Across the Roof of the World. 



The coolies were off before six tlie next morning, marching 

 through gorges along the river bed, a wild and desolate country. 

 There was a great deal of fording to be done, the water being 

 swift, icy, and deep, necessitating careful negotiating. The 

 summer route is over parri spurs and along narrow ledges in the 

 face of the cliffs, formed by placing ladders of brushwood on 

 stakes driven into the rock and then covered with earth and 



CHANGING COOLIES IN THE KANJUT VALLEY, 



stones, a rickety and nerve-trying roadway, ever ready to collapse 

 and throw the traveller into the seething torrent. 



At the little village of Gircha I obtained another relief of 

 coolies, during which Piro served tiffin in an old disused temple, 

 prepared for the occasion by the lumbardar, so that my 

 surroundings had an element of holiness as well as antiquity. 



Beyond Gircha it is an arduous march to Misgar, over huge 

 parris, ever up and down and through numerous fords in 

 the Kanjut River, deep and often difficult. On the way T 



52 



