We passed three weeks in exploring, and never did I find time go more quickly.  The weather was fine, though the nights got very cold.  We followed every stream but one, and always found it lead us to a glacier which was plainly impassable, at any rate without a larger party and ropes.  One stream remained, which I should have followed up already, had not Chowbok said that he had risen early one morning while I was yet asleep, and after going up it for three or four miles, had seen that it was impossible to go farther.  I had long ago discovered that he was a great liar, so I was bent on going up myself:  in brief, I did so:  so far from being impossible, it was quite easy travelling; and after five or six miles I saw a saddle at the end of it, which, though covered deep in snow, was not glaciered, and which did verily appear to be part of the main range itself.  No words can express the intensity of my delight.  My blood was all on fire with hope and elation; but on looking round for Chowbok, who was behind me, I saw to my surprise and anger that he had turned back, and was going down the valley as hard as he could.  He had left me.

CHAPTER IV:  THE SADDLE

I cooeyed to him, but he would not hear.  I ran after him, but he had got too good a start.  Then I sat down on a stone and thought the matter carefully over.  It was plain that Chowbok had designedly attempted to keep me from going up this valley, yet he had shown no unwillingness to follow me anywhere else.  What could this mean, unless that I was now upon the route by which alone the mysteries of the great ranges could be revealed?  What then should I do?  Go back at the very moment when it had become plain that I was on the right scent?  Hardly; yet to proceed alone would be both difficult and dangerous.  It would be bad enough to return to my master’s run, and pass through the rocky gorges, with no chance of help from another should I get into a difficulty; but to advance for any considerable distance without a companion would be next door to madness.  Accidents which are slight when there is another at hand (as the spraining of an ankle, or the falling into some place whence escape would be easy by means of an outstretched hand and a bit of rope) may be fatal to one who is alone.  The more I pondered the less I liked it; and yet, the less could I make up my mind to return when I looked at the saddle at the head of the valley, and noted the comparative ease with which its smooth sweep of snow might be surmounted:  I seemed to see my way almost from my present position to the very top.  After much thought, I resolved to go forward until I should come to some place which was really dangerous, but then to return.  I should thus, I hoped, at any rate reach the top of the saddle, and satisfy myself as to what might be on the other side.