steep, certainly, but a slope of snow in perfect condition
for climbing helped us on our way, and an hour’s steady
work brought us to the top. We stood upon a pinnacle
nearly 20,000 feet above sea-level, without a cloud in
the sky or a mountain to impede our view in all directions.
This, however, was no time for revelling in
panoramic displays, and, after searching the surrounding
country with our glasses, a low-lying pass was
discovered about two miles distant, which, though
rough and covered with drift snow, led into a river-
bed and opened out into Antelope Plain, glimpses of
which could be obtained in the distance. Soonam
Sirring, who had accompanied us and had been
carrying the plane table, was sent back with minute
directions to the caravan as to the course which was
to be followed, whilst we turned our attention to the
glorious panorama which lay before our eyes. To the
north, distant about fifty miles, were the mighty Kuan
Luan Mountains, an endless wall of glittering snow
and ice, stretching to the east and west as far as the
eye could reach; to the east and north-east lay a
great plain, broken by small ranges, knolls, and deep
blue lakes; to the south, rose range beyond range of
bold, snow-capped peaks, with flat and apparently barren
plains between; to the west and close at hand was
the snow-field, almost blinding in its whiteness.
It was a marvellous and most impressive sight,
and rendered all the more beautiful by the cloudless
sky and the wonderfully clear atmosphere. Far away
to the north-east, about 200 miles distant, one peak
of the Kuan Luan range could be distinguished, perfectly
regular in outline and o’ertopping the rest by
many hundreds of feet, an immense cone of snow;
we were unfortunately unable to fix this peak, and
were never in a position to see it again.
Our observations were necessarily brief, as time
was pressing and we had to push on. A toboggan
down the snow-slope, with the khud sticks between
our legs, soon brought us to the bottom; it was an
invigorating and delightful descent, if somewhat
hurried.
The caravan was overtaken in the pass, and the
ponies found struggling through deep, soft snow, which
concealed boggy ground and sharp boulders. After
two hours of fatiguing travelling over ground of this
nature, the main river-bed was entered, along which
the ponies were urged, as the complete absence of grass
prevented us from indulging in any brief halts.
The weary animals now formed a long, straggling
line, one man to every two; and in this manner the
poor beasts were urged on mile after mile.
At dusk we entered Antelope Plain, and still there
was no grass. For an hour more, and as long as any
light remained, the search was continued, until at
length our efforts were partially rewarded by the discovery
of a patch of withered grass, a little fuel, and a
running stream.
We were all dead tired, but not a moment was lo st;
the loads were taken off and the tents erected. The
really excellent qualities of our men were now displayed,
for though they had been thirteen hours on the
road, tramping over deep and rocky ground, climbing
ridges, replacing fallen loads, driving and assisting weary
ponies, yet on arrival in camp they were as cheerful
as could b e ; not a grumble was heard, though there
was ample cause for it, as they had practically no fire
or food, and three of them had to pick up their blankets
at once and spend the night with the ponies.
Soonam Tilney, with the two weakest ponies,
was still on the road. Every effort was made to