on that day. We clearly foresaw that in future, Sunday or no Sunday, we should be forced by circumstances to waste no single day. This last Sunday of rest was in consequence doubly appreciated, and it was some months before we were enabled to enjoy another.
CHAPTER V.
MORTALITY AMONG SHEEP—LAKE TREB—THE NAPU LA PASS—SICKNESS OF BAKR HADJI—RUDOK OFFICIALS COMMAND US TO RETREAT.
Early on the morning of the 18th May all was hustle and bustle at Niagzu. First of all we were sending off our sheep, followed by our hired yak. We had persuaded the owners to lend us twelve yak and three ponies as far as the other side of the pass called the Napu La. By sending these sheep and slow travelling yak ahead, we made a handicap of the march. We ourselves, after seeing nearly all the mules and ponies loaded up, followed next, leaving our own men behind to bring them on. Little did we dream that these same men, as soon as we had disappeared, were about to remain where they stood for two hours, idly waiting with all the animals loaded up and tied together in groups. Still we knew that just at present we had not sufficient power over them to rebuke them for their unwarrantable laziness.
Our road all day lay through stony valleys, enlivened by two cosy nooks called Mitpah Yungmah and Mitpali Conmah, where bright green grass flourished, and where a clear rivulet trickled over a sandy bed, sheltered by rocks and steep hills from the severe winds. At these two small camping grounds the officials from Rudok sometimes place a detachment of soldiers to prevent any foreigners from entering the country from that quarter. Although ignorant of it at the time, we discovered afterwards that we were in reality lucky not to have already met with opposition to our journey.
Far snugger than these two spots was the place called Nurtse, where we halted for the night. From here onwards our flock of sheep began to give way, and we had to sell fourteen of them to our yakman for seven rupees. Our men might have eaten mutton all day long, and yet would have failed to keep pace with the death of the poor sheep.
We passed over a good deal of snow, the remnant of the winter, yet nothing sufficiently bad to impede us at all. We saw very little to shoot excepting a few kyang which were, of course, of no use to us. The kyang or wild ass of Tibet and Ladakh usually stands about fourteen hands; he is of a light brown colour, with white throat, belly, and legs; rather heavy in neck and shoulders, he is, nevertheless, a graceful mover, and there are few prettier sights than a herd of them scampering over some wide plain. Perhaps they have been startled by the unwonted sound of a rifle; off they go, full gallop. Soon curiosity outweighs fear, and back they come to have a look at the intruder. All standing in line they gaze at him from a hundred yards or so, apparently considering whether he is really dangerous or not; then, at a word from the leader, they wheel round and are off again, only to repeat the performance a few moments later, a performance that has ruined many a well-planned stalk before now.
Our guide, who in his time had been a salt collector, and knew the lay of the country, proved himself to be invaluable. Without him, the route we took would have been very hard indeed to find, and to him we owed the steady progress we daily made, not that we went at any rapid rate, or as a rule for any great length of time each day, but we were marching in the right direction, we were travelling east. By reason, too, of the assistance we received from the hired yak, we were able to ride ponies, and it was our wont, after starting off our sub-surveyor in front of every one else, to start ourselves ahead of the caravan, with our cook, Lassoo, likewise mounted. We carried our rifles and ammunition, while he carried in his saddlebags our cold breakfast with some tea leaves and a kettle to boil them in. As soon as we considered that half the march had been covered, we would halt by a stream, if there were one, or by a patch of snow, and boil our water. During these operations the caravan would catch us up again and march on ahead of us. In this way we were enabled to keep an eye upon our men without appearing to do so and thereby raise their suspicions.
On the third day from Niagzu we made our breakfast halt by the side of a valley close to some white stones. From this point two more lines of white stones lay at intervals, separated at an angle of some twenty degrees, and ran right away across the valley and over the opposite hills. We were told that this was a gazelle trap laid by the nomads. As soon as they can contrive to get gazelle into the space between these two lines, they drive them along between them. The gazelle being afraid of the stones continue to be driven on to where the stones meet, where they are easily captured, and sometimes a big haul is made. Although we saw plenty of gazelle about here, they were very timid, and as we had no time to go in for a recognised stalk, we shot none at this period, nor did we drive any between the two lines of white stones!
On the same evening, after crossing a waterless, stony plain for several miles, we reached Lake Treb, so famous for the salt that is taken away from its neighbourhood and carried into Ladakh. Salt, in fact, is collected from any spot within a hundred miles of Ladakh wherever it can be found. We had been marching twelve hours upon arrival at this lake, and it was already dark. Our chances of finding fresh water were very small, for our guide informed us that there was none to be had till we reached the other side of the lake, another four miles. Certainly there was no water running into the lake from this side, and the guide's statement would have been correct, had we not luckily found two small patches of snow and a little grazing close by.
Marching after sunset is without doubt a mistake, for when a halt is made the animals are unloaded carelessly and the loads are thrown about in any fashion; the men become tired and short-tempered, and should there be no moon, there is necessarily much delay in searching for the things that are required, especially when candles are at a minimum. The animals' grain is wasted as well as the men's rations, tents won't pitch, the water won't boil, animals stray, and everybody is blaming some one else.
All such petty annoyances, however, are very soon forgotten again, when, after a sharp frosty night, a glorious morning like that we experienced at Lake Treb announces the commencement of another day. Everything, even the crystallised salt, sparkled in those first brilliant rays, nor was there the remotest breath of wind; all was perfect stillness.
Far away south of us lay a towering range of snow peaks. Their distance seemed to increase their overpowering grandeur and one could with difficulty cease to gaze at each outline of this pure white magnificence. To east and north of us lay Lake Treb, backed by more ranges of mountains. Even Lake Treb itself, which on a dull day would have probably produced a suicidal despondency in the gayest of hearts, seemed to throw aside its natural gloom and rejoice like its grander neighbours at the cheer and brightness of the sun's first rays.
We were almost tempted to try a swim in the salt water, but on close examination we found the shore sloped down in terraces to the water's edge, where it became soft and treacherous. All this distinctly showed that the size of the lake must have been for many years gradually decreasing, and one is led to believe that such is the case in regard to most salt lakes in Tibet. The water, we were surprised to find, was not nearly so brackish as the surroundings would have induced one to believe. The only life we saw about it were a few Brahmini ducks and a couple of geese, which latter did not settle on the lake.
CROSSING THE NAPU LA (18,500 FEET HIGH).
Throughout Tibet we never saw any kind of game on any salt lake, with the exception of the Brahminis. At the east side of the lake lies the foot of the Napu La (pass).
All the way, a track leads up a narrow, stony, and rocky gorge, an almost impossible road after a fall of snow. To have taken our own animals over this pass carrying heavy loads would have been ruination to our plans, and we more than ever congratulated ourselves on having engaged the assistance of these fifteen extra hired animals. During these few days too, a certain amount of grain and bhoussa had been eaten, so that our mules and ponies on this occasion were not really heavily laden. At the top of the pass was the usual pile of stones and sticks which always have been erected in these regions, to denote that the summit is reached. The stones had been piled up in the centre of the col, while a little snow lay on the adjacent heights,