A DAY'S HALT BY A FRESH-WATER LAKE.
A climate like this at such a height struck us as truly marvellous. After seventeen degrees of frost by night, we found ourselves basking in the open in a temperature of 106 degrees, showing a variation of ninety degrees in the twenty-four hours. At 7 p.m. again, the thermometer registered as much as forty-eight degrees Fahr. Our route, as far as we could make out, lay over a large open plain with but scanty grass, and far off we could see a hill standing out alone conspicuously, a useful landmark for us to march on to. Without a distinct feature to make for, the caravan would very often zigzag down a broad valley and perhaps cover a mile or two more of ground than was necessary.
We were off before 5 o'clock, with a keen morning air in our faces, but after a couple of hours the heat became so unbearable that we would fain have halted. We had, however, to march ten miles before we could find a spot at all suitable, where, too, we had to resort to digging for water. Around here we shot sand-grouse, excellent food. Owing to the impossibility of marching with the sun so powerful, we decided to make two short marches each day, one of three hours in the very early morning, and the second during the afternoon. The drawbacks to this method were the uncertainty of finding grass and water twice in one day, and the fatigue involved in doubling the work of collecting the animals and loading and unloading them. But to march ten miles straight away in one morning as we had just done would have been suicidal. We reckoned that by making these two short marches, we should cover rather more ground each day, about twelve miles.
Whilst resting the animals, that they might recover from the results of the hot morning's march, we sent Esau on in front to spy out the land, who brought back the favourable news that lakes and grass were ahead of us, and no mountains to climb. It was bitterly cold as we moved off at 4.30, but no doubt a bracing morning for our animals, but as soon as the sun rose, the heat again made itself unpleasant, and we were glad to find a suitable camp before 8 o'clock. One of the mules, a big black one, could only carry his load a few yards, and had to be shot. Although at the end of the first march we had found a good halting place in a clean gravel-bedded nullah, with running water from the snow mountains, and fair grass, yet the second march ended by moonlight with no grass at all, and two of the ponies were left behind. Our second attempt at a double march failed.
During the early morning we hit off a rivulet, which, as we continued to follow it, increased in volume, but on issuing from the nullah into a large open plain, this rivulet became a river, some ten yards across, and two feet deep, and wound away northwards. As our course took us due east, we reluctantly had to leave it, with the hope of meeting it again further on, and of finding its size still larger, so that we might be able to map out its course for a considerable distance. For some time afterwards we could see a silver streak in the distance, and beyond it an enormous range of snow mountains.
As soon as we left the river and marched east, our route lay across a sandy gravel plain, and our chances of ever finding water and grass again seemed very small, when, fortunately, from one of the hills I climbed, I noticed a hidden dip in the ground, with grass, and here, as usual, water was found by digging. The number of our animals was still decreasing, and the strength of the survivors was growing weaker and weaker. We had to economise every cupful of grain, for that was the way we always doled it out. There were six bags remaining, in all about 480 pounds, and we reckoned that each bag would last out for eight marching days if we gave to each animal two cupfuls of grain per diem. There were only sixteen survivors. One of the mules showed an obstinate and mutinous frame of mind, for when loaded with his fair due, he absolutely refused to march; as soon as we gave him a light load, he trotted along gaily and felt no effects from the march. He was about the fattest and strongest mule we had, thereby convincing us that his inability to carry his proper amount of baggage was a mere sham, and in order that he should not get the better of us, we gave his grain to others who did his work, until he saw the folly of his obstinacy.
On viewing the country from a neighbouring hill, I found that if we marched due east we should meet with obstacles in the shape of innumerable steep nullahs of red, sandy soil, but that by marching north-east we should travel over undulating grassy ground skirting round a small range of hills. This latter route we decided upon, with the hopes of marching due east again before very long. We also made up our minds to try and find a good camp where we could halt for two days, so that during that time we could send off men north and south, with food to last them, in order to search for signs of people. Even if the men were not successful in their object, still we reflected that the animals would be gaining strength and a complete rest all the while.
At 3.45 a.m., 23rd June, Camp 36, we were drinking our cocoa with chupatty in the open, without feeling any discomfort from the cold, preparatory to marching. We required neither gloves nor coats, and we almost imagined we were about to start for an early morning shoot in the Indian plains. For the next two days we made successful double marches, inasmuch as there were no transport disasters. As usual, we dug for water, and found it brackish for our labours.
Towards the end of the second day, we came to a small nullah with beautifully green grass, and two tiny pools of water almost fresh. Imprinted on the moist sandy soil were marks of kyang, antelope, and yak. Evidently we had hit upon a favourite drinking resort of game, and accordingly pitched our tents just out of sight but close to the pools, expecting to get as much food as we wanted, for it was no easy matter to keep ourselves supplied in meat. Although we stopped here a day, the only game that came for his drink was a cock sand-grouse, who suffered the penalty of death for his intrusion, while just above the camp was an old hen, who sat undisturbed upon her nest. We should have had to be a good deal hungrier than we were before we could have found it in our hearts to kill her.