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0194 Tibet and Turkestan : vol.1
Tibet and Turkestan : vol.1 / Page 194 (Grayscale High Resolution Image)

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doi: 10.20676/00000231
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continue some hard, wild venture across the mys-
terious mountains stretching westward.
One of the caravans of Sasar was that of our old
friend, the Aksakol of Yarkand. What a clear-cut
face he had! Our European type seems gross when
set against the bronze cameo features of the high-
bred Hindoos. And such hospitality in his wel-
come, in his congratulations over our escape, in his
pleasure over this chance meeting within the heart
of the great mountains! His little tent, where we
sat to smoke and tea-drink, seemed, because of his
kindness, a nest-like home, and Achbar, squat in
the tent-door, redeemed himself with fluent phrases,
employing at least fifty words. And all this court-
esy, this true charity and gentlemanly spirit, grew
out of a stomach which had not known meat—no,
not even pre-natally—for generations unnumbered.
His caste (one of the subdivisions of the four basic
castes) forbade that animal life should feed on animal
death.
It was a glorious, breathless, freezing struggle we
made on the morrow, up and over the great glacier
and the vast fields of feathery whiteness. Starting
at sixteen thousand five hundred feet, we were soon
testing the thin, keen air of eighteen thousand feet
elevation ere the icy crest was gained. And from
the serene, glistening heights five thousand feet
above us we felt the reproving eyes of the Himala-
yas looking down upon the toiling ants that strove
and sank and rose again in the rifted green, in the
drifting white. The vision that comes back to
me is one of supernal clarity; across it, here and
there, a veil of snow-born, wind-driven mist; pressing