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0070 The Pulse of Asia : vol.1
アジアの鼓動 : vol.1
The Pulse of Asia : vol.1 / 70 ページ(白黒高解像度画像)

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doi: 10.20676/00000233
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on our way to Ladakh or Little Tibet, two hundred miles
eastward across the main range of the Himalayas, we first
spent a delightful spring day in floating slowly ten miles
westward down the Jhelum, and in being towed still more
slowly seven miles northward up the tributary Sind to the
head of navigation at Gunderbal. There we dismissed
the house-boat; and then, for two short stages, shaggy little
ponies, secured as a right from the villagers by means of a
pass from the British Resident at Srinagar, carried us east-
ward up through the lovely scenery of the Sind valley —
among spreading walnut trees (often used as haystacks),
among mossy rocks, dashing brooks, and straw-thatched
houses. On April 6, at an elevation of about 7000 feet,
we encountered snow too deep for horses, and were obliged
for nine days to walk and have the loads carried by coolies.
When the first detachment of men was being procured at
Gund, a great uproar in the muddy courtyard called us
out from our smoky, windowless room to the second-story
balcony, among the cows which had ambitiously mounted
the broad flight of stone steps. In their usual fashion, the
chief men of the village were delaying matters because snow
was falling and the road might be bad. Our headman, a
remarkably trustworthy and energetic Mohammedan from
Ladakh or Little Tibet, had knocked down one village
official into the mud, and had beaten another with a stick.
Nobody seemed resentful, and nobody stopped talking.
Apparently, they looked upon violence as the logical result
of their obstructiveness; but not enjoying it, they speedily
gathered the necessary band of thirty-five coolies. The
latter did not want to go. Who would, if he had to carry a