IN THE LAND OF THE WILD YAK
We broke up our camp on the morning of October 29, after a night of 49
degrees of frost, at an early hour, so as to find water for our thirsty
animals as soon as possible. A small lake and two springs we passed were
frozen as hard as rock; beside one lay the skull of a yak, which had
evidently had its throat cut with a knife; we also saw two fireplaces on
the way, and at camp No. 50 a path, which, however, might have been worn
by wild yaks. We therefore were no doubt coming near to other men, and
we were always on the look-out for tents.
Next day the storm increased in strength, and it was only with the
greatest effort of will that I could use my hands for map-sketching. We
seemed paralyzed and could no longer think clearly. We were like the
field-mice, which run from one hole to another seeking to find shelter
from the wind and cold.
On arriving at a spring I slipped down wearily from my horse, and
thought I should be frozen before the fire was kindled. Muhamed Isa,
also, and four other men, were ill, and could not assist in setting up
the tents. When my tent was ready, I crept into bed in my clothes, boots
and all. While Robert and Tsering were covering me up with warm wraps I
was seized with violent ague, my teeth chattered, and my head ached
terribly. Robert, who had been trained in nursing in Dr. Arthur Neve's
school, now proved an excellent doctor, and took every care of me. As
soon as we were under cover he plunged into the study of Burroughs and
Wellcome's medical instructions. The Tabloid Brand Medicine Chest stood
open, as frequently happened, in my tent. Stanley, Emin Pasha, Jackson,
Scott, and many other travellers have prized this ideal travelling
dispensary as highly as myself. My case, a present from the English
firm, had been filled with especial regard to the climate of Tibet.
At ten o'clock at night Robert and Tsering undressed me. There were 47.9
degrees of frost in the night, and the storm howled dreadfully. Robert
took my temperature every two hours, and it rose to 106½°, high-fever
mark. As he told me after, he pondered whatever he was to do if I
remained for good at camp No. 51. I could not sleep, and Robert and
Tsering watched beside my bed in turn; glowing lumps of fuel were
brought in all through the night, and a burning candle was placed behind
a box, where it was protected from wind and draught. I was constantly
delirious and the men were much concerned, for they had never seen me
ill before.
Next day the fever had slightly abated, when Muhamed Isa slipped gently
into my tent to inquire how the Sahib was. He informed us that the
wounded yak was dead, and that, in cutting it up, two Tibetan bullets
had been found; also at three places hearths had been seen, which could
not be more than two months old, for ashes still lay among the stones.
So hunters had been here in autumn, and he was quite convinced that we
should soon meet with the first nomads.
It was still as the grave, only the storm howled and moaned. All the men
in the camp were afraid of disturbing me, but I gave orders in the
evening that they should sing as usual. I could not lift an arm without
help, and I lay hour after hour watching the curious lights in the tent.
Within, the stearin candle emitted a dull light, and the yellowish-red
blaze of the fire and the bluish moonlight penetrated from without. The
singing sounded melancholy and wistful, and was accompanied by the
howling of the storm.
On November 2 the storm still raged, having now continued to the sixth
day. I had slept a few hours, though the cold sank to 52° below
freezing-point. I was getting a little better, but I was still
extremely weak. Robert, who was troubled because his horse had died in
the night, read to me one of the novels we had stolen from Deasy's
depôt. Tsering and Rehim Ali massaged me in the Asiatic manner to
restore my strength. And so we arrived at the fourth evening. I had been
confined to my bed for four-and-eighty hours, the soil of Tibet seemed
determined to keep me, and perhaps I should be allowed only to dream of
the forbidden land at a distance.
Surely on November 3 the god of the winds must have said to the westerly
storm, "Six days shalt thou labour--on the seventh thou shalt become a
hurricane." Dust and sand penetrated the thin canvas and covered
everything in the tent. The men, who had led the animals to water, had
rings of dust round their eyes, and their faces were ashy grey. For my
part I felt like one of our poor worn-out brutes, which does not know
whether he will reach the next camp. Then I decided to remain here with
some of the men and some provisions, while Robert and Muhamed Isa went
in search of natives, whom they might send to fetch me. But no; I would
try to hold myself in the saddle, for I did not wish to remain in this
miserable fever-camp. I wore a whole wardrobe of winter clothes: several
trousers, my leather jersey, the ulster, fur coat, cap, and _bashlik_;
it was a heavy weight for my weak, tottering legs as I walked to my
horse and was lifted into the saddle.
We followed the shore of the small lake near our camp. But I soon
perceived, after nearly falling again and again, that the exertion was
too much for me, so we halted and lighted a fire. After a short rest we
rode on, and were delighted when at length we saw the smoke of our
caravan rising behind a hill, where it had camped by a source and had
found fireplaces erected last summer, with skulls and horns of tame
sheep around them. Yak dung was very plentiful; the source was,
therefore, a watering-place of wild yaks. A third of the men were really
ill, most of them suffered from headache, and all were more or less
indisposed. Robert alone was in good health, and he nursed us.
On November 5 the tracks of men became more frequent. A yak's skeleton
lay beside a hearth, and the ashes piled up among the stones could not
have been cold longer than the day before. We climbed up troublesome
hills and then descended into a gully leading down to a large valley
begirt with fiery red heights. A number of excavations, each with a heap
of sand beside it, attracted our attention. The sand contained gold, so
not ordinary nomads but gold-seekers had been here, probably every
summer, to dig for gold.
In the lower part of the valley warm springs burst forth with a
temperature of 57°, so that the water seems quite hot. A few yards
farther, however, it forms a large sheet of ice.
In the next valley, a hollow between precipitous terraced slopes, a huge
wild yak lay dead on the ground with twelve of our men standing round
it. Tundup Sonam had surprised a whole herd which had come down into the
valley to drink. The other animals had torn up the valley in headlong
flight, but this one, struck by a bullet, had made for the hunter, and
Tundup clambered up the edge of a terrace only just in time. The yak
remained at the foot, uncertain what to do, and received a second shot
in the heart.
I photographed him from several points of view before he was skinned. It
was not easy to raise him into a suitable posture; the twelve men had to
put forth all their strength. The raven-black coat of the beast formed a
strong contrast to the red soil; his long side fringes serve him as a
mattress when he lies down (Illustrations 68, 69).
On November 7 we skirted a lake; to the right we had steep mountains
with disagreeable cones of sharp-edged débris. Two troops of fine Ammon
sheep, numbering nine and five respectively, skipped with bold leaps
over the smooth abrupt rocks. Large numbers of hares were seen, and
frequently the holes of marmots where the inmates were still
hibernating. Two Tibetan cairns proved to us that we were on the right
way, that is, the one the gold-diggers use.
[Illustration: 84. REHIM ALI FALLS TO THE GROUND AND THUS RESCUES US
FROM THE FURIOUS YAK.]
Now we leave this part of the mountains on the right, and proceed along
the southern, open and extensive plain by the lake shore. There
grazed a herd of perhaps fifty yaks. Twenty antelopes, probably
frightened by the caravan, scampered away with elastic springs like the
shadow of clouds moving over the earth. Soon the tents and all the
details of camp No. 56 could be clearly distinguished, and we had only a
few minutes' march more, when even this short distance would have been
too far for one of us, if fate had so willed.
For close beside the tents, near our animals, a large black yak
appeared. Rehim Ali drew our attention to it, but we took no farther
notice of it. I took my last bearing of the tent, and was in the act of
laying down the ground on my map-sheet, when a shot cracked from Muhamed
Isa's tent, and the yak, evidently hit, rushed madly northwards. We
followed him with our eyes, expecting to see him fall. But no; he turned
and came running wildly towards us. Rehim Ali's face was contorted with
frantic fright, and he raised his hands to heaven, crying out, "Allah,
Allah, we are lost!" The brute drew near in a cloud of dust, his fringes
waved and flew about, and he lowered his horns for a rush. I did not
move, for I thought that he had not seen us and would turn back again,
but he held on his way and grew larger to the sight. Rehim Ali ran
screaming to the tents, but suddenly turned round, and as our horses
took fright and galloped off, he caught hold of the tail of Robert's
steed, hoping to follow us at a run. The wild chase swept quicker and
quicker over the plain, and the yak changed his course and made a
circuit towards us in a mad rage. His breath rose like clouds of steam
from his nostrils, his muzzle almost grazed the ground--he was ready to
catch his victim on his horns, toss him into the air, and stamp him to a
jelly under his forefeet. Nearer and nearer I heard him, panting and
gasping like a steam saw. Turning in my saddle I saw him about twenty
yards off, his small, fierce eyes blazing with fury and madness and
rolling so as to show the blood-stained whites. It was a question of a
second. I rode straight to the right; my horse and I would be the first
to be caught on the horns of the yak. Now the horses stretched their
legs like bow-strings. I tore off my red _bashlik_ and waved it behind
me to attract the yak and stop him, but he did not look at it. Then I
tore my belt off in order to take off my fur coat and throw it over the
yak's eyes and blind him, just when he was on the point of thrusting his
horns into the belly of the horse and stiffening the muscles of his neck
for the toss. A second more and the yak would hoist the horse, break my
back, and trample on my chest--I seemed to hear the cracking and
breaking of my ribs, and I well deserved it, for it was my fault alone
that all the animals left behind us had to suffer so much. Then was
heard a heart-rending cry of despair. As I turned quickly round, I saw
Rehim Ali with uplifted arms fall senseless to the ground, and the yak
turn and rush at him. He remained prostrate, a lifeless mass, and I saw
the yak, with lowered horns, and his purple tongue hanging far out of
his mouth, dash down upon him in a cloud of dust. Now all the horses
made off, and I had some difficulty to keep my seat on my grey Ladaki.
When I looked round again, a second later, the yak was running up the
valley with his dust cloud about him.
"Turn back and see if there is still a spark of life in Rehim Ali, and
if he can still be saved," I called out.
"Master, it is too dangerous, the yak is still near, and may come back.
Muhamed Isa and all the rest are running out of the camp to look after
Rehim Ali."
But I had already turned, and I rode to the fallen man. He lay dead on
his face with arms outstretched--both Robert and I thought, at any rate,
that he was dead. But when we had dismounted beside him he slowly turned
his head, and with a look of horror waved his hand, as much as to say:
"Do not trouble about me, I am dead as a mouse." We could not repress a
smile when, turning him over like a joint at the fire, we examined his
bones and joints, and found that the fellow was still sound, though
severely bruised. The yak had trodden upon the inner side of the left
shank, where a bloody stripe showed the mark of his hoof.
Two strong men bore the fallen hero to Muhamed Isa's tent, where he was
well tended by Robert. He seemed stupefied for several days, and we
feared that his adventure had affected his brain. He did not eat or
speak, and had to travel on horseback, and one of his fellow-countrymen
was told off to attend on him. After some time, when his head was clear
again, he was able to tell us his impressions. When he saw the yak
preparing to attack my horse, he turned round and threw himself flat on
the ground. Perhaps irritated by the red and violet _chapkan_ floating
about in the air, the yak left me, made an unexpected change of front,
and rushed with lowered horns on the fallen man. He had half
unconsciously made a quick movement to one side, and the horns had
struck the ground instead of entering his body, and so close beside his
head that Rehim Ali felt the panting breath of the brute in his face.
Then he lost consciousness, and did not revive till we came up, and then
he thought that the yak was on him again. He had intended to save
himself by this manoeuvre, and thereby had become our deliverer. After
the adventures he had taken part in lately he had an immense horror of
Tibetan lakes and wild yaks (Illustrations 83, 84).
Temperature--16½° on the night of November 28. One would expect that the
temperature would fall with the advance of winter, but it remains
constant, owing in great measure to our progress southwards. Beyond a
small pass we came to a new longitudinal valley, where the country was
open towards the south-east. Game was abundant, spoors crossed one
another in all directions, and two bold yaks awakened in us greater
respect than before. At six places we saw large herds of wild asses, and
antelopes grazed on the plains. We lost a mule here, and had now 16
animals of both kinds.
Another day's journey across flat country. We were traversing the large
white patch of unknown land, and were approaching Bower's route at an
acute angle, though we were still rather far east of it. A wild yak ran
across our path, and we wondered if it were our enemy of the previous
day. Where we pitched our camp, No. 58, we found some hearths which
could not be more than a couple of days old. Our excitement and
eagerness increased day by day; now the uttermost margin of inhabited
Tibet could not be far distant. As I let my eyes rove over these red or
black, snow-capped or bare crests, I could fancy I could perceive a
whole host of dancing notes of interrogation, some in fantastic
draperies, mocking us because we had ventured without an escort into the
forbidden land, others motioning us onwards, but all doubtful and
speculative. Step by step, day by day, with failing strength, we
approached the solution of all these questions. Any moment a troop of
mounted men might appear on the horizon, bringing orders from the
Devashung that we must immediately evacuate the country and retire
northwards.
I was still convalescent, went to bed at seven o'clock, and was not much
the better for it, for I always felt terribly languid. Tsering was very
despondent because I did so little honour to his cooking. "How can the
Sahib regain his strength if he eats so little?" he used to remind me.
He was a comical fellow, Tsering, as he marched day after day with his
stick in his hand at the head of his detachment, self-conscious and
pompous as a chanticleer.
Late at night we heard the dismal, long-drawn howling of wolves close at
hand. We could tell from the wild complaining tone that hunger had made
the brutes bolder and that the odour of fresh meat excited them. They
were on the other side of the source, and Tundup Sonam stole off to
scare them away by firing into the troop, though there was small chance
of hitting one in the darkness. The brutes retired, but in the night
chased our animals, which scampered off to the north as though there
were a fire behind them. But the men followed their trail, and found
them at dawn a good day's journey from the camp.
On November 10 we had good ground again, and saw to the east-south-east
a lake which looked like a bright white ring, the middle being deep
blue. Near this day's camp, No. 59, were clear traces of a man who had
driven five tame yaks to the lake. The footprints were at most three
days old, and excited a great stir in the caravan. We were undoubtedly
close to human dwellings, and I thought with regret of the interval of
nearly three months during which we had no cause to dread hostile
tribes. We held a council of war: should we as long as possible avoid
contact with men, and keep out of the way of their tents, so that we
need not turn back until further progress became quite impossible? Or
should we seek out the nearest nomads at once, and beg them for
assistance? At this moment Tundup Sonam ran up out of breath. He had
been scouting to the west and had descried a black tent. I immediately
sent him to it with two other men, and gave them a handful of rupees.
But the news they brought from this first meeting with human beings was
not particularly interesting.
The tent was inhabited by a woman and her three children. She had come
from the district of Gertse in the south-west, and had covered the
distance in twenty-five short days' marches. She had arrived seventeen
days before with her two husbands, but both had returned a few days ago
to Gertse, after they had filled the tent for her with wild-ass meat.
She was daily expecting her parents, who were to keep her company for
three months, during which time they would live on game--yaks, kiangs,
and antelopes. She owned a few yaks and a small flock of sheep, which
she and the oldest child tended and milked. The inside of the tent was
very wretched, but a warm fire burned in the centre. She knew that four
more tents were standing in a neighbouring valley. When Tundup Sonam
told her that we were a party of Ladakis on a pilgrimage to the holy
places, she replied that we had chosen a very bad route, and would have
done better to take a more southern road where there were men. Her
geographical knowledge was limited. The country in which we were now she
called Gomo-selung. The gold placers we had passed lay in the La-shung
country, and the lake at camp No. 55 she called La-shung-tso. My
servants, who had already been in Tibet, held that this information was
reliable, for they had heard the names before.
Now, then, the ice was broken. After seventy-nine days of complete
isolation from the outer world, some of our men, at least, had seen
human beings. But other connections would soon follow this lonely woman,
this daughter of the wilderness, this real lady of the mountains, and
again we discussed the line of policy we must adopt. The woman dwelt
alone, and no news of our approach could be conveyed through her
instrumentality to the south. We could, then, take the matter for the
present quite coolly as heretofore, and when we were surrounded on all
sides by nomads, among whom reports are rapidly dispersed, we must then
think of hastening our movements.
We granted the animals a day's rest, for the pasturage was good, and it
was pleasant to spend this day under canvas. The storm whistled and
howled through the grass and round the stones. Everything that was light
and loose was blown away, and the ground was swept clean. The sky was
cloudless and the air clear, the wild commotion was only in the layer of
air close to the ground, and the important part played by the wind in
the deformation of the surface was evident; in such a storm huge masses
of material must be removed from their original position.
In the night the storm ceased all of a sudden, and it became so still
all at once that I awoke. It was as though we had encamped by a
waterfall which in an instant ceased to roar. One starts up and wonders
what has happened, but one soon becomes accustomed to the stillness, and
finds the absence of the noise and the draught a relief.
[Illustration: 85, 86. THE FIRST TIBETANS.]