It was as lonely a meal as I have ever had, with the wind hissing and the snow accumulating upon my shoulders, knees, and head. I did not like to rouse my poor men to put up the tent again, for it was no use, the snow was too deep and the pegs would not hold; but I made myself a sort of low shelter with some boxes and the tent spread on them, and having crept underneath, slept soundly till the morning.
“Oh, what a morning!” I exclaimed, when I opened my aching, half-frozen eyelids. Worse than the night before, and the snow coming down as I have seldom seen it come before. My baggage was buried altogether, and so were my men, except for some breathing-space cleared near the head. [[112]]All the urging in the world would not get them up, and every time I gave them a dig in sensitive spots with my bamboo stick, it only brought forth pitiable moans and groans.
Elongated Shadows on a Sea of Mist
Towards 10 A.M. the storm abated somewhat, and we dug out the loads and departed, my men still declining to eat any food. Hungry and shivering, they were indeed a pitiable sight. Their normal sense of humour was sadly lacking that day, and they strode unsteadily, with long, mournful faces, as if they were about to mount the executioner’s scaffold.
We went on the whole day mostly in mist and sleet and snow, and towards evening we arrived at the bottom of the valley. Excitement did not altogether lack. Three avalanches came down during the day with deafening fracas. One of them, which brought down a lot of débris and rock, sounded like a regular battle, with sharp fusilading and big artillery, with a deafening report at the end which almost stunned us.
Next we came to a broad river which it was necessary to ford, and wading across it chilled us about as much as we could endure. Our toes got so cold—almost frost-bitten—that it required some minutes of rubbing and thumping before we could [[113]]stand upon them again. The pain was quite excruciating.
While we were in this plight we heard voices. We answered, and presently two Jumli shepherds, half-scared and shaggy, cautiously approached us. We received the information that some few more hours’ marching would take us to the village of Tinker, and for it we made with renewed vigour. Stumbling and slipping constantly after it got dark, we went on and on. More snow, more wind. Hour after hour passed, but no village. At last, at 3 A.M., my men half-dead with fatigue and hunger, we arrived at the modest little village of Tinker. My men had wilfully been forty consecutive hours without a morsel of food, but once under a roof with a blazing fire, they were now preparing to make up for lost time. [[114]]