the chapter on the Mohammedan rebellion in China, my thanks are due to my friend Mr. Ridley, of the "China Inland Mission," who lived in the very midst of the scene of trouble, and who kindly allowed me to make every use of his notes. They are likewise due to Sir Claude and Lady Macdonald, whose kindness and hospitality in Pekin can never be forgotten, and lastly, to those three faithful ones who stuck to us through thick and thin.
The names of Duffadar Shahzad Mir, Lassoo, and Esa Tsareng—known throughout as "Esau"—will always call to my mind three men without whom this journey could never have been accomplished, and in saying this I know that I am also expressing the feelings of my companion, Lieut. Malcolm.
M. S. WELLBY,
Capt. 18th Hussars.
Waziristan,
November, 1897.
CHAPTER I.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE JOURNEY—MALCOLM GOES ON AHEAD.
About the beginning of March, 1896, whilst the Inter-Regimental Polo Tournament was being held at Umballa, an occasion when representatives of regiments from all parts of India are gathered together, Lieutenant Malcolm, of the 93rd Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, and I, agreed to join forces in an expedition through Tibet. Our resolve was to traverse the northern portions of this little-known country from west to east, to find out, if possible, what mysteries lay beneath the word UNEXPLORED with which alone our latest maps were enlightened; furthermore to discover and locate the source of the Chu Ma river, which was supposed to be a source of the Yangtse Kiang; finally to cross the Tsaidam and end up our wanderings at the celestial capital of China. During the few weeks that remained before we should be able to take our leave, we were unfortunately quartered at different places many miles apart, consequently all our arrangements had to be carried out by post and wire. It was towards the end of March when we left our respective stations of Nowshera and Umballa. I remember well the mail train to Rawal Pindi one bright morning gliding from the latter station past the well-known grassy maidan, then worn to a dirty dusty brown by reason of the morning tramp of small mixed armies, and by the equally keen and destructive work of numerous polo players during the latter half of the day.
On occasions like this, the thought quite naturally arises in one's mind, "Is everything here? Has my faithful bearer left anything behind?" Let us see what was with me in the carriage. In one corner lay my rifles; these consisted of a ·308 with Martini-Henry action, and 300 rounds of ammunition with Jeffery's split bullets, a sporting carbine with 200 rounds, a shot-gun with 300, and a couple of government cavalry carbines with 100. These latter we brought not in the hope of using, but rather to lessen the chance of a skirmish with any natives showing hostile intentions, by merely making a display of them. The knowledge of a caravan being well armed and equipped, however small it may be, is very often a battle half won amongst unsophisticated inhabitants of little-known countries. The other rifles, for game, we selected chiefly for their handiness and the lightness of the ammunition, although a double-barrelled express may be equally or more destructive. All the ammunition was placed in government tin-lined wooden boxes, with rope handles.
Here, too, were our scientific instruments: A three-inch theodolite and stand, a six-inch sextant, three aneroid barometers, a hypsometer, maximum and minimum thermometers, plane table and stand, prismatic compass, and field glasses. Besides this we had a drying press for flowers, skinning knives, with alum and arsenical soap, a butterfly net, and a kodak; also the best map of the country we could lay our hands on, and a few stiff books, such as the "History of the Indian Empire," where the dullest mind and imagination can find unlimited food, for there are times on trips of this description when bad weather or illness may prevent outdoor progress, and the brain will at once cry out for an innings. Close by lay a despatch box and medicine chest, containing, for man's ailments, quinine, Cockle's pills, chlorodyne, auberge for colds, antipyrine, antiseptic wool, vaseline, and kola nut, the last named being particularly useful, for a small piece the size of a pea has been known to sustain strength and energy at the most urgent times; there were also mustard plasters, which are always effective for sticking on natives of any uncivilized country, Tibetans themselves being especially partial to this kind of medicinal adornment. For the mules and ponies, whose chief and probably only ailment would be the suffering from sore backs, we carried sugar-of-lead ointment and cyona. There lay, too, a small chair, a bundle of warm blankets and waterproof sheets, and a box containing twenty chain hobbles with bolt screw. We had learnt from Bower, who had crossed Tibet some five years previously, that one of the greatest delays was caused by the straying of the animals at night-time, and against this annoyance we were resolved to protect ourselves. These were very simply made. By way of a portable kitchen we had laid in a box of cooking utensils, consisting of some steel degchies and a frying pan. The stores were placed in six boxes, each weighing about thirty pounds, and made up principally of tea, cocoa, Lazenby's soup squares, Brand's essences, candles, matches, some sardines and bully beef, with three bottles of good brandy. In the luggage van were also two government cavalry saddles, with carbine bucket, wallets, and wooden stirrups, for we had been led to believe that the cold would be intense, and that metal stirrups would probably produce a frost-bite. Lastly, though more precious, was my little fox terrier, Ruby, so full of life and spirits at starting, yet in happy ignorance of the undeserved fate that overtook her some seven or eight months later.
Unlike many Indian trains, where, too, the fashion would have suited me far better, this particular train landed me punctually at Rawal Pindi at 2 a.m. Despite this unearthly hour and the drizzling rain, I was a little surprised to find my special tonga awaiting me, though it proved insufficient for carrying all the luggage. Leaving my little terrier to take charge of this, I embarked on to a wooden springless box, pulled by a mule, and steered for the nearest serai, in hopes of being quickly able to find an ecka. Here I squeezed through some bars of the large wooden gates which were supposed to keep out night intruders, and any sleeping inmate who lay in the various rooms I prodded with my stick, and demanded an ecka. None of these, however, at such an hour, would accede with any kind of willingness to my proposals. Some absolutely refused to awake, while others who did, strongly objected to being roused and to helping me. The only arrangement that would suit any of these men at all was, that twenty-five rupees should be paid instead of the proper fare of eighteen. In that case, and providing that my luggage was brought to the serai, and that there were not too many things, they agreed to start for Baramula when they felt inclined. Bribes, threats, and even blows were of no avail, and finally, being opposed by superior numbers, I retreated, and sad to say not gracefully, for I had to squeeze through those bars again. Another ride in the box brought me to a second serai, where I luckily fell in with a choudrie, who produced an ecka with so stout a pony that he reached the station before I could in my mule box. Here the ecka was loaded and sent on in advance, shortly to be overtaken by my tonga, for a tonga will cover the journey of 160 miles to Baramula in two days, while an ecka takes about five. The only difficulty that arose this morning was the constant jibbing of the horses, and had they not the providential dodge of repeatedly collapsing and lying down, I should undoubtedly have rattled down some open precipice. Despite this delay, I reached the well-known hill station of Murree for 10 o'clock breakfast. From here the road was heavy, and had not some gangs of long-suffering coolies, who were working on the road, come to our assistance, the tonga would be there now. That evening we reached Domel, where a tumbledown shanty had supplanted, for the time being, a well-built bungalow which had recently been washed away by heavy rains and snow. In one respect this was an ill-chosen spot to spend the night at, as the horses had to be taken away for shelter some three miles off, I was told, and to induce natives to bring the tonga ready to start by daybreak was as difficult as to squeeze blood out of a stone.
CLUB OF NORTHERN INDIA, MURREE, IN SNOW.
By 7 o'clock, however, we were once more rolling along in dripping rain, with the everlasting but somewhat monotonous roar of the river Jhelum below us, so that it was a decided relief to stop for breakfast, even at an inn like that at Chagoti, where I could