rses one by one over this yielding bridge.

All this journey we waded and plunged through snowdrifts. One day I sent
a horseman on in front to examine the road, and only the horse's head
and the rider could be seen above the snow. Another time there was no
Kirghiz tent as usual, and we bivouacked round a fire behind a wall of
snow in a temperature of 29 deg. below freezing-point. The Kirghizes who
should have furnished us with a tent had been delayed on a pass by an
avalanche of snow which overwhelmed forty sheep. Six men had struggled
on to meet us, but two had stuck fast and were abandoned in the snow. Of
the four who arrived in a sorry condition, one had his foot frozen and
another had become snow-blind. The Kirghizes usually protect their eyes
by a long lock of horse-hair hanging down over the forehead from beneath
the cap, or blacken the eye cavities and nose with charcoal.

Wolves swarm in these mountains, and we often saw the spoor of these
blood-thirsty robbers. Hunger makes them very daring, and they do great
damage to the flocks of the Kirghizes, as they will kill even when they
do not wish to eat. A single wolf had recently worried 180 sheep
belonging to a Kirghiz. A travelling Kirghiz was attacked in this
neighbourhood by a pack of wolves, and when the body was found a couple
of days later only the skull and skeleton were left. Another Kirghiz,
who was mounted, was attacked and killed, horse and all. Two of my
guides had fallen in with twelve wolves the winter before, but
fortunately they were armed and killed two of them, which were at once
devoured by their comrades.

It is not difficult to imagine the terrible plight of an unarmed Kirghiz
attacked by wolves. They track him by scent and pursue him. Their
wicked eyes glow with fury and blood-thirstiness. They wrinkle up their
upper lips to leave their fangs exposed. Their dripping tongues hang out
of their jaws. The traveller hears their sneaking steps behind him, and
turning round can distinguish in the dusk their grey coats against the
white snow. He grows cold with fright, and putting up a prayer to Allah,
springs and dashes through the drifts in the hope of reaching the
nearest village of tents.

Every now and again the wolves halt and utter their awful prolonged
howl, but in an instant they are after the man again. Every minute they
become bolder. The man flies for his life. They know that he cannot hold
out long. Now they catch hold of a corner of