cistern might perhaps turn out less diabolical than the
Tartar had pretended it to be.

While we were lighting the fire, the Dchiahour went to draw water; he
returned in a few moments, saying that it was unfit to be drunk; that it
was mere poison. He brought a basin full with him, that we might taste
it and judge for ourselves.

The stench of this dirty, muddy water was, indeed, intolerable; and on
the surface of the nauseous stuff, we saw floating a sort of oily drop,
which infinitely increased our disgust. We had not the courage to raise
it to our lips; we were satisfied with its sight, and, above all, with
its smell.

Still we must either drink or die with thirst; we accordingly resolved to
make the best we could of this Cistern of the Devil, as it is called by
the Tartars. We collected roots, which were growing abundantly around
it, half buried in the sand; a few moments labour supplied us with an
ample provision of them. Then, first of all, we made some charcoal which
we broke into small pieces; next we filled our kettle with the muddy,
stinking water, placed it upon the fire, and when the water boiled, threw
in a quantity of the charcoal.

While we were engaged upon this chemical operation, Samdadchiemba, seated
beside the kettle, kept every moment asking us what sort of soup we
intended to make with all those detestable ingredients. We gave him, by
way of reply, a complete dissertation upon the discolouring and
disinfecting properties of charcoal. He listened to our scientific
statement with patience, but appeared in no degree convinced by it. His
eyes were fixed upon the kettle, and it was easy to see, from the
sceptical expression of his features, that he had no sort of expectation
or idea that the thick water bubbling in the kettle could at all become a
clear and limpid fluid.

By-and-by, we poured out the liquid thus prepared, and filtered it
through an impromptu linen sieve. The water realised was not, indeed,
delicious, but it was drinkable, having deposited all its salt and all
its ill odour. We had more than once, on our journey, used water in no
degree superior.

Samdadchiemba was perfectly intoxicated with enthusiasm. Had he not been
a Christian, he would assuredly have taken us for living Buddhas. "The
Lamas," said he, "pretend they have all knowledge and all power in their
prayer books; but I am certain they would have died of thirst, or been
poisoned, had they only had the water of