Three Lakes.” And so saying, he gave his horse three swinging lashes with his whip, in order to put it into a pace commensurate with that of the camel. In a minute he had joined us. “Men of prayer,” said the hunter, “you have come somewhat too far; you must turn back. Look” (pointing with his bow) “yonder; you see those storks hovering over some reeds: there you will find the Three Lakes.” “Thanks, brother,” said we; “we regret that we cannot show you your yellow goats as clearly as you have shown us the Three Lakes.” The Mongol hunter saluted us, with his clasped hands raised to his forehead, and we proceeded with entire confidence towards the spot he had pointed out. We had advanced but a few paces before we found indications of the near presence of some peculiar waters. The grass was less continuous and less green, and cracked under our animals’ hoofs like dried leaves; the white efflorescence of saltpetre manifested itself more and more thickly. At last we found ourselves on the bank of one lake, near which were two others. We immediately alighted, and set about erecting our tent; but the wind was so violent that it was only after long labour and much patience that we completed the task.
While Samdadchiemba was boiling our tea, we amused ourselves with watching the camels as they luxuriously licked up the saltpetre with which the ground was powdered. Next they bent over the edge of the lake, and inhaled long, insatiable draughts of the brackish water, which we could see ascending their long necks as up some flexible pump.
We had been for some time occupied in this not unpicturesque recreation, when, all of a sudden, we heard behind us a confused, tumultuous noise, resembling the vehement flapping of sails, beaten about by contrary and violent winds. Soon we distinguished, amid the uproar, loud cries proceeding from Samdadchiemba. We hastened towards him, and were just in time to prevent, by our co-operation, the typhoon from uprooting and carrying off our linen louvre. Since our arrival, the wind, augmenting in violence, had also changed its direction; so that it now blew exactly from the quarter facing which we had placed the opening of our tent. We had especial occasion to fear that the tent would be set on fire by the lighted argols that were driven about by the wind. Our first business therefore was to tack about; and after a while we succeeded in making our tent secure, and so got off with our fear and a little fatigue. The misadventure, however, put Samdadchiemba into a desperately bad humour throughout the evening; for the wind, by extinguishing the fire, delayed the preparation of his darling tea.
The wind fell as the night advanced, and by degrees the
weather became magnificent; the sky was clear, the moon full and bright, and the stars glittered like diamonds. Alone, in this vast solitude, we distinguished in the distance only the fantastic and indistinct outline of the mountains which loomed in the horizon like gigantic phantoms, while the only sound we heard was the cries of the thousand aquatic birds, as, on the surface of the lakes, they contended for the ends of the reeds and the broad leaves of the water-lily. Samdadchiemba was by no means a person to appreciate the charms of this tranquil scene. He had succeeded in again lighting the fire, and was absorbed in the preparation of his tea. We accordingly left him squatted before the kettle, and went to recite the service, walking round the larger lake, which was nearly half a league in circuit. We had proceeded about half round it, praying alternately, when insensibly our voices fell, and our steps were stayed. We both stopped spontaneously, and listened intently, without venturing to interchange a word, and even endeavouring to suppress our respiration. At last we expressed to each other the cause of our mutual terror, but it was in tones low and full of emotion: “Did you not hear, just now, and quite close to us, what seemed the voices of men?” “Yes, a number of voices, speaking as though in secret consultation.” “Yet we are alone here:—’tis very surprising. Hist! let us listen again.” “I hear nothing; doubtless we were under some illusion.” We resumed our walk, and the recitation of our prayers. But we had not advanced ten steps, before we again stopped; for we heard, and very distinctly, the noise which had before alarmed us, and which seemed the confused vague murmur of several voices discussing some point in under tones. Yet nothing was visible. We got upon a hillock, and thence, by the moon’s light, saw, at a short distance, some human forms moving in the long grass. We could hear their voices too, but not distinctly enough to know whether they spoke Chinese or Tartar. We retraced our steps to our tent, as rapidly as was consistent with the maintenance of silence; for we took these people to be robbers, who, having perceived our tent, were deliberating as to the best means of pillaging us.
“We are not in safety here,” said we to Samdadchiemba; “we have discovered, quite close to us, a number of men, and we have heard their voices. Go and collect the animals, and bring them to the tent.” “But,” asked Samdadchiemba, knitting his brows, “if the robbers come, what shall we do? May we fight them? May we kill them? Will Holy Church permit that?” “First go and collect the animals; afterwards we will tell you what we must do.” The animals being brought together, and fastened outside the tent, we directed our intrepid Samdadchiemba to finish
his tea, and we returned on tip-toe to the spot where we had seen and heard our mysterious visitors. We looked around in every direction, with eye and ear intent; but we could neither see nor hear any one. A well-trodden pathway, however, which we discovered among the reeds of tall grass on the margin of the greater lake, indicated to us that those whom we had taken to be robbers were inoffensive passengers, whose route lay in that direction. We returned joyfully to our tent, where we found our valorous Samdadchiemba actively employed in sharpening, upon the top of his leather boots, a great Russian cutlass, which he had purchased at Tolon-Noor. “Well,” exclaimed he, fiercely, trying with his thumb the edge of his sword, “where are the robbers?” “There are no robbers; unroll the goat-skins, that we may go to sleep.” “’Tis a pity there are no robbers; for here is something that would have cut into them famously!” “Ay, ay, Samdadchiemba, you are wonderfully brave now, because you know there are no robbers.” “Oh, my spiritual fathers, it is not so; one should always speak the words of candour. I admit that my memory is very bad, and that I have never been able to learn many prayers; but as to courage, I may boast of having as much of it as another.” We laughed at this singularly expressed sally. “You laugh, my spiritual fathers,” said Samdadchiemba. “Oh, you do not know the Dchiahours. In the west, the land of San-Tchouan (Three Valleys) enjoys much renown. My countrymen hold life in little value; they have always a sabre by their side, and a long matchlock on their shoulder. For a word, for a look, they fight and kill one another. A Dchiahour, who has never killed any one, is considered to have no right to hold his head up among his countrymen. He cannot pretend to the character of a brave man.” “Very fine! Well, you are a brave man, you say: tell us how many men did you kill when you were in the Three Valleys?” Samdadchiemba seemed somewhat disconcerted by this question; he looked away, and broke out into a forced laugh. At last, by way of diverting the subject, he plunged his cup into the kettle, and drew it out full of tea. “Come,” said we, “drink your tea, and then tell us about your exploits.”
Samdadchiemba wiped his cup with the skirt of his jacket, and having replaced it in his bosom, addressed us gravely, thus: “My spiritual fathers, since you desire I should speak to you about myself, I will do so; it was a great sin I committed, but I think Jehovah pardoned me when I entered the holy Church.
“I was quite a child, not more at the utmost, than seven years old. I was in the fields about my father’s house, tending an old she-donkey, the only animal we possessed. One of my companions, a boy about my own age, came to play with me. We began
quarrelling, and from words fell to blows. I struck him on the head with a great root of a tree that I had in my hand, and the blow was so heavy that he fell motionless at my feet. When I saw my companion stretched on the earth, I stood for a moment as it were paralysed, not knowing what to think or to do. Then an awful fear came over me, that I should be seized and killed. I looked all about me in search of a hole wherein I might conceal my companion, but I saw nothing of the kind. I then thought of hiding myself. At a short distance from our house there was a great pile of brushwood, collected for fuel. I directed my steps thither, and with great labour made a hole, into which, after desperately scratching myself, I managed to creep up to my neck, resolved never to come out of it.