We encamped near the junction of these rivers, on the right bank of the main stream, at an elevation of 16,620 feet. From the Maium Pass a continuation of the Gangri chain of mountains stretched first in a south-easterly direction, then due east, in a line almost parallel to the higher southern range of the Himahlyas. Between these two ranges was an extensive plain intersected by the Brahmaputra. On the southern side of the river were minor hill ranges between the river course and the big range of majestic snowy peaks. Although no peaks of considerable elevation were to be found along the range north of the Brahmaputra, yet it was of geographical importance, as its southern slopes formed the northern watershed of the holy river as far as Lhassa. The valley enclosed between these two parallel ranges was the most thickly populated part of Tibet. Grass was abundant, and fuel easily obtainable. Thousands of yaks, sheep, and goats could be seen grazing near the many Tibetan camps along the Brahmaputra and its principal tributaries. The trade route of caravans from Ladak to Lhassa followed this valley. As I had come to Tibet to see and study the Tibetans, I thought that, although I might run greater risks, I could in no part of the country accomplish my object better than by going along this thickly populated track. We slept little. We expected the soldiers to attack us during the night to try and stop our progress, but all was quiet and nothing happened. Our yaks got loose, and we had difficulty in recovering them in the morning. They had swum across the stream, and had gone about a mile on the other side. The night had been very cold, the thermometer dropping as low as 32-1/2 deg. We did not pitch our little tent, as we wanted to be ready in case of attack. We were tired and cold after the long march of the previous day. There was a south-westerly breeze blowing. It was hard work to have to cross the river, chase the yaks and bring them back to camp; then, exhausted as we were, to get the loads on them.