which is made from the dried stigmas of the Crocus 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 twill lined. 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 up another 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 quickly became 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.
CHAPTER II.
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 shelter under 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 weather was 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 6 a.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