The next day we left the river, hitting it off again before halting. During the night the mules once more strayed, and prevented us from marching the following morning. Perhaps they had been taking shelter from another storm that had visited us. As the morning was fine we were not in the best frame of mind at having to wait till they were found. Yet we had plenty to do in writing, and mapping, and cleaning all our guns, etc. As we marched off in the afternoon, I was ahead carrying my shot-gun, and suddenly came close upon a goa. Although he was stung with No. 2 shot, he unfortunately managed to escape into the grassy hills. That evening another storm broke over us, just as we were flattering ourselves that we had escaped.
A yak probably carries his heart very low, for most of those which were shot received the bullet just behind the shoulder, yet on opening the dead body, we never found any wound inflicted on the heart itself. We were glad that the yak was provided with such internal arrangements, for the heart was the tit-bit of the animal. It was so tender that it could always be eaten directly after death. The kidneys were excellent, the liver was fair, and the tongue as tough and as hard as wood, according to our way of curing it. The probability is that, with proper means, the tongue would have been the most toothsome bit of any. The flesh itself was, as a rule, tough, even after several days' keeping, and was never as tender as the flesh of the kyang, but although close-grained, it was very sound, nutritious meat.
The choicest part of the wild donkey was its heart. I fancy the flesh of this animal, when we had stored it up for several days, had more flavour to it, a flavour, too, which was peculiar to the animal itself. As for antelope and goa, every particle of flesh was juicy and tender, and was always eagerly devoured by us all.
A DEAD ANTELOPE.
On the 29th August, when we vowed our three mules were worth their weight in gold, for with heavy loads they plodded most pluckily through the sodden soil, and over nasty, deep, stony nullahs, I happened to be walking on higher ground along the side of hills. I had my shot-gun and was after hares, for we were all very fond of them. Quite by chance I came upon the first sign of man's work. I had found a māné. A māné is a heap of stones, consisting of only a few or of thousands, upon which are inscribed sacred sayings. They are common all over the country, wherever Tibetans live. This particular māné consisted of three stones placed edgeways in the ground, and forming three sides of a square. Resting on these was a fourth stone, and they all bore inscriptions. This was a great find, and I shouted and waved to Malcolm and the men below, two of whom were soon eagerly making their way towards me to learn the news.
All were buoyed up with hope of soon meeting people, and when we halted after our first march, all were full of suggestions and expectations, and looked forward to once more getting some flour, mutton, salt, sugar, and butter. In two days at the most we calculated nomads would be found.
On one green hill we could see hundreds upon hundreds of yak grazing; there was, I believe, more yak visible than hill. We were particularly partial to these animals, for the reason already given on a previous page. The fat of the yak was so precious to us that we used to boil down every ounce of it, and put it into our old cocoa tins. These cakes of yak's fat were very much appreciated by all. We used to knock off bits of it and eat it as if it were Everton toffy.
We found that to cross the river would have been hazardous, but we discovered that, after winding round to the left, it made a sharp bend to the right again, and at this point rose up precipitous cliffs, forming the basis of high hills. We should, therefore, either have to go round or over these hills. The former would have taken days, and probably have led us out of our depth altogether. In such a situation we had no choice, and commenced to climb them.