Lachoong, with the Singtam Soubah, who accompanied
me officially, and with a very had grace ; poor fellow,
he expected me to have gone back to Dorjiling, and
many a sore struggle we had on this point. At
Choongtam he had been laid up with ulcerated legs
from the bites of leeches and sand-ffi.es, which required
my treatment.
We crossed to the south hank by a fine cane-bridge
forty yards long, the river being twenty-eight across :
and here I have to record the loss of my dog Kinchin ;
the companion of all my late journeyings, and to whom
I had become really attached. He had a had habit, of
which I had vainly tried to cure him, of running for a
few yards on the round bamboos by which the cane-
bridges are crossed, and on which it was impossible
for a dog to retain his footing : in this situation he
used to get thoroughly frightened, and lie down with
his legs hanging over the water, and having no hold
whatever. I had several times rescued him from this
perilous position, which was always rendered more
imminent from the shaking of the bridge as I approached
him. On the present occasion, I had stopped
below the bridge, botanizing, and Kinchin having
scrambled up the rocks, ran on to the bridge. I could
not see him, and was not thinking about him, when
suddenly his shrill, short barks of terror rang above
the roaring torrent. I hastened to the bridge, but
before I could get to it, he had lost his footing, and
had disappeared. Holding on by the canes, I strained
my eyes till the bridge seemed to be swimming up the
valley, and the swift waters to be standing still, but to
no purpose; he had been carried under at once, and
swept away miles below. For many days I missed him
by my side on the mountain, and by my feet in my tent.
He had become a very handsome dog, with glossy
black hair, pendent triangular ears, short muzzle, high
forehead, jet-black eyes, straight limbs, arched neck,
and a most glorious tail curling over his back.
A very bad road led to the village of Keadom,
situated on a flat terrace several hundred feet above
the river, where I spent the night. Here are cultivated
plantains and maize, although the elevation is equal to
parts of Dorjiling, where these plants do not ripen.
In the afternoon we reached Lachoong, which is by
far the most picturesque village in the temperate
region of Sikkim. Grassy flats of different levels,
sprinkled with brushwood and scattered clumps of
pine and maple, occupy the valley; whose west flanks
rise in steep, rocky, and scantily wooded grassy slopes.
About five miles to the north the valley forks; two
conspicuous domes of snow rising from the intermediate
mountains. On the east, Tunkra mountain rises in a
superb unbroken sweep of dark fir-wood and cliffs,
surmounted by black rocks and white fingering peaks
of snow. South of this, the valley of the Tunkrachoo
opens, backed by sharp snowed pinnacles, which
form the continuation of the Chola range, over which
a pass leads to the Phari district of Tibet, which
intervenes between Sikkim and Bhotan. Southwards
the view is bounded by snowy mountains, and the
valley seems blocked up by a remarkable moraine-
like spur.