ing their leisure hours in trapping and killing large
numbers of antelope—bucks, does and young being
slaughtered indiscriminately. The men attach nooses
of string and twisted hair to the stones, spread bhoosa
or chopped straw over the ground, and then drive all
the animals within a radius of ten miles to the spot,
where the unsuspecting beasts fall into the traps and
are despatched at leisure.
We halted for a day on the plain, but to our great
disappointment none of the yaks, and only ten of the
hired ponies, put in an appearance. Storms swept over
the valley at intervals, and as the thermometer seldom
rose above freezing-point, the snow had little chance of
thawing.
Along Soomjeling Plain the caravan moved to the
sheltered valley of Kamure, where, though the snow
continued to fall, we were much less troubled by it,
On the way. Tsaggar1 Tso was passed, a lake of the
richest blue, with a calm, unruffled surface and banks of
almost solid salt, dazzlingly white, whilst old grass of a
rich yellow bedecked the hill-slopes above. On the north
and south rose jagged and rounded mountains of every
imaginable colour, their summits crowned with snow.
Much trouble was experienced with Khalik at the
conclusion of each day’s march as to the treatment of
the ponies; he insisted that it was the custom in
Ladak and Chinese Turkestan to tie up the ponies
head to tail in pairs and keep them thus for two hours.
The ostensible reason for this was that it enabled the
animals to cool before feeding, but in reality the
arrangement was intended to benefit the men who
were able to get their tea at once and in comfort. We
pointed out that the ponies were deprived of two
valuable daylight hours for grazing, that they had to
1 Tsaggar= salt.
feed longer at night in consequence, and thereby
lost valuable hours of rest. Being determined to
have our way in this matter, we insisted on a ten to
fifteen minutes’ halt only, after which the ponies were
cast loose—with the result that the caravan-ponies
looked well, and, considering the length of their
marches, kept very fit. The point, however, had to
be pressed home every day, so powerful is the force of
the Eastern custom.
On June 17th we encamped at Chutzai, twelve miles
from Kamure. I t was a glorious day, but the force of
the wind was so great that it was found impossible to
put up the ten ts; indeed, it was as much as the men
could do to keep their feet.
We encountered but few antelope in the day’s
march, but saw some hares and a wolf or two prowling
about, well out of range, and large numbers of marmotlike
and tail-less rats, bold and impudent. Of birds,
the lammergeiers were fairly numerous, as also was a
brown bird very like the English lark, while, whenever
an animal was shot, the raven was always to be found
perched on a rock close by, his beady black eye glistening
with anticipatory satisfaction over the coming
repast. A white butterfly, and lastly, the common fly,
completed the list of fauna seen by us—a somewhat
remarkable one considering that they were found at
an altitude of 17,500 feet.
A mile beyond the camp a hot spring of 105° F.
was found, and, close by, many pools varying in temperature
from 70° to 80°. Rushes were plentiful, and
shrimps and fresh-water molluscs abounded in the clear,
crystal water. We were sorely tempted to indulge in
a bath, but the keen wind was sufficient to cool our
ablutionary ardour and reconcile us to a state of uncleanliness.