We traveled quickly along the winding trail of the Buret Hei and in
two days began to make the elevations of the mountain pass between the
valleys of the Buret Hei and Kharga. The trail was not only very
steep but was also littered with fallen larch trees and frequently
intercepted, incredible as it may seem, with swampy places where the
horses mired badly. Then again we picked our dangerous road over cobbles
and small stones that rolled away under our horses' feet and bumped off
over the precipice nearby. Our horses fatigued easily in passing this
moraine that had been strewn by ancient glaciers along the mountain
sides. Sometimes the trail led right along the edge of the precipices
where the horses started great slides of stones and sand. I remember
one whole mountain covered with these moving sands. We had to leave our
saddles and, taking the bridles in our hands, to trot for a mile or more
over these sliding beds, sometimes sinking in up to our knees and
going down the mountain side with them toward the precipices below. One
imprudent move at times would have sent us over the brink. This destiny
met one of our horses. Belly down in the moving trap, he could not work
free to change his direction and so slipped on down with a mass of it
until he rolled over the precipice and was lost to us forever. We heard
only the crackling of breaking trees along his road to death. Then with
great difficulty we worked down to salvage the saddle and bags. Further
along we had to abandon one of our pack horses which had come all the
way from the northern border of Urianhai with us. We first unburdened
it but this did not help; no more did our shouting and threats. He only
stood with his head down and looked so exhausted that we realized he
had reached the further bourne of his land of toil. Some Soyots with us
examined him, felt of his muscles on the fore and hind legs, took his
head in their hands and moved it from side to side, examined his head
carefully after that and then said: