Kul, which is probably the largest lake for its
elevation in the world, being about ten times larger than Lake Geneva, and
at a height of 5300 feet. Its slightly brackish water, which never
freezes, teems with several varieties of fish, many of which we helped to
unhook from a Russian fisherman's line, and then helped to eat in his
primitive hut near the shore. A Russian Cossack, who had just come over
the snow-capped Ala Tau, "of the Shade," from Fort Narin, was also
present, and from the frequent glances cast at the fisherman's daughter we
soon discovered the object of his visit. The ascent to this lake, through
the famous Buam Defile, or Happy Pass, afforded some of the grandest
scenery on our route through Asia. Its seething, foaming, irresistible
torrent needs only a large volume to make it the equal of the rapids at
Niagara.

Our return to the post-road was made by an unbeaten track over the Ala Tau
mountains. From the Chu valley, dotted here and there with Kirghiz tent
villages and their grazing flocks and herds, we pushed our wheels up the
broken path, which wound like a mythical stairway far up into the
low-hanging clouds. We trudged up one of the steepest ascents we have ever
made with a wheel. The scenery was grand, but lonely. The wild tulips,
pinks, and verbenas dotting the green slopes furnished the only pleasant
diversion from our arduous labor. Just as we turned the highest summit,
the clouds shifted for a moment, and revealed before us two Kirghiz
horsemen. They started back in astonishment, and gazed at us as though we
were demons of the air, until we disappeared again down the opposite and
more gradual slope. Late in the afternoon we emerged upon the plain, but
no post-road or station-house was in sight, as we expected; nothing but a
few Kirghiz kibitkas among the straggling rocks, like the tents of the
Egyptian Arabs among the fallen stones of the pyramids.

[Illustration: KIRGHIZ ERECTING KIBITKAS BY THE CHU RIVER.]

Toward these we now directed our course, and, in view of a rapidly
approaching storm, asked to purchase a night's lodging. This was only too
willingly granted in anticipation of the coming _tomasha_, or exhibition.
The milkmaids as they went out to the rows of sheep and goats tied to the
lines of woolen rope, and the horsemen with reinless horses to drive in
the ranging herds, spread the news from tent to tent. By the time darkness
fell the kibitka was filled to overflowing. We were