The moon above, and I, her friend, below.
The following day I made about twelve miles before noon, over a country much the same in topography. Proceeding north-west in the afternoon, I came to the base of a huge mountain of snow, which I could not think of crossing. For a while I went into meditation, and then wended my way in a direction which fortunately proved to be the right one for my purpose, as I found out afterwards. Right in the direction, but all wrong in other respects, as what I have to tell will show.
As I pushed onwards, I soon came upon a region which was quite the opposite of the country I had traversed in its entire absence of water supply; neither a pool nor a brook was to be seen within the eye’s range. I continued my progress until about seven o’clock in the evening—I had walked about twenty-seven miles, all told, that day—but not a drop of water could I find, and I felt as withered up as could be. As for my sheep, there was some green grass growing for them to graze on. I had no tea—in fact could not have any—that evening before I went to sleep. It is wonderful how one gets accustomed even to hardships; I slept well that night.
NEARLY DYING OF THIRST.
Before sunrise the next morning, on resuming my journey, I thought I espied a stream of water coursing through a sandy country at a distance which I judged to be about seven miles in the direction of my progress. Not having had a drop of water, or anything whatever in liquid form, since the afternoon of the previous day, I was of course thirsty; but now I had prospect at least of obtaining some quenching draught, and allaying the thirst with a pinch of hotan, now and then, I made good headway. On reaching the supposed river, what was my disappointment and dismay! Instead of a stream of water, I found there the dry bed of a river, strewn with white pebbles glittering in the sun! Then I could not help imagining myself to be a mere shadow, wandering in mad quest of a soothing draught in the hot region of the nether world, where all water turned into fire when brought to the mouth. Once more I stood me unto my full length, and looked round for water; but none could be seen, nothing but some blades of grass growing here and there to the height of about five or six inches. I could do nothing but endure the thirst, and wend my way on in the direction I had chosen—north-west. After proceeding for some distance, I once more thought that I perceived a body of water in the midst of another desert of sand, but on coming to the spot the glittering specks of sand once more disillusioned me only to intensify my thirst.
[CHAPTER XXI.]
Overtaken by a Sand-Storm.
The tormenting thirst which I experienced after my second disappointment simply beggars description. To say that I felt as if my entire internal system were becoming parched is only to put it mildly. But, however excruciating the torture might be, there was no help for it after all but to move on in the hope of finding some water; even the hope itself was now almost deserting me. I really felt that I should die of thirst if I should fail to get some moisture during the rest of the day, and were to pass another night waterless. I had been constantly taking some hotan; but even that cooling fragrance seemed to increase the distressing dryness. Thank heaven! about eleven o’clock I came within sight of a declivity, and somehow I felt sure that I should find some water at its bottom. Buḍḍha be praised! I was right: there was some water. But alas! such water! To take the luggage off my back, get out a wooden bowl, and run down into the hollow was the work of an instant. But when I fetched out a bowlful of the water, lo and behold! it was vermilion red, thick and (what was worse) alive with myriads of little creatures! In short, it was a stagnant pool of water, which for all I knew might have been becoming putrid for years. Imagine how I then felt! I was dying with thirst, but the very look of the water was forbidding. Then my religious scruples disallowed my swallowing any water with living things in it. It was not long, however, before I remembered a teaching of the Blessed Buḍḍha, in which the Lord telleth that when water which is to be drunk contains living things, it should be strained through a piece of woven stuff. I went through the process; but the water remained red. There were no more moving things in it, however, and I took a good long draught of the vermilion liquid. That quenching draught, how delicious it was! I imagine God’s nectar could not be sweeter. But a second bowlful—no, I could not take it. In the usual manner, then, I built a fire and went about boiling the filtered water. It was well-nigh twelve o’clock, however, before the kettle began to boil, and it being against my rule, as already told, to take any meal after noon, I prepared baked flour with the red lukewarm water. And the lunch I then took was one of the most enjoyable I ever had in Tibet.