A BARREN VALLEY. 109 



one not a native, and we were soon driven back to the 

 open air. 



November 23rd. — We start soon after sunrise. Snow all 

 round, and a bitter cold wind which pierces through all our 

 wraps. There is a little path on the snow, some six inches 

 wide, trodden firm by sheep, but a step to the right or left 

 takes you over your knees. It is a long, tiring pull to the 

 top, and when it is reached the view below is not en- 

 couraging : a small black valley, whitened in places with 

 snow and dotted with pinched, black-looking firs, and with 

 equally black-looking mountains hemming it in. This deso- 

 late place is to be our halting-ground for the night. The 

 descent to it is bad, very steep, and knee-deep in a mixture 

 of snow, ice, and mud. The ayah is carried down by two 

 coolies. We had to clear away the snow to make a place 

 for our little tent. 



Towards evening heavy mists and vapours rolled up from 

 below, and we were soon surrounded by dense watery clouds. 

 It was fearfully cold and raw ; a sort of half-frozen Scotch 

 mist. Close to our tent, loomed through the fog an enor- 

 mous deodar cedar with hollow trunk. A brilliant idea 

 struck us. We lit a huge bonfire in the cavity, and spent 

 the evening cpuite cheerfully, seated in what formed a 

 snug chimney corner. Just before we turned .in, the tree 

 caught fire, and burnt like a torch. It was impossible 

 to extinguish it, and I went to bed in a disagreeable 



