TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE
Some minor changes to the text are noted at the end of the book.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
EAST OF THE SUN
AND WEST OF THE MOON
[Illustration: THE AUTHORS AND THEIR SHIKARIES AT SRINAGAR, ON THEIR
RETURN]
EAST OF THE SUN
AND WEST OF THE MOON
BY
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
AND
KERMIT ROOSEVELT
ILLUSTRATIONS FROM PHOTOGRAPHS TAKEN
BY K. R.
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
NEW YORK · LONDON
MCMXXVI
COPYRIGHT, 1926, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
COPYRIGHT, 1925, 1926, BY INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE CO., INC.
Printed in the United States of America
[Illustration: colophon]
TO
JAMES SIMPSON
WHO MADE THIS TRIP POSSIBLE. OUR ONE
REGRET IS THAT HE WAS UNABLE TO
BE OUR COMPANION ON IT
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. PLEASURES OF ANTICIPATION . . . . . . 1
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
II. FROM THE VALE OF KASHMIR TO THE BARRENS OF
LADAKH . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
KERMIT ROOSEVELT
III. OVER THE LOFTY PASSES OF THE HIMALAYAS TO
YARKAND . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
IV. DESERTS AND OASES OF TURKESTAN . . . . . 72
KERMIT ROOSEVELT
V. BEYOND THE LAST BARRIER TO THE PROMISED
HUNTING-GROUNDS . . . . . . . . . 98
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
VI. IN THE HEART OF THE HUNTING COUNTRY. IBEX,
SHEEP, AND BEAR . . . . . . . . . 128
KERMIT ROOSEVELT
VII. THE ASIATIC WAPITI OF THE TIAN SHAN . . . 155
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
VIII. CHINESE TURKESTAN: THE TEKKES TO KASHGAR . . 183
KERMIT ROOSEVELT
IX. THE PAMIRS AND THE POLI . . . . . . 211
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
X. ACROSS THE WINTRY HIMALAYAN PASSES BACK
TO KASHMIR . . . . . . . . . . . 244
KERMIT ROOSEVELT
APPENDIX . . . . . . . . . . 275
INDEX . . . . . . . . . . . 281
ILLUSTRATIONS
The Authors and Their Shikaries at Srinagar, on Their Return
_Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
Suydam Cutting and George Cherrie in the Heart of the
Himalayas . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Route Map of the Expedition . . . . . . . . 8
A Ladakhi Dance in Leh . . . . . . . . . 18
Jemal Shah, the Cook, Beside a Wall of Prayer-Stones . . 18
Down the Ladakh Slope of the Zoji La . . . . . . 30
On the Summit of the Zoji La . . . . . . . 30
The Zoji La . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
Mulbeck, a Town in Ladakh . . . . . . . . 34
Leh . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
A Kirghiz Yourt Near the Sanju Pass . . . . . . 46
Yaks Climbing the Khardong Pass . . . . . . . 50
A Thibetan Antelope . . . . . . . . . . 50
C. S. C., T. R., K. R., and Abdul Hamid go to Call on the Amban
of Yarkand . . . . . . . . . . . 78
The Fair at Yarkand . . . . . . . . . . 84
Ferrying Across the Yarkand River . . . . . . 84
Pack-Ponies Fording the Muzart River . . . . . . 104
A Camel Negotiates the Muzart . . . . . . . 104
Crossing the Muzart Glacier . . . . . . . 108
Ismail Bey with K. R.’s Siberian Roe Deer . . . . 120
Rahima with an Ibex Shot by K. R. near Khan Ayalik . . 120
Loose Leading a Pony Laden with Products of the Tian Shan 132
Tula Bai and Khalil Spying for Ovis Karelini . . . 132
Khalil with the World’s Record Ibex Head . . . . 144
Khalil with the World’s Record Ovis Karelini . . . 144
The Record Karelini . . . . . . . . . . 152
Nurpay and the Bear . . . . . . . . . . 152
A Kirghiz Grandmother Moving House . . . . . . 164
A Kalmuck Marmot-Hunter . . . . . . . . 164
Wapiti Country . . . . . . . . . . . 172
Khalil, Nurpay, and a Tian Shan Wapiti . . . . . 172
A Kalmuck Wedding . . . . . . . . . . . 192
Through the Muzart Glacier . . . . . . . . 194
Theodore Roosevelt and Kermit Roosevelt in Tian Shan
Hunting-Kit . . . . . . . . . . . 196
Kichik Kara Kul . . . . . . . . . . . 222
An Early Morning Start After Ovis Poli . . . . . 222
A 53-Inch Ovis Poli . . . . . . . . . . 226
Rahima, Palang, Khalil, and T. R. with T. R.’s Big Poli 252
Baltit in the Hunza Valley . . . . . . . . 266
Crossing the Burzil in Winter . . . . . . . 270
Territory Covered in the Course of the Expedition . . . 274
EAST OF THE SUN
AND WEST OF THE MOON
CHAPTER I
PLEASURES OF ANTICIPATION
“Now the girths and ropes are tested,
Now they pack their last supplies.”
—RUDYARD KIPLING.
When I was defeated for Governor of New York I got an involuntary
holiday, and fortunately my brother Kermit could adjust his affairs
and free himself for the coming year. For years he and I had been
planning to make an expedition together. Time and again we had to put
it off, because when one could go, the other could not. This year
conditions shaped themselves to make it possible.
There were many delightful short trips we could have taken with
reasonable comfort. We decided, however, that these should be saved
for a later day when we had qualified for the grandfather class. We
felt we should take the hard trek now when we were still in good
condition physically, before we “carried too much weight for age.”
Though I have done a certain amount of roughing it and hunting during
my life, compared to Kermit I am a beginner. Every continent has seen
the smoke of his camp-fires. He was on the expeditions made by my
father to Africa and South America. His business is shipping, which
takes him all over the world, and as a result he has been able in
the course of his work to hunt in India, Manchuria, and various parts
of the United States and Mexico.
Though hunting in itself is great sport, without the scientific
aspect as well it loses much of its charm. Therefore, we decided that
any expedition we made would be organized along scientific lines.
Both Kermit and I are much interested in natural history and have
been for years. Through my father, originally, we met naturalists
the world over. When I was knee-high to the proverbial grasshopper I
remember delightful days spent with John Burroughs and others, who
saw in the woods ten times more than the ordinary individual sees.
Our thoughts turned to central Asia. As a matter of fact, this had
always been the Mecca of our desires. Though one of the oldest
countries in the world, it is one of the least known. In the northern
part the Mongol tribes originated, who swept like flame over Asia and
half of Europe. Through it the great caravan routes run, over which
trade passed before Rome was founded, when Egypt was the world-power,
and elephants were hunted on the Euphrates. These caravan routes
are practically the same to-day as they were when a few adventurous
Europeans pushed east over them in the late Middle Ages.
Roy Chapman Andrews and his expedition have covered the Gobi desert
and the surrounding territory, and will reach the Altai mountains,
and probably Dzungaria. It would have been duplication of effort for
us to strike for the same country, so we decided we would make our
general objective farther south and west.
Besides this we had in our minds Kipling’s verse from “The Feet of
the Young Men”:
“Do you know the world’s white rooftree—do you know that windy rift
Where the baffling mountain eddies chop and change?
Do you know the long day’s patience, belly-down on frozen drift,
While the head of heads is feeding out of range?
It is there that I am going, where the boulders and snow lie,
With a trusty, nimble tracker that I know.
I have sworn an oath, to keep it, on the Horns of Ovis Poli,
For the Red Gods call me out, and I must go.”
We therefore fixed on the Pamirs, Turkestan, and the Tian Shan
mountains as our objectives. There in the Pamirs lives ovis poli,
which is conceded by sportsmen the world over to be one of the finest
of all game trophies. Ovis poli is the great wild sheep of Marco
Polo, the “father and mother” of all the wild sheep. He represents
the elder branch of the family of which our bighorn is a member, and
makes our bighorn look, in comparison, a small animal. He lives in
the barren, treeless Pamirs. He was originally discovered about 1256
by Marco Polo, hence the name. Marco Polo says:
There are great numbers of wild beasts, among others wild sheep
of great size, whose horns are good six palms in length.... This
plain is called Pamier, and you ride across it for twelve days
together, finding nothing but desert without habitation or any
green thing, so that travellers are obliged to carry with them
whatsoever they have need of.
For a long time this was considered a romance, for any one was
willing to prove that no such animal could exist. It was allotted
a place with the unicorn and the phœnix. At last, some six hundred
years later, Lieutenant John Wood, an English officer, made his way
into the country, shot a sheep, and proved that Marco Milione—at
least in this instance—was speaking the truth. Indeed, if anything,
he was understating the case, for whereas he says that “these great
sheep have horns six hands in length,” the record head, a pick-up,
is seventy-five inches. This head belonged to Lord Roberts, the
famous “Little Bobs of Kandahar,” and was given him by the Emir of
Afghanistan. Not only is Marco Polo correct where he describes the
wild sheep but also the customs of the natives which he mentions are
practically unchanged from that day to this. Poor Polo, like many
another who has told the unknown truth, was branded a colossal liar
by his generation.
Beyond the Pamirs, the “world’s white rooftree,” lies the plain of
Turkestan. There the barren, sandy waste of the Takla Makan desert is
broken only by the oases and jungles that fringe the streams. These
rivers, turbulent, muddy torrents when they leave the mountains,
gradually shrink as they wind their way through the plain until
they finally disappear in brackish marshes in the desert. In the
jungles are Yarkand stag and many small animals and birds. Still
farther north, running across northern Turkestan, lie the Tian Shan
mountains, where two other great sheep live—the ovis ammon karelini
and the ovis ammon littledalei. There also lives the greatest of all
the ibex, whose horns measure between fifty and sixty inches. Besides
these, in this territory are snow-leopards, the great brown bear, the
Siberian roe, the Asiatic wapiti, and many other forms of wild life.
On this trek we would strike all climates, from the bitter weather of
snow-swept mountains to the blazing heat of sand-drifted deserts and
jungle-covered river-bottoms. The country was exceedingly interesting
from a scientific standpoint, because no comprehensive American
expedition had ever covered it, and there were to all intents and
purposes no collections of the wild life in our museums.
My brother Kermit and I were in no position to finance an
undertaking of this sort ourselves. Fortunately for us, the Field
Museum of Natural History in Chicago was interested in our plans,
and Mr. Stanley Field and Mr. Davies, director of the museum,
went to Mr. James Simpson to see if the money could be raised for
the undertaking. Mr. Simpson not only believes very strongly
in out-of-door life but also is a great advocate and backer of
scientific enterprise. Within an hour he had agreed to furnish the
financial support, and the James Simpson-Roosevelts-Field Museum
Expedition was born.
One of the real problems that confronted us on the trails of central
Asia was the difficulty of transporting equipment and supplies. Every
additional white man, of course, greatly increased the baggage that
must be carried. For this reason we had to keep our white personnel
to a minimum. We decided, therefore, that besides ourselves we would
be able to take only two others. Our first choice was George K.
Cherrie, a man of marked attainments as a scientist. Cherrie was with
my father and Kermit on their South American expedition. We got in
touch with him at once, and were delighted when he not only agreed to
come but was as enthusiastic as either of us.
For the fourth member, we asked a lifelong friend, Suydam Cutting,
who took photography for his particular work. Parenthetically, just
before we left the United States, Cutting and his brother won the
National Court Tennis Championship, and when he returned he won the
singles.
[Illustration: SUYDAM CUTTING AND GEORGE CHERRIE IN THE HEART OF THE
HIMALAYAS]
Perhaps one of the most interesting aspects of the expedition,
from a scientific standpoint, was the fact that it formed a link
in the great study that is now in progress to determine the course
of migration of animal life to this continent. In prehistoric
times Asia and North America were connected by a land bridge which
stretched across the Bering Straits. The theory is that most of our
mammal forms, including man, originated on the great central Asian
plateau, worked north following the receding ice-cap, migrated across
the land bridge, and then spread south over this continent. In other
words, our wapiti is descended from the ancestor of the Asiatic
wapiti, and our Indian from far-distant tribesmen of central Asia.
What I say does not mean, of course, that our forms are descended
from the forms now in existence in Asia, any more than man is
descended from any existing species of anthropoid ape. It means that
a common ancestor existed from which the present types evolved, and
from which in many cases both have varied largely. Naturally, as
environs tend to influence variation, those animals which remained
in the place in which the original stock lived have, as a rule,
varied least. In this country an extensive and comprehensive study
of mammal, bird, and reptile life has been made. In Asia, the Roy
Chapman Andrews expeditions have collected exhaustively the northern
and central varieties. The Field Museum Expedition adds the final
link to the chain by collecting the southwestern Asiatic specimens.
Our scientists in this country will then have at their disposal for
study a more or less complete series, stretching from the table-lands
of southwestern Asia north, and then down through our continent.
From this, in all probability, they will not only be able to prove
their theory but also to work out many other interesting problems
concerning variation.
The next problem confronting us was to determine our route and get
our passports. Getting into this part of Asia is difficult at best.
Three ways lie open. One is across China, one across Russia, and one
over the Himalayan passes north of the Vale of Kashmir. To cross
China we would have had to travel five months by caravan to reach our
hunting-grounds. The transportation of supplies we thought would be
chancy through the “Land of the Brown Bear.”
[Illustration: ROUTE MAP OF THE EXPEDITION]
We therefore decided to apply for permission to the British
Government to cross the mountain wall that protects India on the
north. Over these mountains, at one point or another, the majority of
the invaders of India have poured since the Aryans who left us the
Vedic hymns flooded down in prehistoric times to the Punjab. Here
the distances are not so great but “every mile stands on end.” Again
three choices offered themselves. We could go over the Hunza Pass,
or through the Leh-Karakoram route, or endeavor to work our way up
through Afghanistan. The first of these, the Hunza route, seemed to
us the most desirable for it landed us directly in the poli country,
the Tagdum-Bash Pamirs. This, however, proved impossible, for two
Dutch mountain-climbers, the Vissers, had already organized an
expedition to explore this region, and had obtained permits to use
this pass. Because of the great difficulty in transporting supplies,
only one expedition was permitted to go through there that year.
We then had left open to us the Leh-Karakoram and the Afghanistan
routes. The Afghanistan route was very difficult, and the natives
uncertain, to put it mildly. We did not wish to be “collected”
ourselves before we had a chance to collect any animals, so when we
failed of permission to use the Hunza we applied for permits to go by
the Leh-Karakoram route.
The Viceroy of India, Lord Reading, and the British Government most
kindly gave us permission. This, of course, was only part of the
permits we needed, for in the mid-Himalayas the sovereignty changes
from British to Chinese, and Turkestan and the Tian Shan are part of
the Chinese Republic. For poli-hunting, too, we might have to go to
the Russian Pamirs, so Russian passports were necessary.
We went to the Chinese Legation. They immediately extended to us
every courtesy. Not only did Minister Sze help us officially but also
he put us in touch with personal friends of his who were acquainted
with some parts of the country through which we intended to travel.
Mr. Sze told us frankly that he was not sure how much he could do, as
Turkestan is a very long way from the seat of government in China,
and the reins of authority are but lightly held. He said that he
would cable to Pekin. Knowing the effect an impressive document has
on people in the back-eddies of the world, we asked him also to draw
up for us the most gorgeous “to whom it may concern” he could make.
He entered into the plan, and found in the attic of the legation
a form of credentials long abandoned but resplendent with gold
lettering and seals. On it he wrote a long and flowery description
of us. More than once this stood us in good stead, for even when the
natives could not read they were awed by its splendor.
As there was no Russian representative in the United States, we had
to wait for the Russian visas until we reached England.
Naturally, we were on tenter-hooks while getting our permits, for
any slip-up would have driven the expedition on the rocks, and it
was impossible for us to wait and undertake it “some other year.”
As William the Silent observed when he decided to strike for the
Crown of England, it was a case of “Aut nunc aut nuncquam.” There
was general rejoicing in the Roosevelt family when word came that
everything was arranged.
At about this time we made the announcement of our plans. There are
those who say that Americans have lost the pioneer spirit. I doubt
if they would maintain this had they seen the flood of letters that
were received by the museum, Simpson, Kermit, Cherrie, and myself.
Literally hundreds of people from all over the country wrote asking
to go on the expedition. Nearly all of them either volunteered to
go without pay or to pay their expenses. Jew and Gentile, lawyer
and dock-hand, city-dweller from the East and rancher from Idaho,
they “yearned beyond the sky-line where the strange roads go down.”
Indeed, we even had applications from Canada, France, Russia, and
Germany. Here in this country, a large group were young fellows
just graduating from college. Next to them in point of numbers came
ex-soldiers, excellent men, whom we would have been glad to have with
us. Then there were hunting-men, and scientific and outdoor men of
all types; one minister applied to go as a missionary. Nor was this
entirely confined to the male sex, for a number of women, evidently
inspired by the exploits of the women explorers of this century,
wrote to us. One, I recall, wished to be a cook. Another felt that
stenographic work would be valuable. Some men went so far as to come
to New York to apply in person. Many of these people would have done
well on the expedition but, in a country where every additional ounce
of baggage counts against you, it is necessary to cut personnel to
the bone, so we had to refuse all applications.
Besides these came offers and suggestions of every kind and
description. They ranged from advice as to books that we should
take on the trip to special remedies for problematical ailments.
Naturally, a large part of them were taken up with suggestions for
rifles and equipment. Perhaps there is no more persistent crank than
the rifle crank. He has more theories to the square inch than there
are hairs on a dog’s back. One of these wrote to say that he had
arranged a rifle-trap by which the game could be made to shoot itself.
In addition to those who wished to give us things, there were the
usual host who wished us to give them things. Countless letters came
in asking us to bring the writer some “souvenir” when we returned.
One man wanted a dog, another wanted postage-stamps of the locality.
There are dogs in the Pamirs, but I am afraid that the man who was in
search of postage-stamps will have to wait many a long year before
his ambition is realized.
In selecting our outfit, we took as our first principle that we must
keep the bulk and weight down to the lowest extent consistent with
attaining the results we desired, and we decided to take from this
country only those articles which we felt we might not be able to get
in India.
First of all, of course, the question of rifles came up. Originally
we intended to take .405 Winchesters, but though the smashing power
of this arm is very great, the trajectory is hardly flat enough for
long-range shooting. For this reason we left these rifles in Kashmir
for use on our return to India. For central Asia we decided upon
two .375 Hoffman arms and two sporting model Springfields. Cherrie
took also a combination shotgun and rifle—valuable as a collector’s
gun—and an extra 16-gauge shotgun. For all the various arms we
carried a total of some 3,000 rounds of ammunition.
Our bedding-rolls were water-proof envelopes with eider-down between
the blankets. They were excellent, and kept us warm even in the
bitterest weather. We took telescopes, Zeiss binoculars, three little
still cameras, an Akeley movie camera, the regulation army emergency
ration, saddles, compasses, and a number of other small articles.
In the high altitudes where air is scant it is very difficult to
cook. An onion can be boiled literally for hours and still remains
hard as a rock. To cure this we bought a patent pressure cooker. It
was excellent. Not only did it give us hot food but it was so simple
and strong that even a native could understand it and could not break
it.
The scientific equipment consisted mainly of skinning-tools,
preservatives for the various specimens, and traps for the smaller
animals. For bait for the traps Cherrie took peanut butter and
raisins.
For literature we took the proverbial standbys: the Bible,
Shakespeare, and “Pilgrim’s Progress,” flanked by an odd assortment
of works: “The Ingoldsby Legends,” “Plutarch’s Lives,” “Mr.
Midshipman Easy,” “The Cloister and the Hearth,” Robinson’s poetry,
Kipling’s poetry, some of Molière’s comedies, and a number of others
selected equally at random. They were cloth-covered editions, easy to
carry, and valuable only for the contents.
An interesting feature of our equipment were four cougar hounds.
Kermit had suggested that it might be a good plan to take hounds,
and try to hunt the varmints of central Asia with them. There is in
central Asia a very rare tiger which no white man has ever shot.
Travellers have occasionally seen its tracks. We thought if we were
fortunate enough to come on signs of this animal, we might get it
with hounds when we would stand no chance with other methods.
We bought, therefore, two hounds from an old hunter in Montana, Bob
Bakker. Two more dogs were given us by Tom McHenry, of Mississippi.
The latter were descendants of the famous Rainey pack that was used
in Africa.
We had many amusing times with the dogs. To begin with, my brother
lives in New York City and I live in the country. Therefore, it was
foreordained through the ages that when they came East they should
stay with me until the time came for them to go. My wife runs the
place in the country. On it she has, besides four children, two dogs
of which she is very fond. Early in the proceedings, she advised us
that the hounds were not to be kept at Oyster Bay. We felt that it
was wiser not to debate the matter, so we said nothing. Fortunately,
they arrived the day I was going to Chicago, so I merely let her know
the dogs had come and then left town. I think the best account of
what happened then is given in the following letter from my wife to
my sister, Mrs. Longworth:
DEAR SISTER,
So far, I haven’t had much to do helping in the arrangements for
the trip, but what a change to-day! When they first planned to
hunt the long-haired tiger with cougar hounds, I said it was a
grand idea, provided I did not have to take care of any stray
hounds out here. Ted and Kermit didn’t say much in direct reply,
but talked a great deal about the rarity and phenomenal value of
the Montana hounds—equalled only by those of Mississippi.
Time went on. Day before yesterday, Ted said: “Oh, by the way,
the hounds are coming to-morrow. You can arrange about them all
right, of course!” I said feebly: “How many?” Ted said: “Maybe
a couple from Montana, maybe a couple from Mississippi. Four
perhaps—yes, that’s it, four—nice dogs, very.” Then he took the
train for Chicago.
Well, the hounds spent the night in Kermit’s laundry in town, and
Dick [Doctor Derby] was persuaded to take them out to me in his
car with Summers [Kermit’s chauffeur].
When they got here, I heard a racket such as never was, and went
out to find our entire household gathered to admire two of the
most delightful bloodhoundish animals I ever saw. My two puppies
were watching most disapprovingly from the top of a hill, and
later they retired discreetly to their kennels.
Summers said to me: “The other two dogs will be here to-morrow,
madam. Of course you won’t want to change their diet. They are
accustomed to seven pounds of meat apiece daily. Horse-flesh.
If you try to have it cooked in the house you won’t be able
to remain indoors. It is rather strong, but excellent for the
hounds. They should be taken for a run every day for exercise,
but you mustn’t do it, madam—you couldn’t hold them.”
I spent that afternoon motoring all around in a vain search
for the huntsman of the —— Kennels, whom I hoped to be able to
persuade to help me out with the food. Finally, I got him on the
telephone, and sounded exactly like Aunt —— buying tickets for
Cuba.
“My husband is going hunting in central Asia ... a most
interesting experiment ... cougar hounds, after long-haired
tiger.... The hounds are here now.... My husband has gone to
Chicago.... I know nothing.... Of course _you_ know more about
hounds than any one.... Oh! if you only _would_....”
He was coming around next morning at eight-thirty to see those
hounds. I had had two strenuous days in town, and had been
looking forward to oversleeping next morning, but, needless to
say, I was down-stairs waiting, hoping that I could arrange to
get, for this week and next, twenty-eight pounds a day of cooked
horse.
The telephone rang. He was detained, but would be over in the
afternoon. I had been going out that afternoon, but what did that
matter? I stayed in, and he never came at all. Those dogs ate
beef and dog-biscuit, and were glad to get it. They didn’t get
seven pounds apiece a day either!
In addition to all this, and more besides, the children are
having their Easter vacation.
One reason I want to come to see you is the idea of the long
peaceful train journey between New York and Washington!
E.
My wife put these dogs in the barn. She put the two strongest in the
strongest shed she had. The next morning they had broken down most
of the shed, and were almost loose. She then had them chained with
heavy iron chains. One of them broke his chain. She then had them
chained together, on the theory that if they got away, they would
not run so far. This was almost disastrous, because they thereupon
proceeded to try to eat each other up!
The cheapest way to get our equipment, including the hounds, to India
was to send it direct over one of my brother’s lines to Karachi.
Cherrie agreed to go with it. The last two days before Cherrie’s
departure we spent in feverish packing. We checked everything once,
then checked it back again. We kept lists of every box. Eventually,
Cutting was detailed to paint numbers on our boxes. He did it
thoroughly—so thoroughly, in fact, that he partially painted one
child and a library chair as well.
On the morning of the day that Cherrie’s boat went, we all gathered
at Kermit’s house, where the equipment had been assembled. We shoved
the last things into a trunk and then, in three automobiles, went
down to see Cherrie off. We divided the cougar hounds between the
automobiles. One sat on my lap in the front seat of our car. When
we got to the pier we found that there was only an iron gangway,
which the dogs could not climb, so we struggled on board, each with
a cougar hound over his shoulder. We took them forward and left them
tied to stanchions.
Next Saturday, April 11, Kermit, Suydam Cutting, and I sailed on the
_Leviathan_.
When we reached England, the first and most important thing we had
to do was to get our passports to the Russian Pamirs, where we
believed the largest ovis poli would be found. We went at once to the
headquarters of the Russian Trade Delegation, where Mr. Rakovsky,
the envoy, was very cordial. We presented our letters, and he told
us that he would be glad to give us the permit. We stayed to tea
with him. Before the revolution he had been head of a big mill in
Russia, and he discussed economic conditions the world over with wide
knowledge. What struck me most about the offices of the delegation
was the number of portraits, busts, and photographs of Lenin that
were everywhere. As far as this delegation is concerned, Lenin stands
first, and there are no seconds.
We then called on various hunters, travellers, and naturalists.
It was delightful meeting them, and they were invariably kind and
helpful. They put themselves out to aid us in every way. They
recommended for our party natives whom they knew, advised on the
best passes and trails, and suggested equipment. As they talked you
could see they imagined themselves back, pushing through snow-covered
mountain passes, and tramping in dust clouds over sere, sun-dried
plains.
[Illustration: A LADAKHI DANCE IN LEH]
[Illustration: JEMAL SHAH, THE COOK, BESIDE A WALL OF PRAYER-STONES]
We stopped in Paris just long enough to buy a few odds and ends.
These consisted mainly of presents for the natives. Some of the
country where we intended to hunt is so far from civilization that
money means little to the tribes who live there. We purchased an
assortment of knives, cheap watches, and similar articles. The best
of these were the most gorgeous buttons that ever graced a gown. They
were every color of the rainbow. There was not a subdued note amongst
the lot. The colors were chosen not to blend but to clash.
From Paris we went to Marseilles, where we took ship for the last leg
of the trip to India. Travel was light and we had the ship nearly to
ourselves. This gave us a splendid chance to study Hindustanee. We
had it for breakfast, we had it for lunch, and we had it for dinner.
I am not particularly good at languages, and I soon felt as if my
mind were like one of those kaleidoscopes in which colored glass is
continually shifting into patterns of meaningless design.
The weather was clear, the Mediterranean was sapphire blue. We passed
Stromboli at night. It was “acting up,” and every few seconds a
tongue of red flames stabbed the black of the sky. The birds were
migrating north from their winter in Africa, and, though we were out
of sight of land, many flew by the ship. One in particular, a dove,
came in under the awning and lit on a stanchion. Early one morning
I looked out of the port-hole and there, lying to the north, was a
rugged coast-line capped with a snow-crowned mountain. It was Crete,
the home of the sea-kings, and of one of the oldest civilizations of
which we have record.
We passed Port Said, where the real East begins, and where an
ethnologist would tear his hair in despair, for every race has
blended there for years, with a strange and weird result. Down the
Red Sea we cruised, with barren, sun-scorched desert shivering in the
heat haze on either hand.
One evening we reached Aden, built in the crater of an extinct
volcano. I can imagine no hotter place, for the sun beats down on
it and the rock walls guard it from every breeze. In fact, I should
think the inhabitants would be inclined to disagree with Kipling when
he says:
“Old Aden, like a barrack stove
That no one’s lit for years and years.”
The origin of the town is lost in the shadows of time.
It has always been a point of contact between Africa and Asia. People
have lived there so long that the valley is one great graveyard,
and one cannot dig anywhere without turning up bones. We saw the
water-tanks that supplied the old town. They are built of cement, the
process for making which is lost, and which is better than any we
make to-day. Their origin, like that of the town, is unknown. Behind
Aden, up the peninsula, lies Arabia Felix where the Queen of Sheba is
supposed to have had her capital.
From Aden we cruised over a changeless sea, until early one morning
Bombay with its clustered shipping loomed up out of the haze.
The first stage of our Odyssey was finished.