CAMP WITH GIGANTIC INSCRIPTIONS
Taking advantage of the storm, the men Nattoo and Bijesing had escaped during the night with the loads intrusted to them. I discovered their tracks, half washed away, in the direction from which we had come the previous night. The rascals had bolted, and there would have been comparatively little harm in that, if only they had not taken with them all the stock of provisions for my two Hindoo servants, and a quantity of good rope, straps, and other articles, which we were bound to miss at every turn, and which we had absolutely no means of replacing.
Of thirty picked servants who had started with me, twenty-eight had now abandoned me. Only two remained faithful: Chanden Sing and Mansing the leper!
The weather continued horrible. No food for my men and no fuel! I proposed to the two Hindoos to go back also and let me continue alone. I described to them the dangers of following me farther, and warned them fully, but they absolutely refused to leave me.
"Sir, we are not Shokas," were their words. "If you die, we will die with you. We fear not death. We are sorry to see you suffer, sir, but never mind us. We are only poor people, therefore it is of no consequence."
This last disaster should, I suppose, have deterred us from further progress. It somehow made me even more determined to persist than before. It was no light job to have to run afield to capture the yaks, which had wandered off in search of grass; and having found them and driven them back to our primitive camping-place, to tie upon their backs the pack-saddles, and fasten on them the heavy tin-lined cases of scientific instruments and photographic plates. This task was only part of the day's work, which included the writing up of my diary, the registering of observations, sketching, photographing, changing plates in cameras, occasionally developing negatives, surveying, cleaning rifles, revolver, etc. The effort of lifting up the heavy cases on to the pack-saddles was, owing to our exhausted condition, a severe tax on our strength. The tantalizing restlessness of the yaks forced us to make many attempts before we actually succeeded in properly fastening the loads, particularly as the Shoka deserters had stolen our best pieces of rope and the leather straps. One of the remaining pieces of rope was hardly long enough to make the final knot to one of the girths. Neither Chanden Sing nor Mansing had sufficient strength to pull and make it join. I made them hold the yak by the horns to keep him steady while I pulled my hardest. I succeeded with a great effort, and was about to get up when a terrific blow from the yak's horn struck me in the skull an inch behind my right ear and sent me rolling head over heels. I was stunned for several moments. I gradually recovered, but the back of my head was swollen and sore for many days after.
We proceeded along the right bank of the river between reddish hills and distant high snowy mountains to the north-west and east-south-east of us, which we saw from time to time when the rain ceased and the sky cleared. The momentary lifting of the clouds was ever followed by another downpour. Marching became unpleasant and difficult, sinking, as we were, deep in the mud. Toward evening we suddenly discovered some hundred and fifty soldiers riding full gallop in pursuit of us along the river valley. We pushed on, and having got out of their sight behind a hill, we changed our course and rapidly climbed up to the top of the hill range. My two men with the yaks concealed themselves on the other side. I remained lying flat on the top of the hill, spying with my telescope the movements of our pursuers. They rode unsuspectingly on, the tinkling of their horse-bells sounding pleasant to the ear in that deserted spot. Thinking that we had continued our way along the river, they rode beyond the spot where we had left the path. Owing to their haste to catch us up, they did not notice our tracks up the hillside.
Rain began to fall heavily again, and we remained encamped at 17,000 feet, with our loads ready for flight at any moment. The night was spent none too comfortably. I sat up all night, rifle in hand, in case of a surprise, and I was indeed glad when morning came. The rain had stopped, but we were now enveloped in a white mist which chilled us. I was tired. Chanden Sing was intrusted to keep a sharp watch while I tried to sleep.