A SUMMER IN HIGH ASIA. 



a paddle as would be naturally expected, but a pole 

 without any blade to it. These poles, when in deep 

 water, they ply with incredible swiftness, and so 

 direct the course of the raft, chattering volubly all 

 the time, but evidently knowing their business well ; 

 in the meantime the unaccustomed passenger pro- 

 bably holds on tight to the hurdle as the raft rocks 

 from side to side in the rapids, and whirls round 

 and round, while the water washes freely over and 

 up between the skins, soaking everything. 



Arrived near the bank, the boatmen leap out, 

 drag the raft to the shore, disembark the cargo, cross 

 the river again, lift it on to terra firma, take it to 

 pieces, trudge away to the starting-point, where 

 they inflate any of the skins that may have become 

 leaky, tie the raft together again, launch it, and are 

 ready for the next trip. Truly a primitive means 

 of conveyance, but one admirably suited to the 

 character of the streams and rapids on which pro- 

 bably no other craft, except perhaps the Canadian 

 birch-bark canoe, could live. Where the rivers are 

 suitable, and there is plenty of water, long journeys 

 are undertaken on these rafts, and at such times 

 it is very exhilarating to be whirled along, while 

 the banks present a giddy and misty panorama 

 which seems to fly past before any of the details 

 on either side can be realised. When I arrived on 

 the Shyok side I found all my kiltas and baggage 

 grouped upon the shore guarded by the faithful, but 

 disconsolate, Sekour Khan, who had survived the 



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