In camp 48 we remained fully three days inactive, and the south wind howled continuously: “Patience! Patience!” To us the days seemed very long, but the animals must have rest. On the first morning horse No. 39 lay dead on the ground, and was entered with the same number in the list of the dead.
The wolves were impudent, and howled just outside our camp, but they were more polite after Tundup had shot a brute, which ran off on to the ice, and lay down to die in the middle of the lake. The scoundrel soon had as companion a raven, which had taken into his head to peck the manes of the living horses and disturb them while grazing. At nine o’clock in the evening the thermometer indicated −6°, and in the night −18½°.
In the morning Muhamed Isa reported that the dung-gatherers had discovered something which they described as ruins of stone houses. Robert and I went at once to look at them. We found that there actually were three quadrangular walls constructed of slabs of schist, probably of very ancient date. They rose but just above the ground, and on digging we discovered that they went down fully 3 feet. Probably they had been constructed only as foundations and wind screens for permanent tents, for such walls were afterwards met with on several occasions. There was no trace of a hearth. The Ladakis, who had travelled much in west Tibet, thought that the place had once been the permanent abode of some Changpas who had wished to avoid paying taxes to the Devashung, or the Government in Lhasa.
At any rate this discovery had a very encouraging effect on us. We had not seen men for 65 days, and now we found the first sign indicating their proximity. We felt invigorated, and the tale-teller in Muhamed Isa’s tent in the evening was longer winded than ever. He sang a song, all joining in the chorus. Now we must keep a sharp look-out in the country before us, for this first sign of man must surely be succeeded by others.
The caravan moved on towards the east-south-east on October 28 in a very violent south-west storm. A mule had died in the night, and so we had 36 baggage animals, but since the last inspection the provisions had diminished by nearly three loads. In this camp, also, superfluous articles were left behind. I threw away Sonja, by Blicher-Clausen. Robert and I sat at the morning fire, while the men saddled the horses, and I amused myself by tearing out one leaf of the book after another and throwing the whole collection into the air, where the wind swept the flying leaves with tremendous velocity to the north-east. The ten ravens puzzled their heads as to what new species of flying creatures they could be, but made little effort to get out of their way, and the dogs soon gave up the attempt to pursue the leaves; but one of Tsering’s pack-horses was so alarmed that it shied, broke loose, and rushed up the hills, and was not caught again for a good half hour. Meanwhile Sonja swept on, fluttering over mountain and valley, much to my satisfaction, for I had felt annoyed the evening before because she left her good-hearted husband. When and where would these leaves come to rest after flying over endless stretches of unknown country? Certainly a book has seldom had so wide a distribution.
We follow the track of the caravan in an open, flat valley between low mountains. After riding some hours we were so perished that we had to make a halt in a hollow way and light a fire. My small white Ladak horse was in excellent condition; he treated the cold and other disagreeable incidents with philosophical calmness. The tall dapple-grey which I had ridden from Leh was usually off duty, for he showed symptoms of exhaustion. At this day’s camp there was no water, only snow in a cleft of the mountain. Yet we were in very high spirits, for the men had seen fireplaces built of three stones laid crossways, which were intended to hold a kettle. It must have been a long time, however, since they were used, for neither ash nor soot was seen among them. An iron ladle, too, was found, such as the Tibetans use to melt lead for bullets. So either robbers or hunters must have halted here sometime or other.
| 83. The Author, Robert, and Rehim Ali attacked by a Wounded Yak. |
CHAPTER XIV