ANOTHER CHULA—MOUNTAINS—A QUEER ILLUSION—STRANGE VOICES—WE FIND WE ARE DESCENDING—A TIBETAN CAMP—ESAU SENT AS AN AMBASSADOR—AN INVITATION.

The 1st of September was a dull morning with a very biting east wind, but our two invalids had been cured by means of Cockle's, and all of us felt relieved when we woke up to find we were on the right side of the river. I am afraid that our two sick men would not have recovered, had we delayed the crossing of the torrent the evening before. During our morning's march we kept close to the river's edge, which now flowed by majestically. In the latter half of the day the travelling was bad and toilsome, over a white, stony soil, abounding in unexpected quagmires, and enticing us further on to spongy, sloping ground, sliced up by innumerable nasty ragged nullahs. Even in this inhospitable stretch of land Lassoo found a hope of further good tidings in the shape of a chula, or mountain fireplace, apparently a month or two old.

Close to the river we quite unexpectedly hit upon a beautifully grassy spot, sheltered by some green hillocks from the incessant wind. It promised at sunset to turn out a bright, clear night, so as to afford us a chance of taking some latitudes, but clouds again began to gather around and eventually obscured every star, and produced a dim yet penetrating rain. This at daybreak was replaced by snow. Still we loaded up, and struggled along against the storm of snow and sleet that blew against our faces and impeded our progress. Later on the sun forced a way through the unkindly clouds, and the snow was quickly melted into the soil. All our labour in drying our baggage was wasted, for everything was soaked with rain again as soon as we began our second march, over a country alternating with patches of grass and white stones. It was an impossibility to see for any distance, but we steered by the noise from the swollen river, till, just before dusk, all became clear again. Then we learnt the cause of the icy wind that had been persecuting us. There rose up north and north-east of us, forty or fifty miles away, some lofty, snow-capped mountains, a truly magnificent picture to gaze upon. A sunny morning was an agreeable change for us, and, added to the fine sight of the snows, compensated for the sterile and monotonous plains of white stones over which we continued our march.

The only life we saw was a large gathering of sand-grouse. So confident were we of shooting a sumptuous meal, that as we drew near to these birds we began to reckon how many of them our four barrels would account for. They, too, must have had their share of reckoning, for without giving us a chance, they with one accord took to wing and flew high and far away, irritating us with their well-known notes.

After proceeding for about four miles we came to a large heap of stones, conspicuous in this flat, open plain. It was an indication of man's presence at some time or other. There was no writing on any of the stones. From here we descended to a lower level in the bed of the river. On one of the adjacent hills I had noticed, through my glasses, actually a man with a little dog. Look as often as we might, still there was no mistaking their identity, yet we could scarcely realise the fact.

Whilst the meat was being prepared for breakfast, I went off to interview the stranger. The nearer I came the more was I convinced that there really stood a man and his dog. Suddenly they disappeared from view, and fearing their escape I hastened my step, which soon brought me to within an easily recognisable distance, when, on the man with his little dog again showing themselves, I learnt that they were no other than two marmots.

After breakfast we heard what sounded like men shouting from the other side of the river. We all turned our eyes in the direction from whence it came, and, in spite of getting a good view, nothing was visible. We speculated as to what could possibly be the cause of the noise, for all had heard it, and, as is usual on these occasions, were none the wiser in the end. The only result was that there was considerable excitement amongst our little party. I have read of travellers hearing strange voices when traversing some of the deserts of Turkistan. Perhaps some of these phantoms who emitted those remarkable noises had wandered over into Tibet.

The monotonous plain we marched over in the afternoon seemed interminable, making the men wearier than the animals, for the going was firm and level. As soon as we had pitched our camp, clouds gathered around us from every quarter, and at length burst open with a violent thunderstorm. At such times we could do nothing more than lie down in our tent, and try to keep dry and look pleasant.

The day before yesterday the men had told us that they had meat left for five more days. We did not, therefore, trouble about shooting any of the kyang that happened to come and look at our camp, or to stalk any of the antelope we saw. After the storm had abated, they came to inform us that the meat was finished, not an uncommon state of affairs with us. It shows how difficult it was to provide for such unreasonable men, worthy as they were in most other respects.

We were beginning to think that, as we had marched so long and so far without seeing any living being, we must be the only people in existence. To any one who is anxious to avoid the police authorities, I can strongly recommend the Chang.

On the 4th of September we learnt from our own observations that we were actually at a lower altitude than Niagzu is, where we had last seen brushwood. We had unmistakably been descending ever since the great disaster befell our animals. After we had made our midday meal off the scrapings of a yak's tail we had carried for some days, and the carcass of a hare, we moved on again, still traversing the same kind of country.

Towards evening we found an old chula close by the river side, and, at no great distance from here, the ground whereon only a few months previously there must have been a fairly large encampment of nomads or merchants. From traces we found round and about, it was evident the caravan had consisted of camels and ponies; there were even the remains of a dead pony close by. We found the single horn of an antelope stuck into the ground, which was a convincing proof that the owners had possessed firearms. We saw also some pieces of string and odds and ends, which our men, of course, picked up. The caravan had evidently marched along the river we were following, for further on we found more camel droppings, but as to who they were and whence they had come from and where they were going, it was impossible to say. They benefited our little party by putting every one in the most hopeful and cheery frame of mind. Here were we at inhabitable altitudes, and we had seen unmistakable signs that told us that other people, too, had travelled in this part of the land.

There was much rain during the night. After loading up, Malcolm and I, separating, went ahead to do our best to shoot some meat. Malcolm luckily wounded a kyang, and drove the animal to the spot where we had halted. His heart was soon cut out and hissing with the onions in the frying pan, and all fared sumptuously. We carried away sufficient donkey flesh to last our party three days, and proceeded over the same monotonous plain, which later on was relieved by some sandy hillocks. The men's spirits were kept from falling through the discovery of some more chulas. This encouraged them to weather the storm that enveloped us.

During the night at Camp 107 our mules had strayed, so that on the morning of the 6th of September all idea of making a double march had to be abandoned, especially as there was a steady downfall of rain. It was, in fact, 11 o'clock before we were able to make a start, and at that hour a cold wind was blowing from the northern snows, and the day was altogether dull, heavy, and depressing; it awakened us to the realisation of our actual feelings. We became aware that we needed some little luxury, such as flour and salt. We seemed to be having rather a surfeit of our finds of wild donkey's flesh.

More than four months had elapsed since we had gaily cantered out of Leh post-haste. We longed to find somebody, and we would willingly have given a large sum for a loaf of bread. We wondered how it was that while our four men had of late been always nagging and quarrelling with one another over every little trifle, we ourselves had never disagreed for a minute. Our only solution was that there was nothing at all we could have argued about, for both our minds were bent heart and soul on the same object, namely, the accomplishment of what we had undertaken to do.

As we had seen signs of mankind, we began to talk over plans. We decided that when we reached a locality abounding in game, to leave three men and one mule there, and ourselves, with the other man and two mules, lightly loaded, to make enormous marches, and find people and bring back assistance with the greatest possible expedition. Thus, filled with these thoughts, both of the past and of the future, we continued our march in silence, so gloomy was the day. The daily practice of exploring on ahead had made the work of always keeping a sharp look out in front, to right and left of our route, habitual to us all.

Suddenly, in the dull light, I noticed far down the river, on the stretch of pasture lands that extended to the hills on the other side, something of whitish appearance. This at first, by means of our glasses, we made out to be a number of stone houses. Yet the idea seemed so ridiculous to us that we declared it was only some irregularities of the ground, such as we had often seen before, and conjured up into no end of impossible resemblances.

The dull, gloomy day had doubtless made us less sanguine of help than we usually were. Nevertheless, we still kept our eyes on the thing, and halted every three or four hundred yards to inspect again with our glasses, but only to repeat once more, "Merely irregularities of the ground." At length we reached a piece of rising ground, where another inspection produced the words, "Merely irregularities," and, "Stop a moment! Some one else have a look," I called, as I held out my glasses for the nearest man to take, stating, "I think it must be something else than 'merely irregularities of the ground.'"

The first man gazed intently, removed the glasses from his eyes, and passed them to another, still keeping his eyes fixed on these "irregularities of the ground." Thus we all looked and gazed, and all were astounded, for some could even discern smoke rising from the spot. We moved on quickly another few hundred yards, full of excitement, and suggesting a thousand problems in a very short time. Once more we halted and repeated our observations. Now the smoke was as clear as a pike-staff, and, what was still more astounding, we could actually solve the question of the "irregularities of the ground." These, indeed, we made out to be tents, and if there was a doubt it was soon dispelled by our noticing a short distance from the tents an immense number of animals, which we conjectured to be yak. We put two and two together and agreed with ourselves that the tents formed a large encampment, and the animals dotted about were the transport.

But our next question was, "By whom could they be inhabited? " The tents were certainly white, and we knew the tents of ordinary nomads were black. Was it an encampment of the Golok, or other robber tribes? Surely, we said, they have black tents too? Was it a Russian caravan travelling from Turkistan? Could it by any possible chance be some other travellers' camp, like ourselves, but on a much larger scale? Were they a body of Turkistan merchants? Then, again, we reflected that their tents would probably be black. We could not help thinking there must be some European dwelling in them. Whatever they might turn out to be, we decided to waste no more time in useless speculation, but to resort to action.

We decided on the following plan:—We sent Esau, because he could speak Tibetan well, with Shukr Ali, because he was of least use to us, armed with rifles, to cross the river and reconnoitre the camp, find out who they might be, and, if possible, bring back food and help. We ourselves, with Shahzad Mir and Lassoo, continued the march along the river till opposite the encampment, which lay a mile or so back from it. We then selected a hollow, surrounded by high rocks, and with good grass around, to pitch our camp on, completely out of sight of those on the other side of the river.

Thus we were thoroughly prepared for any emergency that might occur. From our position we could take note of their every movement without being seen ourselves. While each of us watched in turn from the summit of the rocks, which we called our battlements, the rest were busy with the usual duties connected with pitching a camp or bivouac. We saw that our two men had safely crossed the river, and watched them getting nearer and nearer to the camp, till darkness hid them from our view.

As the night was dark and our two men had been explicitly told where they would find us, and as it was highly probable that the strangers opposite had no idea at all of our existence, we saw no reason why we should keep watch throughout the night. We certainly kept awake a later hour than usual, chiefly, I think, in the expectation of Esau turning up with a loaf of bread or some other food—for Esau is a shrewd, cunning fellow—whilst our conversation consisted merely of repeating our conjectures as to who these people might be, and what might be happening to our two men. With a gnawing feeling at the pit of our stomachs, which we thought might have been satisfied, we fell asleep.

Snow was on the ground when we anxiously rose the next morning, glasses in hand, to mount the battlements and watch. We found the previous day that with glasses we could just distinguish and count the tents, and with difficulty make out men. At first I could distinguish nothing of the strange camp, and merely put this down to the fact that it was not yet full daylight. Still I kept on straining and straining my eyes as the day grew brighter, yet I could see nothing.

So remarkable did it seem to me that I called Malcolm. Neither could he distinguish any signs of the camp up or down the river. We stood astounded, and somewhat crestfallen. What could have happened to the tents, and where were our two men, we asked over and over again? All our hopes, raised so high, of seeing people once again, and of getting food, were all of a sudden cruelly shattered. Yet surely, we argued, if there had been no tents, and our certainty, after all, was only an illusion, what could have happened to our two men? Had they been swept away in trying to recross the river, or were they lying ill behind some rock? It was impossible for us to know, and we resolved to wait and watch for them the whole day, and then, if there were no signs of them, to continue our march down the river bank, for we could not say how many more or how few days we might hold out without getting any help.

We were more surprised than ever to see two men, about 10 o'clock, trudging along up stream on the same side of the river as ourselves, and before very long were glad to recognise them. To judge from the way they were walking, we guessed they had good news for us, and such proved to be the case. We were all soon eagerly listening to their adventures.

Esau related how this encampment proved to be a joint one of Tibetan merchants on their way from Lhassa to China, and how he had been taken to the tent of the head merchant, where he had received hospitality, and slept the night. Esau had been primed with a story to tell that we were a merchant and a doctor on our way to China. The merchant had at once recognised Esau as coming from Ladakh, and, on hearing his story, he remarked they must be either English or Russians, for, he said, men of no other nations could accomplish such a journey. Then Esau related the whole truth, detailing how matters stood with us. At the mention of rupees the merchant pricked up his ears, and expressed his desire to see us and do a little business by selling us food. In order to gain his friendship Esau had told him we had nothing else but bags of rupees, while as a matter of fact we had only something like four hundred. Esau also accounted for the miraculous vanishing of the entire encampment. He said that before daybreak they had marched off along the river, which they had crossed lower down, and thence were going to travel on to Barong and Tankar on the Chinese border. The merchant had sent his salaam, and advised us to follow in his tracks and catch up his caravan, for he said he was most anxious to make our acquaintance. This plan suited us admirably, for we, like the merchant, were steering for Barong and Tankar. We pictured to ourselves the friendship and hospitality that awaited us, and anticipated overtaking the caravan that same evening, and the enjoyment of a cosy tent and a good supper, for Esau had told us he carried all kinds of supplies.