A SUMMER IN HIGH ASIA. 



that of the small buck that was shot by mis- 

 adventure. Having now got more heads than I 

 expected or, in fact, wanted, I determined to leave 

 the ground (though had I stayed, I should, I think, 

 have got a shot at many more good ones), and, 

 after paying a visit to the untrodden nalah that I 

 had passed on my way up, to make my way eastward 

 along the Shyok River and over the Chorbat-La 

 to Ladakh and the haunts of the Ovis ammon. 

 Accordingly, having got my ibex, and not being 

 pressed for time, I lingered for two days in this 

 lovely spot, sketching and taking things easy ; my 

 dak (mail) had arrived from Skardo, so that I had 

 no lack of occupation, with letters to write, papers 

 to peruse, &c. It may not be out of place to state 

 here, as showing how anyone journeying in these 

 parts need not be entirely cut off from the outer 

 world, that, by taking in a paper published in India 

 (which has, of course, the latest telegrams), and 

 arranging so as to always have one coolie bringing 

 the mail up from the nearest office while another is 

 on his way to fetch the next lot, one need never be 

 at any time more than one month behind civilisation, 

 though, of course, if one goes very far afield one*'s 

 news becomes proportionately older. This rest was 

 very pleasant after the continual marching, and, as 

 my tent became unbearably hot during the middle of 

 the day, the handy Babu Lai rigged me up a sort 

 of summer-house, composed of cedar-boughs with a 

 roof made of a waterproof sheet, to keep off the 



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