animals showed great distress. Gyalpo stopped every few yards,
gasping, with blood trickling from his nostrils, and turned his head
so as to look at me, with the question in his eyes, What does this
mean? Hassan Khan was reeling from vertigo, but would not give in;
the seis, a creature without pluck, was carried in a blanket slung on
my tent poles, and even the Tibetans suffered. I felt no
inconvenience, but as I unsaddled Gyalpo I was glad that there was no
more work to do! This 'mountain-sickness,' called by the natives
ladug, or 'pass-poison,' is supposed by them to be the result of the
odour or pollen of certain plants which grow on the passes. Horses
and mules are unable to carry their loads, and men suffer from
vertigo, vomiting, violent headache and bleeding from the nose,
mouth, and ears, as well as prostration of strength, sometimes
complete, and occasionally ending fatally.

After a bitterly cold night I was awakened at dawn by novel sounds,
gruntings, and low, resonant bellowing round my tent, and the grey
light revealed several yaks (the Bos grunniens, the Tibetan ox), the
pride of the Tibetan highlands. This magnificent animal, though not
exceeding an English shorthorn cow in height, looks gigantic, with
his thick curved horns, his wild eyes glaring from under a mass of
curls, his long thick hair hanging to his fetlocks, and his huge
bushy tail. He is usually black or tawny, but the tail is often
white, and is the length of his long hair. The nose is fine and has
a look of breeding as well as power. He only flourishes at altitudes
exceeding 12,000 feet. Even after generations of semi-domestication
he is very wild, and can only be managed by being led with a rope
attached to a ring in the nostrils. He disdains the plough, but
condescends to carry burdens, and numbers of the Ladak and Nubra
people get their living by carrying goods for the traders on his