CHAPTER II.

HINDU TEMPLE, SRINAGAR.

The first thing I learnt here was that, if I wanted breakfast at 8.30, it must be ordered for 6 o'clock, which lesson saved me a vast amount of trouble and impatience in doing all other business in Srinagar. My second lesson learnt was to believe nobody, however sincere they might appear to be, for these vendors are for ever plotting and scheming against one another for the sake of gaining the merest trifle, and many of them, who are seemingly bosom friends, are in reality the most unscrupulous enemies, andvice versâ. My time was spent in bargaining and purchasing goods from men of this description.

It was our intention here to have collected, if possible, some good mules and ponies for transport, and send them up to Leh, which would be our starting-point. But theroute was at this time of the year impassable by reason of heavy falls of snow. All our transport, therefore, had to be bought in Leh itself. There was plenty to do at Srinagar, nevertheless, in fitting out the expedition in other ways, and in endeavouring to pick up some muleteers, as it is not always easy to pick up good men at Leh to accompany one on a trip of this description.

One day I visited the Tibetan serai which lies a little lower down the river, to see whether I could get some Yarkandi saddles for our mules, although it seemed rather ridiculous to purchase these before the animals. I was under the wrong impression that they were not obtainable in Leh. They are made of coarse grass or reeds, covered with sacking, with soft munnah over the part that rests on the animal's neck and shoulder, costing from eight to ten rupees each when complete. They have the advantage over the wooden saddle, as mules can roll with these on their backs, and they are, besides, easily repaired, and can have holes cut into them, or otherwise shaped, so as to relieve any pressure on the tender part of a sore back.

Whilst engaged in getting these saddles mended up, I fell in with a man called Tokhta, who was clever at shoeing, and as he seemed willing to come with me I at once engaged him. He was a Yarkandi man, and had travelled in Turkistan.

ON THE RIVER, SRINAGAR.

It is a great saving of time and trouble on the march to have loads so arranged that they can be easily loaded and unloaded. Most of the things were therefore placed into yakdans, which are light boxes about 2 ft. × 1 ft. 3 in. × 1 ft., but can be made to order in other sizes. They are covered with leather, and fitted on the outside with a pair of buckles and stout leather straps. Our beds, too, were composed of yakdans, with two iron sockets in each, to hold two iron rings. Into these were placed the two bamboo poles that held the bed. These yakdans can be bought cheaper, stronger, and lighter at Peshawar. Ialso bought 120 sets of shoes with 1,000 spare nails, and shoeing tools for the mules and ponies, and for our followers four maunds of rice (a maund equals about eighty pounds), a maund of dal, thirty pounds of tea, salt, pepper, curry powder, and hot spices. In the shape of presents we bought watches, pistols, knives, rings, and some saffron which is made from the dried stigmas of theCrocus sativus, and is highly esteemed as a dye by the Tibetans, especially by the Lamas. A few days later, Malcolm joined me, bringing his share of stores, etc., and together we bought the warmest clothing we could find, underclothing of lambs' wool, thick woollen socks, double soled and heeled, thick puttoo suits, fur-lined caps and cloaks, and fur-lined sleeping bags. We wore the regulation infantry ammunition boots. For shelter we bought five tents, all double twilllined. Two of these were for ourselves, one for our cook and servant, one for our sub-surveyor, and one for the muleteers. These were small and light, and the whole of them would not have equalled more than a mule load. I have seen some tents lined with warm cloth such as puttoo, but this is not so effective in keeping out a keen wind as the closer-woven twill. We found iron pegs answered our purpose, excepting when the ground was too sandy; on these occasions we used to tie the ropes to one of the handles of an ammunition box or yakdan.

DUFFADAR SHAHZAD MIR, 11TH BENGAL LANCERS.

One morning, in the midst of making these preparations, there was a sudden rush and hullaballoo, for a fire had broken out in some adjacent buildings, and I was invited by many excited vendors to go and visit the scene. The police station was in flames, and thousands of natives were engaged in passing up from hand to hand chatties or small earthenware pots from the rivers edge, whilst the bhisties or water carriers were running madly about in every direction with their skins full of water. The police, who had lost their wits, were idle onlookers, but standing on a brick wall forty feet high was a fine muscular man wielding a massive beam, with which he was beating the roof of the burning building, with what object it was impossible to say. I was nevertheless struck by his courage, and inquired who this hero might be, and felt somewhat anxious for his safety; but when they told me he was my dhobie, or laundress, my fear for him was lost in the greater anxiety for my clothes which he had only that very morning received, and I at once took steps to get him to a safer footing, and left the fire to burn out as it pleased. With Malcolm came one Shahzad Mir, Duffadar, 11th Bengal Lancers, a man who had travelled before with Captain Younghusband, and who had done work on the Pamir Commission. He was a great addition to our party, chiefly as a sub-surveyor, and was keen on the job. Through him I was enabled to pick upanother man called Shukr Ali, who had also been with Captain Younghusband. He was a tall, dark fellow of cheery countenance, and was anxious to make a little money to support his family living somewhere in Ladakh.

SHUKR ALI.

During all this time we received every kind of assistance from the Resident, Captain Trench, who presented us with a huge watch-dog called Tippoo. Tippoo unfortunately had to be chained up day and night, for when allowed to go loose he invariably seized on the first native who came in his way. In consequence of this imprisonment he quicklybecame footsore when compelled to march, and took up a new home with the first Nomads we came across.

On April 5th Malcolm left me at Srinagar to complete the arrangements and to wait for the passport, about which there had been so serious a hitch that it seemed doubtful whether we should be able to start on our journey at all. He left with a small flotilla of three boats to carry some fifty coolie loads of luggage, together with Shahzad Mir and Tokhta, who bade many farewells, mingled with callings to their god, to the large crowd of friends gathered on the shore to see the start. It was calculated that on the following day they would reach the village of Gunderbul, lower down the river, and from thence collect coolies and ponies and make their way to Leh, the capital of Ladakh, and the starting-point of our expedition.

BALTAL—LEH—I REJOIN MALCOLM—THE CHINESE PASSPORT ARRIVES.

Five days after Malcolm's departure, that is, on the 10th April, news reached me that the passport would shortly be forwarded; upon this I at once embarked with the intention of reaching Leh as soon as possible after him. All things had to be settled up before leaving, and Shukr Ali was installed as cook for the journey instead of Malik, who had declined to go but had produced his bill. Amongst the items mentioned in it was an iron brush, which at first was a puzzler, but after all it turned out to be not such a bad name to designate a "rasp." His last request was that I might give him some more backshish, for he said he had not even made a single pie out of the numerous articles he had bought for us! The following morning, awaking in the boat, I found we had arrived at Manasbal, where three ponies and ten coolies sufficed to carry the remainder of our luggage, and we were soon wending our way up the glorious Sind valley. The morning was still and close, with small light clouds resting on the hills, while a fine haze enveloped all which might have augured a bright summer's day or the reverse. After fourteen miles Kangan was reached, where our transport was changed for seven fresh ponies, and the village of Goond, another fourteen miles, that same evening soon after dark. Although no provisions were procurable at that time, I found shelterunder a shed wherein to put up my bed, but sleep was a failure, as my two dogs Tippoo and Ruby saw or imagined they saw a stranger every moment and barked accordingly. Rain poured all the next day, so that I could not push on further than to Gagangir, and was glad to find a house there made of mud and wood to rest in. It would have been very hard for the coolies to have toiled further that day, as the road for the next six miles led through deep snow, where, too, avalanches were feared from the mountains which rose precipitously from either bank of the stream we should have to follow. I therefore made the best of a halt, and having purchased a sheep for two rupees and a hen for seven annas, made a royal repast. The next day, after a wet march, we reached the region of snow, and put up at a small hut at Sonamerg. This place, although consisting of only a few small wooden huts, nevertheless boasts of a state telegraph and post-office. From here the road was deep in snow, upon which locomotion became more difficult every hour. I stopped for the night at a place called Baltal, well known to the many readers of Knight's interesting book, "Where Three Empires Meet." Here I found that two officers had taken up their abode, having pitched their tents inside one of the stone and wooden buildings, the one of course which admitted least snow and water. There they were seated, with big boots, ulsters, and umbrellas, and had been practically in this position for the last three days, and in every likelihood would remain there for a good many more; worse than that, it was probable that I should be added to the party. I did not envy them when they boasted that they were the oldest inhabitants of the place. The coolies lay together for the sake of warmth around small fires beside the buildings, having to take turns to sally forth and collect the wood.

THE GLACIERS, SONAMERG.

Baltal lies at the foot of the Zoji La pass, and these men had not any wish to attempt to cross it while the weatherwas stormy, for avalanches at such times are most dangerous in those parts, and they were warned by the death, only ten days previously, of two post runners. There seemed, indeed, small chance of starting on the morrow as I sat down to enjoy a much appreciated dinner given me by these two old inhabitants. As I retired for the night we were, therefore, surprised and rejoiced at seeing once again some stars, and still more did we rejoice when, at 6a.m.on a perfectly clear, still morning, so refreshing after the last few days of storm and darkness, the three of us, leading the caravan and followed by some sixty coolies, began the ascent of the pass. It was certainly hard work for these poor fellows, who, with a load of some fifty or sixty pounds, had to climb over the masses of snow, the result of the recent avalanches, and make a road for themselves, when, as often as not, at each step they sank up to their waists, all, too, for the small prize of four annas! Although the journey to the top of the Zoji La was only about two miles, we took three hours to get there. That day we were twelve and a half hours in marching sixteen miles to Metaiun, having made a short halt at the small posting place of Machahoi. At night I found a small hut eight feet square, but was forced to wait outside in the cold while my dinner was being cooked, for in this abode there was no exit for the smoke whatever, and suffocation might have resulted had I remained inside. From hence we journeyed on through the snow to Dras, taking again nine hours to do the fifteen miles. At this important stage, provisions, fresh coolies, and all manner of things can be bought, and letters can be had at the post-office if they have arrived; but on this occasion none had been received for five days, at the end of which time the news of the death of the two post runners was corroborated. From thence fresh coolies were to carry the loads, and the poor fellows who had done the work for the last five days weredismissed to return to their villages in their own time. This journey, too, they had done most pluckily and cheerily, over mountains deep in snow and a pass over 11,000 feet high, amidst almost incessant falling snow or rain, with no adequate shelter at night time, all for two and a half rupees apiece! At this small sum, too, they expressed much pitiful delight, for it was a rupee in excess of their real fare.

FIRST SIGNS OF BUDDHISM BEYOND LEH, AT MULBECK.

The fresh relay of coolies carried my baggage in two more days to Kargil, passing through Tashgam, a pretty little spot with a small plantation of willows, but the beauty of the place was somewhat marred by the snow that still lay about. At Kargil there is good accommodation, and supplies are plentiful; there are, too, some little nondescript shops. Thenceforth ponies replace coolies for carrying the baggage, each pony carrying a load of about 150 pounds. From Kargil the road ascends the hills and leads over rolling ground, while the adjacent hill tops become rounded, and the general appearance of the country is somewhat dreary. After twenty miles, the village of Mulbeck is reached, where one first sees the small monasteries of the Lamas perched on some pinnacle, and the piles of flat stones with their sacred writings, called mānés. From this point the road became heavy, owing to the mud, and soon after midday we came to the village of Kharbu, where I learnt that further on the mud was yet deeper and thicker, and on the rising ground I found the snow even worse. About five o'clock I arrived at another small village at the foot of a pass. Here the men demanded a halt, for they said it would be impossible to cross it that evening. Despite their earnest entreaties and clasped hands, I decided to push on. Soon after this darkness set in, before even we had reached the summit, and a biting wind, with driving snow, made our progress slow, so that at one time I almost regretted not having paid attention to their supplications. Just as we were about tobegin the descent, one of the baggage ponies completely gave way and collapsed in the snow. This necessitated a redistribution of the loads, many moans and groans, and very nearly resulted in some frost-bites.

In darkness we stumbled down the mountain side, inwardly hoping that no other pony would collapse. As soon as we had descended low enough to be free from the clouds of driving sleet, we were helped by the faint light of the moon, and eventually at a late hour arrived at Lamayuru. Fatigue and a short night's rest disinclined the men for another early start, although the march from this place is perhaps the finest and most pleasant of any. The road follows a winding stream running merrily between grand massive cliffs and rocks, till at Khalsi it crosses the River Indus, where a small native guard is maintained, thence through Nurla on to Saspul. From here I had resolved to reach Leh in one day, so instructed my factotum, Shukr Ali, to urge on the ponies as fast as possible. This he certainly did with such a will that in four hours we had reached Nimo, while none of the pony drivers were able to keep pace; consequently at Nimo the ponies were without masters. Here we again changed animals, and starting on ahead of the loaded ones and mounted on a rat of a pony, about sunset I first gained sight of this redoubtable Leh. The first conspicuous object was the Lama monastery, and quite naturally too, for, as usual with Lama monasteries, it was perched on a hill of commanding position, while Leh itself, at first appearance, looked small and insignificant. With my goal in sight, I was not long in finding a way through the narrow winding paths, past the missionary quarters, to the rest bungalow, having been twelve days on the road. Here Malcolm was waiting for me, having arrived two days previously, and we at once set about buying our mules and ponies and in collecting our muleteers, for at present we had only Shukr Ali and Tokhta.We were told by every one that at this time of the year it would be most difficult to buy mules, so we were extremely fortunate in falling in with a merchant who had lately arrived from Lhassa, and who was willing to sell us fifteen. Although they were not in as fat a condition as they should be at the commencement of a journey, they were nevertheless hard, and formed the nucleus of our transport. Besides these, we were only able to pick up seven other mules, one here and one there, and were compelled to be satisfied with ponies for the remainder of our transport. These we found in no way equal to the mules for an expedition of this kind. If ponies have to be taken, the best are those which come from the district of Lhassa. Of these we had two, while the rest were Ladakhis.

BRIDGE OVER THE SURV RIVER AT KARGIL, ON THE ROAD TO LEH. BRIDGE ON CANTILEVER PATTERN.

In Leh three distinct kinds of mules are obtainable, namely, Yarkandis, Ladakhis, and Lhassa or Chang Tanis; of these the former are by far the most taking in appearance, and are mostly very big, standing 14·2 to 15 hands. They are, however, unfitted for a long journey when grass is likely to be scarce, and only a limited quantity of grain can be carried. The majority of these mules are black in colour. The Ladakhi mules are mostly brown; they are generally extremely hardy, able to stand great cold, and to do a lot of work on inferior food. Unfortunately they are hard to obtain, as only a very small number are bred, and some are too small to be much good. The best of all are the Chang Tanis, bought in Leh; the very fact of their being there shows that they have been able to perform a long march with loads on their backs; they require little or no grain, and are very hardy. Yarkandi merchants, as a rule, give their mules loads of 200 lbs. to 240 lbs. and about 4 lbs. of grain daily; the Lhassa merchants put about 160 lbs. on their backs, and, when grass is plentiful, give no grain. Altogether we mustered twenty-two mules, costing on an average 129 rupees each, and seventeen ponies at aboutsixty-one rupees each. All of them we branded on the hind quarters to guard against any attempt at fraud after the purchase. In collecting these animals and our men we were assisted by Lala Bishan Dass, Wazir of Leh. He also helped us in many other ways, and as he spoke excellent English, matters were somewhat simplified. Besides the two men already mentioned, namely, Shukr Ali and Tokhta, we impressed into our service six other muleteers, four of them being Argoons, who are really half-castes, arising from the merchants of Turkestan making short marriages with the Ladakhi women; also two Ladakhis and one Yarkandi. Besides these eight men and our sub-surveyor, Shahzad Mir, we also took as servant a Ladakhi named Esa Tsareng, whom we simplified into Esau, and refer to him afterwards by that name. This man had for some little time listened to the doctrines of the good missionaries of Leh, but eventually had reverted again to the Buddhist religion. For all that he proved himself throughout to be a most faithful servant and a useful and clever man, for he could read and write the Tibetan characters. We had one other follower, an Argoon named Lassoo. He was a very neatly made little man, cheery at all times. Besides being an excellent cook, he was also a first-rate muleteer, tailor, barber, carpenter; in fact, there was hardly any capacity in which he did not shine.

SHAHZAD MIR AND OUR TEN MEN.

The muleteers soon gave evidence of what sort of men we had to deal with. They were an avaricious lot of fellows, and in a body refused to come with us under twenty rupees a month each, and this amount in actual wages we were unwilling to give, for we learnt that former travellers had paid men of this description fifteen rupees, and we were anxious not to be accused by those who might come after us of "raising the price." Promises of high backshish to all good workers carried no weight with such men, till at last we dismissed the whole crowd of them. At this stage ofour preparations the chances of our ever starting at all looked decidedly black—we had no men and we had no passport—still more so when we were informed that there were no other men in Leh who would go with us. Being thus cornered and time most precious, we were in the end most reluctantly obliged to take them at their own price, and having discovered in other ways the class of men we had to deal with, we inwardly reflected that the only way to meet with success would be to humour them in all they wanted, and we foresaw that if we acted otherwise no headway would be made. We also agreed to give them per diem two pounds of flour, rice, or parched ground barley, one chitak (equal to two ounces) of butter carried in skins, one-fifth of a chitak (equal to one tola) of tea, besides the curry powder, spices, salt, and pepper already mentioned,and meat when procurable. We also gave them warm clothes and boots, money to buy more, and cooking utensils. We took in all for our ten men and Shahzad Mir nine maunds of flour, four of barley, four of rice, one of dal, sufficient, providing there was no robbery, to last them nearly four and a half months. Having so far bought our animals and enlisted our men, we at once set to work to fit out all these animals, so as to be able to carry the supplies. The twelve smallest mules were provided with wooden saddles, while the remainder wore the palans; to each mule were three ropes, two for tying on the load and one spare. Each mule, too, was provided with headstall, nosebag, and picketing rope. To equip each animal in this way cost us about ten rupees a-piece. As regards food for our animals, we made sufficient bags to carry eighteen maunds of grain and twenty-eight maunds of bhoussa, or chopped straw, both of which we should be able to buy some marches out of Leh, and also at Shushal on the Pangong Lake, which we were told would be the last point where we could obtain supplies. We reckoned that on an average each animal would carry 200 pounds. Of course, some of the mules were equal to nearly 300 pounds, whilst it would have been unwise to put more than 150 pounds on some of the ponies. Thus engaged, we continued to buy our goods and superintend the work and preparations, still anxious in regard to our passport, which had not yet arrived. Amongst other things, we had to see to the cold shoeing of our ponies and mules. On the 27th April everything was in readiness to start, and we decided to send forward our caravan on the morrow slowly with easy stages under the command of Shahzad Mir as far as Shushal, twelve days' march from Leh, whilst we ourselves would wait a few more days for the passport, and follow afterwards on hired transport, making two or three marches a day. On the evening before their departure, it was arranged that a nautch shouldbe given in the rest bungalow compound, to which entertainment we were not only invited to come, but were also requested to subscribe and provide refreshment for the performers in the shape of spirits; it ended in our giving the show and their coming to it. In front of the bungalow was a small green, and in the centre of this a pile of bricks was erected to hold a number of burning logs; on one side and a few yards from this, seats were placed for ourselves, with men standing with lighted torches on either hand of us; opposite us were the local musicians—would that they had been placed at a greater distance off! On the two flanks, the inhabitants of Leh arranged themselves in several rows with the front ones sitting. Directly on our left was the well-nourished Munshi Palgez, master of the ceremonies, who, squatting on the ground with a low bench in front of him to hold the refreshments, superintended the distribution of the chang, the meat, and the chupatties.

The show commenced with half a dozen women, dressed in gay finery and bangles, moving in slow time around the fire, keeping pace together in the varied waving of their arms and swaying of their bodies. After this, each man in turn came forward and displayed his own special dance; some were of gentle mood, whilst others were frantic in their actions, and apparently dangerous with a flashing sword. The real fun was only reached when one of our own retainers, named Usman, doubtless bent upon celebrating his last evening at Leh, began his wild and lively dance. In the midst of his performance, suddenly stooping down, he seized the large pot of chang from under the very nose of the stout and all-important Palgez, who, having enjoyed every luxury of life without interruption for many years, was very nearly ending his days on the spot from mere fright at this piece of uproarious conduct. Yet Usman, not satisfied with this mirthful deed, began to dance more wildly than ever, swinging the well-filled pot at arm'slength around his head, besprinkling all the onlookers with the intoxicating liquid, till finally, being tackled by some stout men from the crowd, he was thrown heavily to the ground, and disarmed of his dangerous weapons. After this unexpected burst we retired, leaving the entertainment to wear itself out.

CHINESE PASSPORT, ONE AND A HALF FEET SQUARE.

On the morrow, the day fixed upon for the departure of our caravan, several delays occurred; some small item was always found wanting by these dilatory men. So anxious were they to delay their departure till another day, that it was nearly 3 o'clock before we could give the signal to open the gates of the serai and let out the animals, where they had been fattening since we had bought them. Thereupon there was a mighty rush, and on reaching the main thoroughfare of the bazaar, where crowds of inhabitants had gathered to view the departure, terrible confusion ensued. Some discarded their loads altogether, others rushed madly into any open door or alley that came in sight, and as they were collected, loaded, and driven on again, the crowd grew thicker and noisier. Soon after passing through the bazaar, the road makes a sharp descent, enough to baffle any further following of the crowd, nor were the sorrowing relatives of the men inclined at this spot to accompany them any longer. Here our muleteers bade a fond farewell, little suspecting that this in reality would be the very last for some of them, while a few of the more generous-hearted cast small change to the young fry. We ourselves, after riding with them till more steadiness prevailed, turned our ponies' heads again to Leh. After so much confusion, arranging, bartering, and arguing, we lived in peace and quiet for the next few days, amusing ourselves in taking heights and latitudes, and enjoying the hospitality of the good missionaries, our only excitement being the arrival of the post, with the chance of its bringing our passport. Onthe 4th May, passport or no passport, our patience had ended, and we resolved to start, for it was not desirable that our caravan should remain many days in an idle state at Shushal. We had no confidence in our men, and felt there was nothing like humouring them in all their wants,but at the same time in giving them no time to think of forming and carrying out any plot that might upset our arrangements and intentions.

MY RED CHINESE VISITING CARD, FIVE INCHES BROAD AND TEN INCHES LONG.

We hired six ponies for our remaining baggage, and ourselves mounted on two others, equipped with Government cavalry saddles, carbine bucket, wallets, and wooden stirrups, with poshteen in front and small suleetah behind, prepared to leave the bungalow. We had just been lunching with Vaughan of the Border Regiment, and Ward of the Middlesex, both of whom had come for shooting; with them we enjoyed the last hospitality, and the last conversation with our own countrymen, we were to have until the middle of next October. "Well," they remarked, as we mounted directly afterwards, "so you are off to Pekin!" "Yes," we replied, "we will start this very moment, and do our best to get there," not that we felt doubtful of our undertaking, for the bracing air, the pure clear skies, the grand and glorious mountains of Ladakh, would inspire any man with confidence and self-reliance. Fortune, too, seemed favourable that day, for at the same moment the postman entered the gate of thecompound, bringing our Chinese passport and Chinese visiting cards, the delay of which had cost us all our limited store of patience. The passport gave us free permission to travel through the provinces of Kansu, Shansi, and Shensi to Pekin, and through the New Dominion, at the same time enjoining all whom we came across to assist us and put no obstacles in our way. As we passed the kind missionaries' house, we received a hearty and last farewell, and entering the bazaar rode through it almost unobserved, for none knew of the exact time of our departure, and most of the inhabitants were enjoying repose at that time of day.

FOLLOWING THE INDUS—EGU—WAITING AT SHUSHAL—A WARNING.

It was a warm afternoon as we descended the hill already mentioned towards the River Indus. We felt full of spirits in expectation of the journey that lay before us, for great is the charm of entering an unknown country in absolute ignorance of what lies ahead. We thought perhaps we might be fortunate enough to be about to open up a land rich in minerals or pasturage, or teeming with game, for none could tell us what existed over the border land nor who lived there. We might, too, be instrumental in discovering a new and easy route into China. All these thoughts and many others were foremost in our minds, while the glory of uncertainty and the pleasure of perfect freedom, added to the success we had met with in overcoming all the initial preparations, made our hearts light that day. On the other side of the river we saw the straggling village of Shushot, and at the time I thought to myself what miserable wretches the people must be who live there with no thought of ever going beyond its precincts, such as could never attempt to make a trip like ours, or even dream of it.

On one side of the river we passed by several chortens or monuments, and the village of Shey with its ruined fort, an almost indelible sign of its former importance. This village straggled on into Tickse, which was to be our firsthalting-place. Throughout this valley we had been travelling, the young grass was just beginning to bud, and we fondly imagined the richer grass we expected to find when we crossed the frontier a few weeks later. In the fields around Tickse, men and women were busily engaged, but ceased from their labour to watch and salute us, apparently glad to see Europeans. On the hills were the houses of the Lamas. We put up at the rest-house and bought two maunds of bhoussa for one rupee and filled three of the bags we had brought with us. We used a patent weighing machine of our own, which, of course, the men of Tickse could make neither head nor tail of, nevertheless they trusted us implicitly, for they said we never cheated, but remarked that if they had had the weighing machine and we had been unable to understand it, they would have done their level best to defraud us of as much as possible. From Tickse we continued to follow the River Indus, or Tsang-po-chu, as it is called in these parts, through a large open plain and still blessed with that fine blue Ladakh sky. After easy riding for nearly ten miles, we came to the small village of Chemre. At this spot there is a road which bends sharply to the left, passing over the Chang La, La being the Tibetan word for Pass. At this time of the year, however, the pass was closed, for the snow was deep. We were therefore compelled to take a more circuitous road but still following the river.

A short distance beyond Chemre is the village of Maserung on the other and left side of the river, and almost opposite Chemre itself is the Hemis nullah, famous for its great yearly festival and still more important gathering every twelve years. The monastery up this nullah can be seen from the other side of the river just after leaving Chemre.

About noon we reached the village of Egu. The people about here and the headmen of the different places wecame to had received news of our coming, partly from our imposing caravan having passed through a few days previously, and also through rumour, which in these parts travels in a miraculous way, and, being friendly disposed and anxious to aid us (for they were under the impression that we were tremendous swells), were awaiting our arrival headed by the chief man and his attendants, all ready with their humble salutations. On this particular occasion my dignity had a great fall, for when we had approached within twenty yards of this gathering and were riding up in pomp and circumstance to receive their homage, my pony put his foot into a hidden hole, sending himself and rider spinning on their heads.

I think this unlucky coincidence somewhat damped our lordly reputation, for we had great difficulty in getting sufficient baggage animals after it, and were compelled to take yak, a slow conveyance even compared to ponies at the walk. Over the ground we were about to traverse they never made more than two miles an hour.

After another eleven miles, we came to the village of Sherwos, having about half-way noted the village of Upchi on the other side of the river, a spot worth knowing to sportsmen, for it lies at the mouth of the Gya nullah, so famous for its ovis ammon and burhel shooting. To-day we saw our first game in the shape of a few wild duck.

Anxious to push on from Sherwos, yet unable to get as far as Lickse that evening, for there were two little bridges that had to be crossed by daylight over the river, we determined to make neither of them our halting-place for the night, but to journey on and bivouac when darkness stopped us. It was a grand march, for the river here became very narrow, perhaps only ten yards broad, with a swift and busy torrent rushing through the gorge, while almost from the water's edge arose precipitous rocks some hundreds of feet, the grandeur being magnified by theuncertain light of the moon. At night-time we made our bivouac close by the waterside, and found this cleaner than some of the rest-houses we had of late frequented. From here we crossed two bridges and reached Lickse after two and a half miles, and once more re-crossing the river came to Herma, having come ten miles altogether. Here we changed our yak for new ones, ponies again being very scarce. These were the slowest going yak that ever did work for us. After six miles we passed through the village of Cunjian, as we were unable to change them there. We continued our slow march, a very trying one for these thickly-clad animals. The sun beat down with pitiless vigour upon the loaded brutes as they struggled up and down a narrow stony pathway, completely sheltered from any welcome breeze there might have been. So toilsome became the march that one poor yak carrying the instruments was actually slipping, and would have rolled down the rocky edge to destruction, had he not completely collapsed from exhaustion in a heap on the very brink. It was some time after dark before we could find a place called Gya to stop for the night, having only come eight and a half miles in six and a half hours. Here was a little cultivation, and just room to pitch tents, but no village close at hand wherefrom to get any supplies.

From here for seven miles the road is bad, stony, and hilly, and at this distance the village of Kera lies on the other bank of the river. One mile further on our yak were once more replaced by new ones at the village of Yakiki. On paying the drivers of the last lot of yak, we gave them eight annas each, that being their correct pay, yet to our surprise they showed much delight at receiving what was only due to them. This was probably owing to the fact that the few sportsmen who go up there for shooting allow their Kashmiri shikaris to pay these yakmen, and these latter being of timid and simple nature are afraid tocomplain, and are probably threatened with all sorts of punishment should they dare to tell the sahib that only half the money has been given them. After leaving this place the gorge becomes broader, and the road in consequence improves.

At six and nine miles we passed the villages of Ni and Keisir, and at the latter place were met by the Lama of Chumatang. Although this man was of portly mien, and mounted on a stout pony, he was kind enough to agree to an exchange of animals. Two miles further on we saw the village of Tiri on the other bank of the river, and a little later reached Chumatang. Supplies here were plentiful enough, and we took up six bags of bhoussa, a sheep, flour, and milk. The people were simple, kind, and ready to help us in every way. We had intended to change animals again, but, as sunset was close at hand, it was arranged that, to save time in changing the loads, we should drive on our own yak till darkness, and that the good people of Chumatang should bring on the animals we were to have the following morning, as well as some donkeys laden with wood, and a number of other articles in their own hands. We grew that evening into a large and mixed rabble; everybody was carrying or driving something for the two miles we marched, before halting for the night on a small patch of grass close to the river.

Thus far in our journey we had only seen a few gulls and some duck, so in hopes of seeing more I shouldered my gun the following morning. Plenty too, indeed, we saw, but all of them persisted in flying down the centre of the river or over the opposite bank, so that shooting them would have been a waste of birds and ammunition. This was aggravating, to speak lightly of it, when Malcolm agreed to fetch any I might shoot, should they fall on the other bank of the river. A few minutes later over came the duck again, and one falling midstream was soon carriedaway, but a second falling on the opposite bank awaited Malcolm. He, true to his word, was soon swimming in the icy water to the opposite shore, which he reached without mishap. He soon seized the duck with the intention of throwing it across to me, but falling short of his aim, the duck fell in the water, and was soon floating away after the first. To plunge a second time into the Indus and swim across it, at this time of year, and at this height, cannot easily be described, but Malcolm's frozen state on return gave me some idea of what he had undergone, all, too, to merely throw a dead duck into midstream. There was no compensation in the shape of a good supper for his swim, but we both agreed, at any rate, that shooting duck along the banks of the Indus was but a poor kind of amusement.

That morning we reached the little village of Maie, which did not seem to hold more than half a dozen men. Although no transport animals were procurable, yet supplies were plentiful. At this spot there are two roads that branch off to Shushal, the shorter or left hand one leading over the mountains. We fancied we could see the pass over which the road went, and there appeared to be but little snow there. Yet every one told us the pass was not open, and we had reluctantly to take the longer one. We came upon a herd of eight kyang, who are pretty sure heralds that there is good grass somewhere in the neighbourhood. They appeared unable to understand what we were, and allowed us to come within a hundred yards of them. After making an easy ascent, we saw a few miles off on our left hand the village of Numa, conspicuously seated on a rock, quite an important place with its numerous ponies and yak, and plentiful supplies. We loaded up the yak first, to send them on ahead of the ponies, for they won't travel as fast, especially in the middle of the day. It was a sharpish morning.

After going some ten miles the Indus became broad, resembling a lake, and about here pigeons were fairly plentiful. We agreed that we could never afford to waste a single cartridge so early on our journey, and decided to economise by endeavouring to make every shot do double execution. A chance quickly presented itself. There were two pigeons close together on the ground. "Fire away," I cried, "now's our time." "I really couldn't," said Malcolm, "they will be blown to pieces." "Never mind that," was my encouraging reply, "we shall be able to collect the bits." Immediately afterwards, off went both the barrels, and terrible to state, off went both birds too, safe and sound, only a little bit startled.

Seven miles further on we bade farewell to the river, which flowed away to the right, while our road branched off to the left, taking us to the black tents of some nomads. Where there are nomads, good grass will also be found for the grazing of their large flocks of sheep. We spent the night close to one of their encampments, and found them pleasant and hospitable enough, receiving from them dried apricots, nuts, butter, and milk. These nomads, too, have a knack of always finding a sheltered nook with a flowing stream. Although we were on that night over 14,000 feet high, we did not feel the cold at all, doubtless because we were well protected on all sides from any wind.

After leaving these people on the 10th May, we crossed over an easy pass, and then descended to more black tents, always finding the nomads civil and friendly. A little before noon we reached Shushal, the final starting-point of our expedition. Shushal lies back against the hills, five miles or so from the Pangong Lake, which is not even in sight. In the serai we found Shahzad Mir, who thus far had brought our caravan without an accident. Some of the muleteers were there, too, while the remainderwere watching over the mules and ponies out grazing in an adjacent and well-watered valley.

The first thing for us to find out was the shortest and best way over the frontier. We learnt that the ordinary route over the Marsemik La into Chang Chenmo was closed by snow, and would not be open for at least another month and a half. With the exception of this road and another one that went to Rudok, nobody knew of any other, or more correctly speaking, would own that there was another road. Rudok lies at the south-east corner of the Pangong Lake, and we knew that at Rudok a large Tibetan guard was maintained, who jealously guarded the main road to Lhassa, under the condition that should they allow any foreigners to pass that way, they would have to pay for the negligence with the loss of their heads. This year, too, they were more than ever prepared to oppose any attempt at crossing the frontier in that direction. This we considered due to thefact that only the previous year the Littledales, in their famous expedition, had camped for some days within fifty miles of the capital. To dream of taking an easier road to Rudok, and crossing the frontier at that point, was soon dismissed from our minds. Looking at a map of the country, the Pangong Lake appears to consist of two lakes joined together by a narrow strip of water, about half-way on the road to Rudok. We saw no reason why we should not be able to find a crossing over this stream, thence on to a village called Pal, and thus avoid all encounter with the Rudok men. All the headmen and any other men of Shushal who had travelled at any time in that direction were summoned to our presence and questioned about this road to Pal. For some time all vowed they had never heard of a place called Pal, but seeing that we were bent upon going there at all costs, they finally agreed that they had heard of the spot, but that it was impossible for us to get there, for the water that joined the two lakes was far too deep to ever think of crossing. Unwilling to believe any of their statements at all, we dismissed our servant Esau with a companion to ride out to this water, some twenty miles away, and find out whether it was fordable or not.

Whilst waiting for this information we laid in our stock of grain for the trip, buying it at thirty-two pounds for a rupee, and tied it up into coarse sacking, which we had made into suleetahs. We also packed our bhoussa into a smaller compass, and doctored up the few backs of the animals that had been touched up during the march from Leh; in fact, saw after every little detail we could think of.

That same night, and somewhat to our surprise, Esau returned with the news that he had been stopped some way before reaching the water by a body of twenty armed men, who sent their salaams, begging us not to try and come that way, for if we did, there would certainly be trouble. They had already heard of our departure from Leh, and knewthat we were waiting in Shushal, and were prepared to oppose any attempt we might make to cross the frontier in that direction. Under these circumstances (there was no alternative left us), we should have to journey back in a north-west direction along the shore of the Pangong Lake to Ludhkong, situated on its north-west extremity, thence travel eastwards to Niagzu, and so on by hook or crook across the frontier. We had by this time arranged our loads, and had fitted and mended the saddles where required, and were ready in all other respects to leave Shushal.

We gave orders to start for Ludhkong at 7 o'clock on the morning of the 12th, and, in order to save our own transport as long as possible, we hired seventeen more yak and ponies, making a total, with our own, of fifty-five animals. On the morning above mentioned, the baggage lay outside the serai in heaps and anyhow. The serai itself was a small, square yard with rooms built around it. We had hoped, having placed everything outside where there was oceans of room, to have arranged the loads systematically. This, unfortunately, was not in accordance with the way of doing things amongst our muleteers; but as we felt there was still a discontented mood prevailing underneath a smiling surface, we, too, smiled outwardly in return, and allowed them for the present to do as they chose.

Each of the muleteers had under his own charge five ponies or four mules, and each of them, with the willing help from the people of Shushal, seized upon whatever baggage he fancied the most and loaded up his own animals. Although all this was badly done, it was certainly done quickly, and we had very soon made a start.

MUN—LUDHKONG—TOUCHING FRIENDSHIP OF MULE AND PONY—NIAGZU.

The road for the first couple of miles was fairly good over rising ground when the lake first came into sight, and an extensive view permitted the taking of several bearings to distant hills. The lake looked blue, clear, and inviting, bounded on the further side by a fine range of mountains running into snow-capped peaks.

Besides obtaining a view of the lake, we also saw our flock of sheep, which had left Shushal the day previously, and very shortly overtook them. We were surprised and somewhat disheartened at finding the condition they were in. Two of them were already being carried in the arms of the shepherds, which will at once prove that our mutton was not of the fattest description. The remainder of the flock were going along so weakly that it seemed doubtful whether we should see any of them again. This disaster was a great blow to our commissariat arrangements. We had at one time even reckoned that our sheep might carry loads of about fifty or sixty pounds, but finding that would be impracticable, we decided to drive them along with us day after day, keeping them as a reserve, only making use of them when our own supplies began to run short and game was scarce. But now two of them were knocked up after going only a couple of miles. At this time of the year, sheep are naturally in poor condition,for they have picked up but scanty feeding during the winter months.

On this morning there was a strong north wind blowing in our teeth as we rode on ahead of our caravan, and after five more miles followed the sandy, stony shore of the lake.

As we were anxious not to be too far away from our caravan, we sought a sheltered nook by the edge of the lake, and, dismounting, allowed our ponies to graze on the little grass that grew close by, while we ourselves, seizing the opportunity, pulled out the kettle from our saddle-bags and soon had the water boiling for our breakfast. The kettle might as well have remained where it was, for here we learnt our first lesson in regard to many of the lakes of these regions, so pleasing to the eye, but deceptive as to their use. Our tea was so brackish as to defy any attempt at drinking it.

In the meantime our baggage had passed by, so we rode on over somewhat heavy and stony ground to overtake them, and before nightfall reached Mun, a small village with some cultivation around it, forming a kind of oasis in this stony, sandy country. We found here a good serai wherein to put our animals for the night, and a room for ourselves and men. There was no more transport to be had here, but the usual supplies being plentiful, we gave our animals two pounds of grain each and as much bhoussa as they could eat.

The following morning, although we were able to better arrange the loads, yet there was nothing satisfactory about them. Still favoured with the north wind we continued along the shore of the lake. Thus far we had found the water absolutely devoid of life, but after twelve miles we came to the end of the lake, and found there the only inhabitants living on it, a few gulls and a single Brahmini duck. At this spot, too, the place is called Kaba, and there is another more direct road branching off to the left to Leh.

Three more miles over deepish sand brought us to Ludhkong, the end of our march. This was the last place where any kind of supplies could be got. There was no grain here, but we were able to get plenty of bhoussa, some milk, sheep, goats, and a limited number of hired yak. The place consisted of a few stone houses built by the banks of a small fresh-water stream. Around on all sides were hills and snow-topped mountains; the land was barren, for there was no grazing ground at all.

The baggage arrived in good time, and we were glad of the afternoon for overhauling everything, doctoring our animals, and taking heights. We had, besides, to make up our minds as to which way we were going next. This was our great difficulty, and at first we could induce nobody to show us. We knew passes would have to be crossed, but as to their height, and as to water, grass, and camping grounds, we were in total ignorance.

Towards evening we learnt that, should we decide to proceed further, we could only go by one road and in this case should have to cross two passes, and that we should find no grass or water until the third day on arrival at Niagzu. This was certainly gloomy intelligence, and a bad lookout for our mules and ponies. Here they were about to go three days without grass or water before even they had crossed the frontier into Tibet. How could they ever cross the whole of Tibet and China? It was absolutely cruel to think of it. In addition to this, our hired animals had only agreed to come with us as far as Ludhkong. The only solution out of the difficulty was to persuade the owners of them to come on further with us, and this they were unwilling to do, for none of them relished three days without water and grass. By promise of higher rewards we finally overcame their scruples, and with the assistance of the Kadir who, by orders from the Wazir, had come all the way from Leh to smooth matters for us, we were enabledto hire more yak at Ludhkong itself, making a grand total of thirty-four hired animals. These were to come with us to Niagzu. As to our sheep, we came to an agreement with the men of Ludhkong, by which they were to take possession of our flock of sheep, which were coming on behind us, and were to fit us out with a fresh flock of sheep and goats, receiving an adequate remuneration for the bargain.

Things now began to look rosier for us. We arranged to put full loads on these hired animals and allow them to travel to Niagzu in their own time, while we ourselves, putting small loads on some of our own animals and none on others, would journey on in advance and cover the distance as fast as possible.

We reckoned that by leaving Ludhkong early one morning we could reach Niagzu the following evening. There we knew both grass and water were plentiful, and our own animals, while awaiting the arrival of the hired ones, would be fattening up and enjoying a rest. After seeing that all was ready for an early start the next day, we turned in for the night with light hearts.

On awakening the following morning, the first sight that greeted our eyes was that of our original hired yak being driven back in a body the way they had come, without any one attempting to stop them. It was fortunate we had woken up in good time that morning, as we were in time to prevent their straying far. We soon had them back again, and to prevent further attempt at desertion, at once set about the loading up of the two lots of transport. In spite of our instructions and arrangements the previous night, there was considerable confusion, and with the class of men we had to deal with, it was unavoidable. All as usual seize upon the nearest animal to load it up with the baggage nearest at hand, entirely regardless as to whether the load is suitable in weight or size to the animal, or whether it is required to go on with the party in advance.Until the muleteers were quite under our thumb, it was impossible to make them do otherwise.

We carried a glass lantern to hold a candle, and being anxious to save it from being broken, it was carried in the hand by one of the hired yakmen, but as to one of our own muleteers carrying a lantern for a few miles! why, he had never done such a contemptible thing in all his life, and wasn't going to do it now!

To avoid the chance of our hired transport making a second attempt to turn back, we left Shahzad Mir and Esau to bring them on, as well as our two most reliable muleteers, Bakr Hadji and Shukr Ali, and after saying good-bye to the Kadir who had done so much good service for us, and to the kind people of Ludhkong, we started on our waterless march.

We soon took a turning half-right, over some good grazing land, and then began an easy ascent of the Porandu Pass for about five miles. When we had nearly reached the summit, we stopped to boil our kettle with some snow at hand, and to have our breakfast. Below us we could see first of all our own mules and ponies, while right away in the distance our glasses showed us our flock of sheep and goats and our hired yak, and Shahzad Mir with the man carrying the plane table.

It was not encouraging, after having crossed this pass, to find the road bending still more round to the right, following the direction of the shore of the Pangong Lake, and we calculated that if we continued to zigzag in the way we had done since leaving Leh, we should stand a chance of reaching China in two or three years' time.

Our muleteers manifested anything but a willing spirit. As we were riding on ahead, we were annoyed to find the caravan had halted some way back, of their own accord, and from their general demeanour we concluded they were contemplating whether the journey they were about tolaunch forth on was really good enough or not. We, too, halted; this seemed to be a turning-point in their plans, for they soon began to move on again.

As we ascended the stony nullah, sleet began to fall, encouraging the darkness before its due time, and compelling us to take the best shelter we could find for the night. Close by we found a suitable place—a sudden dip in the nullah bordered by heavy overhanging rocks, with a fair stretch of level ground at their foot. Here we drove four stout pegs into the ground, with strong ropes fastened to them, making two parallel lines; to one of these lines we picketed the mules, and to the other the ponies, with the exception of a certain black mule and a certain white pony. This couple had lived together practically for all their lives; in fact, at the time when we were buying our transport in Leh, we had to be satisfied with taking both of them or none at all, for the merchant who owned them was as fond of them as they were of one another, and rather than see them separated he would lose the chance of making his profit on one of them.

This remarkable pair also found a warm spot in our hearts, and we did all we could to keep the white pony in health and strength. They always marched together, grazed together, and were never apart. On one occasion when the pony was showing signs of weakness, we decided to ride it, for by dint of walking a good deal and stopping two or three times during the march, in grassy spots, we managed to save our riding ponies considerably, and, we thought, the black mule would manage without his friend for a few hours; but nothing of the sort—as soon as we rode away with the white pony, immediately after him came the black mule, load and all. We felt more convinced than ever that should the white pony die at any time from exhaustion, his faithful friend would soon follow after him; this doubled our anxiety to keep up the strength of thewhite pony, for he was in no way equal to the black mule. To tell now of the fate of this dear old couple would, perhaps, be anticipating events.

Near our camp there was not a vestige of grass, so we had to fall back upon our limited supply of bhoussa and grain. Of course the mules and ponies had to go waterless, although we were able to collect sufficient snow for the use of our men and ourselves.

We had already turned to our left again, and had ceased to follow the Pangong Lake, but had continued to make a long ascent. On leaving our encampment by the rocks, up, up we went; a blinding sleet blew in our faces, making it hard to see more than a few yards. At the top of this pass, which was called the Ann Pass, sickness from the unaccustomed height in no way sweetened the temper of some of our men, and we found no pleasure attached to the operation of finding out the height of this pass with the hypsometer, with a temperature just about freezing-point. We hurried down the other side of this comfortless pass, and for the rest of the day marched along a rocky, stony pathway, amidst a continuous snowstorm, when suddenly, on a bend to our left, the whole aspect was entirely changed. The heavy clouds gave way to a warm and genial sun. Thick brushwood and green grass replaced the sharply-angled rocks and those countless loose stones that lay about everywhere, as though they were a bore to themselves and to all others. A clear stream, too, ran merrily through this pleasant spot. No wonder the kyang and antelope had chosen this as one of their favourite districts to wander into, and the hares had grown fat and multiplied.

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