After our return from the Fan (Chap. XII) we left Varziminar on August 11, making straight for the Zarafshan Glacier 150 miles away. This we reached after seven days and a half, thus covering an average of twenty miles per day. Over the flatness of terraces and along the outrun of great slopes travelling was now easy, the only difficulties being those opposed by the fissures which tributary rivers had sunk into the vast blocks of Zarafshan conglomerate. Into and out of these we had to dive by means of corkscrew tracks scratched into the hard grit. Occasionally, when the water had wormed itself through hard rock, the cleft was sufficiently narrow to be spanned by a bridge and in this way we rode over the Chindon torrent 200 feet above its bed, our eyes vainly endeavouring to fathom the dark recesses of a gurgling depth (Fig. 89). Thus having to cross and recross the Zarafshan several times we were treated to samples of every conceivable variety of bridge (Fig. 81). Being innocent of railings and enjoying that springy elasticity which we sorely miss in the carts of the country, they afford good practice for beginners in the art of rope walking. Most people dismount on approaching these frail hyphens of the sundered road, but natives of more than ordinary fatalism or officials pervaded with proper pride remain in the saddle with unconcerned or haughty mien. We always got off and sent the horse on in front, for being weak in the faith and but poor travellers we were unable to look either unconcerned or dignified.