52 JOURNEY TO THE PAMIRS. 



a crowd of natives had come with melons, apri- 

 cots, grapes, apples, eggs, and milk in fact, all 

 that the heart of a traveller could desire ; so 

 opening my pack of cotton-stuff, I distributed col- 

 oured handkerchiefs, bits of cotton prints, and so 

 on, right and left to the villagers, who were just 

 as delighted with them as we were with the fruit. 

 This was the village of Ushlaich, situated at an 

 altitude of 6000 feet. 



In the evening I put my trout-rod together and 

 started off to see what the Tiznaf river would 

 produce. Not a fish would move in the main 

 river, I fancy the water was too cold, but in a 

 side-stream, artificially made for irrigating pur- 

 poses, where the water was warmer, I caught as 

 many as I wanted ; nothing bigger than six inches 

 in length, but good enough to eat, and better than 

 nothing to catch. I was of course watched by a 

 crowd, who were astonished at my rod, gut, and 

 flies. The fish was a barbus of some sort, very 

 like the Kashmir so-called trout. 



Proceeding down this lovely valley for a mile 

 or two, and then turning west, after a short ascent 

 we found ourselves once more in a desert. A 

 long wearisome march it proved, over a barren 

 plateau, not a blade of grass or a drop of water 



