288 



A CANVAS CANOE. 



WHEN the "Alys" was launched there were no 

 cheering crowds, no display of bunting, and no 

 ladies' gay dresses. No champagne flowed, nor 

 even, I think, honest Scotch whisky. It was in 

 truth a very quiet proceeding. We had been in 

 pursuit of ibex and wild geese at the head waters 

 of the Yarkhun river, following up which to its 

 source we came on the sheet of water known to 

 Wakhis as Kul-Sar. A wonderful spectacle opened 

 before us as we topped the snow-covered ridge 

 that had hidden the lake from us whilst we climbed 

 the last few miles of the ascent. The lake lay 

 glittering at our feet, indescribably beautiful. 

 Light breezes played over the greater part of its 

 sapphire surface, but in one bay that was protected 

 by a long black headland, the inverted image of a 

 giant snow mountain lay almost as still as the orig- 

 inal. Great rugged mountains bordered the water 

 on all sides, except for a depression in the range 

 where, in the far distance, the blue water found 



