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TO THE YARKAND-DARIA. II
the perpendicular cliffs, we rested more than a day. It
was delightful to be in the forest during the day, and the
night breathed deep solemnity, especially when the big
camel caravans, carrying wool from Kashgar, tramped
silently past. I used to lie and listen with indescribable
pleasure to the hollow ding-dong of the leader’s bell in the
distance. The sound grew more and more distinct, the
A Camel Caravan Fording an Arm of ihe Kizil-su,
solemn echo keeping time with the calm, majestic stalk
of the camels. Peeping out of my tent, I saw the huge
black forms flitting past like spectres. Their soft padded
feet made no sound, though the rocky walls flung back
again and again the harsh echoes of the caravan bells.
Then, creeping back into my bed, I heard the sound slowly
die away amongst the mountains. Perhaps it may seem
strange that such a simple thing as the sound of bells
should exercise such a hypnotic power upon the nerves,
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