t Central
Asian species I met.

GAUTSA,
_February._

Gautsa, which lies five miles north of Lingmathang, nearly half-way
between Chumbi and Phari, must be added to the map. A week or two ago
the place was deserted and unnamed; it did not boast a single cowherd's
hut. Now it is a busy camp, and likely to be a permanent halting-place
on the road to Phari. The camp lies in a deep, moss-carpeted hollow,
with no apparent egress. On three sides it is flanked by rocky cliffs,
densely forested with pine and silver birch; on the fourth rises an
abrupt wall of rock, which is suffused with a glow of amber light an
hour before sunset. The Ammo Chu, which is here nothing but a 20-foot
stream frozen over at night, bisects the camp. The valley is warm and
sheltered, and escapes much of the bitter wind that never spares Chumbi.
After dinner one prefers the open-air and a camp fire. Officers who have
been up the line before turn into their tents regretfully, for they know
that they are saying good-bye to comfort, and will not enjoy the genial
warmth of a good fire again until they have crossed the bleak Tibetan
tablelands and reached the sparsely-wooded Valley of Gyantse.

CHAPTER IV

PHARI JONG

_February 15._

Icy winds and suffocating smoke are not conducive to a literary style,
though they sometimes inspire a rude eloquence that is quite unfit for
publication. As I write we are huddling over the mess-room brazier--our
youngest optimist would not call it a fire. Men drop in now and then
from fatigue duty, and utter an incisive phrase that expresses the
general feeling, while we who write for an enlightened public must
sacrifice force for euphemism. A week at Phari dispels all illusions;
only a bargee could adequately describe the place. Yet the elements,
which 'feelingly persuade us' what we are, sometimes inspire us with the
eloquence of discomfort.

At Gautsa the air was scented with the fragrance of warm pine-trees, and
there was no indication of winter save the ice on the Ammo Chu. The
torrent roared boisterously beneath its frozen surface, and threw up
little tentacles of frozen spray, which glistened fantastically in the
sun. Three miles further up the stream the wood-belt ends abruptly;
then, after another three miles, one passes the last stunted bush; after
that there is nothing but brown earth and yellow withered grass.

Five miles above Gautsa is Dotah, the most cheerless camp on the march