162 Mountain and Monastery ; 
herdsmen, and had lunch. We soon reached the summit 
of the last spur, and saw below us to the east the blue 
mountains of Ssu-chuan, and the deep valley far beneath 
in which flowed the Yang-tze. Fine forests of larch and 
fir filled the higher valleys. 
It was dusk when we reached the first huts; away down 
below us the setting sun glistened for a moment on the 
golden spire and pale walls of Tung-chu-ling monastery, 
and shortly afterwards we were enveloped in darkness and 
continued thus for two or three hours by a most dangerous 
path above the torrent. Every moment I expected the pony 
to slip and go over, but happily I never saw the more ap- 
palling places till we were there, when the only thing to do 
was to sit still and pray. Finally I had to get off and lead 
my pony, sagacious little chap though he was. At last my 
guide lost the road altogether, and as he stood there on the 
mountain side arguing with the porters I went ahead myself, 
for I have a way of finding the path on the darkest night 
by instinct. I managed to hit it off, and arrived at the 
scattered village of Tung-chu-ling, where we found com- 
fortable quarters in a large if unpretentious house. It 
was warm down here, and scarcely waiting for supper 
I turned in and slept like a rock. 
I awoke in a new world. Fields of waving millet and 
maize, tall runner beans, immense vegetable marrows, and 
huge nodding sunflowers greeted the eye, but the big 
monastery perched on the summit of the hill above us, 
though scarcely visible from here, was the chief feature of 
the place. 
Sending the porters on ahead to Pang-tsi-la I went with 
my guide to visit the monastery, a large rambling old place 
surrounded by a high wall. The lamas received me with 
evident surprise, but were outwardly friendly as I walked 
round the courtyards, explored the cells, and entered the 
main temple where a service was being held in the usual 
noisy fashion. There was little of interest in the monastery 
itself, however, except a large and crude wall-painting ot 
one of the big monasteries at Lhasa, done in the most 
quaint perspective, or rather lack of it; and I finished my 
inspection by climbing out on to the roof of the temple, 
which was covered with wooden slats held down by rocks 
