The owner of the wounded cow came to report on the health of that unfortunate quadruped which by his statement is alive, but in a bad way, lying down and eating nothing. I fancy something definite will be known to-morrow.
13th July. I started at dawn with not very pleasant anticipations of my day's work, expecting very hard walking in a barren stony country, with hardly a chance of sport. And so it turned out. We ascended hills, and traversed table lands, and peered into gullies right and left, but saw not a glimpse of game: so, after some three hours and a half of this unsatisfactory toil, we descended to a stream on the road, hard by where I shot the cow; there breakfasted, and returned to camp.
We again passed some of those curious Buddhist erections—long, oblong, tomb-shaped piles. There were two about fifty yards long each, with an interval of some thirty yards. The tops were slightly slanted from the centre, and covered with the smooth, flat, water-worn stones, except a few yards left to be filled in by them. These stones were all inscribed with figures, or Thibetan characters; and I endeavoured to ascertain from the two native attendants, through the interpretation of the shikarries, the meaning of the inscriptions, and the object with which they were so placed. But my gleanings were very scanty, the shikarries having but a limited stock of Hindostani phrases, not a general knowledge of the language, and only a few words of Thibetan. But thus much I made out; that every stone was similar in its inscription, bearing the words—as well as I can letter the sounds—Mâni, Pâni, Pudma-hoo—which I understood to be one of the titles of their divinity, and that these engraved stones were thus presented as an oblation and offering acceptable to their god—being an act of faith and devotion from which as a consequence prosperity is looked for. More I could not discover, the shikarries being very obtuse in apprehending an idea on such subjects. These are not tombs, then, but rather altars.
On return I announced my intention to move to-morrow. The lumbadar came to see me. He had just returned from Leh, had a decided Thibetan face, and wore some ornaments, necklace, ear-rings &c., of red coral and turquoise. These appear to be the fashionable jewels here, nearly all—the poorest even, in rags and tatters—having a bit or two stuck about them. He showed me a card written by poor Moorcroft who perished so sadly in Bokhara, bearing date June 16th, 1822, stating that he had presented a coral to the monastery, as a token of his visit. This lumbadar was an interesting fellow, evidently very bashful and sensitive, but quick in apprehension and intelligent.
The cow case came up for final adjudication, the animal in the same condition; so after some discussion I gave the owner the full price of the cow, as stated, viz: six Maharajah rupees—only five shillings English—and, if it recovered, so much the better, he would be a lucky fellow. So ends this sporting episode. It has not been without its good results in establishing the European character for justice.
14th July. We got away at 5 A.M., and took the path onwards to Kalsee. It threads a narrow gorge giving exit to the waters of a torrent, the scenery grand and savage—towering cliffs, beetling crags, shutting out the sky. The path was conducted in the most irregular evolutions and zigzags, and occasionally running almost into the river; so much so that I was reduced to mounting Subhan at two places to keep dry. We crossed several well-constructed bridges, and came upon a much larger stream, which we followed through its devious windings to the Indus. In one place it rushed along a channel cut in the solid rock, each side level and scarped as though by man, the depth being some twelve feet, and the width about six.
At length this ravine, opening out a little, debouched upon the valley of the Indus running at right angles to our course, and here a dirty, shabby-looking river, of some twenty or thirty yards in width, in a narrow and sterile valley, the mountains on either side shelving down so close to the river as to leave little more than a few yards of level on which was the path. We saw on the opposite side men working at a hole, and on our own met others with gold-washing implements,—a wooden, flat, boat-shaped affair, with a cane-work frame, and ladles of gourd. I believe the yield is very scanty.
On, about a mile, to a bridge over the Indus, on this side of which is a Buddhist shrine; on the Ladâk side is a small fort of sun-dried brick, very insignificant—a three-pounder would knock it into 'smithereens' in half a dozen rounds. There are three or four sepoys here. All goods are weighed here, and pay duty before crossing.
It was about half a mile further to Kalsee: and pleasant, indeed, it was to see the green trees and fields. The place appeared quite civilised after the savage country we had traversed. There were large gardens and fields fenced in by stone walls, fruit trees thickly interspersed amid the grain, principally standard peaches, the fruit now at about half its size. The whole wore a charming aspect of industry and improvement. Passing along the walls, we came under the village which, built on the side of a rocky hill, overlooks its smiling terraced fields and orchards, now beautifully green. The path now led under some fine spreading walnuts, affording delicious shade, a most grateful relief to my aching eyes, parched and bloodshot from the burning glare of the barren rocky regions I have been crossing.
No level spot of sufficient space, devoid of grain, being available for my tent, I resolved to purchase the crop under a walnut tree, so ordered the attendance of the Zemindar, with whom the shikarries and sepoy bargained, the price being fixed at a pukka rupee. While this was going on, an alarming attack was made upon the intruders from above. The proprietor's better half, having got tidings from some busy-body of what was going on, descending took up a position above us, and began to wag her tongue violently, as some of the dear creatures can do. Not relishing this music, and fearing that, if she was not satisfied, we should have a constant repetition of it, I offered an additional half-rupee, explaining my reason for this excessive liberality. This being interpreted to the Zemindar caused him and the bystanders much merriment, for I fancy that I made a hit in attributing a voluble tongue to this howling harridan. All was now serene, and I was installed in my barley field under the fine walnut tree; and much did I relish my homely meal, reposing under its pleasant shade.