56 Sport and Life in the Further Himalaya 



urial which frequent the high cliffs below the 

 junction of the Astor river with father Indus. 

 A light wire bridge has here been thrown across 

 the tributary stream, nearing which we dismounted 

 to lead our ponies across. A more wild and for- 

 bidding scene it is impossible to imagine. Black 

 perpendicular rocks ascend to an enormous height, 

 through a narrow cleft in which, and seeming to 

 issue from the bowels of the earth, the Astor 

 river appears wild and foaming. The bridge is 

 hung across at the river's narrowest part, and it 

 is here the rapids assume their most terrific aspect. 

 No one crossing the frail-looking structure can 

 help but pause a moment to look down and 

 wonder, and be fascinated by the tumult of 

 yellow water below him. At any rate we did, 

 and in doing so I could not help speculating 

 on the result of the breaking of the wire strand 

 on which we leant. How many seconds of life 

 would remain to any one falling in amongst the 

 spouting, boiling waves whose spray wet our 

 faces ? 



After crossing the bridge we followed the road 

 for a short way, and then, leaving our ponies to 

 be taken on to the little fortified post at Lechir, 

 we struck off to the left to look for the wild 

 sheep. After a quarter of an hour's climb we sat 

 down behind a rock and set to work with the 



