After ascending a couple of miles or so, we halted in a glen affording grass, wood, and water, essentials for a camp not always forthcoming in this desolate region. The baggage arrived in due time. I admired two ghoonts of Murad's, and accepted his offer to ride one to-morrow. Abdoolah telling us that a sandagur had told him the distance to Waad Jilgo this way was but three marches, I determined to try and reach there to-morrow. It will be a great thing, if we are able to get from this place to another yielding grass, without a halt in a complete desert as on the other road.
6th September. We have severe frosts every night now, and the mountains are coated with snow from summit to base, from recent falls. This looks like the beginning of winter here, and, if so, summer must be short indeed, of but a few days' duration; and it is well I did not fulfil my project of entering the Yarkand country, for twelve days may make a serious difference in these mountain regions. The scenery is magnificent in its canopy of snow which removes the unpleasant impression created by the universal sterility, the pure mantle of snow leaving ample scope to the imagination. All around was exceedingly beautiful in the early doubtful lights.
I set off, attended as usual by the shikarries and one coolie with breakfast, Abdool leading Murad's ghoont. A stiff climb at once awaited us; then down into a narrow rocky ravine, up which we scrambled, and became aware we were off the horse-track, having been misled by a yâk path. Much delay took place ere we hit off the track. Then we had a gradual ascent of some six miles over a barren stony tract, a nullah on our left hand. The morning, hitherto sparkling and fresh, now became overcast, and a violent storm of sleet assailed us. I know nothing more miserable in travelling, than riding at a foot's pace, your horse stumbling at every other step or so, and a chilling blast cutting you to pieces, with its horrid accompaniment of stinging sleet and hail. The wind, which had been behind, now veered round and blew direct in our faces, as we descended into a desert plain of boundless extent. My borrowed nag's pace was so far from agreeable that I dismounted, and trudged doggedly on, head down. Gaining a little warmth, I got on better as the storm abated; but that coming on again with increased bitterness, I at last pulled up, and sat down with my back to it. After a time, I again trudged on. How this 'maidan' seemed interminable! But at length we came to a deep gorge with a stream running down it. It was now about one o'clock; and, but for the idea I entertained that we must be getting near Waad Jilgo, I had stopped here. Being far ahead of the riding trio, I was forced to follow my own ideas, and pressed onwards. Another interminable plain presenting itself, on, on I trudged, without any seeming alteration in its extent, until half-past three, when the shikarries overtook me with the ghoont, thinking I must be tired. I did mount, and rode on some six miles. There was now a ridge of low hills in front of us, and a range of higher ones immediately on our left. I hoped we might find water at any rate on the other side, intending to stop at the first place where was water. We had come a long distance, and there was hardly a chance of the coolies coming up. Abdool, being questioned, could give no information about the localities, nor could we understand his gibberish.
We reached the hills in front, and looked into a low flat, where was every appearance of a watercourse, for which we made, but found it dry. A violent snow-storm now setting in, and, having no knowledge of what was before us—all our people and things miles behind—I thought it best to halt here. Bad as this choice was, there was something in favour of it; a quantity of roots for fuel were at hand; so here we dismounted, tied our horses together, and, collecting roots—we had some sticks with us—with some little trouble we got up a smoky dull fire, round which we sat shivering, our prospects for the night decidedly comfortless.
The snow came thicker and thicker; there would be drink for man, if not for beast. Murad and a haji arrived, and joined our group, and at dusk the trusty Buddoo, with a horse carrying my bed, tent, &c., so I was all right. I had also a cake and bacon remaining from my breakfast. My tent erected, I turned into bed, the better to shield myself from the severe cold. I could not eat.
Buddoo said that the other servants and baggage were far behind; so the probability was, what with the night and snow, that they would not be able to find the path or, therefore, camp. I had no fear for them; they had everything but water with them. But I felt deep anxiety for the poor coolies, with nothing but their loads; what would become of them? I felt truly miserable. I told Buddoo, that he and my other two servants, when they might arrive, should shelter themselves in my tent, there being just room for them to huddle themselves up on the floor, and the closer the better. Poor Buddoo was extremely thankful; remarking that the snow descended thicker than ever, and the cold was intense, he closed the entrance, and left me to my gloomy reflections. Sleep was beyond my reach: fretting and restless, I lay listening to outward sounds. Subhan brought the guns, and had no comfort to offer, on my questioning him, but that those of the party here would not die, as they had fire; for the others, the coolies, there was much danger. As he talked, a loud whistle came down the wind, some of the party approaching; and, ere long, I heard with delight the strong cheery tones of Abdoolah who, soon arriving, was bustling here and there, giving directions, and apparently making light of the difficulties that beset us.
All with the horses had arrived safe; but of the coolies there were no tidings. There was strong reason to hope, however, that they would find shelter with the haji kafila, also on the road. The servants' shuldary was with them, so I sent an invitation to the shikarries to put up in mine; they, however, preferred a screen they had contrived, and a good fire. My mind to a great extent relieved, I tried to sleep, but the intense cold, in spite of all the clothes I could heap on, rendered my rest troubled and broken.
7th September. I heard the people quite merry and laughing in the morning. At the appearance of sunshine I turned out, and went to the fire, where I found all in good humour, though recalling bitter experiences of the past night. Snow, of course, lay thick all around. No tidings of the coolies. Abdoolah busied himself melting snow in the kettle to give me some tea (a tedious process, resulting in a smoky slop, for which, however, I was thankful), accompanied by the cake of yesterday. The poor horses stood coupled together, with heads drooping, and teeth grinding. I had ordered them each two seers of corn at night, and gave them one now. Some of them, by-the-bye, had augmented the influences disturbing my night's rest, by coming close to my tent, and grinding their hungry jaws, and uttering uncouth sounds, expressive of distress and suffering, as though to reproach me as the author of them. I did all I could for the poor things.
It was supposed that we were distant from Waad Jilgo some two coss; so a move on was resolved, as water must be had, and the coolies might follow on. The sepoy was despatched to see after them. Hoping to kill an antelope or two, we hunters went on ahead, I as usual on foot. The exhilarating influences of the fresh sharp air, the sparkling snow, and surrounding, many-tinted, diverse-featured mountains and hills, soon dispelled all my gloom, and I trudged cheerily along, enjoying many a pleasant fancy and reflection. But we had short reckoned our distance. It was at least ten miles to the first water and grass; not the spot we had previously stopped at—a couple of miles short of that; but as the grass was abundant, there was every inducement to rest here, which we did. When the breakfast coolie arrived at twelve o'clock, I found that Abdoolah had put me up nothing, and I was now extremely hungry, having had very short allowance of late. The shikarries, however, soon cooked me a couple of cakes, and, Abdoolah and baggage arriving soon after, I started off with Subhan to try for antelope. We went a long way round, and saw numbers, but could not get near one, and came back, disappointed and weary.
As we approached camp we saw sheep and goats nearing, a good sign; and I was told that the coolies were all right, except being hungry and thirsty, and were coming on. They did not arrive, however, till dusk, and then two were stated to have given in, and were remaining far behind, helpless. With some trouble and personal superintendence, I got off two Bhooties with a supply of water for them. The coolies had, as was supposed, stopped at the haji camp, and so were as well off as if they had reached ours, but that they assert that they could get no food from the hajis, which, however, I do not believe.