CHAPTER LXVI

IN THE ROBBERS' PARADISE

In former times the glacier tongues of Lunpo-gangri ran down into the valley, and traces of them were very conspicuous as we descended to lower country on April 16. The valley is quite full of old moraines, consisting exclusively of granite, and some of them are superficially concealed under fine matter and moss. We passed the large yak caravan again, which was encamping after a very short march. Evidently the men intended to stay over the next day, for the loads were taken off the yaks and piled up. When they mean to set out again the next day they leave the loads on the yaks, for they think it too much trouble to load and unload 350 yaks for a single night. They might stay for us as long as they liked; we should get in advance and pass by Saka-dzong before we were denounced. But no, it would be wiser to avoid Saka-dzong altogether; not to escape the sight of Muhamed Isa's grave, but not to needlessly expose ourselves to suspicion. It was perfectly evident that the authorities would wonder why a small party of Ladakis went along byways instead of following the great _tasam_, and they would hold an inquiry over us.

After the moraines came to an end we traversed a more open expansion of the valley, with luxuriant grass and millions of detestable mouse-holes. We were right glad when Takkar pinched the necks of one or two of these obnoxious rodents. Tubges supplied me with partridges, and one of our goats yielded me a drop of milk. From camp 383 Lunpo-gangri's summits are seen foreshortened, and one of them is as small as an umbrella. Several peaks are seen to the east-south-east, the continuation of the range, and it is not difficult to infer that Chomo-uchong, the isolated mountain beside the _tasam_, lies in the eastern prolongation of Lunpo-gangri. I took bearings of the higher summits in the neighbourhood from every camp, and shall hereafter make known the results.

The other men make the "Snorer's" life miserable. At eight o'clock he crawls into his lair beside the sheep, and immediately begins his wood-sawing. Some one yells at him, and he wakes up and makes some witty remark, which makes the men laugh, and he never loses his temper. In two minutes he is asleep again and sawing as hard as ever, and is roused by another shout. Only when the others have fallen asleep is he left in peace, and can saw as hard as he likes.

Little Puppy behaves splendidly, is lively, playful, and affectionate. At night he sleeps on the rugs at my feet and helps Takkar to keep watch. They are my companions, and it will be hard to part from them.

April 17. 0.7°. How long this winter has been! Now Lobsang has come to the conclusion that the yak drivers will not denounce us, for fear lest they should be called to account for not spying upon us better. We continue our way down the valley. How delightful only to go for some days to lower country. In some places we see summer camping-grounds; now the country is desolate and deserted.

The river carries down about 70 cubic feet of clear water per second; it has open water only in the middle, and elsewhere is covered with margins of ice 2 feet thick, and icicles hang from their edges. On the banks, field-mice dart about between their holes. The valley contracts and the river often skirts steep cliffs of schist. Most of the tributaries, and the largest of them, come from the chain which is the immediate continuation of Nien-chen-tang-la. The ice becomes thicker the more the valley contracts and the longer it is in shadow. We often cross it from one bank to the other, where it forms a bridge. Stags' horns are set up on a _mani_ heap; where do they come from? This valley runs between the two ranges like the Buptsang-tsangpo. On this day we never see a man or a tent.

In the evening a night owl again sat screeching above the camp, and the Ladakis were convinced that it meant to warn us against robbers. If these knew that a European with European weapons was in the caravan they would not attack it; but we were only Ladakis, and the Tibetans despise Ladakis and look upon them as cowards.

On the 18th we travelled southwards to the place (15,407 feet) where our valley enters the Rukyok valley, running down from the west-north-west, at the bottom of which some of the Lunpo-gangri summits were again visible. Still no men were to be seen, only numerous summer camping-places. Two horsemen rode past our camp on the other, right, side of the valley. What did they want? Were they spies? We had every reason to suspect a spy in every human being. No; they were kiang hunters from Gertse, who had left their home and were seeking new dwellings in another province, because of some unpleasantness with the Gertse Pun, the potentate whom we were carefully making away from. They informed us that we were a day's journey from Pasa-guk, where I had encamped the year before, and three short marches from Saka-dzong. It was hazardous to pass so near a governor's residence. Abdul Kerim bought one of the riders' horses for 100 rupees.

This day I put on for the first time a new Ladaki costume. The other was too warm, and, being red, was conspicuous among the others. The new coat was made of worn, tattered sackcloth, and was stained with ashes and soot. In this I looked just like the other men. Now I painted my face regularly every day, and he must be a very smart fellow who could find out that I was not a genuine Ladaki. We had hitherto got on remarkably well, and had only a day's journey to a place where I had been the year before. But the nervous tension increased more and more, and I wondered every morning what surprises the new day had in store for us.

April 19. As we were starting, two men passed on foot, driving before them 200 sheep laden with salt. Our way was the same as theirs and we had to pass them. While I drove our own sheep down the road, Abdul Kerim stopped and talked with the men, to draw off their attention; but we could see that they were interested in our strange party, and looked closely at us. I limped, thinking that the Tibetans had never seen a lame European, if they had seen any European at all. But the people had seen me in Pasa-guk and Saka-dzong the year before, and then I did not halt. I had come off well from our troublesome neighbours and also past the large yak caravan, which a couple of days ago had turned off another way but had now come into ours again. We met a large sheep caravan with a mounted party; a woman was said to be the wife of the Gova of Rukyok. The people we had just met were not so dangerous as those that followed.

We left the Rukyok river farther and farther to the right, and directly to the south appeared quite close the lofty summit which rises above Pasa-guk. We had left the salt-laden sheep and the yaks behind us, and we came at length to the bank of our old friend the Chaktak-tsangpo, which was considerably smaller than at the end of May and beginning of June the year before. Here we left the high-road to the south, and marched northwards along the Chaktak-tsangpo's right, or western bank, where we soon encamped on a meadow (15,203 feet).

When Abdul Kerim came back he was very solemn. He had had great difficulty in answering questions why we followed a byway along the Chaktak-tsangpo instead of taking the highway to Saka-dzong as all other travellers did. He had replied that we were sent to find out how much sheep's wool would be for sale in the country next summer. Then the men of the salt caravan had said: "You cannot be afraid of robbers; they frequent the mountains up here. Are you well armed?"

"Yes, we have two guns and some revolvers."

"You will want them. We see that you are peaceful people, so we warn you. Six days ago a robber band, eighteen men strong, each with his horse and gun, attacked a tent village here in the neighbourhood. They pillaged 3 tents, took 400 sheep and about 200 yaks, and made off by the road you intend to follow. Men were collected and sent after them, but two were killed and the others ran away. No one knows where the band is now. If you value your lives, keep a sharp watch at night. If they attack you, let them plunder you; you are only thirteen, and cannot defend yourselves."

This was why Abdul Kerim looked so anxious, and it was not to be wondered at. Now we also ran the risk of a night attack, as if it were not trying enough to travel in disguise by byways through the forbidden land. As long as there was daylight the animals were allowed to wander about and graze, but at dusk they were driven up near to the tents. In the evening the men could talk of nothing but robbers. Lobsang, who was a Tibetan himself, took the matter quietly. He said that there were organized bands of as many as a hundred men with a chief at their head, who ordered where raids should be made. But at this season of the year they sat round their fires and tried to look innocent. In his opinion the air must be warmer before they would move. If a robber was caught in the neighbourhood of Gartok, his head and one arm must be sent as a proof to Lhasa, he added. In the principal towns punishment is very severe. For theft an eye is taken out and a hand cut off. A Gova or other magistrate who catches a robber receives a reward or promotion, but one who neglects his duty is punished. We heard that the district near Geddo by the upper Raga-tsangpo is notorious as a regular nest of robbers, and is visited by professional freebooters from Nakchu.

In the twilight the Mohammedans among my Ladakis sang the same melodious hymn I had first heard at Kizil-unkur. "Allahu ekber" echoed among the rocky cliffs; "and it is very effective in protecting true believers against the wiles of the heathen." They had all at once become deeply religious again in the robbers' paradise. "Allahu ekber," God is great.

The night passed peacefully, and early the next morning it was reported that five horsemen were approaching our tents from the north. The field-glass reduced them to two men, a woman, and some yaks. They made a circuit as though they were afraid of us, but Abdul Kerim hailed them to get information about the road. Then we marched on directly eastwards along the northern bank of the Chaktak-tsangpo. The ascent was very gradual, the valley fairly broad and with abundant pasture. No tent was seen, but summer camps were numerous. A cairn marks the place where the Chaktak-tsangpo, coming from the north, 10° W., unites with its tributary the Gebuk-chu from the east. To the north-north-east rise two snowy peaks of medium height with small glaciers. It was evident that the Chaktak-tsangpo flows from the country to the north of them, for the deeply excavated transverse valley of the river could be clearly traced. The main river may carry down about 250 cubic feet in a second, and the affluent about 70. In this district the river is called Kamchung-chu; the name Chaktak-tsangpo (Charta-tsangpo, as it is incorrectly called by Nain Sing) is not applied to it above Pasa-guk. We encamped in the angle between the two rivers near a meadow where three horses were feeding. Their owners, who were bivouacking behind a projection near at hand, were from Rukyok and had lost many of their sheep in winter from disease, and had been to a warm spring to dip and save the remainder. We were here about due north of Saka-dzong and about two days' journey from it. But between us and the Governor's residence rose a ridge which is a link in the chain of Lunpo-gangri. In the evening and at night our watchmen fired, as usual, some revolver shots, to inform any chance robbers that we were on our guard.

April 21. As the tents were being taken down, our neighbours went by with 200 sheep. I turned my back to them and busied myself with loading a mule. Then I travelled with the sheep, for there were several more tents farther up, and I could not ride till we came to an uninhabited part of the valley. Several side valleys opened on the left, and at their ends could sometimes be seen a part of the main crest. We know absolutely nothing of the country to the north of it, but that it cannot be the watershed between the plateau and the sea is evident, and was shown by the Kamchung transverse valley.

After crossing the river twice over bridges of porous ice we encamped near a sheepfold where dry dung was plentiful. The last nomads had told us that next day we should come to a large tent, the property of an influential old man named Kamba Tsenam, who owned 1000 yaks and 5000 sheep. He would evidently be our next difficulty, and if we slipped past him the country would be open to us as far as Raga-tasam. We are satisfied when, as on this day, we have again gained nearly 9 miles without being interfered with; but how shall we fare to-morrow?--this is the standing question we ask ourselves every evening. It is certainly an advantage to travel along out-of-the-way paths where we escape notice, but if any sharp gova or governor hears us spoken of, he cannot help being suspicious of our strange proceedings, and institute a close inquiry. Now the salt caravan which we passed has already arrived at Saka-dzong; we are, indeed, to the east of that place, but we travel so slowly that we can never escape pursuit. Our excitement grows daily. I am tired and weary of this self-imposed confinement, and long for it to come to an end. What shall we do then? That I know not. We have penetrated so far that a crisis must come. I have managed to travel through Bongba, but my plans for the immediate future are very indefinite and depend on circumstances. We will get on as far as we can.

April 22 was a day when we knew that the definite crisis was coming very much nearer. Abdul Kerim, Kunchuk, and Gaffar set out first to pay a visit to Kamba Tsenam and keep his attention riveted on the sale of food and horses. We followed after, and crossed the river twice on cracking bridges of ice, kept along the northern bank, and passed a side valley, at the mouth of which stood three tents, where our men were in the midst of a group of Tibetans who were showing their horses. Gulam had warned me in time, so I dismounted and went and looked after our last mules. As soon as we were concealed by a bank terrace I could ride again. The pleasure did not last long, for at the next side valley on the north I had to dismount again before another tent, where a pack of savage dogs were encountered by Takkar and Little Puppy, who, save the mark, would help to defend us, but received a nip in the neck and had to be rescued. Here we lost Kutus and Tubges, who remained at the tent, while our diminished party continued on its way eastwards.

At a spur on the northern side of the valley a couple of elegant _mani_ heaps were erected, and by one of them a streamer pole was set up. It had snowed thickly ever since eight o'clock, but the valley was so narrow that we could not pass all the tents unseen. Just at the projecting point a large valley ran in from the north: we only guessed at it, for everything was hidden in the snowstorm. Gulam went a little way ahead and gave me the sign to dismount. Immediately in front of the point stood four tents and a small stone cabin, where a man stood watching us, and also a chief's tent of such huge dimensions that I never saw its like; it was as large as a house. Here we left Lobsang and Abdul Rasak, and went on eastwards with a much diminished party. The chief volume of the Gebuk-chu comes from the northern valley; in our valley, which we knew led to the Gebuk-la, only a brook was left. We set up our tents on the terrace at the mouth of a northern side valley. All the country was white, and not a shadow could be seen of the surroundings.

Our three tents stood as usual close together, mine with its opening up the valley, that is, eastwards. After a while the men left behind came up and gave their reports in turn. They had bought provisions for two days, and had learned that the district was called Gebuk-yung. The next day we should go over the Gebuk-la and encamp at the foot of the Kinchen-la, from the top of which we should see Raga-tasam the following day. Of course it was risky for three parties of our men to visit three tents near together, for the Tibetans always asked about the routes we had followed and our plans, and our men might in their haste give discordant answers. In the large tent Lobsang had been cross-examined, and had answered that we came from the Gertse Pun, who had advised us to take this byroad because we should reach Raga-tasam two days sooner than if we went through Saka-dzong. "Quite true," the Tibetans answered, but also warned us against robbers, for thirteen Ladakis would be but a mouthful for an ordinary robber band, and the country was very unsafe. "It is well for you that you have good weapons," they said.

Lastly, Abdul Kerim turned up with his purchases. He had learned that all the tents we had seen in the day belonged to Kamba Tsenam, who lived himself in the largest, but he happened to be in Saka-dzong, where an assembly had been convened in anticipation of an impending visit from a high Chinese official, and the question what present should be made to him had to be decided. Kamba Tsenam owned thirty-five horses, which were grazing beyond Gebuk-la, and if the rich nomad returned in the evening we should certainly be able to buy some from him.

"You say," declared an elderly man in Kamba Tsenam's service, "that you are a _tsongpun_ (merchant) from Ladak. Why then do you travel by this dangerous side route? Here you can drive no trade. How have you found the way? Why have you travelled in winter? Why do you ask the names of the valleys?"

"I have to write down all the names," he answered, "that we may find the way again in summer, for I am commissioned to make large purchases of wool."

"That is well, you shall have several hundred bales of sheep's wool from us. I will give you a guide in the morning; you will pay him a rupee for two days. Without him you cannot find your way over the Gebuk-la, especially when the ground is covered with snow."

Abdul Kerim had thanked him for his kindness and then had come to look for us. We were sitting and deliberating when two riders armed with guns came up to our tents. They were close upon us when they appeared out of the snowstorm. We just managed to close my tent and fasten up Takkar before the entrance. The elder man was Abdul Kerim's friend from the large tent, the other the youth who was offered to us as a guide. They tied up their horses and went nonchalantly into Abdul Kerim's tent. Here they sat and gossiped for an hour, and offered a large handsome white horse for sale at the price of 127 rupees. Abdul Kerim bought it, whereupon they asked how much money he had with him, and whether he was not afraid of being attacked. Afterwards they went about the tents and looked around, and I drew a breath of relief when they at last vanished in the snow with the other horse.

Now we considered the situation. To refuse the guide would seem extremely suspicious, for the snow already lay a foot deep, and the path--all we had to depend on--was covered up. But to have a stranger, a spy, in the caravan for two days and a night was still more dangerous. When Kutus and Sedik went back a little later to the large tent to fetch a bowl of sour milk, they were told to say that our _tsongpun_ did not want a guide, for we should remain quiet a day, either here or at the next camp. "Your _tsongpun_ speaks with two tongues, he does not know what he wants," the men answered.

We left this dangerous place on April 23 before the sun was up, and I went first with the sheep in case our neighbours paid a morning visit. The weather cleared and the sun came out, and then the snow quickly evaporated. Farther up all the valley floor was covered with a continuous sheet of ice. In front of us was seen the pass Gebuk-la. Here a little old man was following ten mares. He pretended not to see us, but he was soon overtaken by Abdul Kerim and Kunchuk, who kept him company most of the day. With Lobsang I rested half an hour on the pass, at a height of 16,978 feet. To the east and south-east of us lay an entanglement of mountains and valleys, and without the horse-tender we had so fortunately found it would have been quite impossible to find our way over the succession of small saddles which followed. To the south-south-east the snowy massive of Chomo-uchong rose in radiant sunshine; to the north was a huge crest, which I, like Ryder, took for the main range of the Trans-Himalaya and the watershed, but this turned out afterwards to be a mistake.

The horse-driver took us up a secondary saddle, at the eastern foot of which runs a deeply eroded valley, which, coming from the north, 10° E., is the upper section of the valley we followed last year, and which runs down to Basang, where I saw Muhamed Isa for the last time among the number of the living. Here was the driver's tent, and to escape his company during the night we continued our march after the stranger had given us instructions about the way. Our camp 390 was situated in the mouth of a small valley on the ascent to the Kinchen-la, where we were overwhelmed in a terribly dense and violent snowstorm.

The guide, who had so fortunately appeared at the right moment, had said in the presence of our men that he was Kamba Tsenam's brother and a great yak-slayer. The year before he had seen in Saka-dzong a European whose caravan leader, a big strong fellow, had inspired respect wherever he showed himself. But he had died suddenly in Saka, and his comrades had digged a long hole in the ground where they had laid him. He thought it strange that Ladakis, who were of the same faith as the Tibetans, would travel with and serve the hated Europeans.

For the future we determined to observe yet greater caution. Two or three Ladakis should always wear dark eye-glasses, so that mine might not seem so peculiar. As soon as we could buy woollen material all the men should have new clothes, so that I in my rags would seem the poorest and meanest of the party.