Everything promised well when, with my reduced party, I started toward the north-east, first skirting the lake for three and a quarter miles, then ascending over the barren hill ranges in an easterly direction for a distance of twelve miles. The journey was uneventful. My four men seemed in the best of spirits. We descended to a plain where water and grass could be found. Having come upon a camping-ground with a protecting wall, such as are usually put up by Tibetans at their halting-places, we made ourselves comfortable for the night, notwithstanding the high wind and a passing storm of hail and rain, which drenched us to the skin. The thermometer during the night went down to 34°.
A NATURAL CASTLE
At sunrise I started to make a reconnaissance from the top of a high hill wherefrom I could get a bird's-eye view of a great portion of the surrounding country. It was of the utmost importance for me to find out which would be the easiest way to get through the intricate succession of hills and mountains, and I also wished to ascertain the exact direction of a large river to the north of us, which discharged its waters into the Mansarowar. I started alone. A three and a half miles' climb brought me to the summit of a hill, 16,480 feet, where I was able
to ascertain all I wished to know. I returned to camp, and we proceeded on a course of 73° 30', crossing over a pass 16,450 feet high. Then we found ourselves in front of a hill, the summit of which resembled a fortress, with flying-prayers flapping in the wind. At the foot of the hill were some twenty ponies grazing.
With the aid of my telescope I made sure that what at first appeared to be a castle was nothing but a work of nature. Apparently no one was concealed up there. The ponies, however, indicated the presence of men, and we had to proceed with caution. In fact, rounding the next hill, we discerned in the grassy valley below a number of black tents, two hundred yaks, and about a thousand sheep. We kept well out of sight behind the hill. We went a long way around it, and at last descended into an extensive valley. The river described a semicircle through this valley, close to the southern hill range, and it was joined by a tributary coming from the south-east. This tributary at first appeared to me larger than what I afterward recognized to be the main stream. I followed its course for four miles, but found that it was taking me in a more southerly direction than I wished, and had to retrace my steps along a flattish plateau.
Meeting two Tibetan women, I purchased, after endless trouble, a fat sheep out of a flock they were driving before them. These two females carried rope slings in their hands. The accuracy with which they could fling stones and hit the mark at great distances was really marvellous. For a few coppers they gave an exhibition of their skill, hitting any sheep they liked in their flock, even at distances of thirty and forty yards. I tried to obtain from these dangerous creatures a little information about the country, but they professed absolute ignorance.
"We are servants," they said, "and we know nothing. We know each sheep in our flock, and that is all. Our lord, whose slaves we are, knows all. He knows where the rivers come from, and the ways to all Gombas. He is a great king."
"And where does he live?" I inquired.
"There, two miles off, where that smoke rises to the sky."