he river. I had lost sight of the
pass which I had seen from the saddle, but had made such notes of it that
I could not fail to find it. I was bruised and stiff, and my boots had
begun to give, for I had been going on rough ground for more than three
weeks; but, as the day wore on, and I found myself descending without
serious difficulty, I became easier. In a couple of hours I got among
pine forests where there was little undergrowth, and descended quickly
till I reached the edge of another precipice, which gave me a great deal
of trouble, though I eventually managed to avoid it. By about three or
four o'clock I found myself on the river-bed.

From calculations which I made as to the height of the valley on the
other side the saddle over which I had come, I concluded that the saddle
itself could not be less than nine thousand feet high; and I should think
that the river-bed, on to which I now descended, was three thousand feet
above the sea-level. The water had a terrific current, with a fall of
not less than forty to fifty feet per mile. It was certainly the river
next to the northward of that which flowed past my master's run, and
would have to go through an impassable gorge (as is commonly the case
with the rivers of that country) before it came upon known parts. It was
reckoned to be nearly two thousand feet above the sea-level where it came
out of the gorge on to the plains.

As soon as I got to the river side I liked it even less than I thought I
should. It was muddy, being near its parent glaciers. The stream was
wide, rapid, and rough, and I could hear the smaller stones knocking
against each other under the rage of the waters, as upon a seashore.
Fording was out of the question. I could not swim and carry my swag, and
I dared not leave my swag behind me. My only chance was to make a small
raft; and that would be difficult to make, and not at all safe when it
was made,--not for one man in such a current.

As it was too late to do much that afternoon, I spent the rest of it in
going up and down the river side, and seeing where I should find the most
favourable crossing. Then I camped early, and had a quiet comfortable
night with no more music, for which I was thankful, as it had haunted me
all day, although I perfectly well knew that it had been nothing but my
own fancy, brought on by the reminiscence of what I had heard from
Chowbok and by the over-excitement of the preceding evening.

Next day I