24 On the Lt-tt-ping 
their way to Chi-tien. On the second day a stiff climb in 
a heavy snow-storm brought us out of the forest on to the 
Li-ti-p'ing, as the summit of the watershed is called—a 
desolate plateau of grass-land, forest, and bog. Streams 
of discoloured water trickled sluggishly down the grassy 
hollows, but the hill-tops were covered with fir forests, 
where patches of snow still lay snugly hidden. A raw 
wind swept over the pass and down the shallow valleys. 
It looked an ideal spot for pheasants, and leaving the 
caravan to continue across open country, Kin and I climbed 
the slopes to the edge of a forest patch. Shortly afterwards 
Kin complained of feeling unwell, so taking my gun I told 
him to rejoin the caravan while I scrambled about by 
myself, and presently they were all hidden from view. 
For about an hour I wandered from one patch of forest to 
another marvelling at the reckless slaughter going on 
in the plant world around me. The damp and darkness 
of the fir forest with its bamboo undergrowth was a 
wonderful breeding-ground for moss, while coils and coils 
of pale green unhealthy-looking lichen flung insidious 
tentacles round every tree, slowly choking the life out of 
it. Nothing was more sad on that dismal plateau than to 
see the struggle which was raging dumbly between host 
and parasite—the one immense, stern, and upright, the 
other insignificant, crawling, deadly. On the edge of the 
forest great bare masts, shrouded with this gnawing death, 
which hung in tattered festoons from the stumps of 
branches, rose grimly into the sky. Inside the forest huge 
trunks had come crashing down through the bamboo brake, 
and lay encased in moss, sleeping their last long sleep. 
After skirting several forested hill-tops I returned to 
the open valley, some distance below the pass, picked up a 
trail, and wandered rather aimlessly along by the growing 
stream of peaty water. The trail itself was good, though | 
was rather surprised to see no mule tracks, and to find no 
trace of either animals or escort after an hour’s walking, but 
it scarcely occurred to me yet that I was on the wrong road. 
And now came an incident which for the first time set 
me pondering. Looking back up the shallow valley towards 
the pass we had crossed, I saw a Tibetan caravan coming 
towards me, perhaps half a mile distant, but when I looked 
