cold. His face was
gray and cadaverous, with deep lines engraved upon it from suffering.
His feet were so frozen that it took him some time before he could stand
upon them.

Again the Shokas would eat nothing because snow was still falling. We
started toward the north-east. After a mile of flat we began a steep
descent over unpleasant, loose debris and sharp rocks. The progress was
rapid but painful. Looking at the country below through my telescope, I
saw shrubs and lichens far down in the valley to the north-east, and
also a tent and some sheep. This was unfortunate, for we had to alter
our course in order not to be seen. We again climbed up to the top of
the plateau and went around its summit unperceived, striking a more
easterly route. Toward sunset we began our descent from the latter
point. We crossed the river with no great difficulty. Having selected a
nicely sheltered depression in the ground, I pitched my little tent
there, by the side of a pond of melted snow. We all set out collecting
lichens and shrubs in order to make a fire, and each man carried into
camp several loads of fuel. In a moment we had three big fires blazing,
and not only were we able to cook an excellent dinner and drown our past
troubles in abundance of steaming tea, but we also managed to dry our
clothes and blankets. The relief we obtained from the warmth of these
fires was wonderful. In our comparative happiness we forgot the
hardships and sufferings we had so far encountered. With the exception
of a handful of _satoo_, this was the first solid meal we had eaten
during the last forty-eight hours. In those two days we had travelled
twenty miles, each of us carrying a weight averaging over sixty pounds.

We were now at an elevation of 16,500 feet, which seemed quite low after
our colder and loftier camping-grounds. The reaction was pleasant, and,
as far as I was concerned, the outlook had changed from one of deepest
depression to a condition of comparative cheerfulness and contentment.

In front of us, to the north-east, was a high mountain.--Farther toward
the east could be seen a narrow valley between two hill ranges, while a
river passed through a picturesque gorge in the direction of the
Mangshan Mountain.

It was necessary for me to proceed along the valley to the east, for in
so doing we should save ourselves trouble, time, and exertion, though
perhaps we might meet Tibetans, especially bands of robbers. This part
of the Nari Kho