320 THE LAST HUNT 



tails. This was a very painful operation, but the poor 

 beasts bore it all very patiently. The ridge at last was 

 reached, but it was almost knife-edged, and so smothered 

 with snow as to be absolutely dangerous. So we had to 

 dismount and descend as best we could. We dipped into 

 a semicircular valley of moraines, round the bases of 

 which slushy and half-frozen streamlets flow, having 

 to walk through these, crossing a ridge here and there. 

 Lower down, the moraines became more jumbled and con- 

 fused, and walking over their broken surfaces was terrible 

 indeed to me, who had on thin " Bisahiri " shoes, which 

 were no protection against sharp-pointed rocks. We got 

 out of this awful ground just before darkness came on ; 

 but were obliged to proceed, as there was no camping- 

 place and no fuel procurable. 



We stumbled along down the hillside by the light of 

 a clouded moon for two hours more, when we reached the 

 banks of the Chhii-Hanmo stream. My shoes had gone 

 to pieces, and I had been walking practically barefoot for 

 a couple of miles, till I felt as if my feet were cut to 

 shreds. 



It must have been near midnight when we came to a 

 halt. I threw myself under a huge tree a few yards from 

 the water, too exhausted for any thought but one — 

 rest. The yak with the bedding came in some time 

 after, and I soon got between the blankets, but I was too 

 tired to sleep. To complete the chapter of accidents, 

 it came on to rain, and my bedding was soon soaked ; but 

 with the aid of a waterproof I managed to keep dry. I 

 was too exhausted to think of food; and it was just as well, 

 for most of the coolies lay up on the hillside above as 

 soon as they were left to their own devices, and the man 

 carrying the food, etc., never turned up at all. We had to 

 send out to look for him, and he was brought down some 



