At length the other men came with Abdul Kerim riding at their head. Our coats and turbans were of the same colour, so that any Tibetans who happened to be watching could not tell if it were Abdul Kerim or I that was riding. I now took my horse and went on in front with my usual companions. At eleven o’clock the storm rose to a furious pitch and dashed in our faces. Driftsand swept over the ground in dense masses; we were nearly suffocated, and we seemed to stand still while the country moved past us at a giddy pace. We crossed the valley in order to follow its western flank. The clouds of dust obscured the sun; nothing could be seen beyond a distance of 20 yards; chaos surrounded us. We stopped to get our breath, and lest we should miss the others, but as soon as they appeared like phantoms in the mist we set off again. I have experienced many sandstorms in Takla-makan and the Lob-nor desert, but hardly any so bad as this was. In Turkestan one simply encamps when a storm comes on, but what is the use of encamping to await the end of a storm which lasts thirty days? We strayed among small dunes, and, though the valley fell in the direction we were travelling, we seemed as though we were mounting to a lofty pass in consequence of the pressure of the storm. The driftsand rattled against my dry, hard coat, which, from the constant friction, became heavily charged with electricity. About every other minute there was a discharge, and I felt uncomfortable and often painful prickings, especially in the soles of the feet, the hands, and knees. At every such discharge the horse also pulled up and became nervous. At last, when my grey Tikze horse refused to go further, and we had quite lost sight of the others, and could not see where we were going, we came to a halt and huddled together with our backs to the wind. The electrical discharges continued even now, but were weaker. If I placed the tip of a finger near Gulam’s or Kutus’ hand a small electric spark was felt and seen, and both of us felt the shock. The men were exceedingly astonished, and hoped it was not witchcraft.
We sat waiting for three hours, and were prepared for an uncomfortable night. But Kutus came upon the other men just when they were giving up all attempt to find us before night. We encamped among the dunes, and before long all articles which were set out in my tent vanished under a thick layer of sand.
On the morning of the 11th the storm had somewhat abated; and, wearied and stiff after our experiences of the previous night, we continued our journey southwards and encamped at a deserted sheepfold. By nine o’clock compact sandspouts twisted slowly over the plain like spectres, so the storm was again at its usual height. We had tsamba for only one day, but it did not count for much as long as we had such a good supply of meat. We were glad to get out of reach of the Gertse Pun; in this drifting sand it was impossible to find our trail—yes, even for our own dogs. Little Puppy did not miss his mother, but felt very important at being sole master on the ground, and barked at our sober sheep. It was, however, a serious matter for us that we were deprived of our night-watch in districts where we had most need of them. We must try to procure fresh dogs as soon as possible.
On March the 12th we marched the usual weary 6½ miles to the east-south-east through a fine, broad, longitudinal valley, and pitched our camp in a hollow full of rubbish. Our three tents were now always placed close together, so that, if any stranger came unexpectedly to my tent, I could crawl into Abdul Kerim’s without being seen from outside. My Ladak chapkan began to assume a more satisfactory colour, but we still did all we could to defile it and make it sooty and greasy. Little Puppy lent me his assistance by biting and tearing the sleeves so that they hung in rags. It would not be long before I had the appearance of a regular ruffian.
It snowed heavily all night, and in the morning the snow lay so deep, and the country was so thickly covered, that we thought it best to remain stationary. We were still farther removed from Brown Puppy, and it was vain for her to seek our trail. Perhaps it was providential that both she and the white horse were lost before they could betray us. Tibetans have wonderfully sharp eyes for animals, and recognize them again when they have seen them only once. Now the danger was over, for all the veterans had gone. Perhaps Puppy sacrificed herself that I might be successful! All the same, I seemed to see her wandering disconsolate and distressed about the desolate wastes in the north.
CHAPTER LXIII
THROUGH THE HIGHLANDS OF BONGBA
When I awake to another day of uncertain fortune and adventures life seems gloomy and solitary, and the longer the time the more I long for an end of my difficulties. When Gulam awoke me on the 14th, he complained that Abdul Kerim did not keep the watch I had given him in order; either the watch or the caravan leader was at fault, but he believed it was the latter, for the watch could not be blamed if it were wound up only every other day. Gulam affirmed that when Abdul Kerim was asked what o’clock it was, he always answered seven, whatever time it might be in the twenty-four hours.