flaws of vivid pink-stained limestone, crossing through
the cliffs on the northern side of the valley, just where
the valley flats open out in a sandy, stone-strewn
stretch. There are a few ragged and neglected adobe
walls here, evidences of a long-abandoned village,
and across the stream there is a small group of houses,
perhaps four in number. Nothing of any importance
occurred, except that the rain, which held off during the
night, descended again at six o’clock on the following
morning.
To some readers, rain may seem a small matter
in these altitudes, and so long at any rate as the march
is conducted over hard rock floors, there does not seem
much danger of its causing either ill-health or delay.
But where speed is of the utmost possible importance,
and where the transport has therefore been cut down
to its utmost necessary compass, rain is one of the
most dangerous accidents which can befall a flying
column. Sleeping in wet clothes, night after night,
is not after all as dangerous an occupation as dwellers
in cities are apt to think. But the real crux is, that
where tents must of necessity be used by troops on
the march, the difference in sheer weight caused by
the saturation of canvas is almost incredible, and where
every beast of burden is already loaded with the last
additional pound which common sense permits,- a steady
rain storm daily will of itself ruin an expedition’s
mobility, and almost its chances of success. Still there
was a sufficient margin, for Bretherton and Macdonald
had allowed in their calculations for the extra strain
of a long forced march, and therefore had seen to it
that comparatively light loads were originally distributed
among the beasts. They had also carefully
weeded out the weaker animals from' the various
corps, and had, in consequence, a thoroughly well-
equipped transport service for this 150-mile dash.
Thus it was that the rain proved no worse than an
inconvenience, though only those who have experienced
it can know the intolerable dreariness of sitting down
on wet earth in pouring rain, waiting hour after hour
for the arrival and the pitching of the already soaked
tents. My own servants were perhaps, for this particular
work, the best in the Mission camp, and though
in all human probability neither of them will ever
read this book, I should like to render them a moment’s
tribute for the constant cheerfulness and alacrity with
which they generally managed to set up my tent among
the first.* After tents had been pitched, and beds
screwed together, or valises unrolled, the native servants
set to work to prepare the evening meal. This is a
business in which the Indian servant stands unrivalled;
at a time when there was absolutely no dry thing within
a quarter of a mile, except the interior of one’s boxes
and one’s bed -and not always those— these servants
will somehow manage to obtain a fire from wood that
is demonstrably wet, and when an Indian cook has been
given a fire and a couple of stew-pans, there is very
little that he cannot perform, within the conventional
limits of camp cookery.
* Really good servants are rare indeed on the Eastern Himalayan frontier. One o£
mine, the syce Tsering, whose muffled figure occurs on p. 125, Vol. I., has been taken into
the service at the Residency Sikkim. The other, my bearer, is, I believe, still attached
to the Rockville Hotel at Darjeeling. His name is Singh Bir, and if this slight mention
of his services to me during this expedition may recommend him to others who wish
to obtain a thoroughly capable personal and camp servant, I shall be glad. At a time
when other servants were deserting daily in sheer terror, Singh Bir remained steady,
though when pressed he admitted his conviction that we were as good as dead men
already if we tried to reach Lhasa.
V O L . I I . 6