The excuse we gave was that we were
suffering from confinement and needed exercise, having by the teaching
of our religion no scruples about killing game.
Our hosts replied that the adventure was dangerous, as the weather might
change at any moment. They told us, however, that on the slopes of this
very mountain which we desired to climb, there was a large natural cave
where, if need be, we could take shelter, and to this cave one of them,
somewhat younger and more active than the rest, offered to guide us. So,
having manufactured a rougri tent from skins, and laden our old yak, now
in the best of condition, with food and garments, on one still morning
we started as soon as it was light. Under the guidance of the monk, who,
notwithstanding his years, walked very well, we reached the northern
slope of the peak before mid-day. Here, as he had said, we found a great
cave of which the opening was protected by an over-hanging ledge of
rock. Evidently this cave was the favourite place of shelter for game at
certain seasons of the year, since in it were heaped vast accumulations
of their droppings, which removed any fear of a lack of fuel.
The rest of that short day we spent in setting up our tent in the cave,
in front of which we lit a large fire, and in a survey of the slopes of
the mountain, for we told the monk that we were searching for the tracks
of wild sheep.
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