OUR RETREAT—CROSSING THE BORDERLAND OF TIBET—A STRANGE ACCOUCHEMENT—SPORT—PONIES SHOT.

On the following morning we commenced our retirement, followed by a large body of Tibetans, armed with matchlocks and spears. Most of them were very dirty-looking little fellows, with long black locks, strongly reminding one of some of Punch's "Prehistoric Peeps." Their guns, which we examined, consisted of a long smooth-bore barrel, roughly fastened on to a stock, with a wooden prong on which to rest the gun when firing.

At the corner of this nullah, where it joined the main Rundore valley, was a small nomad encampment called Kerinagar. These people lived in some very dirty and dilapidated old tents, and possessed a small amount of grain and a few sheep, but the prices they demanded for them were high. Close by was a hill called Chotenchenbo, conspicuous amongst a chain of others. The hill is probably volcanic, as these nomads informed us that every month much noise was emitted from the summit, which has so worked upon their imaginations that they hold it in the deepest veneration, and on the 15th day of each month numbers of people from the surrounding district come to worship and propitiate the spirit of the mountain.

We found it heartrending work having to retrace our steps to the Napu La again, and in order to waste as little time as possible, and reach new ground, we made long marches, testing our animals to the utmost. Certainly there is a shorter road to Lanak La crossing over the Serai La and cutting off a corner. But here again we were foiled, for the men we sent on ahead to discover the possibility of going that way reported the pass to be deep in snow and absolutely impassable for ponies and mules. As we marched along this valley we had more leisure for shikar, as our surveying, etc., had already been completed. Malcolm knocked over an antelope, and being alone at the time, hallaled the animal himself; but our followers, being filled with pride and mutton, declared that nothing on earth would induce them to eat the meat, for it had not been hallaled by one after their own religion. Little did they dream at the time how, before very long, they would have to change their minds and be a little less particular. Our four nomad guides thoroughly enjoyed their frugal feast, as they sat round a fire of droppings, boiling what meat we gave them in a small pot, while the bones themselves, after having scraped off every particle of meat and skin from them, they broke between two stones, and ate the marrow raw, just as it was, without any boiling or stewing.

This was the last occasion on which we saw anything of our big dog Tundu. He wasn't going over that Napu La again, and having had a royal repast over portions of the slain antelope, he perhaps imagined that if he remained where he was there would be an equally big meal every evening. Nearly a year after this desertion of Tundu we learnt, when we were back in India again, that this dog had turned up one day at the Residency in Leh, where Capt. Trench was living, in somewhat reduced condition. He must have found his way back of his own accord over three hundred miles. Our little fox terrier bitch Ruby had no hesitation in re-crossing the Napu La, for nothing on earth would have induced her to remain with the nomads, amongst whom she had made her presence most obnoxious.

We made a long, toilsome march over the pass again, down to the entrance of the gorge, close by Lake Treb. There we found two small pools of fresh water close to our camp, but no grass whatever, so there was nothing left for us but to lessen our loads by doling out a pound of grain all round and three bags of bhoussa.

During the recrossing of this pass, there were a few of the animals who were unable to keep pace with the majority, necessitating one of the men being left behind to bring them on. This was the first experience of many such delays we were about to meet with during the next few months.

In this gorge we picked up some curiously-pointed stones, relics, perhaps, of a bygone age.

Owing to the great care we took of our animals when recrossing the Napu La, they were better off as regards sore backs and galls than we could have anticipated. Their chief ailment showed itself in the shoulder, at the point where the front ends of the saddle terminated. The shoulders used to swell from the irritation caused, and matter would form, yet there appeared to be but very little pain attached to it, and after the swelling had broken, and the place had healed, the animal never suffered again from the same cause. When possible, we used to change the palan with the wooden saddle of another animal, and in some cases averted the evil altogether. There is no doubt, with properly padded palans so as to prevent the ends from pressing against the shoulders, or if the ends themselves were bevelled off, there would be none of these sore shoulders at all. Our sore backs up to the present time were practically nil.

As we marched northwards along the eastern shore of our old friend Lake Treb, shut in on one hand by the mountains, and on the other by the water, the sun's morning rays beat down with surprising warmth at this height of just under 16,000 feet, and finding no fresh water running into the lake we were tempted to test the water of Treb itself. It turned out to be far less saltish than that on the other side of the lake, and on giving our ponies and mules free access to the water's edge they drank the precious liquid eagerly. The four guides informed us that the nomads frequently bring their ponies to the lake to drink the water for its medicinal purposes. It was more than ever a wonder to us to find the water very nearly fresh, for along the banks there lay a white crust of saline particles resembling snow, and when the wind blew, a cloud of this fine white powder was raised, not at all unlike sea spray. In some places close to the edge was a layer of ice.

At nightfall we halted by the northern edge of this lake by a fresh water spring. Here we found numerous Brahminis and a few geese, and a fair amount of antelope dwelt in the hills close by.

That evening the wind blew with sufficient force to create considerable waves in the lake. The water itself was of dark Prussian blue, its colour being intensified by the background of snow mountains and the last rays of the setting sun. This grand sight, together with the clouds of fine salt, reminded one vividly of the sea itself. Our ponies and mules were let loose all the night long, but as no other grass could be seen, excepting what was close to the spring, they had no occasion to stray; besides, they had really not recovered from the effects of the useless double crossing of the Napu La.

We left the lake behind us blessed with another brilliant morning, the sun again becoming intensely hot about 8 or 9 o'clock. At this time, we used to find this the hottest hour of the day, before the wind had come; then, with the rising wind, clouds were very often blown over too, making the middle of the day sometimes quite chilly. After sunset again the wind would drop, and every star would shine out clearly and brightly.

This same day, the 29th May, we reached the foot of the eastern side of the pass, called Lanak La, the very same pass that Bower had crossed some five years ago, when, first of explorers in this direction, he made his famous journey across Tibet, passing a few miles north of Lhassa. We found fairly good grass growing here, the best, in fact, we had come across since leaving Niagzu. We decided, therefore, to stop a day and give our transport a chance to recover their strength, especially as on that very evening two ponies and one mule had failed to reach camp. Our casualties were already beginning in earnest.

It was now a full month since the day when our caravan, under Shahzad Mir, had started from Leh for the Pangong Lake. They had only traversed 397 miles and were already beginning to give way, yet we had only just reached the borderland of Tibet, for Lanak La separates Ladakh from Tibet, and our journey across this country only commenced from here. Our store of grain and bhoussa was now reduced to thirteen maunds of grain and twenty maunds of bhoussa, while nearly a month's rations of the men had been consumed. That evening there were twenty-four degrees of frost, and little Ruby, who during her life had only felt the severity of an Indian winter, begged for a warm seat, and was allowed one on my knees beneath a thick fur-lined coat, while we made our evening repast. Her appreciation of this comfortable bed she signified by giving birth to five pups. Three of these little beggars we soon put out of their misery, and after the first day Ruby would have nothing to do with the remaining couple. They were placed in a box well protected from any wind or cold, placed between some bags of bhoussa on the back of a quiet mule. Ruby, however, would only condescend to cross Tibet in this lordly fashion for one day. Her nose was outside the box all throughout the march, with no consideration for her two little pups. On the second march she jumped out altogether, for she far more enjoyed trotting along by our sides and putting her nose into every little hole with the chance of finding shikar.

On the morning after our arrival at the foot of Lanak La, we woke up with the astounding news that our four nomad guides had deserted, with what object it was difficult to imagine. We had intended before parting with them to have given them some slight remuneration, for they had been willing helpers, and had proved themselves useful to us in many ways.

On leaving this place, we wanted, if possible, to strike off a route which is called the Polu road, running in a northerly direction into Turkistan, and after following this road for a few days to strike due east again.

Our men, however, seemed more in favour of crossing the Lanak La into Ladakh, and finding a way from thence into Turkistan, and thence across to China. An idea of this kind we would not entertain for a moment, inasmuch as we should have at once given up the object of our expedition. They enumerated the amount of supplies that had already been consumed, and were anxious to travel as far as Khotan, and lay in a fresh store before making for China. We explained to them the distance we were from Khotan, and the idiocy of adopting such a measure, and reassured them that as long as we had guns and ammunition there was no need to fear of ever running short of food, and even if we did that we could easily strike north again at any moment, and reach Turkistan in a very short time. Fortunately, that same day, when Malcolm was away spying out the country, he shot a yak, and as one of the muleteers was at hand to hallal the beast, he and his comrades were enabled to feast on all the tit-bits they fancied to their heart's content, helping considerably to put them in a better frame of mind.

At daybreak, the man who remained behind with the mule and two ponies, came into camp with the former, declaring that the ponies were too weak to go any further. Not wishing to lose any animals so early in our trip, we sent back other men with grain, but they too returned, corroborating what had already been told us by the first man. As we could not leave them to die slowly in that cold, bleak land, a poor return for the good service they had done for us, we sent Shahzad Mir on a stout pony with a carbine to go and shoot them. His journey was, however, unnecessary, for he found that both the ponies had already died.

Whenever a mule or pony lagged behind it was our custom to leave a man or two men with them, as well as clothing and food for both; but in nine cases out of ten this arrangement was a waste of labour, for if an animal is incapable of carrying a load any further, the most satisfactory and economical way is to shoot the poor brute, unless there is at one's disposal time to halt for three or four days by some good grass, giving it a chance of recovering some of its lost strength. Without being able to do this, an animal will be driven along for several days carrying no load, and at the same time, it must be remembered, he is being fed up with more than his full share of grain, which the other animals are carrying, in the hope that he will recover sufficiently to earn his keep. When once they have given in, and there is no chance of a halt whereby to recoup, it is false economy to drive them along any further. Yet we did this over and over again, to our own detriment, for one forms a great attachment for such patient and long-suffering animals as our mules and ponies proved themselves to be.

The district of Lanak La is a good shooting-ground for yak and antelope, and it would well repay a sportsman shooting in Ladakh to quietly pop over the frontier and enjoy his sport in secrecy.