TRIALS OF THE ROAD 225 



still remains plain according to Western standards, 

 but an absolute Venus compared to the sexless 

 caricatures we daily encountered. 



Leaving Titao the road follows the valley of 

 the river for some distance and then strikes due 

 north. It was bitterly cold and the inns were 

 very poor. We usually slept in the same room 

 with our fifteen mules, three ponies and a float- 

 ing population of pigs, poultry, children and curs. 

 We seldom got far away from a howling baby, 

 and I so far forgot my manners one night as to 

 throw a tobacco tin at one which kept emitting 

 doleful howls all night with the regularity of 

 minute guns. It had, however, no effect. 



The country through which we passed was not 

 very interesting. A cold wind drove down 

 over the low mud hills and chilled us to the 

 bone. It whistled through the long gullies, broken 

 and worn by long winters, frost and snow, with a 

 mournful whine. One big hill, I thought the 

 mules would never descend in safety. Frozen, with 

 a surface like glass, it was a miracle they managed 

 to keep their feet. Indeed, in some cases an old 

 veteran who had travelled the road many times 

 before stuck out his forelegs, sat calmly down and 

 negotiated the slope successfully. 



One poor beast refused to budge on reaching 

 the bottom and shivered violently. A muleteer 

 produced an enormous nail, which he proposed 

 jamming into the wretched creature's eyelid, on 

 the principle, I suppose, of a lesser ill being cured 

 by a greater. However, on being told that no 

 " cumshaw" awaited him at Lanchow if he persisted, 

 he gave it up, and the mule presently recovered. 



