On Midsummer Day we encamped by the roaring surf (15,577 feet), and on the 25th we crossed the last hilly mountain spur which still separated us from the extensive plain of Selipuk. From its height we again saw the great chain of Sur-la, and to the south the Trans-Himalaya with sixty-three snowy peaks, regular as the teeth of a saw. On the 26th we rode over level country to the west-north-west. On the plain two mounted Tibetans were pursuing a wild ass, which was wounded in the near foreleg and had four dogs at his heels. The dogs did not bite him, but tried to chase the animal in a certain direction. Time after time the men were close on the game and dismounted; they did not shoot, but threw up dust with their hands to frighten the wild ass and drive him as near as possible to their tent, that they might not have to carry the meat far (Illust. 356).
| 376, 377. Boys sitting.
378. Young Lama.
379. Old Woman. Sketches by the Author. |
Camp 439 was pitched on the bank of the river Sumdang-tsangpo, which flows into the Nganglaring-tso without joining the rivers Lavar-tsangpo and Aong-tsangpo, farther west, which unite and enter the lake’s most western bounds. Here Lobsang caught a wolf cub, a small wild rogue, which much interested Takkar. But Takkar had a great respect for his hereditary enemy and ventured to bite only his tail. Afterwards he became bolder, and when the little creature found himself in a desperate situation, he threw himself into the river to swim over to the other side. Then Takkar gave a yell, jumped in and caught the cub, thrust him down with his paws, seized him with his teeth and brought him to land, where he ate every bit of him.
We followed the river upwards on June 27 and encamped again on its bank opposite the monastery Selipuk-gompa (15,696 feet), the abbot of which, a Kanpo-lama, Jamtse Singe, was also chief of the district in secular affairs (Illusts. 356, 374, 369, 341). Neither he nor any one else had heard anything of Abdul Kerim, but he was so good as to search in his holy books to find out where our men were, and he came to the conclusion that they were somewhere to the south, and that in twenty days we should either meet them or hear some reliable news of them.
On June 28, at half-past nine in the evening, the country was shaken by an earthquake—the only one I ever experienced in Tibet. However, it had no effect on the good relations between me and the monks and Sonam Ngurbu, the Governor (Illusts. 326, 375), who was also a guest in the monastery, and had a high lama from Chokchu (Illust. 355) in his party. The Governor gave us as much tsamba, rice, and sugar as would at a pinch last us till we came to Tokchen, and he received a watch in exchange. Of money we had only a few rupees left. I had never been in such straits before. If I ever meet Abdul Kerim again, I thought, he shall get what he deserves and a little more.
When we set up our tents on the last day of June on the Rartse plain, south of Selipuk, Lobsang announced at dusk that four men and four mules were coming to the camp. They were Abdul Kerim, Sedik, Gaffar, and a Tibetan. Our caravan bashi came frightened and confused to my tent, and I thought it better that he should give an account of his stewardship before I passed sentence on him. He reported that they had come to the appointed rendezvous at the proper time, but there he had been hard pressed by six Govas—Gova Parvang among them, who took the lead, and ordered them to leave the place at once and go on to the Tarok-tso. As they had no passport from Lhasa, they could expect no mercy, he said. So they betook themselves to the northern shore of the Tarok-tso, where they waited fourteen days, as the grazing was good and no one interfered with them. They heard contradictory reports about us. At length a nomad died on the lake shore, and a monk from Lunkar-gompa was summoned to his tent to read the prayers for the dead. They met this man, and he said that we had passed the monastery nine days previously. Then they packed up all their belongings, intending to hurry after us next morning. But horse-stealers had come in the night and stolen my grey Tikze horse and a mule from Saka-dzong. This event cost them three days, but they never recovered the stolen animals. While Suen, Abdullah, Abdul Rasak, and Sonam Kunchuk followed slowly, the three others made forced marches westwards, and now at last they were here and had all our cash with them. Abdul Kerim escaped with a slight reprimand, but I afterwards heard the other men badgering him. We found the others in Kyangrang, and so the whole strength of the company, thirteen men, was complete when, on July 8, we crossed the pass Ding-la (Illust. 213), 19,308 feet high, the loftiest pass we had crossed in all this journey in Tibet, and on past the small lake Argok-tso, which lies in the basin of the Aong-tsangpo; and on July 12 we crossed the Surnge-la (17,310 feet). Two days later we came to Tokchen, where another political entanglement detained us nine days. But I cannot stay to give an account of it, for I reached the limit of the space allowed me at Chapter LXIV., and my publisher is impatient.
CHAPTER LXXIII
THE TRANS-HIMALAYA