A Canvas Canoe 297 



was pleasant to lie back in the little canoe, 

 umbrella over my head, and be towed along 

 and listen to the rippling of the water against 

 the bows. The plain was covered with coarse 

 scanty grass imprinted with innumerable hoof- 

 marks of kyang (or wild asses), but from the 

 canoe only the great mountains surrounding the 

 plain could be seen, apparently swinging and 

 revolving round me as the river wandered back- 

 wards and forwards. Now and again a sandbank 

 would intrude, and I was aroused from far-away 

 thoughts to seize the paddle. Sometimes the 

 leaders would signal geese, and I would get 

 out to see distant specks of white quivering 

 and heaving on the bank in the dry clear air, 

 and the big gun would be got out for a shot, 

 not usually in vain. 



The shore of the Pangong Lake is the next 

 spot where I will ask my readers to picture the 

 " Alys " stripped of her covering. My wife and 

 I had been for a trip over the Tibetan frontier, 

 and after shooting yak and antelope had wandered 

 south-west past Lake Tso Dyak, over 16,000 feet 

 above the sea. Here also the " Alys " cruised, 

 the highest piece of water she (or any other 

 boat ?) has ever floated on. Continuing our march 

 from there, we struck the Pangong east of the 



