My brother and the commandant discussed where we had best go in search of sport on the way to Sarikol, and they eventually decided on a valley three marches off, two of which lay along the Russian road to Kharuk, and with many compliments on both sides we left Pamirsky Post. Most of the country along our route was absolutely sterile, except when, after crossing low passes, we descended now and again to the river, on the banks of which was scanty grazing and tamarisk scrub, just enough to support life for a few camels, yaks and ponies. As a rule the marmots were the only creatures that broke the lifeless monotony of the marches, and whenever it was sunny the little animals sat upon their hind legs in front of their burrows, uttering excited cries as they saw us pass. They were larger than those with which I was familiar in Persia, and were orange-coloured instead of buff, their noses, paws and tails being black. They hibernate during the long winter, and the Kirghiz affirm that when they emerge from their seclusion they have no hair on their bodies. They also sleep during the middle of the day. My brother computed that they must pass about 80 per cent of their time in slumber, and had a contempt for these sadly idle creatures. But they appealed to me because of their cheery squeakings and lively scuttling to earth. They live on the roots of grasses, and are apparently independent of water, for large colonies are often situated miles from any stream. We had to ride carefully in places in order to avoid the entrances to their burrows, which were sometimes in the middle of the track.
At the end of our second day’s march we met Colonel Yagello, Commissioner of the Pamirs, on his way to Pamirsky Post, and as he spoke French I enjoyed the conversation of a cultivated man, keenly interested in the geology of the country, and anxious to exploit the mineral wealth, which he said was considerable.
At the time of our visit to Pamirsky Post there was great excitement, because the local Mingbashi had been dismissed from office, and in order to mark his resentment had collected four hundred families of his tribe and fled with them across the Afghan border into Wakhan. The Cossack officer informed my brother that immediately after our departure he intended to pursue and bring back the fugitives. As such an action would have been looked upon at Kabul as constituting an invasion of Afghanistan, and would have strengthened the anti-Ally party in that state, my brother strongly urged our host to await the arrival of Colonel Yagello before taking action, and finally persuaded him to adopt this course. When we met the Commissioner my brother discussed the Wakhan question with him, but at first the latter said that he was determined to pursue the recalcitrant Mingbashi, exclaiming that the honour of Russia was at stake. However, after long arguments he promised not to cross the Afghan frontier, but to send representations to the Governor of Badakshan, who was also the ruler of Wakhan, and thus settle the matter without using force.
Our camp at the shooting ground was at the bottom of a long valley running into the mountains, with grazing on the banks of a stream for our animals and a clump of akhois for ourselves and the servants. Here we halted for some days, and, while my brother left long before dawn for the hills, I amused myself by riding about, photographing, entertaining Kirghiz ladies, repacking the boxes of stores and doing the hundred and one odd jobs that accumulate when one is travelling. I was fond of collecting the tiny, short-stalked Alpine flora, and found edelweiss, gentians, white and pale blue, little mauve vetches, cream and yellow flowers of the hawkweed order, pyrethrums and camomiles, while minute cream, mauve and pink blossoms exuded from the edges of unpromising-looking dull-green patches. Were it not for the buttercup and the yellow or white cistus the flora would be hardly noticeable; but at a lower level I found yellow poppies, large yellow labiatae, candytuft that scented the air with honey, and many plants that I could not identify.
When my brother had secured his fourth head we left the valley, our way leading us along a river that was ice-bound in long stretches although it was now July, reminding me of Mr. Douglas Freshfield’s remark that the climate of the Roof of the World is nine months of winter and three of cold weather.
Now and again we came across fine ovis poli skulls lying on the ground, and I chose a fine head to keep as a memento of my visit. One day a young poli stood in our path; allowing us to get quite close to it before it took alarm, and even then it only trotted along in front until a dog that belonged to the caravan behind rushed after it, and the pretty creature made off at once into the hills.
I had been told that the rich Kirghiz hung their akhois with embroidered silks and covered the ground with beautiful carpets, but we never came across such luxury. I was always on the look-out for carpets, but saw few that I liked, the old ones being either torn or covered with tiny burns made by sparks from the fires. One woven with a modification of the well-known pine-cone pattern in indigo on a beautiful rose ground took my fancy greatly, but alas, it had a huge hole in the centre. The design of one carpet was a series of square crosses in diagonal rows; half of them framed a conventionalized swastika, an emblem of good fortune, and the other half enclosed representations of various implements. It does not sound alluring, yet it was an attractive product of the loom and had fine reds, blues, browns and greens in its colouring. Elsewhere I met a commonplace pattern of conventionalized flowers in small blocks linked together by lines, but the beautiful vegetable dyes of the old carpets are unfortunately being ousted by the crude aniline tints so much in vogue at Khotan.
BRINGING IN AN OVIS POLI.
(Nadir with rifle.) Page 146.