On the morrow, the day fixed upon for the departure of our caravan, several delays occurred; some small item was always found wanting by these dilatory men. So anxious were they to delay their departure till another day, that it was nearly 3 o'clock before we could give the signal to open the gates of the serai and let out the animals, where they had been fattening since we had bought them. Thereupon there was a mighty rush, and on reaching the main thoroughfare of the bazaar, where crowds of inhabitants had gathered to view the departure, terrible confusion ensued. Some discarded their loads altogether, others rushed madly into any open door or alley that came in sight, and as they were collected, loaded, and driven on again, the crowd grew thicker and noisier. Soon after passing through the bazaar, the road makes a sharp descent, enough to baffle any further following of the crowd, nor were the sorrowing relatives of the men inclined at this spot to accompany them any longer. Here our muleteers bade a fond farewell, little suspecting that this in reality would be the very last for some of them, while a few of the more generous-hearted cast small change to the young fry. We ourselves, after riding with them till more steadiness prevailed, turned our ponies' heads again to Leh. After so much confusion, arranging, bartering, and arguing, we lived in peace and quiet for the next few days, amusing ourselves in taking heights and latitudes, and enjoying the hospitality of the good missionaries, our only excitement being the arrival of the post, with the chance of its bringing our passport. On the 4th May, passport or no passport, our patience had ended, and we resolved to start, for it was not desirable that our caravan should remain many days in an idle state at Shushal. We had no confidence in our men, and felt there was nothing like humouring them in all their wants, but at the same time in giving them no time to think of forming and carrying out any plot that might upset our arrangements and intentions.
MY RED CHINESE VISITING CARD, FIVE INCHES BROAD AND TEN INCHES LONG.
We hired six ponies for our remaining baggage, and ourselves mounted on two others, equipped with Government cavalry saddles, carbine bucket, wallets, and wooden stirrups, with poshteen in front and small suleetah behind, prepared to leave the bungalow. We had just been lunching with Vaughan of the Border Regiment, and Ward of the Middlesex, both of whom had come for shooting; with them we enjoyed the last hospitality, and the last conversation with our own countrymen, we were to have until the middle of next October. "Well," they remarked, as we mounted directly afterwards, "so you are off to Pekin!" "Yes," we replied, "we will start this very moment, and do our best to get there," not that we felt doubtful of our undertaking, for the bracing air, the pure clear skies, the grand and glorious mountains of Ladakh, would inspire any man with confidence and self-reliance. Fortune, too, seemed favourable that day, for at the same moment the postman entered the gate of the compound, bringing our Chinese passport and Chinese visiting cards, the delay of which had cost us all our limited store of patience. The passport gave us free permission to travel through the provinces of Kansu, Shansi, and Shensi to Pekin, and through the New Dominion, at the same time enjoining all whom we came across to assist us and put no obstacles in our way. As we passed the kind missionaries' house, we received a hearty and last farewell, and entering the bazaar rode through it almost unobserved, for none knew of the exact time of our departure, and most of the inhabitants were enjoying repose at that time of day.
CHAPTER III.
FOLLOWING THE INDUS—EGU—WAITING AT SHUSHAL—A WARNING.
It was a warm afternoon as we descended the hill already mentioned towards the River Indus. We felt full of spirits in expectation of the journey that lay before us, for great is the charm of entering an unknown country in absolute ignorance of what lies ahead. We thought perhaps we might be fortunate enough to be about to open up a land rich in minerals or pasturage, or teeming with game, for none could tell us what existed over the border land nor who lived there. We might, too, be instrumental in discovering a new and easy route into China. All these thoughts and many others were foremost in our minds, while the glory of uncertainty and the pleasure of perfect freedom, added to the success we had met with in overcoming all the initial preparations, made our hearts light that day. On the other side of the river we saw the straggling village of Shushot, and at the time I thought to myself what miserable wretches the people must be who live there with no thought of ever going beyond its precincts, such as could never attempt to make a trip like ours, or even dream of it.
On one side of the river we passed by several chortens or monuments, and the village of Shey with its ruined fort, an almost indelible sign of its former importance. This village straggled on into Tickse, which was to be our first halting-place. Throughout this valley we had been travelling, the young grass was just beginning to bud, and we fondly imagined the richer grass we expected to find when we crossed the frontier a few weeks later. In the fields around Tickse, men and women were busily engaged, but ceased from their labour to watch and salute us, apparently glad to see Europeans. On the hills were the houses of the Lamas. We put up at the rest-house and bought two maunds of bhoussa for one rupee and filled three of the bags we had brought with us. We used a patent weighing machine of our own, which, of course, the men of Tickse could make neither head nor tail of, nevertheless they trusted us implicitly, for they said we never cheated, but remarked that if they had had the weighing machine and we had been unable to understand it, they would have done their level best to defraud us of as much as possible. From Tickse we continued to follow the River Indus, or Tsang-po-chu, as it is called in these parts, through a large open plain and still blessed with that fine blue Ladakh sky. After easy riding for nearly ten miles, we came to the small village of Chemre. At this spot there is a road which bends sharply to the left, passing over the Chang La, La being the Tibetan word for Pass. At this time of the year, however, the pass was closed, for the snow was deep. We were therefore compelled to take a more circuitous road but still following the river.
A short distance beyond Chemre is the village of Maserung on the other and left side of the river, and almost opposite Chemre itself is the Hemis nullah, famous for its great yearly festival and still more important gathering every twelve years. The monastery up this nullah can be seen from the other side of the river just after leaving Chemre.