Adventure stories; China -- Fiction; Science fiction; Tibet Autonomous Region (China) -- Fiction
The valley couldn't have been more than a few thousand feet above sea
level, for down here the air seemed to us, after our mountaineering,
of a tropic heat. We were forced to discard our heavy clothes one by
one, and these loathsome, travel-polluted rags the attendants solemnly
carried for us. We must have cut a boorish and grotesque figure among
these clean, graceful giants of the valley, but never a smile met us
over our ridiculous appearance; if we had aroused a burning curiosity,
little showed itself on the faces of these people but a grave, silent
dignity amounting almost to awe.
We passed on, as if in some fantastic sleep-walking. One day gone,
we had been fighting for bare life in regions of terrible cold and
appalling desert solitude; now we were plunged into the midst of what
was plainly one of the highest civilisations this world has seen. Time
and again I tapped my knee sharply with the rifle that lay beside me
on the litter, to make sure it wasn't all a delirious mirage of the
mountains, but the vision, if vision it was, wouldn't disperse.
Poyning walked with wide-open eyes, muttering continually to himself.
'It can't be real, you know,' I heard him say. 'We shall wake in a
minute--in the snow. The gods are laughing at us. They've dropped us in
a dream valley, peopled with phantom Olympians!'
'How in the name of mystery do these people come to be buried here?' I
said. 'Why has the world never heard of them?'
Poyning pulled his wits together with an effort. 'That's as deep a
riddle to me,' he replied. 'But from what I remember of those ghastly
heights--supposing we _have_ left them--I should say the world hasn't
had much chance to look into the matter.'
I followed his gaze round the vast amphitheatre of mountains, which
towered into the sky on every side of the valley. I am no geologist,
and never harboured any kindness whatever for the layman who holds
forth on sciences outside his ken. For that reason I offer no
explanation as to how this broad, deep depression originally came to
exist in the heart of the greatest upheaved region on our planet. I
will be content to record soberly and barely what my own eyes saw: that
the valley was completely mountain-locked, and apparently couldn't
have been approached from any point with much less than the tremendous
difficulty and hardship we ourselves had experienced in getting here.
Then, in one breath, the pair of us raised a cry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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