"You do know the difference," returned Tikse. "When yak give grunt, he feel one way or other, maybe both. When yak do not give grunt, yak do not care."
"But why," asked Chuba, "should yaks feel both good and bad?"
"These yaks feel good," explained Tikse, "because they know they get to shelter ahead of snow. They feel bad because we make them hurry. So they say both things with one grunt. Simple."
It looked simple indeed when they reached the day's goal, a small patch of grazing ground where dried grass spread to the foot of rocky slopes. There were stone huts for the members of the party and similar shelters for the yaks. The reason stones had been used in the construction was because there were plenty of them lying around; and nothing else. The roofs of the buildings were made of rough boards, covered with thatched leaves. They weren't nailed down because they didn't have to be. The builders had simply placed big stones on the roofs.
The boys turned in early and slept late, snug in their sleeping bags and shoulder to shoulder in their huts. In the morning it took three of them to ram the door open, the snow was so deep. But the yaks were up, ready and grunting—some because they liked snow; others because they hated it.
The yaks pulled the party through. They bulldozed their way through the snow, chest deep, clearing it like living snowplows, so that the people had no difficulty following them. Oddly, as the trail climbed higher, it led to barren ground, totally free from snow. Apparently, the storm clouds hadn't managed to gain that altitude.
Early that afternoon, the party halted at a roaring mountain stream and stared at the remnants of a crude wooden bridge that had been washed away by the flood. Sadly, Tikse petted one yak after another, while the porters relieved the stolid beasts of their burdens. The boys watched Tikse turn the yaks over to two other Ladakhis, who promptly drove them off along the trail. Barma Shah explained the situation.
"We'll have to make a footbridge," he stated, "before the water rises too high. So Tikse is sending the yaks on to another shelter. From now on, the porters will carry our packs."
All the while, Biff could hear a chopping sound from a short way up the narrow, turbulent stream. There was a sudden crash, and a tree came toppling down to bridge the raging torrent. Chandra appeared from the brush, carrying a heavy hand-axe.
"Bridge already set," reported Chandra. "It just needs one thing more—"