, I struck camp at Gungi. Before entering
the village, I passed Dr. Wilson's dispensary, not then completed. In the
village the houses were decorated with long poles joined by strings, from
which hung and flew gaily in the breeze hundreds of wind prayers. The
dwellings were mostly of the ancient, pure Shoka architecture, and not so
fine or so clean as those in Garbyang. The place was picturesque,
clear-cut against the curious background of the dome-like mountain, the
Nabi Shankom, a peak of uncommon beauty with its grey and reddish striped
strata. Near it on another mountain is the Gungi Shankom, a gigantic
quadrangular rock of a warm yellow and reddish colour, not unlike a huge
tower. When I reached its foot, the sun was casting his last dying rays
on it, and the picture was so magical that I was tempted to sketch it. As
I sat there, the shadow of the coming night rose higher and higher on
the mountain-side, tinting it violet blue, and above it the Gungi Shankom
stood resplendent in all its glory like a tower of fire--till night
descended covering the mountain first, and little by little the Gungi
Shankom itself. I shall not easily forget this sight.

[Illustration: GUNGI SHANKOM]

I slept under my little _tente d'abri_ and found it delightfully cosy and
warm.

At 10 A.M. the next day I raised camp. The elevation here was 10,940
feet. Interesting was the _Chiram_, a collection of tombs, five in
number, made of slabs of white stone with poles placed vertically upon
them, and from the summit of which hung flying prayers. The Kuti River to
my left was wide and rapid. On the opposite bank the village of Ronkan
(11,100 feet) made a pretty _vis-a-vis_ to the Nabi village on our side
of the stream, at the same elevation, and directly under the lee of the
Nabi Shankom.

As I rose gradually along the river course the vegetation grew sparse,
and in front of me there remained nothing but barren rocks and high snowy
peaks. The spot where, from opposite sides, the Gunkan River and the Nail
River throw themselves into the Kuti River is most picturesque. There are
on the water's edge a few pine-trees, but above there is nothing but
wilderness--rock and ice and snow.

I soon came upon much snow, and places where the track along the
mountain-side was undiscoverable. Walking was tiresome enough on the
loose shingle and shale, but it became worse when I actually had to cut
each step into the frozen snow. The work was tedious to a de