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0176 Tibet and Turkestan : vol.1
Tibet and Turkestan : vol.1 / Page 176 (Grayscale High Resolution Image)

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doi: 10.20676/00000231
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to us but to await the designs of slow-moving
Fate.
Three of our ponies, having nothing else to do,
had now died. The others were festering racks,
their proper sores having spread and grown more
malignant under the pack-saddles, which Mir Mullah
had not removed during the whole period of inactiv-
ity. Anginieur was still a prisoner to his leg,
charging himself at times with being a burden upon
the move, which now, he thought, we ought to at-
tempt. But it was not difficult to convince him
that, without a single horse that could carry a bur-
den, we were not all tied to his leg, but that all were
separately tied to our desolate prison ground in
a common inability to cope with conditions all
awry.
The eleventh day wore away to its afternoon;
for distraction it was suggested that the fishes be
bombarded behind their ice-fortress. Perhaps our
smooth-bore, belching out duck-shot, would break
the ice, and repeated cannonading might somehow
reach the finny garrison. Three futile shots had
set the echoes ringing, when lo! an answering, dis-
tant sound rolled up from the valley's hidden stretch
below us. The long strain was ended. That single
rifle-shot meant life. Then masters and men looked
into each other's eyes as brothers and strained away
their gaze toward the black cliff which closed the
down-stream view. When the sober, silent joy of
first relief had changed to laughing gaiety that felt
its right to live, our anxious watch discovered two
horsemen urging up the valley. In half an hour
they were at our sides, the faithful two, weary with