Yaks and Ponies conveying Wool across the Frontier
Natives always take the keenest interest in firearms and anything connected with them. Also in telescopes, which they love. I happened to possess a little camera which was not unlike a spy-glass. I had given it to one of my men to carry—by the [[227]]way, to the fellow who saved my life on the top of Lumpa Mountain. He could not get it out of his head that it was a glass, and once or twice I caught him trying to survey the landscape with it.
One evening, on my way down to Almora, we had reached camp, and as I was sitting outside my tent I perceived the fellow walking away with my camera towards a cluster of trees some way off on the top of a hillock. I watched him with the corner of my eye. When he got there he climbed right to the top of the highest tree, and as he clung with his folded legs to the branch, swinging to and fro in the wind, he unslung the camera and pulled it out of its case. Next, as I expected, he brought it up to his eyes and proceeded to scan the landscape. Unhappily for the camera, the branch, having swung rather too far beyond its limit of elasticity, gave way, and down came the man and precious instrument, bounding from branch to branch until they bumped with some might upon the solid ground—the man, of course, on the top of the camera. The camera he picked up in fragments, besides destroying eighteen excellent negatives it contained.
“What on earth did you do that for?” I asked of the Shoka. [[228]]
“Sahib,” he said, rubbing his aching side, “I have longed for many a day to look through the durbin; we Shokas are to leave you to-morrow, and I thought I would have no other opportunity. You can kill me, sahib, because I deserve it!”
When I thought of the deep debt of gratitude I owed this man, I preferred to spare him. I handed him a real and powerful telescope, properly focussed, for him to have the treat he wished. When he gazed through it and saw the distant snows and a village some miles off appear quite close, his excitement had no bounds, and when he recognised people coming out of the houses his amazement was very curious to watch.
We had many, many amusing incidents of this kind, and they served to pass away the time.
I cannot end this book without paying a tribute to the faithfulness, endurance, and bravery of all my men. A more devoted lot of fellows could nowhere have been procured. I never had the slightest trouble in any way with them even, as we have seen, under most trying circumstances. The work demanded of them was of the most severe nature, and the constant strain and bodily sufferings so great, that I rather doubt whether I know of any white man who could have stood it—not as [[229]]they did, but even half as well. As it was, after the strain was over—but not before—the poor fellows all broke down, except one. Most of them were pitiably footsore and exhausted, and only their strong will carried them through. The only exception was the young boy, frail and delicate, almost girlish-looking—but with a determined little face—to whom I have referred at the beginning of the book. As stipulated when I employed him, he always carried the heaviest load, and when physically stronger men lay down tired at the end of a march, he was ever ready to run about to collect fuel, took endless pleasure in helping to pitch the tents, and assist in the cooking. The endurance and courage of that little fellow were quite marvellous. He did more work than two men taken together, and at the end of the journey he was the only one who returned in excellent condition, and as fresh as possible.
So that, remember, it is not always the big, bulky, muscular fellows who can stand more hardships,—the strongest and most muscular fellow I had was the only one who succumbed; on the contrary, down to a certain limit, for very hard work, the smaller the men you employ the better. Wiriness, suppleness, agility—and intelligence—are [[230]]essential, and always to be preferred to brutal, uncontrollable strength; but, above all, use your judgment, and never take with you on expeditions of this sort a man who does not possess a strong will. [[231]]