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They could not be prevailed upon to budge, and knowing the Chinese just a little, I reluctantly kept quiet. It was entirely unreasonable to expect them to go on to Ch'u-tung, ninety li away it was impossible.
We were opposite the highest peaks in the mountains beyond the plain, far towards Tengyueh they are 12,000 feet, we were at least 10,500 feet, and as Ch'u-tung is only 5,500 feet, our hours of toil may be imagined. I donned a sweater and lay flat on the ground, exhausted. It must have been a stiff job to bring up both stones and men.
Yung-p'ing-hsien lay over to the right, fifteen li from Ch'u-tung, which is protected from the elements by a bell-shaped hill at the foot of a mountain lit up with gold from the sinking sun, which dipped as I trudged along the uneven zigzag road leading across the plain of peas and beans and winter crops.
My journey was by the following route: Length Height of Stage Above Sea 1st day Ho-chiang-p'u 90 li 5,050 ft. 2nd day Yang-pi 60 li 5,150 ft. 3rd day T'ai-p'ing-p'u 70 li 7,400 ft. 5th day Hwan-lien-p'u 50 li 5,200 ft. 6th day Ch'u-tung 95 li 5,250 ft. 7th day Shayung 75 li 4,800 ft.
After several hours, standing on the very summit of this bleak and lofty mountain, I could just discern Ch'u-tung and Yung-p'ing-hsien far away down in the mists. There lay the "ta lu" also, like a piece of white ribbon stretched across black velvet the white road on the burnt hill-sides.
And the mountains turn upwards to the sky in silent reverence to their Maker, whose work must in the main remain unchanged until eternity. It is now 12:30, and we have fifty li to cover before reaching Ch'u-tung. We sit here to feed at a place called Siao-shui-tsing, a sorry antediluvian make-shift of a building, where in subsequent travel I was hung up in bitter weather and had to pass the night.
Four eight-inch planks, placed at various dangerous angles on three wood trestles, form the bridge across the fifty-foot stream dividing Ch'u-tung from the world on the opposite side. Across this I saw men wander with their loads, and then I led Rusty in. Whilst the stream washed his legs, I sat dangling mine until called upon to make way for another party of travelers.
Remarkable is the agility of these men. They swing along over eight inches of wood as if they were in the middle of a well-paved road. Ch'u-tung is a Mohammedan town.
It was, as they said, merely diseased, and the muleteers went on their way, leaving horse and loads to Providence. This sort of thing is not uncommon. The mountains of Yün-nan. Wonderful scenery. Among the Mohammedans. Sorry scene at Ch'u-tung. A hero of a horrid past. Infinite depth of Chinese character. Mule falls one hundred and fifty yards, and escapes unhurt. Advice to future travelers.
From Hwan-lien-p'u to Ch'u-tung is reckoned as eighty li; it is quite one hundred and ten, and the last part of the journey, over barren, wind-swept hills, most fatiguing. In contrast to the beauty of the morning's scenery, the country was black and bare, and a gale blew in our faces.
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