were lying on our bedding when the tent had been torn down. great fears were entertained lest they should go off by themselves; and it was only on my assurance (which made our captors ten times more cautious) that they were not loaded, that at last they took them and registered them in the catalogue of our confiscated property. i had upon me a gold ring that my mother had given me when i was a child. i asked permission to retain it, and with their superstitious nature they immediately thought that it had occult powers, like the wands one reads of in fairy tales. a man called nerba, who later on played an important part in our sufferings, was entrusted with it, and warned never to let me see it again. as we three prisoners sat bound and held down by guards it was heartbreaking to see the lamas and officers handle all our things so roughly as to spoil nearly all they touched; but particularly disgusting was their avidity when, in searching the pockets of the coat i wore daily, and which i had not put on that morning, they found a quantity of silver coins, some eight hundred rupees in all. officers, lamas and soldiers made a grab for the money, and when order was re-established, only a few coins remained where the sum had been laid down. other moneys which they found in one of our loads met with a similar fate. among the things arousing greatest curiosity was an india-rubber pillow fully blown out. the soft, smooth texture of the india-rubber seemed to catch their fancy, and one after the other they rubbed their cheeks on the cushion, exclaiming at the pleasant sensation it gave them. however, in playing with the brass screw by which the cushion was inflated, they gave it a turn, and the imprisoned air found its way out with a hissing noise. this created quite a panic among the tibetans, and many were the conjectures of their superstitious minds as to the meaning of the strange contrivance. they regarded it as an evil omen, and naturally i took advantage of any small incident of this kind to work judiciously on their superstitions and frighten them as much as i could. [illustration: tibetans overhauling our baggage] the tibetans, having examined all except my water-tight cases of instruments, photographic plates and sketches, seemed so upset at one or two things that happened, and at some remarks i made, that they hurriedly sealed up all my property in bags and blankets, and ordered the things to be placed on yaks and brought into the guard-house of the settlement. this done, they tied the end of the ropes that bound our necks to the pommels of their saddles, and, having loosed our feet, they sprang on their ponies and rode off, with shouts, hisses and cries of victory, firing their matchlocks in the air, and dragging us prisoners into the settlement. [ ] the lamas stated afterwards that this was the number. [ ] counting lamas, villagers and soldiers. chapter lxxv a warning to my men--calm and coolness--the pombo's tent--chanden sing cross-examined and flogged. on reaching the settlement, my last words to my men before we were separated were, "no matter what they do to you, do not let them see that you suffer," and they promised to obey me. we were then conveyed to different tents. i was dragged to one of the larger tents, inside and outside of which soldiers were placed on guard. those near me were at first sulky, and rough in their manner and speech, but i always made a point of answering them in as collected and polite a fashion as i could. i had on many previous occasions found that nothing carries one further in dealings with asiatics than to keep calm and cool, and i saw in a moment that, if we were ever to get out of our present scrape, it would be by maintaining a perfectly impassive demeanour in face of anything that might take place. whether i acted my part well it is not for me to say, but the reader can satisfy himself on that point by perusing the government inquiry and report made by mr. j. larkin, and given in the appendix to this book. the tent being kept closed, i was unable to discover what happened outside, but from the noises i heard of people rushing hither and thither, and of shouted orders, besides the continuous tinkling of the soldiers' horse-bells as they galloped past the tent, i concluded that the place must be in a state of turmoil. i had been some three hours in the tent, when a soldier entered and ordered me out. "they are going to cut off his head," said he to his comrades; and, turning round to me, he made a significant gesture with his hand across his neck. "_nikutza_" ("all right"), said i drily. it must not be forgotten that, when a tibetan himself hears words of this import, he usually goes down on his knees and implores to be spared, with tears, and sobs, and prayers in profusion. so it is not surprising that the tibetans were somewhat astonished at my answer, and seemed puzzled as to what to make of it. anyhow, the first ardour of the messenger was sensibly cooled down, and i was led out with more reluctance than firmness. [illustration: the pombo's tent] during the time i had been shut up, a huge white tent with blue ornaments had been pitched in front of the mud-house, and round it were hundreds of soldiers and villagers--a most picturesque sight. as i was led nearer, i perceived that the front of the tent was wide open, and inside stood a great number of red lamas, with shaven heads, in their long woollen tunics. the soldiers stopped me when i was about twenty yards from the tent. additional ropes were added to those already cutting into my wrists, elbows and chest, and the others made tighter. i perceived chanden sing led forward, and then, instead of taking me before the lamas, they pushed me to the rear of the solitary mud-house to preclude my witnessing the scene that followed. i heard chanden sing being interrogated in a loud angry tone of voice, and accused of having been my guide. next i heard wild shouts from the crowd, then a dead silence. a few instants later i distinguished the snapping noise of a lash, followed by hoarse moans from my poor bearer, to whom they were evidently applying it. i counted the strokes, the sickening noise of which is still well impressed on my memory, as they regularly and steadily fell one after the other to twenty, to thirty, forty, and fifty. then there was a pause. chapter lxxvi led before the tribunal--the pombo--classical tibetan beyond me--chanden sing lashed--the lamas puzzled--a sudden change in the pombo's attitude. a number of soldiers now came for me, and i was first led, then pushed violently before the tribunal. on a high seat in the centre of the tent sat a man wearing ample trousers of gaudy yellow and a short yellow coat with flowing sleeves. on his head he had a huge four-pointed hat gilt all over, and with three great eyes painted on it. he was young-looking, and his head was clean shaven, as he was a lama of the highest order, a grand lama and a _pombo_, or governor of the province, with powers equivalent to those of a feudal king. on his right stood a stout and powerful red lama who held a huge double-handed sword, and behind, and at the sides, were a number of other lamas, officers and soldiers. as i stood silent, and with my head held high before him, two or three lamas rushed at me and ordered me to kneel. they tried to compel me to do so, by forcing me on my knees, but i succeeded in maintaining an upright posture. the pombo, who was furious at my declining to kneel before him, addressed me in words that sounded violent; but, as he spoke classical tibetan, and i only the colloquial language, i could not understand a word of what he said, and i meekly asked him not to use such fine words, as they were unintelligible to me. [illustration: chanden sing being lashed] the great man was taken aback at this unheard-of request; and, with a frown on his face, he pointed to me to look to my left. the soldiers and lamas drew aside, and i beheld chanden sing lying flat on his face, stripped from the waist downwards, in front of a row of lamas and military men. two powerful lamas, one on each side of him, began again to castigate him with knotted leather thongs weighted with lead, laying on their strokes with vigorous arms from his waist to his feet. he was bleeding all over. each time that a lash fell on his wounded skin it felt as if a dagger had been stuck into my chest; but i knew orientals too well to show any pity for the man, as this would have only involved a more severe punishment for him. so i looked on at his torture as one would upon a thing of everyday occurrence. the lamas nearer to me shook their fists under my nose, and explained that my turn would come next, whereupon i smiled and repeated the usual "_nikutza, nikutza_" ("very good, very good"). [illustration: the pombo] the pombo and his officers were at a loss what to make of me, as i could plainly see by their faces; so that the more i perceived how well my plan was answering, the more courage i screwed up to play my part to the best of my ability. the pombo, an effeminate, juvenile, handsome person, almost hysterical in manner, and likely to make a splendid subject for hypnotic experiments (i had reason to think, indeed, that he had already often been under mesmeric influence), remained with his eyes fixed upon mine as if in a trance for certainly over two minutes. there was a wonderful and sudden change in the man, and his voice, arrogant and angry a few moments before, was now soft and apparently kindly. the lamas around him were evidently concerned at seeing their lord and master transformed from a foaming fury to the quietest of lambs. they seized me and brought me out of his sight to the spot where chanden sing was being chastised. here again i could not be compelled to kneel, so at last i was allowed to squat down before the pombo's officers. chapter lxxvii my note-books and maps--what the lamas wanted me to say--my refusal--anger and threats--ando, the traitor--chanden sing's heroism--a scene of cruelty--rain. the two lamas, leaving chanden sing, produced my note-books and maps, and proceeded to interrogate me closely, saying that, if i spoke the truth, i should be spared, otherwise i should be flogged and then beheaded. [illustration: a soldier] i answered that i would speak the truth, whether they punished me or not. one of the lamas, a great big brute, who was dressed up in a gaudy red silk coat, with gold embroidery at the collar, and who had taken part in the flogging of chanden sing, told me i must say "that my servant had shown me the road across tibet, and that he had done the maps and sketches." if i would say this, they were willing to release me and have me conveyed back to the frontier, promising to do me no further harm. they would cut my servant's head off, that was all, but no personal injury should be inflicted on me. i explained clearly to the lamas that i alone was responsible for the maps and sketches, and for finding my way so far inland. i repeated several times, slowly and distinctly, that my servant was innocent, and that therefore there was no reason to punish him. he had only obeyed my orders in following me to tibet, and i alone, not my two servants, was to be punished if anybody was punishable. the lamas were angry at this, and one of them struck me violently on the head with the butt-end of his riding-crop. i pretended not to notice it, though it made my scalp ache and smart. [illustration: soldier with pigtail wound round his head] "then we shall beat you and your man until you say what we want," the lama exclaimed angrily. "you can beat us if you like," i replied with assurance, "but if you punish us unjustly it will go against yourselves. you can tear our skin off, and you can make us bleed to death, but you cannot make us feel pain." ando, the traitor, who spoke hindustani fluently, acted as interpreter whenever there was a hitch in our tibetan conversation, and with what i knew of the language, and with this man's help, everything was explained to the tibetans as clearly as possible. notwithstanding this, they continued mercilessly to lash my poor servant, who, in his agony, was biting the ground as each blow fell on him and tore away patches of skin and flesh. chanden sing behaved heroically. not a word of complaint, nor a prayer for mercy, came from his lips. he said that he had spoken the truth and had nothing more to say. watched intently by all the lamas and soldiers, i sat with affected stoicism before this scene of cruelty, until, angry at my phlegm, order was given to the soldiers that i should be dragged away. again they led me behind the mud-house, from where i could distinctly hear the angry cries of the lamas cross-examining chanden sing, and those dreadful sounds of the lash still being administered. it began to rain heavily, and this was a bit of luck for us, for in tibet, as in china, a shower has a great effect upon the people, and even massacres have been known to be put a stop to until the rain should cease. such was the case that day. the moment the first drops fell, the soldiers and lamas rushed here, there, and everywhere inside the tents, and i was hastily dragged to the most distant tent of the settlement, which became packed with the guards into whose charge i had been given. [illustration: an officer] chapter lxxviii a high military officer--a likely friend--a soldier and not a lama--his sympathy--facts about the tibetan army. [illustration: purse] an officer of high rank was sitting cross-legged at the farther end of the tent. he wore a handsome dark red gown trimmed with gold and leopard skin, and was shod with tall black and red leather boots of chinese shape. a beautiful sword with solid silver sheath inlaid with large pieces of coral and malachite was passed through his belt. [illustration: flint and steel] this man, apparently between fifty and sixty years of age, had an intelligent, refined, honest, good-natured face; and somehow or other i felt from the very first moment i saw him that he would be a friend. and, indeed, whereas the soldiers and lamas treated me with brutality and took every mean advantage that they could, this officer was alone in showing some deference to me and some appreciation of my behaviour. he made room by his side and signed that i might sit there. [illustration: snuff-box] "i am a soldier," said he in a dignified tone, "not a lama. i have come from lhassa with my men to arrest you, and you are now our prisoner. but you have shown no fear, and i respect you." so saying, he inclined his head and laid his forehead touching mine, and pulled out his tongue. then he made a gesture signifying that, though he wished to, he could not then say more, owing to the presence of the soldiers. later on we entered into a most amicable conversation, in the course of which he said that he was a rupun (a grade below that of general). i tried to explain to him all about english soldiers and weapons, and he displayed the keenest interest in all i told him. in return he gave me interesting information about the soldiers of tibet. every man in tibet is considered a soldier in time of war or when required to do duty, but for the regular army all lads that are strong and healthy can enlist from the age of seventeen, those deformed or weakly being rejected as unfit for service. good horsemanship is one of the qualities most appreciated in the tibetan soldier, and, after that, unbounded obedience. the rupun swore by the tibetan matchlocks, which he believed to be the most serviceable weapons on earth; for, according to him, as long as you had powder enough, you could use anything as a missile. pebbles, earth, or nails did as good work as any lead bullet. [illustration: flint-and-steel pouch] he told me that large quantities of these weapons were manufactured at lhassa and sigatz (shigatze), and he stated that the majority of tibetan men outside the towns possess one. gunpowder was also made with saltpetre and sulphur found in the country. the rupun, seeing how quick i was at picking up words, took a special delight in teaching me, as one would a child, the names of the several grades in the tibetan army. the _tchu-pun_[ ] was the lowest grade, and only had ten men under him; then came the _kiatsamba-pun_ or _kia-pun_,[ ] or officer in command of one hundred soldiers; and the _tung-pun_,[ ] or head of one thousand. these officers, however, are seldom allowed the full complement of soldiers according to their grade, and very often the "commander of one thousand" has only under him three or four hundred men at the most. above the _tung-pun_ comes the _rupun_, a kind of adjutant-general; then the _dah-pun_, or great officer; and highest of all, the _mag-pun_ (or _mag-bun_, as it is usually pronounced), the general in chief. the acquaintance of one of these generals we had already made at gyanema. though my informant said that officers are elected for their bravery in time of war and for their strength and aptitude in the saddle and with their weapons, i knew well enough that such was not the case. the posts are mainly given to whoever can afford to pay most for them, and to men of families under special protection of the lamas. in many cases they are actually sold by auction. [illustration: leather horse-whip] the method described by the rupun was nevertheless what is popularly believed by the masses of tibet to be the way in which military officers are chosen. [ ] _tchu_, ten, _pun_, officer, or officer of ten men. [ ] _kiatsamba_ or _kia_ = one hundred. [ ] _tung_ = one thousand. chapter lxxix sarcasm appreciated--kindness--a change for the worse--the place for an englishman--vermin--a tibetan prayer. the rupun possessed a good deal of dry humour, and i told him how fast the tibetan soldiers had run away on previous occasions when i had met them and had my rifle by me. but he was quite equal to the situation and exclaimed: "yes, i know that they ran, but it was not through fear. it was because they did not wish to hurt you." upon which i answered that, if that were the case, they need not have run so fast. the rupun seemed amused and laughed at my sarcasm. he patted me on the back and said i was right. he professed to be grieved to see me tied up, and said he had received strict orders not to give me food or unloose my bonds. [illustration: charm-box] the soldiers, who had been listening open-mouthed to the affable and friendly conversation between the rupun and myself, a practice not common in tibet between captor and prisoner, followed their chief's example, and from being harsh and rough, turned quite kindly and respectful. they placed a cushion under me and tried to make me as comfortable as they could in the circumstances. towards the evening, however, the rupun was summoned before the pombo, and the guard was relieved by a fresh lot of men. this was a change for the worse. their manner was extremely rough, and they dragged me away from the dignified seat i had occupied in the place of honour in the tent, and knocked me violently down on a heap of dung which they used for fuel. "that is the place for _plenkis!_" shouted one of the men, "not in the best part of the tent." they pounced upon me roughly, and though i made no resistance whatever, they again tied my feet together, and another rope was fastened round my knees. the ends of these ropes were left long, and each was given in charge of a soldier. no part of a tibetan tent is over clean, but the spot where i was to rest for the night was the dirtiest. bound so tightly that the ropes cut channels in my flesh, it was out of the question to sleep; but tenfold worse than this was the disgusting fact that i soon got covered with vermin, which swarmed in the tent. from this time till the end of my captivity, or twenty-five days later, i suffered unspeakable tortures from this pest. the guards, with their swords drawn, were all round me inside the tent, and others were posted outside. the night was full of strange events. shouts could be heard at intervals from a distance outside, and some one of the guard in the tent answered them. they were to keep the men awake and make sure that i was still there. one of the soldiers in the tent revolved his prayer-wheel, muttering the following prayer so often that i learned it by heart: sangbo, sangbo yabni namla dupchenché yumni sala lockchendir lashin shukpi kani san pashin tagpe kani san yulo parba palui san tumlo parba wumboi san lassan lussan tamjeh san chedan kordan jindan san takpeh yeiki polloh san takpeh yonki molloh san tzurzu kaghi tablah san arah, banza, nattittí jehmi jangla changzalu. the almost literal translation of the words is this: oh, my god, i confess that my father has gone to heaven, but my mother is at present alive (_lit._ in the house). first my mother sinned and you took all men to heaven, then my mother and father sinned and i will go to heaven. if all other men and i sin, and we withdraw our sins, we are all liable to sin and the wumboo wood absolves (_lit._ washes all) from all sins. on the north-west (lassan) and south-east (lussan) are the two ways to heaven. i read the holy book and purify myself, my arm-bone[ ] is the sacred bone (_lit._ god's bone). and the sign of manhood my left arm. oh, my god, who art above my head, and at the sacred kujernath, banzah and nattittí i pray every day for health and wealth (silver and gold). [ ] the tibetans believe that in men the left, and in women the right, arm belongs to god. they regard it as sacred, because with this arm food is conveyed to the mouth, thus giving life to the body, and also because it is with the arms that one can defend oneself against one's enemies. the bone of the nose is also regarded as sacred. chapter lxxx the rupun as a friend--treated with respect and deference--fed by the rupun and soldiers--improving my knowledge of tibetan. [illustration: puku, or wooden cup] in the middle of the night the rupun returned. i noticed he seemed very much upset. he sat by my side, and by the light of the flickering fire and a wick burning in a brass bowl filled with butter, i could see in his face an expression of great anxiety. i felt, by the compassionate way in which he looked at me, that he had grave news to give me. i was not mistaken. he moved me from the pestilent place where i had been thrown down helpless by the soldiers, and laid me in a more comfortable and cleaner part of the tent. then he ordered a soldier to bring me a blanket. next, to my astonishment, he became very severe, and said he must examine my bonds. he turned quite angry, scolding the soldiers for leaving me so insecurely tied, and proceeded to make the knots firmer, a thing which i felt was impossible. though he pretended to use all his strength in doing this, i found, much to my amazement, that my bonds were really becoming loosened. he then quickly covered me up with the heavy blanket. [illustration: puku, or wooden cup] the soldiers were at the other end of the large tent, and seemed occupied with a loud argument over some paltry matter. the rupun, stooping low, and making pretence to tuck me in the blanket, whispered: "your head is to be cut off to-morrow. escape to-night. there are no soldiers outside." the good man was actually preparing everything for my flight. he put out the light, and came to sleep by my side. it would have been comparatively easy, when all the men had fallen asleep, to slip from under the tent and steal away. i had got my hands easily out of the ropes, and should have had no difficulty in undoing all my other bonds; but the thought that i should be leaving my two men at the mercy of the tibetans prevented my carrying the escape into effect. the rupun, having risen to see that the guard were asleep, lay down again close to me and murmured: "_nelon, nelon; palad[)o]_" ("they are asleep; go"). well meant and tempting as the offer was, i told him i must stay with my men. having my hands free, i managed to sleep a little during the night; and when the morning came i slipped my hands again inside the ropes. the rupun, who seemed much disappointed, tied the ropes round my wrists firmly again, and, though he appeared rather vexed at my not having availed myself of the chance of flight he had given me, he treated me with ever-increasing respect and deference. he even produced his _puku_ (wooden bowl), which he filled with steaming tea from the _raksang_,[ ] and lifted it up to my mouth for me to drink. on perceiving how thirsty and hungry i was, not only did this good man refill the cup time after time until my thirst was quenched, but he mixed with it _tsamba_, and lumps of butter, which he then stuffed into my mouth with his fingers. it was really touching to see how, moved to kindness, the soldiers imitated his example, and, one after the other, produced handfuls of _tsamba_ and _chura_, and deposited them in my mouth. their hands, it is true, were not over clean, but on such occasions it does not do to be too particular, and i was so hungry that the food they gave me seemed delicious. i had been for two nights and one day without food, and, what with the exertion of the fight and my various exciting experiences, my appetite was very keen. this great politeness, however, and the sympathy with which not only the rupun, but even the soldiers treated me now, made me suspect that my end was indeed near. i was grieved not to be able to obtain news of chanden sing and mansing; and the soldiers' reticence in answering questions regarding them made me fear that something awful had happened. nevertheless, though my gaolers were friendly, i did not betray any anxiety, but pretended to take all that came as a matter of course. i spent the first portion of the day in a lively conversation with the soldiers, partly to divert my thoughts and partly to improve my knowledge of tibetan. [ ] _raksang_, a vessel in which tea mixed with butter and salt is kept boiling over the fire. chapter lxxxi a bearer of bad news--marched off to the mud-house--mansing--insults and humiliations--iron handcuffs instead of ropes--the rupun's sympathy--no more hope--in the hands of the mob. early in the afternoon a soldier entered the tent, and striking me on the shoulder with his heavy hand, shouted: "_ohe!_" (this is a tibetan exclamation always used by the rougher classes when beginning a conversation. it corresponds to "look here.") "_ohe!_" repeated he; "before the sun goes down you will be flogged, both your legs will be broken,[ ] they will burn out your eyes, and then they will cut off your head!" the man, who seemed quite in earnest, accompanied each sentence with an appropriate gesture illustrating his words. i laughed at him and affected to treat the whole thing as a joke, partly because i thought this was the best way to frighten them and prevent them from using violence, and partly because the programme thus laid before me seemed so extensive that i thought it could only be intended to intimidate me. however, the words of the soldier cast a gloom over my friendly guard in the tent, and when i tried to cheer them up, they answered bluntly that i would not laugh for very long. something was certainly happening, for the men rushed in and out of the tent, and whispered among themselves. when i spoke to them they would answer no more, and on my insisting, they made signs that their lips must from now be closed. about half an hour later, another person rushed into the tent in a great state of excitement, and signalled to my guards to lead me out. this they did, after making my bonds tighter than ever, and placing extra ropes round my chest and arms. in this fashion i was marched off to the mud-house and led into one of the rooms. a large number of soldiers and villagers assembled outside, and after we had waited some time, mansing, tightly bound, was brought into the same room. my pleasure at seeing my man again was so great, that i forgot all about what was happening, and paid no attention to the insults of the mob peeping through the door. after a while a lama came in with a smiling face and said he had good news to give me. "we have ponies here," he said, "and we are going to take you back to the frontier, but the pombo wishes to see you first to-day. do not make any resistance. let us exchange the ropes round your wrists for these iron handcuffs." [illustration: soldier laying before me the programme of tortures] here he produced a heavy pair of them, which he had kept concealed under his coat. "you will not wear them for more than a few moments while we are leading you to his presence. then you will be free. we swear to you by the sun and kunjuk-sum that we will treat you kindly." i promised not to resist, chiefly because i had no chance of doing so. for greater safety they tied my legs and placed a sliding knot round my neck; then i was carried out into the open, where a ring of soldiers with drawn swords stood round me. while i lay flat on my face on the ground, held down firmly, they unwound the ropes from around my wrists, and the iron fetters, joined by a heavy chain, were substituted for them. they took some time in fastening the clumsy padlock, after which, all being ready, they unbound my legs. they made me stand up again, and knowing that i could not possibly get my hands free, they began to load me with insults and offensive terms, not directed to me as an individual, but as a _plenki_, an englishman. they spat upon me and threw mud at me. the lamas behaved worse than any of the others, and the one who had sworn that i should be in no way ill-used if i would submit quietly to be handcuffed was the most prominent among my tormentors and the keenest in urging the crowd on to further brutality. [illustration: my handcuffs] suddenly the attention of the crowd was drawn to the approach of the rupun with a number of soldiers and officers. he seemed depressed, and his face was of a ghastly yellowish tint. he kept his eyes fixed on the ground, and, speaking very low, ordered that i should again be conveyed inside the mud-house. a few moments later he came in and closed the door after him, having first cleared the room of all the people who were in it. as i have mentioned before, tibetan structures of this kind have a square aperture in the ceiling by which they are ventilated and lighted. the rupun laid his forehead upon mine in sign of compassion, and then sadly shook his head. "there is no more hope," he whispered; "your head will be cut off to-night. the lamas are bad and my heart is aching. you are like my brother, and i am grieved...." the good old man tried not to let me see his emotion, and made signs that he could stay no longer, lest he should be accused of being my friend. the mob again entered the room, and i was once more dragged out into the open by the lamas and soldiers. some discussion followed as to who should keep the key of my handcuffs, and eventually it was handed over to one of the officers, who mounted his pony and rode away at a great rate in the direction of lhassa. [illustration: padlock and key] [ ] a form of torture in which, after placing the legs upon two parallel logs of wood, a heavy blow is given with a mallet, fracturing both legs. chapter lxxxii a pitiful scene--a struggle to get to chanden sing--brutally treated--a torturing saddle--across country at a gallop--a spirited pony--sand deposits and hills--speculation--more horsemen coming towards us. just then i heard the voice of my servant chanden sing calling to me in a weak agonised tone: "_hazur, hazur, hum murgiaega!_" ("sir, sir, i am dying!") and, turning my head in the direction from which these painful sounds came, i perceived my faithful bearer with his hands bound behind his back, dragging himself on his stomach towards the door of one of the other rooms of the mud-house. his poor face was hardly recognisable, it bore the traces of such awful suffering. i could stand no more. pushing my guards aside with my shoulders, i endeavoured to get to the poor wretch, and had nearly reached him when the soldiers who stood by sprang upon me, grappling me, and lifting me bodily off my feet. they threw me on the back of a pony. though i now feared the worst, i tried to encourage my brave servant by shouting to him that i was being taken to taklakot, and that he would be brought after me the following day. he had exhausted his last atom of strength in creeping to the door. he was roughly seized, and brutally hurled back into the room of the mud-house, so that we could not exchange a word more. mansing, the coolie, was placed, with his arms pinioned, on a bare-backed pony. the saddle of the pony i had been thrown upon is worthy of description. it was in reality the wooden frame of a very high-backed saddle, from the back of which some five or six sharp iron spikes stuck out horizontally. as i sat on this implement of torture, the spikes caught me in the small of my back. my guard having been augmented by twenty or thirty mounted men with muskets and swords, we set off at a furious pace. a horseman riding in front of me led my pony by means of a cord, as my hands were manacled behind my back; and thus we travelled across country for miles. [illustration: "sir, sir, i am dying"] but for those awful spikes in the saddle, the ride would not have been so very bad, for the pony i rode was a fine spirited animal, and the country around was curious and interesting. we proceeded along an apparently endless succession of yellow sandhills, some of them as high as two or three hundred feet, others not more than twenty or thirty. the sand seemed to have been deposited more by wind than by water, though it is also possible that the whole basin, not very high above the level of the huge stream, may at some time have been altogether under water. the whole space between the mountain-range to the north of the brahmaputra and the river itself was covered with these sand mounds, except in certain places where the soil was extremely marshy, and where our ponies sank in deep soft mud. we splashed across several rivulets and skirted a number of ponds. from the summit of a hill to which they led me, i could see that the hills were of much greater circumference and height near the river edge, becoming smaller and smaller as they approached the mountain-range to the north. moreover, they increased in number and size the farther we went in an easterly direction. [illustration: spiked saddle] the circumstances under which i was now travelling did not permit me to ascertain the quality of the sand, or make any accurate investigations as to where the sand came from, but a glance at the country all round made me feel sure that the sand had been conveyed there from the south. this one could plainly see from depressions and wavelike undulations, showing that it had travelled (roughly) in a northerly direction; and although, having been unable to ascertain this for a fact, i do not wish to be too certain with regard to the movements and sources of these sand deposits, i was pretty firmly convinced that the sand had been deposited there by the wind, which had carried it over the himahlyan chain from the plains of india. my guard scoured the country from the high point of vantage to which we had ascended. away in the distance to the east, we saw a large number of horsemen raising clouds of dust; and, riding down the hill, the ponies sinking in the soft sand, we set off in the direction of the new comers, the surface at the bottom of the hill being more compact and harder. chapter lxxxiii at an unpleasant pace--drawing near the cavalcade--a picturesque sight--a shot fired at me--terrible effects of the spikes along my spine--the rope breaks--an ill omen--a second shot misses me--arrows--the end of my terrible ride. we travelled mile after mile at an unpleasant pace, until we arrived at a spot where, drawn up in a line, was the cavalcade we had seen from the summit of the hill. it was a beautiful sight as we approached it, though the pain which i was undergoing rather detracted from the pleasure i should otherwise have taken in the picturesque scene. there were about a hundred red lamas in the centre, with banner-men whose heads were covered by peculiar flat fluffy hats, and the same number of soldiers and officers in their grey, red and black tunics; some two hundred horsemen in all. the pombo, in his yellow coat and trousers and his queer pointed hat, sat on a magnificent pony a little in front of the crowd of lamas and soldiers. curiously enough, when close to this new crowd, the horseman who led my pony let go the rope, and the pony was lashed cruelly and left to its own devices. the soldiers of my guard reined up and drew aside. the pony dashed off in the direction of the pombo and, as i passed close to him, a man named nerba (private secretary of the tokchim tarjum), knelt down, and, taking aim with his matchlock resting on its prop, deliberately fired a shot at me. although (i learned afterwards) this nerba was one of the champion shots in the country, and the distance from the muzzle of his matchlock to me not more than four yards, the bullet missed me, whizzing past my left ear. probably the speed at which my animal was proceeding saved me, as the marksman could not take a very steady aim; but my pony, startled at the sudden report of the matchlock at such close quarters, took fright, and began rearing and plunging. i managed to maintain my seat, though the spikes in the saddle were lacerating the lower part of my spine terribly. [illustration: nerba firing at me] several horsemen now rode up and captured my pony, and preparations were made for another exciting number in the programme of my tortures. in their way these noble lamas were of a sporting nature, but i swore to myself that, no matter what they did to me, i would not give them the satisfaction of seeing that they were hurting me. acting on this principle, i pretended not to feel the effect of the spikes tearing the flesh off my backbone; and when they led me before the pombo to show him how covered with blood i was, i expressed satisfaction at riding such an excellent pony. this seemed to puzzle them. [illustration: the ride on a spiked saddle] a cord of yak's hair, about forty or fifty yards long, was now produced, the swivel attached to one end of it fastened to my handcuffs, and the other end held by a horseman. we set off again on our wild career, this time followed not only by the guard, but by the pombo and all his men. once or twice i could not help turning round to see what they were about. the cavalcade was a weird and picturesque sight, the riders with their many-coloured dresses, their matchlocks with red flags, their jewelled swords, their banners with long ribbons of all colours flying in the wind; all galloping furiously, shouting, yelling and hissing, amidst a deafening din of thousands of horse-bells. in order to accelerate our speed, a horseman rode by my side lashing my pony to make it go its hardest. meanwhile the horseman who held the cord did his utmost to pull me out of the saddle, no doubt in the hope of seeing me trampled to death by the cohort behind me. as i leaned my body forward so as to maintain my seat, and with my arms pulled violently backwards by the rope, the flesh was rubbed off my hands and knuckles by the chain of the handcuffs. in places the bone was exposed; and, of course, every tug brought me into forcible contact with the spikes and inflicted deeper wounds. the cord, though strong, eventually and unexpectedly gave way. the soldier who was pulling at the other end was clumsily unhorsed, and i myself was all but thrown by the unexpected jerk. this ludicrous incident at first provoked mirth among my escort, a mirth which their superstitious minds immediately turned into an ill omen. [illustration: coat i wore at the time of my capture, and showing effect of spikes] when my pony was stopped, as well as the runaway steed of the dismounted cavalier, i took advantage of their fears, and assured them once more that whatever harm they tried to do me would go against themselves. however, the cord was retied with sundry strong knots, and, after an interruption of a few minutes, we resumed our breakneck gallop, i being again sent on in front. towards the end of our journey we had to go round the curve of a sandhill, the track between this and a large pond at its foot being very narrow. at this point i saw in front of me a soldier posted in ambush, with his matchlock ready to fire. the pony sank deep in the sand, and could not travel fast here, which i suppose was the reason why this spot had been selected. the man fired as i passed only a few paces from him; but, as luck would have it, this second attempt also left me untouched. getting clear of the soft sand, and finding harder ground, we resumed our headlong career. several arrows were shot at me from behind; but, though some passed very near, not one struck me; and thus, after an interminable ride full of incident and excitement, we arrived, towards sunset, at our destination. on the crown of a hill stood a fortress and large lamasery, and at its foot, in front of another large structure, the pombo's gaudy tent had been pitched. the name of this place, as far as i could afterwards ascertain, was namj laccé galshio or gyatsho. chapter lxxxiv intense pain--hustled to the execution-ground--stretched and tied--thirsting for blood--a parade of torturing appliances--the music--the _taram_. [illustration: a display of various instruments of torture] two or three men tore me roughly off the saddle. the pain in my spine caused by the spikes was intense. i asked for a moment's rest. my captors, however, refused, and, roughly thrusting me forward, said that i would be beheaded in an instant. all the people round jeered and made signs to me that my head would be cut off, and insults of all kinds were showered upon me by the crowd of lamas and soldiers. i was hustled to the execution-ground, which lay to the left front of the tent. on the ground was a long log of wood in the shape of a prism. upon the sharp edge of this i was made to stand, and several men held me by the body while four or five others, using their combined strength, stretched my legs as wide apart as they could go. fixed in this painful position, the brutes securely tied me by my feet to the log of wood with cords of yak-hair. several men were made to pull these cords, and they were so tight that they cut grooves into my skin and flesh in several places round my ankles and on my feet, many of the cuts[ ] being as much as three inches long. [illustration: lama musicians] when i was thus firmly bound, one ruffian, the man nerba, whom i have mentioned before as having fired a shot at me, came forward and seized me from behind by the hair of my head. my hair was long, as it had not been cut for over five months. [illustration: the hot iron torture] the spectacle before me was overwhelming. by the pombo's tent stood in a row the most villainous brutes i have ever set eyes upon. one, a powerful repulsive individual, held in his hand a great knobbed mallet used for fracturing bones; another carried a bow and arrows; a third held a big two-handed sword; while others made a display of various ghastly instruments of torture. the crowd, thirsting for my blood, formed up in a semicircle, leaving room for me to see the parade of the torture implements that awaited me; and, as my eyes roamed from one figure to the other, the several lamas shook their various implements to show that they were preparing for action. [illustration: the taram] a group of three lamas stood at the entrance of the tent. they were the musicians. one held a gigantic horn which, when blown, emitted hoarse, thundering sounds, and his companions had one a drum and the other cymbals. another fellow some distance away continually sounded a huge gong. from the moment i was made to dismount the deafening sounds of the diabolical trio echoed all through the valley, and added to the horror of the scene. an iron bar with a handle of wood bound in red cloth was being made red hot in a brasier. the pombo, who had again placed something in his mouth to produce artificial foaming at the lips, and so to show his temper, worked himself up into a frenzy. a lama handed him the implement of torture (the _taram_), now red hot, and the pombo seized it by the handle. _"ngaghi kin meh taxon!_" ("we will burn out your eyes!") cried a chorus of lamas. the pombo strode up to me, brandishing the ghastly implement. i stared at him, but he kept his eyes away from me. he seemed reluctant, but the lamas around him urged him on, lifting the man's arm towards me! "you have come to this country to see" (alluding to what i had stated the previous day, viz., that i was a traveller and pilgrim, and had only come to see the country). "this, then, is the punishment for you!" and with these dreadful words the pombo raised his arm and placed the red-hot iron bar parallel to, and about an inch or two from, my eyeballs, and all but touching my nose. instinctively i kept my eyes tightly closed, but the heat was so intense that it seemed as if my eyes, the left one especially, were being desiccated and my nose scorched. though the time seemed interminable, i do not think that the heated bar was before my eyes actually longer than thirty seconds or so. yet it was quite long enough, for, when i lifted my aching eyelids, i saw everything as in a red mist. my left eye was frightfully painful, and every few seconds it seemed as if something in front of it obscured its vision. with the right eye i could still see fairly well, except that everything, as i have said, looked red instead of its usual colour. the hot iron had been thrown down and was frizzling on the wet ground a few paces from me. [ ] measured some weeks later by dr. wilson. chapter lxxxv bleeding all over--insulted and spat upon--"kill him!"--urging on the executioner--refusal to stoop--an unpleasant sword exercise--the execution suspended. my position as i stood with my legs wide apart, with my back, hands and legs bleeding, and seeing everything of a ghastly red tinge; amidst the deafening, maddening noise of gong, drum, cymbals and horn; insulted, spat upon by the crowd, and with nerba holding me so tight by my hair as to tear handfuls of it from my scalp, was one in which i cannot wish even my bitterest enemies to find themselves. all i was able to do was to remain calm and composed and to watch with apparent unconcern the preparations for the next sufferings to be inflicted upon me. "_miumta nani sehko!_" ("kill him with a rifle!") shouted a hoarse voice. a matchlock was now being loaded by a soldier, and such was the quantity of gunpowder they placed in the barrel that i made sure whoever fired it would have his head blown off; so it was with a certain amount of satisfaction that i saw it handed over to the pombo. that official placed the weapon against my forehead, with the muzzle pointing upwards. then a soldier leaning down, applied fire to the fuse and eventually there was a loud report which gave my head a severe shock, and the overloaded matchlock flew clean out of the pombo's hand, much to everybody's surprise. i forced myself to laugh; and their confusion, added to the tantalising failure of every attempt they made to hurt me, drove the crowd to the highest pitch of fury. _"ta kossaton, ta kossaton!_" ("kill him, kill him!") exclaimed fierce voices all round me. "_ngala mangbo shidak majidan!_" ("we cannot frighten him!") "_ta kossaton, ta kossaton!_" ("kill him, kill him!"), the whole valley resounding with their ferocious cries. a huge two-handed sword was now handed to the pombo, who drew it out of its sheath. [illustration: a bannerman] "kill him, kill him!" shouted the mob once more, urging on the executioner, who, his superstitious nature not having overcome the ill-omened fact that the matchlock a moment before had jumped out of his hand (which he probably attributed to the doing of some supreme power and not to the over-charge), seemed quite reluctant to come forward. i seized this moment to say that they might kill me if they wished, but that, if i died to-day, they would all die to-morrow--an undeniable fact, for we are all bound to die some day. this seemed to cool them for a moment, but the excitement in the crowd was too great, and at last they succeeded in working the pombo up into a passion. his face became quite unrecognisable, such was his excitement, and he behaved like a madman. at this point a lama approached and slipped something into the mouth of the executioner, who again foamed at the lips. a lama held his sword, while he turned up one sleeve of his coat to have his arms free, and the lamas turned up the other for him. then he strode towards me with slow, ponderous steps, swinging the shiny sharp blade from side to side before him, with his bare arms outstretched. the man nerba, who was still holding me by the hair, was told to make me bend my neck. i resisted with what little strength i had left, determined to keep my head erect and my forehead high. they might kill me, true enough, they might hack me to pieces if they chose, but never until i had lost my last atom of strength would these ruffians make me stoop before them. i would perish, but it should be looking down upon the pombo and his countrymen. [illustration: the executioner brought the sword down to my neck] the executioner, now close to me, held the sword with his nervous hands, lifting it high above his shoulder. he then brought it down to my neck, which he touched with the blade, to measure the distance, as it were, for a clean effective stroke. then, drawing back a step, he quickly raised the sword again and struck a blow at me with all his might. the sword passed disagreeably close to my neck under my chin, but did not touch me. i would not flinch, nor speak, and my demeanour seemed to impress him almost to the point of frightening him. he became reluctant to continue his diabolical performance; but the impatience and turbulence of the crowd were at their highest, and the lamas nearer to him gesticulated like madmen and urged him on again. as i write this, their wild shouts, their bloodthirsty countenances, are vividly brought before me. apparently against his will, the executioner went through the same kind of performance on the other side of my head. this time the blade passed so near that the point cannot have been more than half an inch or so from my neck. it seemed as if all would soon be over; yet, strange to say, even at this culminating moment i did not seriously realise that i should die. why this was so i cannot say, because everything pointed towards my end being very near; but i had a feeling all the time that i should live to see the end of it all. i was very sorry, if my end were really at hand, as it seemed likely, that i should die without seeing my parents and friends again, and that they probably would never know how and where i had died. one is naturally at all times reluctant to leave a world in which one has barely had a dull moment, but, after all my wretched experiences, sufferings and excitement, i did not realise my peril so much as i should have done had i, for instance, been dragged from my comfortable london flat direct on to the execution-ground, instead of first having lived through the recent past. naturally the scene is one that i am not likely to forget, and i must say for the tibetans that the whole affair was very picturesquely carried out. even the ghastliest ceremonies may have their artistic side, and this particular one, performed with extra pomp and flourish, was really impressive. it appears that the unpleasant sword exercise is sometimes gone through in tibet previous to actually cutting off the head, so as to make the victim suffer more before the final blow is given. i was not aware of this at the time, and only learnt it some weeks after. it is usually at the third stroke that the victim is actually beheaded. the lamas were still clamouring for my head, but the pombo made a firm stand this time, and declined to go on with the execution. they collected round him and seemed very angry; they shouted and yelled and gesticulated in the wildest fashion; and still the pombo kept his eyes upon me in a half-respectful, half-frightened manner, and refused to move. chapter lxxxvi mansing arrives--a pretence of killing him--our execution postponed--fed by the lamas. an excited consultation followed, during which, in the midst of this scene of barbarity, my coolie mansing arrived. he had fallen off his bare-back pony many times, and had been left far behind. the man who held my hair now relinquished his grasp, while another pushed me violently from in front, causing me to fall heavily backward, and putting a painful strain on all the tendons of my legs. mansing, bruised and aching all over, was brought forward and tied by his legs to the same log of wood to which i was fastened. they informed me that they would kill my coolie first, and one brutal lama seized him roughly by the throat. i was pushed up in a sitting posture, and a cloth was thrown over my head and face, so that i could not see what was being done. i heard poor mansing groan pitifully, then there was a dead silence. i called him, i received no answer; so i concluded that he had been despatched. i was left in this terrible suspense for over a quarter of an hour, when at last they removed the cloth from over my head, and i beheld my coolie lying before me, bound to the log and almost unconscious, but, thank god, still alive. he told me that, when i had called him, a lama had placed his hand upon his mouth to prevent him from answering, while, with the other hand, he had squeezed his neck so tightly as to nearly strangle him. after a while mansing got better, and the coolness and bravery of the poor wretch during these terrible trials were really marvellous. we were told that our execution was only postponed till the next day, in order that we might be tortured until the time came for us to be brought out to death. a number of lamas and soldiers stood round jeering at us. i seized the opportunity this respite afforded to hail a swaggering lama and ask him for some refreshment. "_orcheh, orcheh nga dappa tugu duh, chuen deh, dang, yak, guram, tcha, tsamba pin_" ("i am very hungry, please give me some rice, yak meat, _ghur_, tea, and oatmeal!") i asked in my best tibetan. "_hum murr, maharaja!_" ("i want butter, your majesty") put in mansing, half in hindustani and half in the tibetan language. this natural application for food seemed to afford intense amusement to our torturers, who had formed a ring round us, and laughed at our appeal, while mansing and i, both of us famished, were left sitting bound in a most painful position. the day had now waned, and our torturers did not fail to remind us constantly that the following day our heads would be severed from our bodies, which i told them would cause us no pain, for if they gave us no food we should be dead of starvation by then. whether they realised that this might be the case, or whether some other reasons moved them, i cannot say; but several of the lamas, who had been most brutal, including one who had the previous day taken a part in chanden sing's flogging, now became quite polite and treated us with a surprising amount of deference. two lamas were despatched to the monastery, and returned after some time with bags of _tsamba_ and a large _raksang_ of boiling tea. i have hardly ever enjoyed a meal more, though the lamas stuffed the food down my throat with their unwashed fingers so fast that they nearly choked me. "eat, eat as much as you can," said they grimly, "for it may be your last meal." and eat i did, and washed the _tsamba_ down with quantities of buttered tea, which they poured into my mouth carelessly out of the _raksang_. mansing, whose religion did not allow him to eat food touched by folk of a different caste, was eventually permitted to lick the meal out of the wooden bowl. i myself was none too proud to take the food in any way it might be offered, and when my humble "_orcheh, orcheh tchuen mangbo terokchi_" ("please give me some more") met with the disapproval of the lamas, and brought out the everlasting negative, "_middù, middù_," i was still too hungry to waste any of the precious food: so the tibetans revolved the wooden bowl round and round my mouth, and i licked it as clean as if it had never been used. chapter lxxxvii happiness checked--stretched on the rack--mansing shares my fate--drenched and in rags--an unsolved mystery. after all the excitement of the day, we were beginning to feel a little restored and much relieved at being treated rather less roughly, were it only for a few moments, when, small as it was, the improvement in our condition was checked. a lama came from the monastery and gave orders right and left, and the place was again in commotion. we were pounced upon and roughly seized, and my legs were quickly untied, a number of men holding me down the while. again they lifted me until i stood upright on the cutting edge of the prismatic log: two men seized one leg and two the other, and stretched them apart as far as they could possibly go. then rope after rope was wound round my feet and ankles, and i was made fast as before to the log. as my legs were much farther apart this time, the pain in the muscles of my legs when they proceeded to knock me down backwards was even greater than it had been on the previous occasion. but before i had time to feel it in full, the lamas, now as ferocious as i had seen them at first, dragged my manacled arms backwards from under my body and tied a rope to the chain of the handcuffs. this done, they passed the rope through a hole in the top of a high post behind me, and by tugging at it, strained my arms upwards in a way that, had i been less supple, would certainly have broken them. when all their strength combined could not stretch me another inch without tearing my body to pieces, they made the rope fast, and i remained half suspended, and feeling as if all the bones of my limbs were getting, or had got, pulled out of their sockets. the weight of the body naturally tending to settle down would, i felt, every moment increase the suffering of this terrible torture, which was really a primitive form of the rack. mansing was likewise suspended on the other side, his feet remaining tied to the log to which my own were fastened, only not quite so wide apart. the pain was at first intense, the tendons of the legs and arms being dreadfully strained, and the spinal column bent so as nearly to be broken in two. the shoulder-blades forced into close contact, pressed the vertebræ inwards, and caused excruciating pains along the lumbar vertebræ, where the strain was greatest. [illustration: thus elapsed twenty-four terrible hours] as if this were not sufficient, a cord was tied from mansing's neck to mine, the object of which was to keep our necks stretched in a most uncomfortable position. it began to rain heavily, and we were left out in the open. the rags to which our clothes had been reduced in our struggle when we were first seized were drenched. half naked and wounded, we were alternately numbed with cold and burning with fever. a guard encircled us, having with them two watch-dogs tied to pegs. the soldiers were apparently so confident of our inability to escape that they drew their heavy blankets over their heads and slept. one of them in his slumber moved and pushed his sword outside the blanket in which he had now rolled himself tight. this inspired me with the idea of attempting to escape. two or three hours later it had become very dark. thanks to the extremely supple nature of my hands, i succeeded in drawing the right hand out of my handcuffs, and, after an hour or so of stealthy and anxious work i managed to unloose the cord that bound mansing's feet. then i whispered to him to get up slowly and to push the sword towards me with his foot until i could reach it. if successful in this, i could soon cut my bonds and those fastening mansing's hands, and with a weapon in our possession we would make a bold dash for liberty. mansing, however, was not a champion of agility. in his joy at feeling partly free, the poor coolie moved his stiff legs clumsily. the vigilant watch-dogs detected this, and gave the alarm by barking. the guards were up in a moment, and, timid as they always were, they all hurriedly left us, and went to fetch lights to examine our bonds. in the meanwhile, protected by the darkness of the stormy night, i had succeeded in replacing my hand inside the iron handcuff. putting it back was more difficult than drawing it out, but i had just time to effect my purpose. the men who had gone to the monastery returned with lights. i pretended to be fast asleep: a likely thing with every bone in my body feeling as if it were disjointed, every limb half-numbed and frozen, every tendon and ligament so strained as to drive me mad with pain! the tibetans found the bonds round mansing's feet undone. they examined my hands and saw them just as they had left them. they inspected my feet. the ropes were still there cutting into my flesh. they inspected mansing's hands, only to find them still fastened to the post behind him. the tibetans were so puzzled at this mysterious occurrence that they positively got frightened. they began to shout excitedly, calling for help. in a moment, the alarm having been given, a crowd of men rushed at us, and with their swords drawn, surrounded us. one man, braver than the rest, gave mansing a few cuts with a whip, warning us that if the ropes were found undone again they would decapitate us there and then. the coolie was again bound, this time more tightly than ever. chapter lxxxviii mansing partially untied after twelve hours on the rack--numbed--how the brain works under such circumstances--my scientific instruments--the end of my photographic plates--a paint-box accused of occult powers--an offer refused--courtesy and cruelty combined. by way of precaution, a light was set between mansing and myself, and, as it was still raining hard, the tibetans placed a canvas shelter over us to prevent the light from being extinguished. at about six or seven in the morning, mansing's feet were untied, but not his hands. i was left in the same uncomfortable and painful posture. the hours passed very slowly and wearily. my legs, my arms and hands had gradually become quite lifeless, and after the first six or seven hours that i had been stretched on the rack, i felt no more actual pain. the numbness crept along every limb of my body, until i had now the peculiar sensation of possessing a living head on a dead body. it is indeed remarkable how one's brain keeps alive and working well under such circumstances, apparently unaffected by the temporary mortification of the remainder of the system. the day now dawning was one full of strange incidents. when the sun was high in the sky, the pombo, with a great number of lamas, rode down from the monastery, though the distance was very short. he went to his tent, and presently my cases of scientific instruments were brought outside and opened, the soldiers and lamas displaying an amusing mixture of curiosity and caution over everything they touched. i had to explain the use of each instrument, a difficult matter indeed, considering their ignorance and my limited knowledge of tibetan, which did not allow of my delivering scientific addresses. the sextant was looked upon with great suspicion, and even more so the hypsometrical apparatus, with its thermometers in brass tubes, which they took to be some sort of firearm, then came a lot of undeveloped photographic plates, box after box of which they opened in broad daylight, destroying in a few moments all the valuable negatives that i had taken since leaving mansarowar. the pombo, more observant than the others, noticed that the plates turned a yellowish colour on being exposed to the light. "why is that?" asked he. "it is a sign that you will suffer for what you are doing to me." the pombo flung away the plate, and was much upset. he ordered a hole to be dug in the ground some way off, and the plates to be instantly buried. the soldiers, however, who had been entrusted with the order, seemed loth to touch the plates, and they had to be reprimanded and beaten by the lamas before they would obey. at last, with their feet, they shoved the boxes of negatives to a spot some distance off, where, in dog fashion, they dug a deep hole with their hands in the muddy ground; and there, alas! my work of several weeks was covered for ever with earth. now came my paint-box with its cakes of water-colours. "what do you do with these?" cried an angry lama, pointing at the harmless colours. "i paint pictures." "no, you are lying. with the 'yellow' you find where gold is in the country, and with the 'blue' you discover where malachite is." i assured them that this was not the case, and told them that, if they would untie me, i would, on recovering the use of my arms, paint a picture before them. they prudently preferred to leave me tied up. their whole attention was now drawn to a considerable sum in silver and gold which they found in the cases, and the pombo warned the people that not one coin must be stolen. i took this chance to make an offering of rupees to the lamasery, and told the pombo that i would like him to accept as a gift my martini-henry, which i had noticed rather took his fancy. both gifts were refused, as they said the lamasery was very wealthy, and the pombo's position as an official did not allow him to carry a rifle. the pombo, nevertheless, was quite touched by the offer, and came personally to thank me. in a way the rascals were gentlemanly enough in their manner, and i could not help admiring their mixture of courtesy and cruelty, either of which they could switch on at a moment's notice without regard to the other. chapter lxxxix an unknown article in tibet--my sponge bewitched--a lama fires my martini-henry--the rifle bursts. they had now reached the bottom of the water-tight case, and the pombo drew out with much suspicion a curious flattened object. "what is that?" inquired he, as usual lifting the article up in the air. my sight had been so injured that i could not clearly discern what it was; but on their waving it in front of my nose, i recognised it to be my long mislaid bath-sponge, dry and flattened, which chanden sing, with his usual ability for packing, had stored away at the bottom of the case, piling upon it the heavy cases of photographic plates. the sponge, a very large one, was now reduced to the thickness of less than an inch, owing to the weight that had for weeks lain upon it. the tibetans were greatly puzzled at this new discovery, which they said resembled tinder; and it was touched with much caution, for some of the lamas said it might explode. when their curiosity was appeased, they took it and threw it away. it fell near me in a small pool of water. this was a golden opportunity to frighten my jailers, and i addressed the sponge in english, and with any word that came into my mouth, pretending to utter incantations. the attention of the lamas and soldiers was naturally quickly drawn to this unusual behaviour on my part; and they could not conceal their terror when, as i spoke louder and louder to the sponge, it gradually swelled to its normal size with the moisture it absorbed. the tibetans, who at first could hardly believe their eyes at this incomprehensible occurrence, became so panic-stricken at what they believed to be an exhibition of my occult powers, that there was a general stampede in every direction. in a way, all this was entertaining, and anyhow it served to pass away the time. the most amusing scene that afternoon was, however, still to come. after a time the lamas screwed up their courage, and returned to where my baggage had been overhauled. one of them picked up my martini-henry, and the others urged him to fire it off. he came to me, and when i had explained to him how to load it, he took a cartridge and placed it in the breech, but would insist on not closing the bolt firmly home. when i warned him of the consequences, he struck me over the head with the butt of the rifle. [illustration: belt, with bullet and powder pouches, dagger, needle-case, and flint and steel] it is the fashion, when aiming with one of their matchlocks, which have a prop attached to them, to place the butt in front of the nose instead of holding it firmly to the shoulder as we do. so the lama aimed in this fashion at one of my yaks peacefully grazing some thirty yards off. while everybody watched anxiously to see the results of this marksman's shooting, he pulled the trigger; the rifle went off with an extra loud report, and behold! the muzzle of the martini burst and the violent recoil gave the lama a fearful blow in the face. the rifle, flying out of his hands, described a somersault in the air, and the lama fell backwards to the ground, where he remained spread out flat, bleeding all over, and screaming like a child. his nose was squashed; one eye had been put out, and his teeth shattered. whether the rifle burst because the bolt had not been properly closed, or because mud had got into the muzzle as well, i could not say; but i give here a photograph of the broken weapon, which the tibetans returned to me several months later through the government of india. the injured lama, i may say, was the one at the head of the party that wanted to have my head cut off, so that, naturally enough, i could not help betraying my satisfaction at the accident. i was glad they had let me live another day were it only to see his self-inflicted punishment. [illustration: martini-henry exploded] chapter xc a consultation--untied from the rack--the most terrible twenty-four hours of my life--i lose the use of my feet--circulation returning--intense pain--sports. the pombo, who had been, during the greater part of the afternoon, looking at me with an air of mingled pity and respect, as though he had been forced against his will to treat me so brutally, could not help joining in my laughter at the lama's sorrowful plight. in a way, i believe he was rather glad that the accident had happened; for, if he had until then been uncertain whether to kill me or not, he felt, after what had occurred, that it was not prudent to attempt it. the gold ring which had been taken from me on the day of our arrest, and for which i had asked many times, as it had been given by my mother, was regarded as possessing miraculous powers as long as it was upon me; and was therefore kept well away from me, for fear that, with its help, i might break my bonds and escape. the pombo, the lamas and officers held another consultation, at the end of which, towards sunset, several soldiers came and loosed my legs from the stretching log; and my hands, though still manacled, were lowered from the pillar behind. as the ropes round my ankles were unwound from the deep channels they had cut into my flesh, large patches of skin came away with them. thus ended the most terrible twenty-four hours i have ever passed in my lifetime. i felt very little relief at first as i lay flat on the ground, for my body and legs were stiff and as if dead; and, as time went by, and i saw no signs of their coming back to life, i feared that mortification had set in, and that i had lost the use of my feet for good. it was two or three hours before the blood began to circulate in my right foot, and the pain when it did so was intense. had a handful of knives been passed slowly down the inside of my leg the agony could not have been more excruciating. my arms were not quite so bad: they also were numbed, but the circulation was more quickly re-established. in the meanwhile, the pombo, whether to amuse me or to show off his riches, ordered about one hundred ponies, some with magnificent harness, to be brought up; and, mounting the finest, and holding in his hand that dreadful _taram_, rode round the hill on which the monastery and fort stood. on returning, he harangued his men, and a series of sports began, the pombo seating himself near me and watching me intently to see how i was enjoying the performance. first of all the best marksmen were selected, and with their matchlocks fired one after the other at my two poor yaks only a few yards off; but although they aimed carefully and deliberately, they did not succeed in hitting them. i knew that they fired with bullets, for i could hear the hissing sound the missiles made. next came a display of fine horsemanship, which was very interesting. i should have enjoyed it more if i had not been suffering agonies all the time. still, the performance helped to cheer me. first there were races in which only two ponies at a time took part, the last race being run between the two winners of the last heats, and a _kata_ was presented to the victor. next one horseman rode ahead at full gallop flying a _kata_, while some twenty others followed closely behind. the _kata_ was left to fly by itself, and when it settled on the ground, the horsemen following the first rode some distance away, and, at a given signal, galloped back wildly, all converging towards the spot, and, bending down from their ponies, attempted to pick up the _kata_ without dismounting. some of the younger men were very clever at this. another exercise consisted in one man on foot standing still, while a mounted comrade rode at full gallop towards him, seized him by his clothes, and lifted him on to the saddle. though i could not see as well as i wished, i got so interested in the show, and expressed such admiration for the ponies, that the pombo, becoming quite thoughtful and polite, ordered the best of them to be brought before me, and had me lifted into a sitting posture, so that i could see them better. chapter xci a great relief--the pombo's attentions--a weird hypnotic dance. this was a great relief, for i was suffering more from my humiliating position, being unable to stand, than from the tortures themselves. the pombo told me that i must now look towards the tent, and then got up and walked towards it. the opening of the tent was over twenty feet long. some soldiers came and dragged me close to the front of it, so that i could witness all that went on. two big lamas entered the tent with the pombo, and a number of other people who were inside were turned out. they closed the tent for a few minutes, and then opened it again. in the meantime a gong summoned the lamas of the monastery to come down, and, a few minutes later, a string of them came and took their places inside the tent. the pombo, in his yellow coat and trousers and four-cornered hat, sat on a kind of high-backed chair in the centre of the tent, and by his side stood the two lamas who had first entered it with him. the pombo was beyond doubt in a hypnotic trance. he sat motionless, with his hands flat on his knees and his head erect; his eyes were fixed and staring. for some minutes he remained like this, and all the soldiers and people who had collected in front of the tent went down on their knees, laid their caps on the ground, and muttered prayers. one of the two lamas, a fellow with great mesmeric powers, now laid his hand upon the shoulders of the pombo, who gradually raised his arms with hands outstretched and remained as in a cataleptic state for a long time without moving an inch. next the lama touched the pombo's neck with his thumbs, and caused the head to begin a rapid circular movement from left to right. [illustration: the pombo's contortions] certain exorcisms were pronounced by the hypnotiser, and the pombo now began the most extraordinary snake-like contortions, moving and twisting his arms, head, body and legs. he worked himself, or rather was worked, into a frenzy that lasted some time, and the crowd of devotees drew nearer and nearer to him, praying fervently and emitting deep sighs and cries of astonishment and almost terror at some of the more eccentric movements of his limbs. every now and then this weird kind of dance terminated in a strange posture, the pombo actually doubling himself up with his head between his feet and his long flat hat resting on the ground. while he was in this position, the bystanders went one by one to finger his feet, and make low prostrations and salaams. at last the hypnotiser, seizing the pombo's head between his hands, stared in his eyes, rubbed his forehead, and woke him from the trance. the pombo was pale and exhausted. he lay back on the chair and his hat fell off his head, which was clean shaven, thus unmistakably showing that he too was a lama, and, as we have seen, of a very high order, probably of the first rank after the dalai lama. _katas_ were distributed after this religious performance to all the tibetans present, and they folded them and stowed them away in their coats. [illustration: the finale of the dance] chapter xcii compliments exchanged--a poisoned drink proffered--in acute pain--uncertainty as to our fate--working the oracle--my webbed fingers. the pombo came out of his gaudy tent, and i told him that the dance was beautiful, but that i was very hungry. he asked me what i wanted to eat, and i said i would like some meat and tea. a little later, a large vessel with a delicious stew of yak's meat was brought to me, as well as _tsamba_ in abundance. however, though i felt quite famished, i had the greatest difficulty in swallowing even a little food. this i thought must be owing to the injuries to my spine and to the mortification of my limbs, which had apparently affected my whole system except my head. when the pombo had retired and night came on, i was again tied to the stretching log, but this time with my limbs not stretched so far apart. my hands, too, were again fastened to the pillar behind, but with no strain on them. late in the evening, half a dozen lamas came from the monastery with a light and a large brass bowl which they said contained tea. the wounded lama, with his head all bandaged up, was among them, and he was so anxious for me to drink some of it to keep myself warm during the cold night that i became suspicious. when they pushed a bowl of the liquid to my lips, i merely sipped a little, and declined to take more, spitting out what they had forced into my mouth. i swallowed a few drops, and a few minutes later i was seized with sharp, excruciating pains in my stomach, which continued for several days after. i can but conclude that the drink proffered me was poisoned. the following day my left foot, which had remained lifeless since i had been untied from the rack the first time, began to get better, and the circulation was gradually restored. the pain was unbearable. in the morning indecision again prevailed as to what was to be done to us. a number of lamas were still anxious to have us beheaded, whereas the pombo and the others had the previous night almost made up their minds to send us back to the frontier. unfortunately, it appears[ ] that the pombo had seen a vision during the night in which a spirit told him that, if he did not kill us, he and his country would suffer some great misfortune. "you can kill the plenki," the spirit was reported to have said, "and no one will punish you if you do. the plenkis are afraid to fight the tibetans." among the lamas no important step is taken without incantations and reference to occult science, so the pombo ordered a lama to cut off a lock of my hair, which he did with a very blunt knife, and then the pombo rode up with it in his hand to the lamasery to consult the oracle. the lock was handed in for inspection, and it seems that, after certain incantations, the oracle answered that i must be beheaded or the country would be in great danger. the pombo rode back apparently disappointed, and now ordered that one of my toe-nails should be cut; after which operation, performed with the same blunt knife, the oracle was again consulted as to what should be done, and unhappily gave the same answer. three such consultations are usually held by the high court of the assembled lamas, the tibetans on the third occasion producing for the oracle's decision a piece of a finger-nail. the lama who was about to cut this off examined my hands behind and spread my fingers apart, expressing great surprise and astonishment. in a moment all the lamas and soldiers came round and examined my manacled hands; a repetition of my experience at the tucker monastery. the pombo, too, on being informed, immediately came and inspected my fingers, and the proceedings were at once stopped. when some weeks later i was released, i was able to learn from the tibetans the reason of their amazement. my fingers happen to be webbed rather higher than usual, and this is most highly thought of in tibet. he who possesses such fingers has, according to the tibetans, a charmed life; and no matter how much one tries, no harm can be done to him. apart from the question whether there was much charm or not in my life in tibet, there is no doubt that this trifling superstition did much towards hastening the pombo's decision as to what was to be our fate. [ ] the tibetan lamas stated this to the political peshkar karak sing, our frontier officer. chapter xciii our lives to be spared--an unpleasant march--chanden sing still alive--a sleepless night--towards the frontier--long and painful marches--how we slept at night--a map drawn with blood. the pombo ordered that my life should be spared, and that i should on that very day start on my return journey towards the indian frontier. he took from my own money one hundred and twenty rupees, which he placed in my pocket for my wants during the journey, and commanded that, though i must be kept chained up, i was to be treated kindly, and my servants also. when all was ready, mansing and i were led on foot to toxem, our guard consisting of some fifty horsemen riding on ponies. we had to travel at a great speed despite our severely lacerated feet, our aching bones, and the sores and wounds with which we were covered all over. the soldiers led me tied by the neck like a dog, and dragged me along when, panting, exhausted and suffering, i could not keep up with the ponies. we crossed several cold streams, sinking in water and mud up to our waists. at toxem, to my great delight, i beheld chanden sing still alive. he had been kept prisoner in the mud-house, where he had remained tied upright to a post for over three days, and for four days he had not eaten food nor drunk anything. he was told that i had been beheaded. he was in a dreadful condition; almost dying from his wounds, cold and starvation. we were detained there for the night, half-choked by smoke in one of the rooms of the mud-house packed with soldiers, who, with a woman of easy morals, gambled the whole night, and sang and swore and fought, preventing us from sleeping for even a few minutes. [illustration: chanden sing tied to a post] the next day at sunrise chanden sing and i were placed on yaks, not on riding saddles, but on pack-saddles such as those shown in the illustration in chapter xl. p. . poor mansing was made to walk, and was beaten mercilessly when, tired and worn out, he fell or remained behind. they again tied him with a rope by the neck and dragged him along in a most brutal manner. we had a strong guard to prevent our escaping, and they demanded fresh relays of yaks and ponies and food for themselves at all the encampments, so that we travelled very fast. in the first five days we covered one hundred and seventy-eight miles, the two longest marches being respectively forty-two and forty-five miles; but afterwards we did not cover quite such great distances. [illustration: a white yak] we suffered considerably on these long marches, as the soldiers ill-treated us and would not allow us to eat every day for fear we should get too strong. they let us have food only every two or three days, and our exhaustion and the pain caused by riding those wretched yaks in our wounded condition were terrible. [illustration: map drawn in blood during captivity] all our property had been taken away from us, and our clothes were in rags and swarming with vermin. we were bare-footed and practically naked. the first few days we generally marched from before sunrise till sometimes an hour or two after sunset; and when we reached camp we were torn off our yaks and our jailers fastened iron cuffs round our ankles, in addition to those we had already round our wrists. being considered quite safe, we were left to sleep out in the open without a covering of any kind, and often lying on snow or deluged with rain. our guard generally pitched a tent under which they slept; but even when they did not have one, they usually went to brew their tea some fifty yards or so from us. helped by my two servants, who sat by me to keep watch and to screen me, i managed, at considerable risk, to keep a rough record of the journey back, on a small piece of paper that had remained in my pocket when i had been searched by the tibetans. as i did when on the rack, i used to draw my right hand out of its cuff, and, with a small piece of bone i had picked up as pen, and my blood as ink, i drew brief cipher notes, and a map of the whole route back. necessarily, as i had no instruments with which to take careful observations, i had to content myself with taking my bearings by the sun, the position of which i got fairly accurately by constantly watching the shadow projected by my body on the ground. of course, when it rained or snowed, i was altogether at a loss, and had to reckon my bearings by the observations of the previous day. chapter xciv south of the outward journey--severity of our guard--ventriloquism and its effects--terrible but instructive days--the southern source of the brahmaputra--leaving yutzang. we travelled, as can be seen by the dotted red line on the map attached to this book, first w. then w.n.w., n.w., w. and n.w., following the brahmaputra along a course south of the outward journey, until we reached the boundary of the yutzang[ ] (central, or lhassa) province. our guard were not only severe with us, but they also ill-treated us in every possible way. one or two of the soldiers, however, showed kindness and thoughtfulness, bringing us a little butter or _tsamba_ whenever they could do so unseen by their comrades. the guard was changed so frequently that we had no chance of making friends with them, and each lot seemed worse than the last. a very curious incident happened one day, causing a scare among them. we had halted near a cliff, and the soldiers were some twenty yards off. having exhausted every means i could think of to inspire these ruffians with respect, i resorted to the performance of some ventriloquial feats, pretending to speak and to receive the answers from the summit of the cliff. the tibetans were terror-stricken. they asked me who was up there. i said it was some one i knew. "is it a plenki?" "yes." immediately they hustled us on our yaks and mounted their ponies, and we left the place at headlong speed. on reaching a spot which from observations taken on my outward journey i reckoned to be in longitude ° ' " e. and latitude ° ' " n. i had a great piece of luck. it is at this point that the two principal sources of the brahmaputra meet and form one river, the one coming from the n.w., which i had already followed, the other proceeding from the w.n.w. the tibetans, to my delight, selected the southern route, thus giving me the opportunity of visiting the second of the two principal sources of the great river. this second stream rises in a flat plain, having its first birth in a lakelet in approximate longitude ° ' e. and latitude ° ' n. i gave the northern source my own name, a proceeding which i trust will not be regarded as immodest in view of the fact that i was the first european to visit both sources and of all the circumstances of my journey. [illustration: one of our guard] this period of our captivity was dreary, yet interesting and instructive, for, as we went along, i got the soldiers to teach me some tibetan songs, not unlike those of the shokas in character, and from the less ill-natured men of our guard i picked up, by judicious questioning, a considerable amount of information, which, together with that collected from my own observations, i have given in this book. over a more southerly and lower pass than the maium pass, by which, healthy, hopeful and free, we had entered the province of yutzang, we now left it, wounded, broken down, naked and prisoners. [ ] also written u-tzang. chapter xcv easier times--large encampments--suffocating a goat--a tarjum's encampment--tokchim--old friends--musicians--charity. we now proceeded in a north-westerly direction, and, once clear of the sacred yutzang province, our guard behaved with rather less cruelty. with the little money the pombo had permitted me to keep we were allowed to purchase food enough to provide us with more frequent meals, and, while we ate, the soldiers removed our handcuffs, which they temporarily placed round our ankles. thus, with utensils lent us by our guard, we were able to cook some food; and, although we had to serve it on flat stones instead of dishes, it seemed indeed delicious. we crossed over our former track, and then followed it almost in a parallel line, but some miles north of it, along an undulating, clayey plateau, thus avoiding the marshy plain which we had found so troublesome to cross on our journey out. we found large numbers of black tents here and there, and one night, when we were encamped by some small lakes, we were permitted to purchase a goat. a soldier, a good fellow who had been very friendly to us, selected a fine fat one for us, and we were looking forward with pleasure to a solid meal, when we found to our dismay that we had no means of despatching the animal. we could not behead it, as the tibetans would not trust us with a knife or sword, and the tibetans themselves refused to kill the animal for us in any other way. eventually our soldier friend allowed his scruples to be overcome by the payment of a rupee, and proceeded to kill the animal in a most cruel fashion. he tied its legs together, and, having stuffed the nostrils with mud, he held the poor beast's mouth closed with one hand until it was suffocated. the soldier during the performance revolved his prayer-wheel with his free hand, praying fervently all the while. [illustration: soldier suffocating goat] we found ourselves at last in the plain, where a tarjum's encampment of some two hundred tents was to be seen, and here we remained one night. there was a large assemblage of lamas and soldiers. in the middle of the night we were suddenly and roughly roused from sleep, and made to move our camp about a mile or so from the settlement; and, early in the morning, having crossed the large stream, we proceeded in a south-westerly direction, reaching the encampment of the tokchim tarjum the same night. here we were met by the officers who had on a previous occasion brought us gifts, and whom we had routed with all their soldiers when they threatened us. [illustration: strolling musicians] this time they behaved very decently, the oldest of them showing us every civility, and professing great admiration for our courage in persevering against such heavy odds. the old gentleman did all he could to make us comfortable, and even called up two strolling musicians for our amusement. one man wore a peculiar four-cornered head-dress made of skin. he played with a bow on a two-stringed instrument, while his companion, a child, danced and went through certain clumsy contortions, going round every few minutes with his tongue thrust out to beg for _tsamba_ from the audience. the tibetans are very charitable towards beggars, and not only on this, but on other occasions, i noticed that they seldom refused, no matter however small their donations might be, to give _tsamba_ or pieces of butter or _chura_ to the mendicants. the older musician had a square club passed through his girdle, and at intervals he laid down his instrument, and, using the club as a sword, gave an imitation of a martial dance, exactly like the one i have described as performed by the shokas. every now and then, too, he applied it to the boy's back and head, to inspire him with fresh vigour, and this generally drew roars of laughter from the audience. [illustration: an old beggar] chapter xcvi towards mansarowar--mansing's vision--bathing in mansarowar. the next day, amidst repeated good-byes and professions of friendship on the part of our hosts and jailers, we departed towards mansarowar, and late in the afternoon reached the tucker village and gomba, where we put up at the same _serai_ in which i had slept on my way out. all our bonds were here removed for good, and we enjoyed comparative freedom, though four men walked by my side wherever i went, and an equal number looked after chanden sing and mansing. naturally we were not allowed to go far from the _serai_, but we could prowl about in the village. i took this opportunity to have a swim in the mansarowar lake, and chanden sing and mansing again paid fresh salaams to the gods and plunged in the sacred water. the lamas, who had been so friendly during my former visit, were now extremely sulky and rude; and, after having witnessed our arrival, they all withdrew into the monastery, banging the gate after them. all the villagers, too, hastily retired to their respective houses. the place was deserted with the exception of the soldiers round us. poor mansing, who, worn out and in great pain, was sitting close by me, looking vaguely at the lake, had an extraordinary vision, the result, probably, of fever or exhaustion. "oh, sahib," said he, as if in a dream, though he was quite awake; "look, look! look at the crowd of people walking on the water. there must be more than a thousand men! oh, how big they are getting!... and there is god ... seva.... no, they are tibetans, they are coming to kill us, they are lamas! oh, come, sahib, they are so near.... oh, they are flying...!" i could see that the poor fellow was under an hallucination. his forehead was burning and he was in a high fever. "they have all disappeared!" he exclaimed, as i placed my hand on his forehead and he woke from his trance. he seemed quite stupefied for a few moments; and, on my inquiring of him later whether he had seen the phantom crowd again, he could not remember ever having seen it at all. [illustration: a tibetan shepherd] the natives came to visit us in the _serai_ during the evening, and we had great fun with them, for the tibetans are full of humour and have many comical ways. as for ourselves, now that we were only two marches from taklakot, it was but natural that our spirits were high. only two more days of captivity, and then a prospect of freedom. it was still dark when we were roused and ordered to start. the soldiers dragged us out of the _serai_. we entreated them to let us have another plunge in the sacred mansarowar, and the three of us were eventually allowed to do so. the water was bitterly cold, and we had nothing to dry ourselves with. it was about an hour before sunrise when we were placed on our yaks and, surrounded by some thirty soldiers, rode off. [illustration: interior of a serai] chapter xcvii suna--wilson and the political peshkar across the frontier--a messenger--our progress stopped--diverting us over the lumpiya pass--condemned to certain death--we attack our guard--lapsang and the jong pen's private secretary--a document--nearing kardam--retracing our steps--dogmar. [illustration: tea churn (open)] when we had been marching for several hours, our guard halted to have their tea. a man named suna, and his brother and son, whom i had met in garbyang, halted near us, and from them i heard that news had arrived in india that i and my two men had been beheaded, and that thereupon doctor wilson and the political peshkar karak sing had crossed over the frontier to ascertain the facts, and to attempt to recover my baggage, &c. my joy was intense when i heard that they were still at taklakot. i persuaded suna to return as fast as he could, and to inform wilson that i was a prisoner, and tell him my whereabouts. i had barely given suna this message when our guard seized the man and his brother and roughly dismissed them, preventing them from having any further communication with us. as soon as we were on the march again, a horseman rode up to us with strict orders from the jong pen of taklakot not to let us proceed any farther towards the frontier by the lippu pass, which we could now have reached in two days, but to take us round by the distant lumpiya pass. at this time of the year the lumpiya would be impassable; and we should have to make a further journey of at least fifteen or sixteen days, most of it over snow and ice, during which we, in our starved and weakened state, would inevitably succumb. we asked to be taken into taklakot, but our guard refused, and in the meantime the jong pen of taklakot had sent other messengers and soldiers to ensure the fulfilment of his orders, and to prevent our further progress. our guard, now strengthened by the taklakot men, compelled us to leave the taklakot track, and we began our journey towards the cold lumpiya. this was murder, and the tibetans, well knowing it, calculated on telling the indian authorities that we had died a natural death on the snows. [illustration: a bearer of bad news] we were informed that we should be left at the point where the snows began, that the tibetans would give us no food, no clothes and no blankets, and that we should be abandoned to our own devices. this, needless to say, meant certain death. we determined to stand no more, and to play our last card. after travelling some two and a half miles westward of the taklakot track, we declined to proceed any more in that direction. we said that, if they attempted to force us on, we were prepared to fight our guard, as whether we died by their swords and matchlocks, or frozen to death on the lumpiya, was quite immaterial to us. the guard, in perplexity, decided to let us halt there for the night, so as to have time to send a messenger to taklakot to inform the jong pen, and ask for further instructions. [illustration: a shoka-tibetan half-caste] during the night the order came that we must proceed, so the next morning our guard prepared to start us again towards the lumpiya. then we three semi-corpses collected what little strength remained in us, and suddenly made an attack on them with stones; whereupon, incredible as it may seem, our cowardly guard turned tail and bolted! we went on in the direction of taklakot, followed at a distance by these ruffians, who were entreating us to make no further resistance and to go with them where they wanted us to go. if we did not, they said, they would all have their heads cut off. we refused to listen to them, and kept them away by throwing stones at them. [illustration: sheep loads for borax and grain] we had gone but a few miles when we met with a large force of soldiers and lamas, despatched by the jong pen to prepare for our death. unarmed, wounded, starved and exhausted as we were, it was useless attempting to fight against such odds. as it was, when they saw we were at liberty, they made ready to fire on us. the jong pen's chief minister, a man called lapsang, and the jong pen's private secretary, were at the head of this party. i went to shake hands with them and held a long and stormy palaver, but they kept firm and insisted on our turning away from the frontier, now that we were almost within a stone's-throw of it, and we must perforce proceed by the high lumpiya pass. those were the jong pen's orders, and they, as well as i, must obey them. they would not give us or sell us either animals or clothes which even the small sum of money i had on me would have been sufficient to buy; and they would not provide us with an ounce of food. we emphatically protested, and said we preferred to die where we were. we asked them to kill us then and there, for we would not budge an inch westwards. lapsang and the jong pen's private secretary now cunningly suggested that i should give them in writing the names of the shokas who had accompanied me to tibet, probably with the object of confiscating their land and goods. as i said i could not write tibetan or hindustani, they requested me to do it in english. this i did, but substituting for the names of my men and my signature sarcastic remarks, which must have caused the tibetans some surprise when they had the document translated. as, however, they refused to kill us there and then, and as lapsang showed us great politeness and asked us to go by the lumpiya pass as a personal favour to him, i reluctantly decided to accept their terms rather than waste any more time, now that we were so near british soil. [illustration: a jumli shed] escorted by this large force of men, we had nearly reached kardam when, in the nick of time, a horseman came up at full gallop and hailed our party. we stopped, and the man overtook us and handed lapsang a letter. it contained an order to bring us immediately into taklakot. we retraced our steps along the undulating plateau above the gakkon river, and late at night we reached the village of dogmar, a peculiar settlement in a valley between two high cliffs of clay, the natives of which live in holes pierced in the cliff. [illustration: we attacked our guard with stones] lapsang, the jong pen's private secretary, and the greater portion of their soldiers, having changed their ponies, went on to taklakot; but we were made to halt here, when yet another letter came from the jong pen saying he had changed his mind and we must, after all, go by the lumpiya pass! [illustration: lapsang and the jong pen's private secretary] chapter xcviii a commotion--the arrival of an army--elected general-in-chief--how we were to slaughter the jong pen's soldiers--my men lay down their arms--towards taklakot--delaling and sibling--taklakot at last. during the night there was a great commotion in the place, the people running about and shouting, and a large number of ponies with their riders arriving. tibet is farmed out, so to speak, to officials who have become small feudal kings, and these are generally at logger-heads among themselves. to this regal jealousy, and to disputes over the rights of the road, was due the appearance of this new army. there were altogether some hundred and fifty men armed with matchlocks and swords. the chieftain of this band came to me with eight or ten other officers, and spoke so excitedly that i feared there was trouble in store for us. there was indeed. these new arrivals were officers and soldiers from gyanema, kardam, and barca, and they had come with strict orders from the barca tarjum that we were on no account to traverse his province or to cross by the lumpiya pass. this was very amusing and tantalising, for we had now no way across the frontier open to us. our guard and some of the jong pen's men who had remained behind, finding they were in the minority, thought it prudent to eclipse themselves; and i, anxious as i naturally was to get out of the country as quickly as possible, approved of all that the gyanema men said, and urged them to fight in case the jong pen still insisted on my going through the tarjum's province. all ways out of the country were barred to us, and unless we resorted to force, i felt we would never escape at all. the gyanema men asked me whether i would lead them in case of a fight with the jong pen's soldiers; and i, though not very confident of their courage, accepted the post of general-in-chief _pro tem._, chanden sing and mansing being promoted there and then to be my aides-de-camp. we spent the greater part of the night in arranging our plan of attack on the jong pen's troops, and when all was properly settled, the tibetans, to show their gratitude, brought me a leg of mutton, some _tsamba_, and two bricks of tea. [illustration: jumli trader and his wife in tibet] the morning came, and i was given a fine pony to ride, as were also chanden sing and mansing. then, followed by my tibetan troops--a grand cavalcade--we started gaily towards taklakot. we had been informed that the jong pen was concentrating his men at a certain point on the road to bar our way: and it was this point that we must force. my tibetans said that they hated the jong pen's men, and swore they would slaughter them all if they made any stand. "but they are such cowards," declared one of the tibetan officers, "that they will run away." [illustration: cliff habitations] all this talk stopped suddenly when we heard the distant tinkling of our enemies' horse-bells, and though i encouraged my men as best i could, a panic began to spread among them. the jong pen's men came in sight, and presently i witnessed the strange spectacle of two armies face to face, each in mortal terror of the other. notwithstanding my remonstrances, matchlocks and swords were deposited on the ground with anxious eagerness by both parties, to show that only peaceful intentions prevailed. then a conference was held, in which everybody seemed ready to oblige everybody else except me. while this was still proceeding, a horseman arrived with a message from the jong pen, and at last, to everybody's satisfaction, permission was granted for us to proceed into taklakot. [illustration: chokdens near taklakot] my army retraced its steps towards the north-west, and, deposed from my high military post, which i had occupied only a few hours, i became again a private individual and a prisoner. with a large escort we were taken along the gakkon, by barren cliffs and on a rocky road. we passed hundreds of _chokdens_ large and small, mostly painted red, and _mani_ walls. then, having descended by a precipitous track on whitish clay-soil, we reached a thickly inhabited district, where stone houses were scattered all over the landscape. we saw on our left the large monastery of delaling and, a little way off, the gomba of sibling; then, describing a sweeping curve among stones and boulders, we rounded the high graceful cliff, on the top of which towered the fort and monasteries of taklakot. [illustration: taklakot fort] chapter xcix free at last--among friends--forgetting our past troubles--confiscated baggage returned--a scene with nerba--suna's message delivered--how our release was brought about--across the frontier--photography at gungi. [illustration: pundit gobaria] such was our anxiety, when we reached this point, lest something should happen and we should be taken back again, that, as soon as we were across the wooden bridge over the gakkon, chanden sing and i, on perceiving the large shoka encampment at the foot of the hill, lashed our ponies and ran away from our guard. thus, galloping our hardest along the high cliff, where hundreds of people live in holes in the clay, we found ourselves at last among friends again. the shokas, who had come over to this market to exchange their goods with the tibetans, were astounded when they saw us, recognising us at first with difficulty. we inquired at once, of course, for dr. wilson, and when we found him the good man could, himself, barely recognise us, so changed were we. he seemed deeply moved at seeing our condition. when the news of our arrival spread in camp, we met with the greatest kindness at the hands of everybody. in a corner of wilson's tent was a large quantity of candied sugar--several pounds; and so famished was i that i quickly devoured the lot. later, my shoka friends brought in all kinds of presents in the shape of eatables, which rubso, the doctor's cook, was set to prepare. the political peshkar, karak sing, hurried to me with a change of clothes, and other garments were given me by dr. wilson. my own ragged attire was literally swarming with vermin; our guard had not allowed us a single change of raiment, nor would they even hear of our washing. it was by a very special favour and on account of its sanctity that we were allowed to plunge in the sacred mansarowar lake. later in the day my wounds and injuries were examined by dr. wilson, who sent his reports to the government of india, to the commissioner of kumaon, and to the deputy commissioner at almora. [illustration: dr. wilson] tenderly nursed by wilson and karak sing, and having partaken of plenty of good food, i found my spirits, which had fallen rather low, reviving as if by magic; and, strange to say, after a few hours of happiness, i was already beginning to forget the hardships and suffering i had endured. i remained three days at taklakot, during which time part of my confiscated baggage was returned by the tibetans, and, as can well be imagined, i was overjoyed to discover that among the things thus recovered were my diary, note-books, maps and sketches. my firearms, some money, the ring i have before referred to as having been a gift of my mother, several mathematical instruments, collections, over photographic negatives, and various other articles were still missing,[ ] but i was glad to get back as much as i did. to dr. wilson's tent came the tokchim tarjum, his private secretary nerba, whom the reader may remember as having played an important part in my tortures, the jong pen's secretary, and old lapsang in a fine green velvet coat with ample sleeves. as can be seen by perusing the government enquiry and report in the appendix to this book, the above-mentioned tibetan officers admitted before the political peshkar, dr. wilson, pundit gobaria, and many shokas, that the account i gave of my tortures--identical with the one in these pages--was correct in every detail. they even professed to be proud of what they had done, and used expressions not at all flattering to the british government, which they affected to treat with great contempt. [illustration: karak sing pal, the political peshkar] i nearly got the political peshkar and the doctor into a scrape; for my blood, the little i had left, was boiling with rage at hearing the tibetan insults. the climax came when nerba refused to give back my mother's ring, which he had upon him. in a passion i seized a knife that was lying by me, and leaped upon nerba, the ruffian who, besides, had fired at me and had held me by the hair while my eyes were being burnt prior to my abortive execution. wilson and karak sing seized and disarmed me, but there was a general stampede of the tibetan officers, and thus our interview and negotiations were brought to an abrupt end. [illustration: mansing showing cuts under his feet] in further conversation i now learnt how my release had been brought about. dr. wilson and the political peshkar, having received the news that my servants and myself had been beheaded, proceeded across the frontier to make inquiries and try to recover my property. they heard then from the man suna, whom i had sent from mansarowar with my message, that i was still a prisoner, covered with wounds, in rags and starving. they had not men enough to force their way further into the country to come and meet me; besides, the tibetans watched them carefully; but they, together with pundit gobaria, made strong representations to the jong pen of taklakot, and, by threatening him that an army would be sent up if i were not set at liberty, they at last obtained from the reluctant master of the fort[ ] a permission that i should be brought into taklakot. the permission was afterwards withdrawn, but was at last allowed to be carried into execution, and it is entirely due to the good offices and energy of these three gentlemen that i am to-day alive and safe--though not yet sound. pundit gobaria, who will be remembered as having been mentioned in my early chapters, is the most influential shoka trader in bhot, and on very friendly terms with the tibetans. he was the intermediary through whom negotiations were carried on for my immediate release, and it was largely owing to his advice to the jong pen that they resulted satisfactorily. [illustration: a glance at the forbidden land from the lippu pass] after a brief rest to recover sufficient strength, i recommenced the journey towards india, and, having crossed the lippu pass ( , feet), found myself at last again on british soil. we descended by slow stages to gungi, where, in dr. wilson's dispensary, i had to halt for a few days on account of my weak condition. [illustration: the author--february the author--october ] wilson had here a quantity of my baggage, instruments, cameras, plates, &c., which i had discarded at the beginning of my journey, and i immediately had photographs taken of my two servants and myself, showing our wounds and our shocking general condition. photographs of my feet, taken more than a month after i had been untied from the rack, showed a considerable swelling, as well as the scars, round the ankle and on the foot where the ropes had cut into my flesh. in the full-face photograph here reproduced can be noticed the injuries to my left eye, as well as the marks of the hot iron on the skin of my forehead and nose. chanden sing's legs, which were photographed on the same occasion, though now practically healed, were still much swollen, and the marks can be seen in the illustration where big patches of skin and flesh had been torn away by the lashes, producing nasty wounds. [illustration: chanden sing's legs, showing marks of lashes and wounds healed] [ ] some of the articles missing were some months later recovered by the government of india. see appendix. [ ] jong pen = master of the fort. chapter c civilisation once more--paralysis--the tinker pass in nepal--kindly natives--mr. larkin--government inquiry--back to tibet--final good-bye to the forbidden land--the return journey--farewell to mansing--home again. [illustration: mr. j. larkin] it was really wonderful how soon we began to pick up again under the good care of dr. wilson and the influence of proper food and clothing. when i saw my face for the first time in a looking-glass, i nearly had a fit, so ghastly did it look; but i felt more like myself when i had shaved off my beard of several months' growth; and, after the ever-obliging wilson, with a pair of blunt scissors, had spent a whole afternoon in performing the functions of hairdresser, i began to look almost civilised again. clothes were a great nuisance at first, but i soon got into the way of wearing them. the injuries to my spine were severe, and gave me much trouble. at times the whole of my left side became as if paralysed. besides, i invariably experienced the greatest difficulty in sitting down when i had been standing, and in getting up when i had been sitting down. through the great strain they had undergone, my joints continued stiff and swollen, and remained so for months. i could see comparatively well with my right eye, but was unable to use the left at all. when slightly better i made an excursion to tinker, in nepal, there being a pass in the neighbourhood i had not visited. having crossed into nepal at chongur, i followed a course towards ° (b.m.), until we came to the zirri river, descending precipitously between high snowy ridges. then i kept on the right bank of the tinker river, first through forests of firs, then among barren rocks and along ravines, the track being extremely bad in some places. the general direction was ° (b.m.) until the tinker bridge was reached, by which the stream was crossed, from which point i travelled some three miles to ° (b.m.), and arrived at the tinker village, a few shoka houses perched on the slope of the mountain, having for a background the magnificent snowy peaks dividing nepal from tibet. from the village the track to the pass is easy, first to ° ' (b.m.), as far as the zentim bridge, two miles off, where the dongon river, descending from ° (b.m.), meets the zeyan yangti,[ ] and, following the latter stream for another four miles, one reaches the tinker pass, the distance between here and taklakot being twelve miles. at ° (b.m.) i observed a very high snowy peak, the dongon. [illustration: chanden sing and mansing enjoying their first meal according to the rules of their castes] [illustration: a tibetan temporary shed] having seen all that i wanted to see here i made my way back to garbyang with all speed, as i was anxious to return to europe as soon as possible, and i travelled down to askote in company of peshkar karak sing. the nerpani road had fallen in two or three places, and rough shaky bridges had been constructed across the deep precipices, one of which can be seen in the illustration below. we met with a hearty reception everywhere, and kindness after kindness was showered upon us by all alike. [illustration: a shaky passage on the nerpani road] [illustration: view of askote--showing rajiwar's palace] [illustration: snapshot of shoka villagers being routed] at askote i was the guest of the good old rajiwar, in whose garden i encamped, and who bestowed upon me every conceivable care and attention. mr. j. larkin, hastily despatched by the government of india to conduct an inquiry into my case, met me there, and, though still suffering much pain, i insisted on turning back once more towards tibet, to help him in his task. by quick marches we reached garbyang, where a deputation of shokas, who had returned from tibet, came to me, mr. larkin having gone on ahead. among them i noticed several of the men who had betrayed me, and as i was told that there was no way of punishing them for their treachery, i took justice into my own hands, proceeding with a stout stick to teach them some idea of faithfulness, whereupon the whole village ran up to get the fellows out of my clutches. encouraged by the tibetans, the shokas made some insulting remarks about englishmen; so the fight became general until, ill as i was, and alone against some hundred and fifty men, i succeeded in routing them. the thing might justly be doubted had i not been able to take a snap-shot of them as they fled helter-skelter. [illustration: dr. wilson, myself, mr. larkin, the political peshkar, and jagat sing ready to ascend the lippu pass] soon after leaving garbyang, i overtook mr. larkin, and we climbed towards the snows. we intended crossing over the lippu pass into tibet to give the jong pen an opportunity of being interviewed, but he refused to meet us. [illustration: tinker in nepal] all the same, to give the tibetans every chance, we climbed over the lippu pass. it had been snowing heavily and it was very cold. a shoka had only a few days previously been lost in the snow in trying to cross over, and had been frozen to death. there were some twelve feet of snow, and the ascent was by no means easy. however, after toiling for some two hours we reached the summit of the pass, and i slipped once more across the boundary into tibet. dr. wilson, the political peskhar, jagat sing, and two chaprassis were with us. the illustration in which dr. wilson appears holding an umbrella to shelter himself from the high wind, with mr. larkin and our ponies on his right, and showing also the pile of stones and flying prayers placed there by the shokas and tibetans, was taken by me on the pass. having found a suitable spot where the wind did not cut quite so furiously into our faces, we halted for a considerable time and waited impatiently on the tibetan side of the boundary for the jong pen or his deputies, to whom letters had been sent, to come and meet us; but they did not put in an appearance, so in the afternoon of october i definitely turned my back on the forbidden land. i was still far from well, but was glad indeed at the prospect of seeing england and my friends again. [illustration: on the lippu pass] we returned to our camp, a few hundred feet lower than the pass, where we had left our baggage and our men, who had suffered much from mountain sickness. [illustration: mr. larkin's party and mine halting near the lippu pass] it was at this camp that the accompanying photograph, which represents me bathing at , feet, was taken by mr. larkin. chanden sing, having broken the ice in a stream, poured water from a brass vessel over me, standing, with my feet on snow, in a high wind and with the temperature at ° fahr. i reproduce it to show that even in my reduced condition i was able to stand an unusual degree of cold. as a matter of fact, the water that had been taken from under the ice immediately froze on my shoulders, with the result that in a second i had icicles hanging on each side of my neck and a shawl of ice over my shoulders. [illustration: mr. larkin looking out for the jong pen from the lippu pass] having fulfilled our mission, mr. larkin and i returned by very quick marches to almora; and it was a great satisfaction to me that in conducting the government inquiry in an open court, mr. larkin was able to obtain ample testimony from shokas and tibetans as to my treatment, all of which was duly reported to the government of india, and also to the foreign office and india office in london. a copy of the inquiry and government report will be found in the appendix. [illustration: bathing at , feet] [illustration: dharchula. deserted habitations of shokas] [illustration: "i told you," exclaimed the old savage, "that whoever visits the home of the raots will have misfortune"] winter setting in, the shokas, who had by now all returned from tibet, were beginning to migrate to their winter homes at dharchula, and when we passed the settlement many were already at work repairing the fallen-down roofs of their hibernal habitations. a large number of tibetans with their sheep had also come over to winter in british territory, and their encampments could be seen all along the road wherever there was sufficient grass for their flocks. the tibetans--lamas and officials--maintained a high-handed and insolent demeanour as long as we were in bhot, which they regarded as part of their own country; a fact observed not only by dr. wilson and the political peskhar, who travelled with us up to the frontier and back, as far as askote, but also by mr. larkin, who more than once was astounded at the impudence of tibetans when on british soil. it must, however, be said for them that the moment they had come out of bhot, and had to deal with hindoos instead of shokas, their manner changed considerably. hypocritical deference and servility replaced haughtiness and insolence. near the frontier we encountered hundreds of yaks and ponies laden with wood which the tibetans cut from our forests, and compel our natives to take across into tibet for the consumption of those tibetans who do not come over to our side to spend the winter. at askote the old raot who had predicted ill-luck for me when i visited the raots' dwelling, came to remind me of his prophecy. "i told you," exclaimed the old savage, "that whoever visits the home of the raots will have misfortune," and i photographed the old scoundrel on the spot, together with his mates, who listened with satisfaction to the words that came from the lips of their prophet. [illustration: a picturesque bit of almora] we proceeded with no delay to almora, and from there went straight on to naini tal, the summer seat of the government of the north-west provinces and oudh, where a conference was held on my case by the lieutenant-governor. having there enjoyed the unbounded hospitality of that able and energetic officer, colonel grigg, commissioner of kumaon, i paid off my faithful coolie mansing, giving him enough for a start in life. he accompanied me to kathgodam, the terminus of the railway, and showed genuine grief when chanden sing and i stepped into the train. as we steamed away from the platform, he salaamed me affectionately, having previously begged that, if ever i should go back to tibet, i would take him with me; only next time he too must be provided with a rifle! that was the only condition. chanden sing, who remained as my servant, travelled with me to bombay, and from there we went direct to florence, the home of my parents, who had suffered in their anxiety at home almost as much as i did in the forbidden land. [illustration: raots listening to the account of my misfortunes] [illustration: south-western tibet] [ ] yangti = river. appendix _letter from_ sir william lee warner, c.s.i., _political and secret department, india office, london._ [illustration: "_honi soi. qui mal y pense._"] india office, whitehall, s.w. _august_ , . dear sir, with reference to the request contained in your letter of the th, and to your interview with me of the same day i forward herewith for your use a copy of mr. larkin's "inquiry and report" into your treatment by the tibetans. yours faithfully, (signed) w. lee warner. a. henry savage landor, esq. * * * * * government report by j. larkin, esq., magistrate of the first class. mr. arnold henry savage landor having been reported to have been captured and tortured by the tibetans, i was sent up to garbyang in byans to ascertain the facts. mr. landor arrived in india on the th of april last. he proceeded to almora, where he arrived on the th idem. he stayed there until the th of may, to make arrangements for his travels in tibet. at first he was advised to take some gurkha soldiers with him, but this fell through, as the military did not accede to his request. he then, on the th may, arrived in garbyang in byans _patti_. it appears to have been his intention to have entered tibet by the lippu lek pass. this is the easiest, being about , feet above sea level. it is the most frequented route taken by the traders of byans and chaudans, and is adjacent to taklakot, a mart for wool, salt, borax, grain, &c. he was, however, frustrated in this, inasmuch as the jong pen of taklakot came to know of mr. landor's intention and took steps to prevent it. he caused bridges to be destroyed and stationed guards along the route. moreover, he appears to have been kept fully cognisant of mr. landor's moves through the agency of his spies in garbyang. under these circumstances mr. landor was compelled to resort to some other route, and selected the lumpia pass, which stands at an altitude of , feet. on the th july last, mr. landor, with a following of thirty men, entered tibet. he reached gyanima, where he was stopped by the barkha tarjum. this personage, however, after some persuasion, consented to permit mr. landor and seven followers to go forward to the mansarowar lake. next day the accorded permission was withdrawn, and mr. landor and his party were turned back. the party returned three marches, when mr. savage landor determined to go to mansarowar by the unfrequented wilds. on the st july, mr. landor, with nine followers, at midnight in a terrific snowstorm, climbed up the mountain and went off, the bulk of his party continuing their retreat to the lumpia lek. by this strategic move mr. landor baffled the tibetan guards (chaukidárs). he carefully avoided coming into contact with any of the inhabitants, and in order to do so was obliged to keep to the high mountains and unfrequented wilds. travelling thus, with the aid of his compass, sextant and sketch maps, he reached mansarowar. here five of his followers declined to accompany him any farther, so he paid and dismissed them. this was at tucker. thus mr. landor was reduced to a following of four men. he went on, however, and had accomplished but three marches more when two more of his followers deserted him at night. these went off with some of his supplies, all his servants' food, and ropes. mr. landor was now reduced to the following of a bearer (chanden sing) and a coolie (mansing). despite his misfortunes he determined to push on: his intention appears to have been to reach lhassa. he went over the mariam la pass.[ ] this attains an altitude of over , feet. meanwhile the deserters had bruited about the information of mr. landor's intention of getting to lhassa. while crossing the nio tsambo river one of mr. landor's yaks went under. the yak was saved, but its valuable load, consisting of all the tinned provisions, rs. in cash, three pairs of shoes, one slaughtered sheep, wearing apparel, razors, skinning instruments, and some three hundred rifle cartridges, was lost. this accident was directly the cause of mr. landor's capture, as he and his two followers, who were footsore, starving, and disheartened, were driven to seek food and horses from the inhabitants of the country. on the th of august they went to a place called toxem. the villagers received them well and promised to supply them with food and horses. next morning, the th idem, a number of tibetans came to mr. landor's tent bringing food and ponies. while mr. landor and his servants were engaged trying and selecting ponies, the crowd increased and came up behind its three victims. suddenly, without any warning, the tibetans rushed on mr. landor and his two servants, and overwhelming them by numbers, made prisoners of them. they cruelly bound their surprised victims. then a number of soldiers (who had lain in ambush) arrived and took over the prisoners. the first person to be dealt with was the bearer chanden sing. he was accused of having taken his master into tibet. he was questioned as to this, and also as to the maps and sketches found with mr. landor's things. i may mention that when the arrests were made the tibetans took all of mr. landor's property, which they handled very roughly, damaging most of the things. hearing the tibetans accuse the bearer, mr. landor called out that his servant was in no way responsible for his having entered tibet. thereupon a lama struck him (mr. landor) a blow on the head with the butt-end of his riding-whip. chanden sing was then tied down and flogged. he received two hundred lashes with whips, wielded by two lamas. then the prisoners were kept apart for the night, bound with cords. next day mr. landor was placed on a horse, seated on a spiked pack-saddle. mansing was put on a bare-backed horse. they still were bound. mr. landor's arms were secured behind his back. thus they were taken off at a gallop towards galshio. when the party were nearing that place they came up with a party of lamas, awaiting them by the roadside. here mr. landor's horse was whipped and urged to the front. a kneeling soldier, his musket resting on a prop, fired at mr. landor as he went past. the shot failed to take effect. then they stopped the pony and fastened a long cord to mr. landor's handcuffs. the other end was held by a soldier on horseback. the party then continued their career, the lamas having fallen in. while proceeding at full gallop, the horseman who held the cord attached to mr. landor's handcuffs, pulled hard at it to try and unhorse the latter. had this occurred mr. landor must have been trampled to death under the troop of horsemen behind him. thus they hurried onward till they neared galshio,[ ] when at a turn in the road a soldier was seen kneeling at the "ready," who fired a shot at mr. landor as he came abreast of him. this, like the previous shot, missed its object. arriving at galshio, mr. landor was torn off his pony. he was in a bleeding state, the spikes in the pack-saddle having severely wounded his back. he asked for a few minutes' respite, but was jeeringly told by his guards that it was superfluous, as he was to be beheaded in a few minutes. he was then taken, his legs stretched as far as they could be forced apart, and then tied to the sharp edge of a log shaped like a prism. the cords were bound so tightly that they cut into the flesh. then a person named nerba, the secretary of the tokchim tarjum, seized mr. landor by the hair of his head, and the chief official, termed the _pombo_, came up with a red-hot iron, which he placed in very close proximity to mr. landor's eyes. the heat was so intense that for some moments mr. landor felt as if his eyes had been scorched out. it had been placed so close that it burned his nose. the _pombo_ next took a matchlock, which he rested on his victim's forehead and then discharged upwards. the shock was consequently very much felt. handing the empty gun to an attendant soldier, the _pombo_ took a two-handed sword. he laid the sharp edge on the side of his victim's neck as if to measure the distance to make a true blow. then wielding the sword aloft, he made it whiz past mr. landor's neck. this he repeated on the other side of the neck. after this tragic performance mr. landor was thrown to the ground and a cloth put over his head and face to prevent his seeing what was being done to his servant mansing. this must have been done to make mr. landor believe that mansing was being executed. after a short time the cloth was removed and mr. landor beheld his servant, with his legs stretched, tied to the same log. mr. landor was kept for twenty-four hours in this trying position, legs stretched as far as possible and arms bound to a pole, and mansing for twelve hours. to add to their misery they were kept in the rain and were afterwards seated in a pool of water. the effect of this torture was to strain the muscles of the legs and arms and injure the spine. when mr. landor's legs were unloosed from their cords, they were so numbed and swollen that for sixteen hours he did not recover the use of them and feared they were mortifying. mr. landor's property was overhauled by the officials of galshio and sealed up. on the afternoon of the third day at galshio, the two prisoners were taken on foot to toxem. it was a very trying march, inasmuch as several rivers had to be crossed. on his arrival at toxem, mr. landor saw his bearer chanden sing in a very precarious condition, as the latter had had no food for four days. during all this time the prisoners were firmly bound and carefully guarded. next day, mr. landor and chanden sing were placed on yaks. mansing had to walk. thus they were taken in the direction of mansarowar lake. it was only on arrival at mansarowar that his guards unbound mr. landor. arriving at dogmar the party was stopped by the jong pen of taklakot, who refused to give them passage through his district. this was a very serious affair, as it meant that the worn-out prisoners would have to be taken by a long circuitous route _viâ_ gyanima and into india by the lumpia pass. this would probably have done for them. owing to the intervention of the rev. harkua wilson, of the methodist episcopal mission, _peshkár_ kharak sing pal and pundit gobaria, the most influential person among the bhutias[ ] of byans, the jong pen was compelled to withdraw his prohibition and give his sanction to the prisoners being conveyed to taklakot. arriving at this place the prisoners were hospitably received by the rev. harkua wilson, who is also a medical man. he examined their injuries and attended to them. his statement discloses the dreadful condition he found them in. the tibetan guards made over some of mr. landor's property to him at taklakot. it was then found that much property had not been restored. mr. landor had a list drawn up from memory of his unrestored property. this list (a copy) was handed to the jong pen of taklakot. i append the list. the jong pen has been called upon to restore the missing articles. he urges that the affair did not occur in his district, and that he is in no way responsible for the loss of the property. he has, however, promised to try to recover them, alleging that the affair has been reported to a superior authority at gartok. from what i could gather here, it seems probable that all the missing property, save the money, will be restored. i tried to see the jong pen, but he pleaded illness, and the inutility of a meeting in which he had nothing new to disclose. this personage is notorious in these parts for his implacable hatred to english subjects. the account of the affair as given by mr. savage landor is fully borne out by his two servants, and, moreover, the tibetans who took part in it did not try to hide it. in the rev. harkua wilson's tent at taklakot, before _peshkár_ kharak sing, gobaria and a large number of bhutias, several tibetan officials corroborated the whole account as related by mr. landor. the man nerba, who had held mr. landor's hair when about to be beheaded and have his eyes burnt out, admitted he had taken such part in the affair. there can be no doubt that the above account is true and unexaggerated, for the whole of byans and chaudans are ringing with it. the jong pen of taklakot was given ample opportunity to explain the affair, but he declined to do so. mr. savage landor held chinese passports, and his conduct during his stay in that country did not warrant the officials to have treated him in the barbarous, cruel way they did. i satisfied myself, by careful inquiry from the people here, as to how mr. landor behaved. he is said to have been most munificent in his dealings with all, and invariably affable and courteous. i had seen mr. landor just before his entry into tibet, and when i met him i could scarcely recognise him, though he had then fairly recovered from the terrible treatment he had received. i saw the marks of the cords on his hands and feet, and they are still visible after this lapse of time. he complains that he is still suffering from the injury done his spine, and fears that it may be of a permanent nature. j. larkin. _october_ , . [sidenote: all communications to government should give the no., date and subject of any previous correspondence, and should note the department quoted.] ------ no. n. a. of . _from_ the under-secretary to government, n.-w. province and oudh. _to_ a. h. savage landor, esq., c/o messrs. grindlay, groom & co., bankers, bombay. _dated_ allahabad, _november_ , . [sidenote: political department.] sir, in reply to your letter of november , i am desired to send you a printed copy of depositions recorded by mr. larkin as noted below: . of yourself; . of chanden sing; . of man sing; . of rev. harkua wilson; . of pundit gobaria; . of kharak sing; . of suna i have the honour to be, sir, your most obedient servant, h. n. wright, _under-secretary to government, north-western_ _provinces and oudh. n.m._ almora district. in the court of j. larkin, esq., magistrate of the st class. _in re_ the matter of the tortures, robbery, &c., of a. henry savage landor, esq., and his servants, by the thibetan authorities. deposition of mr. a. henry savage landor; _taken on the th day of october . oath administered by me._ my name is arnold henry savage landor; my father's name is charles savage landor; i am by caste european. british subject; by occupation artist and traveller; my home is at empoli (calappiano), police station empoli, district florence, tuscany, italy; i reside at london. having made up my mind to travel in turkistan and tibet, for geographical and scientific purposes as well as to study the manners and customs of those people, i obtained a british passport from the foreign office and one from the chinese legation in london. i had already a passport granted me by the chinese government through the british consul at tientsin, china. i also possess letters from lord salisbury and the officials of the british museum. i am prepared to submit all these for scrutiny. i arrived in india by the p. and o. ss. _peninsular_ about the beginning of april. i travelled rapidly up to almora. i stayed there a short time to make arrangements for my travels in tibet. i entered that country through the lumpia lek. i kept away from the road and paths, passing over several ranges of high mountains, camping at very high altitudes, for nearly three weeks. when i started i had thirty men with me. twenty-one of them left me when i was only five days in. at mansarowar lake five shokas declined to go any farther. i paid them up and they left. it was they who gave the lamas of tucker information of my intention to go to lhassa. i had proceeded but three marches towards the maium la pass when my only two remaining shokas deserted during the night. they carried off all my stock of provisions for my hindu servants, ropes, straps, &c. my party had now dwindled down to chanden sing (bearer) and man sing (coolie). the latter was ill; i fear he is developing leprosy. his feet were in a very sore and cut condition, hence he could scarcely get along. i went over the maium pass and followed the course of the brahmaputra river for many troublesome marches, until we reached the neo tsambo (river), in crossing which one of my yaks sank and its load went down and was lost. i tried hard, by diving and swimming in this very cold and rapid river, to recover my goods, but failed to do so, owing to the depth and muddiness of the water. the load contained all my provisions, some clothes, and all my shoes, cash rupees eight hundred, my lantern, some ammunition, and sundry knives and razors. this misfortune drove me to toxem, which place we reached in a state of starvation. it had taken us several days to get there. owing to the weak, fatigued, and starved condition of my two followers, i had to seek to get them food and horses, as it was impossible for them to get on without horses. i would not desert them, as i might have, as i was still prepared to push on despite the many difficulties i had to encounter hourly. toxem consisted of one mud house and an encampment of about eighty tents. the shepherds received us kindly and consented to sell me horses and provisions. i encamped for the night about two miles beyond the settlement. during the evening several persons visited my encampment, bringing me gifts of provisions. i invariably gave them money in return, certainly three or four times more than the value of the articles presented. during the night i was disturbed several times, and went out into the darkness, but failed to discover any one. this, however, was my nightly experience; hence i grew to attach little moment to these noises. in the morning (august ), two or three thibetans came offering to sell me provisions and ponies. while i and my two servants were engaged examining and selecting ponies, i noticed that numbers of villagers came up one by one, spinning their wool or carrying bags of _tsamba_ (meal), while others arrived with more ponies. my servants, overjoyed at the hope of getting mounts, rode first one pony and then another to suit themselves, chanden sing, having selected one, called me to see it and try it. i walked to the spot, which was about a hundred yards from my tent. naturally i was unarmed. the demeanour of these people had been so friendly that it gave me no cause to suspect that any treachery was anticipated. while i stood with my hands behind my back, enjoying the delight of my long-suffering servants, i was suddenly seized from the back by several persons. i was seized simultaneously by the neck, arms, wrists, and legs, and was thrown down in a prone position. i fought and struggled and managed to shake off some of my captors, so that i was able to regain my feet; but others rushed up and i was quickly surrounded and overpowered by twenty-five or thirty persons. ropes were thrown round my neck, legs and body, and thus entangled, i was thrown three several times more to the ground. i fought with my head, teeth, legs, arms, and succeeded in regaining my legs four times. they overcame me at last by strangling me with the rope which they had thrown round my neck. then they bound me hand, foot, and neck. when i had an opportunity to look round, i saw chanden sing struggling against some fifteen or twenty foes. he was quickly entangled, thrown, and secured by ropes. even man sing, the weak and jaded coolie, was overcome by four stout powerful men, though he was not able to offer any resistance. he, too, was bound. while we were struggling against our treacherous foes, some person gave a signal--a shrill whistle--which brought up an ambush of four hundred armed soldiers. these soldiers took up a position round us and covered us with their muskets. then they searched us and rifled us of any things we had in our pockets. they next proceeded to my tent and took possession of everything i possessed. they sealed up my things in bags subsequent to having overhauled and examined them. then with shouts and hisses they led us prisoners to toxem. there we were separated, being placed in separate tents. guards of many armed soldiers were placed to watch us. in the afternoon of the same day a _pombo_ (a man in authority), with several high lamas and military officers, held a court under a gaudy tent. i saw chanden sing led forward to this court. i was led to the rear of the mud-house to preclude my witnessing the scene. i heard chanden sing being interrogated in a loud angry tone and accused of having been my guide. next i heard chanden sing's moans and groans. then a company of soldiers led me before this tribunal. i was ordered to kneel, and as i would not do so, they tried to compel me to do so by forcing me on my knees. i succeeded in maintaining a standing posture. then i beheld my servant chanden sing lying down, stripped from the waist downwards, in the midst of a number of lamas and soldiers. i saw two stalwart lamas, one on each side of him, castigating him with knotted leather thongs. they were laying on him with vigorous arms from his waist to his feet. he was bleeding. as i could not be compelled to kneel, i was allowed to sit down before the _pombo's_ officer. then my note-books and printed maps were produced, and i was interrogated, first as to the route i had taken, then as to why i had drawn my maps and sketches. i explained as best i could, partly through my servant chanden sing and partly through an interpreter (a person who styled himself a gurkha and who knew a little hindustani. he wore the garb of the tibetan). i explained to the officers that chanden sing, my servant, did not know the route or anything about the maps and sketches; that i had brought him as my servant, and that i alone was responsible for the route taken by me, and for the maps and sketches; that my servant was not to be punished; that i should be if anybody was punishable. thereupon one of the lamas struck me a hard blow on the head with the butt-end of his riding-crop, and they continued to castigate my servant chanden sing. i was led away captive, but nevertheless heard the moans of my unfortunate servant. it began raining heavily, and i was taken to a tent, where i was cruelly bound. soldiers were placed within and without the tent to guard me. i was thus kept the greater part of the night with my arms manacled behind my back and my legs bound. i was so bound that rest or sleep was impossible. the tent was swarming with vermin, which quickly covered me; and i may here remark that i suffered unspeakable tortures from this pest all the time i was in captivity, as i was never permitted to wash, bathe, or change my clothes. in the tent my guard lighted a fire of yak's dung, and the tent was filled with a suffocating smoke, which well-nigh choked me. i was placed near a heap of this stinking fuel. i must say that it was a night full of indescribable misery for me. though i was fasting all that day and night, yet my cruel jailers gave me no food. i was thus kept a prisoner the following day until about or p.m. then a soldier entered the tent and informed me that i was to be flogged, my legs broken, my eyes burnt out, and then beheaded. i merely laughed at him; i could not but think that this was said merely to intimidate me. half an hour later another person arrived and signalled to my guard to lead me out. not considering me sufficiently secure already, they tightened my bonds and tied others round my body. in this fashion i was taken to the sole house (mud one) in the encampment. here an enormous pair of heavy handcuffs were put on my hands, which were still kept behind my back. even in this the treachery of my captors was shown, for they patted me on the back and called me a good man and told me i was to be taken back to taklakot. this they said fearing i would resist. then, after locking the handcuffs, they made the key over to one person, who rode away quickly with it lest i might possibly manage to get the key and unlock my handcuffs. for this reason i was never permitted to see or know who carried the key. just then i heard the voice of my servant, chanden sing, calling to me in a very weak tone. he said: "_hazur! hazur! hum murjaiega!_" i endeavoured to get to the poor wretch's assistance. upon my trying to move towards him my several guards sprang upon me and ruthlessly grappled me and threw me on to the back of a horse. i could only call aloud to my poor servant that i was being taken to taklakot that day, and that he would be brought after me the following day. i noticed that chanden sing was roughly seized and hurled back into one of the rooms of the house, so that we could hold no conversation. my other servant, man sing, had his arms pinioned, and he was put on a bare-backed pony. the saddle of the horse i had been thrown upon is worthy of description. it was merely the wooden frame of a very high-backed saddle. from this high projecting back or crupper four or five sharp iron spikes were sticking out. these caught me on the small of my back. my guard was then augmented by some twenty or thirty mounted soldiers with muskets and swords. my pony was held by a horseman, who rode before me. we set off at a furious gallop. thus we travelled for miles until we arrived at a spot where the _pombo_ with a following of lamas, banner-men, and soldiers, some two hundred in all, were drawn up. here my pony was allowed to go on first, and the others reined up and drew aside. as i passed before the _pombo_ and his following a person named nerba (the private secretary of the tokchim tarjum) deliberately knelt and fixed his musket on its rest and fired at me from a few paces. the bullet whizzed past me: i was still at a gallop, which no doubt saved my life, as the marksman could not take a steady aim. my pony took fright and reared and plunged, but i maintained my seat, though i was being cruelly pricked by the spikes in the crupper. my pony was then seized and a long cord with a swivel at the end was fastened to my handcuffs. the cord was about fifty yards long. the other end was held by a horseman. in this way we all set off at a hard gallop, and in order to accelerate the speed, a horseman rode by my side and he lashed my pony furiously to make it go at its hardest; meanwhile the horseman who held the cord did his utmost to pull me out of the saddle, so that i would have of a certainty been trampled to death by the cohort behind me. while thus riding furiously with my arms extended backwards i had the flesh rubbed off my hands and knuckles, so much so that the bone was exposed in places, and as the horseman at the back tugged to get me off and i clung hard with my knees, every tug brought me into forcible contact with the spikes in the crupper and wounded me cruelly. the cord was one made of yak's hair. it was strong, but it eventually gave way. the shock unhorsed the soldier. i was all but thrown. this ludicrous incident provoked much mirth among my guards. they stopped my pony and the runaway steed of the dismounted cavalier. the cord was retied with sundry strong knots, and after an interruption of a few minutes we resumed our breakneck gallop, i being in front. when nearing galshio, and as i was going round the curve of a sandhill, a soldier, who had been posted in ambush, fired a shot at me from a few paces distant. the shot did not strike me. this incident did not stop our headlong career, and we continued on until we arrived at galshio about sunset. this was the st august last. at this place there is a large monastery on the crown of a low hill. at some distance from the base of the hill, and on the plain, was pitched the large white tent of the _pombo_. our cavalcade drew up there. i was then roughly torn out of my saddle by two or three men. i requested to stop for one moment. my captors refused me this and, roughly thrusting me forward, said that, as i was about to be beheaded in an instant, it was unnecessary. i was hustled to the left front of the tent, where, on the ground, lay a log of wood in the shape of a prism. upon the sharp edge of it i was made to stand. i was held by the body by several persons, while others pulled my legs as wide apart as they could be stretched. then my feet were very securely tied by cords of yak-hair. the cords were so tight that they cut into the flesh in numerous places, some of the cuts or wounds being about three inches long. when i was thus secured one ruffian (nerba), whom i have alluded to above, came forward and seized me by the hair of my head. he pulled my hair as hard as he could. my hair was long, as i had not had it cut since the day preceding my departure from london about the middle of march. the others formed up in front of me in a semicircle. then the _pombo_ arose and was handed a bar of iron, which had been made red hot in a brazier, the end grasped by the _pombo_ being bound round with red cloths. he strode up to me, urged on by the lamas, and said jeeringly that as i had gone to see the country, my punishment would be to have my eyes burnt out. this was in allusion to what i had said at toxem, viz.--that i was a traveller and merely wished to see the country. he then placed the red-hot bar of iron parallel to and about an inch and a half or two inches from my eyeballs, and all but touching the nose. the heat was so intense that it seemed as if my eyes were desiccated and my nose scorched. there is still a mark of the burn on my nose. i was forced to shut my eyes instinctively. he seemed to me to have kept the bar of heated iron before my eyes for fully thirty seconds or so. after some moments i opened my eyes and beheld the hot iron on the ground. i saw him take a musket from the hands of one of the soldiers standing by. he placed this against my forehead and discharged it upwards, giving me a severe shock, though nothing worse. handing back the discharged weapon to the soldier, the _pombo_ seized a long two-handed sword and came at me. he swung it from side to side, all the time foaming from his mouth. this foaming, i believe, was produced artificially. he then motioned to the man who all this time held me by the hair of my head to bend my neck. i resisted with all my might to keep my head erect. then the _pombo_ touched my neck with the sharp blade of his sword as if to measure the distance for a clean, effective stroke. then he raised the sword and made a blow at me with all his might. the sword passed disagreeably close to my neck, but did not touch me. i did not flinch; and my cool indifferent demeanour seemed to impress him, so much so that he seemed reluctant to continue his diabolical performance, but the _posse_ of lamas urged him on by gesticulations and vociferous shouts. thereupon he went through the same performance on the other side of my neck. this time the blade passed so near that i felt that the blow had not been more than half an inch from my neck. this terminated the sword exercise, much to the disgust of the lamas, who still continued to urge the swordsman on. then they held an excited consultation. about this time my coolie, man sing, who had frequently fallen off his bare-backed pony, arrived. the person who held my hair then relinquished his hold, and another person came up and gave me a forcible push, which gave me a nasty fall on my back, straining all the tendons of my legs. then my servant man sing was brought forward and tied by his legs to the same log of wood to which i was fastened. then they made it appear that they were going to behead man sing. i was pushed up into a sitting posture and a cloth thrown over my head and face, so that i could not see what was being enacted. i heard man sing groan, and i concluded he had been despatched. i was left in this terrible suspense for about a quarter of an hour. then the cloth was removed, and i beheld my servant lying before me bound to the log. we both asked for food. this seemed to amuse our torturers, for they laughed. in the meanwhile the day was beginning to wane, and our jailers made us understand that our execution was merely put off to the following day. after some time _tsamba_ (meal) and tea, were brought in, and it was stuffed into our mouths by our captors. we were kept out in the open without any shelter from the pouring rain. we were sitting in one or two inches of rain and were drenched and numbed with cold. i have already said my hands were manacled from the back; so also were man sing's. but at nightfall our captors increased our tortures by straining our manacled arms upwards as high as they could be forced, and then secured them to an upright pole at the back. this caused very severe pain, straining the spine in an incredible way. then they tied a cord from man sing's neck to mine, the effect of which was to make us maintain a most painful position. a guard encircled us, and with them were two watch-dogs tied to pegs. the guard were apparently so confident of our not being able to escape, that they drew their heavy blankets over their heads and slept. one of them left his sword lying by his side. this made me conceive the plan to try to escape. knowing the extremely supple nature of my hands, i succeeded in drawing the right hand out of my handcuffs. after an hour's anxious and stealthy work i managed to unloose man sing's bonds round his feet. in his joy at feeling partly free, man sing moved his legs rather clumsily, which the vigilant watch-dogs detected and gave the alarm by barking. the guard were aroused. they went and fetched lights and examined our fastenings. i had succeeded in replacing my hand inside the handcuff. they found man sing's bonds loose and, giving him a few cuts with a whip, warned him that if he undid them again they would decapitate him, and refastened them. then they placed the light between us and put a shelter overhead to prevent the rain extinguishing the light. at about or a.m. the following day they undid man sing's feet. i was kept all that day until sunset in the same uncomfortable and painful posture. thus i was kept fully twenty-four hours. during the day my property had been overhauled and sealed. one of the lamas picked up my martini-henry rifle and put a cartridge in the breach, but failed to push it home firmly. he then discharged the gun. the muzzle of the barrel burst and the face of the lama was much injured thereby. i laughed heartily at this, and this apparently amused the _pombo_, for he, too, joined in. about half an hour after this incident my feet were untied. it was then sunset. i found i had lost the use of my feet. it took my right foot some two or three hours before the blood began to circulate freely, but my left foot remained like dead until the following day. that night my feet were secured by cords. a bowl of some boiling steaming liquid, which i was informed was tea, was presented to me to drink. the eagerness of the surrounding lamas that i should partake of it aroused my suspicion. when it was pushed up to my lips i merely sipped it and declined it. after a short time i felt most sharp, excruciating, pains in my stomach, which continued for several days. i could not but conclude that the drink proffered had been poisoned. the following day man sing and i were led back on foot to toxem, our jailers riding on horses. we had to go at a great speed despite our severely lacerated feet. we crossed several cold streams, sinking in mud and water to the waist. at toxem, to my great delight, i beheld chanden sing still alive. we were detained there for that night. on the following day we were placed on yaks' backs and hurried off towards taklakot. thus we journeyed at an unpleasantly fast pace for fifteen days, from before daybreak to nightfall. our guards were bent on taking us _viâ_ the lumpiya pass; but as this meant a long protracted journey of fifteen or sixteen days, over ice and snow, i knew that we would, in our starved, weakened state, succumb. we were all but naked. this was a day's journey on this side of mansarowar, where our bonds had been unloosed. we rebelled, and it well-nigh ended in a fight, but our guards consented to halt at dogmar, until they sent to inquire if the jong pen of taklakot would give us passage through his jurisdiction. after much demur we were eventually taken to taklakot. this arrangement, i subsequently learnt, was entirely due to the good offices and energy of the _political peshkár_ kharak sing pal, rev. h. wilson, and pundit gobaria. on arriving at taklakot we hastened to rev. harkua wilson's tent, where we were warmly received, attended to, fed, and clothed. my injuries were examined by the rev. harkua wilson, who is a hospital assistant, and who will be able to depose to their nature and extent. in this gentleman's tent, and in the hearing of several persons, among whom were _peshkár_ kharak sing, rev. h. wilson, and pundit gobaria, the man nerba, above mentioned, the toxem tarjum, and the jong pen's secretary, and also lapsang, chief secretary to the jong pen, admitted that my account of the affair was perfectly true. some of my property, more or less damaged, was then restored me by the tokchim tarjum. i then gave him two lists, one showing articles restored me, and the other the articles missing. the _peshkár_, kharak sing, has copies of the lists. i was in a very weak state, very exhausted through what i had suffered and little food. it was due to the kind, liberal, and attentive care and treatment of the rev. h. wilson and _peshkár_ kharak sing pal that i recovered. the few ragged clothes i had on were literally swarming with lice, as i had no change of raiment, nor was i ever allowed to wash. i contracted the vermin from the tents i was kept in and also from my guards who at first slept round me. read over to witness. a. henry savage landor. j. larkin. deposition of chanden sing, _taken on the th day of october . solemn affirmation administered by me._ my name is chanden sing; my father's name is bije singh; i am by caste thatola; thirty-two years of age; by occupation _kheti_; my home is at that, police station bisot, district almora. i took service as a bearer with mr. landor at almora on the th or th april last. i accompanied him on his trip to tibet. we went along through the wilds, encountering many hardships and reached toxem. there i insisted on my master buying ponies to take us to darjeeling. this resulted in our capture, for up to then we had vigilantly kept away from the people. the people who brought us ponies to buy played us false. they informed the authorities, who sent soldiers, who lay in ambush behind the sandhills until the crowd of horse dealers and lookers-on, whom we did not suspect of treachery, surrounded and seized us. we were bound with cords by the arms (at back) and legs. my master was more cruelly tied than we two servants. we were taken to the rája,[ ] who accused me of having brought my master into the country. i was then stretched out and two strong men with whips inflicted two hundred stripes on me. i was questioned as to the maps. my master called out that he, not i, alone understood them, and asked that i should not be beaten. thereupon a lama struck him across the head and removed him to a distance, so that i could not communicate with him. they took all our property. then we were kept separate for the night. i was put in a room and my hands tied to a pole. i could not sleep with the pain i was in. next day my master, with his hands tied behind his back, was put on a spiked saddle and tied by a long rope held by a horseman. he went at a gallop surrounded by about fifty horsemen armed with guns and swords. man sing, our coolie, was also taken with him. my guards informed me my master was to be decapitated at galshio, and that i was to be beheaded where i was. on the fourth or fifth day my master returned. meanwhile i was a close prisoner, bound up without food. when i saw my master he was in a pitiful state. he was handcuffed with enormous cuffs, clothes torn to rags, bleeding from his waist, feet and hands swollen. next day a guard on horseback took us back, bound as we were, on yaks' backs, towards mansarowar. there i had my cords unloosed. my master was kept bound until we got to tangchim. we were eventually taken to taklakot, where the rev. harkua wilson met us and saw our condition. he attended to our wants. my master was well-nigh at death's door. the tibetans returned some of my master's property, but they have kept about rupees in cash, two rifles, revolver, two files, a lot of soap, medicine, a butterfly dodger, matches, a box of mathematical instruments, a quantity ( ) cartridges, a large box of photographic plates and negatives, three bags. we did not molest any one, and paid more than four times the value for any food we bought. read over to witness. j. larkin. deposition of man sing, _taken on the th day of october . solemn affirmation administered by pandit krishnanand._ my name is man sing; my father's name is sohan sing; i am by caste pharswal; twenty-five years of age; by occupation _kheti_; my home is at sileri, police station bichla kattyur, district almora. i accompanied mr. savage landor into tibet. we were surrounded and arrested at toxem while bargaining and selecting ponies. i was tied up hand and foot, and again tied to a log of wood with my master. when i begged for mercy, they threatened to behead me and struck me on the head with the handle of a _kukri_. we were taken to galshio. there the tibetans were on the point of beheading my master. they tried to burn out his eyes. they fired at him twice to kill him. they tried to pull him off his horse to have him trampled upon. he was subjected to many insults and hardships. we were kept bound and guarded until brought to mansarowar. there our hands were untied. chanden sing was with us. he received about two to three hundred lashes at toxem. i got off most lightly, as when the three of us were captured and examined, i said i was merely the yak driver and not responsible for anything. i lost nothing, but they took my master's property--three firearms, some money, and other things; i cannot enumerate them. we were brought back to taklakot, where we met friends. my master was made to sit on a spiked saddle and taken from toxem to galshio. read over to witness. j. larkin. deposition of the rev. harkua wilson, _taken on the th day of october . oath administered by me._ my name is harkua wilson. by caste christian; forty-six years of age; by occupation missionary; my home is at dwarahat, police station m. dwara, district almora. i reside at gunji, byans. i am a missionary in the american methodist episcopal society. my work is in the northern _pattis_ or bhot. i accompanied mr. savage landor in july last as far as gyanima in tibet. we went through the lumpiya pass. it took us four days from lumpiya to get to gyanima. at this place the barkha tarjam declined to allow me to go on, but he allowed mr. landor (who was said to be my brother) with four porters and three servants to go on; but the following day he withdrew this permission. we then returned three marches. at midnight in a snowstorm mr. landor went up the mountains, determining to go through tibet by the wilds. he had with him nine followers. he was then in perfect health and strength, and so were his followers. at the end of august i heard that mr. landor had been arrested, and, fearing the tibetans would kill him, i hastened to taklakot to do my utmost to save him. there i learnt that mr. landor and his two servants were being brought back. hearing that it was the intention of the tibetans to take them _viâ_ the lumpiya, i, with pandit gobaria, jai mal, and lata, induced the jong pen of taklakot to allow mr. landor to be brought to taklakot. on the evening of th september _peshkár_ kharak sing arrived there. at about a.m. on the th september mr. landor, chanden sing, and man sing arrived. i took them to my tent and heard their account of what had happened. i could hardly recognise mr. landor; he looked very ill and seemed nearly exhausted. i examined his injuries and found that his forehead had the skin off and was covered with scabs. his cheeks and nose were in the same state. his hair had grown long. he was unshaven and unkempt. he was in rags and dirty, covered with swarms of lice. his hands, fingers, and wrists were swollen and wounded. on his spine at the waist he had an open sore, and the parts around were swollen and red. his seat was covered with marks of wounds caused by spikes. his feet were swollen, and so were his ankles. the flesh about the latter was much hurt and contused, showing marks of cords having been tightly bound round them. he was in a very low condition. i attended to him, having given him a bath and a change of clothes. i gave him food, but though he said he was famished, he could scarcely eat. i am confident, if he had been a few days longer in the hands of the tibetans and had been taken _viâ_ lumpiya, he would have died. after half an hour the tibetans brought some of mr. landor's things under seal. some of the tibetan officials on one side, _peshkár_ kharak sing and gobaria and myself on the other, made out a list of the property, which we took over, and a list was prepared of the articles taken from mr. landor and which were missing. mr. landor dictated the list from memory. copies of these lists were furnished to the jong pen. i kept mr. landor at taklakot until the afternoon of the th september. then i conveyed him by easy stages to gunji, where i have a dispensary, and attended to him. i am a hospital assistant. i sent off reports to the commissioner and deputy commissioner. chanden sing and man sing were also in a wretched state. the former had marks of recent flogging from his waist to above his ankles. read over to witness. j. larkin. deposition of pandit gobaria, _taken on the th day of october_ . _solemn affirmation administered by pandit krishnanand._ my name is gobaria; my father's name is jaibania; i am by caste garbial; forty-eight years of age; by occupation trader; my home is at garbyang, police station byans, district almora. i heard that mr. landor had been arrested and brought down as far as rungu, and saw that the jong pen of taklakot was sending men to divert mr. landor by the long roundabout route _viâ_ the lumpia pass. i went to the jong pen and succeeded in getting him to allow mr. landor to be brought to taklakot. next morning mr. landor and his two servants with two yaks arrived. mr. landor was in a very bad state--in a dying state. a list of mr. landor's property as received from the tokchim tarjum was made. then mr. landor had a list of things taken from him and not returned made out. a tibetan, named nerba, who was present, admitted that he had taken part in mr. landor's torture and had held him by the hair. the official who had tortured mr. landor was the galjo changjo and a lama. read over to witness. j. larkin. deposition of the political peshkar kharak sing, _taken on the th day of october_ . _solemn affirmation administered by me._ my name is kharak sing; my father's name is gobind sing; i am by caste pal; twenty-six years of age; by occupation _peshkár_; my home is at askot, police station askot, district almora. i am the political _peshkár_ at garbyang in byans. i knew and reported that mr. henry savage landor had gone into tibet. on the th september i learnt from bhotias that he had been stopped at toxem and reported it. i then proceeded to taklakot in tibet, to inquire into the matter. on the th september, at taklakot, i learnt that mr. landor was a prisoner at dogmar, and that the jong pen would not permit his being brought into taklakot, as this meant that mr. landor would have to go to gyanima and _viâ_ the lumpia lek. i then insisted on the jong pen allowing mr. landor a passage to taklakot, and warned him of the consequences if he declined. the jong pen consented, but gave orders that mr. landor should be conveyed hurriedly by night through taklakot to the lippu lek. i protested against this, and eventually mr. landor, on th september, was conveyed into taklakot. the jong pen had sent two _sawárs_ to his guard to admit them. in the rev. harkua wilson's tent mr. landor related how he had been tortured. there were several of the tibetans present who had taken part in the tortures, and they signified that all of mr. landor's story was true. among them was nerba, of thokchim tarjum, who admitted that he had held mr. landor by the hair when about to be beheaded, and had cut the nails of his fingers and toes. he admitted he had taken a gold ring from mr. landor, which a soldier had taken from him. i made a report of all this and sent ( ) a list of mr. landor's property restored him by the tibetans and ( ) a list of articles missing. i know mr. landor had two rifles and a revolver when he went into tibet and a considerable amount of money. mr. landor was in a very critical position; he was past recognition. he was wounded on the face, body, hands, and legs. i went to the jong pen and protested at the treatment given mr. landor. the former boldly admitted that mr. landor had been treated as alleged, and that it was their duty to act so. the jong pen promised to try and have mr. landor's missing property restored to him. i know he wrote off to the garban of gartok about orders issuing to the toxem tarjum. he has engaged to send me anything recovered. read over to witness. j. larkin. deposition of suna, _taken on the th day of october . solemn affirmation administered by me._ my name is suna; my father's name is gandachiju; i am by caste khumhar; forty-two years of age; by occupation trader; my home is at gunji, police station byans, district almora. i saw mr. landor and his two servants as prisoners about one and a-half month ago, this side of the mansarowar lake. mr. landor and chanden sing were on yaks; man sing on foot. they were well guarded. tunda and amr sing were with me. they went on ahead to taklakot while i stayed back with the sheep. they went to inform the rev. harkua wilson of the capture. i saw mr. landor detained at dogmar. read over to witness. j. larkin. _statement of property confiscated by the tibetan authorities, and recovered some months later by the government of india._ . department ------------------------------- _from_ h.k. gracey, esq., c.s., _the deputy commissioner of almora_, _to_ a.h. savage landor, esq., c/o grindlay, groom & co. bombay. _dated th december_ ) ) _received_ ) ----- revolver, . no. xxii. of . jewel ring, . ------------------------------- cash-- / /--in eight-anna _file no._ . pieces. serial no. . cartridges for rifles, . ------------------------------- rifles, ( damaged). cartridges for pistol, . cleaning-rods for rifles, . ------------------------------- cover for rifle, . _file heading._ " revolver, . _property of_ mr. h. savage leather strap, . landor. net to catch butterflies, . ------------------------------- subject. has the honour to inform him that his marginally noted articles have been received by the political peshkar of garbyang from the jong-pen of taklakote. w. smith, c.s., _for_ b.r. regr. no. ) p. no. h.k. gracey, c.s., dept. xxii. b.-- ) - - - _deputy commissioner, almora._ , , of . ) p.d. w.j.w. _certificate from_ dr. wilson. dharchula byas, bhot. i herewith certify that i accompanied mr. a. henry savage landor in his ascent up the mangshan mountain, and that mr. landor and a rongba coolie reached an altitude of , (twenty-two thousand) feet. owing to the rarefied air, i and the other men accompanying mr. landor were unable to go as far as he did. mr. landor was at the time carrying on him a weight of thirty seers ( lbs.), consisting of silver rupees, two aneroids, cartridges, revolver, &c. during the whole time i travelled with mr. landor he always carried the above weight on him, and generally carried his rifle besides ( ¼ lbs. extra). we all suffered very much during the ascent, as the incline was very steep, and there was deep snow and much troublesome _débris_. i also certify that i took many photographs[ ] of mr. landor and his two servants after they were released, and mr. landor looked then very old and suffering, owing to starvation and the wounds that had been inflicted upon him by the tibetans. (signed) h. wilson, _in charge of bhot dispensaries, american methodist episcopal mission._ dharchula, _april_ , . dear mr. landor, do you remember the night when we separated near lama chokden in tibet, you to proceed towards lhassa, and i to return to india? i have in my lifetime, seen few such fierce snowstorms. the storm had been raging the whole day and night, and the wind was blowing so hard that we could not hear each other speak. i can only recollect with horror at the dreadful anxiety i was in when you, with a handful of men, escaped from the tibetan soldiers watching us, and in the dark fearful night proceeded to take your men up the mountain range, with no path, and among loose stones and boulders, a way, indeed, not even fit for goats. that night, i well remember, you were carrying a weight much greater than the one you usually carried, thirty seers ( lbs.), for when you left the tent you had in your hand a small bag with extra silver rupees, and you carried your revolver, your rifle, and some extra ammunition. i assure you that i look back with amazement at how you succeeded in pulling through the dangers and difficulties of that night alone. yours sincerely, (signed) h. wilson, _american methodist episcopal mission._ dr. h. wilson's _statement_. i herewith certify that, having heard at gungi (byas) that mr. a. henry savage landor, after losing all his provisions in a large river, had been captured by the tibetans at toxem and had there been tortured, i proceeded to taklakot (tibet) in the hope of obtaining further news. at taklakot the news was confirmed, and i heard that mr. landor and two servants were brought back under a strong guard. some uncertainty prevailed as to what route he would be made to follow, and efforts were made by the tibetans to make him proceed by the long, cold, and dangerous route _viâ_ the lumpiya pass, instead of by the shorter and easier route _viâ_ taklakot. we heard that mr. landor and his two men were in very poor health owing to the ill-treatment by the tibetans, and no doubt the long journey over ice and snow by the lumpiya pass left but little chance of their reaching gungi alive. at the request of jaimal bura, latto bura and myself, pundit gobaria despatched a man to the jong pen at kujer to explain that we would be thankful and would consider it a great kindness if he would allow mr. landor to travel through taklakot. at last, after much trouble, our request was granted. the officer who brought us the news informed us that mr. landor would be made to pass through taklakot at night, and conveyed directly over the lippu pass. the political peshkar kharak sing pal arrived in taklakot that day from india, and we held a consultation. we agreed to keep a watchman in the road all night, but mr. landor did not go by. in the afternoon of the th, mr. landor and his two men arrived. they had been rifled of all they possessed and their clothes were torn and dirty. mr. landor and the two men looked very ill and suffering, mr. landor's face being hardly recognisable. he and his bearer chanden sing gave us an account of the tortures that had been inflicted upon them at toxem and galshio, and mr. landor showed the peshkar kharak singh, pundit gobaria, myself and many bhotiyas (shokas) twenty-two wounds on his spine, feet and hands received from the tibetans. chanden sing, who had been administered two hundred lashes, showed numerous black marks and open sores where the skin had been torn on both legs. from lamas and soldiers who had been present at mr. landor's arrest and tortures i heard the following account. an ambush had been laid, and mr. landor and his bearer were caught by treachery when some hundred and fifty yards away from their tent, inside which were the rifles and revolver. they made a desperate resistance and fought for over fifteen minutes, struggling to get at their weapons. thirty men were on mr. landor and twelve or fifteen held chanden sing, while four hundred soldiers armed with matchlocks and swords, and who had kept hidden behind sandhills, quickly surrounded them. they were tightly bound with ropes round the neck, chest, and legs, and the arms were pinioned behind their backs. chanden sing received two hundred lashes that same day. mr. landor and mansing were taken to galshio three days later. ponies were provided for them, mansing riding bare-back, while the wooden frame of a saddle was provided for mr. landor, the frame having several iron spikes sticking out of it in the back part of it. during the long ride to galshio these nails produced several wounds on mr. landor's spine and back. efforts were made, by means of a rope attached to his handcuffs, to pull him off the saddle and have him trodden to death by the hundreds of ponies of the lamas, soldiers and officers that came full gallop behind. moreover, two shots were fired at mr. landor. mansing, unable to use his hands that were bound, fell many times off his steed and remained some two miles behind. when galshio was reached mr. landor was pulled off his saddle, and they told him that his head would be cut off immediately. dragged mercilessly by soldiers, he was taken to a wooden log. here they stretched his legs wide apart, and his feet were made fast on the cutting edge of the log by means of tightly bound ropes that cut into his flesh. then while an officer held him in a standing position by the hair of his head, a hot iron was passed in front of his eyes and a matchlock laid on his forehead and fired. lastly, the head lama approached with a long sword and swung it right and left close to mr. landor's neck, as if about to cut off the head. mr. landor remained composed and spoke no words. after some twenty minutes mansing arrived, and was tied to the same log in front of mr. landor, and pretence was made to behead mansing, mr. landor's face having been covered with a cloth. the lamas professed to have been very astonished when, after having tied the prisoners' hands high up to poles behind them, mr. landor asked for some _tzamba_ (oatmeal), meat and rice, and mansing for some butter. the amazement of the tibetans appears to have been even greater when food was brought and mr. landor and mansing partook heartily of it and asked for more. mr. landor was kept chained to the log for twenty-four hours, mansing twelve hours. when they were brought back to toxem they found that chanden sing had been kept four days tied hands and feet to an upright post, and he had been given no food. at taklakot, an officer (called nerba) confessed in my own tent, and before pundit gobaria and the political peshkar kharak sing, that he himself had held mr. landor by the hair when he was about to be beheaded. he had also fired a shot at mr. landor, and had moreover been ordered by the lamas to cut off mr. landor's toe and finger nails, as well as a lock of his hair. the taklakot lamas and the tokchim tarjum professed to be sorry at the galshio lamas having behaved in such a cruel manner. at taklakot we made a list of mr. landor's property that was still missing, and we gave a copy to the jong pen and one to the tokchim tarjum, that they may try to recover what they can. (signed) harkua wilson, _methodist episcopal mission._ gungi byas bhot, darma. _sept._ , . dr. h. wilson's _certificate of_ a. henry savage landor's _injuries and wounds_ taklakot, tibet, _sept._ , . i herewith certify that i have examined the wounds that mr. a. henry savage landor received during his imprisonment at galshio in tibet. there are _five_ large sores along the spinal column and the spine itself has sustained severe injuries. at the time they were inflicted these wounds must have caused profuse bleeding. the feet bear the marks of cruel treatment. on the right foot are still well visible to-day (nineteen days after wounds were inflicted) _six_ wounds, viz.-- on the heel one wound one inch long; outside ankle " half-inch long; front of ankle " one inch long; top of foot, three inches above the toes, one wound one and a-half inch long. two small wounds on the upper part of foot. on the left foot the _four_ wounds are of a very severe character, and were produced by ropes cutting into the flesh. one nasty wound above heel, two and a-half inches long. one wound below the ankle, one and one-fourth of an inch long. one wound three inches above the toes, two inches long. one wound on the heel, half an inch long. these wounds have caused the feet to be much swollen, the left foot especially having been considerably injured. its strained tendons give still intense pain when touched and the foot is very heavy, inflamed and swollen. on the left hand there are _five_ wounds. on middle finger a wound one inch long and deep to the bone. on root of middle finger, a wound half an inch long. on small finger, a wound one-fourth of an inch long. on third " " " " on first " " half an inch long. the four fingers are still very swollen. on the right hand there are only _two_ wounds. the first, one half-inch long, on the upper side of the hand. the second, a quarter of an inch long on the second finger. both hands are aching and much swollen, and the wounds upon them were evidently produced by the heavy iron chain of the handcuffs. on arrival at taklakot (nineteen days after having been tortured) mr. landor is still suffering from strong fever caused by his wounds, and no doubt when they were fresh these must have given mr. landor intense pain. his health and strong constitution seem altogether shattered by the sufferings he has undergone. his face, hands and feet are very swollen, and he appears extremely weak; he himself attributed his great exhaustion to having been unable to sleep for nineteen consecutive nights on account of the bad sores on the spine and legs and because of the heavy iron chains with which he was laden. h. wilson, _hospital assistant, methodist episcopal mission._ gungi byas bhot, darma. n.b.--the numerous smaller wounds, burns, &c., on the face and body are not taken into account. a copy of this report was despatched from dr. wilson direct to the deputy commissioner, and was forwarded to the government of india. dr. h. wilson's _certificate of_ chanden sing's _injuries_. taklakot, _sept._ , . i herewith certify that i have examined chanden sing, mr. a. henry savage landor's servant who accompanied him to tibet, where they were arrested and tortured. chanden sing has visible to this day on both his legs, and twenty-one days after they were inflicted, innumerable black marks produced by flogging. so severely appears the punishment to have been administered, that large patches of skin and flesh have been torn off by the lashing. chanden sing is now in very poor health, and it is evident by his appearance that he suffers greatly from the tortures and ill-treatment received at the hands of the tibetans. h. wilson, _hospital assistant, methodist episcopal mission._ gungi byas bhot, darma. a copy of this was sent by dr. wilson to the deputy commissioner at almora, and was forwarded to the government of india. _certificate by_ miss m. a. sheldon, m.d., _of the methodist episcopal mission._ m.e. mission, khela p.o. dist. almora. east kumaon, bhot. "all at it and always at it."--wesley. _sept._ , . this is to certify that i have seen the wounds inflicted upon mr. landor by the tibetans. it is now about forty days since he was bound and tortured. the wounds are healing well. the scars upon his hands caused by being bound with chains behind his back are plainly visible. the feet show even more clearly the results of inhuman binding and torture. the wounds have not yet entirely healed, and there is much discoloration. one foot is still swollen. i have not seen the wounds upon his spine inflicted by a torturing saddle, but he complains of much pain and soreness in that region. (signed) martha a. sheldon, m.d. _certificate from_ doctor turchini, _a director of the royal hospital of s.m. nuova, florence, italy._ d.d. [illustration: stamp] r. arcispedale di s.m. nuova, gabinetto elettro-terapico direzione, firenze. firenze, _febbraio_, . il sottoscritto medico primario direttore del turno e gabinetto elettro-terapico del r° arcispedale di s. maria nuova dichiara quanto appresso: nel mese di dicembre appena giunto in questa città visitò il sig^re henry savage landor e lo trovô affetto= da _retinite_ all' occhio sinistro con suffusione dei mezzi trasparenti, e _da grave iperemia retinica_ all' occhio destro. la vista era _abolita_ a sinistra, _diminuita_ a destra= la _colonna vertebrale_ era dolente, se leggermente compressa con un dito, o se appena percossa col martello da percussione il dolore si faceva intenso, acuto specialmente nelle regioni lombare e dorsale. la deambulazione non era libera ma incerta, la funzionalità degli sfinteri molto difettosa per cui difficolta della mizione e delle evacuazioni. presentava poi delle chiazze ecchimobili sopra-malleolari e sopra-carpiche. l'aspetto suo generale era di persona sofferente e molto anemica. fatte le cure che il caso del sig^re landor reclamava, oggi febbraio notiamo; all' occhio destro risoluta la iperemia retinica, aumentato il campo visivo, occhio che serve discretamente alla sua funzione; all' occhio sinistro è molto turbata la circolazione endoculare e quivi la funzione visiva non è ristabilita; non vede gli oggetti e tutto gli fa confusione. la colonna vertebrale presenta sempre dei punti dolenti in specie al rigonfiamento sacro lombare. la deambulazione è più corretta, ma gli sarebbe impossibile fare una passeggiata lunga. la mizione e megliorata, non cosi la defacazione che è sempre difettosa per impotenza dello sfintere. le condizioni generali sono megliorate, ma occorre pero al sig^re landor seguire la cura intrapresa, e specialmente la cura elettrica ed idroterapica. (signed) dott. turchini. comune di firenze. officio d'igiene. _visto per la legalizzazione della firma del sig. dott. turchini. dal municipio firenze lira stamp. li febbraio . il sindaco. p.i. a. artimini._ _letter from the_ political peshkar, kharak sing. _private_. garbyang, bhot, _november_ , . my dear mr. landor, i hope that you have received my letter of some time ago and that you may be quite well now. are you still at almora? i have not yet got back your things from the jong pen, but i hear it is quite true that all your property reached tokchim a long time ago. i have sent another letter to the jong pen, but cannot get an answer as the lippu pass is now closed owing to a heavy fall of snow yesterday. it is rumoured that a tibetan officer is coming from lhassa to taklakot to inquire after your case, and probably he may have reached taklakot yesterday, and after examining your things he will send them down to me. now i have nearly finished my work at this place. i have collected the dues and paid them to the agents of the jong pen. i will go back to chaudas the day after to-morrow--_i.e._, on the th of this month. with kind regards and hoping to hear from you soon. i remain, yours sincerely, kharak sing pal. _letter from the_ political peshkar, kharak sing pal. haldwani, _january_ , . my dear mr. landor, i hope that by this time you have reached safely home. i have been very anxious as i have not heard from you or of your safe arrival there. the dreadful day of the th of september is still vivid in my mind, when i first saw you at taklakot (in tibet) after you had been tortured by the tibetans, and where i had come in search of you. i cannot forget your fearful appearance, with long hair and beard, and your face, body and limbs covered with wounds and bruises. when you arrived at taklakot, in a few miserable rags stained with blood, dirty and swarming with lice, and surrounded by the guard of tibetans, i could hardly believe it possible that it was you who stood before me, so much you had changed since i had last seen you. i am still deeply pained when i think of the pitiable condition you were in, when you showed me (twenty-two) fresh wounds on your hands, feet and spine, without counting the injuries to your face. and indescribable pain gave us too seeing your confiscated baggage under seal of the tibetan authorities, and to find it, when we opened it, to be full of broken or damaged instruments and other articles of your property. i think that you may remember my inquiry and consequent anger when the tibetan officers and soldiers admitted their guilt of tying you by your limbs to the stretching log and of placing you on a spiked saddle; of removing forcibly your toe-nails and pulling you by the hair of your head. you know quite well that i had no power to do more than to report the matter to higher authorities, but i can assure you that it was to me quite unbearable to hear from the tibetans that they had brought you to execution, and that they boasted of having swung the naked executioner's sword right and left of your neck, and that they had brought a red-hot iron close to your eyes to blind you. your servants' condition, especially that of chanden sing, whom like yourself the tibetans kept prisoner for twenty-four days, and who was given two hundred lashes, was pitiable beyond words. i am anxious to see the photographs taken by dr. wilson of you as you were when you arrived at taklakot. i trust that by now you may feel better and that the pain in your spine may have altogether disappeared. i believe your rifles, revolver, ring, &c., which i succeeded in recovering from the tibetans, must have reached you by now through the deputy commissioner at almora. the cash and other articles have not been recovered, nor is there any probability of getting them back. hoping to receive news of you soon and with best salaams, i am, yours most obediently, k. kharak sing pal, _political peshkar, garbyang dharchula, bhot._ _letter from_ colonel grigg, _commissioner of kumaon._ _commissionership of kumaon._ _dated december_ , . my dear landor, karak sing reports that guns ( damaged), revolver, signet-ring, cash / /-, cartridges (gun) , ditto revolver , cleaning-rods , gun-case , leather straps, butterfly-catcher, &c., have been handed to him by the jong pen of taklakot, and he has requested deputy commissioner's orders. i am glad to hear your things are coming on. i hope you are getting stronger. with our kindest regards, yours very sincerely, e.e. grigg. [note by the author.--_this letter, as will be seen from the date, reached me after the bulk of the book had gone to press_.] a private letter from j. larkin, esq., who, deputed by the government, proceeded to the frontier to make an inquiry into my case. almora, _august_ , . my dear landor, yours of the st ult. i am glad to hear that your book on your experiences in tibet is nearly finished. i wish you may have every success with it, as it is only what you deserve after your trials and hardships in that difficult land of the ultra-conservative lamas. i am not aware that the indian papers are attacking you. however, they apparently do not get reliable information if they dispute the fact of your having entered tibet. we who were in some way connected with your rescue and return have not been "interviewed," or we would give the authentic account of the affair. i was on a few days' leave at naini tal when i heard of your capture, tortures and expulsion from tibet. i was deputed by the government to proceed at once to the borders and make an inquiry into the affair. i set off at once, and i met you at askot, where you were being looked after by the rajbar. what a change in your appearance! when i saw you standing among some of the askot natives i could with difficulty identify you. you were bronzed and weather-beaten to such an extent that you were not distinguishable from the natives. i do not think you can blame me for not recognising you readily. your forehead, nose and the part of your face below your eyes were scarred, and helped to alter your appearance very greatly. you did surprise me when you told me that you would retrace your steps back to the borders on learning from me that i was hastening on to inquire into your case. i had then seen the twenty odd wounds you had on your face, wrists, feet and back. i strongly protested against your undertaking the fatiguing journey back across the perilous and arduous road, as i knew you needed rest and good nourishment, and thought it would be wisest for you to get back to almora, and be under a good doctor. you, however, with your characteristic doggedness, meant to accompany me, and i must perforce let you. i was glad in the long run, for you enabled me to make a fuller inquiry than i would otherwise have been able. as you know, and as i reported to government, i found after an inquiry on the borders that you had with great difficulty and manoeuvring succeeded in entering tibet, evading the jong pen of taklakot, and the barca tarjum at gyanema, and crossing the mariam la (maium pass) and getting as far as tuksem (toxem). you had been deserted by all the mountaineers who had started with you and who had promised to accompany you wherever you went. when you were left with the two kumaonis, you were surrounded and captured by the _governor of that part of tibet_ and his men. there, as a sequel to your innumerable fatigues, hardships, desertions, and privations, you and your two followers were ill-treated and tortured _by the governor_. have you not got a copy of my official report? i remember you told me you were applying for it. if you possess the copy, surely that will be sufficient to confound your traducers. i saw from the public papers that my report was to be laid on the table of the house of commons by the secretary of state for india. how did the photographs which we took up at the lippu pass turn out? i should particularly like to have the one of the group on the pass, and also the one where i am on horseback. i would also like to have the one _i took of you having your matutinal bath when the water froze in your hair and on your body_ as it was thrown on you by chanden sing; and no wonder it did, as there were ten to twelve feet of snow lying about, and a hardy bhotia (shoka) mountaineer had only a few days prior to our arrival been lost in the snow on crossing the pass. doubtless it will afford you some pleasure to learn that you have earned quite a reputation among the natives, both tibetan and bhotias (shokas), on account of your universal cordiality, generosity and pluck. they are constantly inquiring about you, and relating your many good traits. should you ever think of returning here you have made many friends, and you would get a very warm welcome from the natives. dr. h. wilson tells me that, when he took you over from your captors, _the officials of tibet_, you were in a dying state, and that he only just got you in the nick of time. how are your eyes and spine? i trust they are quite well again. i look back with pleasure to my tour up to the border with you, and our return journey after your journey into tibet proper, _where you were subjected to tortures by the governor of the district thereof_. with every good wish, yours very sincerely, (signed) j. larkin. [ ] maium pass. [ ] galshio = gyatsho. [ ] bhutias = shokas. [ ] raja = king. [ ] n.b.--reproductions of some of the photographs mentioned are given in this book. index abnormalities and deformities, aconite, adultery, almora, altitude, greatest reached, difficulties of travelling at great, , aneroids, antelopes, anti ram sah (banker), , askote, , rajiwar of, , , , rajiwar's court, , authorities (tibetan), , bags, , barca tarjum, , , bargain house, bathing, , bhot, , bitroguare river, black ointment, black tents, , , , , , , , , , , , , , black wolf, bleeding, boiling-point temperature at gunkyo lake, at rakstal and mansarowar lake, , bone-setting, boots, _boru_, botiyas, boundary between nepal and kumaon, , brahmaputra river, or tsangpu, , , , , , , , ramifications of, sources of, , tributaries of, , , , , brigands, , , , , , , , , , , manner of speaking, british government, british museum of natural history, british prestige, brown, miss, , buddi village, bungadhura mountain, burns and their cure, butterflies, , byans and chaudans, cameras, cannibalism, - carpet and rug making, caves, , , chai-lek, or tcheto pass, chanchubs, chanden sing, - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , deposition of, chanden sing, flogging of, - charm-boxes, charms, _chibbi_, , children, identification of, chinese steel, chipla mountain, chipula forests, _chiram_, _chokdens_, , , , _chokseh_, or table with offerings, chökti, , chongur bridge, , circumambulations, , , , climate, change in the, , clothing, cold, , , , , , collecting materials, concubines, confiscated property, , consulting the oracle, converts, courtship, cracks in the ice, , , credentials, cremation, cowardice, , , cupping, dafia, dancing, daramsalla, darma yangti, deafness, delaling monastery, _delang_ cake, dementia, dentistry, deolthal, deposition of witnesses, devil's camp, , dharchula, , dholi river, diary, notebooks, &c., diet, digestive powers, disposal of the dead by animals, by water, diving at great altitudes, divorce, dogmar, , dogpas, , dogs, , doktol province, dola, _dongbo_, or tea churn, dongon river, dooti mountain, drinking human blood, , dubart, dues paid by british subjects to tibetans, earrings, , , , earthquake, elongated ears, evil omens, , evil qualities to be avoided, evil spirits, execution ground, exorcisms, , , fakirs, fakirs and mansarowar, features, fever and diseases, , fever-demon, fire-cure, , fish, fits, flying prayers, , , , food, notions of natives regarding, foreign office, fossils, gigantic, frostbite, fuel, , , funerals, , gakkon river, , , , gangoli hat, gangri mountains, , , , garbyang, , , , , , gargia, gaussen, lieut., , gelupkas, ghural, gibti, , goats, gobaria, pundit, , , , , , deposition of, goître, _goling_, _gomba_, , , gori river, government allowance, government inquiry and report, , , , - government of n.w. provinces and oudh, , conference held by lieutenant-governor of, government of india, , , government report by j. larkin, government, reports to, , grand lama, grigg, col., commissioner of kumaon, , letter from, gungi, , gungi shankom, , gunkyo lake, , , gyanema, , , gyanema fort, gyanema lake, gyanema-taklakot track, gyatsho, , , , , , , handcuffs, , , hare-lip, harness, headgear, , hernia, highways to tibet, - hillmen, himahlyas, - , , , , , - , , , , hindoo rites at mansarowar, honesty and honour, horse races, house of commons, humli, rongba encampments, hundes, hypnotism, , images, india, indian newspapers, india office, , injuries and wounds, injuries to spine, inlaid metals, insanity, inscriptions, , , islands, jagat sing, jealousy, jewellery, johari traders, jolinkan pass, river, jong pen of taklakot, , , , , , , , , , , , , , his hatred of english subjects, julinba, kachi ram, , kali river, , , , kalika, _kamarjuri_, the, kanwa, karak sing pal (political peshkàr), , , , , , , , , , , , deposition of, letters from, , kardam, , karko, _kata_, or veil of friendship, , , , , kathgodam, kelas, or tize, , khela, kiang, or wild horse, , , _kiatsamba-pun_, kunjuk-sum, kuti, , , castle at, kuti river, , , , , , , sources of, kutzia daramsalla, lachu river, ladak-lhassa track, , , , , ladjekut peak, lahmari, lama chokden, , lamas, , - , - , , , , , , , , , , , celibacy of, , fasting of, hermit, hypocrisy of, infallibility of, musicians, sculptors, , support of, temporary freedom with women, unpopularity of, landor, a. h. savage. _see_ savage landor langa river, lapsang, , , , larkin j., , , , , , , , , , letters from, leather-work, lha kang, or temple, lippu pass, , , , , , , , loads, loudon gourkha fort, luminosity of water, lumpiya glacier, lumpiya pass, , , , , , , , , , , , , , luway pass, _magbun_ (general-in-chief), , mahommedan shops, maium pass, , , , , malpa river, mangshan, , mangshan glacier, - mangshan mountain, mangshan river, , mani wall, , mansarowar lake, , , , , , , , , , , , , legend about creation of, and rakstal lakes, level of, ridge dividing, , mansing, the coolie, , , , , , , , , , , , , deposition of, marksmanship, , marriageable age, marriage ceremonies, - punishments for adultery, restrictions on, system, marshy land, , , martini-henry rifle, , , masses kept in ignorance, matchlocks, , , medallions containing ashes of the dead, medicine-man, medicines, melancholia, metal-work, methodist episcopal, mission, _middù_, mirage, money, money-lending, monkeys, , mortification, mosquitoes, mud-holes, musicians, nabi, nabi shankom, naini tal, , , , namjun peak, nari-khorsum, neganza or nejangar mountain, nepal, , nerba, , , , , , , , , , , , nerpani track, - , nimo nangil, northern range parallel to himahlyas, , , , nunneries, obos, , occult arts, , , offerings, officers, officials, "_ohe!_" (tibetan exclamation), "_omne mani padme hun_," , , optical phenomenon, packing cases, pack-saddles, , , panku-gomba, paralysis, passes into tibet, , photographs by j. larkin, of wounds, &c., by dr. wilson, , photography, , pigtails, piles of stones, pithoragarh, plague, plateau, a high, , plateau, plenki, , , , poison, polyandry, - _pombo_, the, , , , , , , , contortions of, tent of, , pottery, poverty of the masses, prayer, a, prayer-wheels, provisions, , _puku_, , , pungo, rack, , , , rakastal, or rakstal, lake, , , _raksang_, , _rambang_, , - rankuti river, raots or rajis, - , features of, food of, habitations of, marriages of, release, relegar river, reports (official), rheumatism, rhubarb, rifles, rites, religious, ronkan, rosary, royal geographical society, _rupun_, , , , russian embassy in london, government, sacred dances, sacrifices, , saddles, salutations, samarakand, sandhills and mounds, savage landor, a. h., , , , , , , , , , , , , , sensitiveness to physical pain, _serai_, servants, shadgora, shakta, shankula, river, sheep loads, , sheldon, miss, , certificate of, shokas, , , , , , , , , , , , cremation, dancing, - death, diseases, dwellings, , funerals, - hospitality, - ladders, marriages, notions of earthquakes, pathetic custom of the, punishments, sacrifices, salutations, , , songs and music, summer residences, tailor, traders, , water mills, winter dwellings, , shosha, sibling monastery, singing, , sirka, siva, the god, slings, snapshot, snow and ice bridges, , snow-line, snowstorm, soldiers, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , allowance of, spectre, speech, difficulty of, spies, , spiked saddle, , , , , , spirits of the mountains, - sports, stars, brilliancy of, starvation, effects of, storms, , , , , , , stretching-log, , sturt, mr. (ex-deputy commissioner at almora), suffocating a goat, suicide, suna, , deposition of, superstitions, , , , , , , , surgery, swords, , two-handed sword of executioner, sword exercise previous to decapitation, , , , , taklakot, , , , , , , , , , , _taram_ (implement for hot iron torture), , , , tarbar, , , _tatta_, the, _tckukti_, _tchu-pun_, teeth, tents, , , , terror camp, tethering of ponies, _thar_, , tibet, boundary of, , tibetan claims and abuses, , clothes, craving for alcohol, cruelty to british subjects, diet, , encampment, , guard, , , , , , (see also "soldiers") habitations, exterior and interior, , insults, , , tibetans on british soil, , practice of leaving one arm bare explained, threats, , trade with, tinker, tinker pass, , tinker river, titela daramsalla, tokchim tarjum, , , , , , , tongzu pangti, torture implements, toxem, , , , , track on british soil, transmigration of evil spirits, treachery, , , treatment of umbilical cord, tucker, , , , lamasery, _tung-pun_, turchini, dr. (director of royal hospital, s.m. nuova, florence), certificate of, , umbrella, importance of, under-secretary to government of n.w. provinces and oudh, urghin, ventriloquism, vessels and instruments of human bone, , vision, , warner, sir w. lee (letter from), waterfall, , weaving loom, webbed fingers, , white stones, widow's trouble, a, wilson, dr. h., , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , certificate of a. h. savage landor's wounds and injuries, , certificate of chanden sing's injuries, deposition of, letter from, photographs by, statements by, , wind, , , , , , , wire-making, witnesses, woman from lhassa, women, , , - , attire of, scarcity of, strength of, woven patterns, yaks, , , , , yellow flowers, yutzang province, , zeheram, , zeyan yangti, zirri river, bedford street, w.c. _telegraphic address,_ _sunlocks, london_ a list of mr. william heinemann's publications and announcements _march . _the books mentioned in this list can be obtained to order by any bookseller if not in stock, or will be sent by the publisher on receipt of the published price and postage._ index of authors about dowson alexander dubois allen dudeney allen du toit anstey eeden arbuthnot ellwanger aston ely atherton evans , baddeley , farrar balestier , , ferruggia barnett fitch barrett fitzmaurice-kelly battershall fitz patrick behrs fleming bellamy flammarion bendall forbes benedetti fothergill benham franzos benson frederic , , beothy furtwängler beringer garmo björnson , garner blunt garnett bowen gaulot boyesen golm brailsford gontcharoff brandes , gore briscoe gounod brooke gosse , , brown , , brown & griffiths grand buchanan , granville , gray (maxwell) burgess gras byron greard cahan griffiths caine (hall) , , guerber caine (r.) guyau calvert hafiz cambridge hall capes hamilton , carr hammar chester hanus chevrillon harland clarke harris coleridge , hauptmann colmore , heaton colomb heine , compayré henderson compton henley conrad herford cooper hertwig coppée heussey couperus hichens , crackanthorpe , hinsdale crackanthorpe hirsch (mrs.) holdsworth , crane , , , howard d'annunzio hughes davidson hungerford davis , hyne dawson (c. a.) ibsen , dawson (a. j.) ingersoll de broglie irving (h. b.) de goncourt irving (sir h.) de joinville jacobsen de leval jæger de quincey , james (henry) dibbs james (lionel) dixon keary (e. m.) dowden keary (c. f.) keeling rees kennedy rembrandt kimball renan , kipling ricci knight richter kraszewski riddell kroeker rives landor roberts (a. von) lawson roberts (c. g. d.) le caron robins lee (vernon) robinson leland saintsbury le querdec salaman (j. s.) leroy-bealieu salaman (m. c.) lie sarcey linton schulz locke , scidmore lowe , scudamore lowry sedgwick lutzow (count) serao lynch sergeant , maartens somerset macdonell southey mcfall steel mackenzie stephen macnab steuart maeterlinck stevenson , , mailing sutcliffe malot tadema marey tallentyre marsh tasma masson thompson maude thomson maupassant thomson (basil) maurice thurston merriman tirebuck michel tolstoy , , mitford tree monk turgenev moore tyler mûller underhill murray (d. c.) upward murray (g.) valera napoleon vandam nicholson vazoff nordau , verrall norris vincent nugent voynich ogilvie vuillier oliphant wagner osbourne waliszewski , ouida walker paget ward palacio-valdés warden pasolini waugh patmore weitemeyer pearce , wells , pendered west pennell whibley , , perry whistler phelps white philips whitman pinero , wilken praed williams (g.) pressensé williams (e. e.) pritchard williams pugh , wood quine wyckoff raimond , zangwill , , rawnsley zola , raynor z. z. the works of lord byron. edited by william ernest henley. _to be completed in twelve volumes._ the letters, diaries, controversies, speeches, &c., in four, and the verse in eight. _small crown vo, price s. net each._ volume i. is now ready. vol. i.--letters, - . with a portrait after phillips. _to be followed by_ vol. v.--verse volume i. containing "hours of idleness," "english bards and scotch reviewers," and "childe harold." with a portrait by holmes. [_in april._ "mr. w.e. henley is not only steeped to the lips in byronic poetry, but he has also a very familiar acquaintance with the remarkable characters who formed 'the byronic set,' and he knows the manners and customs of the regency epoch to an extent that gives him full mastery of his subject. there is originality in the very form of this edition. "he manages to give in a few vigorous sentences vivid sketches of the wide circle of byron's friends and enemies."--_pall mall gazette._ "the first volume is delightfully handy and the type excellent." "these byron letters (vol. i.) mr. henley has annotated as never surely were letters annotated before. his notes provide simply a complete series of little biographies--miniature biographies with such vital selection, such concise completion without dry-as-dustness--such interest as no other writer but mr. henley could compass. it may fairly be said that he has discovered a new art, the art of biographic cameos.... it is safe to say that henceforth the typical edition of byron can never be separated from these notes. in conclusion, if byron has waited long for a heaven-sent editor, he has him at last." "mr. henley, so far as elucidation and illustration are concerned; is fully equipped."--_athenæum._ _there will also be an edition, limited to sets for sale in great britain, printed on van gelder's hand-made paper, price six guineas net, subscriptions for which are now being received._ art and decoration. an almanac of twelve sports for . by william nicholson. twelve coloured plates, each illustrating a sport for the month. with accompanying rhymes by rudyard kipling. to. in three editions. _the library edition_ all sold. _the popular edition._ lithographed in colours on stout cartridge paper. price s. d. _the edition de luxe_ (limited). printed from the original woodblocks. hand-coloured, and signed by the artist. in vellum portfolio. price £ s. net. an alphabet. by william nicholson. to. in three editions. _the popular edition_ all sold. _the library edition_ (limited). lithographed in colours on dutch handmade paper, mounted on brown paper and bound in cloth, gilt edges. price s. d. net. _the edition de luxe_ (limited). printed from the original woodblocks. hand-coloured, and signed by the artist. in vellum portfolio. price £ net. portraits by mr. nicholson of her majesty the queen, madame sarah bernhardt, lord roberts, mr. whistler, mr. rudyard kipling, mr. cecil rhodes, and prince bismarck, are now supplied separately, mounted on card for framing, price s. d. net each. * * * _a few copies of each portrait printed from the original woodblocks, hand-coloured, and signed by the artist, are still obtainable. price £ s. each net._ a history of dancing: from the earliest ages to our own times. from the french of gaston vuillier. with plates in photogravure and illustrations in the text. in one volume, to. price s. net. * * * _also copies printed on japanese vellum (containing additional plates), with a duplicate set of the plates on india paper for framing. each copy numbered and signed, price £ s. net._ meissonier. his life, and his art. by vallery c. o. greard, de l'académie française. translated from the french by lady mary loyd and florence simmonds. with full-page plates, in photogravure and in colour, and text illustrations. imperial vo, £ s. net. antonio allegri da correggio: his life, his friends, and his time. by corrado ricci, director of the royal gallery, parma. translated by florence simmonds. with photogravure plates, full-page plates in tint, and illustrations in the text. imperial vo, £ s. net. also in parts, price s. d. each net. * * * _also a special edition printed on japanese vellum, limited to copies, with duplicate plates on india paper. price £ s. net._ rembrandt: his life, his work, and his time. by emile michel, member of the institute of france. translated by florence simmonds. edited and prefaced by frederick wedmore. second edition, enlarged, with full-page plates, and illustrations in the text. in one volume, gilt top, or in two volumes, imperial vo £ s. net. * * * _a few copies of the_ edition de luxe _of the first edition, printed on japanese vellum with india proof duplicates of the photogravures, are still on sale, price £ s. net._ rembrandt. seventeen of his masterpieces from the collection of his pictures in the cassel gallery, reproduced in photogravure by the berlin photographic company. with an essay by frederick wedmore. in large portfolio ½ inches × inches. _the first twenty-five impressions of each plate are numbered and signed, and of these only fourteen are for sale in england at the net price of_ twenty guineas _the set. the price of the impressions after the first twenty-five is_ twelve guineas _net, per set._ masterpieces of greek sculpture. a series of essays on the history of art. by adolf furtwangler. authorised translation. edited by eugenie sellers. with full-page and text illustrations. imperial vo, £ s. net. * * * _also an_ edition de luxe _on japanese vellum, limited to numbered copies in two volumes, price £ s. net._ the hours of raphael, in outline. together with the ceiling of the hall where they were originally painted. by mary e. williams. folio, cloth. £ s. net. beauty and art. by aldam heaton. crown vo, cloth, s. a catalogue of the accademia delle belle arti at venice. with biographical notices of the painters and reproductions of some of their works. edited by e. m. keary. crown vo, cloth, s. d. net; 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hon. m.a. of trinity college, cambridge. a new edition. crown vo, buckram, gilt top, s. d. critical kit-kats. by edmund gosse. crown vo, buckram, gilt top, s. d. questions at issue. essays. by edmund gosse. crown vo, buckram, gilt top, s. d. * * * _a limited edition on large paper, s. net._ gossip in a library. by edmund gosse. third edition. crown vo, buckram, gilt top, s. d. * * * _a limited edition on large paper, s. net._ corrected impressions. essays on victorian writers. by george saintsbury. crown vo, gilt top, s. d. anima poetÆ. from the unpublished note-books of samuel taylor coleridge. edited by ernest hartley coleridge. crown vo, s. d. essays. by arthur christopher benson, of eton college. crown vo, buckram, s. d. a commentary on the works of henrik ibsen. by hjalmar hjorth boyesen. crown vo, cloth, s. d. net. the posthumous works of thomas de quincey. edited, with introduction and notes from the author's original mss., by alexander h. japp, ll.d., f.r.s.e., &c. crown vo, cloth, s. each. i. suspiria de profundis. with other essays. ii. conversation and coleridge. with other essays. the prose works of heinrich heine. translated by charles godfrey leland, m.a., f.r.l.s. 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[illustration: and inside that dark circle there came a face, a dark eastern face, with awful eyes, filled with agony and rage and pain. --page .] the mystery of the ravenspurs chapter i the shadow of a fear a grand old castle looks out across the north sea, and fishermen toiling on the deep catch the red flash from ravenspur point, as their forefathers have done for many generations. the ravenspurs and their great granite fortress have made history between them. every quadrangle and watch-tower and turret has its legend of brave deeds and bloody deeds, of fights for the king and the glory of the flag. and for five hundred years there has been no ravenspur who has not acquitted himself like a man. theirs is a record to be proud of. time has dealt lightly with the home of the ravenspurs. it is probably the most perfect mediæval castle in the country. the moat and the drawbridge are still intact; the portcullis might be worked by a child. and landwards the castle looks over a fair domain of broad acres where the orchards bloom and flourish and the red beeves wax fat in the pastures. a quiet family, a handsome family, a family passing rich in the world's goods, they are strong and brave--a glorious chronicle behind them and no carking cares ahead. surely, then, the ravenspurs should be happy and contented beyond most men. excepting the beat of the wings of the angel of death, that comes to all sooner or later, surely no sorrow dwelt there that the hand of time could fail to soothe. and yet over them hung the shadow of a fear. no ravenspur had ever slunk away from any danger, however great, so long as it was tangible; but there was something here that turned the stoutest heart to water, and caused strong men to start at their own shadows. for five years now the curse had lain heavy on the house of ravenspur. it had come down upon them without warning; at first in the guise of a series of accidents and misfortunes, until gradually it became evident that some cunning and remorseless enemy was bent upon exterminating the ravenspurs root and branch. there had been no warning given, but one by one the ravenspurs died mysteriously, horribly, until at last no more than seven of the family remained. the north-country shuddered in speaking of the ill-starred family. the story had found its way into print. scotland yard had taken the case in hand; but still the hapless ravenspurs died, mysteriously murdered, and even some of those who survived had tales to unfold of marvelous escapes from destruction. the fear grew on them like a hunting madness. from first to last not one single clue, however small, had the murderers left behind. family archives were ransacked and personal histories explored with a view to finding some forgotten enemy who had originated this vengeance. but the ravenspurs had ever been generous and kind, honorable to men and true to women, and none could lay a finger on the blot. in the whole history of crime no such weird story had ever been told before. why should this blow fall after the lapse of all these years? what could the mysterious foe hope to gain by this merciless slaughter? and to struggle against the unseen enemy was in vain. as the maddening terror deepened, the most extraordinary precautions were taken to baffle the assassin. eighteen months ago the word had gone out for the gathering of the family at the castle. they had come without followers or retainers of any kind; every servant had been housed outside the castle at nightfall, and the grim old fortress had been placed in a state of siege. they waited upon themselves, they superintended the cooking of their own food, no strange feet crossed the drawbridge. when the portcullis was raised, the most ingenious burglar would have failed to find entrance. at last the foe was baffled; at last the family was safe. there were no secret passages, no means of entry; and here salvation lay. alas for fond hopes! within the last year and a half three of the family had perished in the same strange and horrible fashion. there was richard ravenspur, a younger son of rupert, the head of the house, with his wife and boy. richard ravenspur had been found dead in his bed, poisoned by some lemonade; his wife had walked into the moat in the darkness; the boy had fallen from one of the towers into a stone quadrangle and been instantly killed. the thing was dreadful, inexplicable to a degree. the enemy who was doing this thing was in the midst of them. and yet no stranger passed those iron gates; none but ravenspurs dwelt within the walls. eye looked into eye and fell again, ashamed that the other should know the suspicions racking each poor distracted brain. and there were only seven of them now--seven pallid, hollow-cheeked wretches, almost longing for the death they dreaded. there was rupert ravenspur, the head of the family, a fine, handsome, white-headed man, who had distinguished himself in the crimea and the indian mutiny. there was his son gordon who some day might succeed him; there was gordon's wife and his daughter vera. then there was geoffrey ravenspur, the orphan son of one jasper ravenspur, who had fallen under the scourge two years before. and also there was marion ravenspur, the orphan daughter of charles ravenspur, another son who had died in india five years before of cholera. mrs. charles was there, the child of an indian prince, and from her marion had inherited the dark beauty and soft glorious eyes that made her beloved of the whole family. a strange tale surely, a hideous nightmare, and yet so painfully realistic. one by one they were being cut off by the malignant destroyer, and ere long the family would be extinct. it seemed impossible to fight against the desolation that always struck in the darkness, and never struck in vain. rupert ravenspur looked out from the leads above the castle to the open sea, and from thence to the trim lawns and flower beds away to the park, where the deer stood knee-deep in the bracken. it was a fair and perfect picture of a noble english homestead, far enough removed apparently from crime and violence. and yet! a deep sigh burst from the old man's breast; his lips quivered. the shadow of that awful fear was in his eyes. not that he feared for himself, for the snows of seventy years lay upon his head, and his life's work was done. it was others he was thinking of. the bright bars of the setting sun shone on a young and graceful couple below coming towards the moat. a tender light filled old ravenspur's eyes. then he started as a gay laugh reached his ears. the sound caught him almost like a blow. where had he heard a laugh like that before? it seemed strangely out of place. and yet those two were young, and they loved one another. under happier auspices, geoffrey ravenspur would some day come into the wide acres and noble revenues, and take his cousin vera to wife. "may god spare them!" ravenspur cried aloud. "surely the curse must burn itself out some time, or the truth must come to light. if i could only live to know that they were happy!" the words were a fervent prayer. the dying sun that turned the towers and turrets of the castle to a golden glory fell on his white, quivering face. it lit up the agony of the strong man with despair upon him. he turned as a hand lay light as thistledown on his arm. "amen with all my heart, dear grandfather," a gentle voice murmured. "i could not help hearing what you said." ravenspur smiled mournfully. he looked down into a pure young face, gentle and placid, like that of a madonna, and yet full of strength. the dark brown eyes were so clear that the white soul seemed to gleam behind them. there was hindoo blood in marion ravenspur's veins, but she bore no trace of the fact. and, out of the seven surviving members of that ill-fated race, marion was the most beloved. all relied upon her, all trusted her. in the blackest hour her courage never faltered; she never bowed before the unseen terror. ravenspur turned upon her almost fiercely. "we must save vera and geoffrey," he said. "they must be preserved. the rest of us are as nothing by comparison. the whole future of our race lies with those two young people. watch over them, marion; shield vera from every harm. i know that she loves you. swear that you will protect her from every evil!" "there is no occasion to swear anything," marion said, in her clear, sweet voice. "dear, don't you know that i am devoted heart and soul to your interests? when my parents died, and i elected to come here in preference to returning to my mother's people, you received me with open arms. do you suppose that i could ever forget the love and affection that have been poured upon me? if i can save vera she is already saved. but why do you speak like this to-day?" ravenspur gave a quick glance around him. "because my time has come," he whispered hoarsely. "keep this to yourself, marion, for i have told nobody but you. the black assassin is upon me. i wake at nights with fearful pains at my heart--i cannot breathe. i have to fight for my life, as my brother charles fought for his two years ago. to-morrow morning i may be found dead in my bed--as charles was. then there will be an inquest, and the doctors will be puzzled, as they were before." "grandfather! you are not afraid?" "afraid! i am glad--glad, i tell you. i am old and careworn, and the suspense is gradually sapping my senses. better death, swift and terrible, than that. but not a word of this to the rest, as you love me!" chapter ii the wanderer returns the hour was growing late, and the family were dining in the great hall. rupert ravenspur sat at the head of the table, with gordon's wife opposite him. the lovers sat smiling and happy side by side. across the table marion beamed gently upon the company. nothing ever seemed to eclipse her quiet gaiety; she was the life and soul of the party. there was something angelic about the girl as she sat there clad in soft diaphanous white. lamps gleamed on the fair damask, on the feathery daintiness of flowers, and on the lush purple and gold and russet of grapes and peaches. from the walls long lines of bygone ravenspurs looked down--fair women in hoops and farthingale, men in armor. there was a flash of color from the painted roof. presently the soft-footed servants would quit the castle for the night, for under the new order of things nobody slept in the castle excepting the family. also, it was the solemn duty of each servitor to taste every dish as it came to table. a strange precaution, but necessary in the circumstances. for the moment the haunting terror was forgotten. wines red and white gleamed and sparkled in crystal glasses. rupert ravenspur's worn, white face relaxed. they were a doomed race and they knew it; yet laughter was there, a little saddened, but eyes brightened as they looked from one to another. by and by the servants began to withdraw. the cloth was drawn in the old-fashioned way, a long row of decanters stood before the head of the house and was reflected in the shining, brown pool of mahogany. big log fires danced and glowed from the deep ingle nooks; from outside came the sense of the silence. an aged butler stood before ravenspur with a key on a salver. "i fancy that is all, sir," he said. ravenspur rose and made his way along the corridor to the outer doorway. here he counted the whole of the domestic staff, carefully passed the drawbridge and then the portcullis was raised. ravenspur castle and its inhabitants were cut off from the outer world. nobody could molest them till morning. and yet the curl of a bitter smile was on ravenspur's face as he returned to the dining-hall. even in the face of these precautions two of the garrison had gone down before the unseen hand of the assassin. there was some comfort in the reflection that the outer world was barred off, but it was futile, childish, in vain. the young people, with mrs. charles, had risen from the table and had gathered on the pile of skins and cushions in one of the ingle nooks. gordon ravenspur was sipping his claret and holding a cigar with a hand that trembled. hardy man as he was, the shadow lay upon him also; indeed, it lay upon them all. if the black death failed to strike, then madness would come creeping in its track. thus it was that evening generally found the family all together. there was something soothing in the presence of numbers. they were talking quietly, almost in whispers. occasionally a laugh would break from vera, only to be suppressed with a smile of apology. ravenspur looked fondly into the blue eyes of the dainty little beauty whom they all loved so dearly. "i hope i didn't offend you, grandfather," she said. in that big hall voices sounded strained and loud. ravenspur smiled. "nothing you could do would offend me," he said. "it may be possible that a kindly providence will permit me to hear the old roof ringing with laughter again. it may be, perhaps, that that is reserved for strangers when we are all gone." "only seven left," gordon murmured. "eight, father," vera suggested. she looked up from the lounge on the floor with the flicker of the wood fire in her violet eyes. "do you know i had a strange dream last night. i dreamt that uncle ralph came home again. he had a great black bundle in his arms, and when the bundle burst open it filled the hall with a gleaming light, and in the center of that light was the clue to the mystery." ravenspur's face clouded. nobody but vera would have dared to allude to his son ralph in his presence. for over ralph ravenspur hung the shadow of disgrace--a disgrace he had tried to shift on to the shoulders of his dead brother charles, marion's father. of that dark business none knew the truth but the head of the family. for twenty years he had never mentioned his erring son's name. "it is to be hoped that ralph is dead," he said harshly. a somber light gleamed in his eyes. vera glanced at him half timidly. but she knew how deeply her grandfather loved her, and this gave her courage to proceed. "i don't like to hear you talk like that," she said. "it is no time to be harsh or hard on anybody. i don't know what he did, but i have always been sorry for uncle ralph. and something tells me he is coming home again. grandfather, you would not turn him away?" "if he were ill, if he were dying, if he suffered from some grave physical affliction, perhaps not. otherwise----" ravenspur ceased to talk. the brooding look was still in his eyes; his white head was bent low on his breast. marion's white fingers touched his hand caressingly. the deepest bond of sympathy existed between these two. and at the smile in marion's eye ravenspur's face cleared. "you would do all that is good and kind," marion said. "you cannot deceive me: oh, i know you too well for that. and if uncle ralph came now!" marion paused, and the whole group looked one to the other with startled eyes. with nerves strung tightly like theirs, the slightest deviation from the established order of things was followed by a feeling of dread and alarm. and now, on the heavy silence of the night, the great bell gave clamorous and brazen tongue. ravenspur started to his feet. "strange that anyone should come at this time of night," he said. "no, gordon, i will go. there can be no danger, for this is tangible." he passed along the halls and passages till he came to the outer oak. he let down the portcullis. "come into the light," he cried, "and let me see who you are." a halting, shuffling step advanced, and presently the gleam of the hall lantern shone down upon the face of a man whose features were strangely seamed and scarred. it seemed as if the whole of his visage had been scored and carved in criss-cross lines until not one inch of uncontaminated flesh remained. his eyes were closed; he came forward with fumbling, outstretched hands as if searching for some familiar object. the features were expressionless, but this might have been the result of those cruel scars. but the whole aspect of the man spoke of dogged, almost pathetic, determination. "you look strange and yet familiar to me," said ravenspur. "who are you and whence do you come?" "i know you," the stranger replied in a strangled whisper. "i could recognize your voice anywhere. you are my father." "and you are ralph, ralph, come back again!" there was horror, indignation, surprise in the cry. the words rang loud and clear, so loud and clear that they reached the dining-hall and brought the rest of the party hurrying out into the hall. vera came forward with swift, elastic stride. with a glance of shuddering pity at the scarred face she laid a hand on ravenspur's arm. "my dream," she whispered. "it may be the hand of god. oh, let him stay!" "there is no place here for ralph ravenspur," the old man cried. the outcast still fumbled his way forward. a sudden light of intelligence flashed over gordon as he looked curiously at his brother. "i think, sir," he said, "that my brother is suffering from some great affliction. ralph, what is it? why do you feel for things in that way?" "i must," the wanderer replied. "i know every inch of the castle. i could find my way in the darkest night over every nook and corner. father, i have come back to you. i was only to come back to you if i were in sore need or if i was deeply afflicted. look at me! does my face tell you nothing?" "your face is--is dreadful. and, as for your eyes, i cannot see them." "you cannot see them," ralph said in that dreadful, thrilling, strangled whisper, "because i have no sight; because i am blind." without a word ravenspur caught his unhappy son by the hand and led him to the dining-hall, the family following in awed silence. chapter iii the cry in the night the close clutch of the silence lay over the castle like the restless horror that it was. the caressing drowsiness of healthy slumber was never for the hapless ravenspurs now. they clung round the ingle nook till the last moment; they parted with a sigh and a shudder, knowing that the morrow might find one face missing, one voice silenced for ever. marion alone was really cheerful; her smiling face, her gentle courage were as the cool breath of the north wind to the others. but for her, they would have gone mad with the haunting horror long since. she was one of the last to go. she still sat pensive in the ingle, her hands clasped behind her head, her eyes gazing with fascinated astonishment at ralph ravenspur. in some strange, half-defined fashion it seemed to her that she had seen a face scarred and barred like that before. and in the same vague way the face reminded her of her native india. it was a strong face, despite the blight that suffering had laid upon it. the lips were firm and straight, the sightless eyes seemed to be seeking for something, hunting as a blind wolf might have done. the long, slim, damp fingers twitched convulsively; feeling upwards and around as if in search of something. marion shuddered as she imagined those hooks of steel pressed about her throat, choking the life out of her. "where are you going to sleep?" ravenspur asked abruptly. "in my old room," ralph replied. "nobody need trouble about me. i can find my way about the castle as well as if i had my eyes. after all i have endured, a blanket on the floor will be a couch of down." "you are not afraid of the family terror?" ralph laughed. he laughed hard down in his throat, chuckling horribly. "i am afraid of nothing," he said; "if you only knew what i know you would not wish to live. i tell you i would sit and see my right arm burnt off with slow fire if i could wipe out the things i have seen in the last five years! i heard of the family fetish at bombay, and that was why i came home. i prefer a slumbering hell to a roaring one." he spoke as if half to himself. his words were enigmas to the interested listeners; yet, wild as they seemed, they were cool and collected. "some day you shall tell us your adventures," ravenspur said not unkindly, "how you lost your sight, and whence came those strange disfigurements." "that you will never know," ralph replied. "ah, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our narrow and specious philosophy. there are some things it is impossible to speak of, and my trouble is one of them. only to one man could i mention it, and whether he is alive or dead i do not know." marion rose. the strangely uttered words made her feel slightly hysterical. she bent over ravenspur and kissed him fondly. moved by a strong impulse of pity, she would have done the same by her uncle ralph, but that he seemed to divine her presence and her intention. the long, slim hands went up. "you must not kiss me, my child," he said. "i am not fit to be touched by pure lips like yours. good-night." marion turned away, chilled and disappointed. she wondered why ralph spoke like that, why he shuddered at her approach as if she had been an unclean thing. but in that house of singular happenings one strange matter more or less was nothing. "the light of my eyes," ravenspur murmured. "after vera, the creature i love best on earth. what should we do without her?" "what, indeed?" ralph said quietly. "i cannot see, but i can feel what she is to all of you. good-night, father, and thank you." ravenspur strode off with a not unkindly nod. as a matter of fact, he was more moved by the return of the wanderer and his evident sufferings and misfortunes than he cared to confess. he brooded over these strange things till at length he lapsed into troubled and uneasy slumber. the intense gripping silence deepened. ralph ravenspur still sat in the ingle with his face bent upon the glowing logs as if he could see, and as if he was seeking for some inspiration in the sparkling crocus flame. then without making the slightest noise, he crept across the hall, feeling his way along with his finger-tips to the landing above. he had made no idle boast. he knew every inch of the castle. like a cat he crept to his own room, and there, merely discarding his coat and boots, he took a blanket from the bed. into the corridor he stepped and then, lying down under the hangings of cordova leather, wrapped himself up cocoon fashion in his blanket and dropped into a sound sleep. the mournful silence brooded, the rats scratched behind the oaken paneled walls. then out of the throat of the darkness came a stifled cry. it was the fighting rattle made by the strong man suddenly deprived of the power to breathe. again it came, and this time more loudly, with a ring of despair in it. in the dead silence it seemed to fill the whole house, but the walls were thick, and beyond the corridor there was no cognizance of anything being in the least wrong. but the man in the blanket against the arras heard it and struggled to his feet. a long period of vivid personal danger had sharpened his senses. his knowledge of woodcraft enabled him to locate the cry to a yard. "my father," he whispered; "i am only just in time." he felt his way rapidly, yet noiselessly, along the few feet between his resting-place and ravenspur's room. imminent as the peril was, he yet paused to push his blanket out of sight. as he came to the door of ravenspur's room the cry rose higher. he stooped and then his fingers touched something warm. "marion," he said; "i can catch the subtle fragrance of your hair." the girl swallowed a scream. she was trembling from head to foot with fear and excitement. it was dark, the cry from within was despairing, the intense horror of it was dreadful. "yes, yes," she whispered hoarsely. "i was lying awake and i heard it. and that good old man told me to-day that his time was coming. i--i was going to rouse the house. the door is locked." "do nothing of the sort. stand aside." the voice was low but commanding. marion obeyed mechanically. with great strength and determination ralph flung himself against the door. at the second assault the rusty iron bolt gave and the door flew open. inside, ravenspur lay on his bed. by his bedside a nightlight cast a feeble pallid ray. there was nobody in the room besides ravenspur himself. he lay back absolutely rigid, a yellow hue was over his face like a painted mask, his eyes were wide open, his lips twitched convulsively. evidently he was in some kind of cataleptic fit and his senses had not deserted him. he was powerless to move and made no attempt to do so. the man was choking to death and yet his limbs were rigid. a sickly sweet odor filled the room and caused ralph to double up and gasp for breath. it was as if the whole atmosphere was drenched with a fine spray of chloroform. marion stood in the doorway like a fascinated white statue of fear and despair. "what is it?" she whispered. "what is that choking smell?" ralph made no reply; he was holding his breath hard. there was a queer grinning smile on his face as he turned toward the window. the fumbling clutching long hands rested for a moment on ravenspur's forehead, and the next moment there was a sound of smashing glass, as with his naked fists ralph beat in the lozenge-shaped windows. a quick cool draught of air rushed through the room, and the figure on the bed ceased to struggle. "come in," said ralph. "there is no danger now." marion entered. she was trembling from head to foot; her face was like death. "what is it, what is it?" she cried. "uncle ralph, do you know what it is?" "that is a mystery," ralph replied. "there is some fiend at work here. i only guessed that the sickly odor was the cause of the mischief. you are better, sir?" ravenspur was sitting up in bed. the color had come back to his lips; he no longer struggled to breathe. "i am all right," he said. his eyes beamed affectionately on marion. "ever ready and ever quick, child, you saved my life from that nameless horror." "it was uncle ralph," said marion. "i heard your cry, but uncle ralph was here as soon as i was. and it was a happy idea of his to break the window." "it was that overpowering drug," said ravenspur. "what it is and where it came from must always remain a mystery. this is a new horror to haunt me--and yet there were others who died in their beds mysteriously. i awoke to find myself choking; i was stifled by that sweet-smelling stuff; i could feel that my heart was growing weaker. but go, my child; you will catch your death of cold. go to bed." with an unsteady smile marion disappeared. as she closed the door behind her, ravenspur turned and grasped his son's wrist fiercely. "do you know anything of this?" he demanded. "you are blind, helpless; yet you were on the spot instantly. do you know anything of this, i say?" ralph shook his head. "it was good luck," he said. "and how should i know anything? ah, a blind man is but a poor detective." yet as ralph passed to his strange quarters, there was a queer look on his face. the long lean claws were crooked as if they were fastened about the neck of some enemy, some foe to the death. "the hem of the mystery," he muttered. "patience and prudence, and the day shall come when i shall have it by the throat, and such a lovely throat, too!" chapter iv brant street there was nothing about the house to distinguish it from its stolid and respectable neighbors. it had a dingy face, woodwork painted a dark red with the traditional brass knocker and bell-pull. the windows were hung with curtains of the ordinary type, the venetian blinds were half down, which in itself is a sign of middle-class respectability. in the center of the red door was a small brass plate bearing the name of dr. sergius tchigorsky. not that dr. tchigorsky was a medical practitioner in the ordinary sense of the word. no neatly appointed "pillbox" ever stood before ; no patient ever passed the threshold. tchigorsky was a savant and a traveler to boot; a man who dealt in strange out-of-the-way things, and the interior of his house would have been a revelation to the top-hatted, frock-coated doctors and lawyers and city men who elected to make their home in brant street, w. the house was crammed with curiosities and souvenirs of travel from basement to garret. a large sky-lighted billiard-room at the back of the house had been turned into a library and laboratory combined. and here, when not traveling, tchigorsky spent all his time, seeing strange visitors from time to time, mongolians, hindoos, natives of tibet--for tchigorsky was one of the three men who had penetrated to the holy city of lassa, and returned to tell the tale. the doctor came into his study from his breakfast, and stood ruminating, rubbing his hands before the fire. in ordinary circumstances he would have been a fine man of over six feet in height. but a cruel misfortune had curved his spine, while his left leg dragged almost helplessly behind him, his hands were drawn up as if the muscles had been cut and then knotted up again. tchigorsky had entered lassa five years ago as a god who walks upright. when he reached the frontier six months later he was the wreck he still remained. and of those privations and sufferings tchigorsky said nothing. but there were times when his eyes gleamed and his breath came short and he pined for the vengeance yet to be his. as to his face, it was singularly strong and intellectual. yet it was disfigured with deep seams checkered like a chessboard. we have seen something like it before, for the marks were identical with those that disfigured ralph ravenspur and made his face a horror to look upon. a young man rose from the table where he was making some kind of an experiment. he was a fresh-colored englishman, george abell by name, and he esteemed it a privilege to call himself tchigorsky's secretary. "always early and always busy," tchigorsky said. "is there anything in the morning papers that is likely to interest me, abell?" "i fancy so," abell replied thoughtfully. "you are interested in the ravenspur case?" a lurid light leapt into the russian's eyes. he seemed to be strangely moved. he paced up and down the room, dragging his maimed limb after him. "never more interested in anything in my life," he said. "you know as much of my past as any man, but there are matters, experiences unspeakable. my face, my ruined frame! whence come these cruel misfortunes? that secret will go down with me to the grave. of that i could speak to one man alone, and i know not whether that man is alive or dead." tchigorsky's words trailed off into a rambling incoherent murmur. he was far away with his own gloomy and painful thoughts. then he came back to earth with a start. he stood with his back to the fireplace, contemplating abell. "i am deeply interested in the ravenspur case, as you know," he said. "a malignant fiend is at work yonder--a fiend with knowledge absolutely supernatural. you smile! i myself have seen the powers of darkness doing the bidding of mortal man. all the detectives in europe will never lay hands upon the destroyer of the ravenspurs. and yet, in certain circumstances, i could." "then, in that case, sir, why don't you?" "do it? i said in certain circumstances. i have part of a devilish puzzle; the other part is in the hands of a man who may be dead. i hold half of the bank-note; somebody else has the other moiety. until we can come together, we are both paupers. if i can find that other man, and he has the nerve and the pluck he used to possess, the curse of the ravenspurs will cease. but, then, i shall never see my friend again." "but you might solve the problem alone." "impossible. that man and myself made a most hazardous expedition in search of dreadful knowledge. that formula we found. for the purposes of safety, we divided it. and then we were discovered. of what followed i dare not speak. i dare not even think. "i escaped from my dire peril, but i cannot hope that my comrade was so fortunate. he must be dead. and, without him, i am as powerless as if i knew nothing. i have no proof. yet i know quite well who is responsible for those murders at ravenspur." abell stared at his chief in astonishment. he knew tchigorsky too well to doubt the evidence of his simple word. the russian was too strong a man to boast. "you cannot understand," he said. "it is impossible to understand without the inner knowledge that i possess, and even my knowledge is not perfect. were i to tell the part i know i should be hailed from one end of england to the other as a madman. i should be imprisoned for malignant slander. but if the other man turned up--if only the other man should turn up!" tchigorsky broke into a rambling reverie again. when he emerged to mundane matters once more he ordered abell to read the paragraph relating to the latest phase of the tragedy of the lost ravenspur. "it runs," said abell, "'another strange affair at ravenspur castle. the mystery of this remarkable case still thickens. late on wednesday night mr. rupert ravenspur, the head of the family, was awakened by a choking sensation and a total loss of breath. on attempting to leave his bed, the unfortunate gentleman found himself unable to move. "'he states that the room appeared to be filled with a fine spray of some sickly, sweet drug or liquid that seemed to act upon him as chloroform does on a subject with a weak heart. mr. ravenspur managed to cry out, but the vapor held him down, and was slowly stifling him----'" "ah," tchigorsky cried. "ah, i thought so. go on!" his eyes were gleaming; his whole face glistened with excitement. "'providentially the cry reached the ears of another of the ravenspurs. this gentleman burst open his father's door, and noticing the peculiar, pungent odor, had the good sense to break a window and admit air into the room. "'this prompt action was the means of saving the life of the victim, and it is all the more remarkable because it was carried out by a mr. ralph ravenspur, a blind gentleman, who had just returned from foreign parts.'" a cry--a scream broke from tchigorsky's lips. he danced about the room like a madman. for the time being it was impossible for the astonished secretary to determine whether this was joy or anguish. "you are upset about something, sir," he said. tchigorsky recovered himself by a violent effort that left him trembling like a reed swept in the wind. he gasped for breath. "it was the madness of an overwhelming joy!" he cried. "i would cheerfully have given ten years of my life for this information. abell, you will have to go to ravenspur for me to-day." abell said nothing. he was used to these swift surprises. "you are to see this ralph ravenspur, abell," continued tchigorsky. "you are not to call at the castle; you are to hang about till you get a chance of delivering my message unseen. the mere fact that ralph ravenspur is blind will suffice for a clue to his identity. look up the time-table!" abell did so. he found a train to land him at biston junction, some ten miles from his destination. half an hour later he was ready to start. from an iron safe tchigorsky took a small object and laid it in abell's hand. "give him that," he said. "you are simply to say: 'tchigorsky--danger,' and come away, unless ralph ravenspur desires speech with you. now, go. and as you value your life, do not lose that casket." it was a small brass box no larger than a cigarette case, rusty and tarnished, and covered with strange characters, evidently culled from some long-forgotten tongue. chapter v a ray of light a sense of expectation, an uneasy feeling of momentous events about to happen, hung over the doomed ravenspurs. for once, marion appeared to feel the strain. her face was pale, and, though she strove hard to regain the old gentle gaiety, her eyes were red and swollen with weeping. all through breakfast she watched ravenspur in strange fascination. he seemed to have obtained some kind of hold over her. yet nothing could be more patient, dull, and stolid than the way in which he proceeded with the meal. he appeared to dwell in an unseen world of his own; the stirring events of the previous night had left no impression on him whatever. for the most part, they were a sad and silent party. the terror that walked by night and day was stealing closer to them; it was coming in a new and still more dreadful form. accident or the intervention of providence had averted a dire tragedy; but it would come again. ravenspur made light of the matter. he spoke of the danger as something past. yet it was impossible wholly to conceal the agitation that filled him. he saw marion's pale, sympathetic face; he saw the heavy tears in vera's eyes, and a dreadful sense of his absolute impotence came upon him. "let us forget it," he said almost cheerfully. "let us think no more of the matter. no doubt, science can explain this new mystery." the speaker's sightless eyes were turned upwards; he seemed to be thinking aloud rather than addressing the company generally. marion turned as if something had stung her. "uncle ralph knows something that he conceals from us," she cried. ralph smiled. yet he had the air of one who is displeased with himself. "i know many things that are mercifully concealed from pure natures like yours," he said. "but as to what happened last night i am as much in the dark as any of you. ah, if i were not blind!" a strained silence followed. one by one the company rose until the room was deserted, save for ralph ravenspur and his nephew geoffrey. the handsome lad's face was pale, his lips quivered. "i am dreadfully disappointed, uncle," he observed. "meaning from your tone that you are disappointed with me, geoff. why?" "because you spoke at first as if you understood things. and then you professed to be as ignorant as the rest of us. oh, it is awful! i--i would not care so much if i were less fond of vera than i am. i love her; i love her with my whole heart and soul. if you could only see the beauty of her face you would understand. "and yet when she kisses me good-night i am never sure that it is not for the last time. i feel that i must wake up presently to find that all is an evil dream. and we can do nothing, nothing, nothing but wait and tremble and--die." ralph had no reply; indeed there was no reply to this passionate outburst. the blind man rose from the table and groped his way to the door with those long hands that seemed to be always feeling for something like the tentacles of an octopus. "come with me to your grandfather's room," he said. "i want you to lend me your eyes for a time." geoffrey followed willingly. the bed room was exactly as ravenspur had quitted it, for as yet the housemaid had not been there. "now look round you carefully," said ralph. "look for something out of the common. it may be a piece of rag, a scrap of paper, a spot of grease, or a dab of some foreign substance on the carpet. is there a fire laid here?" "no," geoffrey replied. "the grate is a large open one. i will see what i can find." the young fellow searched minutely. for some time no reward awaited his pains. then his eyes fell upon the hearthstone. "i can only see one little thing," he said. "in a business like this, there are no such matters as little things," ralph replied. "a clue that might stand on a pin's point often leads to great results. tell me what it is that attracts your attention." "a bronze stain on the hearthstone. it is about the size of the palm of one's hand. it looks very like a piece of glue dabbed down." "take a knife and scrape it up," said ralph. he spoke slowly and evidently under excitement well repressed. "wrap it in your handkerchief and give it to me. has the stuff any particular smell?" "yes," said geoffrey. "it has a sickly sweet odor. i am sure that i never smelt anything like it before." "probably not. there, i have no further need of your services, and i know that vera is waiting for you. one word before you go--you are not to say a single word to a soul about this matter; not a single soul, mind. and now i do not propose to detain you any longer." geoffrey retired with a puzzled air. when the echo of his footsteps had died away, ralph rose and crept out upon the leads. he was shivering with excitement; there was a look of eager expectation, almost of triumph, on his face. he felt his way along the leads until he came to a group of chimneys, about the center one of which he fumbled with his hands for some time. then the look of triumph on his face grew more marked and stronger. "assurance doubly sure," he whispered. his voice croaked hoarsely with excitement. "if i had only somebody here whom i could trust! if i told anybody here whom i suspected they would rise like one person, and hurl me into the moat. and i can do no more than suspect. patience, patience, and yet patience." from the terrace came the sound of fresh young voices. they were those of vera and geoffrey talking almost gaily as they turned their steps toward the granite cliffs. for the nerves of youth are elastic and they throw off the strain easily. they walked along side by side until they came to the cliffs. here the rugged ramparts rose high with jagged indentations and rough hollows. there were deep cups and fissures in the rocks where a regiment of soldiers might lie securely hidden. for miles the gorse was flushed with its golden glory. "let us sit down and forget our troubles," said geoffrey. "how restful the time if we could sail away in a ship, vera, away to the ends of the earth, where we could hide ourselves from this cruel vendetta and be at peace. what use is the ravenspur property to us when we are doomed to die?" vera shuddered slightly and the exquisite face grew pale. "they might spare us," she said plaintively. "we are young and we have done no harm to anybody. and yet i have not lost all faith. i feel certain that heaven above us will not permit this hideous slaughter to continue." she laid her trembling fingers in geoffrey's hand, and he drew her close to him and kissed her. "it seems hard to look into your face and doubt it, dearest," he said. "even the fiend who pursues us would hesitate to destroy you. but i dare not, i must not, think of that. if you are taken away i do not want to live." "nor i either, geoff. oh, my feelings are similar to yours!" the dark violet eyes filled with tears, the fresh breeze from the sea ruffled vera's fair hair and carried her sailor hat away up the cliff. it rested, perched upon a gorse bush overhanging one of the ravines or cups in the rock. as geoffrey ran to fetch the hat he looked over. a strange sight met his astonished gaze. the hollow might have been a small stone quarry at some time. now it was lined with grass and moss, and in the center of the cup, which had no fissure or passage of any kind, two men were seated bending down over a small shell or gourd placed on a fire of sticks. in ordinary circumstances there would have been nothing strange in this, for the sight of peripatetic hawkers and tinkers along the cliffs was not unusual. but these men did not belong to that class. they were tall and spare; they were clad in dingy robes; on their heads were turbans of the same sad color. they were dark of feature, with thin faces and ragged beards. in appearance they were singularly alike; indeed, they might have been twin brothers some time past the prime of life. from the shell on the ground a thick vapor was rising. the smell of it floated on the air to geoffrey's nostrils. he reeled back almost sick and faint with the perfume and the discovery he had made. for that infernal stuff had exactly the same smell as the pungent drug which had come so near to destroying the life of rupert ravenspur only a few hours before. here was something to set the blood tingling in the veins and the pulses leaping with a mad excitement. from over the top of the gorse geoffrey watched with all his eyes. he saw the smoke gradually die away; he saw a small mass taken from the gourd and carefully stowed away in a metal box. then the fire was kicked out and all traces of it were obliterated. geoffrey crept back again to vera, trembling from head to foot. he had made up his mind what to do. he would say nothing of this strange discovery to vera; he would keep it for ralph ravenspur's ears alone. ralph had been in foreign parts and might understand the enigma. meanwhile it became necessary to get out of the asiatics' way. it was not prudent for them to know that a ravenspur was so close. vera looked into geoffrey's face, wondering. "how pale you are!" she said. "and how long you have been!" "come and let us walk," said geoffrey. "i--i twisted my ankle on a stone and it gave me a twinge or two. it's all right now. shall we see if we can get as far as sprawl point and back before luncheon?" vera rose to the challenge. she rather prided herself on her powers as a walker. the exercise caused her to glow and tingle, and all the way it never occurred to her how silent and abstracted geoffrey had become. chapter vi abell carries out his errand when ralph ravenspur reached the basement, his whole aspect had changed. for the next day or two he brooded about the house, mainly with his own thoughts for company. he was ubiquitous. his silent, cat-like tread carried him noiselessly everywhere. he seemed to be looking for something with those sightless eyes of his; those long fingers were crooked as if about the throat of the great mystery. he came into the library where rupert ravenspur and marion were talking earnestly. he dropped in upon them as if he had fallen from the clouds. marion started and laughed. "i declare you frighten me," she said. "you are like a shadow--the shadow of one's conscience." "there can be no shadow on yours," ralph replied. "you are too pure and good for that. never, never will you have cause to fear me." "all the same, i wish you were less like a cat," ravenspur exclaimed petulantly, as marion walked smilingly away. "anybody would imagine that you were part of the family mystery. ralph, do you know anything?" "i am blind," ralph replied doggedly. "of what use is a blind man?" "i don't know; they say that when one sense is lost the others are sharpened. and you came home so mysteriously, you arrived at a critical moment for me, you were at my door at the time when help was sorely needed. again, when you burst my door open you did the only thing that could have saved me." "common sense, sir. you were stifling and i gave you air." ravenspur shook his head. he was by no means satisfied. "it was the common sense that is based upon practical experience. and you prowl about in dark corners; you wander about the house in the dead of the night. you hint at a strange past, but as to that past you are dumb. for heaven's sake, if you know anything tell me. the suspense is maddening." "i know nothing and i am blind," ralph repeated. "as to my past, that is between me and my maker. i dare not speak of it. let me go my own way and do not interfere with me. and whatever you do or say, tell nobody--nobody, mind--that you suspect me of knowledge of the family trouble." ralph turned away abruptly and refused to say more. he passed from the castle across the park slowly, but with the confidence of a man who is assured of every step. the recollection of his boyhood's days stood him in good stead. he could not see, but he knew where he was and even the grim cliffs held no terrors for him. he came at length to a certain spot where he paused. it was here years ago that he had scaled the cliffs at the peril of his neck and found the raven's nest. he caught the perfume of the heather and the crushed fragrance of the wild thyme, but their scents were as nothing to his nostrils. for he had caught another scent that had brought him up all standing with his head in the air. the odor was almost exhausted; there was merely a faint suspicion of it, but at the same time it spoke to ralph as plainly as words. he was standing near the hollow where geoffrey had been two days ago. in his mind's eye ralph could see into this hollow. years before he had been used to lie there winter evenings when the brent and ducks were coming in from the sea. he scrambled down, sure-footed as a goat. then he proceeded to grope upon the grass with those long restless fingers. he picked up a charred stick or two, smelt it, and shook his head. presently his hand closed upon the burnt fragments of a gourd. as ralph raised this to his nostrils his eyes gleamed. "i was certain of it," he muttered. "two of the bonzes have been here, and they have been making the pi. if i could only see!" as yet he had not heard of geoffrey's singular discovery. there had been no favorable opportunity of disclosing the secret. ralph retraced his steps moodily. for the present he was helpless. he had come across the clue to the enigma, but only he knew of the tremendous difficulties and dangers to be encountered before the heart of the mystery could be revealed. he felt cast down and discouraged. there was bitterness in his heart for those who had deprived him of his precious sight. "oh, if i could only see!" he cried. "a week or month to look from one eye into another, to strip off the mask and lay the black soul bare. and yet if the one only guessed what i know, my life would not be worth an hour's purchase! and if those people at the castle only knew that the powers of hell--living, raging hell--were arrayed against them! but they would not believe." an impotent sigh escaped the speaker. just for the moment his resolution had failed him. it was some time before he became conscious of the fact that some one was dogging his footsteps. "do you want to see me?" he demanded. there was no reply for a moment. abell came up cautiously. he looked around him, but so far as he could see he and ravenspur were alone. as he caught sight of the latter's face he had no ground for further doubt. "i did want to see you and see you alone, sir," abell replied. "i believe i have the pleasure of speaking to mr. ralph ravenspur?" "the same, sir," ralph said coldly. "you are a stranger to me." "a stranger who brings a message from a friend. i was to see you alone and for two days i have been waiting for this opportunity. my employer asks me to deliver this box into your hands." at the same time abell passed the little brass case into ralph's hand. as his fingers closed upon it a great light swept over his face; a hoarse shout came from lips that turned from red to blue, and then to white and red again. so tchigorsky had behaved when he discovered that this man still lived. "who gave you this, and what is your message?" ravenspur panted. "the message," said abell, "was merely this. i was to give you the box and say: 'tchigorsky--danger,' and walk away, unless you detained me." "then my friend tchigorsky is alive?" "yes, sir; it is my privilege to be his private secretary." "a wonderful man," ralph cried; "perhaps the most wonderful man in europe. and to think that he is alive! if an angel had come down from heaven and asked me to crave a boon, i should have asked to have tchigorsky in the flesh before me. you have given me new heart of grace; you are like water in a dry land. this is the happiest day i have known since----" the speaker paused and mumbled something incoherent. but the stolid expression had gone from his scarred face, and a strange, triumphant happiness reigned in its stead. he seemed years younger, his step had grown more elastic; there was a fresh, broad ring in his voice. "tchigorsky will desire to see me," he said. "indeed, it is absolutely essential that we should meet and that without delay. a time of danger lies before us--danger that the mere mortal does not dream of. take this to tchigorsky and be careful of it." he drew from a chain inside his vest a small case, almost identical to the one that abell had just handed to him, save that it was silver, while the other was brass. on it were the same queer signs and symbols. "that will convince my friend that the puzzle is intact," he continued. "we hold the key to the enigma--nay, the key to the past and future. but all this is so much greek to you. i will come and see my friend on friday; but not in the guise of ralph ravenspur." "what am i to understand by that, sir?" abell asked. "it matters nothing what you understand," ralph cried. "tchigorsky will know. tell him : at euston on friday, not in the guise of ravenspur or tchigorsky. he will read between the lines. go and be seen with me no more." ralph strode off with his head in the air. his blood was singing in his ears; his pulse was leaping with a new life. "at last," he murmured; "after all these years for myself and my kin! at last!" chapter vii more light there was a curious, eager flush on ralph ravenspur's face. he rose from his seat and paced the room restlessly. those long fingers were incessantly clutching at something vague and unseen. and, at the same time, he was following the story that geoffrey had to tell with the deepest attention. "what does it mean, uncle?" the young man asked at length. "i cannot tell you," ralph replied. his tones were hard and cold. "there are certain things no mortal can understand unless----; but i must not go into that. it may be that you have touched the fringe of the mystery----" "i am certain that we are on the verge of a discovery!" geoffrey cried eagerly. "i am sure that stuff those strangers were making was the same as the drug or whatever it was that came so near to making an end of my grandfather. if i knew what to do!" "nothing--do nothing, as you hope for the future!" the words came hissing from ralph's lips. he felt his way across to geoffrey and laid a grip on his arm that seemed to cut like a knife. "forget it!" he whispered. "fight down the recollection of the whole thing; do nothing based upon your discovery. i cannot say more, but i am going to give you advice worth much gold. promise me that you will forget this matter; that you will not mention it to a soul. promise!" geoffrey promised, somewhat puzzled and dazed. did ralph know everything, or was he as ignorant as the rest? "i will do what you like," said geoffrey. "but it is very hard. can't you tell me a little more? i am brave and strong." "courage and strength have nothing to do with it. a nation could do nothing in this case. i am going to london to-day." "you are going to london alone?" "why not? i came here from the other side of the world alone. i have to see a doctor about my eyes. no, there is no hope that i can ever recover my sight again; but it is possible to allay the pain they give me." ralph departed. a dogcart deposited him at biston junction, and then the servant saw him safely into the london train. but presently ralph alighted and a porter guided him to a cab. a little later and the blind man was knocking at the door of a cottage in the poorer portion of the town. a short, stocky man, with a seafaring air, opened the door. "is it you, elphick?" ralph asked. the short man with the resolute face and keen, gray eyes exclaimed with pleasure: "so you've got back at last, sir. come in, sir. i am alone here as you know. i knew you'd want me before long." ralph ravenspur felt his way to a chair. james elphick stood watching him with something more than pleasure in his eyes. "we have no time to spare," ralph exclaimed. "we must be in london to-night, james. i am going up to see dr. tchigorsky." "dr. tchigorsky!" elphick exclaimed. "didn't i always say as how he'd get through? the man who'd get the best of him ain't born yet. but it means danger, sir. nothing we ever carried out with the doctor was anything else." "danger you do not dream of," ralph said impressively. "but i cannot discuss this with you, james. you are coming with me to london. get the disguise out and let me see if your hand still retains its cunning." apparently it had, for an hour later there walked from the cottage toward the station an elderly, stout man, with white hair and beard and whiskers. his eyes were guarded by tinted glasses; the complexion of the face was singularly clear and ruddy. all trace of those cruel criss-cross lines had gone. wherever elphick had learned his art, he had not failed to learn it thoroughly. "it's perfect; though i say it as shouldn't," he remarked. "it's no use, sir; you can't get on without me. if i'd gone with you to lassa, all that horrible torture business would never have happened." ralph ravenspur smiled cautiously. the stiff dressing on his face made a smile difficult in any case. "at all events, i shall want you now," he said. it was nearly seven when the express tram reached euston. ralph stood on the great bustling, echoing, platform as if waiting for something. an exclamation from elphick attracted his attention. "there's the doctor as large as life!" he said. "tchigorsky!" ralph cried. "surely not in his natural guise. oh, this is reckless folly! does he court defeat at the outset of our enterprise?" tchigorsky bustled up. for some reason or other he chose to appear in his natural guise. not till they were in the cab did ravenspur venture to expostulate. "much learning has made you mad," he said bitterly. "not a bit of it," the russian responded. "unfortunately for me the priests of lassa have discovered that i am deeply versed in their secrets. not that they believe for a moment that tchigorsky and the russian who walked the valley of the red death are one and the same. they deem me to be the recipient of that unhappy man's early discoveries. but your identity remains a secret. the cleverest eyes in the world could never penetrate your disguise." "it comforts me to hear that," ralph replied. "everything depends upon my identity being concealed. once it is discovered, every ravenspur is doomed. but i cannot understand why you escape recognition at the hands of the foe." a bitter smile came over tchigorsky's face. "can you not?" he said. "if you had your eyes you would understand. man, i have been actually in the company of those who flung me into the valley of the red death and they have not known me. after that i stood in the presence of my own mother, and she asked who i was. "the marks on my face? well, there are plenty of explorers who have been victims to the wire helmet and have never dreamt of entering lassa. i am a broken, decrepit wreck, i who was once so proud of my inches. the horrors of that one day have changed me beyond recognition. but you know." ralph shuddered from head to foot. a cold moisture stood on his forehead. "don't," he whispered. "don't speak of it. when the recollection comes over me i have to hold on to my senses as a shipwrecked sailor clings to a plank. never mind the past--the future has peril and danger enough. you know why i am here?" "to save your house from the curse upon it. to bring the east and west together, and tell of the vilest conspiracy the world has ever seen. do you know who the guilty creature is, whose hand is actually striking the blow?" "i think so; in fact i am sure of it. but who would believe my accusation?" "who, indeed! but we shall be in a position to prove our case, now that the secrets of the prison-house lie before us. we have three to fear." "yes, yes," said ralph. "the two bonzes--who have actually been seen near ravenspur--and the princess zara. could she recognize me?" ralph asked the question in almost passionate entreaty. "i am certain she could not," tchigorsky replied. "come, victory shall be ours yet. here we are at my house at last. by the way, you must have a name. you shall be my cousin nicholas tchigorsky, a clever savant, who, by reason of a deplorable accident, has become both blind and dumb. allons." chapter viii a master of fence lady mallowbloom's reception rooms were more than usually crowded. and every other man or woman in the glittering salon was a celebrity. there was a strong sprinkling of the aristocracy to leaven the lump; here and there the flash of red cloth and gold could be seen. in his quiet, masterly style tchigorsky pushed his way up the stairs. ralph ravenspur followed, his hand upon the russian's arm. he could feel the swish of satin draperies go by him; he caught the perfume on the warm air. "why do you drag me here?" he grumbled. "i can see nothing; it only bewilders me. i should have been far happier in your study." "you mope too much," tchigorsky said gaily. "to mingle with one's fellows is good at times. i know so many people who are here to-night." "and i know nobody; add to which circumstances compel me to be dumb. place me in some secluded spot with my back to the wall, and then enjoy yourself for an hour. i dare say i shall manage to kill the time." there were many celebrities in the brilliantly-lighted room, and tchigorsky indicated a few. a popular lady novelist passed on the arm of a poet on her way to the buffet. "a wonderful woman," the fair authoress was saying. "eastern and full of mystery, you know. did you notice the eyes of the princess?" "who could fail to?" was the reply. "they say that she is quite five and forty, and yet she would easily pass for eighteen, but for her knowledge of the world. your eastern princess is one of the most fascinating women i have even seen." others passed, and had the same theme. ralph stirred to a faint curiosity. "who is the new marvel?" he asked. "i don't know," tchigorsky admitted. "the last new lion, i suppose. some pretty begum or the wife of some oriental whose dark eyes appear to have fired society. by the crowd of people coming this way i presume the dusky beauty is among them. if so, she has an excellent knowledge of english." a clear, sweet voice arose. at the first sound of it, ralph jumped to his feet and clutched at his throat as if something choked him. he shook with a great agitation; a nameless fear had him in a close grip. "do you recognize the voice?" ralph gasped. the russian was not unmoved. but his agitation was quickly suppressed. he forced ralph down in his seat again. "you will have to behave better than that if you are to be a trusty ally of mine," he said. "come, that is better! sit still; she is coming this way." "i'm all right now," ralph replied. "the shock of finding myself in the presence of princess zara was overpowering. have no fear for me." a tall woman, magnificently dressed, was making her way towards tchigorsky. her face was the hue of old ivory, and as fine; her great lustrous eyes gleamed brightly; a mass of hair was piled high on a daintily poised head. the woman might have been extremely young so far as the touch of time was concerned, but the easy self-possession told another tale. the red lips tightened for an instant, a strange gleam came into the dark magnetic eyes as they fell upon tchigorsky. then the indian princess advanced with a smile, and held out her hand to the russian. "so you are still here!" she said. there was the suggestion of a challenge in her tones. her eyes met those of tchigorsky as the eyes of two swordsmen might meet. there was a tigerish playfulness underlying the words, a call-note of significant warning. "i still take the liberty of existing," said tchigorsky. "you are a brave man, doctor. your friend here?" "is my cousin nicholas tchigorsky? the poor fellow is blind and dumb, as the result of a terrible accident. best not to notice him." the princess shrugged her beautiful shoulders as she dropped gracefully into a seat. "i heard you were in london," she said, "and something told me that we should meet sooner or later. you are still interested in occult matters?" again ralph detected the note of warning in the speech. he could see nothing of the expression on that perfect face; but he could judge it fairly well. "i am more interested in occult matters than ever," tchigorsky said gravely, "especially in certain discoveries placed in my hands by a traveler in tibet." [illustration: "i am more interested in occult matters than ever," tchigorsky said gravely, "especially in certain discoveries placed in my hands by a traveler in thibet."--page .] "ah, that was your fellow-countryman. he died, you know!" "he was murdered in the vilest manner. but before the end, he managed to convey important information to me." "useless information unless you had the key." "there was one traveler who found the key, you remember?" "true, doctor. he also, i fancy, met with an accident that, unfortunately, resulted in his death." ralph shuddered slightly. princess zara's tones were hard as steel. if she had spoken openly and callously of this man being murdered, she could not have expressed the same thing more plainly. a beautiful woman, a fascinating one; but a woman with no heart and no feeling where her hatreds were concerned. "it is just possible i have the key," said tchigorsky. the eyes of the princess blazed for a moment. then she smiled. "dare you use it?" she asked. "if you dare, then all the secrets of heaven and hell are yours. for four thousand years the priests of the temple at lassa and the heads of my family have solved the future. you know what we can do. we are all powerful for evil. we can strike down our foes by means unknown to your boasted western science. they are all the same to us, proud potentate, ex-meddling doctor." there was a menace in the last words. tchigorsky smiled: "the meddling doctor has already had personal experience," he said. "i carry the marks of my suffering to the grave. i remember how your peasants treated me and this does not tend to relax my efforts." "and yet you might die at any moment. if you persist in your studies you will have to die. the eyes of western men must not look upon the secrets of the priests of lassa and live. be warned, dr. tchigorsky, be warned in time. you are brave and clever, and as such command respect. if you know everything and proclaim it to the world----" "civilization will come as one man, and no stone in lassa shall stand on another. your priests will be butchered like wild beasts; an infernal plague spot will be wiped off the face of the outraged earth!" the princess caught her breath swiftly. just for one moment there was murder in her eyes. she held her fan as if it were a dagger ready for the russian's heart. "why should you do this thing?" she asked. "because your knowledge is diabolical," tchigorsky replied. "in the first place, all who are in the secret can commit murder with impunity. as the anglo-saxon pushes on to the four corners of the earth that knowledge must become public property. i am going to stop that if i can." "and if you die in the meantime? you are bold to rashness. and yet there are many things that you do not know." "the longer i live, the more glaring my ignorance becomes. i do not know whence you derive your perfect mastery of the english tongue. but i do know that i am going to see this business through." "man proposes, but the arm of the priests is long." "ah, i understand. i may die to-night. i should not mind. still, let us argue the matter out. say that i have already solved the problem. i write a detailed account of the whole weird business. i write twenty detailed statements; i enclose the key in each. these statements i address to a score of the leading savants in europe. "then i place them in, say, a safe deposit until my death. i write to each of those wise men a letter with an enclosure not to be opened till i die. that enclosure contains a key to my safe, and presently in that safe all those savants find a packet addressed to themselves. in a week all europe would ring with my wonderful discoveries. think of the outcry, the wrath, the indignation!" the princess smiled. she could appreciate a stratagem like this. with dull, stolid and averted face, ralph ravenspur listened and wondered. he heard the laugh that came from the lips of the princess; he detected the vexation underlying it. tchigorsky was a foeman worthy of her steel. "that you propose to do?" she asked. "a question you will pardon me for not answering," said tchigorsky. "you have made your move and i have made mine. whether i am going to do the thing, or whether i have done so, remains to be seen. whether you dare risk my death now is a matter for you to decide. check to your king." again the princess smiled. she looked searchingly into tchigorsky's face, as if she would fain read his very soul. but she saw nothing there but the dull eyes of a man who keeps his feelings behind a mask. then, with a flirt of her fan and a more or less mocking curtsey, she turned to go. "you are a fine antagonist," she said; "but i do not admit yet that you are a check to my king. i shall find a way. good-night!" she turned and plunged into the glittering crowd, and was seen no more. a strange fit of trembling came over ravenspur as tchigorsky led him out. "that woman stifles me," he said. "if she had only guessed who had been seated so near to her! tchigorsky, you played your cards well." tchigorsky smiled. "i was glad of that opportunity," he said. "she meant to have me murdered; but she will hesitate for a time. we have one great advantage--we know what we have to face and she does not. the men are on the board, the cards are on the table. it is you and i against princess zara and the two priests of the temple of lassa. and we play for the lives of a good and innocent family." "we do," ralph said grimly. "but why--why does this fascinating asiatic come all those miles to destroy one by one a race that she can scarcely have heard of? why does she do it, tchigorsky?" "you have not guessed who the princess is, then?" tchigorsky bent down and whispered three words in ralph's ear. and not until brant street was reached had ralph come back from his amazement to the land of speech. chapter ix april days the terror never lifted now from the old house. there were days and weeks when nothing happened, but the garrison did not permit itself to believe that the unseen enemy had abandoned the unequal contest. the old people were prepared for the end which they believed to be inevitable. a settled melancholy was upon them, and it was only when they were together that anything like a sense of security prevailed. for the moment they were safe--there was always safety in numbers. but when they parted for the night they parted as comrades on the eve of a bloody battle. they might meet again, but the chances were strong against it. for themselves they cared nothing; for the younger people, everything. it was fortunate that the fine constitutions and strong nerves of geoffrey and vera and marion kept them going. a really imaginative man or woman would have been driven mad by the awful suspense. but geoffrey was bright and sunny; he always felt that the truth would come to light some day. and his buoyant, sanguine nature reacted on the others. nearly a month had elapsed since the weird attempt on the life of rupert ravenspur; four weeks since geoffrey's strange experience on the cliffs; and nothing had happened. the family had lapsed once more into their ordinary mode of living; blind ralph was back again, feeling his way about the castle as usual, silent, moody, in the habit of gliding in upon people as a snake comes through the grass. ralph came into breakfast, creeping to his chair without touching anything, dropping into it as if he had fallen from the clouds. marion, next to him, shuddered. they were quite good friends, these two, but marion was slightly afraid of her uncle. his secret ways repelled her; he had a way of talking with his sightless eyes upturned; he seemed to understand the unspoken thoughts of others. "what is the matter?" he asked. marion laughed. none of the others had come down yet. "what should be the matter?" she replied. "well, you shuddered. you should be sorry for me, my dear. some of these days i mean to tell you the story of my life. oh, yes, it will be a story--what a story! and you will never forget it as long as you live." there was something uncanny in the words--a veiled threat, the suggestion of one who had waited for a full revenge, with the knowledge that the time would come. yet the scarred face was without expression; the eyes were vacant. "won't you tell me now?" marion asked softly. "i am so sorry for you?" the sweet, thrilling sympathy would have moved a stone, but it had no effect upon ralph. he merely caressed marion's slim fingers and smiled. it was significant of his extraordinary power that he found marion's hand without feeling for it. he was given to touch those slim fingers. and yet he never allowed marion to kiss him. "all in good time," he said; "but not yet, not yet." before marion could reply, mrs. gordon ravenspur came into the room. marion seemed to divine more than see that something had happened. she jumped to her feet and crossed the room. "dear aunt," she said quickly. "what is it?" "vera," mrs. gordon replied. "she called me into her room just now saying she was feeling far from well. i had hardly got into her room before she fainted. i have never known vera do such a thing before." ralph was sitting and drumming his fingers on the table as if the subject had not the slightest interest for him. but, with the swiftness of lightning, a strange, hard, cunning expression flashed across his face and was gone. when marion turned to him he had vanished also. it almost seemed as if he had the gift of fernseed. "a mere passing weakness," marion said soothingly. "i should like to think so," mrs. gordon replied. "in normal circumstances i should think so. but not now; not now, marion." marion sighed deeply. there were times when even she was oppressed. "i'll go and see vera," she said. "i am sure there is no cause for alarm." marion slipped rapidly away up the stone stairs and along the echoing corridor toward vera's room. she was smiling now, and she kissed her hand to the dead and gone ravenspurs frowning upon her from the walls. then she burst gaily into vera's room. "my dear child," she cried, "you really must not alarm us by----" she paused suddenly. vera, fully dressed, was seated in a chair, whilst ralph was by her side. he seemed more alive than usual; he had been saying something to vera that had brought the color to her face. as marion entered he grew grave and self-contained; like a snail retreating into its shell, marion thought. he sat down and tattooed with his fingers on the dressing-table. "i had no idea you had company," marion smiled. "i intruded," ralph said gravely. there was a sardonic inflection in his voice. "yet i flatter myself that vera is the better for my attention." marion looked swiftly from one to the other. she was puzzled. almost flawless as she was, she had her minor weaknesses, or she had been less charming than he was, and she hated to be puzzled. vera was no longer pale and all signs of languor had departed, yet she looked confused and there was the trace of a blush on her cheeks. "sometimes i fancy that uncle ralph is laughing at us all," she said, with a laugh that was not altogether natural. "but i am all right now, dear marion. save for a racking headache, i am myself again." marion, solicitous for others always, flew for her smelling salts. in three strides ralph was across the floor, and had closed the door behind her. his manner had instantly changed; he was full of energy and action. "take this," he whispered. "take it and the cure will be complete. crush it up between your teeth and drink a glass of water afterwards." he forced a small white pellet between vera's teeth; he heard her teeth crushing it. with his peculiar gift for finding things, he crossed over to the washstand and returned with a glass of water. "you are better?" he asked, as vera gulped the water down. "oh, yes, uncle; are you a wizard or what? my headache seems to have lifted from me as one takes off a hat. the stuff you gave me----" "say no more about it; think no more about it. but whenever the same feeling comes over you again let me know at once. and you are not to mention this to anybody." "but my mother and geoffrey and----" "ah, you love geoffrey? but there is no need to ask you the question. you want to rid the house of its nameless terror; you want to be free, to marry geoffrey and be happy. dear child, all these things will come if you listen to me. i swear it. and now will you promise me that you will say nothing of this to a soul?" "dear uncle, i promise." ralph had grown cold and moody again. when marion returned with her salts he slipped out of the room as callously as if he were not in the least interested and while many anxious eyes followed vera at breakfast time, ralph alone was indifferent, brutally indifferent, marion thought. "are you thinking of the same thing that we are?" she asked. "no," ralph said shortly. "i was thinking what poor bacon this is." chapter x a little sunshine after luncheon, geoffrey was leaning over the stone balustrade of the terrace waiting for vera. beyond a slight restlessness and extra brilliancy of the eye she was better. she had proposed a ramble along the cliffs and geoffrey had assented eagerly. his anxiety was fading away like the ashes of his cigarette. at first he had been inclined to imagine that vera's indisposition had been a move on the part of the unseen foe. but he put this idea from him as illogical. the enemy was not in the habit of using the gloved hand like this. he struck down fiercely and remorselessly. "no," geoffrey murmured aloud; "vera could not have been spared!" a gentle hand was laid upon his arm. marion stood beside him. they were alone at that angle of the terrace and unseen from the house. "you are right," said marion. "don't worry about that any more." geoffrey nodded approvingly. he slipped his arm round marion's waist and kissed her in a brotherly fashion. marion inclined toward him with half-closed eyes and a brightened color. her limbs trembled; the pressure of her lips was warm and sweet. "dear little sister," geoffrey murmured. "what should we do without you?" marion drew herself away abruptly. she rested her clasped hands over the stone balcony so that geoffrey should not see their unsteadiness; her flushed face was half averted. it was a taking, a perfect picture. "what would vera say?" she asked. "as if vera would mind! don't we all love you the same? and how many times has vera seen me kiss you? if there were no vera, little sister, then you may be sure that i should have kissed you in a different way!" marion laughed at the easy impertinence. that geoffrey had no real love or passion for anybody but vera she knew perfectly well. she laughed again, but there was nothing spontaneous in it; indeed, anybody but a youthful egotist in love could have detected a certain jarring note of pain. "here is vera," said geoffrey. "let us ask her." they put it to her merrily. they might have been in a world beyond all sorrow or suffering. the music of their fresh young voices floated in the air. then marion bent over the balustrade and watched the lovers out of sight. her face grew hard; a veil of heavy years seemed to have fallen over it. "if he only knew!" she said; "if he only knew! why are clever people often so foolish? and why do they commit follies with their eyes wide open? well, it doesn't matter, for you will never know, dear geoffrey, how passionately and devotedly i love you. and you never, never know when temptation and inclination and opportunity go together. and i don't believe that anybody could resist temptation if he or she were certain not to be found out!" "i am perfectly sure they wouldn't." marion turned with a stifled cry on her lips. ralph ravenspur was behind her. the expression on his face was wooden and emotionless. "i hope you have not been listening to me," she said reproachfully. "i have been watching you, or rather feeling your presence for some time." ralph admitted. "i have been here since those young people went away. but you said nothing; at least nothing i heard until that bit of worldly wisdom dropped from your lips." "it was an unworthy thought, uncle ralph." "it might be unworthy of you, my dear, but i fancy it is true. even the very best of people give way to temptation. put it away from you; don't dwell upon your temptation, or it may get you into trouble." "my temptation! do you mean to say you know what it is?" "i do," said ralph. "you are deeply in love with your cousin geoffrey. there is wild blood in your veins, and that blood will out unless you keep your feelings well under control. ah, you may stare and look dismayed, which i am sure you are doing although i cannot see you. yes, there is always the temptation to pray that the family foe might remove vera from your path." a piteous cry came from marion's lips. who was this man who knew so much and could probe her secret soul? yet he was blind; he could not see. was it possible that some such horrible thoughts had crossed marion's mind? atrocious thoughts will come to the best of us unasked for, unsought. "oh, you are cruel!" she said. "perhaps i am," ralph admitted. "you see, i live in a dark world of my own and i have small belief in the virtues of my fellow-creatures. but you are an angel and i have amused myself by searing your wings." "is that because you think my secret is a shameful one?" "not in the least. who can help the wayward driftings of a woman's heart? and, anyway, your secret is safe with me." he felt for marion's fingers and put them to his lips. before the girl could reply he had drifted away, apparently feeling his way into space. and for a long time marion stood there gazing out to sea. meanwhile the lovers had forgotten everything but the beauty of the day, and that the world was for themselves alone. the sun shone for them, for them the blue sea thundered in white battalions against the cliffs; for them the lark poured out its song at the gate of heaven, and the heather bloomed on moor and headland. they strolled along until they came to a favored spot where the gorse flowered in yellow fires, and the crushed wild thyme was pungent under their feet. here geoffrey threw himself on the turf and vera reclined by his side. he could touch her hands and toy with the little ripples of her hair. to watch the play of those pretty features and look back the love he saw in those great starry eyes was a thing without alloy. "ah, me, if we could always be like this!" vera said. "you and i would be happy in any circumstances," said geoffrey thoughtfully. "only i should like to see something of the world." "what, go away and leave me all alone, dearest?" geoffrey smiled at this innocent coquetry. he touched the smooth satin cheek caressingly. vera only wanted him to disclaim any such intention and he knew it, too. there was no deception about the matter, but they were none the less happy for that. "of course not," geoffrey declared. "i should take you with me wherever i went. if we could only get the bar removed i should like to travel. i should like to see men and cities, and measure my strength with my fellows. i should like to go into parliament. ah, if we could only get the bar removed!" "if we only could," vera sighed. "but i can't imagine that they will touch us. we are so young and so innocent of wrong-doing. and yet this morning----" vera paused, half afraid of betraying ralph ravenspur's confidence. "only this morning you were a bit afraid. confess it." "i was, geoff. i felt strange when i awoke in the night. i felt cold and like death when i awoke to-day, and then i fainted." "but you are all right now, darling," geoff said anxiously. "yes, dear, i never felt better. still, it was a strange thing altogether. i was well when i went to bed, but in the night i had a curious dream. it seemed to me that i was lying half asleep with a singular pricking sensation of my lips and face. and then an angel came down and laid some white powder on my pillow, a white powder that looked like a mixture of salt and powdered glass. almost immediately the pain ceased and i slept again. then i awoke finally and had that fainting fit. don't you think it was a queer thing?" "yes, but what had the dream and the powder to do with it, little girl?" "i was coming to that, geoff. after i got better i remembered my dream and looked at the pillow. you smile, thinking that only a woman would do that. sure enough there was some trace of gritty powder there, and i collected it in a tissue paper. directly i got it to the light half of it melted; it seemed to dissolve in light like water. and here it is." vera produced a tiny packet from her pocket and opened it. there were several grains of some sharp powder there which, as geoffrey held them in his hand, dissolved to nothingness. his face was very pale. "darling, this is a dreadful thing," he murmured. "i fancy----" he paused, fearful of alarming vera. he saw the hand of fate in this; he saw the sword that was hanging over that beloved young life. a passion of anger and despair filled him, but for vera's sake he checked the feeling. and it seemed to him as if he had passed in a minute down a decade of years; as if in that brief space he had left his boyhood behind and become a man. "this must be looked into," he said sternly. "every precaution----" "has been taken," vera said quietly. "we have a protector among us, dearest. one who is worth all the precautions put together. do not fear for me and do not ask me any questions, because i must not answer them. but i am safe." geoffrey nodded. the cloud slowly lifted from his forehead. vera was speaking of her uncle ralph and there was no reason to ask any questions. was it possible, geoffrey wondered, that ralph ravenspur had gone to the heart of the mystery, that it was wrapped up in his life, and that he had come home to solve it? but of this he said nothing. he resolved to render every assistance. this vile thing was the work of earthly hands and earthly ingenuity could solve it. never was there cipher invented that was incapable of solution. geoffrey drew vera to his side and kissed her passionately. for a little time she lay in his arms in absolute content. her smiling eyes were clear, her features placid. in any case she feared no unseen danger. there must be some great sheltering power behind her, or she had never looked so sweet and placid as that. "i could not do without you, darling," geoffrey said. "and you are not going to do without me," vera smiled. "there is much yet to be done, but it is going to be accomplished, dearest. something tells me that the hour of our freedom is at hand. and something also tells me, geoff, that you are going to have a great deal to do with it." they came back at length up the slope leading to the castle. and there ralph came upon them in his own noiseless, mysterious fashion. he clung to them until vera had entered the house and then led geoffrey to the terrace. "there is nobody within earshot of us?" he demanded. geoffrey assured him that there was not. he was impressed with the earnestness of his uncle's manner. he had never seen him so moved before. "is there anything i can do for you?" he asked. "much," was the whispered reply. "if you are bold and resolute." "i am, i am. i would lay down my life as the martyrs of old did to solve the mystery." "ah," ralph said, in a dry, croaking whisper. "i felt sure i could trust you. there is a great danger and it is near. in that danger i want a pair of eyes. lend me yours." "dear uncle, i will do anything you please." "good. i like the ring in your voice. at half-past eleven to-night i will come to your room. there i will confide in you. till then, absolute silence." chapter xi another stroke in the darkness contrary to the usual custom, there was almost a marked cheerfulness at ravenspur the same evening. the dread seemed to have lifted slightly, though nobody could say why, even if they cared to analyze, which they certainly did not. and all this because it had seemed to the doomed race that vera was marked down for destruction, and that the tragedy, the pitiful tragedy, had been averted. it is hardly possible to imagine a state of mind like this. and vera half divined the reason for this gentle gaiety. she might have told them differently had she chosen to do so, but for many reasons she refrained. she did not even tell her mother. why draw the veil aside when even a few hours' peace stood between them and the terror which sooner or later must sap the reason of every one there? besides, uncle ralph had pledged her to the utmost secrecy. for once rupert ravenspur had abandoned his stony air. he sat at the head of the long table in the dining-room, where the lamplight streamed upon fruit and flowers and crystal, upon priceless china, and silver from the finest workshops in the world. grinling gibbons and inigo jones had toiled in that dining-hall as a labor of love; a famous master had painted the loves of the angels on the roof. between the oak panels were paintings by van dyck, cuyp and the rest of them. and over the floor servants in livery moved swiftly. rupert ravenspur might have been a monarch entertaining some of his favored subjects. it was almost impossible to believe that a great sorrow could be brooding here. there was everything that the heart of the most luxurious could demand. strangers might have looked on and envied. but the stately old man who called all this his own would gladly have changed lots with the humblest hind on the estate. now and then rupert came out of his reverie and smiled. but his tenderest smile and his warmest word were for vera, who he had placed on his right hand. now and again he stroked her hair or touched her fingers gently. marion watched the scene with a tender smile on her lips. only ralph ravenspur was silent. he sat with his sightless eyes fixed on space; he seemed to be listening intently, listening to something far away that could be heard by his ears alone. geoffrey touched him. "a penny for your thoughts, uncle," he said. "they are worth nothing," ralph replied. "and if i sold them to you for a penny you would give all ravenspur castle and your coming fortune to be rid of them." he croaked this out in a fierce whisper. there was a ring of pain in his voice, that pain which is the suffering of the soul rather than the body. yet he did not relax his rigid listening attitude. he might have been waiting for the unseen foe. the conversation proceeded fitfully, sometimes almost lively, anon lapsing into silence. it was hard for these people to speak. they had no interests outside the castle; they found it impossible to follow social or political life. daily papers arrived, but it was seldom that they were looked into. the dinner came to an end at length, and then the family circle drew round the fire. ravenspur was one of those big cold places where fires are always needed. mrs. gordon rose and walked to the door. her husband's eyes followed her. these two were gray and old before their time, but the flame of love still burned bright and clear. "you will not be long, dear," gordon ravenspur said. a somewhat sentimental remark in the ordinary way, but not in this place where the parting of a minute might mean parting for all time. mrs. gordon smiled back upon her husband. "i am going to bed," she said. "never mind me. i feel sleepy." gordon ravenspur nodded sympathetically. he knew what his wife meant as if she had put her thoughts into words. she had been terribly upset over vera and now that the danger was past a heavy reaction set in. "why should we sit here like this?" geoffrey exclaimed. "vera and marion, i'll play you two a game at billiards. come along." marion smilingly declined. she touched the back of ravenspur's wasted hand. "i am going to stay here just for a few minutes and take care of grandfather," she said; "then i will go to bed. give vera twenty in a hundred, and i will bet you a pair of gloves that she beats you easily." the young people went off together and in the excitement of the game other things were forgotten. vera played well and geoffrey had all his work cut out to beat her. finally vera ran out with a succession of brilliant flukes. "well, of all the luck!" geoffrey cried. "let's play another game, but after that exhibition of yours i must have a cigarette. wait a moment." the cigarettes were not in their accustomed place. geoffrey ran up the stairs to his bedroom. he passed along the dusky corridor on his return. in the gallery all was dark and still, save for something that sounded like two figures in muffling velvet robes dancing together. it seemed to geoffrey that he could actually hear them breathing after their exertions. with a quickening of his heart he stopped to listen. surely somebody buried under many thick folds of cloth was calling for assistance. "who is there?" geoffrey called. "where are you?" "just under the lely portrait," came a stifled response. "if you don't----" the voice ceased. in that instant geoffrey had recognized it as aunt gordon's voice. heedless of danger to himself he raced down the corridor, his thin evening pumps making little or no noise on the polished floor. nor had geoffrey lived here all these years for nothing. he could have found the spot indicated blindfolded. he could see nothing, but he could hear the struggle going on; then he caught the flash of something that looked like a blue diamond. it must have been attached to a hand, but no hand was to be seen. geoffrey caught at nothingness and grasped something warm and palpitating. he had the mysterious assailant in his grip; perhaps he held the whole mystery here. he heard footsteps pattering along the corridor as mrs. gordon ran for assistance. he called out to her and she answered him. she was safe. there was no doubt about that. no longer was there any need for caution on geoffrey's part. his fingers closed on a thin scraggy throat from which the flesh seemed to hang like strips of dried leather. at the same time the throat was cold and clammy and slippery as if with some horrible slime. it was almost impossible to keep a grip on it. moreover, the mysterious visitor, if slight, was possessed of marvelous agility and vitality. but geoffrey fought on with the tenacity of one who plays for a great end. he closed in again and bore the foe backwards. he had him at last. if he could only hold on till assistance came, the dread secret might be unfolded. then the figure took something from his pocket; the air was filled with a pungent, sickly sweet odor, and geoffrey felt his strength going from him. he was powerless to move a limb. one of those greasy hands gripped his throat. in a vague, intangible way geoffrey knew that that overpowering blinding odor was the same stuff that had come so near to ending the head of the family. if he breathed it much longer, his own end was come. he made one other futile struggle and heard approaching footsteps; he caught the gleaming circle of a knife blade swiftly uplifted, and his antagonist gave a whimper of pain as a frightened animal might do. the grip relaxed and geoffrey staggered to the floor. "that was a narrow escape," a hoarse voice said. "uncle ralph!" geoffrey panted. "how did you get here? and where has the fellow gone?" "i was close at hand," ralph said coolly. "a minute or two sooner and i might have saved gordon's wife, instead of your doing it. see, is there blood on this knife?" he handed a box of matches to geoffrey. the long, carved malay blade was dripping with crimson. but there were no signs of it on the floor. "let us follow him," geoffrey cried eagerly. "he can't be far away!" but ralph did not move. his face was expressionless once more. he did not appear to be in the least interested or excited. "it is useless," he said, in his dull mechanical tones. "for in this matter you are as blind as i am. there are things beyond your comprehension. i am going down to see what is happening below." he began to feel his way to the staircase, geoffrey following. "are we never going to do anything?" the younger man exclaimed passionately. "yes, yes. patience, lad! the day of reckoning is coming as sure as i stand before you. but to follow your late antagonist is futile. you might as well try to beat the wind that carries away your hat on a stormy day." mrs. gordon sat in the dining-hall, pale, ashen, and trembling from head to foot. it seemed as if an ague had fallen upon her. every now and then a short hysterical laugh escaped her lips, more horrible and more impressive than any outbreak of fear or passion. and yet there was nothing to be done, nothing to be said; they could only look at her with moist eyes and a yearning sympathy that was beyond all words. "it will pass," mrs. gordon said faintly. "we all have our trials; and mine are no worse than the rest. gordon, take me to bed." she passed up the stairs leaning on the arm of her husband. time was when these things demanded vivid explanations. they were too significant now. ralph crept fumblingly over the floor till he stood by marion's side. he touched her hand; he seemed to know where to find it. the hand was wet. ralph touched her cheek. "you are crying," he said, gently for him. "yes," marion admitted, softly. "oh, if i could only do anything to help. if you only knew how my heart goes out to these poor people!" "and yet it may be your turn next, marion. but i hope not--i hope not. we could not lose the only sunshine in the house!" marion choked down a sob. when she turned to ralph again he was far off feeling his way along the room--feeling, feeling always for the clue to the secret. chapter xii geoffrey is put to the test the house was quiet at last. when these mysterious things had first happened, fear and alarm had driven sleep from every eye, and many was the long night the whole family had spent, huddled round the fire till gray morn chased their fears away. but as the inhabitants of a beleaguered city learn to sleep through a heavy bombardment, so had the ravenspurs come to meet these horrors with grim tenacity. they were all upstairs now, behind locked doors, with a hope that they might meet again on the morrow. only geoffrey was up waiting for his uncle ralph. he came at length so noiselessly that geoffrey was startled, and motioned to him that he should follow him without a word. they crept like ghosts along the corridor until they reached a room with double doors at the end of the picture gallery. generations ago this room had been built for a ravenspur who had developed dangerous homicidal mania, and in this room he had lived virtually a prisoner for many years. after they had closed the two doors, a heavy curtain was drawn over the inner one, and ralph fumbled his way to the table and lighted a candle. "now we can talk," he said quietly, "but not loud. understand that the matter is to be a profound secret between us and that not a soul is to know of it; not even vera." "i have already given my promise," said geoffrey. "i know. still there is no harm in again impressing the fact on your mind. geoffrey, you are about to see strange things, things that will test your pluck and courage to the uttermost." geoffrey nodded. with the eagerness of youth he was ready. "i will do anything you ask me," he replied. "i could face any danger to get at the bottom of this business." "you are a good lad. turn the lamp down very low and then open the window. have you done that?" "yes, i can feel the cold air on my face." ralph crossed to the window and, putting out his hand, gave the quaint mournful call of the owl. there was a minute's pause and then came the answering signal. a minute or two later and a man's head and shoulders were framed in the open window. geoffrey would have dashed forward, but ralph held him back. "not so impatient," he said. "this is a friend." geoffrey asked no questions, though he was puzzled to know why the visitor did not enter the castle by the usual way. at ralph's request he closed the window and drew the heavy curtains and the lamp was turned up again. "my nephew," said ralph. "a fine young fellow, and one that you and i can trust. geoffrey, this is my old friend, sergius tchigorsky." geoffrey shook hands with tchigorsky. to his intense surprise he saw the face of the stranger was disfigured in the same way as that of his uncle. conscious that his gaze was somewhat rude he looked down. tchigorsky smiled. very little escaped him and to him the young man's mind was as clear as a brook. "my appearance startles you," he said. "some day you will learn how your uncle and myself came to be both disfigured in this terrible way. that secret will be disclosed when the horror that haunts this house is lifted." "will it ever be lifted, sir?" geoffrey asked. "we can do so at any time," tchigorsky replied in his deep voice. "you may be surprised to hear that we can place our hand on the guilty party at a moment's notice and bring the offender to justice. your eyes ask me why we do not do so instantly. we refrain, as the detectives refrain from arresting one or two of a big gang of swindlers, preferring to spread their nets till they have them all in their meshes. there are four people in this business, and we must take the lot of them, or there will be no peace for the house of ravenspur. you follow me?" "perfectly," geoffrey replied. "an enemy so marvelously clever must not be treated lightly. do you propose to make the capture to-night?" ralph ravenspur laughed. it was not a pleasant laugh and was mirthless. his scarred face was full of scornful amusement. "not to-night or to-morrow night, or for many nights," he said. "we have all the serpent wisdom of the old world against us, the occult knowledge of the east allied to the slippery cunning that western education gives. there will be many dangers before we have finished, and the worst of these dangers will fall upon you." ralph brought his hand down with a sudden clap on his nephew's shoulders. tchigorsky regarded him long and earnestly as if he would read his very soul. "you will do," he said curtly. "i am satisfied you will do and i never made a mistake in my estimate of a man yet. ravenspur, are you ready?" "ay, ay. i have been ready this long time." the lamp was extinguished and list slippers were donned, and with no more provision than a box of wax matches they left the room. instructed by ralph ravenspur, they fell behind him, each holding by the coat-tail of the other. down the corridor they went, down the stairs, along stone-flagged passages until they reached the vast series of cellars and vaults over which the castle was built. there were many of these with twists and turns and low passages; the place was large enough to conceal a big force of troops. and yet, though it was pitchy dark and intricate as a labyrinth, the blind man made no error; he did not hesitate for a moment. well as geoffrey imagined that he knew the castle, he was fain to confess his utter ignorance alongside the knowledge displayed by the blind guide. ralph pulled up suddenly and began to speak. "i brought you here to-night, geoffrey," he said, "so that you might have the first lesson in the task that lies before you. listen! can you hear anything?" "i hear the roar of the sea, the waves grating on the shingle." "yes, because we are on a level with the sea. there are deeper vaults yet, which you will see presently, and they are below the level of the sea. our ancestors used to place their prisoners there, and, by removing a kind of sluice, allowed the tide to come in and drown them. you see, those walls are damp." they were, indeed. as a wax vesta flared up, the dripping stones and the long white fungi gave the place a weird appearance. then ralph dropped suddenly, extinguished his match, and drew his companions behind a row of cupboard-like timbers. "somebody is coming," he whispered. the others could hear nothing. but the blind man's powers of hearing were abnormal. it seemed a long time before the sound of footsteps could be heard. then a figure in white, a fair figure with long shining hair hanging down her back and carrying a taper, crept down the steps. an exclamation trembled on geoffrey's lips--an exclamation of alarm, of admiration, of the utmost astonishment. but ralph laid a hand on his mouth. the figure passed into the vault beyond. "it was marion!" said geoffrey in a thrilling whisper. "and yet it did not look like marion. she seemed so dreamy; so far off." "she was walking in her sleep," ralph said quietly. "but the danger of it, the danger!" "my dear boy, there is no danger at all. blind as i am, i found out this peculiarity of marion's directly i returned. danger to her! i would not have a hair of her head injured to save ravenspur from destruction. geoffrey, it is through marion and marion alone, that we are going to solve the mystery." "ay," tchigorsky muttered, "that is so." ralph raised his hand to impose silence. the soft returning footfalls were clear to the ears. then, rigid, unbending, with dilated eyes, marion passed, the flash of the lantern behind her. "come," said ralph, "let us return. a good night's work, tchigorsky!" "ay," tchigorsky murmured; "a good night's work, indeed." chapter xiii reeling off the thread it was fortunate for all parties that geoffrey was possessed of strong nerves, or he would have been certain to betray himself and them. since he had left school at the time when the unseen terror first began to oppress ravenspur, he had known nothing of the world; he had learnt nothing beyond the power to suffer silently and the power of love. to confide in him was, perhaps, a daring thing on the part of ralph ravenspur. but, then, ralph knew his world only too deeply and too well, and he rarely made a mistake in a man. all the same, he followed as closely as possible the meeting between marion and geoffrey the following morning. marion came down a little pale, a little quieter and more subdued than usual. geoffrey rallied her in the spirit of mingled amusement and affection that he always assumed to marion. his voice was natural and unaffected. ralph was grimly satisfied. he knew now that his ally had brains as well as courage. "i believe you have been sitting up writing poetry," geoffrey laughed. "indeed, i had a very long night's rest," marion responded. "and i can't imagine why i look so pale and washed-out this morning!" "bad dreams and an evil conscience," vera suggested demurely. marion laughed. usually at meal times the young people had the conversation entirely to themselves. sometimes the elders joined in; sometimes they listened and smiled at the empty badinage; usually they were wrapped in their gloomy thoughts. ralph's face had the expression of a stone idol, yet he followed every word that was said with intense and vivid interest. "bad dreams, indeed," marion admitted. "they were with me all night. it seemed to me that i was wandering about all night looking for something. and i had nothing on but my nightdress. in india as a child i used to walk in my sleep. i hope i am not going to do that again." marion laughed and passed on to another subject. curiously enough, she seemed to shrink from speaking of her life in india. of her dead parents she would discourse freely; of her own early life she said nothing. it had always seemed to geoffrey that marion's childhood had been unhappy. there was an air of gentle melancholy when her features were in repose, an air far older than her years. meanwhile ralph had been following all this keenly. he appeared to be interested in his breakfast. the streaming sunshine filtered through the great stained glass windows full upon his scarred face; his head was bent down upon his plate. but the man's mind was at work. he had his opportunity to speak to geoffrey presently. "you will do," he said approvingly. "keep up that easy, cheerful manner of yours. whatever happens, try to ignore it; try to keep up that irresponsible boyish manner. you will find it invaluable in disarming suspicion later, when one false move may dash all our delicate plans to the ground." "i will do anything you require of me, uncle." "that is right; that is the spirit in which to approach the problem. and, remember, that what may appear to you to be the most trivial detail may prove to be of the utmost importance to our case. for instance, i am going to ask you to do something now that may produce big results. i want you to get your grandfather's permission to use the top room over the tower." "but what can i want it for? it is useless to me." "at present, yes; but later it will be useful. you require it for an observatory. you are going to try to repair the big telescope. you are enthusiastic on the subject, you are hot-foot to get to work at once. there is nothing but lumber there." "boxes belonging to marion, uncle. cases that have remained unpacked ever since she came over from india." ralph smiled in his most inscrutable manner. "mere trifles," he croaked. "but, there, i am one of the men who deny there are such things as trifles. you may lose a pin out of your watch, a trifle hardly visible to the eye a yard off. and yet your costly watch, with its marvelous mechanism, is useless without that 'trifle.' now go." an hour later and geoffrey was busy in the corridor with the big telescope, the telescope that nobody had troubled about at ravenspur for many years. geoffrey, in his shirt sleeves, was polishing up the brasses. vera was with her mother somewhere. there had been no trouble in getting permission from rupert ravenspur. it was doubtful if he even heard geoffrey's request. everything the young people asked they got, as a rule. why not, when a day might cut off their lives and their little pleasures for all time! the head of the family was fast becoming a fatalist. so far as he was concerned, there was no hope that the terror would ever lift. he had escaped once; the next time the foe would not fail. but there would be rest in the grave. marion found geoffrey in the corridor. the yellow and purple lights from the leaded windows filled the place with a soft, warm glow. marion's dark hair was shot with purple; her white dress, as she lounged in a window seat, was turned to gold. she formed a wonderfully fair and attractive picture, if geoffrey had only heeded it. but, then, geoffrey had no eyes for any one but vera. "what are you going to do?" marion asked. "read your fortune in the stars? get inspiration from the heavenly bodies to combat the power of darkness?" "i'm going to have a shot at astronomy again," geoffrey replied, in his most boyish and most enthusiastic manner. "i was considered a bit of swell at it at school. and when i saw this jolly old telescope lying neglected here, i made up my mind to polish my knowledge. i'm going to set it up in the tower turret." "but it is packed full of boxes--my boxes." "well, there is plenty of room for those boxes elsewhere--in fact, we've got space enough to give every box a room to itself. there is an empty bedroom just below. presently i'm going to shunt all your lumber in there." marion nodded approvingly. of course if geoffrey said a thing it was done. he might have turned the castle upside down and the girls would have aided and abetted him. "i should like to be present when those boxes are moved," she said. "there are hundreds of rare and curious things that belonged to my mother--things that the british museum would long to possess. remember, my ancestors were rulers in tibet for thousands of years. some day i'll show you my curios. but don't begin to move those boxes till i am ready to assist." "i shall not be ready for an hour, marion." "very well, then, i shall be back in an hour, astronomer." geoffrey finished his work presently. then he ran up to the turret-room and opened the door. the place was dusty and dirty to a degree, and filled with packing-cases. apparently they were all of foreign make--wooden boxes, with queer inscriptions, lacquered boxes, and one fragile wooden box clamped and decorated in filigree brass. "a queer thing," geoffrey murmured. "and old, very old, too." "over a thousand years. there is only one more like it in the world, and no christian eyes save four have ever looked upon it. when you take that box from the room, see that it is the last, geoffrey. you hear?" it was ralph who spoke. he had appeared silently and mysteriously as usual. he spoke calmly, but his twitching lips were eloquent of suppressed excitement. "very well," geoffrey said carelessly. he was getting used to these strange quick appearances and these equally strange requests. "it shall be as you desire, uncle." ralph nodded. he gave a swift turn of his head as if looking for some one unconsciously, then he crossed the room and stooped down beside the brass-bound box, which was at the bottom of a pile of packages. his long fingers felt over the quaint brasses. "a most remarkable-looking pattern," said geoffrey. "it is not a pattern at all," ralph replied. "the quaint filigree work is a language--the written signs of old tibet, only you are not supposed to know that; indeed, i only found it out myself a few days ago. it had been a long search; but, as i can only see with my fingers, you can understand that. but this is part of the secret." geoffrey was profoundly interested. "tell me what the language says?" he asked. "not now--perhaps not at all. it is a ghastly and terrible thing, and even your nerves are not fireproof. there is only one thing i have to ask you before i efface myself for the present. when you take up that box to carry it down stairs it is to slip through your fingers. you are to drop it." "i am to drop that box. is there anything else?" "not for the present. you are smiling; i feel that you are smiling. for heaven's sake take this seriously; take everything that i say seriously, boy. oh, i know what is in your mind--i am going in a clumsy way to get something. i might so easily get what i require by a little judicious burglary. that is what your unsophisticated mind tells you. later you will know better." ralph turned cheerfully round and left the room. he paused in the doorway. "don't forget," he said, "that my visit here is a secret. in fact, everything is a secret until i give you permission to make it public." this time he left. geoffrey had managed to drag one or two of the boxes away before marion appeared. she reproached him gently that he had not waited for her. there might be spooks and bogies in those packages capable of harm. "i dare say there are," geoffrey laughed. "but you were such a long time. every girl seems to imagine that an hour is like a piece of elastic--you can stretch it out as long as you like. at any rate i have done no harm. as far as i can judge there's only one good thing here." "and what is that?" marion asked. geoffrey pointed to the floor. "that one," he said. "the queer brass-bound box at the bottom." chapter xiv "it might be you" marion caught her breath quickly. the marble pallor of her face showed up more strongly against her dark hair. geoffrey caught the look and his eyes grew sympathetic. "what's the matter, little girl?" he asked. "it isn't like you to faint." "neither am i going to faint, geoff. but i had forgotten all about that box. i cannot go into details, for there are some things that we don't talk about to anybody. but that box is connected with rather an unhappy time in my youth." "hundreds of years ago," geoffrey said flippantly. "oh, but it is no laughing matter, i assure you. when my mother was a child she was surrounded by all the craft and superstition of her race and religion. that was long before she got converted and married my father. i don't know how it was managed, but my mother never quite broke with her people, and once or twice, when she went to stay in tibet, i accompanied her. "my mother used to get restless at times, and then nothing would do but a visit to tibet. and yet, at other times, nobody could possibly have told her from a european with foreign blood in her veins. for months and months she would be as english as you and i. then the old fit would come over her. "there was not a cleverer or more brilliant woman in india than my mother. when she died she gave me these things, and i was not to part with them. and, much as i should like to disobey, i cannot break that promise." it seemed to geoffrey that marion spoke more regretfully than feelingly. he had never heard her say so much regarding her mother before. affectionate and tender as marion was, there was not the least trace of these characteristics in her tone now. "did you really love your mother?" geoffrey asked suddenly. "i always obeyed her," marion stammered. "and i'd rather not discuss the subject, geoff. oh, they were bad people, my mother's ancestors. they possessed occult knowledge far beyond anything known or dreamt of by the wisest western savants. they could remove people mysteriously, they could strike at a long distance, they could wield unseen terrors. such is the terror that hangs over ravenspur, for instance." marion smiled sadly. her manner changed suddenly and she was her old self again. "enough of horrors," she said. "i came here to help you. come along." the boxes were carried below until only the brass-bound one remained. geoffrey stooped to lift it. the wood was light and thin, the brass-work was the merest tracing. a sudden guilty feeling came over geoffrey as he raised it shoulder-high. he felt half inclined to defy his uncle ralph and take the consequences. it seemed a mean advantage, a paltry gratifying of what, after all, might be mere curiosity. but the vivid recollection of those strained, sightless eyes rose before him. ralph ravenspur was not the man to possess the petty vice of irrepressible curiosity. had it not been a woman he had to deal with, and marion at that, geoffrey would not have hesitated for a moment. down below in the hall he heard the hollow rasp of ralph's voice. geoffrey made up his mind grimly. he seemed to stumble forward, and the box fell from his shoulder, crashing down on the stone floor. the force of the shock simply shivered it in pieces, a great nest of grass and feathers dropped out, and from the inside a large mass of strange objects appeared. [illustration: the force of the shock simply shivered it in pieces, and from inside a large mass of strange objects appeared.--page .] "i am very sorry," geoffrey stammered after the box had fallen. "never mind," she said, "accidents will happen." but geoffrey was rapt in the contemplation of what he saw before him--some score or more of ivory discs, each of which contained some painting; many of them appeared to be portraits. geoffrey picked up one of them and examined it curiously. he was regarding an ivory circle with a dark face upon it, the face of a beautiful fury. "why, this is you," geoffrey cried. "if you could only give way to a furious passion, it is you to the life." "i had forgotten that," marion gasped. "of course, it is not me. see how old and stained the ivory is; hundreds of years old, it must be. don't ask any more questions, but go and throw that thing in the sea. never speak of the subject again." geoffrey promised. he strode out of the house and along the terrace. as he was descending the steps, a hand touched his arm. ralph stood there. "give it me," he said, "at once." "give you what, uncle?" "that ivory thing you have in your pocket. i felt certain it was there. give it to me. assume you have cast it over the cliffs. marion will be satisfied." "but i promised marion that----" "oh, i know. and if you knew everything, you would not hesitate for a moment to comply with my request." "uncle, i cannot do this thing." a hard expression came over ralph's face. "listen," he said in his rasping voice. "the lives and happiness of us all are at stake. the very existence of the woman you love is in your hands." "i have schemed for this," he said. "i expected it. and now you are going to balk me. it is not as if i did not know what you possess." "that is because you must have overheard my conversation with marion." "i admit it," ralph said coolly. "i listened, of course. but you found it and i heard what i expected. it is for you to say whether the truth comes out or not." "the truth, the truth," geoffrey cried passionately. "it must out." "then give me that miniature. i'll ask you on my knees if you like." there was an imploring ring in the speaker's voice. geoffrey hesitated. "if no harm is to come to marion," he said, "i might break my word." ralph gripped him by the arm convulsively. "i swear it," he whispered. "on my honor be it. have i not told you before that not for all ravenspur would i have a hair of that girl's head injured! if ever a man in this world meant anything, i mean that. the miniature, come!" and geoffrey, with a sigh, handed the ivory disc to ralph. chapter xv ralph ravenspur's conceit "i should like to know why you wanted the ivory picture?" it was geoffrey who asked the question. he and ralph ravenspur were moving along the lanes that led up to the cliffs. they were deep lanes, with overhanging edges on either side--lanes where it was not easy for two conveyances to pass. "i dare say you would," ralph replied. "but not at present. in due course you must know everything. geoffrey, you are fond of novel reading?" "yes, especially books of the gaboriau type. and yet, in all my reading, i never knew a more thrilling mystery than that of the ivory portrait." "you had a good look at it, then?" "of course i did. the likeness to marion was amazing. it might have been her own photograph on the ivory. it was the same, yet not the same--marion transformed to an avenging fury." "an ancestress of hers, no doubt?" "of course. the idea of it being marion herself is out of the question." "that you may dismiss at once," ralph said. "the age of the medallion proves that and marion is an angel." "she is. uncle ralph, i am fearfully puzzled. what can marion's queer ancestors and all that kind of thing have to do with our family terror?" ralph declined to say, beyond the fact that there was a connection. a horseman was coming pounding down the lane and he stepped aside instinctively. "jessop," he murmured, "i can tell by the trot of his horse." jessop, one of the farmers on the estate, it was. geoffrey regarded his companion admiringly. he seemed to be able to dispense with eyes altogether. a long course of training in woodcraft stood him in good stead now. the apple-cheeked farmer pulled up so as to pass the squires at a walking pace. "morning, jessop," geoffrey cried cheerfully. "where are you going dressed in your best. and what are you doing with that feminine-looking box?" the big man grinned sheepishly. "riding into town," he explained. "fact is, missus and myself have got a lodger, a great lady, who's taken our drawing-room and two bedrooms. they do say it's going to be the fashion for the 'quality' to spend their holidays right in t'country. it's a rare help to us these hard times." ralph ravenspur turned round suddenly upon his nephew. "is it a fact?" he demanded. "is it as jessop says?" "i believe so," geoffrey replied. "i know that for the last five years the influx of visitors along this lonely coast has been steadily growing. it seems to have become quite the thing for good-class people to take cottages and farmhouses miles away from everywhere, but i have not heard of any of our tenants having them before." "i be the first here, sir," jessop replied. "the lady came over and said she had been recommended to come to us. not as i wanted her at first, but six guineas a week for two months ain't to be despised. but the lady has a power of parcels to be fetched and carried, surely. that's why i'm off to town." jessop touched his hat and rode on. for a time ralph was silent. "it's some time since i last visited an english watering-place," he said, "and scarborough was the spot in question. we had a furnished house there one season, a good house, well furnished, and beautifully situated. we paid eight pounds a week for it, and it was considered to be a lot of money. don't you think that jessop's lodger must be a very extravagant kind of woman?" geoffrey laughed. like most young men born to the purple, he had a light estimate of the value of money. "now you come to think of it, perhaps so," he said. "over at brigg, the farmers fancy they do well if they get ten shillings a room for the week." again ralph was thoughtful. he and his companion came up out of the lane, and then it dawned upon geoffrey that the other had turned, not towards the cliffs as arranged, but inland in the direction of jessop's farm. there was a long, deep lane to the west side of the stone farmhouse, into which ralph turned. from a gap in the hedge a peep into the garden could be obtained. there was a trim lawn bordered by old-fashioned flowers, two bay windows led from the house to the garden. these bay windows led from the show rooms of the house, rooms never opened except on state occasions. the house might have been made fit for anybody with very little alteration. ralph sat down on the grass and slowly filled an aged black pipe. "i'm going to smoke here while you see mrs. jessop. i have a fancy to find out all about this fashionable lady who buries herself in the country like this. call it curiosity if you like, but do as i ask you. if you can see the lady so much the better." geoffrey agreed cheerfully. a moment or two later and he was gossiping with the buxom farmer's wife in the kitchen, a glass of amber, home-brewed ale before him. he was a favorite with the tenantry, and none the less beloved because of the cloud that was hanging over him. "it does one's eyes good to see you again, mr. geoffrey," mrs. jessop cried. "and you so cheerful and bright, and all, dear, dear! i'm main sorry i can't ask you in the parlor, but we've got a lodger." "so jessop told me. not that i don't feel far more comfortable here. and what may your distinguished visitor be like, mrs. jessop?" "dark and handsome. and dressed over so. might be a princess, who had just slipped off her throne. and clever. she had books and books, some in languages that look like chinese puzzles." "some great society dame, no doubt." "i shouldn't be surprised, mr. geoffrey. but not english, i should fancy, though she speaks the language as well as you or i. and simple, too. just tea and toast for breakfast with a little meat and rice for luncheon and dinner with stewed fruit. and she never drinks anything but water. what she spends a week in food wouldn't keep one of our laborers. and she had pounds' worth of hot-house flowers sent from york every day." mrs. jessop paused. there was a rustling of something rich, and a lady entered the kitchen. geoffrey rose instantly from the table upon which he had been seated. he saw a tall woman who might have been anything between thirty and fifty years of age, a woman of great beauty. it was the hard, commanding style of beauty that men call regal. she might have been a queen, but for the faint suggestion of the adventuress about her. to geoffrey's bow she made the slightest possible haughty recognition. "i'm going out, mrs. jessop," she said. "i shall be back to luncheon. if a telegram should happen to come for me, i shall be along the cliffs between here and beauhaven." she flashed out of the kitchen all rustling and gleaming, and leaving the faint suggestion of some intoxicating perfume behind her. and yet, notwithstanding her proud indifference, it seemed to geoffrey that she had regarded him with more than passing interest just for the moment. "she is very beautiful," he said. "she is a total stranger to me, and yet she reminds me of somebody else, somebody whose name i can't recall, but who is totally different. it is a strange sort of feeling that i cannot explain." "she's interested for all her haughtiness," said mrs. jessop. "i'm sure if she has asked me one question about your family, she has asked a thousand." geoffrey strolled away round the house. there was a short cut to the place where ralph was seated, and this short cut lay along the lawn. geoffrey's feet made no noise. as he passed the window of the sitting-room he looked in. the place was full of flowers, white flowers everywhere. there were azaleas and geraniums and carnations, with delicate foliage of tender green, thousands of blooms, arranged wherever a specimen glass or a bowl could go. standing with his back to the window, a man was arranging them. and the man was a hindoo, or other eastern, one of the men geoffrey had seen going through that queer incantation on the cliffs. strange, more than strange, that mrs. jessop had said nothing of him. geoffrey prudently slipped away before he had been seen. he found his uncle doggedly smoking under the hedge. he looked like patience personified. "well," he said, "have you anything wonderful to relate?" "pretty well," geoffrey replied. "to begin with, i have actually seen the lady." "ah! but go on. tell me everything, everything mind, to the minutest detail." geoffrey proceeded to explain. whether he was interesting his listener or not he could not tell, for ralph had assumed his most wooden expression; indeed, a casual spectator would have said that he was not paying the slightest attention. then he began to ask questions, in a languid way, but geoffrey could see that they were all to the point. "i should not be surprised," he said, "if the man you saw in the house was one of the men you saw on the cliffs. mrs. jessop said nothing about him, because she knew nothing. so he was arranging the lady's flowers. what flowers?" "azaleas and carnations and geraniums. nothing else." "well, there may be worse taste, if there can be bad taste with flowers. any color?" "yes, they were all white. i was a little surprised at that, considering that the lady was so dark and eastern-looking." "of course you ascertained her name?" "indeed, i did nothing of the kind. i forgot all about it. but i had a good look at her, and the description i gave you is quite correct. uncle, i don't want to seem unduly curious, but i fancy you expected to find this lady here." ralph rose to his feet slowly, and knocked out the ashes of his pipe. he turned his face toward the castle. "i am not altogether surprised," he said. not another word was said for some time. ralph appeared to be deeply cogitating, so deeply that geoffrey asked of what he was thinking. "i was thinking," ralph said slowly, yet drily, and with the same dense manner, "that a pair of dark, gold-rimmed glasses would improve my personal appearance." chapter xvi the white flowers surely enough, when ralph ravenspur came into the great hall, where tea was being served, he was wearing a pair of dark glasses, with gold rims. slight as the alteration was in itself, it changed him almost beyond recognition. he had been doing something to his face also, for the disfiguring scar had practically disappeared. as he came feeling his way to a chair, the slight thread of conversation snapped altogether. "don't mind me," he said quietly. "you will get used to the change, and you cannot deny it is a change for the better. one of the causes leading to this vanity was a remark i overheard on the part of one of the servants. she expressed the opinion that i should look better in glasses. that opinion i shared. i have no doubt the maid was correct." all this was uttered in the dry, soft, caustic manner ralph constantly affected. nobody answered, mostly because it was assumed that no reply was expected. with a cup of tea in his hand ralph began to speak of other things. leading from the hall was a big conservatory. here marion was busy among her flowers. she was singing gently as she snipped a bud here and there, and vera was helping her. curled up in a leisure chair, geoffrey was absorbed in a book. the smoke from his cigarette circled round his head. ralph placed his cup down again and felt his way into the conservatory. he stood in the doorway listening to the controversy going on beyond. "i don't fancy i shall like it," said vera. "it will be too cold, too funereal." "my dear child," marion cried, "then we will abandon the idea. only don't forget that it was your own suggestion. you said it would look chaste." "did i really! then i had forgotten about it. and we are not going to abandon the idea. it shall not be said that i change my mind like a weathercock. the flowers on the dinner table to-night are all going to be white." marion paused in the act of cutting a lily. "i don't fancy i would," she urged. "after all, second thoughts are best. white flowers on a table do suggest a funeral, that is if they are all white. and in an unfortunate house like this anything melancholy is to be discouraged. i think i will throw these blooms away----" "you will do nothing of the kind," vera cried. "white it shall be, and you and i shall arrange them in the best possible style. why, you have enough already. come along and we'll 'fix' up the table at once. uncle ralph, how you startled me." "did i?" ralph said coolly. "i fancy it is my mission in life to startle people. what have you two been quarreling about?" "we were not quarreling," vera replied. "marion insists that white flowers on a dinner-table are cold and chilly, not to say funereal. i say they are chaste and elegant. and, to prove that i am right, the table to-night will be decorated with white flowers." "not with my consent," marion laughed. "i have set my face dead against the whole business. but spoilt vera always gets her own way." vera smiled as she passed on with an armful of the nodding white flowers. ralph passed slowly into the conservatory and closed the stained-glass door behind him. then he crossed the tiled floor rapidly as if his eyes were all that could be desired, and slipped up a glass panel at the far end of the conservatory. from this point there was a sheer fall down the cliffs on to a hard sandy beach below. "just the same," ralph muttered. "nothing altered. and just as easy." he crossed the tiles again and passed into the great stone flagged hall in his slow way. then he proceeded to light his pipe and strolled into the grounds. past the terrace he went until he came to the cliffs where he was out of sight of the house. then with the confidence of the mountain goat he made his way to the beach, the hard strip of beach that lay under the shadow of the castle. here he fumbled for some time among the damp slippery rocks, feeling for something with infinite care and patience. his perseverance was rewarded at last. his hands lay on a mass of flowers, damp and sodden and yet comparatively fresh. he lifted one to his nostrils and sniffed it. "as i thought," he said, "as i expected. how cunning it all is, how beautifully worked out! and nothing, however small, is left to chance. well, i came home in the nick of time, and i have found an ally i can depend upon. only it was just as well not to let geoffrey know that i knew of jessop's lodger before to-day. i wonder if my lady guesses how carefully she is being watched." half an hour later ralph was in the castle again, wandering about in his restless way and appearing to be interested in nothing, as usual. presently the great bell began to clang in the turret, and the family partly gathered in the dining room before dinner. vera was the last to arrive. "how lovely you look," geoffrey whispered. vera laughed and colored. she had a white dress without ornament and without flowers, save a deep red rose in her hair. "that red rose is the crowning touch," said geoffrey. "i thought it was to be all white to-night," ralph said. he had caught the whispered words, as he seemed to catch everything. "was that not so, vera?" "not for me, sir," vera replied. "i am in white." "i wish you could see her," geoffrey said tenderly, "she looks lovely. her eyes are so blue, her skin is like the sunny side of a peach." "and your tongue is like that of a goose," vera laughed. "never mind, uncle ralph. never mind. if you can't have the inestimable advantage of gazing on my perfect beauty, you shall have the privilege of sitting by me at dinner." geoffrey pleaded with comic despair, but vera was obdurate. as the bell clanged again, she laid a hand light as thistledown on ralph's arm. she was brighter and more gay than usual this evening and marion played up to her, as she always did. the elders were silent. perhaps the white flowers on the table checked them. they were so suggestive of the wreaths on a coffin. when once the cloth was drawn in the good old-fashioned way, and the decanters and lamps and glasses stood mirrored in the shining dark mahogany, the resemblance was more marked than ever. the long strip of white damask, whereon lamps and flowers and decanters rested, might have been a winding sheet. rupert ravenspur protested moodily. "it's dreadful in a house like this," he said. "who did it?" "i am the culprit, dearest," vera admitted prettily. "marion did all in her power to prevent me, but i would have my own foolish way. if you will forgive me i will promise that it shall not occur again." rupert ravenspur smiled. it was only when he was looking at vera that the tender relaxation came over his stern old face. then his eyes fixed on the flowers and they seemed to draw him forward. "you are forgiven," he said. "marion was right, as she always is. what should we do without your cheerfulness and good advice? upon my word i feel as if those flowers were drawing all the reason out of me." nobody replied. it was a strange and curious thing that everybody seemed to be regarding the waxen blossoms in the same dull, sleepy, fascinating way. all eyes were turned upon them as eyes are turned upon some thrilling, repulsive performance. the silence was growing oppressive and painful. geoffrey gave a little gasp and laid his hand upon his chest. "what is it?" he said. "there is a pain here like a knife. i am burning." nobody took the faintest notice. only ralph seemed to be alive, and yet there was no kind of expression on his face. heads were drawing nearer and nearer to the vases where the graceful flowers were grouped--those innocent looking blooms which were the emblems of all that was fair and fine and beautiful. what did it mean, what strange mystery was here? nobody could speak, nobody wanted to speak; all were sinking, lulled and soothed into a poppyland sleep, even geoffrey who seemed to be fighting for something he knew not what. then ralph reached out his hand to the foot of the table. his long, lean fingers were tangled in the strip of damask down the mahogany table on which lamps and decanters and glasses and dishes of fruit were placed. with a vigorous pull he brought the whole thing crashing on the polished floor, where two pools of paraffin made a blaze of the wreck that ralph had caused. then he slid over the floor and opened one of the windows, letting in the pure air fresh from the north sea. chapter xvii whence did they come? in the darkness nobody spoke for a moment. not one of them could have said anything for a king's ransom. apart from the feeling of suffocation, the gradual poppy sleep of death that filled the room as a great wave suddenly engulfs some rocky cave, the dramatic horror of the darkness held them fast. at the same time there was something of a shock, a healthy shock in the plunge from light to gloom. a fitful purple gleam still flickered where the blazing paraffin had licked the hard oak polished floor; the breath of the sea breeze was bracing. it was marion who first came to herself as one comes out of a horrid nightmare. "oh, oh," she shuddered. "who opened the window?" nobody responded for a moment. ralph had crept to geoffrey's side. it was marvelous how he found his way in the intense darkness. "say you did it," he whispered. "you must say you did it. speak." "i suppose i did," geoffrey murmured. "i seem to recollect something of the kind." "you have saved our lives," said marion. "will somebody ring the bell?" servants came without much dismay or surprise. they were used to amazing things at ravenspur. it would have caused no more than a painful sensation to come in some night after dinner and find the whole family murdered. "bring more lamps," ralph ravenspur said quietly. lamps were brought. the disordered litter on the floor was swept up, the broken globes, the dainty china, the glass and silver. the white flowers were no longer there. this was a puzzle to everybody but ralph, who had gathered them at the first distraction, and thrown them out of the window. there was silence for a minute or two after the servants had withdrawn. then rupert ravenspur dashed his fist on the table in a passion of despair. "great heaven!" he said. "how long, how long? how much more of this is it possible to bear and still retain the powers of reason? what was it?" "could it have been the flowers?" vera suggested. "it was my fault." "no, no," marion cried. "why your fault? those white blossoms were innocent enough; we packed them ourselves, we arranged them together." "still, i believe it was the flowers," geoffrey observed. "why should they have fascinated us in that strange way? it was horrible!" horrible indeed, and not the less so because the horrible was not conspicuous by its absence. that innocent flowers, pure white blossoms, could lend themselves to a dark mystery like this was almost maddening. and yet it must have been so, for no sooner had the flowers been removed and the air of heaven had entered the room than the grip and bitterness of death were past. "i am sure we were near the end," marion cried. "geoff, was it you who snatched the cloth from the table?" geoffrey was about to deny the suggestion when his eyes fell upon ralph's face. it was eager, almost pleading in its aspect. like a flash the changing expression was gone. "it must have been mechanical," geoffrey murmured. "one does those things and calls them impulses. inspiration would be a better expression, i fancy." they crowded round him and gave him their thanks, all save ralph, who sat drumming his fingers on the table as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. nothing seemed to draw him out of his environment. still, it was another man who came creeping to geoffrey's room when the lights were extinguished and the castle was wrapped in slumber. there was an inner room lying out over the sea, which geoffrey used indifferently for a smoking room and study. "i can smoke my pipe here without a chance of our being overheard," he said. "well, was the adventure this evening creepy enough for you?" geoffrey shuddered slightly. flagrant, rioting dangers would have had no terrors for him. it was the unseen that played on the nerves of imagination. "horrible," he said, "but why this mystery?" "as far as i am concerned, you mean? my dear geoffrey, it is imperative that i should be regarded by everybody as a poor blind worm who is incapable for good or evil. i want people to pity me, to make way for me, to treat me as if i were of no account, a needless cumberer of the ground. i want to see that you prevent these tragedies by sheer chance. i will strike when the time comes!" the hoarse voice had sunk to a whisper, the sightless eyes rolled, the thin fingers crooked as if dragging down an unseen foe to destruction. as suddenly ralph changed his mood and laughed noiselessly. "let us not prophesy," he said. "what did you think of the episode?" "i don't know what to think about it." "then you have no theory to offer?" "no, uncle. i am in the dark. that is where the keen edge of the terror comes in. i should say it was the flowers. as the atmosphere of the room grew warmer, as the heat from the lamps drew out the fragrance of the blooms, the perfume seemed to become overpowering. the perfume riveted attention, arrested the senses, and gradually sense and feeling appeared to go altogether." "perfectly right, geoffrey. still, there is nothing very wonderful about it. lucretia borgia used the same means to despatch her victims. a poisoned bouquet was a favorite weapon of hers, you remember." "but the poison there was conveyed through the palms of the hands. why do we never hear of that sort of poison nowadays?" ralph smiled as he refilled his pipe. "i've got some of it myself," he said, "or at least tchigorsky has. it is poor, inartistic stuff, compared to some of the poisons known to tchigorsky and myself. there are eastern poisons unknown to science; toxicology little dreams of the drugs that tchigorsky and your poor uncle wot of. "you are right. those flowers were impregnated with the deadly drug that comes out with warmth. it comes as quickly as a breath of wind and does its work and vanishes almost immediately, leaving no trace behind. another minute and the whole family of ravenspur had been no more. there would have been a fearful sensation: doctors would have discoursed learnedly--and vaguely--and there would have been an end to the matter. not a soul in england would have had the remotest idea of the source of the tragedy. look here." from under his coat ralph produced a single white carnation. "that was on the table to-night," he said. "take it in your hands. smell it. do you recognize anything beyond the legitimate perfume?" geoffrey held the perfect bloom to his nostrils. he could detect nothing further. "it seems to me to be as innocent as beautiful," he said. "so it is, so it is--at present. give it me back again. see, i have here a little white, dull powder. in it is the one-thousandth part of a grain of the deadly drug. i dust the powder on the carnation, thus. the natural moisture in the leaves absorbs it and the flower presents a normal aspect. smell it." "i smell nothing at all," said geoffrey. "not yet. hold it to the lamp for ten seconds." geoffrey did so. at the end of the brief space he placed it to his nostrils as ralph suggested. immediately a drowsy feeling came over him, a desire for sleep, a desire to be at rest in body and mind, in heart and pulses. indeed, it seemed to him as if his heart had stopped already. through a yellow scented mist he seemed to see his uncle and hear the latter's voice commanding him to drop the carnation. he could not have done it to save himself from destruction. then the flower was plucked away. "how long have i been asleep?" he asked, suddenly opening his eyes. "you have been across the styx and back in exactly fifty seconds," ralph said gravely. "now you see the effect of that stuff. wonderfully artistic, isn't it?" geoffrey gazed at the flower with sickening horror. ralph seemed to divine this, for he picked it up, sniffed it coolly and placed it in his button-hole. "the evil effect has gone, believe me," he said. "the dose was very small, and i did not mix it with water, which makes a difference." "still, i don't follow," geoffrey said. "we know those flowers were cut and arranged by vera and marion. it would have been impossible for any one to have entered the dining-room and replaced them with other white flowers. and for anybody to have had the time to impregnate them one by one--oh, it is impossible!" "not at all, geoffrey. a mystery is like a conjuring trick--seemingly insoluble, but you know how it is done, and then it becomes bald and commonplace. suppose the stuff is mixed with water and the mixture placed in a small spray worked by an india-rubber ball. then one goes into the dining hall for half a minute, gives two or three rapid motions of the hand, and the thing is accomplished." "yes, that sounds easy. you speak as if you knew who did it." "yes," ralph said, with one of his spasmodic smiles, "i do." "you know the author of this dastardly thing. tell me." "not yet. i dare not tell you, because you are young and might betray yourself. i could not confide my secret to any one, even the best detective in england. it is only known to tchigorsky and myself. you shall help me in drawing the net around the miscreants, but you must not ask me that." "and to-night's doings are to remain a secret?" "of course. nobody is to know anything. they may conjecture as much as they like. good heavens, if any one in the house were to know what i have told you to-night, all my work would be undone. you are my instrument, by which i ward off danger without attracting attention to myself. you are the unsuspecting boy, who by sheer good luck foils the enemy. keep it up, keep it up; for so long as you appear young and unsophisticated, there is less of the deadly danger." chapter xviii mrs. mona may geoffrey was slightly puzzled but, like a good soldier, he asked no questions. more and more he was coming to recognize that it was ralph's to command and his to obey. doubtless ralph had some good reason when he treated his nephew like a puppet, but then the puppet was a long way from a fool, and as the days went on, it came home to him with an increasing force that he had a master mind to deal with. he had been told off this afternoon to lurk more or less concealed at the top of the steep pitch leading to the village, and there wait until something happened. it came at the end of a few minutes in the shape of a lady in perfect cycling costume, wheeling a machine up the hill towards jessop's farm. as she came nearer to the spot where geoffrey was smoking, a ragged nomad sprang from the hedge and demanded alms. the man was coarse and threatening, he was by no means sober, and his demands took the by no means modest form of a shilling. a second later there was a slight scream and geoffrey darted forward. the sight of a woman in distress sufficed for him; ralph was forgotten in an instant. there was a scuffle and a plunge, a rapid exit of the nomad and, hat in hand, geoffrey was receiving the thanks of a beautiful woman, who was pleased to assure him that he was her preserver. "it is nothing," geoffrey stammered, "nothing, really." it was not usual for him to be confused like this. but then he was standing face to face with the handsome stranger who had taken mr. jessop's rooms, the lady with the love of white flowers, the woman who employed oriental servants, who were given to strange incantations, the creature in whom ralph ravenspur had taken so vivid an interest. and geoffrey's confusion grew none the less as it flashed upon him that the intoxicated tramp had been the god in the car designed by ralph to bring this introduction about. he steadied himself. there was work before him now. "you exaggerate my poor services," he said. "not at all, i assure you," the lady said. her eyes held a strange fascination; her voice was low and sweetly sedative. she was years older than geoffrey, but just the kind of siren who drove young men mad, or lured them to destruction. "few strangers would have faced so formidable an opponent for me." "most of my countrymen would," geoffrey said. "i hope you have a better opinion of englishmen than that. but englishmen are not favorites abroad." the dark eyes were dancing with amusement. "you are under the impression that i am not english?" she asked. "well, there is a certain grace," geoffrey stammered, "that spoke of----" "foreign blood. precisely. but all the same, i am proud to call myself an englishwoman. my name is mrs. may--mona may. you are mr. geoffrey ravenspur." "at your service. i had the pleasure of seeing you the other morning in mrs. jessop's kitchen. meanwhile, to prevent any further trouble from our predatory friend, i am going to walk with you as far as the farm." mrs. may raised no objection; on the contrary, she seemed pleased with the idea. she was dangerous, she was mixed up in some way with the conspiracy against the peace and happiness of the house of ravenspur, and yet geoffrey found it hard to resist her fascinations. she spoke almost perfect english, her dress, and style and manner were insular, but there was a flashing grace about her, a suggestion of something warm and eastern, that gleamed and flashed in spite of her cycling dress and the wheel she pushed along so skillfully. she gave a sigh of regret as the farmhouse was reached. "well, i suppose we must part," she said. "really, it seems years since i spoke to a gentleman and i have only been here for days. i have been ordered absolute rest and quietness for the benefit of my health and, upon my word, i am getting it. would you take pity upon my loneliness and come to tea?" many an older man than geoffrey had been excused from yielding to such a request. those eyes were so dark and pleading, and the man was young. besides, he had an excuse. had not his uncle ralph planned this thing and was it not intended to bring about an introduction! besides, once inside that room, it might be possible to find something that in the future would yield great results. "i shall be only too pleased," geoffrey murmured. "then come along," mrs. may said gaily. "if you are fond of a good cup of tea, then i have some of the most perfect in the world." she led the way into the old-fashioned drawing-room, which she had rendered beautiful with flowers. the stiff furniture looked stiff no longer. the hand of an artistic woman had been here and the whole aspect was changed. "you should have seen it when i came here," mrs. may smiled as she followed geoffrey's glance. "it was like a condemned cell. and yet there are things of price here. a little alteration and a few flowers--ah, what a difference flowers make!" she pointed to her own floral decorations. the room was ablaze with them. and they were all scarlet. there was not a single bloom of any other kind to be seen. "they match my style of beauty," mrs. may laughed. "i never have any other here." "you do not care for white flowers?" geoffrey asked. "i abhor them. they suggest beautiful maidens cut off in their prime, dead children, the tomb, and all kinds of horrors. i would not have one in the house." geoffrey was discreetly silent. remembering the hundreds of white flowers he himself had seen in this very room not so long ago, this speech staggered him. in a dazed kind of way he watched mrs. may light a spirit lamp under a silver kettle, after which she excused herself on the score of fetching the famous tea. geoffrey picked up an album and turned the leaves over rapidly. there were soldiers, one or two native indian officials, a great number of society people, professional beauties, and the like and--and marion! yes, her fair tender face smiled from the embossed, richly gilt page. the picture had been taken some years ago, but there was no mistaking those pure features. geoffrey closed the book and walked over to the window. surprise upon surprise had come upon him lately, but this was staggering. when mrs. may returned he was himself again. he could answer her questions gaily and smoothly. it was only when he was on his way home again that he recollected how much information he had imparted and how little he had got in return. "you must come and see me again," mrs. may said. "now, can't you come up some evening and dine with me? say thursday. unless i hear from you to the contrary i shall see you on thursday at seven. a primitive time, but then we are in the country." "you may be certain," geoffrey said carelessly, "that i shall come if possible. good-bye, mrs. may. in ordinary circumstances my people would have called upon you. you will know why it is impossible." mrs. may pressed geoffrey's hand with gentle sympathy. "you have my real regrets," she said. "what a horrible thing it is to think that you are all powerless to help it. good-bye." geoffrey found ralph at the entrance to the castle gate. there was a queer smile on his face, a smile of amused expectation. "you found her charming?" he asked. "and clever," said geoffrey. "i guessed your plot, uncle. she is very clever." "the cleverest woman in the world, the most wicked, the most unscrupulous. of course she asked you to dinner, and, of course, you will go. nobody is to know of it, mind." "uncle, how did you guess that?" "i'll tell you presently. and i'll tell you many things you will have to say and leave unsaid to--mrs. may." "tell me why marion's photograph is in her album." "so she showed you that!" "no, i found it out by accident. is marion connected with her?" "very closely, indeed. she is marion's evil genius. and yet through that pure and innocent girl we are going to strike at the heart of the mystery. ask me no questions, now; to-night we will go carefully into the matter." chapter xix vera is not pleased any stranger looking along the terrace at ravenspur would have been inclined to envy the lot of those who had their habitation there. it looked so grand, so dignified, so peaceful. brilliant sunshine shone upon the terrace; against the grey stone of the grand old façade, the emerald green of the lawns rose refreshing to the eyes, those old lawns like velvet that only come with the passing of centuries. people from the rush and fret of cities, excursionists, who had their sordid, humdrum life in towns, turned longing eyes to ravenspur. anybody who lived in a place like that must be happy. and some of them looked it. geoffrey, for instance, as he lounged on the terrace with a cigarette between his strong white teeth. he was seated with a cap over his eyes and appeared to be given over to a pleasant reverie. a rod and an empty fishing basket stood by his side. ralph ravenspur lounged up to him. perhaps he had been waiting for his nephew. at any rate, he always knew where to find him. he sat with the sunshine full upon his sightless eyes and smoked his pipe placidly. "there is nobody about?" he asked. "nobody," geoffrey replied. "do you want to say anything to me?" ralph made no reply. geoffrey watched him curiously. "do you know you seem to be a long way off to me this afternoon?" he said presently. "i can't quite explain my meaning. since you have worn those glasses you look a different man. there, now you are yourself again." ralph had taken off the glasses for a moment. "is the difference very marked?" ralph asked. "very marked, indeed. honestly, i should not have known you." ralph gave a sigh, whether of sorrow or satisfaction geoffrey could not say. "time will prove whether the disguise is of any value or not," he said. "i came to ask you about this evening. are you going?" "of course i am. mrs. mona may fascinates me. on the whole, i have deemed it advisable to say nothing to the others. we cannot call upon mrs. may and they need not know that i have had any intercourse with her." ralph nodded. perhaps he alone knew the real need for secrecy in this matter. "quite right," he said. "the less said the better. she wrote to you, of course?" "oh, yes. i had the letter yesterday." "and destroyed it, of course?" "upon my word, i've forgotten. i see you are angry with me. well, i will try not to make a similar mistake again." from the expression of his face ralph was greatly moved. his features flamed with anger, he was trembling with passion to his finger-tips. then his mood suddenly changed. he laid a kindly hand on geoffrey's knee. "my boy," he said, earnestly. "there are reasons, weighty reasons why i cannot take you entirely into my confidence. if i did so, you would see the vital necessity of caution even in the most minute matters. you will see that mrs. may's letter is destroyed at once." "i will, uncle. the rest of the family believe i am going to alton to-night." ralph nodded. he seemed already to have forgotten the circumstances. he had fallen into one of those waking reveries that were deep as sleep to most men. geoffrey spoke to him more than once, but failed to gain the slightest attention. then ralph rose and moved away like a man in a dream. geoffrey lounged about till he had finished his cigarette. he tossed the end away and then proceeded towards the house. he would get that letter and destroy it without further delay. but this was easier said than done, for the simple reason that the letter was nowhere to be found. high and low geoffrey searched for it, but all to no purpose. had he left it in the dining-room or the library? possibly in the latter place, seeing that he had written a couple of notes there earlier in the day. it was dim, not to say gloomy in the library, and for a moment geoffrey failed to see that vera was seated at the table. he crossed over and touched her caressingly on the cheek. she looked up coldly. "what are you looking for?" she asked. "a letter, dearest," geoffrey replied. "but why do you look so strange----" "oh, you ask me that! it is a letter you are looking for. then perhaps i may be so fortunate as to assist you. i have just found a letter lying here addressed to you. as it lay with face open i could not but read it. see here!" a square of thick scented notepaper filled with a dashing black caligraphy shook before geoffrey's eyes. it was mrs. may's writing beyond a doubt. geoffrey flushed slightly as he took the note. "read it," vera said quietly, "read it aloud." geoffrey did so. it struck him now--it had never occurred to him before--that the writer was slightly caressing in her manner of phrasing. there was a suggestion of something warmer and more personal than the stereotyped lines implied. "so this is the alton where you are going to-night?" vera went on. "who is the woman? how long have you known her?" the quick blood came flaming to geoffrey's face. he had never seen vera hard and cold like this before. it was a woman and not a girl who was speaking now. geoffrey resented the questions; they came as a teacher addresses a child. "i cannot tell you," he said. "it has to do with the family secret." "and you expect me to believe this, geoffrey?" "of course i do," geoffrey cried. "did you ever know me tell you a lie? and, after all the years we have been together, you are going to be jealous of the first woman who comes along! have i been mistaken in you, vera?" the girl's beautiful eyes filled with tears. she had been sorely vexed and hurt, far more hurt than she cared geoffrey to know. for it seemed to her that he had wilfully deceived her, that he was going to see this creature of whom he was secretly ashamed, that he had lied so that he could seek her company without suspicion in the minds of others. "if you give me your word of honor," vera faltered, "that you----" "no, no," geoffrey cried. "i merely state the facts and you may believe them or not as you please. who mrs. may is i decline to say. how i became, acquainted with her i also decline to explain. suffice it that she is mrs. may, and that she has rooms at jessop's farm." "and that is all you are going to tell me, geoffrey?" "yes, vera. if you have lost faith in me----" "oh, no, no! don't say such cruel things, geoff. whom have i beyond my parents and you in the whole world! and when i found that letter, when i knew what you said about alton was--was not true----" she paused unable to proceed. her little hands went out imploringly and geoffrey caught them in his own. he drew her to his side and gazed into her eyes. "darling," he whispered, "you know that i love you?" "yes, dear, it was foolish of me to doubt it." "i love you now and always. i can never change. i did not intend to tell you about this woman because it was all part of the secret. the wise man among us has said it, and his word is law. i am speaking of uncle ralph." vera nodded with a brighter glance. had not she a secret in common with ralph? "say no more," she whispered. "i am ashamed of myself." geoffrey kissed the quivering red lips passionately. "spoken like my own, vera," he said. "now i will give you my word of honor----" "no, no. it is not necessary, geoff. i was foolish. i might have known better. not another thought will i give to mrs. mona may." vera spoke in all sincerity. but our thoughts are often our masters and they were so in this case. mona may was a name graven on vera's mind, and the time was coming when with fervent gratitude she blessed the hour when she had found that letter. chapter xx a fascinating woman mrs. jessop's simple parlor had been transformed beyond recognition. the fine chippendale furniture had been brought forward; the gaudy settees and sofas had been covered with fine, eastern silks and tapestries. a pair of old dresden candlesticks stood on the table, and under pink shades the candles cast a glamor of subdued light upon damask and silver and china. as geoffrey was ushered in mrs. may came forward. she was dressed entirely in black, her wonderfully fine arms and shoulders gleamed dazzling almost as the diamonds that were as frosty stars in the glorious night of her hair. one great red bloom of some flower unknown to geoffrey was in her breast. as to the rest, the flowers were all scarlet. the effect was slightly dazzling. mrs. may came forward with a smile. "so you have managed to elude the philistines," she said. "ah, i guessed that you would say nothing to your friends about our little dinner." there was an eager note in the words that conveyed a half question. geoffrey smiled. "may i venture to suggest that the knowledge is not displeasing to you?" he said. "well, i admit it. in the circumstances to explain would have been a bore. your people cannot call on me and, being old-fashioned, they might not care for you to come here alone. therefore, being a man of the world, you told them nothing about it." geoffrey smiled, as he took the proffered cigarette. had he not been warned against this woman by ralph, her subtle flattery would have put him off his guard. it is always so sweet and soothing for a youngster to be taken for a man of the world. "you have guessed it all," he said. "my grandfather is a grand seigneur. he has no toleration for anything that is not _en règle_. what an exquisite cigarette!" mrs. may nodded. they were excellent cigarettes, as also was the liqueur she insisted upon pouring out for geoffrey with her own hands. he had never tasted anything like it before. and the dinner when it came was a perfect little poem in its way. not a flask of wine on the table that had not a history. long before the meal was over geoffrey found himself forgetting his caution. not that geoffrey had anything to be afraid of. he knew that in some way this woman was connected with the tragedy of his race; for all that he knew to the contrary, she might be the spirit directing the tragedies. she was his enemy, though she smiled upon him with a dazzling fascination calculated to turn cooler heads than his. but, at any rate, she had not asked him here to poison him at her own table. mrs. mona may was too fine an artist for that. presently geoffrey came out of his dream to find himself talking. mrs. may seemed to be putting all the questions and he was giving all the answers. and yet, directly, she asked no questions at all. she was sympathetic and interested in the family, as she explained with kindness and feeling. "and there is that poor blind gentleman," she said sweetly. her eyes were bent over her dessert plate. she was peeling a peach daintily. there was just for the fraction of a second a ring in her voice that acted on geoffrey as a cold douche does to a man whose senses are blurred with liquor. some instinct told him that they were approaching the crux of the interview. "my uncle ralph," he said carelessly. "he is a mystery. he keeps himself to himself and says nothing to anybody. sometimes i fancy he is a clever man, who despises us, and at other times i regard him as a man whose misfortunes have dulled his brain and that he strives to conceal the fact." mrs. may smiled. but she returned to the charge again. but strive as she would, she could get no more on this head out of geoffrey. she wanted to know who the man was and all about him. and she learned nothing beyond the fact that he was a poor nonentity, despised by his relations. geoffrey's open sincerity puzzled her. perhaps there was nothing to learn after all. "strange that he did not stay away," she murmured, "knowing that the family curse must overtake him." geoffrey shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "what can an unfortunate like that have to live for?" he asked. "he is broken in mind and in body and has no money of his own. it is just like the old fox who crawls to the hole to die. and we are getting used to the curse by this time." "you have no hope, no expectation of the truth coming to light?" it was on the tip of geoffrey's tongue to speak freely of his hopes for the future. instead he bent his head over the table, saying nothing till he felt he had full control of his voice once more. then he spoke in the same hopeless tones. "i have become a fatalist," he said. "please change the subject." mrs. may did so discreetly and easily. and yet in a few moments the doings of the ravenspurs were on her tongue again and, almost unconsciously, geoffrey found himself talking about marion, mrs. may listening quietly. "i have seen the young lady," she said. "she has a nice face." "marion is an angel," geoffrey cried. "her face is perfect. you have only to look at her to see what she is. nobody with a countenance like that could do wrong, even if she wished it. no matter who and what it is everybody comes under marion's sway. men, women, children, dogs, all turn to her with the same implicit confidence." "marion seems to be a warm favorite," mrs. may smiled. "and yet i rather gather that she does not hold first place in your affections?" "i am engaged to my cousin vera," geoffrey explained. "we were boy and girl lovers before marion came to us. otherwise--well, we need not go into that. but i never saw any one like marion till to-night." mrs. may looked up swiftly. "what do you mean by that?" she asked. "i mean exactly what i say. in certain ways, in certain lights, under certain conditions your face is marvelously like that of marion." as geoffrey spoke he saw that the blood had left the cheek of his companion. her face was deadly pale, so pale that the crimson flower in her breast seemed to grow vivid. there was a motion of the elbow and a wine glass went crashing to the floor. the woman stooped to raise the fragments. "how clumsy of me!" she said. "and why are you regarding me so intently? my heart is a little wrong, the doctors tell me--nothing serious, however. there!" she looked up again. she had recovered and her face was tinged with the red flush of health again. but her hands still shook. but geoffrey was taking no heed. he had dropped the match he was about to apply to his cigarette and was staring out of the window. the blind had not been drawn; the panes were framed with flowers. and inside that dark circle there came a face, a dark eastern face, with awful eyes, filled with agony and rage and pain. across the dusky forehead was a cut from which blood streamed freely. "you are not listening to me," mrs. may cried. "what is the matter?" "the face, a face at the window," geoffrey gasped. "a horrible-looking man, not of this country at all; a man with a gash in his forehead. he seemed to be looking for something. when he caught sight of me he disappeared." mrs. may had risen and crossed to the long french window opening on to the lawn. her back was towards geoffrey and she seemed determined, or so he imagined, to keep her face concealed from him. "strange," she said, carelessly, though she was obviously disturbed. "surely you were mistaken. some trick of the brain, a freak of imagination." geoffrey laughed. young men at his time of life, men, who follow healthy pursuits, are not given to tricks of the imagination. his pulse was beating steadily; his skin was moist and cool. "i am certain of it," he said. "what is that noise?" something was calling down the garden. long before this time the good people of the farm had gone to bed. "shall i go and see what it is?" geoffrey asked. "no, no," mrs. may whispered. "stay here, i implore you. i would not have had this happen for anything. what am i saying?" she passed her hand cross her face and laughed unsteadily. "there are secrets in everybody's life and there are in mine," she said. "stay till i return. there will be no danger for me, i assure you." she slipped out into the darkness and was gone. geoffrey stooped and bent over a dark blot or two that lay on the stone still at the bottom of the window. "blood," he muttered, "blood beyond a doubt. it was no delusion of mine." from outside came the swish of silken drapery. it was mrs. may returning. she seemed herself again by this time. "the danger is past," she said, "if danger you choose to call it. the next time we meet we shall laugh together over this comedy. i assure you it is a comedy. and now i am going to ask you to leave me." the woman was playing a part and playing it extremely well. with less innate knowledge, geoffrey would have been thoroughly deceived. as it was, he affected to make light of the matter. he held out his hand with a smile. "i am glad of that," he said. "you must let me come again, when, perhaps, you may be disposed to allow me to assist you. good-night and thank you for one of the pleasantest evenings of my life." the door closed behind geoffrey, and he stumbled along in the darkness until his eyes became accustomed to the gloom. out in the road some one crept up to him and laid a hand on his arm. like a flash geoffrey had him by the throat. "speak, or i will kill you," he whispered. "who are you?" "come with me at once," came the hoarse reply. "and release that grip of my throat. i am sergius tchigorsky." chapter xxi the mystery deepens geoffrey recognized the deep rasping tones of tchigorsky directly. his hand dropped to his side. no need to tell him that danger was in the air. it was the thick, still kind of night that goes with adventure. "something has happened?" geoffrey asked. "something is going to happen unless we prevent it," tchigorsky replied. "the enemy has been foiled three times lately and is getting uneasy. he begins to realize that he has to cope with somebody who understands the game. it is no use to work in this deadly mysterious fashion as long as certain people can read the danger signals and act upon them, and therefore it has been decided to fall back upon more vulgar methods. you are not afraid of danger?" "not in the least. try me." "the danger is great. you are dealing with some of the cleverest people on earth. if you are discovered you will be put away. your courage will be tested to the utmost. are you ready?" geoffrey hesitated but for a moment. his senses seemed to be braced and strengthened. he seemed to hear better all at once; his eyes penetrated farther into the gloom. there was a feeling of eagerness, of exultation upon him. he took tchigorsky's lean claw and laid it upon his left wrist. "feel that," he said. "is not my pulse steady? i am longing to go forward. only give me a chance to find the truth." tchigorsky chuckled. this was the kind of grit he admired. "you will do," he said. "and you will go alone on your expedition. you are acquainted with all the vaults and passages of the castle by this time; every inch of the ground is known to you. give me your coat and shoes." geoffrey handed them over, getting a pair of rubber-soled shoes and a rough pea jacket in exchange. in the pocket of the latter he found a revolver. "now what am i to do?" he demanded. "stand here," tchigorsky explained. "presently you will see a figure or two, perhaps more. you will not understand what they are saying, but that makes no difference. you are to follow them, stick to them. if nothing happens by dawn you can afford to leave them to their own devices. if circumstances place you in dire peril, be brave, for help is not far off." geoffrey might have asked another question or two. but tchigorsky turned away abruptly and was speedily lost in the darkness. and then followed for geoffrey the most trying part of the business, waiting for the first sign of the foe. half an hour passed and still no sign. had the affair miscarried and the miscreants got away in some other direction? strain his ears as he would, geoffrey could catch nothing. then at length something soft and rustling seemed to be creeping along on the lawn on the other side of the hedge. geoffrey crept through the gate into the garden. almost instantly he dropped on his face, for somebody carrying a lantern was softly creeping in his direction. it was the figure of a woman, a woman who had a black lace shawl so wrapped about her that in the feeble light it was impossible to make out her features. she paused and made a hissing sound between her teeth. as if they had been evolved out of geoffrey's inner consciousness, there appeared two men upon the lawn one was lying on his back, his head supported on the arm of his companion. they were indian natives of some kind, but of what race precisely geoffrey could not say. the prostrate man had an ugly cut across his forehead; it was the same man that geoffrey had seen looking through the window. a crafty, ugly, sinister face it was, full of cunning malignity. the eyes were dull, but the fires of hate were still in them. the woman stooped down and produced cool bandages soaked in some pungent liquid, which she proceeded to bind round the brows of the injured man. even at his respectful distance geoffrey could catch the odor of the bandages. he watched the weird midnight scene with breathless interest. there was something creepy about the whole business. if these people had nothing to conceal, all this surgical work might have taken place indoor; they might have called assistance. geoffrey tried to catch sight of the woman's features. but that was impossible. still, there was something familiar about her. geoffrey felt quite sure that he had seen that graceful figure before. she stood up presently and geoffrey no longer had any doubt. it was mrs. mona may. the injured man rose also. he staggered along on the arm of his companion and geoffrey could with some difficulty see them enter the sitting room. he paused in some doubt as to his next move, but before he was called upon to decide, mrs. may and the other native came out again. evidently they had left the injured man behind. then they emerged into the road and started off rapidly toward the cliffs. "going some way by the pace they are walking," geoffrey muttered, "and at the same time they must be back before daylight, or they would never have dared to leave that fellow at jessop's. what a good thing i know the country." geoffrey followed at a respectful distance, his rubber shoes making no sound. for the time of year the night was intensely dark, which was in geoffrey's favor. also, with his close knowledge of the locality, he had no fear of making mistakes. the couple were not more than fifty yards ahead of him. they had not the slightest idea they were being followed, seeing that they were talking earnestly and none too quietly in a language that was greek to geoffrey. now and again he caught the low laugh that came from the woman's lips. by and by the cliffs were reached, and here the two began to descend a path that would have been dangerous to unaccustomed feet even in the broad daylight. but the man seemed to know the way perfectly and the woman followed without hesitation. they came presently to the firm sand, fringed by the ebbing tide. then they turned to the right, pausing at length before a solid-looking expanse of cliff that stood right under ravenspur castle. one moment they loomed darkly against the brown rocks, the next minute they seemed to be swallowed up by the cliffs. they had entered the mouth of a cave. geoffrey followed still more cautiously. on and on they went, until at length they paused. then the light from the lantern grew stronger. from behind a ledge of seaweed-clad granite geoffrey watched them furtively. they were waiting for something--a signal, probably--before going farther. the signal seemed to come at last, from where it was impossible for geoffrey to judge, and then the advance was resumed. presently they emerged into the deep below-tide level vault under the castle, where geoffrey had seen marion walking in her sleep. mrs. may turned to her companion and gave him some sharp command. she had lost all her levity and geoffrey could see that her dark eyes were glowing. the native salaamed and laid his hand upon the lantern. the next instant the place was plunged into pitchy darkness. five, ten minutes passed, and nothing was heard but the lap of the ebbing tide on the shore. then a hand was gently laid on geoffrey's arm. chapter xxii deeper still so startled was geoffrey that he felt the moisture spurt from every pore like a rash. but, fully conscious of his danger, he suppressed the cry that rose to his lips, nor did he move as he felt a thick cloak thrown over his head. he slipped his revolver into his hand and fumbled it against the cold cheek of his antagonist. but the antagonist took it coolly. a pair of lips were close to geoffrey's ear and the smallest, faintest voice spelt out the letters, t-c-h-i-g-o-r-s-k-y. geoffrey put the weapon back in his pocket. at the same time he felt about till his fingers touched the hand of his companion. no doubt about it. the other was tchigorsky beyond question. perhaps he had been testing geoffrey's courage and resolution; perhaps the danger had deepened unexpectedly. presently the light of the lantern popped up again, in response to some subtle signal, and once more the conspirators moved on to the vault above. tchigorsky lifted his head. "where are they going?" geoffrey asked. tchigorsky responded with one of his diabolical chuckles. "they imagine that they are going into the castle," he said. "but they are not going to accomplish that part of the program." "but what do they want there?" "what should they want? you know something of those now whose business it is to wipe you out root and branch. more artistic methods having failed, they may deem it necessary to fall back on more vulgar plans. there are five people sleeping in the castle--six with your uncle ralph--who stand in the way. it is possible if the fiends are lucky that the castle may be devoid of life by daybreak." geoffrey could not repress a shudder. "fiends, indeed!" he said. "but why not stop it? why not let them enter and then take them all red-handed?" "what could we gain by that? we could not connect them with past crimes! at worst they would get a few months in gaol as suspects. when the time comes we must smash them all. and the time is coming." tchigorsky rose as if to go. "i follow them," he said, "you remain here, in the darkness. and if any one attempts to pass you do not let him do so. don't forget this thing. at all hazards you are not to let any one pass." geoffrey nodded as tchigorsky passed on his way. for a long time all was quiet, and then from above there came a startled cry followed by the sound of strife and a scream of pain and terror. it was all that geoffrey could do to restrain himself from yelling in response and rushing to the spot. then he became conscious that somebody was coming rapidly through the cave. he reached out his hand and grabbed at and caught a sinewy, slippery brown ankle. it only needed that touch to tell geoffrey that he was at grips with the native. down the fellow came on the slippery rocks, and the next instant the two were engaged in a life or death struggle. young, strong, vigorous as he was, his muscle knitted like iron with healthy exercise, geoffrey knew that he had met his match. the native had a slight advantage of him in point of years; he was greased from head to foot, rendering a grip difficult, and his flying robe came asunder like cobwebs at the first strain. he fought with the _abandon_ of a man who is reckless of life. over and over on the slippery rocks they rolled, each striving to get the other by the throat. by this time they were both breathing thick and fast, and geoffrey's mind began to wander toward his revolver. but to release his grip to get that might be fatal. he could hear his antagonist gasping as he rolled off a ledge of rock, and then geoffrey lifted his opponent's head and brought it down with a bang on the granite. in the very instant of his triumph something whistled behind him, and a jagged piece of stone came smashing on to his temple. he had a confused view of a native on his feet again, fast hurrying away, heard the rustle of garments and a further rustle of more garments, and then his arm was closed upon a female figure whom he pulled to the ground by his side. he felt the woman open her lips to scream, but he clapped his hand over her mouth. "no, you don't," he said grimly. "one of you has escaped and my friend the nigger has had a narrow escape, but i've got you, my lady. i've got you safe and i don't mean to let you go." he felt the slight figure in his arms tremble and palpitate; he heard voices above. once more the slim figure shivered. his hand was torn from her mouth and the woman spoke. "they are calling you," she said; "for god's sake let me go, geoffrey." for an instant geoffrey was too dazed and stunned to speak. "marion?" he gasped presently. "marion?" marion cowered down, sobbing bitterly. "you are surprised," she said. "no wonder. you wonder what i am doing here and i will tell you presently. but not now; i will place my secret in your hands; i will disguise nothing from you. for the present leave me." "leave you here! impossible!" "but i am safe, quite safe, geoffrey. oh, if you have any feeling for one of the most miserable creatures in the world, leave me. tell them above that those abandoned wretches have gone, that no sign of them remains. consider what i have suffered and am suffering for your family, and try to help me." conscious of his own weakness, geoffrey pondered. he might be doing a serious injury to the delicate plans formed by ralph ravenspur, but he had given the promise and there was an end of the matter. marion was in some way bound up with these people, but marion was pure as the angels and marion would do no wrong. why, then, should her good name be dragged in the mire? "you are so good, so good to me," marion murmured. "go before they become alarmed at your silence and leave me here. say that you saw nothing. and when the house is quiet i shall make my way back again." geoffrey retired upwards without further words. in the basement of the castle he found tchigorsky and ralph ravenspur. "they managed to elude you?" asked the former. geoffrey pointed to the ugly bruise on the side of his head. "yes," he said, "they both got away. but for this bit of an accident fighting in the dark i might have captured the dusky conspirator." "rather you had not, on the whole," ralph said. "something gave them the alarm as they reached the passages. of course their idea was to murder some or all of us in our beds, and our idea was to take them in the act. but they got the alarm and vanished. one of the fellows attacked me in the shrubbery just before dark, but i fancy he will not do it again." "i saw him," said geoffrey. "he came to mrs. may's for assistance. she pretended that i was mistaken, but she had to give in at last when circumstances became too strong for her. how did you manage to deal him that blow on the head, uncle?" ralph smiled grimly. "i have my own means of protection," he said. "what became of the fellow?" geoffrey explained all that had happened during and after the dinner at jessop's farm. his two listeners followed his statement with flattering interest. yet all the time geoffrey was listening intently for signs of marion. was she still in the vaults or had she managed to slip away to her bedroom? the thought of the delicate girl down there in the darkness and cold was by no means pleasant. "we have managed to make a mess of it to-night," said ralph. "how those people contrived to discover that there was danger afoot i can't understand. but one thing is certain, they will not be content to leave things as they are. they may try the same thing again or their efforts may take a new and more ingenious direction." "which direction we shall discover," said tchigorsky. "can you let me out here, or shall i go by the same means that i entered?" to geoffrey's relief ralph volunteered to open the hall door for his friend. "come this way," he said. "all the bolts and bars have been oiled and will make no noise." they slipped away quietly together. geoffrey listened intently. he fancied that he could hear footsteps creeping up the stairs, and in the corridor a door softly closed. then ralph ravenspur came back again. "tchigorsky has gone," he said. "after this it will be necessary for us to vary our plan of campaign a little. you have learned something to-night. you know now that our antagonists are two indians and a woman who is dangerous as she is lovely and fascinating. ah, what a woman she is!" "who is she?" geoffrey asked. "ah, that i cannot tell you. you must be content to wait. i do not want you to know too much, and then there is no chance of your being taken off your guard. when the surprise comes it will be a dramatic one. the more you see of that woman and the more you cultivate her the more you will find to wonder at." "but can i cultivate her after to-night?" "why not? she does not know the extent of your knowledge; she has not the remotest idea that you have been helping to foil her schemes. next time she will meet you as if nothing had happened." geoffrey thought of marion and was silent. that one so pure and sweet should be mixed up with a creature like that was horrible. ralph ravenspur rose with a yawn. he seemed to have lapsed into his wooden state. he felt his way down the big flagged hall toward the staircase. "we can do nothing more," he said. "i am going to bed. good-night." the door closed and then geoffrey was free to act. he could go down into the vault and bring marion up. but first he would try to ascertain if she was in her room. he passed up the stairs and along the corridor. outside marion's door he coughed gently. the door opened and marion stood there clad in a fair white wrap, with her glorious hair hanging free over her shoulders. her eyes were full of tears. "geoff," she whispered. "geoff, dear geoff." she fell into his arms, and pressed her lips long and clingingly to his. her hole frame was quivering with mingled love and emotion. then she snatched herself away from his embrace and, with the single whispered word, "to-morrow," closed the door behind her. chapter xxiii marion explains a brilliant sunshine poured into the terrace room where the ravenspurs usually breakfasted. an innovation in the way of french windows led on to a tessellated pavement bordered with flowers on either side and ending in the terrace overlooking the sea. a fresh breeze came from the ocean; the thunder of the surf was subdued to a drone. in the flowers a number of bees were busy, bees whose hives were placed against the side of the house. they were vera's bees and there were two hives of them. vera attended to them herself; they knew her and she was wont to declare that in no circumstances would they do her any harm. that was why, as geoffrey dryly put it, she never got stung more than once a week. "i believe one has been arguing with you now," geoffrey laughed. he was standing in the window as he spoke. he and vera were the first two down. the girl was on the pavement gravely contemplating the palm of her right hand. "no, indeed," she said. "and, anyway, it was my own fault." "irish," geoffrey cried. "that makes the second since monday. let me see." he took the little pink palm in his own brown hands. "i can't see the spot," he said. "does it hurt much?" "a mere pin prick, dear. i suppose you can get innoculated against that sort of thing. i mean that you can be stung and stung until it has no effect at all." "even by bees that know you and never do you any harm," geoffrey laughed. "but i dare say you are right. five years ago when we had that plague of wasps stenmore, the keeper, and myself destroyed over a hundred wasps' nests in one season. i must have been stung nearly a thousand times. after the first score i never noticed it; was not so bad as the touch of a nettle." "what! has vera been arguing with the bees again?" the question came fresh and clear from behind the hives. marion stood there, making a fair picture indeed in her white cotton dress. there was no shade of trouble in her eyes. she met geoffrey's glance squarely. her hand rested on his shoulder with a palpably tender squeeze. it was the only kind of allusion she made to last night's doings. she might not have had a single care or sorrow in the world. she seemed to take almost a childlike interest in the bees, the simple interest of one who has yet to be awakened to the knowledge of a conscience. geoffrey had never admired marion more than he did at this moment. "marion is afraid of my bees," vera said. marion drew away shuddering from one of the velvety brown insects. "i admit it," she said. "they get on one's clothes and sting for pure mischief. and i am a sight after a bee has been operating upon me. if i had my own way, there would be a fire here some day and then there would be no more bees." they trooped into breakfast, disputing the point cheerfully. it was impossible to be downcast on so perfect a morning. even the elders had discarded their gloom. ralph ravenspur mildly astonished everybody by relating an eastern experience _apropos_ of bees. "but they were not like these," he concluded. "they were big black bees and their honey is poisonous. it is gathered from noxious swamp flowers and, of course, is only intended for their own food. even those bees----" the speaker paused, as if conscious that he was talking too much. he proceeded with his breakfast slowly. "go on," said marion. "i am interested." "i was going to say," ralph remarked in his croaking voice, "that even those bees know how to protect themselves." it was a lame conclusion and marion said so. geoffrey glanced at his uncle. as plainly as possible he read on the latter's face a desire to change the conversation. it was sufficiently easy to turn the talk into another channel, and during the rest of the meal not another word came from ralph ravenspur. once more he was watching, watching for something with his sightless eyes. and geoffrey was watching marion most of the time. she was gentle and gay and sweet as ever, as if strong emotions and herself had always been strangers. it seemed hard to recall the stirring events of the night before and believe that this was the same girl. how wonderfully she bore up for the sake of others; how bravely she crushed her almost overwhelming sorrow. she stood chatting on the pavement after breakfast. she was prattling gayly to geoffrey, as the other gradually vanished on some mission or another. then her face suddenly changed; her grasp on geoffrey's arm was almost convulsive. "now then," she whispered. "let us get it over." geoffrey strolled by her side along the terrace. they came at length to a spot where they could not be seen from the house. marion turned almost defiantly. "now i am going to speak," she whispered. "not if it gives you any pain," said geoffrey. "my dear geoffrey, you don't want to hear my explanation!" "not if it causes you the least pain or annoyance. i couldn't do it." marion laughed. but there was little of the music of mirth in her voice. "never be it said again that man is a curious creature," she said. "you find me down in the vaults of the castle at midnight mixed up with murderers and worse; you compel me to disclose my identity and take me prisoner; you force me to plead for mercy and silence. and now you calmly say you don't want to know anything about it! geoffrey, are you indifferent to myself and my future that you speak like this?" geoffrey laid his hand on the speaker's arm tenderly. "marion," he said, "it is because i think so highly of you and trust you so implicitly that i am going to ask no questions. can you be any the worse because you are bound by some tie to that woman yonder? certainly not. rest assured that your secret is safe in my hands." "but i must tell you certain things, geoff. there is some one who comes to the castle, a friend of uncle ralph's, who is an enemy of this--of mrs. may's. i don't know whether you know the man--his name is tchigorsky?" no muscle of geoffrey's face moved. "i fancy i have heard the name," he said. "when does he come here?" "i--i don't know. secretly and at night, i expect. oh, if i could only tell you everything! but i cannot, i dare not. if this mr. tchigorsky would only go away! i fear that his presence here will eventually endanger uncle ralph's life. you may, perhaps, give him a hint to that effect. between mrs. may and tchigorsky there is a blood feud. it has been imported from tibet. i can't say any more." "and you interfered to save the life of others?" "yes, yes. some day you may know everything, but not yet. i am endangering my own safety, but i cannot sit down and see crime committed under my very eyes. it is all a question of an ancient secret society and a secret religion as old as the world. tchigorsky has certain knowledge he has no right to possess. don't press me, geoff." "my dear girl, i am not pressing you at all." "no, no. you are very good, dear old boy. only get tchigorsky out of the way. it will be better for us all if you do." geoffrey murmured something to the effect that he would do his best. at the same time, he was profoundly mystified. all he could grasp was that marion was bound up with mrs. may in ties of blood, the blood of ancient tibet. "i'll do my best," he said, "though i fear that my best will be bad. tell me, do you ever see this mrs. may by any chance?" "oh! no, no! i couldn't do that. no, i can't see her." geoffrey began to talk about something else. when at length he and marion parted she was sweet and smiling again, as if she hadn't a single trouble in the world. for a long time geoffrey lounged over the balcony with a cigarette, trying to get to the bottom of the business. the more he thought over it, the more it puzzled him. and how could he broach the matter of tchigorsky without betraying marion? ralph ravenspur was in his room smoking and gazing into space. as geoffrey entered he motioned him into a chair. he seemed to be expected. "well?" ralph said. "you have something to say to me. you look surprised, but i know more than you imagine. so tchigorsky is in danger, eh? well, he has been in danger ever since he and i took this black business on. we are all in danger for that matter. marion does not know what to do." "uncle, you know there is some tie between marion and mrs. may." "certainly i do. it is the crux of the situation. and marion is to be our _dea ex machina_, the innocent goddess in the car to solve the mystery. but i am not going to tell you what that relationship is." "marion hates and loathes the woman, and fears her." "fears her! that is a mild way of putting it. never mind how, i know what marion was talking to you about on the terrace. suffice it that i do know. so last night's danger was not ours, but tchigorsky's." "so marion said, uncle." "well, she was right. tell her that tchigorsky is profoundly impressed and that he is going away; in fact, has gone away. tchigorsky is never going to be seen at ravenspur castle any more. are you, tchigorsky?" at the question the inner door opened and a figure stepped out. it was one of the natives that geoffrey had seen in the hollow of the cliffs that eventful day. he could have sworn to the man anywhere--his stealthy glance, his shifty eye, his base humility. "tchigorsky has disappeared?" ralph demanded. the man bowed low, then he raised his head and, to geoffrey's vast surprise, gravely and solemnly winked at him. "never mind," he said. "how's this for a disguise, master geoffrey?" it was tchigorsky himself. chapter xxiv marion's double geoffrey was lying _perdu_ among the gorse on the cliff uplands. he had a field glass and a rook rifle by his side, for he was waiting for a rabbit. also he had stolen out here to think over the many matters that puzzled him. he was slightly disturbed and, on the whole, not altogether well pleased. why had his uncle and the mysterious tchigorsky taken him so far into their confidence and then failed him at the critical moment? he was prepared to take his share of the danger; indeed he had already done so and had proved his steel. and was not marion equally mysterious? true, he might have got more out of her, but had refrained from motives of delicacy. perhaps, after all, his elders knew best. a word slipped, a suspicious glance, might spoil everything. then geoffrey looked up suddenly. some two hundred yards away he saw a rabbit lopping along in his direction. at the same instant two figures came along the cliff. they were ladies and the sight of them astonished geoffrey, for it was not usual to see anything more modern than a shepherd or a dog at this wild spot. the figures paused. they were picked out clear against the sky line as geoffrey lay there. he recognized one of them. surely the tall lady, with the easy, swinging carriage and supple grace, could be none other than mrs. may. geoffrey arranged his glasses. they were powerful binoculars, and through them he could see mrs. may's features quite plainly. he looked through them again long and earnestly. and her companion was marion! just for an instant geoffrey doubted the evidence of his senses. he wiped the glasses with his handkerchief and looked through them long and earnestly. no doubt could any longer be entertained. it was marion--marion who had declared that she had never spoken to the woman--marion, who hated the sight of her. and here she was, walking along with mrs. may as if they were something more than friends. yes, it was marion beyond a doubt. she had discarded her white dress for one of blue; her sailor hat was replaced by a red tam-o'-shanter. all the same, it was not possible to mistake the graceful figure. even without the glasses geoffrey would have been prepared to swear to her. he lay low under the bushes. the two were coming in his direction. geoffrey did not want to listen, but something forced him there, some power he could not resist. nearer and nearer they came, until geoffrey could hear mrs. may's voice. "that is impossible, my dear zazel," she said. "but you are safe." "i am not so sure of that," was the reply. "and i'm only a pawn in the game." it was marion's voice; the same, yet not the same. it was a hoarse, strained voice, like the voice of a man who smokes to excess. certainly geoffrey was not prepared to swear to those as the tones of marion. "absurd, zazel. of course you know that we are all in it together. and look at the glorious reward when our task is over. we must succeed ultimately, there is no doubt about that in spite of tchigorsky. it is only a question of time. am i to believe that you are not going to be true to your oath?" "i shall not forget my oath. can the leopard change his spots? but i am getting so tired of it all. i should like to end it at one swoop. if you can do that----" "i have just shown you how it is possible." "there is sense in that suggestion. and it is so artistic. it would be quoted in the scientific papers and various ingenious theories would be put forth. but some might escape." "one, or two perhaps at the outside. let them. nobody could suspect us over that. and i have the bees safely in my possession." geoffrey heard no more. the figures passed by him and then repassed in the direction whence they came. no sooner were they out of sight than geoffrey rose to his feet. he felt that he must ascertain at once whether that girl was marion or not. the face was hers, the figure hers, but that voice--never! he would find out, he would know, he would---- then he paused. he came over the knoll of the irregular cliff and there strolling towards him in her white dress and straw hat was marion. she was gathering gorse and did not see him until he was close upon her. the pause gave geoffrey time to recover from his absolute amazement. so that creature had not been marion after all. a deep sigh of thankfulness rose to his lips. the sense of relief was almost painful. by the time that marion became conscious of his presence he had recovered his presence of mind. marion plainly could know nothing about her double and he was not going to tell her. "i heard you were here, geoff," she said. "jessop told me so just now. are you going home?" geoffrey nodded; he had no words for the present. "it is so lovely," marion went on. "i am quite proud of my courage in coming alone. do you see anything else here?" "nothing but rabbits," geoffrey replied, "and few of them to-day. you are the only human being i have seen since i started." then they walked home chattering gayly together. geoffrey felt his suspicions falling away from him one by one; indeed he was feeling somewhat ashamed of himself. to doubt marion on any ground was ridiculous; to doubt the evidence of his own senses was more absurd still. thank god he had met marion. all the same there were things to tell ralph ravenspur. he, at any rate, must know all that had been heard that morning. ralph was seated in his room with his everlasting pipe in his mouth, much as if he had not moved since breakfast. "i have news for you, uncle," geoffrey said as he entered the room. "of course you have, my boy. i knew that directly i heard your step on the stair. i hope you have stumbled on something of importance." "well, that is for you to say. i saw mrs. may. she came quite close to me on the cliffs. she had a companion. when i looked through my glasses i saw it was marion." ralph did not start. he merely smiled. "not our marion," he said. "not our dear little girl." "of course not. singular that you should have our love of and faith in marion when you have never seen her. i had my glasses and i could have sworn it was marion. then they came close enough for me to hear them speak, and i knew that i was mistaken. it was not marion's voice. besides, i met the real marion a few minutes later dressed in her white dress and hat." "so that is settled. what did the other girl wear?" "a loose blue dress. a serge, i should say." "and her hat?" "a scottish thing--what they call a tam-o'-shanter." "so that acquits our marion. she couldn't be in two places at once; she couldn't even wear two dresses at the same time. and our marion's voice is the music of the sphere--the sweetest in the whole world. but the face was the same." "the likeness was paralyzing. what do you make of it, uncle?" ralph smiled dryly. "i make a good deal of it," he replied. "let us not jump to conclusions, however. did you hear anything they were saying?" "of course i did. mrs. may was urging her companion to do something. she was pointing out how rich the reward would be. it was something, i fancy, that had a deal to do with us." "i shouldn't be surprised," ralph said grimly. "go on." "something artistic that would be commented on in the scientific papers, a thing that would not lead to suspicion." "yes, yes. did you manage to get a clue to what it was?" "i'm afraid not. mrs. may made one remark that was an enigma to me. she said that she had the bees safely in her possession." a queer sound came from ralph's lips; his face glared with a strange light. "you have done well," he said. "oh, you have done well indeed." and for the time not another word would he utter. chapter xxv geoffrey is puzzled it was a long time before ralph ravenspur spoke again. he remained so quiet that geoffrey began to imagine that his existence had been forgotten. he ventured to lay a hand on his uncle's knee. the latter started like one who sleeps uneasily under the weight of a haunting fear. "oh, of course," he said. "i had forgotten you; i had forgotten everything. and yet you brought me news of the greatest importance." "indeed, uncle. what was it?" "that you shall know speedily. the danger had not occurred to me for the moment. and yet all the time it has been under my nose." "still, you might easily be forgiven for not seeing----" "seeing has nothing to do with it. and there is nothing the matter with my hearing. the danger has been humming in my ears for days and i never heard it. now it is roaring like niagara. but, please god, we shall avert the danger." "you might take me into your confidence, in this matter, uncle." "that i shall before a day has passed, but not for the moment. we are face to face now with the most dangerous crisis that has yet occurred. the enemy can strike us down one by one, and nobody shall dream that there is anything beyond a series of painfully sudden deaths. failure of the heart's action the doctors would call it. that is all." at that moment tchigorsky returned to the room. no longer was he in the disguise of an indian. perhaps he had donned it to surprise geoffrey; perhaps he was just discarding the disguise after putting it to some practical use. to him ralph repeated all that geoffrey had said. he followed with the most rapt and most careful attention. "danger, indeed," he said gravely, "the danger that moves unseen on the air, and strikes from out of nothingness. i prophesied something like this, ralph." "ay, my friend," ralph replied, "you did. but not quite the same way." "because i did not know that fortune had placed the medium so close at hand. where are the bees?" geoffrey was listening intently. up to now he had failed to understand why his story had moved ralph so profoundly. and what could the bees have to do with it? yet mrs. may had mentioned bees. "they are in two hives outside the morning-room window," said ralph. "the bees are vera's pets, and they thrive for the most part along the flower borders of the terrace. they are ordinary bees." "in the ordinary bar-frame hives of course?" "oh, yes, they are quite up to date. you can see the insects working and all that kind of thing. the hives can be moved." "i suppose they are a nuisance occasionally?" tchigorsky asked. "yes," geoffrey smiled. "we have all been stung now and again." tchigorsky appeared to be satisfied on that head. he smoked a whole cigarette while he revolved a plan in his mind. "it is necessary to get the whole family out of the way for a time," he said slowly. "it will be necessary to do so without delay. unless i am greatly mistaken, the mischief has already been done. ralph, can you induce your father and the whole family to go away for a time--say till after dark?" "perhaps," ralph replied. "but not without explaining, and it is impossible to do that. but geoffrey might manage it. unless he does manage it one or more of us will pay the penalty before daybreak." "i will do anything you desire," geoffrey cried eagerly. "then go to your grandfather and get him to arrange a picnic over to alton keep. it is a perfect day, and it will be possible to remain out till dark, returning to a late supper. i know the suggestion sounds absurd--childish in the circumstances--but it will have to be done. say that there is a great danger in the castle which has to be removed. say that nobody is to know anything about it. go." geoffrey went at once. he found the head of the family in the library trying to interest himself in a book. he looked up as geoffrey entered, and a slight smile came over his worn face. there were two people in the house who could do anything with him--geoffrey and vera. "you look as if you wanted something," he said. "i do," geoffrey replied. "i want you to do me a great favor." "it is granted--granted on the principle that we make the last hours of the condemned criminal as comfortable as possible." "then i want you to get up a picnic to-day." rupert ravenspur dropped his glasses on the table. he wondered if this was some new kind of danger, a mysterious form of insanity, brought about by the common enemy. "i am perfectly serious," geoffrey said, with a smile. "not that it is any laughing matter. dear grandfather, there is a great danger in the house. i don't know what it is, but uncle ralph knows, and he has never been wrong yet. it was he who found out all about those dreadful flowers. and he wants the house cleared till dark. unless we do so, the morning will assuredly see the end of one or more of us." "is it a painless death?" the old man asked grimly. "if it is, i prefer to remain here." "but there is always hope," geoffrey pleaded. "and you always thinks of us. won't you do this thing? won't you say that it is a sudden whim of yours? mind, everybody is to go, everybody but uncle ralph. i shall ride and when i have ridden some distance i shall pretend to have forgotten something. perhaps you deem me unduly foolish. but i implore you to do this thing." rupert ravenspur hesitated no longer. he always found it hard to resist that young smiling handsome face. not that he was blind to the folly of the proceedings. on his own initiative he would as soon have danced a hornpipe in the hall. "i will go and see about it at once," he said. he had put off his somber air, and assumed a kind of ill-fitting gayety. gordon ravenspur and his wife received the suggestion with becoming resignation. to them it was the first signs of a mind breaking down under an intolerable strain. vera and marion professed themselves to be delighted. "it sounds odd," said the latter. "fancy the doomed and fated ravenspurs going on a picnic! and fancy the suggestion, too, coming from grandfather!" vera looked anxious. "you don't imagine," she said, "that his mind----" "oh, his mind is all right. you can see that from his face. but i expect that the strain is telling on him, and that he wants to get out of himself for a time. personally, i regard the idea as charming." the preparations were made, no great matter in so large and well-regulated an establishment as ravenspur castle. if the servants were astonished, they said nothing. the stolid coachman sat solemnly on the box of the wagonette; the demure footman touched his hat as he put up the step with the air of a man who is accustomed to do this sort of thing every day. geoffrey stood under the big portico and waved his hand. "you should drive with us," marion cried. "and you won't be long?" vera asked. "oh, i am duly impressed with the importance of the occasion," geoffrey laughed. "my horse will get there almost as soon as you arrive. call the spaniel." tut, the pet spaniel, was called, but no response was made, and finally the party drove off without him. geoffrey watched the wagonette with a strange sense of unreality upon him. he felt that he could have scoffed at a situation like this in the pages of a novel. and yet it is the truth that is always so improbable. our most solemn and most trivial thoughts always run along the grooves of the mind together, and as geoffrey passed round the house he caught himself wondering where the dog was. he whistled again and again. it was a most unusual thing for tut to be far from the family. outside the morning room window the dog lay as if fast asleep. "get up, your lazy beast," geoffrey cried; "after them, sir." but the dog did not move; he made no sign as geoffrey cuffed him with the side of his foot. the dog was dead. he lay still and placid; there was no sign of pain. there was nothing about the carcass to suggest poison. close by the bees were busy among the flowers. in the hives there seemed to be more noise than usual. geoffrey opened the windows of the morning-room, leaving the casement flung back behind him. a long claw was put forth to shut it. "the window must be kept closed," ralph ravenspur said quietly. "in fact, i have given orders that every window in the house is to be closed. why, you will see presently. did you notice anything as you came along?" "i was too excited," geoffrey replied. "i have just found poor tut outside. the dog has died suddenly. half an hour ago he was perfectly well, young, full of life and vigor. and now he is dead." "lies just outside the window, doesn't he?" ralph asked. he seemed to speak callously. a man who had passed through his experiences and emotions was not likely to feel for the loss of a dog. and yet there was intense curiosity in his tone. "just outside; close to the hives." "ah, yes. he was poisoned, you think?" "i expect so. and yet where could he get the poison? nobody comes here. perhaps it was not poison after all." a thin smile flickered on ralph's face. "yes, it was," he said; "the dog was poisoned by a bee sting." chapter xxvi geoffrey begins to understand geoffrey had no words for a time. slowly the hideousness of the plot was beginning to beat in upon him. mrs. may had mentioned bees to her mysterious companion, who had so remarkable a likeness to marion, and by a strange chance ralph ravenspur had the same morning, at breakfast, mentioned a certain asiatic bee, whose poison and whose honey were fatal to human life. "ah," said geoffrey slowly, "the bees mrs. may mentioned." "precisely, my boy. and the bees that i mentioned also. tchigorsky found the dog but a minute or two ago. he slipped downstairs with me the minute we heard the wagonette drive away. he was very anxious to see the hives. directly he caught sight of tut lying there he knew what had happened. he has gone to my room for something. when he comes back he will have something to show you." tchigorsky entered the room a moment later. he had in his hand a small cardboard box with a glass lid. inside something was buzzing angrily. it was an insect, the wings of which moved so rapidly that they seemed to scream, as a house fly does when the falces of a spider close upon him. "have a good look at it," tchigorsky said curtly. "is it dangerous?" geoffrey asked. "one of the most deadly of winged insects," the russian said. "it is a black bee from the forests near lassa. there is a larger variety, whose sting produces the most horrible sufferings and death. this sort injects a poison which stops the action of the heart like prussic acid, but without the rigidity caused by that poison. the lassa black bee invades other bees' nests and preys on their honey. they frighten the other bees, which make no attempt to drive them out, but go on working as usual. then gradually the whole hive gets impregnated with that poison, and an ordinary brown bee becomes as dangerous as a black one. this is the bee that killed your dog." "then the hives are already impregnated," geoffrey cried. "precisely. half a dozen of these black bees have been introduced into the hives. now, do you begin to understand the malignity of the plot? your dog was not dead when, with my net, i caught this fellow--i expected to catch him." "and ran great risk in doing so." "of course. it was a recreation compared with some of the risks i have run." "you are right there," ralph said in his deep, croaking tones. "look at the thing, geoffrey." with a shudder geoffrey took the box in his hand. there was nothing formidable about the insect under the glass lid. it had more anger and fury, more "devil" than the ordinary bee, but it was very little larger, of a deep, lustrous black, with orange eyes and purple gauzy wings. there was nothing weird about it. "was it imported for the purpose?" geoffrey asked. "undoubtedly," ralph replied. "imported by the woman who calls herself mrs. may. before she came over to england she must have had this house described to her with the greatest minuteness. otherwise she could not have so many instruments ready to her hand; she would never have thought of these bees, for instance. "if this scheme had not been discovered everybody in the house would have been stung before long, and every one assuredly would have died. those black bees are exceedingly fierce, and do not hesitate to attack everybody and everything. their sting is so sharp and so minute that it leaves no mark and no pain. half an hour passes, and then the victim falls down and dies." geoffrey regarded the specimen with new interest. he eyed it up and down as if examining a cobra through the glass sides of its prison house. tchigorsky took the box and flattened the lid down until the insect within was no more than a red smash on the glass. a little later and the thing was pitched over the cliffs into the sea. "it is a dreadful business," geoffrey said. "and, indeed, it seems almost hopeless to try to combat foes so ruthless, so resourceful, and so daring as ours. no sooner are we out of one horror than we are into another." "while life lasts there is always hope," said tchigorsky. "that's true," said geoffrey, more cheerfully. "at any rate we can avert the danger now. but how are we going to get rid of those things?" "we are going to catch them," said tchigorsky grimly. "we shall have to destroy all the other bees, i am afraid, and we shall be compelled to let miss vera draw her own conclusions as to the cause of the mischief." "and the honey, mr. tchigorsky?" "oh, the honey will be all right. that hasn't been stung, you know. i have tasted honey from a nest which the black bees have invaded, and have been none the worse for it. we had better surmise that for some inscrutable reason the bees have deserted their quarters. and we shall propose to know nothing at all about the matter. i flatter myself we shall puzzle the enemy as completely as our friends." the matter was discussed in all its bearings until the light began to fail and the glow faded gradually from out of the sky. then, after locking the inner door of the morning room, ralph produced two large gauze frames, some matches, and powdered sulphur. this, with a small bellows, completed the stock in trade. tchigorsky immediately set about his task in a workmanlike manner. the bees were all in the two hives by this time. over the hole in front of each a square of muslin was fastened, a pile of sulphur in front was lighted, and the fumes were gently wafted into the hole with the aid of the pair of miniature bellows. there was an angry murmur from within, the murmur of droning insects, then the quick scream of churning wings. the little strip of muslin was strained by alarmed and infuriated bees striving to escape. but not for long. gradually the noise died down, and tchigorsky signed to geoffrey to help him carry the hive into the house. there it was deposited on a table and the top lifted off. instantly the gauze frame was placed over it, and with a brush tchigorsky swept out the stagnant insects into a glass-topped box provided for the purpose. on the whole, there was not much danger, but it was just as well to be on the safe side. "not one left," said tchigorsky, after he had made a careful investigation. "but it's quite as well to be certain. i've put those insects into the box, but i don't fancy that any of them will revive. now for the other one." the other hive was treated in similar fashion. there was no hitch and finally the frame was replaced as if nothing had happened, with the exception that the tiny occupants were no more. in the glass boxes, among the piles of dead bees, geoffrey could see here and there the form of a black insect. from his coat pocket tchigorsky produced some long, thin strips of lead, which he proceeded to wind round the boxes containing the bees. "there," he exclaimed, "that job is done at last, and a nasty one it has been. to prevent any further mischief i'll just step across the terrace and throw these over into the sea. he moved off into the darkness, and as he did so there came the sound of a fresh young voice that startled geoffrey and ralph as if they had been criminals caught red-handed in some crime. "geoffrey, geoffrey, where are you?" the voice cried. ralph stepped across and closed the window as vera entered. it was quite dark outside, and ralph hoped that tchigorsky would see without being seen. vera flashed a look of gentle reproach at her lover. "how can you look me in the face after the way in which you have treated me?" she asked. "this is the first day's pleasure we have had for years, and you----" "did not care to leave uncle ralph," geoffrey said. "he seemed so lonely that i felt i could not let him remain like this." "geoffrey is a good fellow," ralph muttered. vera bent and kissed geoffrey fondly. she smiled without any show of anger. "i forgive him," she said. "still, i did miss him. where are you going, dear?" "across the terrace," geoffrey replied. "i'll be in to supper directly. it's all ready, and there is marion calling you. i'm coming." tchigorsky had crept to the window. he caught geoffrey's eye and waved to him vigorously. it was a sign that he wanted assistance at once. chapter xxvii an unexpected guest geoffrey gave one glance at ralph before he went. the latter nodded slightly and sharply, much as if he saw the look and perfectly comprehended it. vera had disappeared at marion's call. in the dining room beyond the servants were getting supper. from the distance came the pop of a cork. outside it was dark by this time. geoffrey closed the window. he did not speak, but waited for tchigorsky to give the sign. his feet touched something that gave out a faint metallic twang. geoffrey wondered. did this mean burglars! he was certainly near to a wire which was stretched across the terrace, close to the ground. it was precisely the precaution taken by modern burglars to baffle capture in case of being disturbed during their predatory proceedings. but burglars would not come to ravenspur. a minute's reflection convinced geoffrey of that. the name and horror of the house were known all over england. everybody knew of the watch and ward kept there, and no burglar in his senses would risk what amounted to almost certain capture. no, something far different was going on. and that something had been sprung hastily, for half an hour before these wires had not been there. geoffrey waited with comfortable assurance that tchigorsky was not far off. a stealthy footstep crept toward him; a shadow crossed the gloom. "is that you, tchigorsky?" geoffrey whispered. "yes," came the reply. "there are hawks about. listen." a little way down the terrace something was moving. geoffrey could hear what sounded to him like labored breathing, followed by a stifled cry of pain. "the one hawk is wounded and the other has sheered off," said tchigorsky. "it sounds like a woman," said geoffrey. "it is a woman, my dear boy. and such a woman! beautiful as the angels, fair as a summer's night. clever! no words can paint her talents. and she is in the toils. she cries, but nobody heeds." again came the cry of pain. there was a flash and a spurt of flame as tchigorsky struck a match and proceeded to light a lantern. he picked his way over the entanglement of wires; geoffrey followed him. "who laid this labyrinth?" geoffrey asked. "oh, a good and true assistant of ours, an old servant of your uncle's. we have more than one assistant, and elphick is invaluable. we laid the trap for the bird, and she has broken her wing in it. pity she had not broken her neck." geoffrey did not echo the last ferocious sentiment. he was aflame with curiosity. a little farther off in the dim path shown by the lantern's flare something dark lay huddled on the ground. there was a flash of white here and there, the shimmer and rustle of silken garments. it might have been geoffrey's fancy, but he seemed to hear a hurried whisper of voices, and saw something rise from the ground and hurry away. but the black and white heap remained. tchigorsky flashed his lantern upon it. geoffrey could just see that there was a strange malignant grin upon his face. "a lady," he cried in affected astonishment. "ravenspur, here is a lady! madame permit me to tender you our assistance. you are in pain." a white, defiant face looked up--a beautiful face disfigured for the moment by evil passions. there was murder in the eyes. the woman seemed to have no consciousness of any one but tchigorsky. "it is you," she hissed. "_toujours_ tchigorsky." "yes, it is i. but i have unfortunately forgotten your name. strange that one should do so in the case of one so lovely and distinguished. you are----" "mrs. may. mrs. mona may." she had caught sight of geoffrey now and a smile came, forced to her lips. "mrs. mona may," said tchigorsky. he spoke in the same slightly mocking strain. "mrs. mona may. how stupid of me to forget. and yet in my muddled brain the name was so different." geoffrey bent over the woman anxiously. "you are in pain," he said. "may i assist you?" "indeed, it is very kind of you, mr. ravenspur," mrs. may replied. "i tripped over something. i have hurt my ankle." "barbed wire," said tchigorsky. "laid down to trap--er--burglars." "but on no other occasion----" mrs. may paused and bit her lips. tchigorsky smiled. he understood what she was going to say. on no other occasion when she had been here had she encountered a similar obstacle. geoffrey was frankly puzzled. "how did you get here?" he asked. "when the gates are closed----" "but they were not closed an hour ago when i slipped into the yard," was the reply. "i am ashamed to say that i allowed sheer vulgar curiosity to get the better of me, and now i am properly punished for my error of taste." "nothing but curiosity," tchigorsky murmured. "my dear ravenspur, you may dismiss any unworthy suspicions from your mind. the glamor of your name and the fatal romance that clings to your race have proved too much for the most charming and most tender-hearted of her sex." "i have no suspicions at all," said geoffrey. "of course not," tchigorsky spoke in the same mocking way. the light yet keen sarcasm was lost on geoffrey, but the other listener understood. "mrs. may would not injure a living creature--not a fly or a bee." the white face flashed again. by this time the woman was on her feet. one foot she found it almost impossible to put to the ground. "get a conveyance and take me home," she moaned. "perish the thought," tchigorsky cried. "would the ravenspurs outrage the sacred name of hospitality like that? circumstances compel the life of the cloister and the recluse, but there are limits. suspicious as the family must be, i am sure they would not fear an unfortunate lady with a sprained ankle." "of course not," geoffrey observed. "i will go and prepare them." he had read that suggestion in tchigorsky's eyes. heedless of mrs. may's protests, he had vanished toward the house. tchigorsky had stooped and taken the woman in his arms as if she had been a child. "what a precious burden!" he said. "scarred and battered, old tchigorsky is a fortunate man, madam. there, you need not struggle; your little fluttering heart has no occasion to beat like that. i am not going to throw you over the cliffs." the last few words were uttered in tones of smothered ferocity. "you are a devil," the woman muttered. "ay, you are right there. never was the devil stronger in my heart than he is at this moment. never was i more tempted to pitch you over the terrace into the sea. but there is worse than that waiting for you." "what are you going to do with me?" "i am going to carry you into the house; i am going to introduce you formally to the family of ravenspur. i am doing you a kindness. think how useful the information afforded you will be later!" "you are certainly the boldest man in england." "as you are the most utterly abandoned and unscrupulous woman. i can only die once. but i am not going to die before i see you and your hellspawn all hanged." "why don't you denounce me now?" "madam, i never did care for unripe fruit. the pear is ripening on the tree, and i will pluck it when the time comes." tchigorsky pushed the window of the morning room open and laid his burden down on a couch. almost immediately rupert ravenspur, followed by mrs. gordon and geoffrey, came into the room. ralph was already there. geoffrey proceeded to explain and make the necessary introduction. "and who is this gentleman?" rupert ravenspur demanded, his eye on tchigorsky. "a friend of mine," ralph put in, "dr. tchigorsky." ravenspur bowed, not that he looked overpleased. "permit me to place my hospitality at your disposal," he said. "it is many years since we entertained at ravenspur, nor do we, in ordinary circumstances, desire them. at present i cannot do less than make you welcome. madame, i regret that your curiosity should have ended so disastrously." "i am properly punished," mrs. may groaned. "my poor foot!" in the presence of pain and suffering even ravenspur's displeasure disappeared. mrs. gordon proceeded to cut away the high french boot and bathe the small foot in warm water. almost immediately mrs. may declared the pain to have passed away. there were tears in her eyes--tears that moved some of the onlookers. "i am sure i don't deserve this," she said. "i have behaved so abominably that i really don't know what to say." "say nothing," mrs. gordon replied simply and gently, "but come in to supper. i understand that you are staying at jessop's farm. a message shall be sent them that you will not return till morning. meanwhile, if you will lean on me we will manage to reach the dining room." the procession started. in the doorway stood vera. she came forward with a speech of condolence. tchigorsky was watching the pair. there was a hard gleam in his eyes; the clenching of his hand as over the hilt of a dagger. beyond, with a face white as her dress, stood marion. she staggered against the table as she saw mrs. may. her face was full of terror. geoffrey wondered what it all meant. and was this the wildest comedy or the direst tragedy that was working out before his eyes? chapter xxviii more of the bees of the real palpitating horror of the situation only three people round the table knew the true inwardness. they were tchigorsky and ralph and mrs. may. geoffrey guessed much, and probably marion could have said a deal had she cared to. her face was smiling again, but the uneasy, haunted look never left her eyes. and all through the elaborate, daintily served meal mrs. may never glanced at the girl once. and yet, here under the ravenspur roof, partaking of the family hospitality, was the evil itself. ralph smiled to himself grimly as he wondered what his father would say if he knew the truth. once or twice as he spoke mrs. may glanced at him curiously. she was herself now; she might have been an honored guest at that table for years. "your face is oddly familiar to me," she said. "i regret i cannot say the same," ralph replied. "i am blind." "but you have not always been blind?" "no. but my misfortune dates back for a number of years. it is a matter that i do not care to discuss with anybody." but mrs. may was not to be baffled. she had an odd feeling that this man and herself had met before. the face was the same, and yet not the same. "were you ever in tibet?" she asked. "i had a brother who once went there," ralph replied. "i am accounted like him. it is possible you may have met my brother, madam." the speech was sullen, delivered with a stupid air that impressed mrs. may that she had nothing to fear from him. and yet the words had a curious effect on her. her face changed color and for the first time she glanced at marion. the girl was trembling; she was ashy grey to her lips. tchigorsky, observing, smiled. "tibet is a wonderful country," he said, "and lassa a marvelous city. i had some of my strangest experiences there. i and another man, since dead, penetrated all the secrets of the holy city. it was only by a miracle that i escaped with my life. but these i will carry to my grave." he indicated the scars on his face. vera was profoundly interested. "tell me something of your adventures there," she said. "some day, perhaps," tchigorsky replied. "for the most part they were too horrible. i could tell you all about the beasts and birds and insects. i see you have some bees outside, miss vera. did you ever see tibet bees?" "are they different to ours?" vera asked. tchigorsky glanced up. mrs. may was regarding him with more than a flattering interest. a slight smile, almost a defiance, parted her lips. marion was looking down at her plate, crumbling a piece of bread absently. "some of them," said tchigorsky. "some are black, for instance. i have a place in kent where i dabble in that kind of thing. i have a few of the bees with me." tchigorsky took a small box from his pocket and laid it on the table. vera inspected the black bees for a moment and then handed them back to tchigorsky. by accident or design he let the box fall, the lid flew open, and immediately half a dozen sable objects were buzzing in the air. a yell of terror broke from mrs. may, a yell that rang to the roof. she jumped to her feet only to sink again with the pain of the injured limb. she seemed to have lost all control of herself; she turned and addressed tchigorsky in some liquid tongue that conveyed nothing to any one except that she was denouncing the russian in a fury of passionate anger. geoffrey had risen, too, greatly alarmed. from the head of the table, ralph ravenspur coolly demanded to know what it was all about. "the man is mad," mrs. may screamed. "he is a dangerous lunatic. those are the black bees of tibet. they are the most fearsome of insects. ah!" one of the droning objects dropped on her hand, and she yelled again. she was a picture of abject and pitiable terror. "i am doomed, doomed," she moaned. "killed by a careless madman." "is there any danger?" geoffrey demanded. only the life led among so many perils caused the family to wait calmly for the next and most dramatic development. perhaps the way in which tchigorsky was behaving gave them confidence. if he was a madman, as mrs. may asserted, then the madman was wonderfully calm and placid. "you are alarming yourself unnecessarily," he said. "see here." he reached over and took the bee from mrs. may's arm. the insect had become entangled in her sleeve and was buzzing angrily. "the little creature is furious," he said. "as a matter of fact, they are always more or less furious. if there is any danger there is danger now." he held the bee lightly in his hand. then he released it. "the stings have been removed," he said. "i bred these myself, and i know how to treat them. i am sorry to have caused a disturbance." he spoke with serious, earnest, politeness, but there was a mocking light in his eyes as he turned upon mrs. may. nobody had a thought or a glance for anybody else, and the spectacle of marion lying back half fainting in her chair passed unnoticed. "then they are usually dangerous?" vera asked. "my dear young lady, they are dreadful," tchigorsky explained. "they invade other nests and eat the honey as they might have invaded your hives. by way of experiment i tried one of these on your hives to-night, and your bees seemed to recognize an enemy at once. they all deserted their hives and not one of them has returned. as some amends for what i have done i am going to send you two of the finest swarms in england." vera shuddered. "i shall never want to see a bee again," she said. once more the eyes of tchigorsky and mrs. may met. she knew well that tchigorsky was talking at her through the rest, and that in his own characteristic way he was informing her that the last plot had failed. with a queer smile on her face she proceeded to peel a peach. "you are so horribly clever," she said, "that i feel half afraid of you. but i don't suppose we shall meet again." "not unless you come to russia," said tchigorsky, "whither i start to-morrow. but i am leaving my affairs in competent hands." again was the suggestion of a threat; again mrs. may smiled. the smile was on her face long after the three most interested in the tragedy had left the dining hall and gone to the billiard room for a smoke. "are you really leaving us?" geoffrey asked. "i want mrs. may to imagine so," said tchigorsky. "in a day or two her spies will bring her information that i have left england. as a matter of fact, i have succeeded in tapping a vein of information that has baffled me for a long time. "still, i am not going away and my disguise will be the one you saw me in. if luck goes well i shall be attached to mrs. may in the character of a native servant before long. so if you see any suspicious-looking asiatic prowling about, don't put a bullet into him, for you may kill me by mistake." geoffrey smiled and promised. "that was a rare fright you gave mrs. may over the bees," he said. "how did you manage it?" tchigorsky smiled as he lighted a cigarette. "i stole them from the woman's spare supply," he said. "i have been all over her possessions to-day. i almost suffocated the horrible little things and removed their stings. of course, they won't live many hours. i did it in a spirit of mischief, intending to release them in my lady's own sitting room. i couldn't resist the temptation to try her nerves to-night." "you are getting near the truth?" geoffrey asked. "very near it. we want certain evidence to bring the whole gang into the net, and then we shall strike--if they don't murder us first. but----" the speaker paused as vera entered the room. "where is mrs. may?" geoffrey asked. "she has gone to her room," vera explained. "her foot is so painful that she has decided to accept an invitation to spend the night here." "good," tchigorsky muttered. "it could not have been better." chapter xxix mrs. may at ravenspur the woman known as mrs. mona may had lost no time in adapting herself to circumstances. that she had found her way on to the terrace for no good purpose was known to three people, although in all probability she imagined that tchigorsky alone was acquainted with her designs. he had laid a trap for her and to a certain extent he had forced her hand. but she was too brilliant and unscrupulous a woman not to be able to turn misfortune to her own advantage. and was she not here----here a guest among those who for some reason she hated from her soul? why, it matters not for the present. from mrs. may's point of view tchigorsky alone knew, and tchigorsky was going away ere long. but whether tchigorsky remained or not, mrs. mona may could defy him to prove that she was in any way connected with the misfortunes of the ravenspurs. once the man she had most reason to dread had withdrawn to the billiard room, the adventuress lost no time in ingratiating herself with her involuntary hosts. this was the woman with whom geoffrey had dined. vera regarded her curiously. she was very beautiful and fascinating. she had a manner that attracted. her conversation was bright and interesting. "you must not mind me," she said to vera. "and you must not grudge me a little of your lover's company." vera blushed divinely. "how did you guess that?" she asked. "oh, there are signs, my dear. i have had my own romance and i know. but women of my age can never really rival young girls like yourself. we lack the one great charm." "i should not have thought so," said vera. mrs. may patted the girl playfully on the cheek. "that is a very pretty compliment," she replied. "but it does not alter facts. a woman of forty may be fascinating. she has the brilliant parts. but, alas! it is only once that she can possess youth." the speaker turned away with a gentle sigh and began to discuss the art treasures in the drawing room with mrs. gordon. all the time marion had held coldly aloof from the stranger. "you are not like yourself to-night," vera murmured. marion's dark eyes were lifted. there were purple rings under those eyes and a hunted expression on the white face. it was the face of one who has seen a terror that it is impossible to forget. "am i not?" she said indifferently. "perhaps so." "don't you like that woman?" vera asked. "frankly, i don't," marion admitted. "but there are reasons. strange that you don't recognize the likeness between us. geoffrey did at once." vera started. strange, indeed, that she had not noticed it before. and, now that marion had spoken the likeness was surprising. making allowance for the disparity of years, the two faces were the same. "is there another mystery?" vera asked. marion smiled like her old self. "indeed there is," she confessed. "but it is a poor, vulgar little thing beside your family mystery. mrs. may is a connection of mine. as a matter of fact, she is closely related to my mother's family. she is not a good woman, and i hope you will see as little of her as possible." "but i suppose she came to see you?" "oh! dear no. she would never have done that. she knows perfectly well that i should strongly oppose her coming here. beyond question, her taking up her residence for the benefit of her health in this village was simply a coincidence." vera looked closely at the visitor. "mrs. may doesn't look like an invalid," she said. "she doesn't. it is her heart. any sudden excitement might be fatal to her. is it not strange that i have the seeds of the same complaint?" "you, marion? i never heard that before. and you are here!" "oh, yes, i am here. a bad place for heart troubles, you would say. but i am young and strong. i merely made the remark--perhaps it would have been better had i not said anything about it." mrs. may was talking. she protested gently against the trouble she was causing. indeed, there was no reason why she should not have gone back to her farm. still, her kind friends were so very pressing she would stay the night. but she must be up and away early in the morning. she had pressing business, tiresome law business, to see to in york. "and now i am not going to keep you up any longer," she said with a brilliant smile. "who will help me upstairs? will you, dear?" she had risen to her feet and approached marion. the girl seemed to shrink back; it looked as if she was being dragged into some painful undertaking. then the natural sweetness of her disposition conquered her dislike. "if you think i can manage it," she said. mrs. may hobbled upstairs, leaning on marion's shoulder, chatting gaily. the latter helped her into the room set apart for the involuntary guest and at a sign closed the door. all her smiles and pretty feminine blandishments vanished; her eyes were dark and hard; her manner was cold and stinging. "you fool," hissed mrs. may. "this is a nice thing you have done!" marion smiled wearily. she seemed to have suddenly fallen under the mantle of years. she dropped into a chair like somebody old and weary. "what have i done?" she asked. "fallen in love with geoffrey ravenspur." the words came like a blow. marion staggered under them. "i deny it," she said weakly. "it is false." "it is true, you idiot. you are blushing like a rose. and to-night, when that fiend tchigorsky played that fool's trick upon us you had no eyes for any one but geoffrey. frightened as i was, i could see that. your looks betrayed you. what are you going to do about it?" marion shook her head sadly. never had any one at ravenspur ever seen her look so forlorn and dejected as she did at this moment. "i don't know," she said hopelessly. "i know what i ought to do. i ought to kill you and throw myself into the sea afterwards. why should i go on leading my present life? why should i shield you? what are you? what are you to me?" "you dare ask me that question?" "oh! i dare anything in my present mood. still, i am in your power. you have only to say the word and it is done." "then why do you take every means of thwarting me?" marion rose and crossed over to the door. her eyes were shining. there was a certain restless motion of her hands. "take care," she whispered. "don't drive me too far. oh, if i could only live the last four years of my life over again!" chapter xxx a leaf from the past ralph ravenspur, with tchigorsky and geoffrey, sat smoking in the billiard room until vera came in to say good-night and drive them off to bed. as they were about to separate at the head of the stairs ralph gave them a sign to follow him. "come to my room for half an hour," he said. the others complied. tchigorsky slipped away for a while, and on his return he laid the end of a long silk thread on the white table cover. "part of a little scheme," he said. "this is one end of the silk thread. where the other end is matters nothing for the present. ralph, everybody has retired?" "everybody," ralph replied as he filled his pipe. "i fancy you said that no servants sleep in the house." "they have not done so for a long time," geoffrey explained. "not that we entertain the least suspicion of any of them. we merely made the change for safety's sake." tchigorsky nodded his approval. he arranged the silk thread neatly on the table, coiling the end round a daisy pattern worked into the damask cloth. "for mrs. may's benefit?" geoffrey asked. "precisely," tchigorsky said gravely. "i take a great interest in her." geoffrey smoked a whole cigarette before he spoke again. "by the way," he exclaimed, "who and what is mrs. may?" "the devil fairly disguised," ralph croaked. "a beautiful mephistopheles, a fascinating beelzebub, a dark-eyed fiend, a--a----" he pulled up choking with all-consuming rage. his arm was sawing the air as if feeling for the white throat of his lovely foe. "steady, there," tchigorsky muttered. "steady, ralph, my friend. shall we enlighten master geoffrey a little as to the kind of woman she is?" ralph nodded over his pipe. "if you like," he said. "only the tale shall be yours. when i come to think of it, i go out of my mind, as i did that night in the black valley. tell him, tchigorsky; tell him by all means--but not all." "ay, ay, i shall know where to leave off. i'll sit here where i can watch the table. i am interested in that silk thread. so long as it remains simply coiled up there i can go on talking. when it moves----" "you are wasting time," geoffrey suggested. "true. but to make amends i am going to interest you from the very outset. doubtless you are curious to know the meaning of those scars on my face and on the face of your uncle. lately he has managed artistically to disguise his for reasons that will appear later. there was nothing to gain by hiding mine and pretty ugly they are. "these scars were branded on us both at the same time by the priests of the great temple in the hills beyond lassa. three of us had penetrated there, but the other one knew nothing of the mysteries of buddha, for the simple reason that he was the servant of your uncle--one elphick by name. elphick is doing good work for us elsewhere, but you shall see him in time. "now, these two men, who had disguised themselves as buddhist priests and had penetrated all the mysteries of that most mysterious creed, had made a boast two years before at lahore of what they meant to do. and the words of their vaporings were carried to the ears of a woman who was a brahmin, though it appeared as if she had abandoned her religion and had married an englishman. "this englishman had been to lassa himself and, when a girl, his wife had fallen in love with him and he married her. there was a good deal of scandal about it at the time, but there are so many scandals in india that this one was quickly buried under a layer of other slanders. some said that that officer had managed to pick up some of the holiest mysteries of buddha, and that the lovely native had married him to close his lips. certainly, he would never speak of lassa and when the place was mentioned he always showed signs of agitation. "well, we went. we were not afraid. both of us knew the east, we spoke many languages, we could assume any disguise. and in a short time, as honored pilgrims from a far land, we were free of the holy temple in the hills beyond lassa. soon we were picking up all the mysteries." "are there any mysteries?" geoffrey asked. ralph gave a quick barking laugh like the snap of a pistol shot. all this time his grave, wooden smile never relaxed. "ay," tchigorsky went on, "mysteries! the things we saw and the things we learned would have driven many a strong man mad. occult sciences! what do we know of them? i tell you the greatest man who walks the earth, a whole regiment of the finest scientists in europe, would be a set of chattering monkeys alongside a buddhist priest. we have seen the dead rise from their graves and heard them speak. we came near to learn the secret of eternal life. and yet everlasting life and the unveiling of the future would not tempt me there again." tchigorsky's voice had fallen to a harsh whisper. as geoffrey glanced at ralph he saw that the latter's face was bathed in a profound perspiration. "we were thus situated for some months," tchigorsky resumed. "gradually every mystery connected with life and death was opening up before us, and the secret of universal knowledge was within our grasp. then one day there was a commotion in the city, and we found that there was to be a great feast in honor of a princess of the royal blood who had come back to lassa after a long pilgrimage. we were bidden to that feast and had places of honor near to the seat of the princess. "she came in presently, gorgeously attired in flowing robes and strings of diamonds and emeralds in her hair. she was a magnificent creature. i have seen many a native queen on her throne, but none to compare with that woman who sat flashing her lovely eyes round the table. "as i looked at her again and again i had an odd feeling that i had seen her before. i turned to speak to ralph here and beheld with distended eyes and dropped jaw that he was regarding the princess. "'what is it?' i asked. 'do you know her, too?' "ralph whispered a few words in my ear--a few pungent words that turned me cold. and what he saw was this. in the princess we had the woman from lahore--the woman who had forsaken her tribe to marry an english officer. we had heard before that she was in the habit of going away for long periods, and we knew that her husband must have possessed himself of buddhist secrets, perhaps sacred buddhist script, or that woman would never have been allowed to come and go like this. "had she married an englishman in the ordinary way and subsequently returned to lassa, she would have been torn to pieces. she had been granted absolution on purpose to wrest those secrets from the englishman who had stolen them. and we two had boasted in the hearing of this woman that we were going to learn those secrets for ourselves. "would she recognize us? that was the question. remember that we were most carefully disguised, we spoke the language without flaw, we had the same tale to tell--a tale that we had rehearsed over and over again. there was no reason why we should not pass muster. "hope began to revive. then i looked up and caught that woman's eye and she smiled. i dream of that smile sometimes at night, and wake up cold and wet and shivering from head to foot. not that i have more fear than most men, but then i had seen men put to death in tibet. the torture of the wheel would be a pleasant recreation alongside of death like that. "we were recognized. no need to tell us that. doubtless that woman had followed us step by step, giving us all the latitude we required, and now she had come to teach us the pains and penalties attaching to our office. she favored us with no further glance until the feast had concluded and what passes for music had begun, when she honored both of us with a summons to her side. "of course, we went. in the circumstances there was nothing else to do. she made room for us; she smiled dazzlingly upon us. and then slowly and deliberately, as a cat with a mouse, she began to play with us. "'i speak to you thus,' she said, 'because there are others who seek for the secrets of the faith. there were two christian dogs who came up from lahore. one was called tchigorsky, the other was called mayton' (mayton was your uncle ralph's pseudonym, geoffrey), 'and they boasted what they were going to do. they knew the language, they said. and, behold, the one called tchigorsky was very like you, holy man.' "it was coming. i bowed gravely as if the comparison was not pleasing to me. a wild yell of hysterical laughter came to my lips, but i managed to suppress that. there were no knives on the table, and i had not dared to use my revolver. had there been a knife on the table i should have stabbed that woman to the heart and taken the consequences. "but your revolver, tchigorsky," geoffrey suggested. "my dear boy, holy fathers and shining lights of the buddhist faith do not carry regulation army revolvers," tchigorsky said grimly. "all i could do was to wait." "'did you know those english at lahore?' the princess asked. "i disclaimed the knowledge, saying that at that time i was in cawnpore. then being closely questioned, i proceeded to give a detailed history of the movements of myself and my companion for the last year or so. i was lying glibly and easily, but i had no comfort from the knowledge. it was easy to see that not one word was believed, and that i was walking into the trap. "'at dargi you were,' said the princess. 'what are the five points of the temple there?' "for the life of me i could not tell her. as a matter of fact, i had never been near dargi in my life. and the question was one that any buddhist who had been there would have answered offhand. "'i have forgotten,' i answered as calmly as possible. 'i have a bad memory. i forget all kinds of things.' "those dark eyes seemed to look me all through. "'you will forget your own name next,' the princess said. "'i'll remember that,' i replied. 'i am rane el den, at your service.' "then came the reply in excellent english. 'your name is sergius tchigorsky, and your companion is ralph james mayton. i have found you out. i have only to raise my hand and your fate is sealed.' "it was all over. i said nothing. i asked no pity. pity! you might as well strive to soften the heart of the wounded tiger that has you down with a handful of nuts. then i----" tchigorsky paused. his eyes were on the table. he pointed to the silken thread that was slowly moving in the direction of the door. "hush!" he said softly. "blow out the light." chapter xxxi the silk thread intensely interested as he was in the story that tchigorsky had to tell, geoffrey nevertheless watched the slowly moving thread on the table. gradually and very slowly the silken tag began to draw away from the pattern on the tablecloth, tchigorsky following it with grim eyes. "you find it strange?" he asked geoffrey. "strange and thrilling," geoffrey replied. "it appeals to the imagination. some tragedy may be at the other end of that innocent-looking thread." "there may be; there would be if i were not here. we are dealing with a foe whose cunning and audacity know no bounds. you see i have been among the foe and know something of their dealings." a passionate anger rose up in geoffrey as he watched the gliding thread. "then why not drop upon them?" he cried. "why not produce your proofs and hand the miscreants over to the police?" "what good would that do?" tchigorsky replied. "could we prove that the foe had had a direct hand in the tragedies of the past? could we demonstrate to the satisfaction of a jury that mrs. may and her confederates were responsible for those poisoned flowers or the bees? and if we get them out of the way there are others behind them. no, no; they must be taught a lesson; they must know that we are all-powerful. and they must feel the weight of our hands. then the painful family scandal----" "you are going too far," ralph interrupted warningly. tchigorsky checked himself after a glance at geoffrey. "i am not to be told everything," he said. "why?" "because we dare not," ralph murmured. "it is not that we cannot trust you, but because we dare not." with this geoffrey was fain to be content. by this time the thread had left the table, and was lying on the floor. "the other end is tied to mrs. may's door," tchigorsky explained. "when that door was cautiously opened, of course, the thread moved. geoffrey, you stay here. ralph, will you go up by the back staircase and get up to the corridor. wait there." "is there danger?" geoffrey whispered. "not now," said tchigorsky, "but this audacity passes all bounds. that woman had planned to strike a blow at the very moment when she was enjoying the hospitality of this roof. the boldness of it would have averted all suspicion from her. one of the family mysteriously disappears and is never heard of again. in the morning not one lock or bolt or bar is disturbed. and yet the member of the family is gone. england would have been startled by the news to-morrow." "you heard all this?" geoffrey cried. "yes," tchigorsky said quietly. "that disguise i showed you was useful to me. it is going to be more useful still." "but the danger! it must be averted," geoffrey whispered. already tchigorsky was leaving the room. the lamp had been extinguished, after taking care to place a box of matches close beside it. in the darkness geoffrey waited, tingling to his finger tips with suppressed excitement. meanwhile, tchigorsky felt his way along in the darkness. he was counting his steps carefully. he reached a certain spot and then stopped. ralph strolled down the back staircase, and thence down a flagged passage into the hall, where he climbed the stairs. light and darkness, it was all the same to him. there was nobody in the house who could find his way about as well as he. then he waited for the best part of half an hour. he could hear queer sounds coming from one of the bedrooms, a half cry in light feminine tones, a smothered protest and then the suggestion of a struggle. yet ralph never moved toward it; under cover of the darkness he smiled. then he heard a door creak and open; he heard footsteps coming along in his direction. the footsteps were stealthy, yet halting; there was the suggestion of the swish of silken drapery. on and on that mysterious figure came until it walked plump into ralph's arms. there was a faint cry--a cry strangled in its birth. "mrs. may," ralph said quietly, "i am afraid i startled you." the woman was gasping for breath, iron-nerved as she was. she stammered out some halting, stumbling explanation. she was suffering from nervous headache, she was subject to that kind of thing, and there was a remedy she always carried in her jacket pocket. and the jacket was in the hall. "go back to your room," said ralph. "i will fetch it for you." "there is no occasion," the woman replied. "the shock of meeting you has cured me. but what are you doing?" "sleeping on the stairs," ralph said in his dullest, most mechanical way. "sleep--sleeping on the stairs! why?" "i frequently do it. i suffer from insomnia. the accident that deprived me of my sight injured my reason. this is one of my lucid intervals. for years i slept in the open air; the atmosphere of a bedroom stifles me. so i am here." "and here you are going to remain all night?" "yes. i presume you have no objection." mrs. may was silent. did this man know the terrible position he had placed her in? was he telling the truth, or was he spying on her? was he dangerous enough to be removed? or was he the poor creature he represented himself to be? "you should get your clever friend tchigorsky to cure you," she said. "tchigorsky has gone away. i don't know when i shall see him again." that was good news, at any rate. mrs. may stooped to artifice. there were reasons why this man should be got out of the way at present. he had brought danger by his stupid eccentricity, but the bold woman was not going to change her plans for that. "be guided by me," she said. "go to your room." "i am here till the morning," ralph said doggedly. "go to yours. we are a lost, doomed race. what does it matter what i do?" it was useless to combat sullen obstinacy like this. mrs. may uttered a few clear words in a language that not one in a million would understand--certainly not three people in england. it never occurred to her for a moment that ralph ravenspur might be one of the three, but he was. he listened grimly. no doubt the mysterious words had nothing to do with the matter, but a door in the corridor opened, and marion emerged, carrying a light in her hand. she came swiftly down the corridor, her long hair streaming behind her. as she saw ralph she gave a sigh of relief. "come quickly to vera's room," she said. "i want your help." in her intense excitement she seemed not to notice mrs. may. the latter stood aside while the other two passed along. she slipped into her own room and closed the door. "foiled," she hissed, "and by that poor meaningless idiot. is it possible that he suspected anything? but no, he is only a fool. if i had only dared, i might have 'removed' him at the same time. on the whole, it was a good thing that marion did not see me." without the least trace of excitement and without hurry, ralph followed marion. a light was burning in the room and vera, still dressed, was lying on the bed. she was fast asleep, but her face was deadly cold and her breathing was faint to nothingness. ralph's fingers rested on her pulse for a minute. "how long has she been like this?" ralph asked. "i don't know," marion replied. "i was just dropping asleep when i fancied i heard vera call out. in this house the mere suggestion sufficed. i crept quietly along and came in here. the room was empty save for vera and there was no sign of a struggle. i should have imagined it to be all fancy but for the queer look in vera's face. when i touched her i found her to be deadly cold. is--is it dangerous?" ralph shook his head. "mysterious as ever," he said. "the miscreant is by us, almost in our hands, and yet we cannot touch him. vera has been rendered insensible by a drug. the effect of it will pass away in time. she will sleep till morning, and you had better remain with her." "of course, i should not dream of leaving the poor child alone." ralph just touched marion's cheek. "you are a good girl--an angel," he murmured. "what we should do without you i cannot say. stay here and have no fear. i shall not be far away. i am going to sleep for the rest of the night on the floor outside." "on the floor, my dear uncle?" "bah! it is no hardship," said ralph. "i have had far less comfortable quarters many a time. i am used to it and like it. and i sleep like a hare. the slightest noise or motion and i am awake instantly." marion raised no further protests. this singular individual was in the habit of doing as he pleased, and nothing could turn him from his humor. he bade marion good-night and softly closed the door. but he did not lie down at the head of the stairs. on the contrary, he crept quietly down to his room again. there tchigorsky and geoffrey waited him. the lamp was once more lighted. tchigorsky had a grin on his face. "foiled her?" he asked. "i heard you." "for the present, at any rate," ralph replied. "that charming woman does me the honor to regard me as a benighted idiot." tchigorsky dropped into a chair and rocked to and fro, shaking with noiseless mirth. chapter xxxii more from the past geoffrey looked from one to the other for explanation. "won't you tell me what has happened?" he asked. "as a matter of fact, nothing has happened," ralph replied. "a little time ago tchigorsky outlined a bold stroke on the part of the foe. he suggested that it was possible, without removing a single bolt or bar, to spirit away one of the family, who would never be heard of again. tchigorsky was making no prophesy; he was speaking from knowledge. well, the attempt has been made and it has failed." "who was the victim, uncle?" "your cousin, vera. sit down, my boy; if you go plunging about like that you will ruin everything. did i not tell you that the attempt had been made and had failed? vera is safe for a long time to come." geoffrey dropped into his seat again. "how did you manage it, uncle?" he asked. ralph gave the details. he told the story dryly. "so i not only prevented the dastardly attempt to carry vera away," he concluded, "but i baffled the foe altogether. there was not the slightest suspicion that i was on the stairs except by the merest accident." "but you say that marion was with vera?" "she was. that nimble wit of hers led her to suspect danger. but marion could not have averted the tragedy. a slender girl like her could have done nothing against a strong and determined foe. if necessary, she would have been carried off and they would have killed two birds with one stone." geoffrey shuddered. he was sick of the whole business. for the moment he was a prey to utter despair. it seemed hopeless to fight against a foe like this, a foe striking in the dark and almost moving invisibly. "some one ought to watch that room," he said. "it is unnecessary. i am supposed to be sleeping close by. already the foe has learned that i slumber with one eye open. don't be cast down, geoffrey. two more of the enemy are on their way to yorkshire, and when they are here the mouth of the net is going to close. i pledge you my word that no further harm shall come to anybody. and tchigorsky will say the same." "on my head be it," tchigorsky muttered. he twisted a cigarette dexterously with his long fingers. "there is nothing to fear," he said, "nothing with ordinary vigilance. the danger will come when the time for defence has passed and it is our turn to attack. then there will be danger for the three of us here. shall we go to bed?" "i could not sleep for a king's ransom," said geoffrey. "then we will chat and smoke awhile," said tchigorsky. "if you like, i will go on with the history of our adventures in lassa." geoffrey assented eagerly. tchigorsky proceeded in a whirl of cigarette smoke. "we knew we were doomed. we could see our fate in those smiling, merciless eyes. that woman had lived among civilized people; she knew western life; she had passed in society almost for an englishwoman. "but she was native at heart; all her feelings were with her people. all the past could not save us. she meant us to die, and die with the most horrible torture under her very own eyes. her life in india was a masquerade--this was her real existence. "'you fancy you are the first,' she said. 'did you ever know a russian traveler, voski by name? he was very like you.' "i recollected the man. i had met him years before, and had discussed this very lassa trip. "'yes,' i said, for it was useless to hold up our disguises any longer. 'what of him?' "'he came here,' the princess said. 'he learned some of our secrets. then it was found out and he had to walk the black valley. he died.' "all this was news to me. so astonished was i that i blurted out the truth. only a year before, long after voski was supposed to be dead, i had met him in london. when i mentioned lassa he changed the subject and refused to continue the conversation. i fancied that he suspected me of chaffing him. now i know that he had been through the horrors of the black valley and--escaped. "the eyes of the princess blazed when she heard this. she was a wild devastating fury. it seemed almost impossible to believe that i had seen her in a tea gown at simla, chattering society platitudes in a white sahib's bungalow. and i bitterly regretted betraying myself, because i knew that, wherever he was, voski would be hunted down and killed, as they were seeking to kill me, as they would slay ralph ravenspur, only they have not recognized him." "hence the changed face and the glasses?" geoffrey asked. "you have guessed it," said ralph. "i did not want to be known. i am only a poor demented idiot, a fool who cumbers the ground." "i had betrayed voski without doing any good to myself," tchigorsky resumed. "if any harm has come to him, i am his murderer. presently the princess calmed down, and the old cruel mocking light came back to her eyes. we were speaking english by this time--a language utterly unknown to the awestruck, open-mouthed priests around us. "'let us pretend that this is my drawing room in india, and that i am entertaining you at tea,' she said. 'later you shall know something of me in my real character. i suppose you recognized the risks that you ran?' "'perfectly,' i replied. 'we are going to be done to death in barbarous fashion, because we have come here and learned your secrets as your husband did.' "i could afford this shot. i could afford to say anything. we were going to perish by a death the horror of which is beyond all words, and had i pulled the nose of the princess, had i strangled her as she sat there, the punishment could have been made no worse. "'take care,' she said, 'you are in my power. what do you mean?' "'i mean that your husband penetrated the secrets of buddha, and that you married him so as to regain those secrets. there were papers and the like, or he would merely have been assassinated in the ordinary vulgar manner, and there would have been an end of the business. your husband has got an inkling of this and that is why he has hidden the documents and refuses to give them up; he would be murdered if he did.' "'you are a bold man,' the princess said. "'not at all,' i replied. 'a man can only die once. would you say that the condemned murderer was rash for attempting to pick the pocket of the gaoler, even for attempting to murder him? what i say and what i do matters nothing. and you know that i am telling the truth.' "the princess smiled. my friend ralph here will remember that smile." "i could see then," ralph muttered, "and i do remember it." "'very well,' the princess replied, 'you are candid and i will be the same. what you have said about my husband is perfectly true. i did marry him to recover those papers. and when i accidently let out the truth that i was not outcast of my tribe he saw his danger. he is safe till those papers are mine. and then i shall kill him. "'and yet i love that man--i shall be desolate without him. but my religion and my people come first. for them i lose my caste, for them i degrade myself by becoming the wife of a white sahib, for them i shall eventually die. and yet i love my husband. ay, you cannot command the human heart.' "at this i laughed. the princess joined me. "'you think i have no heart,' she said, 'but you are mistaken. you shall see. for the present i have my duty to perform. i do it thus.' "she rose to her feet and clapped her hands and spoke in terse, vigorous sentences. a minute later we were bound and our disguises slipped from us. and there for the present you must be content to leave us. to-morrow i shall tell the rest." tchigorsky rose and yawned, but geoffrey would fain have had more. "the princess," he said; "at least tell me if i know her." "of course you do. princess zara is the woman who calls herself mrs. mona may." chapter xxxiii vera sees something it was nearing dawn when vera came to herself out of an uneasy slumber. the darkest hour that precedes the faint flush in the eastern sky was moving away. there was a light in the room. vera rubbed her eyes wondering. it was one of her fancies to have no light in her room. better to lie with horrors she could not see than have the glimmer from a nightlight filling every corner with threatening shadows. vera sat up in bed, forgetting for the moment that she had a racking headache. something had happened while she slept. something was always happening in that house of fears, so that vera was conscious of no new alarm. in a big easy chair at the foot of the bed marion reclined, fast asleep. vera checked an impulse to wake her. in that miserable household sleep was the most blessed of all luxuries. why, then, should marion be disturbed? doubtless she had come there to protect and, doubtless the girl would know all about it in the morning. "i will not wake her," vera murmured. but she could not sleep herself. the splitting, blinding headache was very much in evidence just now. vera felt that she would give anything for a glass of cold spring water. she poured out that in her own bottle, but it was flat and tepid. she would go down into the stone-flagged outer kitchen, where the pump was, and get some fresh. in any case, she had not the least idea of going to bed again. vera partly dressed herself, doing up her hair in a big shining knot, and then, in slippered feet, crept down to the kitchen. she had no need of a light--there was already enough to show the way. how cool and refreshing the water was! she drank a glass and then laved her face in the crystal fluid. all headache was gone by this time, though vera had a curious trembling of her lower limbs that she could not account for. she opened a side door leading into a green quadrangle, and from there made her way to the terrace. for a few minutes she stood in a dark angle facing the house, just picked out, as it was, from the gloom. along the dim corridor some one was advancing with a light. what could it mean? what was going on? vera crouched close into the dark corner. she had an idea that she was going to witness something. the light in the corridor stopped and grew brighter. from the black shadow of the house a human figure crept out and slid along the terrace to a spot where it was just possible for a man of strong courage and cool head to make his way down to the beach at low tide. at high water the sea swept the foot of the cliff. vera strained her eyes to make out the figure. it passed so close to her that she might have touched the hem of the white diaphanous garment about it; a faint, sour kind of perfume was in the air. these swiftly flying feet made not the slightest noise. vera guessed at once that this was one of the orientals whom she and geoffrey had seen along the cliffs on a memorable occasion. she was not far wrong. if not the same, they belonged to the same noisome band. almost before vera could recover from her surprise another figure followed. vera watched with intense eagerness. slight and frail though she was, she was not in the least afraid. she came from the wrong race for that. she had made up her mind to know what was going on even if she ran some danger in obtaining the knowledge. and what did that light mean? she was soon to know. presently another figure came along, a tall figure which in the gloom bore a strong resemblance to tchigorsky. the figure wore boots and a european dress and did not seek concealment. by its side was yet another figure also clad in european dress. "you say this is the place?" the latter man whispered in indifferent english. "yes, yes," was the reply, in still more indifferent english. "it is to this place that my master, dr. tchigorsky, bade me bring you. and there is the signal." the light in the corridor waved again. "i am not satisfied," the stranger muttered. "i am in great danger." "but not here," the other said eagerly. "nobody knows you are here. the princess has not the least idea of your presence. and dr. tchigorsky, my master, bade me hunt for you until i found you. and i have done it." "oh, yes, you have done it right enough. and dr. tchigorsky would not have sent for me unless there had been danger. but why not meet him in daylight in a proper and natural manner?" the other spat gravely on the pavement. "the doctor is a great man," he said. "he knows. would you have your enemies to guess that you have seen my master? that is why i bring you here at night. that is why there is the great secret." the tall man muttered something that sounded like an acknowledgment of the force and cogency of this reasoning. "i dare say it is all right," he said. "fetch your master." the servant salaamed and departed in the direction of the house. he returned presently with the information that tchigorsky had gone along the terrace. there was a summer house a little way off, where tchigorsky waited. vera felt her heart beating faster. there was no summer house along the terrace--nothing but a broken balustrade that rupert ravenspur was always going to have mended. over this there was a sheer drop to the sea below. as the pair moved on, vera followed. then what followed seemed to happen in the twinkling of an eye. a white-robed figure emerged and flung himself upon the stranger. at the same time the other miscreant, who had acted as tchigorsky's servant, attacked him from behind. "you rascals," the stranger cried, speaking this time in french. "so i have been deceived. you are going to throw me over the cliff. there is no escape for me. well, i don't much mind. the agony of suspense has taken all the sweetness out of life for me. i knew that sooner or later this was bound to come. but i am going to take a toll." the stranger's breath was coming rapidly between his teeth. vera tried to scream, but no sound emerged from her lips. she stood rooted to the spot, watching what seemed to her a long one-sided struggle. as a matter of fact, it had not lasted more than ten seconds. gradually the stranger was forced back. back and back they forced him to the very edge of the cliff. there was no escape for him now. he reached out two long and swinging hands; he grasped two arms, one for each of his would-be assassins, and then he jumped backwards. two fearful wailing yells rent the air; there was a mocking laugh, and silence. had she really seen this thing or had she dreamed it? vera was not sure. just for a brief moment her senses left her. when she came to herself again she crept along to the house and thence to her bedroom. she locked the door and flung herself upon the bed, pressing her hands to her eyes. "how long will it last?" she murmured. "how long can one endure this and live? oh, heaven! is there no mercy for us?" then the blessed mantle of oblivion fell again. chapter xxxiv exit tchigorsky it seemed to have been tacitly agreed by geoffrey and marion that nothing could be gained by telling vera of the danger that she had escaped. nothing could be gained by a recital of the dastardly attempt on the previous evening, and only another terror would be added to the girl's life. and, heaven knows, they all had terrors enough. on the other hand, vera had made up her mind to say nothing to the family generally as to her startling adventures. of course, geoffrey and ralph ravenspur would have to know, but the rest were to be kept in the dark. vera's white face and serious air were accounted for by the headache from which she was palpably suffering. some of the others understood, and they were full of silent sympathy. "it is nothing," said vera. "a walk along the cliffs will soon set me right." as she spoke she looked at geoffrey significantly. he knew immediately that the girl had something important to say to him. he slipped outside and vera followed him. not till they were out of sight of the house did she speak. "dr. tchigorsky is still about?" she asked. "yes, dear," geoffrey replied. "as a matter of fact, he is hiding in uncle ralph's room. he has his own reasons for so doing, but the reasons are to remain a profound secret. i ought not to have told you. you are not to tell any one." vera gave a sigh of relief. "i promise that," she said. "and i am exceedingly glad to hear that dr. tchigorsky is safe. i was not sure whether i had not seen his murder." geoffrey regarded vera in amazement. "why, you were in your room all night," he cried. "you were----" he was going to say "drugged," but he pulled himself up just in time. vera told her story without further preamble. it was a thrilling story and none the less so because simply told. "i don't profess to understand it," vera concluded. "i tell it to you just as it happened. on the whole, i thought it as well to keep the information to myself. i dare say that dr. tchigorsky can solve the problem." "he shall have a chance," said geoffrey. "i'll tell him after luncheon. but i should not tell a soul else this, vera." "i had no intention, geoffrey. and now, hadn't we better go back and say good-bye to mrs. may. she is leaving the house directly." mrs. may did leave the house in the course of the morning, all smiles and blandishments. she had a particularly tender word and squeeze of the hand for geoffrey, whom she pressed in a whisper to come and see her before long. "i will," geoffrey replied. "you may rely upon that." it was with a feeling of intense relief that he was rid of her. it seemed hard to believe that the smiling polished woman of the world, the _dernière cri_ of western civilization, should be one and the same with the fanatic princess of the fanatical east. there was something wild and bizarre about the very suggestion. there was one last smile for every one but marion, who had not appeared, and mrs. may was gone. geoffrey made his way up to his uncle's room. there he found the two friends smoking. tchigorsky looked at him from behind a cloud of thin smoke. "you have news, my young friend," said tchigorsky. "i see it in your eyes." "i have the most important news," said geoffrey, "only it does not convey any impression to me. it is a discovery of vera's. she had a fine adventure last night. she was not sure whether or not she had seen your murder, tchigorsky." "say on," tchigorsky said calmly. "say on, my boy." geoffrey said on accordingly. he fully expected to surprise his hearers, and he was not disappointed. every word he said was followed with rapt attention. "and now can you explain it?" geoffrey asked eagerly. "to me the explanation is perfectly clear," tchigorsky replied. "last night i told you that there were two other parties to the vendetta now in england, and that it was necessary to get them into the net before we close it. that is no longer necessary, for the simple reason that these two men are dead--drowned." "do you mean that they perished with that stranger last night?" "certainly, i do. a fine determined fellow, whose death i cannot sufficiently deplore. and he had his vengeance upon his foes. if he perished, they perished also." "but who was he, tchigorsky?" "the other man--my fellow-countryman, voski. don't you remember my telling you how the princess spoke of him? he has been hunted down at last. they lured him here and destroyed him under the pretence that i wanted to see him. my presumed servant had only to mention my name, and the thing was done." "but why bring him here?" "because the place is so quiet. because they wanted to give their mistress, the princess, a pleasant surprise. i don't suppose she knew they were coming." "but the light in the corridor?" "that was a curious and useless coincidence. the light in the corridor was mine. i was looking for something. neither of those miscreants was ever in the house at all. at the same time they had naturally been informed where i was. to-day they would have gone to their mistress with the pleasing news that they had despatched voski. i am certain they were saving the news for her." "what shall you do about it?" asked geoffrey. "i shall not do anything at present," tchigorsky replied. "i have a little idea that may work out to our advantage later. meanwhile nobody knows of the tragedy and nobody is to know. this afternoon you are going out fishing in a boat, but in reality you are going to look for their bodies. if you can find them all----" "we are certain to find them all," ralph interrupted. "they will be carried round gull reef on the spit of sand under the caves and deposited on the beach, whence the tide ebbs at four o'clock to-day. i have not lived here all my life for nothing. we shall find those bodies within a yard of where i say." "and bring them up the cliff," geoffrey shuddered. "ugh!" "you will do nothing of the kind," tchigorsky said coolly. "bring voski, of course, but you are to bury the two ruffians in the sand. it will be easy to do so, and pile some rocks over them afterwards." geoffrey ventured to suggest that such a course might end disastrously, the officers of the law not to know of it. tchigorsky waved the suggestion aside contemptuously. it was no time for nice points like these. "those foul creatures are dead, and there is an end of it," he said. "what can it matter whether there is an inquest held on them or not? if it is, then there will be an end of my scheme. i say you must do this. the future happiness of the family depends upon it. it is also of the utmost importance that princess zara does not know of the death of her miscreants." geoffrey nodded. he began to see daylight. and, after all, the concealment of these bodies was no crime. "what do you say, uncle ralph?" he asked. "say that tchigorsky is right," ralph croaked; "tchigorsky is always right. when we get voski's body, what shall we do with it?" "lay it out in the corridor, where i can get a look at it," said tchigorsky. "for the present i do not exist--at least, so far as this house is concerned. all you have to do is to follow my directions." the strange pair set out on their excursion in the afternoon. it was a long pull from the village to the cliffs, but it was accomplished at length. the boat was run aground at the least dangerous spot and ralph and geoffrey set out along the sands. the former's step was as free and assured as that of his younger companion. "ah," geoffrey cried, "you are right. there they are." "i knew it," ralph replied. "see if they are injured." geoffrey steeled himself to his gruesome task. the three men lay side by side as if they had been placed so by human hands. as far as geoffrey could judge, there were no signs of violence on the bodies of either of the natives. they lay by each other, their faces transfixed with rage and horror. beyond doubt, these men had been drowned, sucked down by the strong current and then cast up again by the sea as if in cruel sport. "no hurts on either," geoffrey muttered. "it is possible. look at the other one." geoffrey did so. he saw a face fixed with a grim smile, the smile of the man who can meet death and knows how to punish those who injure them. the face was seared and criss-crossed just like tchigorsky's and ralph ravenspur's; indeed, with its strange disfigurement the dead russian would have passed for tchigorsky. the face was black and swollen from an ugly bruise in the forehead. had not he known the truth, and had any one told geoffrey that tchigorsky lay there, he would have believed it. a spade had been placed in the bottom of the boat, and with it two deep graves were dug in the sand. into them the bodies of the orientals were cast; the sand was made smooth again, and a layer of heavy rocks laid on the top. the body of the russian was conveyed to the boat and thence to the house. there was nobody to see the mournful entry. all the family were on the terrace. a startled servant or two came forward and gave the necessary assistance to convey the body to the dimly lighted corridor. "go to the village and fetch the constable," said geoffrey. "we have found a dead body on the beach." the servant went off; the gallery was deserted. in a few minutes the family would be in the house again, and the story would have to be told. tchigorsky looked cautiously from his hiding place. "is the coast clear?" he asked. "perfectly clear," said geoffrey. tchigorsky came forward. for a long time he examined the body. the regret on his face was tempered by a gleam of grim satisfaction. "it is very like you," said geoffrey. "it is me," tchigorsky whispered. "you are to recognize it as me. the idea is that i fell over the cliffs in the darkness and was drowned. i will explain later. somebody comes." tchigorsky darted off as marion appeared. she looked white and agitated. "another horror," she said. "sims just told me. who is it?" "i regret to say it is dr. tchigorsky," said ralph. "he must have walked over the cliff in the darkness. see here." marion bent over the body with a shudder. "poor fellow," she said tenderly. "tchigorsky beyond a doubt." ralph turned away, as if in grief. but the grin on his face was the grin of mephistopheles. chapter xxxv mrs. may is pleased geoffrey was fain to confess that he couldn't quite follow. he turned to ralph, who once more had recovered his old expression--an expression tinged with profound regret. from the hall below came the tones of rupert ravenspur demanding to know what it was all about. "go and tell your grandfather," ralph said quietly. "everybody who comes near us is fated, it seems. poor tchigorsky is no more. he was a mysterious man, and wonderfully reticent as to his past life, but he was the most interesting man i ever met. but i shall never hear anything more about tibet." "he was a very old friend of yours?" marion asked. "not so very old," ralph replied. "and i should hardly call him a friend. we were mutually interested in certain scientific matters. but as to the marvelous side of things he told me nothing." speaking by the letter this was perfectly true. tchigorsky had told ralph nothing, for the simple reason that they had learned and suffered together. "then why did he come here?" marion demanded. "to try to solve the mystery. he declared that orientalism was at the bottom of it. but we shall never know now. tchigorsky is no more, and such knowledge as he may have possessed has gone down to the sea with him." marion turned away with a sigh. slight as their acquaintance had been, she had been drawn to tchigorsky, she said. strange that whoever tried to help the house of ravenspur should come under the ban. "but tchigorsky was drowned," said ralph. "no, indeed," marion replied. "oh, i know there are no signs of violence on the body. i know how dangerous the broken balustrade is; but i have my opinions all the same." "you are wrong in this case," ralph said, as he walked away. presently other people began to arrive. for the first time for many years ravenspur was invaded by strangers--a policeman or two, a fussily polite inspector, a journalist with a colleague, pushing everywhere. they would have interviewed rupert ravenspur, but the cold glitter of his eye awed even them. the police let ralph alone, but geoffrey was subjected to severe questioning. on the whole he came out of the ordeal better than ralph had anticipated. "you managed that very well," he said. "i feel horribly mean and guilty. all these prevarications--" "call them lies, if you like," ralph put in coolly. "it doesn't matter. think of the good cause. if ever the end may justify the means it is here. you are deceiving only our enemies; you are injuring nobody. and you are giving tchigorsky a heaven-sent opportunity." "i doubt it, uncle. clever as tchigorsky is, well as he may disguise himself, he will fail. did not princess zaza pick you both out at lassa?" "that was not quite the same thing. remember she knew beforehand that we were going to make the attempt to reach the holy city. she allowed us to go so far because she is naturally a cruel woman. moreover, all the time her spies had been dogging our footsteps. "before nightfall she will firmly believe tchigorsky to be dead, which is a great point in his favor. she does not know that her other two miscreants have met with a deserved fate. tchigorsky will go to her, passing as one of them, and will tell her a wonderful tale as to how he and his ally compassed voski's death. he will tell how that death entailed the death of his companion." "it is a fearfully dangerous position." "oh, it is. but tchigorsky will not mind that. he loves danger for its own sake. and he will be able to act the character to the life. he speaks the language perfectly; he is up to all the rites and ceremonies. tchigorsky will not fail." the inquest was appointed for the afternoon. it was not likely to last long, and the verdict in the minds of most people was a foregone conclusion. tchigorsky had walked out into the darkness, he had stumbled over the cliffs, and there was an end of the matter. meanwhile the police seemed to have taken possession of the house. and all the time tchigorsky was seated in a comfortable lounge in ralph's room, smoking cigarettes and making plans for the future. geoffrey had gone out after luncheon. he would not be wanted for a full hour and resented the vulgar curiosity of these strangers. already some of the jury had arrived, and were critically examining the broken balustrades with an owl-like wisdom which, in other circumstances, would have been amusing. geoffrey walked along up the slope toward jessop's farm. he met a small governess cart drawn by a donkey coming down the hill. in it was mrs. may driving slowly along. she pulled up as she saw geoffrey and held out her hand. her face was very clear and bright to-day. "you see, i have already adapted myself to circumstances," she said when geoffrey had asked politely and feelingly after the injured foot. "the donkey and i are old friends and jessop got the cart for me. so i am all right. by the way, what is it i hear about your finding a body down on the sands?" "it is quite true," geoffrey said gravely. "the body of dr. tchigorsky." "tchigorsky! dr. tchigorsky! do you really mean that?" the smooth, velvety voice had risen to a hoarse scream. disappointment, joy, relief danced across the woman's gleaming eyes. for the moment she seemed to forget that she had a companion. "what a dreadful thing!" she said, catching her natural voice again. "how did it happen?" geoffrey gave her the details without flinching. "it was a bit of shock for us," he said, "but we are accustomed to them. of course it will be brought in that the poor fellow met with an accident, but there is not the slightest doubt that the poor fellow was murdered." "murdered! why should you say that?" "i don't know. of course i have no evidence. but tchigorsky chose to interest himself in our affairs, and he has paid the penalty. that was exactly what marion said when she saw the body." "so that poor child actually saw the corpse! how terrible!" "marion did not seem to mind. she is small and slender, but has courage and resolution." mrs. may nodded. she had received information that was a long way from being distasteful to her. she plied geoffrey with questions as to what tchigorsky had said and done, but geoffrey evaded them all. tchigorsky had said nothing; he had hinted vaguely at what he was going to do. "i knew him years ago," said mrs. may. "oh, indeed!" geoffrey replied. "he never mentioned that." mrs. may drew a long breath. evidently she had nothing to fear. her arch-enemy had gone to his account, leaving no mischief behind. sooner or later the man would have had to be removed; now he had gone away, saving all the trouble. really, it was very considerate of tchigorsky. "you might come to the inquest and say he was a friend of yours," said geoffrey. mrs. may looked at him sharply. had she said too much or did he suspect? but geoffrey's eyes were clear and innocent of meaning. mrs. may shuddered. these kind of horrors made her ill, she said. "pray do not mention that fact," she implored. "it can do no good and it may cause a great deal of harm." geoffrey disclaimed every intention of making mischief. besides, as mrs. may pointed out, there was his uncle ralph. geoffrey shrugged his shoulders. "it is a hard thing to say," he murmured, "but my poor uncle's testimony would not carry much weight. that accident he had some years ago injured his brain. but he is harmless." mrs. may exchanged a few more or less banal remarks with her companion and drove on. she had got nothing out of geoffrey, but he had baffled her and, what was more, had succeeded in lulling a set of lively suspicious to sleep. the inquest turned out as he had anticipated. the suggestion of foul play was never raised. a surgeon testified to the fact that the deceased met his death by drowning, and that the injury to the face was doubtless caused by a fall on the rocks. beyond that the condition of the body was normal. geoffrey's evidence was plain and to the point. he had little to say. he repudiated the suggestion that the family enemy had had anything to do with the thing. dr. tchigorsky was merely a passing visitor; he had met with an accident, and there was an end of the matter. it was impossible to say more than that. then, to the manifest disappointment of those who had come prepared to be thrilled with sensational details, the inquest was over almost before it had begun. directed by the coroner, the jury brought in a verdict of "found drowned, but how the deceased came by his death there was no evidence to show." rupert ravenspur rose from his seat and ordered the servants to clear the house. "see that they are all out at once," he said. "half an hour ago i found two women--ladies, i suppose they call themselves--in the picture gallery with guide books in the hands. really, there is no sense of decency nowadays." the curious crowd were forced back and once more ravenspur resumed its normal aspect. "i will see to the burial," ravenspur said. "the poor man seems to have no friends. and i feel to a certain extent guilty. geoffrey, you will see that all proper arrangements are made for the funeral?" geoffrey bowed his head gravely. "yes, sir," he said. "i will see to that." chapter xxxvi mrs. may learns something mrs. may sat among her flowers after dinner. she had dined well and was on the very best of terms with herself. it had been a source of satisfaction to see the body of her worst enemy laid to rest in the village churchyard that afternoon. for years she had planned for the death of that man and for years he had eluded her. to strike him down foully had been too dangerous, for had he not told her that he was prepared for that kind of death? had he not arranged it so that a score of savants in europe should learn the truth within a month of his decease? "and kindly fate has removed him for me," she said as she puffed with infinite content at one of her scented cigarettes. "there is no longer any danger. what have i to fear now from those wise men of the east? nothing. they will see that tchigorsky has died a natural death and will destroy those packets. i can act freely now." a strange look came over the lovely face, a look that boded ill for somebody. then the whole expression changed as geoffrey entered. she had seen him that afternoon; she had asked him to come and he had half promised to do so. that mrs. may hated the young man and all his race with a fanatical hatred was no reason why, for the present, she should not enjoy his society. she was a strange woman, this eastern, with a full knowledge of western ways and civilization. she could be two distinct beings in as many minutes. a moment ago she was a priestess thirsting for the blood of those who had defiled her creed, for the blood of those to the third or fourth generation, and almost instantly she was the charming hostess she would have been in a country mansion or a west end drawing room. she waved geoffrey to a seat. "i hardly dared hope you would come," she said. "but now you are here, make yourself at home. there are some of the cigarettes you liked so well and the claret purchased for me by a connoisseur. i never touch wine myself, but i know you men appreciate it after dinner." geoffrey took a cigarette and poured himself out a glass of the superb claret. the bouquet of it seemed to mingle with the flowers and scent the room. geoffrey mentally likened himself to an italian gallant upon whom lucretia borgia smiled before doing him to death. not that he had any fear of the wine. mrs. may was a criminal, but she was not a clumsy one. she would never permit herself to take risks like that. nevertheless, it was very pleasant, for when mrs. may chose to exercise her fascinations there was no more delightful woman. and there was always the chance of picking up useful information. mrs. may touched lightly on tchigorsky, to which geoffrey responded with proper gravity. had mrs. may known that tchigorsky himself was not more than a mile away she would have been less easy in her mind. "no more visions lately?" she asked. "no more," geoffrey replied. "but they will come again. we are hopelessly and utterly doomed; nothing can save us. it is to be my turn next." mrs. may started. there was an expression on her face that was not all sympathy. "what do you mean by that?" she demanded. geoffrey slowly extracted from his pocket a sheet of paper. he had discovered it in his plate that morning at breakfast time. long and earnestly it had been discussed by himself and ralph and tchigorsky, and it had been the suggestion of the last-named that geoffrey should find some pretext for mentioning it to mrs. may. "this was by my plate this morning," he said. "i don't mind showing it to you, because you are a good friend of mine. it is a warning." it was a plain half sheet of note-paper, the sort sold in general shops at so many sheets a penny. the envelope was to match. just a few lines had been laboriously printed on the paper. "take care," it ran. "you are marked down for the next victim; and they are not likely to fail. you are not to go on the sea till you hear from me once more; you are not to venture along the cliffs. if you show this to anybody i shall not be able to warn you again, and your doom will be sealed.--one who loves you." that was all there was; nothing at the top or the bottom. mrs. may turned this over with a puzzled face and a hand that shook slightly. under her smile was another expression, the look of one who has been betrayed and is in a position to lay her hand upon the guilty person. "you are fortunate to have friends with the enemy," she said. "but do you think you were wise to show this to me?" she was playing with him as the cat plays with the mouse. it was a temptation she could not resist, feeling sure that geoffrey would not understand. but he did, though he did not show it on his face. "why not?" he asked innocently. "are you not my friend? personally i believe it is a hoax to frighten me. you can keep that paper if you please." "then you are not going to take any notice of the warning?" asked mrs. may. there was a note of curiosity, sharp, eager curiosity, in the question. geoffrey did not fail to notice it, though he shook his head carelessly. "i am going to ignore it, as one should ignore all anonymous letters," he said. "if the writer of that letter thinks to frighten me, then he or she is sadly mistaken. i shall go on with my life as if i had never received it." mrs. may's lips framed the sentence, "the more fool you," but she did not utter it. it filled her with satisfaction to find that the warning had been ignored, as it had filled her with anger to know that a warning had been received. and mrs. may knew full well who was the author of that letter. "i don't think that i should ignore it," she said. "it may be a cruel piece of mischief; and, on the other hand, it may be dictated by a generous desire to help you. so the moral is that you are to keep clear of the cliffs and the sea." geoffrey flicked the ash off his cigarette and laughed. he poured himself out a second glass of the amazing claret. "it is an unusual thing for me to do," he said, "but your claret is wonderful. you speak of the moral, i speak of the things as they are going to be. to-morrow i shall go out fishing alone as if nothing had happened." "ah, but you have not spoken of this?" mrs. may indicated the letter lying on the table. geoffrey looked at her reproachfully. "have we not trouble and misery enough in our house without making more?" he asked. "now, i put it to you as a lady of brains and courage, if you had been in my position, would you have shown that to your family?" geoffrey lay back in his chair with the air of a man who has put a poser. at the same time he had ingeniously parried mrs. may's question. as a matter of fact, nobody but ralph and tchigorsky had seen the paper. and the latter point-blank refused to give his reasons why the letter was to be disclosed to mrs. may. she looked at geoffrey with real admiration. "i shouldn't," she said. "of course, you are right and i am wrong. and i dare say you will be able to take care of yourself." he was going to disregard the warning; he was going out alone; and nobody knew what was hanging over his head! here was a fool of fools, a pretty fellow to assist. much good that warning had done. geoffrey rose to his feet. "and now i must go," he said. "still, i hope to come again." the door closed, and she was alone. hardly had he departed before a dark figure in a white robe crept out of the gloom of the garden into the room. mrs. may looked at the ragged looking stranger fixedly. "who are you, and whence do you come?" she asked in her native tongue. the man salaamed almost to the ground. "i am ben heer, your slave," he said, "and i bring you great news." "oh!" mrs. may said slowly; "and so you have come at last." chapter xxxvii diplomacy mrs. may crossed rapidly and noiselessly to the door and closed it. not that there was any need for caution, seeing that the primitive household had been abed long ago. but precaution is never wasted. there was coffee in the grate kept hot by means of a spirit lamp. mrs. may poured out a cup and handed it to her guest. she lay back in her chair watching him with a keen glance and the easy, natural insolence, the cruel cutting superiority of the great over the small. the man stood, his hands thrust into the folds of his loose sleeves, a picture of patient resignation. "how did you get here?" the princess asked. "at the great house in london i asked, o mistress," ben heer replied. "i came over, as thou knowest, to do certain work. there was yet another one with me. and when my work was done i came on to tell what thy slave had accomplished." "you have proofs of what you say?" "else i had not been here. for two years we have followed up the track of the victim. it was as if we had searched for one single perch in the whole of a great lake of water. but we never tired and never slept both at the same time. then at last we got near, and it came to the knowledge of the prey that we were upon him. that was long before the last cold weather that nearly starved us." the man paused and shivered. the princess nodded with careless sympathy. she had never tried a winter in england, but she could imagine what it was. "he knew us at last," ben heer resumed. "he met us face to face in the public street, and he knew that his hour had come. a night later he was in paris. at the same time we were in paris also. he tried rome, vienna, berlin. so did we. then he came back to london again. when he did so we knew that he had bowed his face before the all-seeing, and prayed that the end might come speedily." the princess followed all this with impatience. but the man was speaking after the manner of his kind and could not be hurried. he would go on to the end without omitting a single detail and the princess was forced to listen. despite the western garb and the evidences of western life and custom about her, she was no longer mrs. may, but princess zara. she had only to close her eyes and the droning intonation and passionless voice of the speaker took her back to lassa again. and the day was near, ah! the day was near, when the goal would be reached. "once we had him and once he escaped," ben heer went on. "he was a brave man was voski, and nothing could break down those nerves of iron. he knew that the end was near. it was in a big house--a house near to london--that we found him. "there were servants, and they were glad to have their fortunes told. it was their evening meal on the table when we got there, and the man voski sahib was out. then, behold, after that evening meal the servants slept till the dawn, and at midnight the master returned. he came into his study and the bright flash of the lightning came at the touch of his fingers." "electric light," the princess said impatiently. "go on." "then he saw us. we knew that he had no weapon. the door we barred. then voski, he sit down and light a cigar, smiling, smiling all the time. when we look at him we see that he moves not so much as a little finger. there was no sign of fear, except that he look at a little box on the table now and then." "ah," the princess cried. "you got it, eh?" ben heer made no direct reply. he was not to be hurried. he meant to describe a sordid murder in his own cold-blooded way. probably he did not regard the thing as a crime at all; he had been acting under the blessing of the priests. "'you have come for it?' he asked. "we bowed low with respect, saying that we had come for it. he lay back in his chair, making a sign for me to approach. previously we had told him that it was useless for him to call out to the servants." "you did not tell those servants their fortunes in your present garb?" "no, no, my mistress. we no such pigs as that.... sahib voski bid me approach. my friend had the 'pi' ready on the cloth.... it was held to the head of the other. and so he died peacefully in his chair." "ah, so you say. where are your proofs?" ben heer slowly withdrew a white packet from the folds of his dress. "what better proof could the slave of my illustrious mistress have?" he asked. "it is here--the precious stone with the secrets of the gods written on it. behold!" with a slightly dramatic gesture a glittering fragment of something that looked like green jade was held on high. the princess grasped it eagerly and devoured it with her eyes. words were pouring in a liquid stream from her lips; she was transformed almost beyond recognition. "at last," she murmured, "at last! but the other one--your companion. how did he die? you say he is dead. how?" ben heer shook his head sadly. "i cannot say," he replied. "it might have been some scheme on the part of sahib voski. when we got back to our room in london we were both dreadfully ill. for days i lie, and when i get better they tell me my poor friend is dead and buried. "then i understood why voski sahib smile and smile in that strange way. it was witchcraft, perhaps, or some devil we do not know in the east--but there is the stone." the princess was regarding the shining stone with a besotted enthusiasm that seemed grotesquely out of place with her dress and surroundings. perhaps this suddenly flashed upon her, for she carefully locked up the stone. "you have done well, ben heer," she said, "and shall not go unrewarded. the worst part of our task is over, the rest is easy." "then the princess goes not back to lassa?" ben heer asked. "oh, not yet, not yet. not till they are destroyed, root and branch to the smallest twig on the tree. i have not spared myself and i am not going to spare others. yet there remain those of the accursed race yonder, the ravenspurs. they know too much, they have that which i require. i will kill them off--they shall die----" "as my mistress slew her husband when his life was of no more value to her?" "ah, so you know that. you would not reproach me, ben heer?" "does the slave reproach the master who keeps his carcass from the kennel?" ben heer asked, as he bowed low. "my mistress was right; her hands were washed whiter than the snow in the blood of the christian. it was well; it was just." "then you shall help me, for there is much to be done. take this ring. place it on your finger and go to the others. they are outside waiting. give them the call, thus." the princess made a faint noise like the drowsy call of a bird and ben heer caught it up at once. he had heard it many times before. then he slipped out like a cat in the darkness, and presently the call came from the gloom. a moment later it was answered and then all was still again. mrs. may, who had discarded the princess for a moment, closed her window, drew the blinds and lighted a cigarette. it was a glad night for her. "so those two are out of the way," she murmured. "the road is clear at last--clear to the vengeance that must be mine. and with the vengeance comes the wealth that should make me a feared and dreaded power in the east. give me but the wealth and lassa shall be my footstool." chapter xxxviii geoffrey gets a shock ralph ravenspur had wandered along the cliffs and geoffrey had followed him. the latter came up to the blind man at the loneliest part of the rugged granite, and there for a time they sat. ralph was graver and more taciturn than usual, till presently his head was raised and he seemed to be listening to something intently. "what is the matter?" geoffrey asked. "somebody is close to us," ralph explained. "somebody is creeping up to us in the gorse. nay, you need not move. we are safe here on this bare ledge. there is one thing there is no cause to fear in dealing with these miscreants, and that is firearms. weapons of that description make a noise and your oriental hates noise when he is out on the kill. ah, what did i tell you? somebody is close by." a figure rose out of the gorse, a slender figure with a ragged beard and brown face. the stranger crept along and dropped by geoffrey's side. "don't be alarmed," he said. "it is only i--tchigorsky." geoffrey was astonished, though he had no occasion to be. ralph took the matter coolly. "i expected something like this," he said. "i knew you would desire to see me, and that is why we came along the rocks." tchigorsky lay on his back puffing at a cigarette. "keep your eyes open," he said to geoffrey. "one can't be too particular. not that there is any danger, for i've sent those two wretches off on a wild-goose chase for an hour or two, and the she-devil is down with one of her blinding headaches. you wouldn't think she was a woman whose heart is in a weak state, eh?" "i shouldn't have supposed she had one," said geoffrey. "have you seen her?" "i was in her company for a long time last night," tchigorsky explained. "i posed as one of the murderers of voski; i gave her proofs of my success." "the forged garuda stone," ralph chuckled. "the same," tchigorsky said gravely. "it was a magnificent forgery, and calculated to deceive those pious murderous old rascals at lassa. at any rate, i am now deep in the confidence of the princess, and attached to her subordinates, who are pledged to assist in wiping out the ravenspur family." geoffrey sighed involuntarily. he would have liked to know why this vendetta aimed at his family, but he knew that the question would be useless. still, he felt that a great deal had been gained during the last few hours. "have you learned what the latest villainy is?" ralph asked. "not yet. there is much uneasiness and alarm felt over the recent failures, and my dusky allies are getting a little frightened. for the next day or two i expect we shall lie low and plan some big _coup_. "what i want to secure now are the princess' private papers. i know she has them and is in regular communication with the priests at lassa. give me these and i can expose the whole plot. let me wipe these three people out, and then lassa shall get a hint that will save further trouble from that quarter. "a hint from the india office that any more rascality will mean an expedition to lassa and the destruction of their temples will suffice. but first i must have my proofs. without proofs i am helpless." "find them," ralph croaked; "find them. never mind the scandal, never heed what people may say. bring the matter home, hang those wretches, and we shall never more be troubled by this plague from the east. if i had my way i should shoot the whole lot." "and be hanged for your pains," tchigorsky replied. "ah, my friend, there are serious flaws in the criminal laws of this fine country of yours. patience, patience. i shall find out everything in time." "there is one thing i am curious to know," said geoffrey. "i want to know who was the girl on the cliff with mrs. may that afternoon, the girl who has such an amazing likeness to marion. have you discovered that, tchigorsky?" "that is what i am trying to get at myself," tchigorsky replied with great gravity. "it is one of the mysteries of the campaign." geoffrey said no more on the point, chiefly because he had no more to say. yet it was haunting him now as it had done for some time past. it filled his mind as he made his way down the cliffs after luncheon. and then, to his surprise, as he gained the sands he saw a figure rise from the rocks and flit along the beach until it flashed round a distant point. it was the girl who bore that surprising resemblance to marion. she was dressed, as before, in a blue skirt and red tam-o'-shanter. with a sudden impulse geoffrey followed. his feet flew over the heavy sands, making no noise. as he turned the rocky point he saw no signs of the girl, but there on the beach with her sketch-book on her knee was marion herself, so deeply interested in manipulating her water colors that she did not see geoffrey till he hailed her. "did you see her?" geoffrey gasped. marion smiled at his excited face. "see whom?" she asked. "oh, yes, some girl did pass me; but i was so busily engaged that i did not look up. how do you think my sketch is progressing? i have been at it all the morning. vera made me a small bet that i should not finish it to day, so i am going to win my bet, or perish in the attempt." geoffrey was hardly listening. he recollected that there had been some little chaff at luncheon over some sketch, but he had paid little heed to the subject. "it was the same girl," he said. "the girl so like you. oh, marion, how unfortunate you did not look up!" "it was indeed," marion replied. she appeared to be deeply interested. "i would have given anything to see her. but it is not too late. put my materials in your boat, geoff, and i will follow up the cliffs. i can't be very much use--i'm afraid--but at any rate i may solve this much of the mystery." geoffrey returned to his boat. it seemed very strange to him that marion should not have seen the girl, and also that on each occasion these two should have been so close together without meeting. geoffrey pushed his boat out, got his sails up, and then stood out for the bay. it was very quiet, and no other boats were to be seen. one or two of the upper windows of the castle were visible from there, but no other signs of habitation. the breeze freshened as geoffrey reached the open sea. some distance from him a pile of wreckage covered with a mass of seaweed floated on the water. "i'll anchor here and get my lines out," said geoffrey. he luffed and as he did so a puff of wind filled the sail. the mast gave an ominous crack, and the whole thing snapped and went by the board. geoffrey stared with widely open eyes. the wind was as nothing, barely enough to belly the sail. then he looked down and saw that the mast had been almost sawn away. somebody had cut it nearly through, so that the first puff would suffice. geoffrey felt vaguely alarmed and uneasy. he was a good four miles from shore and was an indifferent swimmer. the sea was too dangerous and rough for bathing. there might be further treachery. he sat down and pulled hard at the oars with the idea of returning to the beach again. as he bent his back to the work, he toppled over the seat with two short stumps in his hands. the oars, too, had been sawed through and geoffrey was helpless, four miles from land in an open boat, with no means of progress and nobody in sight. the position was alarming. there would be nothing for it but to wait until some passing craft came along and picked him up. but the time went by without any sign of a boat and starvation might be the result. nor was the position improved when it began to dawn upon geoffrey that the boat was filling fast. he saw that a large hole had been bored in the bottom and filled with some kind of substance that slowly dissolved in the water. with a tin dipper geoffrey worked away with all his might, but he could only keep the water from rising higher, and knew that the exertion would soon tell upon him. "help!" he cried. "help! help! help!" he ceased to call as suddenly as he had begun. what was the use of calling so long as nobody could hear him? and why waste the breath that would be so precious to him later? he could not see that the mass of wreckage and seaweed had drifted close to the boat. he saw nothing till a line thrown into the boat struck him smartly on the face. he looked up. "can you manage to keep her afloat?" a hoarse voice came from the wreckage. "for an hour, perhaps," geoffrey replied. "why?" "that will do," said the other. "i've got a paddle here. hitch the rope on to the nose of the boat and bail out for all you are worth. this is another of the princess's little tricks. i expected it. only it hasn't turned out quite in the way that i anticipated. now, bail away." "tchigorsky," geoffrey gasped. "tchigorsky!" "very much at your service. i rigged up this contrivance this morning and pushed off with it, not long before you came down. but never mind me. stick to your dipper, and i'll tell you all about it when we are ashore." it was hard and weary work for both of them, but it was accomplished at last. geoffrey was utterly exhausted when the boat was safely beached, and tchigorsky, too, felt the effect of his exertions. he lifted himself cautiously off his raft and made a dart for one of the caves. inside he had dry clothing, long flowing robes, wig, and hair for his face, pigments that changed the hue of one hemisphere to that of another. geoffrey, limp and exhausted, watched the artistic transformation with admiration. "it's wonderful," he said, "but then you are a wonderful man, tchigorsky. how did it all happen? who did it?" tchigorsky smiled as he touched up his face. "it was inspired by a woman and carried out by a woman," he said. "i dared not warn you before you started, and indeed i expected further developments. but a woman doctored your boat for you." geoffrey started as an idea came to him. "was she young and good looking?" he asked "dressed in----" "dressed," tchigorsky smiled, "in a blue serge dress and a red tam-o'-shanter. i need not ask if you have met the lady before." chapter xxxix princess zara's terms geoffrey had no reason to fear anything from his adventure in the way of catching cold, seeing that beyond his feet he was not in the least wet. but the exertion had brought the great beads to his forehead, and he lay at the entrance to the cave exhausted. meanwhile tchigorsky had appeared again clad in the long oriental robes that suited him so well. even in the strong light that filtered through a crack on to his face geoffrey found it impossible to recognize him. "are you feeling better?" he asked. "all right," geoffrey gasped. "i'm a little bit pumped, of course." tchigorsky pointed to the boat pulled over the ledge of rock. "then oblige me by shoving her off and letting her sink in shallow water," he said. "it is not pleasant and may cause your friends a great deal of anxiety, but for a little while it will be necessary for the world to regard you as one who has met with a watery grave." "but surely this does not apply to my family?" geoffrey asked anxiously. "to your family most of all," said tchigorsky coolly. "it is all part of the scheme. "my dear boy, i am the last man in the world to cause unnecessary suffering--goodness knows i have had enough of my own--but one must be cruel to be kind sometimes. i have worked out the scheme; i have seen the enemy's cards, and i am playing mine accordingly. i tell you the step is imperative." "but vera," geoffrey groaned. "it will kill vera. in normal circumstances the shock would be great; with a girl who has been so awfully tried the news may mean loss of reason." "i have thought of that," tchigorsky said. "at least your uncle ralph and i have worked it out between us. miss vera is not to know anything of our scheme, but she is to know that you are safe and well. come, i fancy you can trust ralph ravenspur." geoffrey nodded. he felt easier in his mind. not that he was satisfied, but it would be flying in the face of providence to interfere with the delicate and deeply laid scheme of a man like tchigorsky. "all right," he said. "i'll do as you desire." "then push the boat off without further delay. you will understand why i don't want to be seen in the matter. go, before any one comes along." geoffrey went obediently. he had not much fear of anybody passing. nevertheless he did not neglect proper precautions. as he reached the cave again he found tchigorsky lying on a heap of dry seaweed smoking a cigarette. "i suppose i have to thank mrs. may for this?" geoffrey asked. "for this and other things," tchigorsky nodded. "i knew it was coming; in fact, very little can happen now that i am not in a position to discount. my ruse succeeded capitally. behold in me ben heer, one of the two miscreants who succeeded in destroying voski. my colleague perished in the attempt." "the princess is convinced of that?" "absolutely. she is certain that i, sergius tchigorsky, have gone over to the great majority. besides, i have placed proofs of my alleged crime in her hand--the garuda stone all the fuss was about. it is a clever imitation, but that is beside the question." "so you have been taken into her confidence?" "well, not exactly that. but every new scheme is relegated so far as details are concerned to some of us, and therefore i am in a position to discount the future. in ordinary circumstances i should simply have warned you against going fishing to-day, and thus checkmated the foe again; but that would have been inartistic. "besides, i wanted the princess to regard you as another victim, hence the whole of this rather cheap dramatic business. you will come to life again in a few hours--when we shall have to be guided by events." "who was it who tampered with the boat?" "you will learn in good time. let us meanwhile assume that it was the work of one of my dusky companions. for the present you and i remain where we are--till dark probably--when it will be possible to smuggle you up to your uncle's room. i have not been regardless of your creature comforts. here are cold meat and a bottle of champagne. we dine together." geoffrey accepted his portion with resignation. and tchigorsky was an entertaining companion. there was no dullness in his presence. "very well," geoffrey said as he lighted a cigarette. "we are safe here. now's the time for a further recital of your thrilling adventures in lassa." "agreed," tchigorsky cried. "where did i leave off?" "you had been gagged and bound at the instigation of the princess." "true. it is also true that but for the intervention of the same princess we should have been torn to pieces on the spot; and, incidentally, i may mention that that would have resulted in the absolute extinction of the house of ravenspur. the men who a moment before had been grave, reserved priests were transformed instantly into raging fiends. "had they been possessed by devils they could not have flamed out more suddenly. they were mad to know that the secrets of all ages had passed into the hands of christian dogs--dogs who had defiled their altars. and yet much the same kind of barbarous fanaticism has been displayed in civilized dominions. they were not any worse than the bigots who burned your english martyrs. "we should have been torn to pieces on the spot, as i told you, but for the authority of the princess. so commonplace a death did not suit her ideas of the eternal fitness of things. many and many a time afterwards, when racked by agony, i deeply deplored that supposed act of clemency. it would have been a far more merciful death. "well, we were spared for the moment and cast into a loathsome dungeon, where we were overrun with vermin, great rats which we had constantly to drive off, and spiders whose bite was very painful. "how long we lay without food i don't know; anyway, it seemed days. perhaps it was only so many hours. try lying in the pitch dark fighting with nameless unseen terrors and see how many bitter years can be crammed into a minute. and yet we knew there was far worse to come. but for the fact that we were together and could cheer the black hours with the sound of each other's voices we should have gone mad. one moment we were cast down in the depths of gloom, the next we prayed for death; anon we laughed and sang sketches of gay songs. we were not insane, but were treading perilously near to the borderland. "then, after many years--or so it seemed to us--they fetched us again. we were not led into the banqueting hall, but to a long, low vault-like place on the floor of which were two shallow tanks or baths covered over with a frame of iron, and from the frame of iron ran long sliding rods for all the world like a bird cage, only the sliding wires of the cage ran far into the room. "around these cages were glowing charcoal fires, the greater part of the sliding bars or wires growing red and crocus blue from the heat. what did it mean? "i wondered. ah! i was very soon to know." tchigorsky drew a deep breath and a shudder passed over his powerful frame. the moisture on his forehead was not due to the heat alone. "on a throne of stone the princess was seated. a few of the higher grade priests were grouped around her. evidently they had been discussing us, and had made up their minds. we were not going to be tried even. [illustration: on a throne of stone the princess was seated, a few of the higher grade priests grouped around her.--page .] "'stand there!' the princess commanded! 'dogs, do you want to live?' "ralph ravenspur said nothing. he was ever a man of few words. "'we have no desire to die,' i replied. 'nothing that breathes ever has. even if i were an old man with one foot in the grave the desire for life would be as strong upon me as it is now!' "the princess smiled. i will not try to describe that smile. if you had seen it you would have given ten years of your life to forget it again. "it is in your hands to live,' the woman said; 'it is for you to say whether or not you return to your people. but you shall not carry our cherished secrets to the west. you shall live, you shall go free, but you shall take no memory of the past with you!' "i guessed at once what she meant. there were attendants upon the priests, poor fools who fetched and carried, who would undertake errands one at a time, but who had no reasoning powers, no wits of their own. "they were not born idiots; they had been made so. they are put under drugs, a portion of the scalp is removed, and then some small fragment of the brain is destroyed. we could have our liberty if we chose, but at what price! we could go free, but for the rest of our lives we should never know the blessed light of reason again. "i tell you it came to me like a cold shock and turned me faint and giddy. as i glanced at my companion i saw that he was ghastly as myself. what use was life to us under such conditions! and the fiends were equal to the cruelty of getting us to consent to this operation and then detaining us afterwards. we should be a mockery among them and a warning to others. "there was no reason to discuss this defined cruelty, this vile offer. we glanced at each other and shook our heads. far better death than this. we knew how to die; we could have drawn our revolvers and shot each other then and there. but we did not. while there was life there was hope." chapter xl the iron cage tchigorsky made a long pause before he resumed his story. his nerves appeared to require composing. it was impossible to shake off the horror of the past. at length he went on again. "i saw the cruel light flame into the eyes of the princess; i saw that she was pleased and yet sorry to learn our decision. she gave a sign and we were brought nearer to her. "'you understand what your refusal means!' she said. 'you have been here long enough to know how carefully our secrets are guarded and also how we punish those who try to read them. where are those scripts?' "we had no scripts and i said so. as a matter of fact, such formulæ and papers as we had managed to become possessed of had been smuggled beyond lassa to ralph ravenspur's servant, elphick, who had conveyed them to a place of safety. but my statement was without effect. "'strip them,' she said, 'and put them in the baths.' "we were going to learn then what those cages were for. "there is no need to remove our clothing,' i cried. 'we will do it ourselves!' "i was afraid our revolvers should be discovered, or the cartridges be rendered useless by immersion. ralph seemed to understand, for, like myself, he quickly discarded his robes and slippers and professed himself to be ready. "then the grating was raised and we were placed on our back in a shallow bath formed in the shape of a coffin, and not more than ten inches deep. as first the baths were empty, but gradually they were filled with water until we had to raise our faces and press them against the bars to breathe. i thought that we were to be suffocated in this shallow water--a dreadful idea that filled me with stifling anxiety--but there was worse to come." again tchigorsky paused and wiped his brow. "the suspense was torture; the terrible uncertainty of what was going to happen was agony. imagine being drowned with a bare half-inch of water over your lips and nostrils. i turned my head a fraction of an inch on one side, and then i saw that the water could not rise quite high enough to drown me without overflowing the edge of the bath. evidently this was but the first chapter in the book of lessons. we could breathe by placing our faces against the bar. what next? "there was no occasion to ask the question. though my heart was drumming like the wings of an imprisoned fly, and though there was the roar of a furnace in my ears, i could make out the crack and rattle of machinery, and the bars over the cage began to move. my face, to escape the water, was so closely pressed to the bars that the friction was painful. "the bars slid along, and as they did so i remembered the long projecting ends which were glowing yellow and blue in the braziers. my heart ceased drumming and then seemed to stand still for the moment. i had guessed the riddle. a second later and the horizontal bars over my face were white hot. "here was the situation, then--i had either to press my face against those cruel bars or drown in a few inches of water. could the mind of man imagine a more diabolical torture? i cried aloud; i believe my friend did also, but i cannot say. my face flinched involuntarily from the scar of the blistering iron; i held my breath till the green and red stars danced before my eyes. "flesh and blood could stand it no longer, and i was literally bound to raise my head. into the flesh, as you have seen for yourself, those hot barriers pressed, while i filled my lungs with a deep draught of delicious air. but the agony was so great that i had to go down again. the water cooled the burns for the moment. but you can imagine how it intensified the agony afterwards. "when i raised myself again the bars were cool. but only for an instant, for they came hot once more, this time in a horizontal direction. the same ghastly business was enacted; again there was the sense of semi-suffocation, again the long draught of pure air and the pain from the bars. and then, while wondering, half-delirious, how long it could last, something gave way and i fainted. "that i deemed to be death; but it was nothing of the kind. when i came to i was lying on the floor writhing in agony from my wounds. fortunately i had not lost my sight, nor had ralph at that time. he was to discover later that the injuries received were fatal to his eyes. "he was lying by my side and groaning with pain like myself. a more hideous and more repulsive sight than my companion's face i never wish to look upon. and doubtless he had the same thoughts of me. but i did not think of that at the moment. "we were alone. i staggered to my feet and across to the door. it was fastened, of course. for a time we were too maddened by pain to take heed of anything, but gradually reason came back to us. my first idea was of revenge. ralph had grasped for his robes and his revolver was in his hand. "'heaven help the first man who comes in!' he yelled. "like a drunken lunatic, i applauded the sentiment. for a minute we were both mad as the drugged malay who runs amuck. fortunately nobody did come in for some time, and gradually wiser counsels prevailed. we slipped into our garments and hid our revolvers. then from raging madmen we passed to tears. we were so spent and exhausted that we cried like little children. "but men like ourselves are not easily daunted. the pain was still great, but this only stimulated our desire to live and gain the better of those who had so cruelly used us. later a priest conducted us into another room, where the princess awaited us. "she smiled as she looked at our faces. that smile was nearly the end of her. many a time since have i regretted that i didn't finish her career then and there. had she betrayed the least sign of fear i should have done so. and by so doing your people would have been saved many a bitter sorrow." "at the expense of your life," geoffrey said. tchigorsky shrugged his shoulders. "what matter?" he said. "the few suffer for the many. well, as i was saying----" the speaker paused suddenly as his eye caught something moving along the beach. it was the figure of a woman creeping along as if in search of some missing object. she proceeded very slowly until she approached the spot where the boat lay filled and sunk, and then she paused abruptly. for a minute she stood fascinated by the sight, then she flung her hands high in the air, and a bitter wailing cry escaped her. if she had been a fisherman's wife suddenly brought face to face with the dead body of her husband or lover, her wail of anguish had not been more poignant. "who can she be?" geoffrey asked. tchigorsky said nothing. the woman stood with her hands raised. as she turned and ran towards the cliffs, moaning as she went, geoffrey started. "marion," he said. "marion." he would have dashed forward, but tchigorsky restrained him. "that is not your marion," he said. "your marion does not dress like that." geoffrey looked again. it was marion and yet not marion. it was the girl in the blue serge dress and red tam-o'-shanter who resembled her so strikingly. what did this girl know about him, and why did she stand wailing over his boat? he felt he must solve this mystery. "sit down," tchigorsky said slowly. "sit down." "but," geoffrey cried, "i insist upon knowing----" "and spoiling everything. sit down, i say, or i shall have to detain you. i don't fancy you would care to measure your strength with mine." geoffrey dropped into his seat. "perhaps not," he said. "i don't believe you want me to know who that girl is." "i have heard worse guesses," tchigorsky said dryly. chapter xli waiting they were growing uneasy at the castle. there was a forced cheerfulness about the small party that testified to the nervous tension that held them. for some years now there had been a tacit understanding on the subject of punctuality. such a thing was necessary when any moment might precipitate the next catastrophe. the mere fact of anybody being late for five minutes sufficed to put the rest in a fever. and geoffrey had not come in to tea at all. the thing was almost in itself a tragedy. geoffrey was always so considerate of others. nothing in the world would have induced him to stay away without first saying he was going to do so or sending a message. and tea had been a thing of the past for a good hour. what could have become of him? nobody asked the question, but it was uppermost in the minds of all. vera was chattering with feverish gayety, but there was a blazing red spot on her ghastly white face, and her eyes were wild and restless. marion had slipped away. the only one who betrayed no anxiety was ralph. he sat sipping his chilled tea as if he had the world to himself and there was nobody else in it. presently, with one excuse or another, all slipped away until vera was alone with ralph. he was so quiet that she had almost forgotten his presence. when she thought herself alone she rose to her feet and paced the room rapidly. she pressed her hands to her throbbing temples. "god spare him," she whispered, "spare him to me! oh, it is wicked to feel like this and so utterly selfish. but if geoffrey dies i have nothing to live for." the tears rose to her eyes, tears of agony and reproach and self-pity. ralph crossed the room silently. he was upon the girl ere she had heard the soft fall of his footsteps. he laid a hand on vera's arm. "geoffrey is not going to die," he said. vera suppressed a scream. she might have cried out, but something in the expression of ralph's face restrained her. "are you sure of that?" she asked. "as sure as one can be certain of anything, child. we are alone?" "there is nobody else here, uncle." "one cannot be too careful," ralph muttered. "then geoffrey is safe." "thank heaven. you have sent him somewhere, uncle?" "no, i have not sent him anywhere. and you are not to ask any questions. i have told you so much to spare you the agony and suspense that will overtake the others. i tell you because had you not known, the mental strain might have broken you down," continued ralph. "before long it will be proved almost beyond a demonstration that geoffrey has become a victim to the family foe. there will be evidence to convince a jury, but all the time geoffrey will be safe." vera said nothing. she could only gasp. ralph's hand lay on her shoulder with a grip that was not devoid of pain. "you are not to show your feelings to any one," he croaked. "you are not to betray your knowledge by a single sign. ah, if i could tell you how much depends upon your courage, reticence, and your silence!" "i think you can trust me, uncle ralph." "i think i can, dear. i like the ring of your voice. you are to be quiet and subdued as if you were unable to comprehend the full force of the disaster. much, if not everything, depends upon the next few hours. now go, please." ralph slipped away into the grounds. a little later he was making his way along the cliffs toward the village. for a brief time vera stood still. she was trying to realize what ralph had said. "what did it mean?" she asked herself again and again. but she could find no answer to the puzzle. still geoffrey was safe. whatever sensation the next few hours might produce geoffrey had come to no harm. it would be hard to see the others suffer, hard to witness their grief and not lighten it by so much as a sign. but ralph had been emphatic on this point. had he not said that everything hinged upon her reticence and silence? vera went slowly to her room, her feet making no sound on the thick pile carpet. a flood of light streamed through the stained glass windows into the corridor. in the big recess at the end a white figure lay face downward on the cushions. vera approached softly. she saw the shoulders rise and fall as if the girl lying there were sobbing in bitter agony. it was marion. marion the ever cheerful! surely her grief must be beyond the common? "marion," vera whispered. "dear marion." she bent over the prostrate figure with heartfelt tenderness. marion raised her face at length. it was wet with tears and her eyes were swollen. at first she seemed not to recognize vera. "go away," she said hoarsely. "why do you intrude upon me like this? am i never to have a minute to myself? am i always to carry the family troubles on my shoulders?" she spoke fiercely, with a gleam in her eyes that vera had never seen before. she drew back, frightened and alarmed. it seemed incredible that gentle marion could repulse her like this. but she did not go. marion was beside herself with grief; she did not know what she was saying. it was impossible to leave her in this condition. "you are grieving for geoffrey," she said. "he will come back to us." "geoffrey is dead," marion wailed. "he will never come back. and i----" she paused; she had not lost control of herself entirely. but the look in her eyes, the expression of her face, the significant pause told vera a story. it burst upon her with the full force of a sudden illumination. "marion," she whispered, "you love him as well as i do----" so her secret was known at last! and marion was only a woman, after all. the selfishness of her grief drove away all other emotions. "as you do?" she cried. "what do you with your gentle nature know of love? you want the wild hot blood in your veins to feel the real fire of a lasting, devouring affection. "i tell you i love him ten thousand times more than you do. look at me, i am utterly lost and abased with my grief and humiliation. am i not an object of pity? geoffrey is dead, i tell you; i know it, i feel it. love him as you do! and you stand there without so much as a single tear for his dear memory." vera flushed. the words stung her keenly. how cold and callous marion must think her! and yet marion would have been equally cold and self-contained had she known. and it was impossible to give her a single hint. "my heart and soul are wrapped up in geoffrey," she said. "if anything happens to him i shall have nothing to live for. but i am not going to give way yet. there is still hope. and i shall hope to the end." marion sat up suddenly and dried her tears. "you are a reproach to me," she said with a watery smile. "not one word of reproof has passed your lips, and yet you are a reproof to me. and to think that you should have learned my secret! i could die of shame." vera kissed the other tenderly. "why?" she asked. "surely there is no shame in a pure and disinterested affection." "from your point of view, no," said marion. "but if you could place yourself in my position you would not regard it in the same light. i have cared for geoffrey ever since i came here; all along i have loved him. i knew that he was pledged to you, and knew that he could never be anything to me and still i loved him. who shall comprehend the waywardness of a woman's heart? and now he is dead." once more the tears rose to marion's eyes; she rocked herself to and fro as if suffering from bitter anguish. "i do not believe that geoffrey is dead," said vera. "something tells me that he will be spared. but why go on like this? anybody would imagine that you had something to do with it from the expression of your face." marion looked up suddenly. "something to do with it?" she echoed dully, mechanically. "i wasn't speaking literally, of course." vera went on. "but your curious expression----" "what is curious about my expression?" "it is so strange. it is not like grief, so much as remorse." marion broke into a queer laugh, a laugh she strangled. as she passed her handkerchief across her face she seemed to wipe out that strange expression. "i hope remorse and i will remain strangers for many a long day," she said more composedly. "it is so difficult to judge from faces. and i must try to be brave like yourself. i have never given way before." "i believe you are the bravest of us all, marion." "and i that i am the greatest coward. i have even been so weak as to allow the secret of my life to escape me. vera, i want you to make me a most sacred promise." "a dozen if you like, dear." "then i want you to promise that geoffrey shall never know of your discovery. at no time are you to tell him. promise." marion looked up eagerly and met vera's eyes. they were clear and true and honest; they were filled with frankness and pity. "i promise from my heart," she said. "not now nor at any time shall geoffrey know what i have learned to-day." marion blessed the speaker tenderly. "i am satisfied," she said. "he will never know." chapter xlii the search mrs. may sat out on the lawn before the rose-garlanded windows of her sitting room. a japanese umbrella was over her dainty head, a scented cigarette between her lips. for some time she had been long and earnestly sweeping the sea with a pair of binoculars. she rose at length and made her way down the garden. there was a rugged path at the bottom, terminating in a thicket that overhung the cliffs. here it would be possible for a dozen men to hide without the slightest chance of being discovered. nobody ever went there by any chance. shaded from the house, mrs. may paused. a softened whistle came from her lips, and then there came from the ground the dusky form of the man who called himself ben heer. he salaamed profoundly. "well!" the woman demanded impatiently. "well?" "well, indeed, my mistress," the sham ben heer replied calmly. "it fell out as you arranged. behold a puff of wind carried away the masts, and behold the oars came into fragments. then the boat began to fill and now lies bottom upward at the foot of the cliff." "but he might have been a powerful swimmer." "he was no swimmer at all. i saw everything." "it was not possible for him to be picked up?" "not possible, my mistress. there was no boat, no sail to be seen. the boat foundered and there was an end of it. i waited for some time and i saw no more." mrs. may nodded carelessly. she might have been receiving the intelligence of the drowning of a refractory puppy. she betrayed neither regret nor satisfaction. "of course, they will guess," she said. "when they come to examine the boat and the oars they will see at once that there has been foul play. once more they will know that the enemy has struck a blow." "my mistress is all powerful," ben heer murmured. "they will try to trace us once more, ben heer." the sham asiatic shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "and they will fail," he said. "they know not the powers arrayed against them; the dogs know not my gracious mistress. meanwhile thy slave can see through the bushes that somebody awaits your presence." mrs. may glanced in the direction indicated by ben heer. on the lawn rupert ravenspur was standing. the woman smiled. there was the head of the hated house actually seeking out the foe. "your eyes are sharper than mine," she said. "well, you have need of them. meanwhile you had better discreetly disappear for the time." mrs. may advanced to greet her guest. he bowed with his old-fashioned grace. "this is an unexpected honor," the woman said. "i can claim nothing on the score of politeness or gallantry," rupert ravenspur replied. he was quiet and polished as usual, but there was a look of deep distress on his face. "i came here not to see you, but in the faint hope of finding my nephew geoffrey. i have ascertained that he came to see you sometimes." "he has been so good," mrs. may murmured. "i assure you i appreciate the company of a gentleman in this deserted spot." "then he has not been here to-day?" "i have not had the pleasure of seeing mr. geoffrey to-day." ravenspur groaned. he turned his face away ashamed that a woman should see him in a moment of weakness. out of the corner of her eye she regarded him. there was not a drop of pity in her heart for him. "i hope you don't anticipate anything wrong," she said. "mr. geoffrey is not a boy that he cannot----" "oh, you do not understand! it is not that at all. in ordinary circumstances i could trust geoffrey to the end of the world. he is a good fellow, and capable of taking care of himself and upholding the family honor. but others as strong and more cunning have fallen before the dreaded foe, until all confidence has left us. i fear much that harm has come to geoffrey." "but surely in the broad daylight----" "daylight or darkness, it is the same. you know nothing of the boy?" "nothing, save that he was going fishing to-day." ravenspur started. "oh," he cried. "then i shall soon know the worst. i am sorry to have troubled you; i will go down to the beach. the others are searching in all directions. nobody will return to the house until we know the lad's fate." ravenspur bowed and was gone. mrs. may smiled after him. so the castle was going to be left for the time being. "this is a chance not to be lost," she murmured. "the full run of the castle! fate is playing into my hands with a vengeance." full of the wildest apprehensions, ravenspur made his way to the beach. it was no easy task for a man of his years, but he made light of it, as he used to half a century ago. two fishermen coming up touched their hats. "have you been out to the west of gull point to-day?" ravenspur asked. "no, sir," was the reply. "not one of us. the mackerel came in from the east, and there were so many we had every bottom afloat. i did hear as mr. geoffrey had gone out in the west bay, but i can't say for sure." again ravenspur groaned; no longer had he the least doubt about what had happened. there had been more foul play, and geoffrey had gone down under the dark waters. the old man's heart was full to bursting, but his grief was for vera more than for himself. "i am afraid there has been another of those tragedies that are so mournfully identified with our name," he said. "wass and watkins, will you come with me?" the fishermen dropped the brown tangled nets upon their shoulders and followed. they were all tenants, vassals almost, of the ravenspurs and ready to do their bidding. the foe would have had a hard time did he fall into the clutches of these veterans. "i am going down to search the beach," ravenspur explained. "i know that my nephew went out fishing this afternoon. i shall know his fate soon." it was some time before anything was found. wass came stumbling over the rocks, and there in a clear pool he saw the boat bottom upward. at the cry of dismay that came from him, watkins hurried up. "give a hand with the painter, bill," wass said hoarsely. "there's the boat right enough with a good round hole under the gunwale." ravenspur watched in silence. he saw the boat beached; he saw the hole in her side. wass pointed to the mast where it had been sawn off. "poor young gentleman," he exclaimed with a hearty outburst of grief. "and to think that we shall never see him again. look at this, sir." "the mast seems to have been sawn off," said ravenspur. "almost off, sir," said watkins. "enough to give if a puff of wind came. and that hole has been plugged with soft glue or something of the kind. if i could only lay a hand on 'em!" he shook his fist in the air in impotent rage; tears filled his eyes. ravenspur stood motionless. he was trying to bring the force of the tragedy home to himself, trying to shape words to tell vera without cutting her to the heart. he was long past the more violent emotions. he turned to wass like a man in a dream. "go up to the castle," he said. "see my son gordon and bid him come here. they must all come down, all aid in the search. not a word more; please go." chapter xliii nearer to geoffrey the position was a strange one. there was something unreal about the whole thing. nor was it pleasant to remember that by this time the family had missed him, and were doubtless bewailing him for dead. "i am afraid there is no help for it," said tchigorsky. "i could not see my way to certain conclusions and ends without inconvenience." "something more than inconvenience," geoffrey murmured. "anxiety, troubles, what you like," tchigorsky replied coolly. "it is necessary. i want to have the castle cleared for a time, and i could think of no better and less suspicious way of doing it. the anxiety and suspense will not last long and by daylight your people shall see you again. and the one who is most likely to suffer has been already relieved." so geoffrey was fain to wait in the cave listening to tchigorsky's piquant conversation, and waiting for the time to come for action. "there will be plenty to do presently," the russian said. "meanwhile i am going to leave you to yourself for a space. the woman who regards me as her servant may need me. and, remember, you are not to leave the cave in any circumstances, else all my delicately laid plans will be blown to the winds." so saying tchigorsky disappeared. it seemed hours before anything happened. it was safe in the cave. nobody was likely to come there, and if they did there was not the slightest chance of discovery, for the cave went far under the cliff and was dark as the throat of a wolf. by and by there came the sound of voices on the beach, and rupert ravenspur, followed by the two fishermen, appeared. geoffrey's heart smote him as he saw his grandfather. then they found the boat, and directly afterwards the two fishermen rushed away, leaving ravenspur behind. it was only the strongest self-control that prevented geoffrey from making his presence known to the figure gazing so sadly at the boat. but he remembered tchigorsky's warning. after all, he reflected, it would only be for a little time. and the head of the family knew nothing of the great conspiracies working themselves out around him. his open honorable nature would have shrunk from the subtle diplomacy and cunning that appealed so powerfully to tchigorsky. rupert ravenspur would not have tolerated the position for a moment. he would have insisted upon going to mrs. may and having the matter out at once, or he would have called in the police. and that course would be fatal. so geoffrey was constrained to stay and watch. presently he saw the fishermen return, followed by the family. there was a gathering about the foundered boat, and then geoffrey turned his eyes away, ashamed to witness the emotion caused by what they regarded as his untimely death. he had seen them all and beheld their grief. he could see marion bent down with a handkerchief to her streaming eyes and the head of the family comforting her. he saw vera apart from the rest, gazing out to sea. beyond, a fleet of boats were coming round the point. they were small fishing smacks in search of the drowned ravenspur. geoffrey pinched himself to make sure he was awake. it is not often that a live man sits watching people search for his dead body. but there was comfort in the knowledge that vera was aware of everything. geoffrey could see that she had been told. that was why she kept apart from the rest. she walked along the sands past the mouth of the cave, her head bent down. flesh and blood could stand it no longer; in the mouth of the cave geoffrey stood and called vera softly by name. the girl started and half turned. "don't be alarmed," geoffrey whispered. "i am in the cave. it is safe here. watch your opportunity and come in, for i must have a few words with you. only do it naturally and don't let anybody suspect." vera had turned her back to the cave, and appeared to be sadly gazing over the sea. gradually she slipped back, watching the others, who apparently had forgotten her, until she was lost in the gloom of the cavern. a moment later and geoffrey had her in his arms. it was good to feel her heart beating against his, to feel her kisses warm on his lips. "did tchigorsky tell you?" he asked. "no, uncle ralph. oh, i am so glad to see you again, geoffrey. i knew you were not lost, that you would be safe after what uncle said, and yet all the time there was a strange void in my heart." "but my darling, i am safe." vera laid her head restfully on his shoulder. "i know, i know!" she said. "but i have had a foretaste of what might have been. when wass and watkins came and told me that your overturned boat had been found, i began to realize what it might be to live without you. dear geoff, will it be long before all this anxiety is disposed of?" geoffrey kissed her trembling lips. "not long, so tchigorsky says, and i have implicit faith in him. the present situation is all part of the plot of our salvation. and the others?" "are heartbroken. my poor grandfather looks ten years older. you know how entirely he has been wrapped up in us. i feel sure that if he could have saved us by sacrificing the rest, himself included, he would have done so." "i know," geoffrey said hoarsely. "i know, dear. and marion?" "marion is sorely disturbed. i hardly know what to make of marion. for the first time she positively appears to be frightened. and marion is not the girl who cries. i was alarmed about her a little time ago," replied vera. "ah, well, it won't be very long," geoffrey said consolingly. "to-morrow morning tchigorsky has promised that i shall be safe and sound in the bosom of the family again. what are they going to do now?" "they are going to search until they find you. all the boats from the village are out, even the servants are assisting. you can understand how i should feel if i did not know everything. i could not stay in the house; i could do no more than wander along the shore feeling that i was helping. it would be impossible to remain in the house and that is what they all feel. there is a full moon to-night, and they will be here till they are exhausted." geoffrey nodded. he was wondering how he was going to account for his absence and for the manner in which he was finally to turn up safe and sound again. he would have to concoct some story of being picked up by a passing boat and landed some way down the coast. "they guess i am a victim to the vendetta?" he asked. "of course. they say the mast and oars were partly sawn away. it will be the talk of the country in a few hours. geoffrey, i must go. don't you see that they have missed me?" vera had been missed. already marion was calling her. there was just the chance that she might be yet another victim. vera slipped out of the cave, walking backwards as if she were looking for something. "you won't betray yourself?" said geoffrey. "i'll try not to, dear. i understand how necessary it is that the truth should be concealed. and yet it is hard not to be able to ease their minds." vera was clear of the cave by this time, and her voice ceased. a few yards farther on and marion came up to her. she was looking pale and ghastly; there were rings under her eyes; her nerves had had a terrible shock. "i couldn't imagine where you had got to," she said. "i looked round, and you had disappeared. i feared you had been spirited away." "by the cruel foe, marion? one by one we go. it may be your turn next." "would to heaven that it was!" marion whispered vehemently. "a little time ago i fancied that i was strong enough to bear up against anything. now i know what a feeble creature i am. before this happened i would a thousand times have been the victim myself. and i--i----" she paused and beat the air impotently. vera wondered. could this really be the strong, self-reliant marion who had uplifted them in so many troubles, this the girl who always had a smile on her face and words of comfort on her lips? this was a weak, frightened creature, with eyes that were haunted. "be brave," said vera, "and be yourself. what should we do without you? why, you are so full of remorse you might have been responsible for geoffrey's death yourself." marion looked up swiftly and then her eyes fell. "it is because i love him," she said. "and i love him, too. but i try to be brave." marion was silent under the reproof. vera was calm and collected. what a reaction there would be later, marion thought. "you have not given up all hope?" she asked. "no, i cannot. it would be too cruel. i cannot imagine that anything really serious has happened to geoffrey. i cannot feel anything for the present, save for you. and my heart is full for you, marion." "ay," marion said drearily. "it need be." vera turned and walked swiftly across the sands. she wanted to be alone now that no danger threatened. then presently the moon rose and shone upon the people gathered on the fringe of the sea. to the impatient geoffrey came ralph ravenspur with a cloak and slouched hat over his arm. chapter xliv still nearer he entered as coolly and easily as if he had been doing this kind of thing all his life, as if he had the full use of his eyesight. "i can't see you, but, of course, you are there," he said. "tchigorsky sent me because he cannot come himself. the jade he calls his mistress has need of him. muffle yourself and follow me. not too closely." geoffrey was only too glad of the opportunity. he passed under the shadow of the rocks until he gained the path to the head of the cliffs and here ralph paused. "we are safe now," he said. "you can remove your disguise and cross the terrace. there is not a living soul in the castle at present." "all the servants are on the beach, then?" "every one of them, both male and female, which is a flattering testimony to your popularity, geoffrey. i opine that they will be pleased to see you in the morning. by the way, have you concocted a plausible story to account for your escape?" "i haven't," geoffrey admitted with a smile. "i preferred to leave it to the greater talents of tchigorsky and yourself. i have no genius for fiction." ralph muttered that the matter might be safely left in their hands, and then they entered the deserted castle and made their way to ralph's room. here the two doors were closed and ralph sat down silently over his pipe. "is anything going to happen?" geoffrey asked. "a great deal during the next hour or two," ralph replied. "but it is impossible to forecast, and you will see it all for yourself in good time. i can't do anything until i have heard further from our friend tchigorsky." half an hour passed in dead silence, and then there was a rapping on the window. when the casement was thrown open, the head of tchigorsky appeared. he was clad in oriental robes and had made his way upwards by climbing the thick ivy that grew on that side of the house. he nodded to geoffrey. "i told you we should meet again," he said. "i have just ten minutes to spare. a cigarette, please." geoffrey handed over the cigarette. "have you discovered it all?" ralph asked. "i have discovered nothing," tchigorsky said calmly from behind the cloud of smoke. "at present i have not the remotest idea which way she will strike." "ah, she is in one of her suspicious moods." "when she trusts nobody. quite right. all i can tell you is that she is coming here presently. she is well aware that there is not a soul in the house. she knows that this state of things is likely to last for some time. she will come by and by, and with her she will bring some great danger to the house of ravenspur. what form that danger is to take i cannot say. but i shall find out." the last words came from tchigorsky's lips with a snap. "but she will want confederates," said geoffrey. "she may or she may not. she is a woman of infinite resource. nobody knows what mischief she is capable of. if she brings me along, i may be exceedingly useful; if she leaves me behind i shall be more usefully employed in going over her papers and documents. you see, i know the language. but, be that as it may, this is going to be an eventful night." tchigorsky finished his cigarette and rose to go. he had few instructions to leave behind him, and these few were of an exceedingly simple nature. all that geoffrey and ralph ravenspur had to do was to watch. they were to keep their eyes open and be largely guided by events. and there were to be no lights. half an hour passed before ralph rose and softly opened the door. for a little time he threw the casement open wide. as geoffrey drew a match from his box ralph laid a restraining hand on his arm. "no more smoking," he said. "i purposely opened the casement to sweeten the air of the room. my dear boy, you do not want to betray us with the smell of fresh tobacco. the enemy would take alarm at once." "i had forgotten," geoffrey murmured. "how stupid of me!" again silence and painful tension on the nerves. presently below came the soft fall of a foot, and then a noise as if a human body had come in contact with some object in the dark. there was the scratch of a match, and a ball of flame flickered in ghastly fashion in the hall. "the foe is here," ralph whispered. "go and look over. your rubber-soled boots are in the corner. put them on." geoffrey did as he desired. he crept along the corridor until he could look down into the hall. there he saw a woman--a woman who wore short skirts and a closely fitting jacket. she had a small lantern in her hand, the light of which she seemed to lower or heighten by pressing a stud. behind her came the two orientals, who carried a small but heavy brass-bound box between them. this, at a sign from the woman, they deposited on the floor. as far as geoffrey could judge neither of these men was tchigorsky. he could catch the sound of whispered conversation, but the words conveyed no meaning to his ears. the two discoursed in a language he did not understand. a hand was laid on geoffrey's arm. he turned to see ralph by his side. the latter bent over the balustrade listening with all his ears. down below the brass box was being opened and the contents were placed upon the floor. the contents looked like machinery, but it was machinery of a kind that geoffrey had never seen before. there was a small disk of hammered copper, and to this was attached a number of what seemed to be india-rubber snakes. at a sign from the woman the two asiatics picked up the box and its contents and started away toward the kitchen. noiseless as they were, ralph heard them. he clutched his companion's arm. "they have gone," he whispered. "in which direction?" "they had moved off towards the kitchen," said geoffrey. "good! this thing is turning out exactly as i expected. they had something with them?" "yes, a thing like a copper octopus with india-rubber tentacles. they have taken it with them. a most extraordinary affair." "it will be more extraordinary still before it is finished," ralph said grimly. "follow them and report what you see. take good care not to be seen. unless i am mistaken they are going down to the vaults and are planning a _coup_ to do for us all to-night." geoffrey crept silently down the stairs. then he made his way swiftly along the passages until he came to the cellars. then the steady blowing of a current of fresh air told him that ralph's suggestion was right. down he went until he came to the channel leading to the vaults. but he was cautious. he peeped down. below him were three figures, and once more they had spread out their queer apparatus. by the side of it were two large glass-stoppered bottles, such as one sees in a laboratory, receptacles for acids and the like. they were tightly tied over the stoppers. the woman picked up one of them and removed the parchment. before she drew the stopper she donned thick glasses and a mask for her face, the two orientals doing the same. they were evidently dealing with some very dangerous poison. the stopper was removed and a few spots of the acid dropped on the copper disc. a white smoke arose, which, small as it was, filled the air with a pungent odor. almost immediately the acid was wiped off and the odor ceased. only just a whiff of it reached geoffrey's nose, but it turned him faint--giddy for an instant. what was going to happen next? chapter xlv baffled geoffrey had not long to wait. from where he was standing he could see down into the vault perfectly well. he would have been better satisfied had he understood what those people were talking about, but their words conveyed nothing to him. on the floor of the vault the queer-looking machinery was spread out, and to the ends of the india-rubber tubes wires were attached. no sooner had this been accomplished than the woman, after giving some rapid instructions to her allies, left the vault. she was so quick that geoffrey barely had time to conceal himself behind a pillar before she passed him. the woman was masked and disguised beyond recognition, but geoffrey had no need to be told who she was. he knew that he was in the presence of mrs. may. and, despite his knowledge of her cleverness and resource, he found himself marveling to see her display so fine a knowledge of the house. the woman passed along, dragging a number of fine light wires after her. the other ends of the wires were attached to the queer-looking apparatus in the vault. mrs. may went along the passages, along the corridor, and up the stairs as if she had been accustomed to the house all her life. surely she must have been here many times before, or she would not have exhibited such fearless confidence. the idea of the black, gliding figure creeping about the house in the dead of night filled geoffrey with loathing. all the same, he did not neglect his opportunities. he followed swiftly and silently until he came to the main corridor on the first landing. here, to his surprise, the woman turned into one of the bed-rooms, the room used by the head of the house. she closed the door behind her. what to do next? but geoffrey was not long in doubt. ralph was standing by his side, a dark lantern in his hand. "where did she go?" he whispered. "you heard her, then?" asked geoffrey. "of course, i heard everything. i see with my ears. naturally you guessed who she was. but what room did she go into?" "my grandfather's." "so i expected. but she means to visit all the rooms in turn. you need not be afraid, she will be there for some minutes. what do you see outside?" geoffrey made a close examination with the lantern. "i see a tangle of small wires on the floor," he said. "they come up from the vaults." "where they are attached to a queer-looking instrument?" "yes, yes. i see you know all about it. one of the wires runs under the door into the room where mrs. may is engaged." "and where she will be engaged for some time," said ralph. "move that book ladder and look over the fanlight." there were books on high shelves in the corridor, and a light librarian's ladder close at hand. geoffrey propped this against the door and looked in through the open fanlight. all the bed-room doors had fanlights at ravenspur. the lantern inside was on the dressing-table and, standing on a chair by a fireplace, was mrs. may. she had pinned the thin wire to the wall cunningly, and had turned the end of it into a plate that stood on the mantel shelf. from a flask she poured a little white powder into the plate. this done she seemed to be satisfied. geoffrey whipped the ladder away and the woman emerged from the room. once more she went along the corridor with firm, resolute step, and the air of one who knows what she is doing and has a definite object in view. from one bed-room to another she went, leaving a wire in each until every room occupied by one of the ravenspur family had been visited. geoffrey's room was the last. when she had finished here she took up a pair of scissors and tapped the wire. outside the door geoffrey and ralph could hear the noise distinctly. ralph's jaws came together with a click. "the key is outside your room door," he whispered. "turn it." geoffrey wondered, but he hastened to comply. the key turned with an ease and silence that testified to the fact of its having been carefully oiled. "what does it all mean?" geoffrey whispered. "she is going to test her machinery," said ralph with a chuckle. "and she is going one step farther to her own destruction. listen." again came the faint tap, and then down from far below the purring jar of electrical apparatus in motion. there was silence inside the room for a moment and then geoffrey saw the handle turn. it was turned softly at first, then more quickly, and finally it was tugged as an angry child snatches at a toy. ralph chuckled. the diabolical mirth seemed to come deep from his throat. "she is trying to get out," geoffrey whispered. "of course she is," ralph replied. "but not quite yet." the lock was rattling loudly by this time; there was a half-angry, half-frightened muttering from within. and then there came a long, piercing, wailing scream, as of a woman in the last agony before death. geoffrey would have started back, but ralph restrained him. "no, no," he whispered violently. "it is all right; everything is turning out splendidly." "but she is a woman and in deadly peril, uncle." "i know it, lad. five minutes more and that fiend will be beyond further mischief. she has been trying the effect of her infernal contrivance and will be hoist with her own petard. she is scared to death. she imagines she has fastened herself in and can't get out." "but this is murder," geoffrey cried. "i dare say some people would call it so," ralph replied coolly. "as a matter of fact, there never could be homicide more justifiable than to let that woman perish there. still, we are not going to do anything of the kind. when those cries cease, and you hear yonder wretch fall to the ground, then open the door and drag her out." the cries were coming wildly from behind the door; there was a hammering on the panels. the cries rang through the house, they reached the asiatics in the vaults and the latter fled in terror into the night. something had happened, but what it was they did not care. they had only themselves to think of. in spite of his strong nerves, geoffrey shuddered. it was horrible to be alone in that grim house of tears, waiting in the darkness, opposed by grim horrors and, above all, to have that note of agony ringing in his ears. would it never stop? would the time to act never come? geoffrey would have interfered in spite of everything but for the fact that ralph was gripping his shoulder in a grasp that at any other time would have been painful. suddenly the noise ceased. there was a moan and the soft, crushing fall of a body. ralph's face blazed up instantly. "now," he cried, "there is no time to be lost." geoffrey darted forward. he had the door opened in an instant. mrs. may lay still and white on the floor. the atmosphere of the room seemed to have vanished. it was intolerable to breathe there; air there was none. as the door fell back the room filled as with a sudden strong draught. geoffrey dragged the unconscious figure into the corridor. "will she die?" he gasped. "no, she will not die," ralph said coolly. "had i intended her to die i should not have allowed you to open the door. pick her up and throw her on one of the beds in a spare room. she will require no attention, but she will not attain consciousness for some hours. and, after that, she will be useless for a day or two. you need not worry; our scheme is working out splendidly. pick her up." ralph indicated the still figure with brutal indifference. he would have shown more consideration to a sick dog. geoffrey complied, and presently made the woman as comfortable as circumstances allowed. geoffrey had hardly done so before there was a light footfall in the corridor, and tchigorsky appeared, still in disguise. "i gather that things are well," he said. "just now i met that she-devil's accomplices fleeing as if the father of lies was behind them. she was trapped, eh?" ralph nodded and chuckled. "in geoffrey's room," he explained. "when she was testing her apparatus i had the key turned on her. and she could not get out. i let her remain there as long as i considered it safe to do so, and her yells must have alarmed her confederates. probably they have fled, leaving things intact." "probably," said tchigorsky. "i will go and see." he was back again presently, a pleased expression on his face. "nothing has been touched," he said. "i have removed the wires, in case of danger. we have the lady more or less under our thumb." "what was she doing?" geoffrey asked. "it is an appliance for exhausting air," tchigorsky explained. "you take a powder and place it on a hot plate. directly it begins to burn it draws up all the air. the thing has been known in the east for thousands of years. mrs. may applied electricity to give her greater scope. a plate of the powder was to be heated in the room of everybody in the castle when asleep. "a few minutes and the thing is done. then the wires are withdrawn and gradually the different rooms fill with air again. the burnt powder leaves no trace. then you are all found dead in your beds and nobody knows how it is done. the wires are easily drawn back to the battery and the whole thing is destroyed." geoffrey shuddered. "what a fiend!" chapter xlvi nearing the end it was some time before any one spoke. geoffrey was turning the whole matter over in his mind. he was still puzzled. "i don't understand it," he said. "of course, i follow all you say, and i see the nature of the plot intended to end us all at one fell swoop. but why do you want to have that woman under the roof?" "because so long as she is under the roof she is comparatively harmless," tchigorsky explained. "the princess is hot and vengeful and passionate, but she has her vein of caution and will take no unnecessary risks. she will be bewildered and will not know whether she had been suspected or not. the more cordial to her you are the more suspicious she will be. of course, she will make up some plausible tale to account for her intrusion, and, of course, you must pretend to believe it. it will be impossible to move her for a day or two, and here i come in." "in what way?" geoffrey asked. "in the way of having a free hand," tchigorsky said, with a smile. "the princess will be cut off from her allies, and i shall be able to ransack her private papers for one thing." geoffrey nodded. he began to see the force of tchigorsky's clever scheme. and then the cold solitude of the house struck him. for a moment he had forgotten all about the family still on the beach and the agony they were suffering on his account. "i suppose you can do no more to-night?" he asked. "i am not so sure of that," tchigorsky said dryly. "meanwhile i can safely rest for an hour or so. i am going to lie hidden in ralph's bedroom for the present and smoke his tobacco. do you want anything?" "i should like to relieve the minds of my friends," said geoffrey. "that of course," tchigorsky responded. "go at once. you were picked up by a passing boat--or yacht--that landed you at manby. you walked back and when you got home to change your clothes you found the place deserted. don't say anything as to mrs. may. your uncle ralph will have that story to tell when you return. you are not to know anything about mrs. may." "all right," geoffrey said cheerfully. "now i'll be off." he made his way down the cliffs unseen. there were lanterns flitting about the shore; he could see the flash of marion's white dress and vera by her side. he came gently alongside them. "vera," he said. "what is all this about?" vera turned and gave a cry. she was acting her part as well as possible, and the cry seemed genuine. but the tears in her eyes were tears of thankfulness that the sufferings of those dear to her were ended. she clung to her lover; her lips pressed his. marion stood there white and still as a statue. the girl seemed to be frozen. geoffrey's touch thawed her into life again. "geoffrey!" she screamed, "geoffrey! thank god, thank god! never again will i----" with another scream that rang high and clear, the girl fell unconscious at his feet. he raised her up tenderly as the others came rushing forward. there was a babel of confused cries, hoarse cheers, and yells of delight. the villagers were running wild along the sands. scores of men pressed eagerly round to shake geoffrey's hand. "i was picked up by a yacht," he said. "of course i know there was foul play. i know all about the broken mast and the sawn oars. you may rest assured i will take more care another time. and i was----" geoffrey was going to say that he had been warned, but he checked himself in time. his progress toward home was more or less a royal one. it touched him to see how glad people were. he had not imagined a popularity like this. vera clung fondly to his arm; rupert ravenspur walked proudly on the other side. not once had the old man showed the slightest sign of breaking down, but he came perilously near to it at the present time. marion held to him trembling. she felt it almost impossible to drag herself along. "you are quaking from head to foot," said ravenspur. "i am," marion admitted. "and at the risk of increasing your displeasure i should say you are very little better, dear grandfather. i fear the shock of seeing geoffrey after all this fearful suspense has been too much for you." ravenspur admitted the fact. he was glad to find himself at home again, glad to be rid of the rocking, cheering crowd outside, and glad to see geoffrey opposite him. marion, pale as death, had dropped into a chair. "i am going to give you all some wine," said geoffrey. "you need it. please do not let us discuss my adventure any more. let us drop the subject." ralph glided in, feeling his way into the room. he congratulated geoffrey as coolly as he would have done in the most trite circumstances. he was acting his part in his own wooden, stupid way. "i also have had my adventures," he croaked. "i hope the castle is all right," ravenspur observed. "the same idea occurred to me," ralph went on. "one so afflicted as myself could not be of much service on the beach, so i came back to the castle. it occurred to me as possible that our enemy would take advantage of the place being deserted. so i passed the time wandering about the corridors. "a little time ago i heard a violent commotion and screaming outside geoffrey's room. i got to the spot as soon as possible, but when i arrived the noise had ceased. then i stumbled over the body of a woman." "woman?" ravenspur cried. "impossible!" "not in the least," ralph said coolly. "i picked her up, she was unconscious. my medical knowledge, picked up in all parts of the world, told me that the woman was suffering from some physical shock. that she was not in any danger her steady pulse showed. i placed her on the bed in the blue room." "and there she is now?" marion exclaimed. "so far as i know," ralph replied. "what she was doing here i haven't the slightest idea." "and you don't know who she is?" mrs. gordon asked. "how should i? i am blind. i should say that the woman was up to no good here; but i dare say it is possible that she has some decent excuse. on the other hand, she might be one of our deadly foes. anyway, there she is, and there she is likely to be for some time to come." marion rose to her feet. "uncle ralph," she said, "i feel that i could shake you. have you no feeling?" "we can't all have your tender heart," ralph said meekly. marion ignored the compliment. she took up the decanter and poured out a glass of wine. "i am going upstairs at once," she said. "enemy or no enemy, the poor creature cannot be neglected. you need not come, vera." vera, too, had risen to her feet. she was not going to be put aside. "but i am coming," she said. "i will not allow you to go up those stairs alone. and geoffrey shall accompany us." marion said no more. she seemed strangely anxious and restless. geoffrey followed with a lamp in his hands. mrs. may lay quietly there, breathing regularly and apparently in a deep sleep. marion bent over the bed. as she did so she gasped and the color left her face. she fell away with a cry like fear. "oh," she shuddered. "oh, it is mrs. may!" vera bent over the bed. she unfastened the dress at the throat. "what does it matter?" she said. "i know you don't like the woman, but she is suffering. marion, where are your tender feelings?" marion said nothing. but she came directly to vera's side. and geoffrey glancing at marion's rigid white face wondered what it all meant. chapter xlvii tchigorsky further explains "i don't quite follow it yet," said geoffrey. "and yet it is simple," tchigorsky replied. "here is a form of electric battery in the vault connected by tiny wires to every sleeping chamber occupied by a ravenspur. in each of these bed-rooms a powder is deposited somewhere and the wire leads to it. at a certain time, when you are all asleep, the current is switched on, the powder destroyed without leaving the slightest trace, and in the morning you are all as dead as if you had been placed in a lethal chamber--as a matter of fact, they would have been lethal chambers. "almost directly, by means of the chimneys, etc., the rooms would begin to draw a fresh supply of air, and by the time you were discovered everything would be normal again. then the battery would be removed and the wires withdrawn without even the trouble of entering the rooms to fetch them. then exit the whole family of ravenspur, leaving behind a greater mystery than ever. now do you understand what it all means?" geoffrey nodded and shuddered. "what do you propose to do?" he asked. "leave the battery where it is, and----" "unless i am mistaken, the battery is removed already," said the russian. he was correct. investigation proved that the whole thing had been spirited away. "as i expected," tchigorsky muttered. "done from the vaults under the sea, doubtless. that woman's servants keep very close to her. it is wonderful how they manage to slip about without being seen. they have ascertained that an accident has happened to their mistress, and they have removed signs of the conspiracy. but for the present they cannot remove their mistress." tchigorsky chuckled as he spoke. "you seem pleased over that," said geoffrey. "of course i am, my boy. it enables one to do a little burglary without the chance of being found out. and you are to assist me. but i am not going to start on my errand before midnight; so till then i shall stay here and smoke. at that hour you will please join me." "i am to accompany you, then?" "yes, you are going to be my confederate in crime." geoffrey joined the others downstairs. delight and thankfulness were written on every face. never had geoffrey found his family so tender and loving. usually, marion had had her feelings under control, but to-night it seemed as if she could not make enough of her cousin. she hung over him, she lingered near him, until vera laughingly proclaimed that jealousy was rendering her desperate. "i cannot help it," marion said half tearfully. "i am so glad. and if you only knew--but that does not matter. i am beside myself with joy." "i suppose that woman upstairs is all right," ravenspur said coldly. he was by no means pleased that mrs. may should have intruded twice in that way. and each time there had been some accident. with so much sorrow weighing him down and with the shadow of further disaster ever haunting him, ravenspur was naturally suspicious. it seemed absurd, no doubt, but that woman might be taking a hand against the family fortunes. the last occasion was bad enough, but this was many times worse. in the circumstances, as he pointed out, nothing could exceed the bad taste of this intrusion into a deserted house. "she may not have known it," mrs. gordon said quietly. "who knows but that she had discovered some plot against us and had come to warn us? perhaps the enemy divined her intentions--hence the accident." "but was it an accident?" geoffrey asked. "something mysterious, like everything that occurs to us," his wife replied. "at any rate, she is breathing regularly and quietly now, and her skin is moist and cool. ralph said he had seen something like it in india before. he is convinced that she will be all right in the morning. don't be angry, father." rupert ravenspur constrained himself to smile. "i will not forget what is due to my position and my hospitality, my dear," he said. "after geoffrey's miraculous escape, after the heavy cloud of sorrow so unexpectedly raised, i cannot feel it in my heart to be angry with anybody. how did you manage to get away, geoffrey?" geoffrey told his tale again. it was not nice to be compelled to invent facts in the face of an admiring family; but then the truth could not have been told without betraying tchigorsky and blowing all his delicate schemes to the winds. he was not sorry when he had finished. marion wiped the tears from her eyes. "it was providence," she said. "nothing more nor less." "little doubt of it," gordon murmured. "geoff, have you any suspicions?" "i know who did it, if that is what you mean," geoffrey said, "and so does marion." the girl started. her nerves were in such a pitiable condition that any little thing set them vibrating like the strings of a rudely handled harp. "if i did i should have spoken," she said. "then you have not guessed?" geoffrey smiled. "the masts and the sculls were sawn by a girl in a blue dress and red tam-o'-shanter cap. the girl who is so like----" he did not complete the sentence; there was something in marion's speaking eyes that asked him not to do so. why he could not tell; but there was nothing to be gained by what was little less than a breach of confidence. "what does it mean, marion?" ravenspur asked. "geoffrey and i saw such a girl not long before geoff set out on his eventful voyage," marion explained quietly. all the fear had gone out of her eyes; she met the gaze of the speaker tranquilly. "she passed me as i was painting; i have been close to her once before. but i don't understand why geoff is so certain that the mysterious visitor tried to drown him." "i've no proof," geoffrey replied. "it is merely an instinct." as a matter of fact, he had plenty of proof. had he not seen the girl hastening away from his boat? had he not seen her return after the boat had been beached and mourn over the wreck like some creature suffering from deep remorse? but of this he could say nothing. to speak of it would be to betray the fact that tchigorsky was still alive and active in pursuit of the foe. "that woman can be found," ravenspur said sternly. "i doubt it," said geoffrey. "she has a way of disappearing that is remarkable. you see her one moment and the next she has vanished. but i am certain that she is at the bottom of the mischief." and geoffrey refused to say more. as a matter of fact, nobody seemed to care to hear anything further. they were worn out with anxiety and exertion. they had had little food that day; the weary hours on the beach had exhausted them. "for the present we can rest and be thankful," ravenspur said as he rose to go. "we can sleep with easy minds to-night." they moved off after him, all but geoffrey and vera. mrs. gordon could still be heard moving about one of the drawing rooms. marion had slipped off unobserved. she hardly felt equal to bidding geoffrey good-night. the tender smile was still on her face as she crept upstairs. then when she reached her room it faded away. she flung herself across the bed and burst into a passionate fit of weeping. and then gradually she sobbed herself into a heavy yet uneasy slumber. "well, i suppose i must go, too?" vera said, tired out, yet reluctant to leave her lover. "tell me what it means, geoff?" "have i not already explained to you, darling?" "yes, but i don't believe one word of it," vera replied. a kiss sufficed to wash the bitterness of the candor away. "i don't believe you were picked up by a yacht. i don't believe that you were in any danger. i don't understand it." "then we are both in the same state of benighted ignorance," geoffrey smiled. "you are right not to believe me, dearest, but i had to tell the story and i had to play a part. it is all in the desperate game we are playing against our secret foe. for the present i am a puppet in the hands of abler men than myself. what i am doing will go far to set us free later." vera sighed gently. she sidled closer to her lover. mrs. gordon was coming out of the drawing room, a sign that vera would have to go. "i feel that i don't want to part with you again," she whispered, her eyes looking into his and her arm about him. "i feel as if i had nearly lost you. and if i did lose you, darling, what would become of me?" geoffrey kissed the quivering lips tenderly. "have no fear, sweetheart," he said; "all is coming right. see how those people have been frustrated over and over again. they have come with schemes worthy of satan himself and yet they have failed. and it has been so arranged that those failures seem to be the result of vexatious accident. but they are not. and they will fail again and again until the net is around them and we shall be free. darling, you are to sleep in peace to-night." with a last fond embrace vera slipped from her lover's side. she smiled at him brightly from the doorway and was gone. geoffrey lighted a cigarette that presently dropped from his fingers and his head fell forward. he started suddenly; the cigarette smelt pungently as it singed the carpet. somebody was whispering his name; somebody was calling him from the stairs. then he recognized ralph's croaking voice. "tchigorsky," he muttered sleepily. "i had forgotten that tchigorsky wanted me." chapter xlviii more from the past tchigorsky was waiting. the room was pregnant with the perfume of turkish cigarettes and coffee. ralph handed a cup to his nephew. "drink that," he said. "you want something to keep you awake." geoffrey accepted the coffee gratefully. it had the desired effect. he felt the clouds lifting from his brain and the drowsy heaviness of limb leaving him. "are you coming with us?" he asked. ralph shook his head. there was a strange gleam on his face. "i stay here," he said. "you are going to be busy, but i also have much to do. don't be concerned for me. blind as i am, i am capable of taking care of myself. i shall have a deal to tell you in the morning." a minute or two later and the two conspirators slipped away. it struck geoffrey as strange that they should not leave the house in the usual way; but tchigorsky grimly explained that he much preferred using the ivy outside ralph's window. "always be on the safe side," tchigorsky muttered. "come along." geoffrey followed. where tchigorsky could go he felt competent to follow. they reached the ground in safety and later were in the road. the moon had gone and it was intensely dark, but geoffrey knew the way perfectly. "straight to jessop's farm?" he asked. "as far as the lawn," tchigorsky replied. "it will be a good hour yet before we can venture to carry out our burglary. i can run no risks until i know that those two asiatics are out of the way. what time is it?" "about ten minutes to twelve." tchigorsky muttered that the time was not quite suitable for him. he drew a watch from his pocket; there was a stifled whirr of machinery, and the repeater's rapid pulse beat twelve with the silvery chime of a quarter after the hour. "you are wrong," he said. "you see it is between a quarter and half-past twelve. we will lie on jessop's lawn till one o'clock and then all will be safe." they lay there waiting for the time to pass. the minutes seemed to be weighted. "tell me some more of your lassa adventures," geoffrey asked. "very well," tchigorsky replied. "where did i leave off? ah, we had just been tortured on that awful grill. and we had been offered our lives on condition that we consented to be hopeless idiots for the rest of our days. "well, we were not going to live in these circumstances, you may be sure. for the next few days we were left to our own resources in a dark dungeon with the huge rats and vermin for company. we were half starved into the bargain, and when we were brought into the light once more they naturally expected submission. "but they didn't get it. they did not realize the stuff we were made of. and they had no idea we were armed. we had our revolvers and concealed in our pockets were some fifty rounds of ammunition. if the worst came to the worst we should not die without a struggle. "well, there was a huge palaver over us before the priests in the big temple, with zara on her throne, and a fine, impressive scene it was, or, at least, it would have been had we not been so interested as to our own immediate future. at any rate, it was a comfort to know that there were no more tortures for the present, for nothing of the kind was to be seen. we were going to die; we could read our sentence in the eyes of the priests long before the elaborate mummery was over. "i tell you it seemed hard to perish like that just at the time when we had penetrated nearly all the secrets we had come in search of. and it was no less hard to know that if the princess had postponed her visit another week she would have been too late. by that time we should have left lassa far behind. "the trial or ceremony, or whatever you like to call it, came to an end at length, and then we were brought up to the throne of the princess. you know the woman, you have looked upon the beauty and fascination of her face; but you have no idea how different she was in the home of her people. she looked a real queen, a queen from head to foot. we stood awed before her. "'you have been offered terms and refused them,' she said. 'it is now too late.' "'we could not trust you,' i replied boldly; we had nothing to gain by politeness. 'better anything than the living death you offered us. and we can only die once.' "the princess smiled in her blood-curdling way. "'you do not know what you are talking about,' she said. 'ah, you will find out when you come to walk the black valley!' "she gave a sign and we were led away unbound. a quaint wailing music filled the air; the priests were singing our funeral song. i never fully appreciated the refined cruelty of reading the burial service to a criminal on his way to the scaffold till then. it makes me shudder to think of it even now. "they led us out into the open air, still crooning that dirge. they brought us at length to the head of a great valley between huge towering mountains, as if the alps had been sliced in two and a narrow passage made between them. at the head of this passage was a door let into the cliff and down through this door they thrust us. it was dark inside. for the first part of the way, till we reached the floor of the valley, we were to be accompanied by four priests, a delicate attention to prevent us from breaking our necks before we reached the bottom. but our guides did not mean us to perish so mercifully. "'listen to me,' zara cried, 'listen for the last time. you are going into the black valley; of its horror and dangers you know nothing as yet. but you will soon learn. take comfort in the fact that there is an exit at the far end if you can find it. when you are out of the exit you are free. thousands have walked this valley, and over their dry bones you will make your way. out of these thousands one man escaped. perhaps you will be as fortunate. farewell!' "the door clanged behind us, and we were alone with the priests. we could not see, we could only feel our way down those awful cliffs, where one false step would have smashed us to pieces. but the priests never hesitated. down, down we went until we reached the bottom. there we could just see dimly. "'you could guide us through?' i asked. "one of the priests nodded. he could save us if he liked. not that i was going to waste my breath by asking him. they were priests of a minor degree; there were thousands of them about the temple, all alike as peas in a pod. if these men failed to return they would never be missed. a desperate resolution came to me. in a few english whispered words i conveyed it to ralph ravenspur. "we still had a priest on either side of us. at a given signal we produced our revolvers, and before the priests had the remotest idea what had happened two of them were dead on the ground, shot through the brain. when the thousand and one echoes died away we each had our man by the throat. what did we care if the plot was discovered or not! we were both desperate. "'listen, dog,' i cried. 'you have seen your companions perish. if you would escape a similar death, you will bear us to safety. you shall walk ten paces in front, and if you try to evade us you die, for our weapons carry farther than you can run in the space of two minutes. well, are you going to convey us to a place of safety, or shall we shoot you like the others?'" tchigorsky paused and pulled at his watch. he drew back the catch and the rapid little pulse beat one. then he rose to his feet. "to be continued in our next," he said. "the time has come to act. follow me and betray no surprise at anything you may see or hear." "you can rely upon me," geoffrey whispered. "lead on." chapter xlix ralph takes charge the troubled house had fallen asleep at last. they were all used to the swooping horrors; they could recall the black times spread out over the weary years; they could vividly recollect how one trouble after another had happened. and it had been an eventful day. for the last few hours they had lived a fresh tragedy. true, the tragedy itself had been averted, but for some time there had been the agony of the real thing. the ravenspurs, exhausted by the flood of emotion, had been glad of rest. they were presumably asleep now, all but ralph. long after deep silence had fallen on the house he sat alone in the darkness. the glow of his pipe just touched his inscrutable features and a faint halo of light played about his grizzled head. a mouse nibbling behind the panels sounded clear as the crack of a pistol shot. the big stable clock boomed two. ralph laid aside his pipe and crept to the door. he opened it silently and passed out into the corridor. a cat would not have made less noise. yet he moved swiftly and confidently, as one who has eyes to see familiar ground. he came at length to the room where mrs. may was lying. she had been made fairly comfortable. her dress had been loosened at the throat, but she still wore the clothes in which she had been dressed at the time of her accident. later she would perhaps find it difficult to account for masquerading in the castle in that strange guise. that she would have some ingenious plea to put forward ralph felt certain. but the dress was another matter. ralph grinned to himself as he thought of it. there was a light in the room. he could tell that by the saffron glow that touched lightly on his sightless eyeballs. he knew the disposition of the room as well as if he could see it. he felt his way across until he came to the bed on which the woman lay. his hand touched her throat--a gentle touch--yet his fingers crooked and a murderous desire blossomed like a rose in his heart. nobody was about and nobody would know. who could connect the poor blind man with the deed? why not end her life now? "far better," ralph muttered. "it would have been no crime to shoot her like a dog. yet fancy hanging for such a creature as that!" the grim humor of the suggestion restored ralph to himself. his relaxed fingers just touched the cold throat and face. he could hear the sound of regular breathing. from a tiny phial he took two or three drops of some dark cordial and brushed them over the woman's rigid lips. she stirred faintly. "just as well to hasten events," he muttered. "one cannot afford to play with the thing." he replaced the bottle in his pocket. he drew himself up listening. other ears could not have heard a sound. ralph could plainly hear footsteps. but how near they were he could not tell. his brows contracted with annoyance. "so soon," he muttered. "i did not expect this." he dropped down between the bed and the wall. then he crawled under the deep valance. he had not long to wait. somebody had crept into the room, somebody light of foot and light of body who crossed to the bed. and this somebody shook the sleeping figure with passionate force. "wake up!" a voice said. "oh, will you never wake up?" the listener smiled. he could hear the figure of his arch-enemy stirring uneasily. she muttered something and once more was passionately shaken. "what is the matter?" she muttered. "where am i?" "here, in the castle. don't you remember?" pause for a moment. ralph was listening intently. "i begin to recollect. there was an accident; the door refused to open; i fought for my life as long as i could before the fumes overcame me, and i gave myself up for lost. oh, it was something to remember, marion," muttered mrs. may. marion, for it was she, made no reply. she was crying quietly. "what is the matter with the girl?" the woman asked irritably. "oh, it is good for you to ask me that question," said marion, "after all the bitter trouble and humiliation you have put upon me. get up and follow me." "i cannot. the thing is impossible. you forget that i have been almost dead. my limbs are paralyzed. i shall not be able to walk for at least two days. i must remain like a dog here. but there is no hurry. what happened?" "i can't tell; i don't know. you were found in the corridor, i am told, insensible. when they came back to the castle they found you lying here. they had all been down on the beach searching for geoffrey." the woman laughed. it was a laugh to chill the blood. "i hope they found him," she said. "oh, yes, they found him," marion said quietly. "drowned, with a placid smile on his face, after the fashion of the novel?" "no, very much alive. you failed. geoffrey ravenspur is here safe and sound. on my knees i have thanked god for it." the woman muttered something that the listener failed to catch. she seemed to be suppressing a tendency to a violent outburst. "i will not fail next time," she said. "and you are a love-sick, soft-hearted, sentimental fool. all this time i have to remain here. but, at any rate, i have you to do my bidding. put your hand in my breast pocket and you will find a key." "well, what am i to do with it?" "you are to go to my rooms at jessop's farm at once. they will be fast asleep, so that you need not be afraid. jessop's people have the slumber that comes of a tired body and an easy conscience. but there are foes about and it is not well to trust to anybody. "if i am to remain here for a day or two i must have certain things. in my sitting room, by the side of the fireplace, is a black iron box. open it with the key i have given you and bring the casket to me. you can get into my sitting room by gently raising the window, which is not fastened. they are so honest in these parts that people don't fasten their windows. now go." "you are sure you cannot get up?" "certain. i have been drugged and it will be some time before i am able to get about. that is why i am anxious to have the box. young ravenspur would never have got away had he had no friends to assist him or a simple fool to give him warning." "the fool you speak of does not regret it." "perhaps not. how did he escape?" "in the simplest possible way. he was picked up by a passing yacht." "well, accidents will happen," the woman muttered. "now do my bidding. the heavy drugged sleep is coming upon me again, and i shall not be able to keep my eyes open much longer. go at once." as marion crept away ralph could catch her heavy indrawn breath and the sobs that seemed to burst from her overcharged heart. then he knew that the woman was asleep again. a minute or two later and he was standing in the hall. he waited in shadow, silent and patient. the stairs creaked slightly and a stealthy footstep came creeping down. chapter l a kind uncle ralph crept toward the door. marion came close to him, her hands fumbling nervously with the bolts and bars. some of the bars were heavy, and marion was fearful lest they should fall with a clang and betray her. ralph stretched out his hand and drew back a bolt. "allow me to assist you," he said. "i am used to this kind of work." a scream rose to marion's lips, but she suppressed it. the effort set her trembling from head to foot. yet it seemed to her that there was no cause to be frightened, for she had never heard ralph's voice so kind before. "uncle," she stammered, "what are you doing here?" by way of reply ralph opened the door. he gave the sign for marion to precede him, and then followed her out into the night. the heavy door closed behind him. "i might with equal justice ask you the same question," he said. "nay, more; because you are merely a young girl and i am a man. and you know i don't sleep like most virtuous people. i suffer from insomnia and never sleep for long anywhere. perhaps i am like the cat who prowls about all night and slumbers in the daytime. but where are you going?" "uncle ralph, i cannot tell you. it is a secret. if you knew everything you would pity me." there was a deepening ring in marion's voice. ralph caressed her hand tenderly. "don't trouble," he said. "i know." "you know where i am going. you--you know!" "certainly i do. i know everything, my dear." "not everything, uncle. not of my connection with that woman, for instance." "indeed i do, marion." "you are aware of our relationship! you know that!" "my dear child, i have known it for years. but your secret is safe with me. i am not going to betray you. could i have the heart to do so after all you have done for my family? angel marion." he repeated the last words over and over again in a low, caressing voice, pressing the girl's hand softly as he did so. even then marion was not sure whether he was in earnest or whether he was grimly ironical. "i never thought of this," marion murmured. "perhaps not," ralph replied. "mrs. may is a bad woman, marion." "the worst in the world," marion replied. "you only know her as mrs. may?" "i only know her as she is, dear. and yet i feel that in some vague kind of way she is mixed up with our family misfortunes. oh, if i could only see, if i could only use my eyes. then i might know that woman still better." marion shuddered at the steely, murderous tones. ralph patted her hand reassuringly. "but you need not be afraid," he said. "you are all right--the brightest angel in the world. you are torn by conflicting emotions; you fancy your duty lies in certain directions, and you are troubled over it. and yet it will come right in the end, marion. we did not lose geoffrey after all." "thank god, no. and yet there is plenty of time." "there is ample time for the right as well as the wrong, marion. but do not let us talk of the past any more, my dear. i am not going to pry into your secrets, and i know how far to trust you. let me walk part of the way with you. i can wait by the barn till you return." marion raised no objection. it was the dead of night now and there was no fear of meeting anybody. yet marion started uneasily as ralph began to whistle. she ventured to suggest that the noise was not prudent. "perhaps you are right," ralph said amicably. "at any rate i will wait here till your return. you have not far to go, of course?" "i have a very little way to go, uncle. i am going to jessop's farm." ralph nodded. the farm loomed up not far off. as marion darted off ralph lighted his pipe and whistled again. something moved in the bushes. * * * * * meanwhile tchigorsky and geoffrey were nearing the window. tchigorsky moved on resolutely and confidently with the air of a man who is sure of his ground. he put up his hand and fumbled for the catch. it gave at once and the pair of burglars slipped quietly into the room. "we shall be safe," he said as he proceeded to strike a match. "it is just as well to take every precaution. what would the estimable jessop say if he could see into his parlor?" geoffrey smiled. "he'd be astonished," he said, "a little dismayed, too. but he would say nothing so long as i am here. jessop would stand on his head for me." the strong rays of the lamp lighted up the room. there were flowers everywhere, dainty china on the table full of blooms, bowls filled with choicest fruits. wines sparkled in the crystal goblets on the sideboard, a silver cigarette box was conspicuous, and on a safe lay an object to which tchigorsky called his companion's attention. "what do you make that out to be?" he asked. geoffrey picked up the drapery. on the top of it lay something red with a feather in it. it appeared to be a costume of some kind. as geoffrey held it aloft a light gradually broke in upon him. "well," tchigorsky asked, "have you solved the problem?" "i have," geoffrey replied. "it is the blue dress and tam-o'-shanter hat which have played so conspicuous a part lately. but what brings them here? has mrs. may a companion hidden somewhere, a companion who might be marion's sister?" "seems like it," tchigorsky said with a dry smile. "but i am not going to enlighten you any further on that question at present. mrs. may and the girl in the blue dress are two separate people, anyway." "you forget that i have seen them together," said geoffrey. "i had forgotten that. well, it won't be long now before the identity of the lady in the smart dress and coquettish hat is established. meanwhile we came here in search of something far more important than a woman's costume. help me to turn out all those drawers, and be careful to replace everything exactly as you find it. we have a good three hours before us and much depends upon the result of our search. keep a keen eye open for papers in any language that is unfamiliar to you." for an hour the search proceeded and yet nothing came to light. there were plenty of bills, most of them emanating from west end establishments--accounts for dresses and flowers, boxes for theaters, and the like, but nothing more. tchigorsky glanced keenly round the room. "i am afraid we shall be compelled to show our hand," he said. "mrs. may is so clever that i half expected to find private papers in some simple place, while an examination of her safe would disclose nothing. she has not anticipated burglary and what i am looking for is in the safe." "dare you open it?" geoffrey asked. "and show my hand, you mean? i fancy so. we are so near success now that it really does not matter. put the safe on the table," replied tchigorsky. the heavy iron box slipped as geoffrey raised it and clanged on the floor. an exclamation of anger and annoyance came from tchigorsky and an apology from the younger man. they both stood upright for a few minutes listening intently. but the people upstairs were sleeping the sleep of the just. there came no answering sound. "blessings upon the pure air and the high conscience that hold these people," tchigorsky muttered more amicably. "it's all right, my young friend. hoist up the box, and let us see if my little steel jimmy will have any effect. i would rather have had the key. it is never well to betray your plans if you can----" the speaker paused. from outside a little way off there arose a long, shrill scream, the cry of a woman in distress. the sound set geoffrey's blood leaping; he pushed for the window, but tchigorsky detained him. "where are you going?" he asked sternly. "outside," geoffrey exclaimed. "a woman is there. she asks for assistance. can you stand there calmly and see----" "see you making an ass of yourself, eh? my dear boy, on my word of honor there is no woman in danger yonder. in a measure i am glad to hear that cry, though it proves to me that our allies have not been so artistic over their work as they might have been. you will not hear that cry again." "perhaps not," geoffrey said, reassured considerably by tchigorsky's placid manner; "but i hear footsteps outside." tchigorsky smiled. he had taken some steel bits from his pocket, but he replaced them again. "if they are, then they are the footsteps of a friend," he said. "this being so, there will be no need for me to give you lessons in the way not to open a safe. are you right? it seems as if the window was opening." the window was indeed opening. it moved half an inch, and then there was a "hist," and something clanged on the floor. tchigorsky took the matter as coolly as if it had all been arranged beforehand. he did not move as the window closed again and stealthy footsteps outside moved away. "it is all right?" geoffrey asked. tchigorsky smiled broadly. "splendid!" he said. "it could not have been better. my boy, this is the night's work which is going to crown our endeavors. yonder we have the proofs, and here we have the means of getting them." he picked the metallic object from the floor. he fitted it to the lock of the safe, and instantly a mass of queer things was discovered. tchigorsky's eyes gleamed as he saw this; they positively flamed as he turned out a lot of papers. at the bottom was a book in metal covers. as tchigorsky fluttered it open a cry broke from him. "found!" he exclaimed, "found! we have them in the hollow of our hands." chapter li "what does this mean?" with less courage than she usually felt, marion went on her way. perhaps there was no more miserable being in england at that moment. it is hard to play a double part, hard to be thrust one way by cruel circumstances when the heart and soul are crying out to go the other. this was marion's position. and whichever way she went she was destined to be equally unhappy and miserable. she had to help her relations; she had to try to shield that infamous woman at the same time. and now the great secret of her life had come to light. that was the bitterest trial of all. vera had discovered that marion loved geoffrey. ralph ravenspur had made the same discovery long ago, but it did not matter so very much about him; vera was different. and here she was in the dead of night carrying out the errand of the deadliest foe the house of ravenspur had ever known. she was half inclined to throw the whole thing to the winds, to disappear and never return again. why should she---- she stopped. something was stirring in the bushes on either side of her. perhaps it was a rabbit or a fox. probably somebody had dogged her footsteps. "who are you?" marion cried. "speak, or i call for help." the threat was futile, considering the time of night. the bushes parted and two men appeared. marion gave one loud scream, but before she could repeat the cry a hand was laid on her lips. whoever they were, they were not unduly rough. the hand that stayed further clamor was hard, but it was not cruel. "you are not to cry out again," a voice whispered. "i will not injure you if you promise not to call out." marion indicated that she would comply with this suggestion. immediately the hand fell from her lips. "this is an outrage," she said. "who are you?" "that is beside the point," was the reply. "it is an outrage, but we are not going to treat you badly. we are unfortunately compelled to keep you for some four-and-twenty hours from the custody of your friends, but you may rest assured that you will be treated with every consideration." "i am your prisoner, then?" "since you like to put it in that way, yes." marion was properly indignant. she pointed out that the course these men were pursuing was a criminal one, and that it was likely to lead them into trouble. but she might have been speaking to the winds. if she could only see these people! she had not the remotest idea what they were like. the man who spoke was evidently a gentleman; his companion seemed like a working man--a sailor by his walk. and yet it was impossible to see the faces of either. "where are you going to take me?" marion asked. "we are going to conduct you to one of the caves," was the reply. "unfortunately no house is available for our purpose, or we should not put you to this inconvenience. but we have made every preparation for your comfort, and you are not likely to suffer for want of food or anything of that kind. and i pledge you my word of honor that you shall not be detained a minute beyond the specified time." he touched marion on the arm to indicate a forward movement. "i suppose it is of no use to ask your name," marion said coldly. "i have no objection," said the other. "the time is coming when it will be necessary to speak very plainly indeed. my name is george abell, and i am secretary to dr. sergius tchigorsky. my friend's name is elphick. he was at one time a servant in the employ of one of your family." "tchigorsky?" marion cried. "but he is dead." "that seems to be the popular impression," abell said gravely. the words appeared to strike a chill in marion. she began to comprehend that all her sacrifices had been made in vain. "tchigorsky not dead?" she said hoarsely. "no," said abell. "i saw him a little time ago. it will perhaps not surprise you to hear that i am acting under his orders." "but he could not know that i----" "dr. tchigorsky seems to divine matters. he seems to know what people will do almost by instinct. he is a wonderful man and does wonderful things. but i cannot tell you any more; i am merely acting under orders." he indicated the way and marion proceeded without further protest. she felt like a condemned criminal when the sentence is pronounced. certain things were coming to an end. a long period of suspense and anxiety was nearly finished. how it was going to end marion neither knew nor cared. but she did know that the woman who was known as mrs. may was doomed. not another word passed until the foot of the cliffs was reached. it was no easy matter to get down in the dark, but it was managed at length. it was near the lonely spot where geoffrey's stranded boat had been found. for days together nobody came here and marion could not console herself with the fact that she would be rescued. not that she much cared; indeed, it was a matter of indifference to her what happened. abell was polite and attentive. he indicated a pile of rugs and wraps; if miss ravenspur wanted anything she had only to call out and it would be supplied immediately. "i wanted nothing but to rest," marion said wearily. "i am tired out. i feel as if i could sleep for a thousand years. i am so exhausted mentally that i have no astonishment to find myself in this strange situation." abell bowed and retired. the night was warm and the cave, being above any, even the high spring tides, was dry. marion flung herself down upon the pile of wraps and almost at once fell fast asleep. when she came to herself again the sun was shining high. outside abell was pacing the sands. marion called to him. "i want some breakfast," she said, "and then i should like to have a talk with you. if only i had a looking glass." "you don't need one," abell said respectfully if admiringly. "still, that has been thought of. there is a looking glass in the corner." marion smiled despite herself. she found the glass and propped it up before her. there was no cause for alarm. she looked as neat and fresh as if she had just made a due and elaborate toilette. geoffrey was fond of saying that after a football match marion would have remained as neat and tidy as ever. she ate her breakfast heartily--good tea, with eggs, and bread-and-butter and strawberries. "do you want anything more?" asked abell, looking in. "nothing, except my liberty," marion replied. "you may come in and smoke if you like. how long are you going to detain me here?" "four-and-twenty hours." "but i shall be missed. they will search for me. by this time, of course, they are hunting all over the place for me. they will come here----" "i think not," abell said politely. "it is too near home. nobody would dream of looking for you in a cave close to the castle. we thought of all that. they will not look for you for other reasons." marion glanced swiftly at the speaker. "how could you prevent them?" she demanded. abell puffed airily at his cigarette. he smiled pleasantly. "there are many ways," he said. "you do not come down to breakfast. they begin to be alarmed at your absence. somebody goes to your room and finds there a note addressed to your grandfather. that note is apparently in your handwriting. it contains a few lines to the effect that you have made a great discovery. you have gone at once to follow it up. the family are not to be alarmed if you do not return till very late. when you come back you hope to have a joyful revelation for everybody." marion smiled in reply. abell seemed to be so sure of his ground. "what you outline means forgery," she said. "so i presume," abell replied coolly. "but forgery is so simple nowadays with the aid of the camera. after what i have told you you will be able to see that our scheme has been thoughtfully worked out." "and when i come back do i bring a joyful confession with me?" abell looked steadily at the speaker. there was something in the expression of his eyes that caused her to drop hers. "that depends entirely upon yourself," he murmured. "one thing you may rely upon--the confession will be made and the clouds rolled away. it is only a matter of hours now. surely, you do not need to be told why you are detained?" for some reason best known to herself marion did not need to be told. it was a long time before she spoke again. she ought to have been angry with this man; she ought to have turned from him with indignation; but she did nothing of the kind. and if she had, her indignation would have been wasted. "you are in dr. tchigorsky's confidence?" she asked. abell shook his head with a smile. "i know a great deal about him," he said. "i help him in his experiments. but as to being in his confidence--no. i don't suppose any man in the world enjoys that, unless it is your uncle ralph." marion started. in that moment many things became clear to her. hitherto she had regarded ralph ravenspur as anything but a man to be dreaded or feared. now she knew better. why had she not thought of this before? "they are great friends?" she said. "oh, yes. they have been all over the world together. and they have been in places which they do not mention to anybody." chapter lii "as proof of holy writ" tchigorsky hung over the papers before him as if inspired. there was not much, apparently, in the book with the metal clasps, but that little seemed to be fascinating to a degree. the russian turned it over till he came to the end. "you appear to be satisfied," geoffrey said. "satisfied is a poor word to express my feelings," tchigorsky replied. he stretched himself; he drew a deep breath like one who has been under water. "i have practically everything here in this diary," he said. "it is written in a language you would fail to understand, but it is all like print to me. everything is traced down from the first of the family catastrophes to the last attempt by means of the bees. there are letters from lassa containing instructions for the preparation of certain drugs and poisons; in fact, here is everything." "so that we are rid of our foes at last?" "not quite. the princess is cunning. we shall have to extract a confession from her; we shall have to get her and her two slaves together. it is all a matter of hours, but we shall have to be circumspect. if the woman finds she is baffled she may be capable of a bitter revenge to finish with." "what are you going to do?" geoffrey asked. "we are going back to the castle the same way we came," tchigorsky explained. "we are going to show your uncle ralph our find. for the present it is not expedient that sergius tchigorsky should come to life again." the box was locked once more and replaced, and then the two burglars crept from the house. they had not disturbed anybody, for the upper windows of the farmhouse were all in darkness. a brisk walk brought them to the castle. upstairs a dim light was still burning in ralph ravenspur's window. the light flared up at the signal, and a few minutes later the three were seated round the lamp, while the window was darkened again. ralph sat stolidly smoking as if he had not moved for hours. he evinced not the slightest curiosity as to the success of his companions. tchigorsky smote him on the back with unwonted hilarity. "so you have been successful?" he croaked. "oh, you have guessed that!" tchigorsky cried. "it was a mere matter of time," ralph replied. "it was bound to come. i knew that from the first day i got here." "all very well," tchigorsky muttered; "but it was only a 'matter of time' till the ravenspurs were wiped out root and branch." "you knew the day you got here?" geoffrey exclaimed. ralph turned his inscrutable face to the speaker. "i did, lad," he said. "i came home to ascertain how the thing was worked. before i slept the first night under the old roof i knew the truth. and i came in time--guided by the hand of providence--to save the first of a fresh series of tragedies. "you wonder why i did not speak; you have asked me before why i did not proclaim my knowledge. and i replied that the whole world would have laughed at me; you would have been the first to deride me, and the assassin would have been warned. i kept my counsel; i worked on like a mole in the dark; and when i had something to go on, tchigorsky came. before you are many hours older the miscreants will stand confessed." tchigorsky nodded approval. he was deftly rolling a cigarette between his long fingers. "ralph is right," he said. "we have only to fire the mine now. by the way, ralph, you were clever to get that key." "easy enough," ralph croaked. "i knew the woman would be uneasy about her papers, so i gave her a touch of the cordial on her lips and brought her to her senses. a certain messenger who shall be nameless was sent off with the key. the messenger was detained, is still detained according to arrangements, and her pocket was picked. elphick dropped back and gave me the key, which i passed on to you." geoffrey followed in some bewilderment. the messenger business was all strange to him. "did you know that diary existed?" he asked. "of course i did," ralph growled. "in a measure, i might say that i had seen it. many a time at night have i lain in a flower-bed under that woman's window and heard her reading from the diary or writing in it. that is why i asked no questions when you came in. i knew you had been successful. and now, princess zara, it is my turn." ralph's voice dropped to a whisper, an intense, burning whisper of hate and vengeance. he rose and paced the room like a caged bird. "what will be her fate?" asked geoffrey. "burn her, slay her, hang her," ralph cried. "no death is too painful, too loathsome for a creature like that. i could forgive her fanatical cruelty; i could forgive the way she fought for her creed. but when it comes to those allied by ties----" the speaker paused and sat down. "who talks too fast says too much," he remarked sententiously. "what is the next move?" geoffrey asked. "bed, i should say," tchigorsky suggested dryly. "as far as one can judge we are likely to have a busy day before us to-morrow. and don't you be surprised at anything you see or hear. it will be all in the day's work, as you english say. i am going to lie up in hiding here, but i shall turn up when the time comes. good-night." it was late when geoffrey rose the following day, and the family had long had breakfast when he came downstairs. most of the family were still in the breakfast room or on the terrace in the sunshine. "how is the visitor?" he asked. "mrs. may seems very queer," mrs. gordon explained. "she complains of a sort of paralysis in her lower limbs. at the same time she refuses to see a doctor, saying that she has had something of the kind before." "does she account for her presence here?" said geoffrey. "oh, yes. of course she had heard you were missing and been informed that everybody from the castle was on the beach. it was getting dark when she saw two strange suspicious-looking men coming this way. she felt sure that they had designs on the house and followed them. she tried to get somebody to assist her, but could not see a soul anywhere. then she put on that queer dress and came on here. "the two men entered the castle and she crept after them. they discovered her and one of them gave her a blow on the head that stunned her. when she came to her senses again she was lying in bed. wasn't it plucky of her?" "very," geoffrey said dryly; "but where is marion?" "marion, like yourself, seems to be lazily inclined to-day. it is so very unlike her; indeed, i fear the poor child is anything but well. those quiet people always feel the most, and poor marion was greatly upset yesterday." vera came in at the same moment. she had a merry word or two for geoffrey as to his late appearance. she had not seen marion as yet. "run up to her room, there is a dear girl," said geoffrey. "this sort of thing is not like marion; i fear something has happened to her." "i wish you would," ravenspur observed. vera disappeared only to come back presently with the information that marion's room was empty, and that her bed had not been occupied. she held a little envelope in her hand. "i can only find this," she said. ravenspur snatched the letter, and tore it open. "extraordinary," he exclaimed. "marion says she has found a clue to the troubles and is following it up at once. if she does not come back till late we are not to worry about her. strange! but i have every confidence in the girl." "may she not come to harm!" vera said fervently. "oh, i hope not," mrs. gordon cried. "but will this mystery and misery never end?" chapter liii a little light mrs. may, princess zara, the brilliant mystery who wielded so great an influence over the destiny of the house of ravenspur, lay on her bed smiling faintly in the face of mrs. gordon ravenspur, who stood regarding her with friendly solicitude. mrs. gordon had no suspicions whatever; she would have trusted any one. all the lessons of all the years had taught her no prudence in that direction. a kind word or an appeal for assistance always disarmed mrs. gordon. "i hope you are comfortable?" she asked. mrs. may smiled faintly. she appeared a trifle embarrassed. she was acting her part beautifully as usual. her audacity and assurance had carried her through great difficulties and she had confidence in the future. "in my body, perfectly," she said. "but i am so uneasy in my mind." "and you will not have a doctor?" "not for worlds. there is nothing the matter with me. i have suffered like this before. i have a weak heart, you know, and excitement troubles me thus. but i don't want a doctor." "then why should you worry?" mrs. gordon asked. "i am ashamed of myself," the woman confessed with a laugh. "i have been wondering what you must think about me. this is the second time you have had to detain me as an involuntary guest under your roof. the first time i was the victim of idle curiosity; the second time i did try to do you a good turn. i hope you will remember that." "it was kind and courageous of you," mrs. gordon said warmly. "how many people would have done as much for strangers! and please do not talk about it any more or i shall be distressed." mrs. may was by no means sorry to change the conversation. a thousand questions trembled on her lips, but she restrained them. she was burning to know certain things, but the mere mention of such matters might have aroused suspicions in a far simpler mind than that of mrs. gordon. "so long as you are all well it doesn't matter," she said. "this afternoon i shall make an effort to get up. meanwhile, i won't keep you from your household duties. could i see one of those charming girls, miss vera or marion? i have taken such a fancy to them." "vera shall come presently; she has gone to the village," mrs. gordon explained. as to marion she could say nothing. "marion has been an enigma to us lately," she explained. "i need not tell you of the dark shadows hanging over this unhappy house, or how near we have been to the solution of the mystery on more than one occasion. and now marion has an idea, queer child. "she went out, presumably last night, leaving a note to say she had really got on the track at last, and that we were not to worry about her even if she did not return to-day. so strange of marion." mrs. may had turned her face away. she was fearful lest the other, prattling on in her innocent way, should see the rage and terror and despair of her features. "queer!" she murmured hoarsely. "did she write to you?" "no, to my husband's father. her note was given to me. even now i don't know what to make of it. would you like to see the letter? you are so clever that you may understand it better than i do." "i should like to see the letter." it was an effort almost beyond the speaker's powers to keep her voice steady. even then the words sounded in her ears as if they came from somebody else. from her pocket mrs. gordon produced the letter. mrs. may appeared to regard it languidly. "if i knew the girl better i could tell you," she said. "it sounds sincere. but my head is beginning to ache again." mrs. gordon was all solicitude. she drew down the blinds, and produced eau de cologne, and fanned the brow of the sufferer after drenching it with the spirit. mrs. may smiled languidly but gratefully. at the same time it was all she could do to keep her hands from clutching the other by the throat and screaming out that unless she was left alone murder would be done. "now i really can leave you," mrs. gordon said. "it would be the greatest kindness," the invalid murmured gratefully. the door softly closed; mrs. may struggled to a sitting position. her eyes were gleaming, yet a hard despair was on her face. she ought to be up and doing, but her lower limbs refused their office. "a forgery," she said between her teeth. "marion never wrote that letter. if they were not blind they could see that for themselves. marion has been decoyed away; and, if so, somebody has that key. if i only knew. tchigorsky is dead and ralph ravenspur is an idiot. who, then, is the prime mover in this business?" the woman did not know, and for the life of her she could not guess. tchigorsky was out of the way--dead and buried. ralph ravenspur and geoffrey were antagonists not worthy of a second thought. but somebody was moving and that somebody a skilled and vigorous foe. for once the arch-conspirator was baffled. the foe had the enormous knowledge of knowing his quarry, while the quarry had not the least notion where or how to look for the hunter. and the fish was fast to the line. unless it got away at once the landing net would be applied; then there would be an end of all things. but she could not move; she could do nothing but lie there gasping in impotent rage. there was only one person in the world who could help her now, and that was marion. and where was marion? only the man on the other side of the chess board knew that. she wished she knew; oh! she wished she knew a score of things. did the people of the castle suspect her? hardly that, or mrs. gordon had not been so friendly. what had become of the coat and glass mask she was wearing at the time things went wrong in geoffrey ravenspur's room? had her subordinates heard her cry? had they fled, or had they been taken? if they had fled, had they removed the instruments with them? mrs. may would have given five years of her life for enlightenment on these vital questions. even she could not read the past and solve the unseen. tears of impotent rage and fury rose to her eyes. while she was lying there wasting the diamond minutes the foe was at work. at any time that foe might come down with the most overwhelming proofs and crush her. marion had been spirited away. why? so that the key of the safe might be stolen and used to advantage. once more the woman tried to raise herself from the bed. it was useless. she slipped the bed-clothes into her mouth to stifle the cries that rose to her lips. she was huddled under them when the door opened and vera stepped in. "did you call out?" she asked. "i was passing your door and fancied i heard a cry. are you still suffering from a headache?" mrs. may's first impulse was to order the girl away. then an idea came to her. "the headache is gone," she said sweetly. "it was just a twinge of neuralgia. i wonder if you would do me a favor." "certainly." "then i wish you would get me some paper and envelopes. i have a note to write. there is a child in the village i am fond of. she comes and sits in the tangle at the bottom of the jessops' garden and talks to me. i am afraid she thinks more of my chocolates than me, but that is a detail." "you want to write the child a note. how sweet of you!" "oh, no," mrs. may said. she was going to embark on a dangerous effort and was not quite certain as yet. but desperate diseases require desperate remedies. "it is nothing. and i don't want anybody to know." "i am sure you can trust to me." "of course i can, my dear child. and i will. please get me the materials." vera brought the paper and essentials. with a smile on her face mrs. may wrote the letter. inside the envelope she placed something she had taken from the bosom of her dress. "a cake of chocolate," she explained smilingly. "see, i do not address the envelope, but place on it this funny sign that looks like an intoxicated problem in euclid. the child will understand. and now i am going to ask you to do me a favor. will you please take the letter without letting anybody know what you are doing, and put it at the foot of the big elder in the tangle? i dare say it sounds very stupid of me, but i don't want the child to be disappointed." vera professed herself ready and also to be charmed with the idea. she would go at once, she said, and mrs. may raised no obstacle. at the end of the corridor vera was confronted with her uncle ralph. he held out his hand. "i was listening," he said. "i knew beyond all doubt that something of the kind would be attempted. i want that letter." "but uncle, i promised----" "it matters nothing what you promised. it is of vital importance that the inside of that letter should be seen. chocolate for a child, indeed. death to us all, rather. you are going to give me that letter and i am going to open it. afterwards it shall be sealed again, and you shall convey it to its destination. the letter!" dazed and bewildered, vera handed it to him. it was not a nice thing to do, but, then, nice methods were not for mrs. may. ralph grasped the letter and made off towards his room. "wait here," he said. "i shall not be a few minutes. i am merely going to steam that envelope open and master the contents. don't go away." vera nodded. she was too astonished for words; not that she felt compunction any longer. presently ralph returned. "there you are, my child," he said. "if i seemed harsh to you, forgive me. it is no time for courtesies. you can take the letter now and deliver it. it has been a good and great discovery for us." chapter liv exit the asiatics tchigorsky, ralph ravenspur, and geoffrey sat smoking in the blind man's room. it was late the same afternoon and from the window could be heard the thunder of the incoming tide. tchigorsky appeared to be in excellent spirits, puffed his cigarette with gusto and came out in the new rôle of a _raconteur_. "we have them all now," he said. "to-day will settle everything. it was a pretty idea of ralph's to hang about the corridor under the impression that the woman would try to send some kind of message to her familiars. real genius, i call it." "not a bit of it," ralph said doggedly. "pshaw, a child would have done the same. the woman was bound to try to send a letter. she lies there helpless, but knows that somebody is moving in her tracks. and, to add to her suspense, she hasn't an idea who is following her up. "don't you see she is in the dark? don't you understand that she suspects she has been trapped? she wants to know all about her infernal apparatus. she wants her information all at one fell swoop. and when she found that marion was missing she felt certain that her time was near." "what is her hold over marion?" geoffrey asked. "and why has marion gone away?" tchigorsky said evasively. "we shall come to a full understanding about that presently. let us begin to unravel the skein from the start. i read that letter which ralph gave to me, the letter which by this time is in the hands of that woman's familiars. they have instructions to come to the castle at dusk and enter it by way of the vaults. when the family are at dinner the orientals will make their way up to their mistress." "but can they?" geoffrey asked. "of course they can. many a night have they been here. but we have already stopped any danger that way by locking the door of the vault, the one below sea level. then we shall go down the cliffs presently and take the chaps like rats in a trap. they will be arrested and handed over to the police because the time has come when we can afford to show our hands. the end is very near." "but the evidence against mrs. may?" geoffrey suggested. tchigorsky tapped his breast pocket significantly. "you have forgotten the diary," he said. "i have evidence enough here to hang that vile wretch over and over again. i have evidence enough to place in the hands of the government which will convince those gentry in the temples beyond lassa that they had better be content to leave us alone in future unless they desire to have their temples blown about their ears. this diary clinches the whole business. the house of ravenspur is free." "god grant that it may be so," geoffrey said fervently. "we have only to wait till dusk. tell me the rest of your adventures in the black valley." tchigorsky nodded as he proceeded to make a fresh cigarette. "there is not much more to tell," he said. "some day, when i have more leisure on my hands, i will give the whole business, chapter and verse. i have only told you enough for you to know the class of foe you have to deal with. "well, as i told you, we shot two of the priests whose business it was to guide our stumbling feet to the bottom and then leave us there. we knew that these men would never be missed, so that we hadn't much anxiety on that score. the others, despite their sacred calling, were just as anxious to live as anybody else. "to prevent any chance of escape, we took off our flowing robes, tore them into strips, and bound our guides to ourselves. it was a good thing we did so, for before long we plunged into darkness so thick that its velvety softness seemed to suffocate us. "you will hardly believe me, but for two whole days and nights we stumbled on in that awful darkness without food or rest, except now and again when we fell exhausted. all that time we could see nothing, but there were awful noises from unseen animals, roars and yells and cries of pain. "loathsome, greasy reptiles were under our feet, the clammy rocks seemed to be alive with them. yet they did us no harm; indeed, their sole object seemed to be to get out of our way. sometimes great eyes gleamed at us, but those eyes were ever filled with a terror greater than our own. "after a bit this sense of fear passed away. had we been alone, had we possessed no hope of ultimate salvation, the unseen horrors of the place would have driven us mad. we should have wandered on until we had dropped hopelessly insane and perished. even a man utterly devoid of imagination could not have fought off the mad terror of it all. as for me, i will never forget it." tchigorsky paused and wiped his forehead. glancing at ralph, geoffrey could see that the latter was trembling like a leaf. "we came to the end of it at length," tchigorsky went on. "we came to light and a long desolate valley whence we proceeded into an arid desert. here we found our latitude and dismissed our guides. we ought to have shot them, but we refrained. it would have saved a deal of trouble. they were not less dangerous than mad dogs. "we got into communication with our guides and servants in a day or two, and there ended the first and most thrilling volume of our adventures. how the princess zara has persecuted us ever since you know. and how we are going to turn the tables on that fiend of a woman you also know." there was a long silence after tchigorsky had finished and dusk began to fall. geoffrey looked out of the window toward the sea. suddenly he started. "blobber rock," he gasped. "covered! not a vestige of it to be seen! it is high spring tide to-day, the highest of the month, and i had forgotten all about it." "what difference does it make?" tchigorsky asked. "it fills the underground caves," geoffrey cried. "we have locked the doors of the lower vault, and in that vault are the two asiatics waiting the orders of their mistress. a spring tide fills that vault with water. if those men got that letter, as they are pretty sure to have done by this time, then they are dead men. once they get into the cave the tide would cut them off, and they would be drowned like rats in a sewer. of course, they would have no idea the vault was closed to them, and----" "quite right," tchigorsky interrupted. "i never thought of that. and i had no knowledge of the state of the tide. and there are other caves where----" he was going to say "where marion is," but paused. ralph seemed to divine what was in his mind. the reply seemed incontinent, but tchigorsky understood. "all the other caves are practically beyond high-water mark," he said. "what geoffrey says is correct and our forgetfulness has saved the hangman a job. but wouldn't it be well to make sure?" tchigorsky was of that opinion. "no need to alarm the household," he said. "geoffrey shall procure a lantern, and i will come and assist in the search. i don't want to be seen just yet; but it really does not much matter, as there is no need for further concealment. if these men are drowned, they are drowned, and there is an end of the matter. in any case, we have the chief culprit by the heels." it was possible, after all, to reach the vaults without being seen. geoffrey procured a lantern and the party set out. when they were at the bottom of the steps they could hear the sea slashing and beating on the walls and sides of the vault. a great wave slipped up as the door opened. geoffrey bent down with the lantern in his hand. for some time he searched the boiling spume without success. "can you see anything?" asked tchigorsky. "nothing whatever," said geoffrey. "it is possible that they might not---- ah!" he shuddered as he raised the light. the spume ceased to boil for a moment, then a stiff, rigid hand crept horribly from the flood. a brown sodden face followed. there lay one of the asiatics past the power of further harm. "you have seen one," tchigorsky shouted, "and there is the other." another face came up like a repulsive picture on a screen. a minute later and the two bodies were dripping on the steps of the vault. chapter lv a shock for the princess it was not a pleasant task, but it had to be done. fortunately it was possible to do everything discreetly and in order, for the vaults were large, and there was not the slightest chance that any of the household would come near. the bodies were laid out there and the key turned upon them. geoffrey looked at his companions and inquired what was to be done next. "inform the head of the house and send for the police", tchigorsky said; "so far as i can see, it will be impossible to keep the matter a secret. nor are we to blame. those men came here for no good purpose, and we took steps to prevent them from entering the house. "unfortunately, we forgot there would be an exceptionally high tide to-day, and consequently they have paid the penalty of their folly. but we can't bury these two fellows as we did the others." "hadn't we better search them?" ralph suggested. "they came in response to the note sent them by their mistress. the note was opened and read. one of them is sure to have the letter on his person." "then let the police find it," tchigorsky said promptly. "it will be the link in the evidence that we require. when you and i come to tell our story, ralph, and the police find that letter, the net around princess zara will be complete. i have only to produce that diary and the case is finished." ralph nodded approval. five minutes later and the head of the house, seated over a book in the library, was exceedingly astonished to see ralph and geoffrey, followed by tchigorsky, enter the room. he swept a keen glance over their faces; he saw at once they had news of grave import for him. "i do not understand," he said. "dr. tchigorsky, i am amazed. i was under the impression that you were dead and buried." "other people shared the same opinion, sir," tchigorsky said coolly. "the great misfortune of another man was my golden opportunity. it was necessary for certain people to regard me as dead--your enemies particularly. but perhaps i had better explain." "it would be as well," ravenspur murmured. tchigorsky proceeded to clear the mystery of voski's death. he had to tell the whole story, beginning at lassa and going on to the end. ravenspur listened with the air of a man who dreams. to a man used all his life to the quiet life of an english shire it seemed impossible to believe that such things could be. and why should these people persecute him; why should they come here? what did those men mean by drowning themselves in the vaults? "they came here at the instigation of mrs. may," tchigorsky said. "but i don't see how that lady comes to be in it at all." "you will in a minute," said tchigorsky grimly. "you will when i tell you that mrs. may and princess zara are one and the same person." ravenspur gasped. the bare idea of having such a woman under his roof filled him with horror. even yet he could not understand his danger. "but why does she come?" he demanded. "for revenge on you two?" "oh, no. my being here was a mere coincidence. of course, the princess would have removed me sooner or later. ralph, strange to say, she does not recognize at all, possibly because he has disguised himself with such simple cleverness. princess zara came here to destroy your family." "in the name of heaven, why?" "partly for revenge, partly for money. i told you all about her husband, who was an english officer. i told you why she had married him. when she discovered the papers she wanted, then she killed him and returned to her own people, giving out that she and her husband had perished up country in a fearful cholera epidemic. she wanted money. why not kill off her husband's family one by one so that finally the estates should come to her? mr. ravenspur, surely you have guessed who was the english officer princess zara married?" ravenspur staggered back as before a heavy blow. the illuminating flash almost stunned him. he fell gasping into a chair. "my son, jasper," he said hoarsely. "that fiend is his widow." "and marion's mother," ralph croaked. geoffrey was almost as much astonished as his grandfather. he wondered why he had not seen all this before. once explained, the problem was ridiculously simple. ravenspur covered his face with his hands. "marion must not know," he said. "it would kill her." "she knows already," tchigorsky said. "that woman has great influence over her child. and the idea was for the child to get everything. the others were to be killed off until she was the only one left. with this large fortune at command zara meant to be another queen of sheba. and she would have succeeded, too." ravenspur shuddered. he was torn by conflicting emotions. perhaps tenderness and sympathy for marion were uppermost. how much did she know? how much had she guessed? was she entirely in the dark as to her mother's machinations, or had she come resolved to protect the relatives as much as possible? ravenspur poured out these questions one after another. tchigorsky could or would say nothing to relieve the other's feelings on these points. "what you ask has nothing to do with the case," he said. "i have proved to you, i am prepared to prove in any court of law, how your family has been destroyed and who is the author of the mischief. "she is under your roof, where she is powerless to move. her two confederates lie dead in the vaults yonder. i have already explained to you how it came about that the princess is here and how her infernal apparatus failed. it now remains to call in the police." "there will be a fearful scandal," ravenspur groaned. tchigorsky glanced at him impatiently. the cosmopolitan knew a great many things that were sealed books to ravenspur--in point of knowledge it was as a child alongside a great master; but tchigorsky knew nothing of family pride. "which will be forgotten in a week," he said emphatically. "and when the thing is over you will be free again. you cannot realize what that means as yet." "no," ravenspur said. "i cannot." "nevertheless, you can see for yourself that what i say is a fact," tchigorsky resumed. "and as a county magistrate and a deputy-lieutenant you would hardly venture to suggest that we should bury those bodies and say nothing to anybody about it?" ravenspur nodded approval. a few minutes later a groom was carrying a note to the police inspector at alton. ravenspur turned to tchigorsky with a manner more genial than he usually assumed. "i have forgotten to thank you," he said. "and you, ralph, have saved the house. if you can forget the past----" he said no more, but his hand went out. ralph seemed to divine it and pressed it closely. there was no word uttered on either side. but they both understood and ralph smiled. geoffrey had never seen his uncle smile before. the expression of his face was genial, almost handsome. his wooden look had utterly disappeared and nobody ever saw it again. the transformation of ralph ravenspur was not the least wonderful incident of the whole mysterious affair. the door opened and vera came lightly into the room. "what does all this mystery mean?" she asked. "geoffrey, you are--dr. tchigorsky!" the last words came with a scream that might have been heard all over the house. tchigorsky closed the door and proceeded rapidly to explain. but it was not the full explanation he had given to the others. there was time enough for that. vera was too bewildered to ask questions. at a sign from geoffrey she slipped from the room. then she recollected that she had come downstairs on an errand of mercy. she promised to get a cup of tea for the woman whom she still knew as mrs. may. she procured the tea from the drawing room and, in a dazed kind of state made her way up the stairs again. mrs. may was sitting up in bed. there was a pink spot on either cheek and her dark eyes were blazing. "i hope nothing is wrong," she said. "it might have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that i heard you call tchigorsky's name at the top of your voice." the suggestion was made with a fervent earnestness that the woman could not repress. but vera did not notice it. "i did," she said. "i walked into the library, hearing voices there, and in a chair dr. tchigorsky was seated. no wonder that i cried out. it was a fearful shock. and when he began to talk i could not believe the evidence of my senses." "then who was it that was buried?" the woman asked the question mechanically. she knew perfectly well what the reply would be; she knew that she had been discovered at last, and that the murder of voski had been turned to good purpose by tchigorsky. and she knew now who her new ally, ben heer, really was. "dr. voski," vera explained. "i have been hearing all about lassa and a certain princess zara, who seems to be a dreadful wretch. but i fear that i am exciting you. and you haven't drunk your tea." the woman gulped down her tea and then fell back on her bed, closing her eyes. she wanted to be alone, to have time to think. danger had threatened her before, but not living, palpitating peril like this. vera crept away and the woman rose again, but she could not get from her bed. passionate, angry tears filled her eyes. "that man has beaten me," she groaned. "it is finished for good and all. but their revenge will not be of long duration." chapter lvi marion comes back the police had more or less taken possession of ravenspur. they were everywhere asking questions that tchigorsky took upon himself to answer. as he had expected, the note carried by vera and deposited in the farmhouse garden had been found on one of the bodies. the inspector of police was an intelligent man, and he fell in with everything that tchigorsky suggested. "of course you can't read this book," said the russian as he handed over the fateful diary for safe custody, "but there are one or two oriental scholars in london who will bear out my testimony. have you any doubt?" "personally not the least," the inspector replied. "you say it is impossible for that woman to get away?" "absolutely impossible. she is safe for days." "then in that case there is no need to arrest her. that will have to come after the inquest on these men, which we shall hold to-morrow. and what a sensation the case will make! if i had read this thing in a book i should have laughed at it. and now we must have a thorough search for those electrical appliances." it was long past dinner-time before the police investigations were finished. aided by tchigorsky a vast amount of mechanical appliances was found, including the apparatus that was to do so much harm to the ravenspurs, and which had ended in wrecking the schemes of their arch-enemy. "inquest at ten to-morrow, sir," the inspector remarked to ravenspur. "i am very sorry, but we shall not trouble you more than we can help." ravenspur shook his head sadly. he was not particularly versed in the ways of the law, but he could see a long case ahead; and he was beginning to worry about marion. it was nearly ten o'clock now and the girl had not returned. it would be a sad home-coming for the girl, but they would all do what they could for her. everybody appeared to be duly sympathetic except ralph, who said nothing. tchigorsky seemed to have obliterated himself entirely. geoffrey had retired to the billiard-room, where vera followed him. they started a game, but their nerves were in no condition to finish it. cues were flung down and the lovers stood before the fireplace. "what are you thinking about?" geoffrey asked. vera looked up dreamingly. she touched geoffrey's cheek caressingly. she looked like one who is happy and yet at the same time ashamed of her own happiness. "of many things, pleasant and otherwise," she said. "i am still utterly in the dark myself, but those who know tell me that the shadow has lifted forever. that in itself is so great a joy that i dare not let my mind dwell upon it as yet. to think that we may part and meet again, to think---- but i dare not let my mind dwell upon that. but what has mrs. may to do with it?" vera was not behind the scenes as yet. still, within a few hours the thing must come out. what the family regarded as a nurse had been procured for the invalid, a nurse who really was a female warder in disguise, and ravenspur had sternly given strict orders that nobody was to go near that room. he vouchsafed no reason why; he gave the order and it was obeyed. then geoffrey told vera everything. he went through the whole story from the very beginning. vera listened as one in a dream. such wickedness was beyond her comprehension. awful as the cloud was that had long hung over the house of ravenspur, vera had not imagined it to be lined with such depravity as this. "and so that inhuman wretch is marion's mother?" said vera. "the child of a creature who deliberately murdered a husband and tried to destroy his family so that she could get everything into her hands! no wonder that marion has been a changed creature since this mrs. may has been about! how i pity her anguish and condition of mind! but had marion a sister?" "not that i ever heard of. why?" "i was thinking of that other girl, the girl so like marion that you were talking about just now. what has become of her?" geoffrey shook his head. he had forgotten that most mysterious personage. it was more than likely, he explained, that tchigorsky would know. not that it much mattered. the two were silent for some little time, then a peal of laughter from the drawing-room caused them to smile. "my mother," said vera. "i have not heard her laugh like that for years. does it not seem funny to realize that before long we shall be laughing and chatting and moving with the world once more, geoff? i should like to leave ravenspur and have a long, long holiday on the continent." geoffrey stooped and kissed her. "so you shall, sweet," he said. "we can be married now. and when we come back to ravenspur it will be the dear old home i recollect in my childhood's days. vera, you and i shall be the happiest couple in the world." they went back to the drawing room again. here the elders were conversing quietly yet happily. there was an air of cheerful gaiety upon them that the house had not know for many a long day. gordon ravenspur was impressing upon his father the necessity of looking more sharply after the shooting. the head of the family had before him some plans of new farm buildings. it was marvelous what a change the last few hours had wrought. and the author of all the sorrow and anguish was upstairs guarded by eyes that never tired. "how bright and cheerful you look," vera said. "it only wants one thing to make the picture complete. you can guess, dear grandfather." "marion," ravenspur said. "marion, of course." "she will come back," ralph murmured. "marion will return. we know now that no harm could come to the girl. i should not wonder if she were not on her way home this very moment." half an hour passed, an hour elapsed, and yet no marion. they were all getting uneasy but ralph, who sat doggedly in his chair. then there was a commotion outside, the door opened, and marion came in. she looked pale and uneasy. she glanced from one to the other with frightened eyes. it was easy to see that she was greatly moved and, moreover, was not sure as to the warmth of her reception. but she might have made her mind easy on that score. all rose to welcome her. "my dear, dear child," vera cried. "where have you been?" vera fluttered forward and took off marion's cloak. all seemed to be delighted. marion dropped into a chair with quivering smile. ralph had felt his way across to her and stood by the side of her chair. "i fancied i had made a discovery," she said. "it occurred to me perhaps----. but don't let us talk about myself. has anything happened here?" "much," ralph cried. "great things. the mystery is solved." "solved?" marion gasped. "you have found the culprit?" "the culprit is in the house. she is mrs. may. i prefer to call her princess zara; and yet again i might call her mrs. ravenspur, wife of the late jasper ravenspur. marion, we have found your mother." marion said nothing. her head had fallen forward and she sat swaying in her chair. there was a hard yet pleading look in her eyes. ralph bent down and drew her none too tenderly to her feet. "the she-wolf is yonder, the cub is here," he cried. "are you going to speak or shall i tell the story? speak, or let me do so." ravenspur sprang forward angrily. "what are you doing?" he cried. "to lay hand on that angel----" "ay," said ralph, "an angel truly, but a fallen one--lucifer in the dust." chapter lvii hand and foot what did it mean? why was there all this commotion in the house? and why did everybody leave her so severely alone? these were the questions that princess zara, otherwise mrs. may, otherwise mrs. jasper ravenspur, asked herself. and why had marion not returned? oh, it was bitter to lie there fettered hand and foot at the very moment when activity and cunning and action were most imperatively needed. and tchigorsky was not dead. how she had been tricked and fooled! fate had played against her. who could have anticipated that voski would have come to ravenspur and met his death there! by this time the sham ben heer had all necessary proofs in his hands. the door opened and a resolute-looking woman came in. her garb was something of the hospital type, yet more severe and plainer. she came in and took her place with the air of one who watches a prisoner. "i do not require your services," the adventuress said coldly. "it is immaterial, madame," was the equally cold reply. "i am sent here to do my duty whether you require my services or not." "indeed! am i to regard myself as a prisoner, then?" the other bowed. the bolt had fallen. there was nothing for it but to submit quietly. by this time tchigorsky's proofs were in possession of the police. the prisoner smiled grimly as she thought how she could escape her foes yet. "what is the confusion in the house?" she asked. "what is your name?" "my name is symonds. i was fetched here by the inspector of police. the bodies of two asiatics have been found drowned in the vaults, and they are getting ready for the inquest to-morrow." once again the defeated murderess smiled. fate was all against her. those men had come to do her bidding and had perished. doubtless the note sent by vera ravenspur would be found on one of them, and this would be no more than another link in the long chain. she tried to rise but she could not. she lay on the bed fully dressed, her brain was as quick and as clear as ever, but the paralysis in the lower limbs fettered her. a blind fury shook her for the moment. if she had only been free to move she would have triumphed even yet. tchigorsky might have been a clever man, but she would have shown him that he was no match for her. and now she had walked into the trap he had laid for her. doubtless she had been watched into the castle; doubtless the enemy had seen her lay those wires, and had arranged to give her a taste of that deadly stuff she had prepared for others. then marion had been spirited away, and the key of the safe taken from her. subsequently tchigorsky had ransacked the box. oh, she saw it all. the family of ravenspur saw it all by this time, too. she was no longer a guest in the house of ravenspur, but a prisoner in charge of a female warder. in a day or two she would be cast into prison. in due course she would undergo her trial and finally be hanged by the neck until she were dead. it was this last thought that caused her to smile. she was too clever a woman not to accept the inevitable. a great many people in her position would have protested and lied and blustered. she saw the folly of it. "i should like to see mr. ravenspur," she said. "will you tell him so? you need not fear. i am helpless. i could not move." mrs. symonds stepped into the corridor and gave the message to a passing servant. after a time a slow step came shuffling along up the stairs. it was ralph, who presently came into the room. "you can leave us for a little time," he said. symonds discreetly disappeared. she passed into the corridor. the woman in the bed opened her mouth to speak, but stopped in astonishment. ralph's glasses were gone, and the smooth unguents had disappeared from his face. those cruel criss-cross lines stood out with startling distinctness. "you wanted to see my father?" he said. "my father declines to see you in any circumstances. perhaps i shall do as well." "you, you are one of the men i saw at lassa." the words came from the woman's lips with a gasp. she had never been so astonished in all her life. "yes, i was the other one," ralph said coolly. "i had to disguise myself when i found out you were in england. there is no longer any need for disguise. i hope you are delighted to see me, my dear sister-in-law." "oh, so you know that also?" "you may take it for granted that i knew everything." there was a long pause before the woman spoke again. "i need not ask what opinion you have formed of me?" "you are perhaps the most depraved wretch who ever drew the breath of life," said ralph, slowly and without emotion. "to your ambition and what you call your religion you are prepared to sacrifice everything. you deliberately murdered the man who loved you." "your brother, jasper. i admit it. perhaps you will find it impossible to believe that i loved him. but i did with my whole heart and soul. i loved him and i killed him. does it not sound strange? but this is the fact. i had to do it--for the sake of my people and my religion i had to do it. when i recovered those papers i slew him as he knew i would. he was the only thing on earth that i had to care for." "oh! had you not a daughter?" the woman made a gesture of contempt. "a poor creature," she said. "but i brought her up in the strong faith i follow, and so she has not been without her uses. not that she knows anything of the holy temple and the ceremonial there. i never told her about the two men who escaped along the black valley. if i had i should have known you to be a worthy antagonist instead of a half-witted fool, and then you would never have brought me to this pass. oh, if i had only told her that!" there was a passionate ring in the woman's voice. it was the first time during the interview that she had displayed any humanity. "you didn't and there is an end of it," ralph said. "go on." "is there any need to go on? i have failed and there is an end of the matter. when my husband died my feelings were turned to rage and hatred of you all." "why should you all live and prosper while he was dead?" said mrs. may. "with your money i could do anything among my own people. i could found a new dynasty. did i not possess the occult knowledge of the east with a thorough knowledge of what you are pleased to call western civilization? i could do it. a little longer and your wealth would have come to my child; in other words, it would have come to me. do you understand what i mean?" "perfectly. i have understood for some time. before i returned to england i had an idea of what was at the bottom of the vendetta. but you would not have succeeded. tchigorsky and myself made up our minds that if we could not bring the crimes home to you we would shoot you." ralph spoke with a grim coldness that was not without its effect upon the listener. hard as she was, the sentiment was after her own heart. "that would have been murder," she said. "perhaps so. in the cold, prosaic eyes of the law we might have been regarded as criminals of the type you mention; but we did not propose to pay any deference to the law. nor would our deed have been discovered. you would simply have disappeared; we should have shot you and thrown your body into the sea. and i don't fancy that the deed would have weighed very heavily on the conscience of either of us." the woman smiled. nothing seemed to disturb her. she was full of passionate fury against the decrees of fate, but she did not show it. "i suppose you planned everything out?" she asked. "everything; tchigorsky and myself between us. it was tchigorsky who rescued my nephew after your familiar in the blue dress and red hat had cut the mast and sculls. we guessed that the search for geoffrey would empty the house, and that you would take advantage of the fact. "geoffrey and i watched you laying those wires. it was i who saw that you had a taste of the poison. i wanted to lay you by the heels here while tchigorsky overhauled your possessions. your messenger was waylaid and robbed of your key. also i opened the letter you sent by my niece so that your confederates might be summoned to your assistance." "marion has come back again?" "within the last hour, yes. you will see her presently." the woman smiled curiously. "not to-night," she said. "not to-night. i am tired and fancy i shall sleep well. i shall be glad of a long, long rest. shall i see your father?" "no," ralph said sternly. "you certainly shall not." "then good-night. do not be surprised if i beat you yet." it was late, and the family were retiring. marion had already gone. in the drawing-room a group had gathered round the fire. they were silent and sad, for they had heard many things that had moved them strangely. there was a knock at the door and symonds looked in. "my prisoner is dead," she said coldly and unmoved. "i supposed she managed to secret some poison and take it. but she is dead." "it is well," ravenspur replied. "it might have been worse. it was the best she could do to lift the shadow of disgrace from this unhappy house." l'envoi marion had bowed her head before the coming storm. she asked no mercy and expected none. yet she looked the same pure, unaffected saint she had ever appeared. ravenspur would have taken her hand, but she drew it away. "it is true," she said, "i am a fallen angel. i have never been anything else. put it down to my mother's training if you like, but i came here as her friend, not yours. my religion is hers, my feelings are hers; i am of her people. with all the wicked knowledge of the east i came here to cut you off root and branch." "why?" ravenspur said brokenly. "in the name of heaven, why?" "because for years i have been taught to hate you; because i am at heart an asiatic. it would be grand to have all your money, so that i might be a great person in my own country some day. then i came and brought the curse with me. it never seemed to strike any of you that the curse and i came together. three deaths followed. in every one of these i played a part; i was responsible for them all. shall i tell you how?" "no, no," said ravenspur. "heavens, this is too horrible. to think of you looking so sweet and so fair and good; to think that you should have crept into our hearts only to betray us like this. we want to hear nothing beyond your confession. have you a heart at all, or are you a beautiful fiend?" "i did not imagine that i had a heart at all until i came here," marion replied. she had not abated a jot of her sweetness of expression or angelic manner. "then gradually i began to love you all. when i met my cousin geoffrey i recognized the fact that i was a woman. "more than once i have been on the point of betraying myself to him. but the more passion for him filled my heart the worse i felt. i was going to kill you all off and keep geoffrey for myself. if vera had died he would have come to care for me in time. i know he would. "then my mother came. i was not getting along fast enough for her. her keen eyes saw into my breast and discovered my secret at once. for that reason she marked geoffrey down for her next victim. i tried to warn him; i wrote him a letter. and i had to do him to death myself. it was i who cut the mast away; it was i who sawed the sculls. i was the girl in the blue dress." "amazing," geoffrey murmured. "to think of it! marion, marion!" there were tears in his eyes; he could not be angry with her. there were tears in the eyes of everybody. vera was crying softly. and all the grief was as so many daggers in the heart of the unhappy girl. "go on," she said. "cry for me. every look of pity and every sign of grief stings me to the quick. perhaps i am mad; perhaps i am not responsible for my actions. but i swear that all the time i have been plotting against your lives i have cared for you. only my training and my religion forced me on. call me insane if you please, as you say of the fakir who sleeps upon a bed of sharp nails. i could explain all the mysteries----" "you need not," ralph said. "i can do that in good time. from the first i knew you, from the first i have dogged you from room to room at night and frustrated your designs. then came tchigorsky, who finished the task for me. need i say more?" marion moved towards the door. the imploring look had gone from her face; her eyes had grown sad and hopeless. and yet in the face of her confession, in face of the knowledge of her crimes, not one of them had the slightest anger for her. "i am going," she said. "in the event of this happening, i had made my plans. it may be that i shall have to take my trial; it may be that i shall be spared. one thing you may be certain of--my mother will never stand in the dock." ralph rose and slipped quietly from the room. "if she dies, if anything happens to her," marion went on, "it may be possible to spare me. nobody knows anything to my dishonor outside the family but dr. tchigorsky, and you can rely upon his silence. if my mother is no more there need be no scandal. farewell, farewell to you all! oh, if heaven had been good to me, and sent me here as a little child, then what a happy life might have been mine!" she passed out of the room and nobody made any attempt to detain her. it was a long, long time before anybody spoke and no voice was raised above a whisper. the shock was stupendous. in none of their past sorrows and troubles had their feelings been more outraged. the cloud lay heavy upon them all; it would be a long while before it passed away. ravenspur rose at length, his face white and worn. "we can do no good here," he said. "perhaps sleep will bring us merciful relief." it was at this moment that symonds looked in with her information. it was no shock, because all were past being shocked. vera cried on geoffrey's shoulder. "i am glad of it," she whispered; "it's an awful thing to say, but i am glad. it saves marion. we shall never see her again; but i am glad she is saved." * * * * * a young couple were looking down on the mediterranean from the terrace of an old garden filled with the choicest flowers. the man looked bronzed and well, the girl radiantly happy. for grief has no abiding place in the eyes of youth. "doesn't it seem wonderful, geoffrey?" the girl said. "positively i cannot realize that we have been married three weeks. i shall wake up presently and find myself back at ravenspur again wondering what dreadful thing is going to happen next." geoffrey touched a letter that lay in vera's lap. "here is the evidence of our freedom," he said. "read it to me, please." vera picked up the letter. there was no heading. then she read: "i am near you and yet far off. i hear little things from the world from time to time, and i know that you are married to geoffrey. i felt that i must write you a few lines. "i am in a convent here, in a convent from whence i can never emerge again. heaven knows how many human tragedies are bound up in these gray old walls. but of all the miserable wretches here there is none more miserable than myself. still, in my new faith i have found consolation. i know that there is hope even for sinners as black as myself. "will it sound strange to you to hear that i long and yearn for you always; that i still love those whom i would have destroyed? i meant to write you a long letter, but my heart is too full. do not reply, because we are not allowed to have letters here. "heaven bless you both and give you the happiness you deserve! "marion." geoffrey took up the letter and tore it into minute fragments. the gentle breeze carried it over the oleanders and lemon trees like snow. down below the blue sea sparkled and the world seemed full of the pure delight of life. "geoffrey," vera said after a long pause, "are we too happy?" "is it possible to be too happy?" geoffrey replied. "well, too selfishly happy i mean. it seems awful to be so blissful when marion is full of misery. i shall never feel anything but affection for her. it seems a strange thing to say, but i mean it. poor marion." geoffrey stooped and kissed the quivering lips. "poor marion, indeed!" he said. "marion was two distinct persons. of all the shocks we ever had, her confession hurt me most of all. a creature so sweet and pure and good, a veritable angel! it is sufficient to utterly destroy one's faith in human nature. it would if i hadn't got you." the end.