In
half an hour we had entered the gorge, and turning round a corner we bade
farewell to the last sight of my master's country.
The gorge was narrow and precipitous; the river was now only a few yards
wide, and roared and thundered against rocks of many tons in weight; the
sound was deafening, for there was a great volume of water. We were two
hours in making less than a mile, and that with danger, sometimes in the
river and sometimes on the rock. There was that damp black smell of
rocks covered with slimy vegetation, as near some huge waterfall where
spray is ever rising. The air was clammy and cold. I cannot conceive
how our horses managed to keep their footing, especially the one with the
pack, and I dreaded the having to return almost as much as going forward.
I suppose this lasted three miles, but it was well midday when the gorge
got a little wider, and a small stream came into it from a tributary
valley. Farther progress up the main river was impossible, for the
cliffs descended like walls; so we went up the side stream, Chowbok
seeming to think that here must be the pass of which reports existed
among his people. We now incurred less of actual danger but more
fatigue, and it was only after infinite trouble, owing to the rocks and
tangled vegetation, that we got ourselves and our horses upon the saddle
from which this small stream descended; by that time clouds had descended
upon us, and it was raining heavily.
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