banks of a stream took us next morning to Tankse,
the chief village of the district; it is a wealthy and
prosperous place, famous for the large quantities of
fine wool produced by its herds of goats.
The Tankse district consists mainly of a long,
fertile valley, cut off from the rest of the world for
the greater part of the year by an impassable barrier
of snow. A broad and rapid river, full of snow-trout,
runs down the centre of the valley, its banks soft
with rich grass. From end to end there are fertile
meadows, and substantial stone houses are dotted along
the lowlands, the whole encircled by rugged snow-peaks.
On entering the village, the first object my eye
fell upon was the smiling face of Soonam Tilney, a
native of the place, who had accompanied me into
Tibet in the previous year. He earnestly requested
to be allowed to join our party, and to this we
readily agreed, as he was known to be a quiet and
steady worker.
Our first inquiry on arrival was respecting the
grain ordered some ten days before; to our intense
disgust, we found that not a bag was ready, not a
pound weighed! The Jchardar, or headman of the
district, Hiram Singh by name, was at once produced,
and we endeavoured to impress upon him the
fact that we were waiting for the promised grain.
He was, physically, a fine specimen of the native,
but as he habitually drank chang1 with a perseverance
worthy of a better cause, most of his time was spent
in happy oblivion. We were unfortunate in meeting
him on one of his bad days, for all he could do was
to refer us to the grain-store keeper, from whom we
received a promise that, 1180 maunds2 of barley should
be ready by the next day.
1 Chang= native beer. 2 Mannd = 80 lb.