国立情報学研究所 - ディジタル・シルクロード・プロジェクト
『東洋文庫所蔵』貴重書デジタルアーカイブ

Richthofen, To-lai-shan, Alexander III, and Suess Ranges, and in which gather the head-waters of
the rivers of Su-chou and Kan-chou as well as of the Su-lo Ho. From an elevation of about
11,000 feet upwards all these valleys are remarkably easy, forming big basins which are almost
flat at their bottom and rise with grassy down-like swellings towards the foot of the flanking ranges.⁹
Between that elevation and a height of about 13,000 feet above sea-level they afford excellent
summer grazing, far richer than any I had seen since Kashmir. The extent of this may be
estimated from the fact that the open upper portion of the valley of the Pei-ta Ho (Map No. 89) is
not less than 70 miles long in a straight line, with a width up to 12 miles or more, while the length
of the upper Kan-chou River valley corresponding in character is still greater.

Abundant
grazing in
high valleys. It is, of course, the distinctly moister climate which accounts for the abundance of alpine
grazing to be found in these high valleys. The contrast with the bleakness prevailing on
corresponding ground in the mountains south of An-hsi and Tun-huang is striking. Enough of
this life-giving moisture passes over the snowy crest-line of the Richthofen Range to clothe its
north-eastern slopes also with abundant vegetation. Where these jut out in broad spurs, as from
the Ma-yang Ho eastwards to Kan-chou and beyond, our explorations of 1907 and 1914 have
shown not merely fine grazing valleys, but also extensive forest growth. The economic importance
of this climatic change is well brought out by the fact already emphasized elsewhere that in the
submontane tract south of Kan-chou we soon reach the dividing line beyond which cultivation
becomes practicable without irrigation and dependent wholly on rainfall.¹⁰

Neglect of
Nan-shan
grazing
grounds. Favourable physical conditions such as these were bound to make the utter neglect of the
splendid grazing grounds afforded by those big Nan-shan valleys all the more striking. Mountain
tracts, which could maintain tens of thousands of cattle and horses during the summer months and,
to a sufficiently hardy race, would afford attractions for nomadic existence quite equal to those of
the Alai or of the famous grazing valleys in the Central and Western T'ien-shan, were found
absolutely uninhabited during the warmest season of the year. During three weeks of strenuous
travel, covering a total marching distance of some 320 miles over such extensive areas as the map
shows, we did not meet with a single human being, apart from a few adventurous Tungans working
gold pits at an elevation close on 14,000 feet near the watershed between the Hung-shui-pa and
Kan-chou river sources.

Chinese
policy ac-
counting
for neglect. Racial and political facts combine to explain this neglect. The deep-rooted traditional
aversion of the Chinese, where undiluted by other elements, to the life of herdsmen and such
nomadic or semi-nomadic existence as it implies is well known. It has always been a factor of
fundamental importance for the civilization and history of Eastern Asia. It must necessarily
prevent its peoples from exploiting for their own benefit the cattle-raising facilities offered by these
Nan-shan valleys. On the other hand, it is equally obvious that, taught by the sad experience of
long centuries to apprehend constant danger of aggression from their neighbours in the great plains
northward, whether Huns, Turks, or Mongols, and from Tibetan tribes on the south also, the
Chinese cannot possibly care for the presence of similar troublesome nomads on the mountain flank
of these far-advanced Kan-su marches, the key to Chinese power in Central Asia. It is clear that
it must at all times have been a direct interest of Chinese border policy to keep nomads, whatever
their race, out of this mountain region. Nor is there reason to doubt that, whenever political
conditions permitted, this safeguard was applied with the same ruthless thoroughness which was
exhibited in clearing these mountains of all Tungans after the last rebellion.

It appeared, therefore, a strange contradiction to this time-honoured policy when, on my