Mysterious footprints--Brigand or spy?--Passes and
tracks--Intense cold--No fuel--A high flat plateau--Fuel at
last!--Two spies in disguise--What they took us for.
IN a hurricane of grit and drenching rain we packed up our traps as best
we could and again started on our way. I was slightly in advance when, to
my surprise, I noticed, some two hundred yards only from camp, a double
line of recent footmarks on the snow. Those coming towards us were
somewhat indistinct and nearly covered with grit, those going in the
opposite direction seemed quite recent. After carefully examining these
footprints, I felt pretty certain that they had been made by a Tibetan.
Where the footprints stopped, marks in the snow showed that the man had
at different points laid himself flat on the ground. No doubt we had been
spied upon and watched. My own men had shown many signs of terror ever
since we had crossed to this side of the Himahlyas, and were now all
anxiously stooping low over these prints and speculating on their origin.
Their excitement and fear were strange to watch. Some surmised that the
man must be a _Daku_, a brigand, and that in the evening we should be
attacked by the whole band; others maintained that the spy could only be
a Sepoy sent by the Gyanema officers to watch our movements. In any case,
this incident was held to be an evil omen, and during our march in a N.W.
direction along the bank of the river we continually saw the trail. The
wildest speculations and imaginations were rife. To the left of us we
passed the valleys leading south to the Neway Pass; then a second to the
Kats, 230° (b.m.). The bearings were taken from the mouth of the river
descending from it, a tributary of the Darma Yangti.
[Illustration: SPIED]
Six miles from our last camp, at bearings 340°, was the Luway Pass.
We were travelling on flat or slightly undulating barren ground. We waded
across another cold river with water up to our waists, and my men became
so exhausted that one mile farther we had to halt at 16,650 feet.
The cold was intense, and again we had no fuel of any kind. A furious
wind was blowing, with snow falling heavily in the evening. My carriers,
half starved, ate a little _satoo_, a kind of oatmeal, but Chanden Sing,
a Rajiput, could not, without breaking his caste, eat his food without
undressing. It was two days since he had had his last meal, but rather
than infringe the rules of his religion, or take off his clothes in such
frigid regions, he preferred to curl up in his blanket and go to sleep
fasting.
The doctor left the warmth and comfort of blankets to go and talk with
the men, and get their views about weather prospects and the chances of
our route. I preferred the comfort of such warmth as I could get in our
tent, where the temperature was 28° Fahr., or four degrees below
freezing. The snow was lying a foot deep, and it was still falling
heavily. The carriers were all attempting to sleep, huddled as close as
possible to each other for warmth; they refused to move, saying they
would rather die, and we found it convenient to believe them, and get
what warmth and sleep we could under blankets in the tent.
Two or three hours later the weather cleared. The coolies, half starved,
came to complain that they were again unable to find fuel to cook their
food, and that they would leave me. The position of affairs was critical.
I immediately took my telescope and clambered to the top of a small
hillock. It was curious to note what unbounded faith the coolies had in
this glass. It was evident that they believed in a childlike fashion that
I could see through mountains with it. I came down with the reassuring
news that one day's march further would bring us to a fine supply of
fuel.
They cheerfully hastened to pack up the loads, and set forth with unusual
energy in the direction I had pointed out. We followed a parallel line to
the high flat plateau on the other side of the stream, the slopes of
which, in relation to the plain we were standing on, were at an obtuse
angle of about 115°. The snow-covered plateau extended from S.W. to N.E.
Beyond it to the N. could be seen some high snowy peaks, in all
probability the lofty summits S.E. of Gartok. At the point where the
Luway joins the other three rivers there is a direct way to the summit of
the tableland, along which it continues across the Himahlyas by the Luway
Pass. To our right we were flanked by high rugged mountains, with an
occasional precipitous torrent. Six hours' brisk marching took us to a
sheltered nook, where a few lichens and shrubs were growing. If we had
suddenly descended into the Black Forest of Germany, or the Yosemite
Valley, with their gigantic century old trees, our delight could not have
been greater. As it was, the highest of these shrubs stood no higher than
six or seven inches from the ground, while the diameter of the largest
piece of wood we collected was smaller than that of an ordinary pencil.
With feverish activity all hands went to work to root up these plants for
fuel.
When night came, the same number of hands were busy cooking and
transferring with alarming celerity such steaming food as was available
from the different fires to the mouths of the famished coolies. Happiness
reigned in camp, and all recent hardships were forgotten.
A fresh surprise was awaiting us when we rose. Two Tibetans disguised as
beggars had come to our camp. They professed to be suffering from cold
and starvation. I gave orders that they should be properly fed and kindly
treated. On being cross-examined they confessed that they were spies sent
by the officer at Gyanema to ascertain whether a sahib had crossed the
frontier, and whether we had seen anything of him.
We had so many things to attend to in the morning, and it was so cold,
that washing had really become a nuisance, and I for my part gave it up,
at least _pro tem._ We were sunburnt, and we wore turbans and
snow-glasses, so the Tibetans departed under the impression that our
party consisted of a Hindoo doctor, his brother, and a caravan of
servants (none of whom had seen a sahib coming), and that we were now on
a pilgrimage to the sacred Mansarowar Lake and Kelas Mount.
Before the men we treated this as a great joke, but, all the same, Wilson
and I anxiously consulted as to our immediate plans. Should we make a
rapid march during the night over the mountain range to our right, and
strike east by the jungle, or should we face the Gyanema leader and his
soldiers?
We decided to meet them rather than go out of our way, and I gave orders
to raise camp immediately.