'Through Persia on a side-saddle' [‎133] (164/360)

OUR STAY IN THE HILLS 133
the hills, running sheer down to the water's edge, rendered
further progress impossible, now on the right bank and
now on the left, the river becoming, as we advanced, a
brawling torrent, its mossy banks bespangled with orchises,
white clover, primulas, and other small flowers.
The vegetation got scantier and scantier, and we found
our tents pitched on a broad slope at the foot of the
mountains, which the huntsmen affirmed were well stocked
with game. We were at a height of 11,000 feet, and
our camp was the solitary dry spot in an extensive morass
of boggy turf, our drinking-water being drawn from a tiny
stream which trickled from the snow lying in large patches
on the bare and mean-looking hills, and had the usual
attributes of snow-water, being designated by the Persians
as sangin (heavy). There was nothing pretty near the
camp for me to sketch, and as the innumerable stones,
which completely covered the ground, precluded all pos
sibility of riding, the horses were sent back to the village
of Lalazar.
My brother was in the habit of starting at daybreak,
and often did not return for ten and sometimes twelve
hours, and invariably came back completely tired out. I
hoped to have accompanied him occasionally on his shoot
ing trips, but I gasped so much and experienced such an
odd feeling of suffocation whenever I attempted to go
uphill, that I was forced to abandon the idea. The air
was evidently too bracing and the height too great for
me, and I felt drained of all energy, even the slight
exertion of rising in the morning making me pant.
My brother bagged three or four moufflon after a
week of hard work, and they made a most welcome
addition to our larder, which a friendly Governor of