The sheep had now finished grazing, and dividing the burden of my luggage among the three—myself and the tow sheep—I started making easy progress onward. I found the country around full of pools of water, varying in size all the way from a hundred yards to a mile or so in circumference, and I gave it the name of Chi-ike-ga Hara — Plain of a thousand Ponds. About, four o'clock in the afternoon I finished the day's journey by encamping near a good-sized pond. I then went about to collect the usual fuel, but found none, except the dung of the wild horse, and I concluded that the neighborhood was never visited even by yaks. The night was extremely cold, so much so that I could not sleep at all, and the following is an utd that occurred to me in the midst of shivering:
On these high plateaux here no sound is heard
Of man or Beast, no criekets sing their tunes,
The moon above, and I, her friend, below.
The following day I made about twelve miles before noon, over a country much the same in topography. Proceeding north-west in the afternoon, I came to the base of a huge mountain of snow, which I could not think of crossing. For a while I went into meditation, and then wended my way in a direction which fortunately proved to be the right one for my purpose, as I found out afterwards. Right in the direction, but all wrong in other respects, as what I have to tell will show.
As I pushed onwards, I soon came upon a region which was quite the opposite of the country I had traversed in its entire absence of water supply ; neither a pool nor a brook was to be seen within the eye's range. I continued my progress until about seven o'clock in the evening — I had walked about twenty-seven miles, all told, that day — but not a drop of water could I find, and I felt as withered up as could be. As for my sheep, there was some green grass growing for them to graze on.
