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TIBETAN NOMADS. 371
The last arm was the worst, for although it was not more
than a hundred feet across, it was deep and swift, and
churned into foam. The other two got safely across, and
then it was my turn. Putting my horse into the water, I
headed him straight for the point where Shagdur and the
Lama were standing on the opposite bank. I felt the water
rising up the legs of my boots. Splash, splash into them it
went. Then it was over my knees ; then my saddle was
under water, and there was nothing visible except the
horse’s head and mane. The Lama and Shagdur flung
themselves upon their knees, screaming and gesticulating,
trying to point out to me which way the ford ran ; but I
could not hear a word, owing to the rushing of the flood.
At length, however, thinking it was time to part company
with my horse, I kicked my feet out of the stirrups and
wriggled out of my skin-overcoat, and prepared to strike
out, when I felt my horse lose his footing and begin to swim.
At the same time he was being carried rapidly down-stream,
though luckily towards the bank. Instinctively I clutched
at his mane and went with him. In less than half-a-minute
he got his feet again, and making desperate efforts, succeeded
in scrambling up the bank.
But, Saju-sangpo, we had conquered you ! For my own
part I was like a drowned cat, and yet that did not matter
much, for the rain had already soaked us to the skin. For
some little time I felt my knees trembhng under me ; for
no matter how strong a swimmer a man may be, a situation
like that I had just been in is anything but a comfortable
one. My boots were remarkably waterproof, and after
riding some distance it occurred to me that there was really
no necessity for me to carry so much water with mc, so I
stopped and pulled them off, and having emptied them slung
them across the saddle behind me, and then rode barefoot.
Our camp that evening presented a queer spectacle
—
not a dry stitch throughout the entire caravan, several
24*
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