CHAPTER IV
THE AVALANCHE
On the morning of the second day from that night the sunrise found usalready on our path across the desert. There, nearly a mile behind us,we could see the ruined statue of Buddha seated in front of the ancientmonastery, and in that clear atmosphere could even distinguish the bentform of our friend, the old abbot, Kou-en, leaning against it until wewere quite lost to sight. All the monks had wept when we parted fromthem, and Kou-en even more bitterly than the rest, for he had learned tolove us.
"I am grieved," he said, "much grieved, which indeed I should not be,for such emotion partakes of sin. Yet I find comfort, for I know wellthat although I must soon leave this present life, yet we shall meetagain in many future incarnations, and after you have put away thesefollies, together tread the path to perfect peace. Now take with you myblessings and my prayers and begone, forgetting not that should you liveto return"--and he shook his head, doubtfully--"here you will be everwelcome."
So we embraced him and went sorrowfully.
It will be remembered that when the mysterious light fell upon us on thepeak I had my compass with me and was able roughly to take its bearings.For lack of any better guide we now followed these bearings, travellingalmost due north-east, for in that direction had shone the fire. Allday in the most beautiful weather we marched across the flower-strewndesert, seeing nothing except bunches of game and one or two herds ofwild asses which had come down from the mountains to feed upon the newgrass. As evening approached we shot an antelope and made our camp--forwe had brought the yak and a tent with us--among some tamarisk scrub, ofwhich the dry stems furnished us with fuel. Nor did we lack for water,since by scraping in the sand soaked with melted snow, we found plentyof fair quality. So that night we supped in luxury upon tea and antelopemeat, which indeed we were glad to have, as it spared our little storeof dried provisions.
The next morning we ascertained our position as well as we could, andestimated that we had crossed about a quarter of the desert, a guesswhich proved very accurate, for on the evening of the fourth day of ourjourney we reached the bottom slopes of the opposing mountains, withouthaving experienced either accident or fatigue. As Leo said, things were"going like clockwork," but I reminded him that a good start often meanta bad finish. Nor was I wrong, for now came our hardships. To beginwith, the mountains proved to be exceeding high; it took us two daysto climb their lower slopes. Also the heat of the sun had softened thesnow, which made walking through it laborious, whilst, accustomedthough we were to such conditions through long years of travelling, itscontinual glitter affected our eyes.
The morning of the seventh day found us in the mouth of a defile whichwound away into the heart of the mountains. As it seemed the onlypossible path, we followed it, and were much cheered to discover thathere must once have run a road. Not that we could see any road, indeed,for everything was buried in snow. But that one lay beneath our feet wewere certain, since, although we marched along the edge of precipices,our path, however steep, was always flat; moreover, the rock upon oneside of it had often been scarped by the hand of man. Of this therecould be no doubt, for as the snow did not cling here, we saw the toolmarks upon its bare surface.
Also we came to several places where galleries had been built out fromthe mountain side, by means of beams let into it, as is still a commonpractice in Thibet. These beams of course had long since rotted away,leaving a gulf between us and the continuation of the path. When we metwith such gaps we were forced to go back and make a detour round or oversome mountain; but although much delayed thereby, as it happened, wealways managed to regain the road, if not without difficulty and danger.
What tried us more--for here our skill and experience as mountaineerscould not help us--was the cold at night, obliged as we were to campin the severe frost at a great altitude, and to endure through the longhours of darkness penetrating and icy winds, which soughed ceaselesslydown the pass.
At length on the tenth day we reached the end of the defile, and asnight was falling, camped there in the most bitter cold. Those weremiserable hours, for now we had no fuel with which to boil water, andmust satisfy our thirst by eating frozen snow, while our eyes smartedso sorely that we could not sleep, and notwithstanding all our wraps andthe warmth that we gathered from the yak in the little tent, the coldcaused our teeth to chatter like castanets.
The dawn came, and, after it, the sunrise. We crept from the tent, andleaving it standing awhile, dragged our stiffened limbs a hundred yardsor so to a spot where the defile took a turn, in order that we mightthaw in the rays of the sun, which at that hour could not reach us wherewe had camped.
Leo was round it first, and I heard him utter an exclamation. In a fewseconds I reached his side, and lo! before us lay our Promised Land.
Far beneath us, ten thousand feet at least--for it must be rememberedthat we viewed it from the top of a mountain--it stretched away and awaytill its distances met the horizon. In character it was quite flat, analluvial plain that probably, in some primeval age, had been the bottomof one of the vast lakes of which a number exist in Central Asia, mostof them now in process of desiccation. One object only relieved thisdreary flatness, a single, snow-clad, and gigantic mountain, of whicheven at that distance--for it was very far from us--we could clearly seethe outline. Indeed we could see more, for from its rounded crest rose agreat plume of smoke, showing that it was an active volcano, and on thehither lip of the crater an enormous pillar of rock, whereof the top wasformed to the shape of a loop.
Yes, there it stood before us, that symbol of our vision which we hadsought these many years, and at the sight of it our hearts beat fast andour breath came quickly. We noted at once that although we had not seenit during our passage of the mountains, since the peaks ahead and therocky sides of the defile hid it from view, so great was its height thatit overtopped the tallest of them. This made it clear to us how it cameto be possible that the ray of light passing through the loop could fallupon the highest snows of that towering pinnacle which we had climbedupon the further side of the desert.
Also now we were certain of the cause of that ray, for the smoke behindthe loop explained this mystery. Doubtless, at times when the volcanowas awake, that smoke must be replaced by flame, emitting light offearful intensity, and this light it was that reached us, concentratedand directed by the loop.
For the rest we thought that about thirty miles away we could make out awhite-roofed town set upon a mound, situated among trees upon the banksof a wide river, which flowed across the plain. Also it was evident thatthis country had a large population who cultivated the soil, for bythe aid of a pair of field glasses, one of our few remaining and mostcherished possessions, we could see the green of springing crops piercedby irrigation canals and the lines of trees that marked the limits ofthe fields.
Yes, there before us stretched the Promised Land, and there rose themystic Mount, so that all we had to do was to march down the snow slopesand enter it where we would.
Thus we thought in our folly, little guessing what lay before us, whatterrors and weary suffering we must endure before we stood at lengthbeneath the shadow of the Symbol of Life.
Our fatigues forgotten, we returned to the tent, hastily swallowed someof our dried food, which we washed down with lumps of snow that gave ustoothache and chilled us inside, but which thirst compelled us to eat,dragged the poor yak to its feet, loaded it up, and started.
All this while, so great was our haste and so occupied were each ofus with our own thoughts that, if my memory serves me, we scarcelyinterchanged a word. Down the snow slopes we marched swiftly and withouthesitation, for here the road was marked for us by means of pillars ofrock set opposite to one another at intervals. These pillars we observedwith satisfaction, for they told us that we were still upon a highwaywhich led to the Promised Land.
Yet, as we could not help noting, it was one which seemed to have goneout of use, since with the exception of a few wild-sheep tracks and thespoor of some bears and mou
ntain foxes, not a single sign of beast orman could we discover. This, however, was to be explained, we reflected,by the fact that doubtless the road was only used in the summer season.Or perhaps the inhabitants of the country were now stay-at-home peoplewho never travelled it at all.
Those slopes were longer than we thought; indeed, when darkness closedin we had not reached the foot of them. So we were obliged to spendanother night in the snow, pitching our tent in the shelter ofan over-hanging rock. As we had descended many thousand feet, thetemperature proved, fortunately, a little milder; indeed, I do notthink that there were more than eighteen or twenty degrees of frost thatnight. Also here and there the heat of the sun had melted the snow insecluded places, so that we were able to find water to drink, while theyak could fill its poor old stomach with dead-looking mountain mosses,which it seemed to think better than nothing.
Again, the still dawn came, throwing its red garment over the lonesome,endless mountains, and we dragged ourselves to our numbed feet, ate someof our remaining food, and started onwards. Now we could no longer seethe country beneath, for it and even the towering volcano were hiddenfrom us by an intervening ridge that seemed to be pierced by a singlenarrow gulley, towards which we headed. Indeed, as the pillars showedus, thither ran the buried road. By mid-day it appeared quite close tous, and we tramped on in feverish haste. As it chanced, however, therewas no need to hurry, for an hour later we learned the truth.
Between us and the mouth of the gulley rose, or rather sank, a sheerprecipice that was apparently three or four hundred feet in depth, andat its foot we could hear the sound of water.
Right to the edge of this precipice ran the path, for one of the stonepillars stood upon its extreme brink, and yet how could a road descendsuch a place as that? We stared aghast; then a possible solutionoccurred to us.
"Don't you see," said Leo, with a hollow laugh, "the gulf has openedsince this track was used: volcanic action probably."
"Perhaps, or perhaps there was a wooden bridge or stairway which hasrotted. It does not matter. We must find another path, that is all," Ianswered as cheerfully as I could.
"Yes, and soon," he said, "if we do not wish to stop here for ever."
So we turned to the right and marched along the edge of the precipicetill, a mile or so away, we came to a small glacier, of which thesurface was sprinkled with large stones frozen into its substance. Thisglacier hung down the face of the cliff like a petrified waterfall, butwhether or no it reached the foot we could not discover. At any rate,to think of attempting its descent seemed out of the question. From thispoint onwards we could see that the precipice increased in depth and faras the eye could reach was absolutely sheer.
So we went back again and searched to the left of our road. Here themountains receded, so that above us rose a mighty, dazzling slope ofsnow and below us lay that same pitiless, unclimbable gulf. As the lightbegan to fade we perceived, half a mile or more in front a bare-toppedhillock of rock, which stood on the verge of the precipice, and hurriedto it, thinking that from its crest we might be able to discover a wayof descent.
When at length we had struggled to the top, it was about a hundred andfifty feet high; what we did discover was that, here also, as beyond theglacier, the gulf was infinitely deeper than at the spot where the roadended, so deep indeed that we could not see its bottom, although from itcame the sound of roaring water. Moreover, it was quite half a mile inwidth.
Whilst we stared round us the sinking sun vanished behind a mountainand, the sky being heavy, the light went out like that of a candle. Nowthe ascent of this hillock had proved so steep, especially at one place,where we were obliged to climb a sort of rock ladder, that we scarcelycared to attempt to struggle down it again in that gloom. Therefore,remembering that there was little to choose between the top of thisknoll and the snow plain at its foot in the matter of temperature orother conveniences, and being quite exhausted, we determined to spendthe night upon it, thereby, as we were to learn, saving our lives.
Unloading the yak, we pitched our tent under the lee of the topmost knobof rock and ate a couple of handfuls of dried fish and corn-cake. Thiswas the last of the food that we had brought with us from the Lamasery,and we reflected with dismay that unless we could shoot something, ourcommissariat was now represented by the carcass of our old friend theyak. Then we wrapped ourselves up in our thick rugs and fur garments andforgot our miseries in sleep.
It cannot have been long before daylight when we were awakened by asudden and terrific sound like the boom of a great cannon, followed bythousands of other sounds, which might be compared to the fusillade ofmusketry.
"Great Heaven! What is that?" I said.
We crawled from the tent, but as yet could see nothing, whilst the yakbegan to low in a terrified manner. But if we could not see we couldhear and feel. The booming and cracking had ceased, and was followed bya soft, grinding noise, the most sickening sound, I think, to whichI ever listened. This was accompanied by a strange, steady, unnaturalwind, which seemed to press upon us as water presses. Then the dawnbroke and we saw.
The mountain-side was moving down upon us in a vast avalanche of snow.
Oh! what a sight was that. On from the crest of the precipitous slopesabove, two miles and more away, it came, a living thing, rolling,sliding, gliding; piling itself in long, leaping waves, hollowing itselfinto cavernous valleys, like a tempest-driven sea, whilst above itssurface hung a powdery cloud of frozen spray.
As we watched, clinging to each other terrified, the first of thesewaves struck our hill, causing the mighty mass of solid rock to quiverlike a yacht beneath the impact of an ocean roller, or an aspen ina sudden rush of wind. It struck and slowly separated, then with amajestic motion flowed like water over the edge of the precipice oneither side, and fell with a thudding sound into the unmeasured depthsbeneath. And this was but a little thing, a mere forerunner, for afterit, with a slow, serpentine movement, rolled the body of the avalanche.
It came in combers, it came in level floods. It piled itself against ourhill, yes, to within fifty feet of the head of it, till we thought thateven that rooted rock must be torn from its foundations and hurled likea pebble to the deeps beneath. And the turmoil of it all! The screamingof the blast caused by the compression of the air, the dull, continuousthudding of the fall of millions of tons of snow as they rushed throughspace and ended their journey in the gulf.
Nor was this the worst of it, for as the deep snows above thinned, greatboulders that had been buried beneath them, perhaps for centuries, wereloosened from their resting-places and began to thunder down the hill.At first they moved slowly, throwing up the hard snow around them as theprow of a ship throws foam. Then gathering momentum, they sprang intothe air with leaps such as those of shells ricocheting upon water, tillin the end, singing and hurtling, many of them rushed past and even overus to vanish far beyond. Some indeed struck our little mountain with theforce of shot fired from the great guns of a battle-ship, and shatteredthere, or if they fell upon its side, tore away tons of rock and passedwith them into the chasm like a meteor surrounded by its satellites.Indeed, no bombardment devised and directed by man could have been halfso terrible or, had there been anything to destroy, half so destructive.
The scene was appalling in its unchained and resistless might evolvedsuddenly from the completest calm. There in the lap of the quietmountains, looked down upon by the peaceful, tender sky, the powershidden in the breast of Nature were suddenly set free, and, companionedby whirlwinds and all the terrifying majesty of sound, loosed upon theheads of us two human atoms.
At the first rush of snow we had leapt back behind our protecting peakand, lying at full length upon the ground, gripped it and clung there,fearing lest the wind should whirl us to the abyss. Long ago our tenthad gone like a dead leaf in an autumn gale, and at times it seemed asif we must follow.
The boulders hurtled over and past us; one of them, fell full upon thelittle peak, shattering its crest and bursting into fragments, whichfled
away, each singing its own wild song. We were not touched, butwhen we looked behind us it was to see the yak, which had risen in itsterror, lying dead and headless. Then in our fear we lay still, waitingfor the end, and wondering dimly whether we should be buried in thesurging snow or swept away with the hill, or crushed by the flyingrocks, or lifted and lost in the hurricane.
How long did it last? We never knew. It may have been ten minutes ortwo hours, for in such a scene time loses its proportion. Only we becameaware that the wind had fallen, while the noise of grinding snow andhurtling boulders ceased. Very cautiously we gained our feet and looked.
In front of us was sheer mountain side, for a depth of over two miles,the width of about a thousand yards, which had been covered with manyfeet of snow, was now bare rock. Piled up against the face of our hill,almost to its summit, lay a tongue of snow, pressed to the consistencyof ice and spotted with boulders that had lodged there. The peak itselfwas torn and shattered, so that it revealed great gleaming surfacesand pits, in which glittered mica, or some other mineral. The vast gulfbehind was half filled with the avalanche and its debris. But forthe rest, it seemed as though nothing had happened, for the sun shonesweetly overhead and the solemn snows reflected its rays from the sidesof a hundred hills. And we had endured it all and were still alive; yes,and unhurt.
But what a position was ours! We dared not attempt to descend the mount,lest we should sink into the loose snow and be buried there. Moreover,all along the breadth of the path of the avalanche boulders from time totime still thundered down the rocky slope, and with them came patches ofsnow that had been left behind by the big slide, small in themselves,it is true, but each of them large enough to kill a hundred men. Itwas obvious, therefore, that until these conditions changed, or deathreleased us, we must abide where we were upon the crest of the hillock.
So there we sat, foodless and frightened, wondering what our old friendKou-en would say if he could see us now. By degrees hunger mastered allour other sensations and we began to turn longing eyes upon the headlessbody of the yak.
"Let's skin him," said Leo, "it will be something to do, and we shallwant his hide to-night."
So with affection, and even reverence, we performed this office for thedead companion of our journeyings, rejoicing the while that it was notwe who had brought him to his end. Indeed, long residence among peopleswho believed fully that the souls of men could pass into, or were risenfrom, the bodies of animals, had made us a little superstitious on thismatter. It would be scarcely pleasant, we reflected, in some futureincarnation, to find our faithful friend clad in human form and to hearhim bitterly reproach us for his murder.
Being dead, however, these arguments did not apply to eating him, as wewere sure he would himself acknowledge. So we cut off little bits ofhis flesh and, rolling them in snow till they looked as though they werenicely floured, hunger compelling us, swallowed them at a gulp. It was adisgusting meal and we felt like cannibals: but what could we do?
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