On the other side we ascended to a small pass where there was a splendid view over the ridge, which seemed to run west-south-west from Sha-kangsham and which barred our way to the south. Abdul Kerim, Kunchuk, and Sedik went with an exhausted mule to a few tents standing to the right of our route, with the object of bartering the worn-out beast for a couple of sheep, but the nomads said they would not take it as a gift. Instead, our men bought rice, sour milk, butter, salt, and a sheep, so that we were provided for some days. From the camp also Abdul Kerim took a long walk to some tents in the neighbourhood. Now poor Abdul Kerim had to do penance for his sins, and if he had erred in taking too little barley from Ladak, he made up for it by his conduct on this adventurous journey.
From camp 360 the highest peak of Sha-kangsham lay south, 73° E. (Illust. 317).
Takkar is still irreconcilable, and heartily detests Kunchuk who bought him. But he also barks at us as soon as we show ourselves outside the tents. On the march he is resigned as long as he is near our new horse, but at other times he is savage. The only one that dares go near him is Little Puppy, who teases and sports with him and bites his ears. Takkar treats Little Puppy with supreme contempt, and only when the young one presumes to snatch his new uncle’s food he growls angrily, but then Little Puppy pricks up his ears, puts his head on one side, and looks at him. He little thought that the new dog could have bitten off his head like a chicken’s if he had wished. In reality, Takkar was glad to have a playfellow in his captivity, though at first he held himself aloof to maintain his dignity.
The next morning Lobsang and Tubges went back to the nomads’ tent and returned with three more sheep, a lump of butter, and a bag of tobacco. Their appetites were wonderful to behold. The others had left for them half a pot of tea mixed with butter, thick and red. One cup disappeared after another, and they emptied the pot to the last drop. Then they took some meat out, which they ate up like wild beasts. What was left they stuffed into their waistbelts, to have it handy in case they were hungry before we reached the next camp.
We continued on our way to the south, passing on our left hand an open plain which extended up to the foot of the skirts of Sha-kangsham. We passed tents and flocks at one or two places, and encamped on a hill of loose material beside a spring. The nomads around had nothing to sell, but gave Abdul Kerim much valuable information. On such occasions Kunchuk used to sit and secretly note down all the geographical names. Among other details we now heard that if we held on our journey to the south for seven days we should fall in with a rich merchant from Lhasa, named Tsongpun Tashi, who was wont to take up his quarters in winter in the heart of the Bongba province to sell tea to the nomads. We might be certain that if we came into the neighbourhood of his camp we should again be in a critical situation.
Now Lobsang and two weather-beaten Ladakis complained that they slept badly, because it was too warm in the tent. The former wore a set of underclothes, and above only a garment of thin woollen material. In this costume he had travelled all the way from Drugub, and slept in 72 degrees of frost with only a couple of sacks over him, for he had sold his skin coat to one of his comrades at the commencement of the journey. Only a Tibetan can survive such an experience.
On March 23 we struggled up to the Chaklam-la, which we also heard called Amchen-la. The path up to it is steep, and we moved exceedingly slowly up the ascent. The sheep and the two yaks beat us hollow. From the last tent the path was visible all the way up to the pass, so I was obliged to travel on foot, and I might have collapsed from palpitation of the heart and loss of breath if Lobsang had not gone behind and pushed me. The lives of two mules had been ebbing away during the previous days, so the animals were left where nomads could take possession of them. A black horse was also giving in, and the newly bought one had to take over his load. My grey horse was no longer worth much. Chaklam-la, with its 17,339 feet, was a heavy trial to us, and I was not delighted with the view which unrolled itself to the south—a labyrinth of mountains, where it was plain to see that the ranges all stretched from east to west. From the pass there is a steep descent to the river Sangchen-chu, which flows westwards. We encamped on its bank. Now Takkar was becoming resigned to his fate. He was certainly annoyed at being tied to the pole, but he found that he got good and plentiful food and that we were kind to him. He barked only at Kunchuk, whom he could never forgive.
When we broke up our camp on March 24, we hesitated whether we should make for the south-west or south-east, for high mountains rose to the south. If we went south-westwards we should come too near to Karma Puntso, and so we chose the south-easterly route. We had first to cross the ice of the river, 130 yards broad, where a path was sanded. The sheep had to be dragged over one by one by the horns, and the yaks would not venture on the ice till they saw that it bore the horses and mules. Gulam went first on foot, and had the usual order to give a sign if he saw a tent or shepherds. We had not gone far when he stretched out his left hand, which meant that I must dismount and go on foot while Abdul Kerim rode my horse. It was only a shepherd with his flock. As soon as the danger was past I exchanged places with the caravan leader.
A little farther on I found that I had lost my cigarette case, which also contained some unmounted family portraits and one or two pieces of sticking-plaster. It would be terrible if a Tibetan found it. Only a European could own such a thing. Lobsang and Kutus went back and searched along the track while I lay and waited on a bank. They found the case, and each received a cigarette as a reward, and we sat and smoked while Abdul Kerim with Kunchuk and Tubges went down to a tent, where there were only women, and bought some provisions. At the camp in the evening snow fell, and at night the thermometer sank to zero. Now we had only 21 sheep left, and we must try to increase our flock, or, still better, buy a dozen horses. In this region, and in Bongba generally, it was difficult to buy sheep. Everywhere the nomads complained that their flocks had been decimated by the cold, wind, and snow, and the pasturage was unusually poor, because the rains had failed at the end of the preceding summer. Sheep-breeding is their means of subsistence, and if they lose their flocks they are impoverished and can do nothing but wander about begging from more fortunate people. They have therefore a decided objection to diminish their flocks by artificial means, as we may say; the flocks must fluctuate, increasing in good times and diminishing in bad, but they must not be reduced by sale. Therefore they often refuse to sell even at double the proper price. Still harder was it to buy horses in Bongba.
In the night our animals wandered back to the former camp. While Lobsang and Kutus went after them most of the day slipped by, and therefore we remained at camp 363. Kunchuk and Tubges spied a tent in a valley to the south, where they bought rice, barley, tsamba, milk, and chura—a kind of cheese, so that we had food for several days. Thus we got our livelihood in small portions, bit by bit and from tent to tent. Our own flock had now shrunk to 21 head, all carrying burdens.