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In the forbidden land

by Arnold Henry Savage Landor · English · Gutenberg #22210 · 890,475 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: In the forbidden land
        an account of a journey into Tibet, capture by the Tibetan lamas and soldiers, imprisonment, torture and ultimate release

Author: Arnold Henry Savage Landor


        
Release date: August 1, 2007 [eBook #22210]
                Most recently updated: January 2, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22210

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        Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN THE FORBIDDEN LAND ***




Produced by Michael Ciesielski and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net










IN THE FORBIDDEN LAND


_Times_: "The ordinary reader will be struck with the portraits, which
show that in a very few weeks he must have endured a lifetime of
concentrated misery. Other travellers, no doubt, have gone further, but
none who have escaped with their lives have fared worse.... Mr. Landor
tells a plain and manly tale, without affectation or bravado. It is a
book, certainly, that will be read with interest and excitement."

_Athenæum_: "The account he has written of his travels and adventures is
vivid and often fascinating. His frequent notices of curious customs are
full of interest, and numerous illustrations from photographs or sketches
taken on the spot render this one of the most attractive records of
travel published recently."

_Guardian_: "Life, according to Mr. Landor, has 'barely a dull moment,'
and the gloomiest of us will admit that this is at least true of that
part of life which may be devoted to the reading of his latest book."

_World_: "He has contrived, even in circumstances of cruel disadvantage,
to present a wonderfully minute and impressive series of pictures of the
life, manners, and customs of the Tibetans. No less powerful and vivid
are his descriptions of the scenery and natural phenomena of the
Forbidden Land, which are reinforced by an ample series of illustrations
that attain a high standard of artistic excellence. Mr. Landor's bitter
experiences have had at least the advantage of providing him with
material for the most absorbing travel book produced within recent
times."

_Daily Telegraph_: "Mr. Landor's story is one of the most extraordinary
tales of modern times, yet even the most sceptical reader will admire the
vigour with which it is told, and the endurance with which the explorer
and his faithful servants bore up against their savage captors."

_Standard_: "The book fascinates ... The verbal pictures it gives are
extremely vivid, and the effect of them is greatly heightened by the
numerous drawings and photographs by the author. Mr. Landor is an artist
as well as traveller and writer, and he knows how to use his pencil and
brush to emphasise his letter-press. Whatever may be said of the wisdom
of his enterprises, his book is certainly a remarkable contribution to
the literature of modern travel."

_Daily News_: "The great library of travel in the East has not received
for many a year a more important addition than this bright, picturesque,
and instructive volume."

_Daily Chronicle_: "Mr. Landor is an artist as well as a writer, and this
handsome volume is most lavishly illustrated with sketches and
photographs. Apart from its intense interest as a story of stirring
adventure, the book is a valuable storehouse of information on Southern
Tibet and its people, and on the little known Indian district of Northern
Kumaon. This is surely a record of devotion to geographical science such
as no previous explorer has been able to show."

[Illustration: A. HENRY SAVAGE LANDOR AND HIS TWO FAITHFUL SERVANTS]




IN THE FORBIDDEN LAND

AN ACCOUNT OF A JOURNEY IN TIBET

CAPTURE BY THE TIBETAN AUTHORITIES

IMPRISONMENT, TORTURE, AND

ULTIMATE RELEASE

BY

A. HENRY SAVAGE LANDOR

AUTHOR OF

"_COREA, OR THE LAND OF THE MORNING CALM_,"

"_ALONE WITH THE HAIRY AINU_," _ETC._

ALSO VARIOUS OFFICIAL DOCUMENTS, INCLUDING THE ENQUIRY

AND REPORT BY J. LARKIN, ESQ., APPOINTED

BY THE GOVERNMENT OF INDIA

_With Two Hundred and Fifty-one Illustrations
And a Map_

LONDON

WILLIAM HEINEMANN

1899

_First Edition (2 Vols. 8vo), October 1898_
_New Impression (2 Vols. 8vo), November 1898_
_New Edition (1 Vol. 8vo), May 1899_

_This Edition enjoys copyright in all
Countries signatory to the Berne
Treaty, and is not to be imported into
the United States of America._


I DEDICATE THIS BOOK

TO

MY FATHER & MOTHER




PREFACE


IN this book I have set down the record of a journey in Tibet undertaken
by me during the spring, summer and autumn of 1897. It is illustrated
partly from my photographs and partly from sketches made by me on the
spot. Only as regards the torture scenes have I had to draw from memory,
but it will be easily conceded that their impression must be vivid enough
with me.

The map is made entirely from my surveys of an area of twelve thousand
five hundred square miles in Tibet proper. In Chapter VI. the altitudes
of such high peaks in India as Nanda Devi and others are taken from the
Trigonometrical Survey, and so are the positions fixed by astronomical
observations of the starting and terminating points of my surveys at the
places where I entered and left Tibet.

In the orthography of geographical names I have adopted the course
advised by the Royal Geographical Society--viz., to give the names their
true sound as they are locally pronounced, and I have made no exception
even for the grand and poetic "Himahlya" which is in English usually
distorted into the unmusical and unromantic word "Himalayas."

I submit with all deference the following geographical results of my
expedition:

The solution of the uncertainty regarding the division of the Mansarowar
and Rakstal Lakes.

The ascent to so great an altitude as 22,000 feet, and the pictures of
some of the great Himahlyan glaciers.

The visit to and the fixing of the position of the two principal sources
of the Brahmaputra, never before reached by a European.

The fact that with only two men I was able to travel for so long in the
most populated part of Tibet.

In addition to the above, I am glad to state that owing to the publicity
which I gave on my return to the outrageous Tibetan abuses taking place
on British soil, the Government of India at last, in the summer of 1898,
notified the Tibetan authorities that they will no longer be permitted to
collect Land Revenue from British subjects there. This fact gives me
special satisfaction, because of the exceptional courtesy and kindness
bestowed on me by our mountain tribesmen, the Shokas.

The Government Report of the official Investigation of my case, as well
as other documents substantiating the details of my narrative, are
printed in an appendix.

A. H. S. L.

_May 1899_




CONTENTS


PREFACE p. ix

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS p. xxii

I
     FROM LONDON TO NAINI TAL Pp. 1-3

II
     Loads--A set of useful pack-saddle cases--Provisions and scientific
     outfit--Clothes and shoes--Medicines--Under way--The first
     march--Servants--How I came to employ faithful Chanden Sing pp. 4-10

III
     Pithoragarh--Fakir women--A well-ventilated abode--Askote--The
     Rajiwar and his people Pp. 11-16

IV
     The Raots--A slippery journey--Superstitious notions--Anger and
     jealousy--Friends--To the homes of the
     savages--Photography--Habitations Pp. 17-26

V
     A pilgrim from Mansarowar Lake--The spirits of the mountains--A
     safeguard against them--Tibetan encampments--The Rajiwar--A
     waterfall--Watermills Pp. 27-34

VI
     Highways and trade routes--The Darma route--The Dholi River--A rough
     track connecting two valleys--Glaciers--Three ranges and their
     peaks--Altitudes--_Darma, Johar_, and the _Painkhanda_ Parganas--The
     highest peak in the British Empire--Natural boundaries Pp. 35-40

VII
     The word _Bhot_ and its meaning--Tibetan influence--Tibetan
     abuses--The ever-helpful Chanden Sing--The first Shoka
     village--Chanden Sing in disgrace--Weaving-loom--Fabrics--All's well
     that ends well Pp. 41-45

VIII
     Prayers by wind-power--Photography under difficulties--A night of
     misery--Drying up--Two lady missionaries--Their valuable work--An
     interesting dinner party--An "eccentric" man's tea party Pp. 46-52

IX
     Discouraging reports--A steep ascent--How I came to deserve the name
     of "monkey"--Hard at work--Promoted in rank--Collapse in a gale of
     wind--Time and labour lost Pp. 53-56

X
     The _Nerpani_, or "waterless track"--Exaggerated accounts--A long
     shot--The rescue of two coolies--Picturesque Nature--An involuntary
     shower-bath--The _Chai_ Pass Pp. 57-62

XI
     A series of misfortunes--Tibetan atrocities on British
     subjects--Tibetan exactions--Revolting cruelty to one of her
     Majesty's subjects--Assault on a British officer--A smart British
     Envoy Pp. 63-68

XII
     Tibetan threats--My birthday--Ravenous dogs--A big dinner--Shoka
     hospitality Pp. 69-73

XIII
     Shoka hospitality--How I obtained much information--On a
     reconnoitring trip--A terrible slide Pp. 74-80

XIV
     A palaver--To see is to believe--Dangers and perils on the snow and
     ice--_Thar_ and _Ghural_--Stalking--A tiring climb to 16,000
     feet--The collapse of a snow bridge Pp. 81-85

XV
     An earthquake--Curious notions of the natives--A Shoka tailor and
     his ways--The arrival of silver cash--Two rocks in the
     Kali--Arrogance of a Tibetan spy Pp. 86-91

XVI
     The _Rambang_--Shoka music--Love-songs--Doleful singing--Abrupt
     ending--Solos--Smoking--When marriage is contemplated--The
     _Delang_--Adultery--Punishment Pp. 92-97

XVII
     FUNERAL RITES: Departure of the Soul--Cremation--Amusement of the
     dead man's soul--The lay figure--Feasting--Doleful
     dance--Transmigration of the soul--Expensive ceremonies--Offerings
     before the lay figure--Dancing and contortions--Martial dances--Solo
     dances--The animal to be sacrificed and the lay figure--Chasing the
     animal from the village--Tearing out its heart--The yak driven over
     a precipice--Head shaving--A sacred cave Pp. 98-110

XVIII
     Touching Shoka farewell--Feelings curiously expressed--Sobs and
     tears--The start--A funereal procession--Distressed father and
     mother--Kachi and Dola the worse for drink--Anxious moments--The
     bridge destroyed Pp. 111-115

XIX
     A dangerous track--Perilous passage--A curious bridge over a
     precipice--Pathetic Shoka custom--Small misadventures--A grand
     reception--Tea for all tastes Pp. 116-119

XX
     Dr. Wilson joins my expedition for a few marches--What misdeeds a
     photographic camera can do--Weighing, dividing, and packing
     provisions--Two extra men wanted--The last friendly faces Pp.
     120-122

XXI
     The Kuti Castle--Under way--Our first disaster--A cheerful and a
     sulky coolie--Mansing--A brigand--A strange medley of followers--A
     character--Tailoring--Fields of stones--Troublesome rivers--The
     Jolinkan or Lebung Pass--Sense of humour--Pleased with small
     comforts Pp. 123-130

XXII
     Want of fuel--Cooking under difficulty--Mansing lost and
     found--Saved from summary justice--Tibetan visitors--We purchase
     sheep--The snow-line--Cold streams--The petrified _chapati_ and
     human hand Pp. 131-136

XXIII
     The scout's return--A small exploring party--The Mangshan glacier
     Pp. 137-140

XXIV
     Snow and troublesome _débris_--The doctor's sufferings--Kachi
     disabled--Further trials--A weird apparition--Delirium--All
     safe--The descent Pp. 141-147

XXV
     The sources of the Kuti River--The Lumpiya glacier--The summit of
     the range--Bird's-eye view of Tibet--Rubso frozen almost to
     death--The Lumpiya Pass--Two coolies in distress Pp. 148-153

XXVI
     Mysterious footprints--Brigand or spy?--Passes and tracks--Intense
     cold--No fuel--A high flat plateau--Fuel at last!--Two spies in
     disguise--What they took us for Pp. 154-157

XXVII
     Lama Chokden--A Tibetan guard--The sacred Kelas--Reverence of my men
     for the sacred Mountain--Trying hard to keep friends with the
     gods--_Obos_--Water flowing to us Pp. 158-161

XXVIII
     An extensive valley--Kiang, or wild horse--Their strange ways--The
     Gyanema fort--Apprehension at our appearance--A parley--"Cut off our
     heads!"--Revolt and murder contemplated--Hypocritica ways of Tibetan
     officials--Help summoned from everywhere--Preparing for war Pp.
     162-166

XXIX
     Arrival of a high official--The Barca Tarjum--A tedious palaver--The
     Tarjum's anxiety--Permission to proceed--A traitor--Entreated to
     retrace our steps--Thirty armed horsemen--A pretty speech Pp.
     167-173

XXX
     Spying our movements--Disguised sepoys--A gloomy
     look-out--Troublesome followers--Another march back--An amusing
     incident Pp. 174-177

XXXI
     An attempt that failed--A resolution--A smart Shoka lad--The plucky
     Chanden Sing proposes to accompany me--Mansing the leper becomes my
     servant's servant Pp. 178-181

XXXII
     "Devil's Camp"--A fierce snowstorm--Abandoning our tents--Dangers
     and perils in prospect--Collecting the men--One load too
     many!--Another man wanted and found--A propitious night--Good-bye to
     Wilson--The escape--Brigands Pp. 182-186

XXXIII
     S.E. wind--Hungry and half frozen--Lakes at 18,960 feet above
     sea-level--Cold food at high altitudes--Buried in snow--Mansing's
     sufferings--Fuel at last Pp. 187-191

XXXIV
     Dacoits--No nonsense allowed--A much-frequented region--A
     plateau--The Gyanema-Taklakot track--A dangerous spot--Soldiers
     waiting for us--Burying our baggage--Out of provisions--A fall into
     the Gakkon River--A bright idea--Nettles our only diet Pp. 192-197

XXXV
     All that remained of my men's provisions--The plan to enter the
     fort--Appearance of yaks--A band of brigands--Erecting
     fortifications--Changes in the temperature--Soldiers in search of us
     Pp. 198-201

XXXVI
     "Terror Camp"--Two more messengers leave camp--A tribe of Dogpas--A
     strange sahib--Our messengers return from Taklakot--The account and
     adventures of their mission--In great distress--Two fakirs who
     suffered through me--Five hundred rupees offered for my head--The
     Shokas want to abandon me--A plot--How it failed Pp. 202-206

XXXVII
     A Tibetan guard's encampment--Nattoo volunteers to be a
     guide--Treachery and punishment of the Shokas--All ways forward
     barred to me--Evading the soldiers by another perilous march at
     night--Mansing again lost--A marvellous phenomenon--Sufferings of my
     men--Severe cold Pp. 207-210

XXXVIII
     Night marching--The Lafan and Mafan Lakes--Tize, the sacred
     Kelas--Rhubarb--Butterflies--A hermit Lama--More Dacoits--Surrounded
     by them--Routed Pp. 211-216

XXXIX
     Spied and followed by robbers--Jogpas' hospitality--Hares--Tibetan
     charms resisted--Attempt to snatch Chanden Sing's rifle out of his
     hands--The ridge between the Rakas and Mansarowar Lakes Pp. 217-219

XL
     More robbers--The friends of Tibetan authorities--A snap-shot--A
     meek lot--Prepossessing female and her curious ways--The purchase of
     two yaks Pp. 220-224

XLI
     Tibetan coats, hats, and boots--Why a Tibetan prefers to leave half
     the chest and one arm bare--Ornamentations--Manner and
     speech--Ignorance and superstition--Way of eating--Jogpa women and
     children--Head-dress Pp. 225-230

XLII
     A Daku's strange ideas--The ridge between the two lakes--Black
     tents--Confronting the two lakes--A chain of high
     peaks--Gombas--Change in the weather Pp. 231-234

XLIII
     The Langa Tsangpo--A terrific storm--Drenched to the skin--Heavy
     marching--Against the gods--Difficulty in finding the Lamasery and
     village--A bark!--Arrival at last--Gentle tapping--Under a roof Pp.
     235-238

XLIV
     The interior of a _serai_--Vermin--Fish, local jewellery, and
     pottery for sale--Favourite shapes and patterns--How pottery is made
     Pp. 239-241

XLV
     Friendly Lamas--Chanden Sing and Mansing purified--Mansing's
     sarcasm--Pilgrims to Mansarowar and their privileges--For
     luck!--Outside the Gomba Pp. 242-244

XLVI
     Entering the Lamasery--The Lama's dwelling--Novices--Were we in a
     trap?--Images--Oblations--Urghin--The holy water, the veil of
     friendship, and absolution--Musical instruments, books, &c.--God and
     the Trinity--Heaven and hell--A mystery Pp. 245-248

XLVII
     The Jong Pen's statements regarding me--Sects of
     Lamas--Lamaseries--Government allowance--Ignorance of the
     crowds--How Lamas are recruited--Lamas, novices, and menials--Dances
     and hypnotism--Infallibility--Celibacy and
     vice--Sculptors--Prayer-wheels and revolving
     instruments--Nunneries--Human bones for eating vessels and musical
     instruments--Blood-drinking Pp. 249-256

XLVIII
     Illnesses and remedies--Curious theories about fever--Evil
     spirits--Blacksmith and dentist--Exorcisms--Surgical
     operations--Massage and cupping--Incurable
     illnesses--Deformities--Deafness--Fits and
     insanity--Melancholia--Suicides Pp. 257-264

XLIX
     A Tibetan medicine-man--Lumbago, and a startling cure for
     it--Combustible fuses--Fire and butter--Prayers, agony and
     distortions--Strange ideas on medicine Pp. 265-267

L
     Tucker village--Chokdens--Houses--Flying prayers--Soldiers or
     robbers?--A stampede--Fresh
     provisions--Disappointment--Treachery--Shokas leave
     me--Observations--Five men, all counted! Pp. 268-270

LI
     The start with a further reduced party--A reconnaissance--Natural
     fortress--Black tents and animals--On the wrong tack--Slings and
     their use--A visit to a Tibetan camp--Mistaken for
     brigands--Bargaining and begging Pp. 271-275

LII
     What the men were like--Their timidity--Leather work--Metal
     work--Blades and swords--Filigree--Saddles and harness--Pack saddles
     Pp. 276-279

LIII
     Rain in torrents--A miserable night--A gorge--A gigantic
     inscription--Sheltered under boulders--A fresh surprise--Only two
     followers left Pp. 280-282

LIV
     My time fully occupied--Our own yak drivers--A heavy blow--Along the
     stream--Soldiers in pursuit of us--Discovered Pp. 283-286

LV
     An interview--Peace or war?--Gifts and the scarf of friendship--The
     _Kata_--The end of a friendly visit Pp. 287-289

LVI
     Rain in torrents--A swampy plain--The sun at last--Our yaks stolen
     and recovered Pp. 290-294

LVII
     Travelling Tibetans--Over a high pass--A friendly meeting--A
     proffered banquet--Ascent to 20,000 feet--Looking for the Gunkyo
     Lake--Surprised by a phantom army Pp. 295-297

LVIII
     A sleepless night--Watching our enemy--A picturesque sight--A
     messenger--Soldiers from Lhassa--Taken for a Kashmeree--The Gunkyo
     Lake Pp. 298-301

LIX
     In pleasant company--Unpopularity of the Lamas--Soldiers--Towards
     the Maium Pass--Grass--Threats--Puzzled Tibetans--The Maium
     Pass--Obos Pp. 302-305

LX
     The Maium Pass--Into the Yutzang province--Its capital--The Doktol
     province--Orders disregarded--The sources of the Brahmaputra--Change
     in the climate--The valley of the Brahmaputra--Running risks Pp.
     306-308

LXI
     Expecting trouble--Along the Brahmaputra--A thunderstorm--A
     dilemma--A dangerous river--Swamped--Saved--Night disturbers--A new
     friend Pp. 309-312

LXII
     Leaving the course of the river--A pass--An arid plain--More
     vanishing soldiers--Another river--A _mani_ wall--_Mirage?_--A large
     Tibetan encampment--The chain of mountains north of us Pp. 313-315

LXIII
     A commotion--An invitation declined--The tents--Delicacies--The
     _Chokseh_ Pp. 316-320

LXIV
     Refusal to sell food--Women--Their looks and characteristics--The
     _Tchukti_--A Lhassa lady Pp. 321-326

LXV
     Polyandry--Marriage ceremonies--Jealousy--Divorce--Identification of
     children--Courtship--Illegitimacy--Adultery Pp. 327-333

LXVI
     Tibetan funerals--Disposal of their dead--By cremation--By
     water--Cannibalism--Strange beliefs--Revolting barbarity--Drinking
     human blood--The saints of Tibet Pp. 334-337

LXVII
     Another commotion--Two hundred soldiers--A stampede--Easy
     travelling--A long _mani_ wall--Mosquitoes Pp. 338-341

LXVIII
     Washing-day--A long march--_Kiang_ and antelope--Benighted--The
     purchase of a goat--Ramifications of the Brahmaputra--A
     détour--Through a swamp--Mansing again lost and found Pp. 342-345

LXIX
     The alarm given--Our bad manners--A peaceful settlement--A large
     river--Gigantic peak--Again on marshy soil Pp. 346-348

LXX
     Another Tibetan encampment--Uncontrollable animals--A big
     stream--Washed away--In dreadful suspense--Rescuing the yak--Diving
     at great altitudes and its effects--How my two followers got
     across--A precarious outlook and a little comfort Pp. 349-351

LXXI
     Hungry and worn--A sense of humour--Two buckets of milk--No food to
     be obtained--Chanden Sing and Mansing in a wretched state--Their
     fidelity--Exhaustion Pp. 352-354

LXXII
     Eighty black tents--Starved--Kindly natives--Presents--Ando and his
     promises--A Friendly Lama--A low pass--My plans Pp. 355-357

LXXIII
     Strange noises--Ando the traitor--Purchasing provisions and
     ponies--A handsome pony--Decoyed away from my tent and
     rifles--Pounced upon--The fight--A prisoner Pp. 358-361

LXXIV
     Chanden Sing's plucky resistance--Mansing secured--A signal--A
     treacherous Lama--Confiscation of baggage--Watches, compasses and
     aneroids--Fear and avidity--The air-cushion--Dragged into the
     encampment Pp. 362-366

LXXV
     A warning to my men--Calm and coolness--The Pombo's tent--Chanden
     Sing cross-examined and flogged Pp. 367-369

LXXVI
     Led before the tribunal--The Pombo--Classical Tibetan beyond
     me--Chanden Sing lashed--The Lamas puzzled--A sudden change in the
     Pombo's attitude Pp. 370-373

LXXVII
     My note-books and maps--What the Lamas wanted me to say--My
     refusal--Anger and threats--Ando the traitor--Chanden Sing's
     heroism--A scene of cruelty--Rain Pp. 374-376

LXXVIII
     A high military officer--A likely friend--A soldier and not a
     Lama--His sympathy--Facts about the Tibetan army Pp. 377-379

LXXIX
     Sarcasm appreciated--Kindness--A change for the worse--The place for
     an Englishman--Vermin--A Tibetan prayer Pp. 380-382

LXXX
     The Rupun as a friend--Treated with respect and deference--Fed by
     the Rupun and soldiers--Improving my knowledge of Tibetan Pp.
     383-385

LXXXI
     A bearer of bad news--Marched off to the mud-house--Mansing--Insults
     and humiliations--Iron handcuffs instead of ropes--The Rupun's
     sympathy--No more hope--In the hands of the mob Pp. 386-389

LXXXII
     A pitiful scene--A struggle to get to Chanden Sing--Brutally
     treated--A torturing saddle--Across country at a gallop--A spirited
     pony--Sand deposits and hills--Speculation--More horsemen coming
     towards us Pp. 390-392

LXXXIII
     At an unpleasant pace--Drawing near the cavalcade--A picturesque
     sight--A shot fired at me--Terrible effects of the spikes along my
     spine--The rope breaks--An ill omen--A second shot misses
     me--Arrows--The end of my terrible ride Pp. 393-397

LXXXIV
     Intense pain--Hustled to the execution-ground--Stretched and
     tied--Thirsting for blood--A parade of torturing appliances--The
     music--The _Taram_ Pp. 398-401

LXXXV
     Bleeding all over--Insulted and spat upon--"Kill him!"--Urging on
     the executioner--Refusal to stoop--An unpleasant sword exercise--The
     execution suspended Pp. 402-405

LXXXVI
     Mansing arrives--A pretence of killing him--Our execution
     postponed--Fed by the Lamas Pp. 406-407

LXXXVII
     Happiness checked--Stretched on the rack--Mansing shares my
     fate--Drenched and in rags--An unsolved mystery Pp. 408-410

LXXXVIII
     Mansing partially untied after twelve hours on the rack--Numbed--How
     the brain works under such circumstances--My scientific
     instruments--The end of my photographic plates--A paint-box accused
     of occult powers--An offer refused--Courtesy and cruelty combined
     Pp. 411-412

LXXXIX
     An unknown article in Tibet--My sponge bewitched--A Lama fires my
     Martini-Henry--The rifle bursts Pp. 413-415

XC
     A consultation--Untied from the rack--The most terrible twenty-four
     hours of my life--I lose the use of my feet--Circulation
     returning--Intense pain--Sports Pp. 416-417

XCI
     A great relief--The Pombo's attentions--A weird hypnotic dance Pp.
     418-420

XCII
     Compliments exchanged--A poisoned drink proffered--In acute
     pain--Uncertainty as to our fate--Working the oracle--My webbed
     fingers Pp. 421-423

XCIII
     Our lives to be spared--An unpleasant march--Chanden Sing still
     alive--A sleepless night--Towards the frontier--Long and painful
     marches--How we slept at night--A map drawn with blood Pp. 424-428

XCIV
     South of the outward journey--Severity of our guard--Ventriloquism
     and its effects--Terrible but instructive days--The Southern source
     of the Brahmaputra--Leaving Yutzang Pp. 429-430

XCV
     Easier times--Large encampments--Suffocating a goat--A Tarjum's
     encampment--Tokchim--Old friends--Musicians--Charity Pp. 431-434

XCVI
     Towards Mansarowar--Mansing's vision--Bathing in Mansarowar Pp.
     435-437

XCVII
     Suna--Wilson and the Political Peshkar across the frontier--A
     messenger--Our progress stopped--Diverting us over the Lumpiya
     Pass--Condemned to certain death--We attack our guard--Lapsang and
     the Jong Pen's private secretary--A document--Nearing
     Kardam--Retracing our steps--Dogmar Pp. 438-444

XCVIII
     A Commotion--The arrival of an army--Elected General-in-chief--How
     we were to slaughter the Jong Pen's soldiers--My men lay down their
     arms--Towards Taklakot--Delaling and Sibling--Taklakot at last Pp.
     445-449

XCIX
     Free at last--Among friends--Forgetting our past
     troubles--Confiscated baggage returned--A scene with Nerba--Suna's
     message delivered--How our release was brought about--Across the
     frontier--Photography at Gungi Pp. 450-456

C
     Civilisation once more--Paralysis--The Tinker Pass in Nepal--Kindly
     natives--Mr. Larkin--Government Inquiry--Back to Tibet--Final
     good-bye to the Forbidden Land--The return journey--Farewell to
     Mansing--Home again Pp. 457-470

APPENDIX Pp. 471-501

INDEX Pp. 503-508

HEINEMANN PUBLICATIONS AND ANNOUNCEMENTS




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

A. Henry Savage Landor and his Two Faithful Servants  Frontispiece
A Chinese Passport  1
My Faithful Companion  7
My Start from Naini Tal  9
Castle at Pithoragarh  12
Lepers  13
My Abode at Askote  14
A Young Man  17
Raot on Tree  18
Raots  19
Head of Young Man  21
Two Men with Children sitting down  22
A Young Man  24
Raot Women of the Forest  26
The Rajiwar of Askote, his Brother and Son  27
Fakir Returning from Mansarowar  28
The Rajiwar and his Brother in Dandies  32
View of the Himahlyas--showing Nanda Devi and Trisul Peaks  35
Darma Shokas and Tibetans  36
View of the Himahlyas. Showing Nanda Devi and Trisul Peaks  37
Shoka Weavers  42
Shrine and Flying Prayers  46
Wrinkled Shoka  48
Lal Sing Tokudar and his Brother  49
House of a Wealthy Shoka  51
The Tent  55
Nerpani Road  57
The Nerpani Road  58
The Nerpani Track  59
The Nerpani Road  59
The Chai-Lek (Pass)  60
A Narrow Gorge between Two Mountains  61
The Gates of Garbyang  64
Matan Sing Chaprassi  66
Narenghiri Chaprassi  66
Garbyang  67
The House where I Stayed at Garbyang  69
Shoka House with Strange Ladder  71
Shoka Houses  72
Shoka Child Smeared with Butter which is Left to be Absorbed in the Sun  73
Shoka Child being Smeared with Butter  75
The Master of a High School, Altitude 10,940 Feet  76
Gungi Shankom  77
Zazzela Mount, near Gungi  78
Involuntary Tobogganing  79
Chiram  80
Kuti  82
Snow Bridges over the Kuti River  83
Old Shoka Woman Smoking  84
A Well-attended School  87
My Banker and Agent  88
The Valley of Garbyang  89
Chanden Sing and the Daku Rolling up my Bedding  91
Motema, a Shoka Beauty  92
On the Way to the Rambang  93
Shoka Earrings  94
Silver Earrings of Tibetan Origin with Coral Beads  95
Shoka Woman Weaving  96
Rambang Girls with Ornaments  97
Weeping Women under White Cloth  99
Shoka Funeral Pile  100
Women Dusting and Caressing the Lay Figure  101
Women Dancing Round the Lay Figure  102
Dance in Front of Deceased Man's House  103
The Goat with Soul of Deceased being Fed  104
Goat with Soul and Clothes of Deceased  105
Sending the Goat away from the Village  106
Martial Dance round Lay Figure  107
Tearing out the Heart of the Goat  108
Yak driven over Precipice  109
Kachi and his Relations  111
The Patan Summoning my Coolies from the Roof of his House  112
The Chongur Bridge Previous to being Destroyed  114
A Perilous Passage  117
The Photograph that Caused the Child's Death  121
Plan of Kuti Castle  123
The Kuti Castle  125
Mansing the Leper showing his Hands  126
The Jolinkan or Lebung Pass  128
Camping in Snow  133
The Snow-Line at 16,000 Feet  135
The Mangshan Glacier  139
The Spectre and Circular Rainbow  145
"I Roused the Rongba"  146
Ascending the Lumpiya Pass  149
The Lumpiya Glacier and Pass  151
Spied  155
My Men Salaaming Kelas at Lama Chokden  159
The Arrival of Reinforcements  169
The Barca Tarjum and his Officers  171
"At Night I led my men up the mountain in a fierce snowstorm"  183
Buried in Snow  189
Sheep Carrying Load  193
Dacoits with a Booty of Sheep  195
Behind our Bulwarks  199
Our First View of Rakastal  212
Rakastal and Mansarowar Lakes  214
A Dacoit  219
The Bandits laid down their Arms  221
Pack-saddles for Yaks  223
White Woollen Coat and Sashes  226
Woollen Socks  226
Man's Boot, Made at Sigatz; Snow Boot  227
Woman's Boot; Boot Made in Lhassa  227
Hat, as Worn by Officials  228
A Black Yak  232
A Tibetan Fortune Teller  234
My Two Yaks  237
Silver Lhassa Coins  239
Copper Coins; Earring Worn by Men  240
Silver Charm  240
Gold and Malachite Brooch  240
Mansarowar Pottery  241
Entrance to the Tucker Temple  246
Tucker Village and Gomba  251
Stone with Inscription  254
Prayer-wheels--Ancient and Modern.
    Showing Rolls of Prayers to Go Inside  255
Stone with Inscription  256
Branch with Thorns to Prevent Return of Evil Spirits  260
The Tokchim Tarjum  264
A Medicine-man  267
The Panku Gomba  269
Sling  272
A Natural Castle  273
Woman carrying Child in Basket  274
Tibetan Young Man  277
Swords  278
Saddle  279
Camp with Gigantic Inscription  281
Yak with Cases of Scientific Instruments  284
With only Two Men I proceeded towards Lhassa  285
A Kala  288
Torrential Rain  291
Head of Brigand  292
Brigands with Sheep  293
Saddle Bags  294
Phantom-like Visitors  296
The Gunkyo Lake  299
"I am only a Messenger"  300
Flying Prayers on the Maium Pass  303
Matchlocks  304
Source of the Brahmaputra  307
Tibetan Dog  310
Small Mani Wall  311
An Effect of Mirage  314
Black Tent  317
A Dongbo, or Tea Churn  318
The Interior of a Tent  319
Tsamgo  320
Small Tsamba Bag, carried on the Person by Tibetans  320
Tibetan Hair-brushes and Flint-and-steel Pouch  322
Tibetan Women and Children  323
The Tchukti  324
A Lady from Lhassa  325
Money Bags  326
Woman whose Face is Smeared with Black Ointment  328
Tibetan Woman  329
The Lady in Question  330
Tibetan Children  331
A Young Lama  334
A Red Lama  335
Cup made of a Human Skull  336
Chokden, or Tomb of a Saint  336
A Mani Wall on the Road to Lhassa  339
"And I give you this to make you go back"  340
Kiang  343
Our Yaks Sinking in Mud  344
Carpenter and Saddle-maker  347
Old Woman  348
Contrivance for Carrying Loads  349
Rescuing a Yak  350
Drinking out of a Bucket  353
Shrine inside Tent  354
Mud Guard-house  356
Tibetan Bellows  357
A Distaff  358
Purchasing Ponies  359
I was a Prisoner  360
Rope Riding-whip  361
Earring worn by High Officials  362
Dragged into the Settlement  363
A Spear  364
Tibetans overhauling our Baggage  365
The Pombo's Tent  368
Chanden Sing being Lashed  371
The Pombo  372
A Soldier  374
Soldier with Pigtail wound round his Head  375
An Officer  376
Purse; Flint and Steel; Snuff-box  377
Flint-and-steel Pouch  378
Leather Horse-whip  379
Charm-box  380
Pukus, or Wooden Cups  383
Soldier laying before me the Programme of Tortures  387
Handcuffs  388
Padlock and Key  389
"Sir, sir, I am dying"  391
Spiked Saddle  392
Nerba Firing at Me  394
The Ride on a Spiked Saddle  395
Coat I Wore at the Time of My Capture, Showing Effect of Spikes  396
A Display of Various Instruments of Torture  398
Lama Musicians  399
The Hot Iron Torture  399
The Taram  400
A Bannerman  403
The Executioner Brought the Sword Down to My Neck  404
Thus Elapsed Twenty-four terrible Hours  409
Belt, with Bullet and Powder Pouches, Dagger, Needle-case,
    and Flint and Steel  414
Martini-Henry Exploded  415
The Pombo's Contortions  419
The Finale of the Dance  420
Chanden Sing tied to a Post  425
A White Yak  426
Map Drawn with Blood during Captivity  427
One of Our Guard  430
Soldier Suffocating Goat  432
Strolling Musicians  433
Old Beggar  434
A Tibetan Shepherd  436
Interior of a Serai  437
Tea Churn (open)  438
A Bearer of Bad News  439
A Shoka Tibetan Half-caste  440
Sheep Loads for Borax and Grain  441
A Jumli Shed  442
We Attacked our Guard with Stones  443
Lapsang and the Jong Pen's Private Secretary  444
Jumli Trader and His Wife in Tibet  446
Cliff Habitations  447
Chokdens near Taklakot  448
Taklakot Fort  449
Pundit Gobaria  450
Dr. Wilson  451
Karak Sing Pal, the Political Peshkar  452
Mansing Showing Cuts under his Feet  453
A Glance at the Forbidden Land from the Lippu Pass  454
The Author, February and October  455
Chanden Sing's Legs, Showing Marks of Lashes and Wounds Healed  456
Mr. J. Larkin  457
Chanden Sing and Mansing enjoying their first Meal according
    to the Rules of their Castes  458
A Tibetan Temporary Shed  459
A Shaky Passage on the Nerpani Road  460
View of Askote, Showing Rajiwar's Palace  461
Snapshot of Shoka Villagers being Routed  461
Dr. Wilson, Myself, Mr. Larkin, the Political Peshkar,
    and Jagat Sing ready to ascend the Lippu Pass  462
Tinker in Nepal  463
On the Lippu Pass  464
Mr. Larkin's Party and Mine Halting near the Lippu Pass  465
Mr. Larkin looking out for the Jong Pen from the Lippu Pass  466
Bathing at 16,300 Feet  467
Dharchula. Deserted Habitations of Shokas  467
"I told you," exclaimed the old savage, "that whoever visits
    the home of the Raots will have misfortune"  468
A Picturesque Bit of Almora  469
Raots Listening to the Account of My Misfortunes  470
Map of South-Western Tibet, showing Author's Route and Return, Journey  470




CHAPTER I

     FROM LONDON TO NAINI TAL


[Illustration: A CHINESE PASSPORT]

ON leaving London, I intended to proceed _viâ_ Germany to Russia,
traverse Russian Turkestan, Bokhara and Chinese Turkestan, and from there
enter Tibet. The Russian Government had readily granted me a special
permission to take free of duty through their territory my firearms,
ammunition, provisions, photographic cameras, surveying and other
scientific instruments, and moreover informed me, through H.E. Sir
Nicholas O'Conor, then our Ambassador in St. Petersburg, that I should be
privileged to travel on the military railway through Turkestan, as far as
the terminus at Samarakand. I feel under a great obligation to the
Russian Embassy in London for the extreme courtesy shown me, and I desire
to acknowledge this at the outset, especially because that route might
very likely have saved me much of the suffering and disappointment I was
subjected to through going by way of India.

I was provided with introductions and credentials from the Marquis of
Salisbury, the British Museum of Natural History, etc., I was carrying
scientific instruments for the Royal Geographical Society, and I had a
British and two Chinese passports.

Having forwarded all my explosives by an ammunition vessel to Russia (the
German railways absolutely refusing to carry cartridges), I heard to my
dismay, only a few days previous to leaving London, that the steamer had
stranded just before reaching her port of destination, and that grave
doubts were entertained as to the possibility of saving even a portion of
her cargo. This was at the time of the outbreak of the Turco-Greek War,
and the Russians were reported to be mobilising their troops along the
Afghan frontier. I did not wish to delay my journey, and although my
preparations were complete for going through Russia, I nevertheless
decided to abandon that plan and go to India, with a view to penetrating
over the Himahlya into Tibet. I sailed for India on March 19, on the P.
and O. ss. _Peninsular_, and reached Bombay three weeks later.

It was my first visit to India, and my first impression was certainly not
a good one. The heat was intense, and signs of the plague were
discernible everywhere. The streets were deserted and the hotels bad and
dirty for want of servants, who had abandoned the town in fear of the
scourge.

Accompanied by a Parsee friend, I went to several of the districts of
Bombay chiefly affected by the disease, but I noticed, wherever I went,
little else than a strong odour of disinfectants. It is true there were
few houses in those parts which had not ten, twenty, and even more
circular red marks, denoting as many deaths, and on one door, which I
photographed, I counted no less than forty-nine circles. But I was unable
to gauge personally with any sort of accuracy the nature or extent of the
disease, beyond seeing in the hospitals a few violent cases of bubonic
attacks.

On the day following my arrival in Bombay, I proceeded by rail to
Bareilly, which was reached in three days, and from there one more night
brought me to Kathgodam, the terminus of the railway line. Travelling
partly by Tonga (a two-wheeled vehicle drawn by two horses) and partly on
horseback, I found myself at last at Naini Tal, a hill station in the
lower Himahlyas and the summer seat of the Government of the North-West
Provinces and Oudh, from whence I wrote to the Lieutenant-Governor,
informing him of my intention to proceed to Tibet. I also called on the
Deputy-Commissioner and made him fully acquainted with my plans. Neither
one nor the other of these gentlemen raised the slightest objection to my
intended journey into the sacred Land of the Lamas.




CHAPTER II

     Loads--A set of useful pack-saddle cases--Provisions and
     scientific outfit--Clothes and shoes--Medicines--Under way--The
     first march--Servants--How I came to employ faithful Chanden
     Sing.


I KNEW that from Naini Tal, 6407 feet (sixty feet above lake level), all
my loads would have to be transported on the backs of coolies, and
therefore they had to be divided into equal weights not exceeding
twenty-five seers, or fifty pounds. I packed instruments, negatives, and
articles liable to get damaged, in cases of my own make designed
especially for rough usage. A set of four such cases, of well-seasoned
deal wood, carefully joined and fitted, zinc-lined, and soaked in a
special preparation of mine by which they were rendered water and air
tight, could be made useful in many ways. Taken separately, they could be
used as seats; four placed in a row answered the purpose of bedstead;
three could be used as seat and table; and the combination of four used
in a certain manner made a punt or boat of quick, solid, and easy
construction, by which an unfordable river could be crossed or soundings
taken in the still waters of a lake. The cases could also be used as
baths for myself and my followers (if I could induce these to so far
indulge), and also in the developing of my negatives as tanks to properly
wash my plates. I conjectured even that in case of emergency they might
serve as water casks in arid regions, if I should have to traverse any.
One of these boxes packed was exactly a coolie load, and two could be
easily slung over a pack-saddle by means of straps and rings. It was due
mainly to the stoutness and strength of these cases that, notwithstanding
the amount of knocking about they got, my photographic and painting work,
as well as my maps, instruments, etc., were really in no way injured
until we fell into the hands of the Tibetans. Fortunately, the most
important part of my work, from a scientific point of view, had already
been accomplished. My provisions were prepared for me by the Bovril
Company after instructions furnished by me, with a view to the severe
Tibetan climate and the altitudes we should find ourselves in. They
contained a vast amount of fat and carbonaceous food, as well as
ingredients easily digestible and calculated to maintain one's strength
even in moments of unusual stress. I had them packed in tin cases and
skin bags. I carried in a water-tight box 1000 cartridges for my 256°
Mannlicher rifle, besides 500 cartridges for my revolver, and a number of
hunting knives, skinning implements, wire traps of several sizes for
capturing small mammals, butterfly nets, bottles for preserving reptiles
in alcohol, insect-killing bottles (cyanide of potassium), a quantity of
arsenical soap, bone nippers, scalpels, and all other accessories
necessary for the collection of natural history specimens. There were
three sets of photographic apparatus in my outfit, and one hundred and
fifty-eight dozen dry plates, as well as all adjuncts for the developing,
fixing, etc. of the negatives as they were taken. The collecting
materials were given me by the British Museum of Natural History, to
which institution I had promised to present all specimens of fauna and
flora I might collect during my journey. I had two sets of instruments
for astronomical observation and for use in surveying (one of which had
been furnished me by the Royal Geographical Society), such as the
six-inch sextant, hypsometrical apparatus for measuring heights, with
boiling-point thermometers specially constructed for very great
altitudes; two aneroids, one to 20,000 feet, the other to 25,000 feet;
three artificial horizons (one mercury, the others plate-glass with
levels); a powerful telescope with astronomical eyepiece and stand; a
prismatic, a luminous, a floating, and two pocket compasses; maximum and
minimum thermometers, a case of drawing instruments, protractors,
parallel rules, tape rules, a silver water-tight half-chronometer watch
and three other watches, section paper in books and in large sheets,
Raper's and the Nautical Almanac for 1897 and 1898.

Not to neglect the artistic aspect of my expedition, I had provided
myself with ample painting and drawing materials, and I trust to the
appearance of my sketches in these volumes to prove that I did not carry
them in vain.

I was provided with a very light mountain _tente-d'abri_ seven feet long,
four feet wide, and three feet high. Well accustomed to the sort of
travelling I was in for, I decided that I required for myself only a
camel-hair blanket in the way of bedding. I reduced my clothing also to a
minimum and made no difference in it from start to finish. The only thing
I ever missed was my straw hat, which I wore up in the Himahlyas just as
I had worn it in the broiling plains, because it seemed to me always the
most comfortable headgear. It was rendered unwearable through the
clumsiness of one of my Shokas to whom I had lent it to carry in it some
swan eggs (presented by a friendly Shoka), and who fell with it, or on
it, to the detriment and destruction both of vessel and load. After that
I generally went about with my head uncovered, as I only had a small cap
left, which was not comfortable. I wore medium thick shoes without nails,
and never carried a stick, and I think it was due largely to the
simplicity of my personal equipment that I was able, as will be seen
presently, to climb to one of the greatest altitudes ever reached by a
human being.[1]

My provision of medicines cost me only half-a-crown, firm as I am in the
belief that man, living naturally under natural conditions, and giving
himself plenty of exercise, can be helped very little by drugs.

And thus I started.

On the first day I rode from Naini Tal to Almora, thirty miles by the
lower and well-known road _viâ_ Khairna.

Almora (5510 feet) is the last hill station towards the frontier where I
expected to find a European, or rather an Anglo-Indian, community, and I
made it my headquarters for a few days. It was my intention to obtain
some reliable hill men, possibly Gourkhas, to accompany me. I applied in
vain for this purpose to the Lieut.-Colonel of the 1st 3rd Gourkha
Regiment quartered in the station, duly showing letters, introductions,
and documents from the highest authorities and institutions in England,
plainly demonstrating the scientific object of my journey to Tibet.

The superior authorities seemed open to negotiations had I been able to
afford a wait of several months; but, as this would have involved the
postponement of my journey for a year on account of the passes leading
into Tibet becoming impassable at the end of the summer, I decided to
snap my fingers at all the red tape the job required, and to start on my
journey without the Gourkhas.

As luck would have it, I came across a gentleman at Almora, a Mr. J.
Larkin, who showed me great politeness and gave me much useful
information with regard to the roads, the mode of travelling, etc. on the
British side of the Tibetan frontier. He had himself travelled nearly up
to the boundary the previous year, and knew that part of Kumaon better
than any Anglo-Indian in the province. In fact, with the exception of
Colonel Grigg, Commissioner of Kumaon, Mr. Larkin is the only other
official who has any knowledge at all of the north-east of Kumaon, now so
neglected by the Government of the N.W.P.

[Illustration: MY FAITHFUL COMPANION]

Gourkhas being unobtainable, the question weighed heavily on my mind of
obtaining plucky, honest, wiry, healthy servants, of whatever caste they
might be, who would be ready for the sake of a good salary and a handsome
reward to brave the many discomforts, hardships, and perils my expedition
was likely to involve. Both at Naini Tal and here scores of servants and
Shikaris (sporting attendants) offered themselves. They one and all
produced "certificates" of good conduct, irreproachable honesty,
good-nature and willingness to work, and praises unbounded of all
possible virtues that a servant could possess. Each certificate was duly
ornamented with the signature of a General, a Captain, a Lieut.-Governor,
or some other considerable personage, but each bearer of such testimonial
seemed sadly neglected by those who had been so enthusiastically pleased
with his services, for he invariably commenced by asking for a loan of
several rupees to purchase boots and blankets, and to enable him to
support a wife with or without a family whom he would be leaving behind.

I decided that my means did not permit of my supporting "the dear ones at
home" of the two or three dozen followers I should require, and I made up
my mind to wait and see whether I could not find men to suit me farther
on my road without involving myself in the liability of supporting the
entire population I left behind me. I made only one exception. I was
sitting one fine day in my room at the Dâk Bungalow (post resting-house)
when an odd creature entered and offered his services, salaaming me.

"Where are your certificates?" I asked.

"_Sahib, hum 'certificates' ne hai!_" ("Sir, I have no certificates.")

"Well, then I may employ you."

I had previously had a good look at the fellow. His facial lines showed
considerably more character and force than I had noticed in the features
of other local natives. His attire was peculiar. He wore a white turban,
and from under a short velvet waistcoat there protruded a gaudy flannel
shirt in yellow and black stripes, which he wore oddly outside of his
pyjamas instead of in them. He had no shoes, and carried in his right
hand an old cricket stump, with which he "presented arms," as it were,
every time that I came in and went out of the room. I at once decided to
try him. It was about nine o'clock in the morning, when I, having many
people to see, handed Chanden Sing, for that was his name, a pair of
shoes and some blacking.

"Mind I find them clean when I return."

"_Acha, Sahib_." ("All right, sir!")

"You will find some brushes in my room."

"_Bahut acha, Sahib_." ("Very good, sir!")

I left. At six p.m. when I returned to my quarters I found Chanden Sing
still polishing my footgear with all his might. He had been at it the
whole day and had used for the purpose my best hair and clothes brushes.

"Oh, you _budmash! crab log, pagal!_" ("Oh! you bad character! bad man,
fool!") I exclaimed, disgusted, making as much display as possible of the
only three or four words I then knew of Hindustani. I snatched the
blackened articles of toilet out of his hands, while he, with an air of
wounded feelings, pointed out the wonderful results he had achieved.

[Illustration: MY START FROM NAINI TAL]

It was clear that Chanden Sing was not much of a valet, neither was he a
master at opening soda-water bottles. He generally managed to give you a
spray bath if he did not actually shoot the flying cork in your face. It
was owing to one (by no means the first) of these accidents that Chanden
Sing, having hit me full, was a few days later flung bodily out of the
front door. I am very adverse to the habit of punishing the natives
injudiciously and unjustly, but I believe that firm if not too severe a
punishment administered in time is absolutely necessary with native
servants, and generally saves much trouble and unpleasantness in the end.
Anyhow Chanden Sing, none the worse, returned the next day to fetch his
cricket stump which he had forgotten in his hurried and involuntary
departure. He seized this opportunity to offer his humblest apologies for
his clumsiness, and produced the following letter which he had got
written in English by a Babu in the Bazaar:

     "DEAR SIR,--I am a stupid man, but I hear you intend to take two
     Gourkha soldiers with you to Tibet. I am a good and very _stout_
     man and therefore far superior to any Gourkha. Please employ me.

     "Your faithful servant,

     "CHANDEN SING."

This was touching, and I forgave him and allowed him to stay. He improved
as time went on, and after a while became quite tolerable. One morning
Mr. Larkin called when Chanden Sing happened to be about.

"Who is that?" said Larkin.

"That is my bearer."

"But he is not a bearer! He was once a policeman, and a smart fellow too.
He worked out a good case in his own village and had many people arrested
and convicted for theft. As a reward they sacked him."

"I am thinking of taking him with me."

"He is a good lad," replied Mr. Larkin. "You can anyhow take him as far
as the frontier, but I would not advise you to take him into Tibet."

Mr. Larkin counselled Chanden Sing to be diligent and attentive, and the
ex-policeman beamed all over with joy when I told him definitely that he
might accompany me to Bhot. He turned out to be the one plucky man among
all my followers, and he stood by me through thick and thin.


[1] See Appendix. Letter by Dr. H. Wilson.




CHAPTER III

     Pithoragarh--Fakir women--A well-ventilated abode--Askote--The
     Rajiwar and his people.


THE country up to Bhot is comparatively well-known, therefore I will not
dwell at length on the first portion of my journey.

On May 9 all my baggage, accompanied by two _Chaprassis_, left on its way
to the frontier, and I followed on the next day. Two days' marching, at
the rate of twenty-five miles a day, brought me to Shor, otherwise called
Pithoragarh.

The road is good all the way, running through thick forests of pine and
fir trees, and you get here and there pretty views of wooded mountain
ranges. Nevertheless, it is tiring owing to the many ascents and
descents, as will be seen from the following figures showing the
principal elevations. From 5510 feet we climbed to 7650 feet, descended
to 2475 feet, climbed again up to 6020 feet at Gangoli Hat, and
re-descended by a steep incline to 2500 feet. The intense heat prevented
me from walking at my usual pace, and I did not, therefore, reach my
destination before sundown. Walking on in the dark, we saw the distant
flickering forest fires crawling here and there like incandescent snakes
along or up the mountain-side: these are caused by the igniting of the
grass, shrubs, and undergrowth by the natives, the flames not
unfrequently spreading and playing havoc among the finest trees of the
forest.

At Pithoragarh (6650 feet) there is the old London Gourkha fort to be
seen, on a hilltop, also a well-kept leper hospital, a school, and a
mission-house. The soil is fertile and there are many stretches of
well-cultivated land dotted with habitations. Water is plentiful, and
though the scenery certainly lacks trees except in the immediate
neighbourhood of the villages and houses, it has, nevertheless, a
certain picturesqueness on account of its background of wooded mountains.
I started from Pithoragarh at 6.30 A.M.; leaving the road to Tal on the
left, I followed the track at a medium elevation of 6250 feet, arriving
at Shadgora (6350 feet) just in time to witness the blessing of a calf by
a Brahmin. Inside a diminutive shrine--into the door of which I was
curious enough to peep--I discovered two skinny, repulsive old women,
with sunken, discoloured eyes, untidy locks of scanty hair, long
unwashed, bony arms and legs, and finger and toe nails of abnormal
length. They were clad in a few dirty rags, and were busily attending to
the lights burning on several primitive stone candlesticks along the
walls of the shrine. There were also some curiously-shaped stones
standing upright among the candlesticks. The ceiling of this place of
worship was not high enough to allow the women to stand, and they were
compelled to crawl about inside on all fours. When they saw me they
stretched out their angular arms towards me, begging for money. I gave
them a silver coin, which they shoved under one of the peculiar stones,
and then, turning round, immediately made violent gestures suggesting to
me that I was to depart.

[Illustration: CASTLE AT PITHORAGARH]

Farther on I came upon a point where three roads branched off to Deolthal
(six miles) on the left, to Askote (twelve and three-quarter miles) in
the centre, and to Pithoragarh (eleven and a quarter miles), a different
route from the one followed, on the right. I took the middle one, and
travelled on in a storm of hail and wind with a constant deafening roar
of thunder and splendid flashes of lightning, which produced magical
effects on the ever-changing and fantastic clouds and the weird
mountain-sides along which I ploughed my way.

[Illustration: LEPERS SHOWING STUMPS OF LIMBS]

[Illustration: MY ABODE AT ASKOTE]

I arrived late in the evening at Askote, where there is neither Dâk
Bungalow nor Daramsalla,[2] and found to my disgust that none of my
carriers had yet arrived. I was offered hospitality by Pundit Jibanand,
who put me up in his schoolroom, a structure consisting of a number of
planks put together regardless of width, height, length, or shape, and
supporting a roof of straw and grass. The ventilation of my abode was all
one could wish for, and as during the night I lay wrapped up in my
blanket under the sheltering roof, I could admire through the
disconnected portions of the walls the brilliancy of the star-studded
heaven above. When the sun arose, bits of scenery appeared between plank
and plank, until by degrees the gaps were all stopped up by figures of
natives, who took possession of these points of vantage to gaze to their
hearts' content on the sahib, who, with signs of evident suspense on the
part of these spectators, managed even to shave. Hilarity, on the other
hand, was caused when I smeared myself all over with soap while bathing.
Admiration followed at my putting on my last starched shirt and other
mysterious garments, but the excitement grew almost to fever-heat when I
went through the daily nuisance of winding up my watches and registering
daily observations of temperature, etc. The strain was too much, I fancy,
and a general stampede followed the moment I touched my unloaded rifle.

The town of Askote is not unlike an old feudal castle such as are found
in many parts of Central Italy. Perched on the crown of a central hill,
the Rajiwar's palace overlooks a fine panorama of mountains encircling it
on all sides. Among the higher peaks discernible from the palace are the
Chipla Mountain and the Dafia. Then across the Kali River, forming the
boundary of Nepal, is Mount Dooti. The "_gown_" or town itself numbers
some two hundred houses scattered on the slope of the hill, and includes
a school, a post-office, and two Mahommedan shops. The Rajiwar had on my
arrival just completed building a new Court, a simple and dignified
structure of brown stone, with fine wooden carvings on the windows and
doors, and with chimneys in European fashion in each room. One wall in
each room was left open, and formed a charming verandah, commanding a
magnificent view of mountain scenery.

The Rajiwar of Askote occupies a unique position in Kumaon. Having
repurchased his right to the tenure of land in the Askote Pargana as late
as 1855, he now possesses the right of _zamindar_ (translated literally,
_landed proprietor_), and he is the only person to whom has been granted
to retain this privilege in the Kumaon Division. Jagat Sing Pal, the
Rajiwar's nephew, assured me that the people of the Askote Pargana are
brave and good-natured. They never give any trouble to the Rajiwar, who,
on the other hand, is almost a father to them. They apply to him in every
difficulty, in sickness and distress, and he looks after them in true
patriarchal fashion. The Rajiwar is not rich, probably because he spends
so much for the benefit of his people and of the strangers who pass
through Askote. Many of these are little more than beggars, of course,
even when they travel as fakirs, or other religious fanatics, going to or
returning from the sacred Mansarowar Lake in Tibet. The present
Rajiwar,[3] Pushkar Pal, belongs to the Ramchanda family, and he is a
descendant of the Solar dynasty. His ancestors lived in Aoudh or Ayodye
(as it was formerly called), whence they migrated to the hills of Katyur
in Kumaon, where they built a palace. The hill regions up to Killakanjia
and the Jumua River were under the Raja of Katyur's rule, he assuming the
title of Maharaja. A branch of the family came from Katyur to Askote, its
chief retaining the hereditary title of Rajiwar beside that of Pal, which
each male assumes. The Rajiwar pays a yearly tribute of 1800 rupees to
the Government of India. In the time of the Gourkhas he paid nothing
except occasional gifts of _Nafas_ or musk-deer to his neighbour the King
of Nepal, with whom he is still in very close relation. He was then
practically an independent king. Still Rajiwar Pushkar Pal has always
been perfectly loyal to the Government of India.

"Are the people very obsequious to the Rajiwar?" I asked of Jagat Sing
Pal.

"Yes, sir. For instance, when the Rajiwar sits on his _Karoka_ (a kind of
throne) he is saluted with a particularly respectful salaam. His subjects
bring their hand up to the forehead and support the elbow with the left
hand, as a sign that this salutation is so weighty that it requires the
support of the other hand."

At Court functions, the male relatives, friends, and servants sit near
the Rajiwar, his brother first, his son next, then his nephews, etc.
Women are of course not admitted, and although no strict code of
etiquette exists, the Rajiwar and his family are nevertheless always
treated with Eastern deference.


[2] _Daramsalla_, a stone-walled shelter for the use of travellers and
natives.

[3] _Rajiwar:_ head of kingdom.




CHAPTER IV

     The Raots--A slippery journey--Superstitious notions--Anger and
     jealousy--Friends--To the homes of the
     savages--Photography--Habitations.


[Illustration: A YOUNG MAN]

WE had walked seventy-eight miles in three marches, and my men being
footsore, I gave them a day's rest, which I employed in going to the
haunts of the "Wild men of the forest," or _Raots_ or _Rajis_, as they
style themselves. They live in the woods several miles off, and to reach
them I had to descend a steep incline covered by an uncommonly slippery
carpet of dried grass and pine needles. I had to take off shoes and
stockings to get along, and even bare-footed I found it difficult to
maintain my hold. I was accompanied by one of my chaprassis and a man
from Askote, and we were forced down more swiftly than comfortably till
we reached a faint track, which we followed until we came upon a man
hiding behind some trees. He was a wild-looking creature, naked and
unkempt, with flowing hair and scanty beard and moustache, and, regarding
us with an air of suspicion, he was most reluctant to show us the way to
the homes of his tribe. He was a Raot, and his reluctance to let us
approach his home seemed justified enough when he said to my guide, "No
white man has ever visited our home, and should one ever come we shall
all die. The spirits of the mountains will prevent your progress--not we.
You will suffer pain, for the spirit who watches over the Raots will let
no one enter their homes."

I gave the man a rupee, which he turned and weighed in his hand.

"You can come," he muttered, "but you will regret it. You will have great
misfortune."

[Illustration: RAOT ON TREE]

There was something so weirdly peculiar in the tone of voice in which the
man spoke, as if he had been in a trance, himself only the channel
through which the threat of some occult being was conveyed to us, that
for some minutes I could not get his words out of my head. I followed him
as best I could, for he climbed up huge boulders with the agility of a
monkey. It was no easy job, for we bounded and leapt from rock to rock
and vaulted over fallen trees. The track became more marked and went up
along the incline of a steep ravine. We continued until, hot and panting,
we arrived at a large hollow high up in the cliff of clay. There, on a
semicircular platform with entrenchments of felled trees, were about a
dozen men almost devoid of clothing, some sitting on their heels and
resting their arms on their knees, others lying down flat. One fellow
smoked dry leaves inside a pipe of Hindoo origin. I snatched a photo of
the group as, with an air of suspicion mingled with surprise and sadness,
but no apparent fear, they stared at the unexpected visitors. Two of the
elder men having overcome their first stupor sprang to their feet and
with mad gesticulations refused to let me come nearer. But I penetrated
right into their circle, and found myself surrounded by a sulky and angry
crowd.

[Illustration: RAOTS]

"No man has ever been here but a Raot. You will soon die. You have
offended God!" screamed an old man, in a sudden outburst of temper. He
bent his knees and curved his spine, protruding his head towards me. He
shook his fists in my face, waved them about in the air, opened and
tightly clenched them, digging his nails furiously into his palms.
Instead of contracting the scalp of his forehead, the old Raot raised
his eyebrows and turned his polished forehead into a succession of deep
wrinkles, stretching in a straight line across almost from ear to ear,
and showing only a dark dimple over his nose. His nostrils, flat and
broad to begin with, became widely expanded and raised so as to cause two
deep lines to diverge from the nose along his cheeks. His mouth was open
and a peculiar vacillation of the lower lip demonstrated plainly that its
owner had but little command over speech and articulation. His eyes,
which may have been brown originally, were discoloured, probably through
the abuse of excessive animal powers, to the possession of which the
formation of his skull strongly testified, but they assumed extraordinary
brilliancy as his fury increased. He opened them wide, apparently with an
effort, and showed the entire circle of his iris. The pupils were
dilated, notwithstanding that the light upon his face was strong at the
time.

Following his example, some of the rest displayed their discontent in a
similar fashion, but others, among whom I especially noticed two youths
with sad languishing faces, drooping large eyes, and luxuriant growth of
black hair, stood apathetically apart, with head reclining towards the
right shoulder, their features perfectly composed, and supporting their
chins on their hands. Even if they had overcome their stupor, they did
certainly not betray it, and appeared perfectly emotionless as far as
their countenances were concerned.

One fellow with an extraordinary head, a mixture it seemed of a Mongolian
and a Negroid type, was the first to calm himself of those who were so
madly excited. With piercing though unsteady eyes, and with nervous
twitching movements, he scrutinised my face more closely than the others,
and seemed to reassure them all that I had not come to hurt them. He made
signs to the rest to desist from their threats, and then, squatting down
himself, invited me to follow his example, by sitting on my heels. When
the storm had subsided and they had all sat down, I drew out of my pocket
some coins and gave one to each of them, with the exception of one man on
whom I thought I might study the passion of jealousy in its most
primitive form. I watched the man closely, and soon saw him draw apart
from the others and become sulky. The others were by now comparatively
calm. They seemed predisposed towards sadness, and I could with
difficulty extract from any of them more than a very faint sort of a
smile. They turned and twisted the coins in their hands, and compared
them among one another, jabbering and apparently content. The jealous man
kept his head turned away from them determinedly, pretending not to see
what was going on, and, resting his chin on his hand, he began to sing a
weird, melancholy, guttural song, assuming an air of contempt, especially
when the others chaffed him. Having allowed him to suffer enough, I gave
him two coins instead of one, and with them the satisfaction of the last
grin.

[Illustration: HEAD OF YOUNG MAN]

I then tried to photograph them, but my camera was looked upon with
suspicion, and as plate after plate was exposed in portraying single
individuals or groups, they shuddered at each "click" of the spring.

"The gods will be angry with you for doing _that_," said a Raot, pointing
at the camera, "unless you give us a large white coin."

I took advantage of this, and promised them as best I could through my
guide "two large coins" if they would take me to their huts, some few
hundred yards below the lofty eyrie in the cliff, but I must for the sum
be allowed not only to see but to touch and have explained to me anything
I liked.

They consented, and we began our descent of the precipitous track leading
to their habitations, a track fit really only for monkeys. Several women
and children, who had come up attracted by the sight of strangers, joined
with the men in giving us a helping hand, and in fact, I believe there
cannot have been a single paw in the company that did not at one time or
other during the descent clutch some portion of my clothing in the
friendliest spirit. Holding on to one another, we proceeded in a body,
not always at a pleasant pace, down the dangerous cliff. Two or three
times one of the natives or myself tripped and almost dragged the
remainder of the party over the precipice, while the piercing yells and
screams of the women seemed to echo back for miles around. I was not
sorry when we at last reached the small huts by the river which made up
their village.

[Illustration: TWO MEN SITTING DOWN WITH CHILDREN]

The habitations were squalid beyond measure. Constructed with a rough
frame of tree-branches, fortified by wooden posts and rafters, roofed
over with a thatch of dried grass, the majority of them measured about
ten feet. They were built against the hillside, a strong bi-forked pole
in the centre of the structure supporting the roof, and were usually
divided into two sections, so as to give shelter each of them to two
families. They contained no furniture, and but few utensils of the most
primitive make. There were circular wooden bowls scooped out in the past
by means of sharp-edged stones, and more recently by cheap blades, which
were of Indian manufacture. For such cultivation as they were capable of
these people used primitive earth rakes, and they also possessed coarse
mallets, sticks, and net bags in which they kept their stores. Their
staple food in former days was river fish, flesh of wild animals, and
roots of certain trees; but they now eat grain also, and, like all
savages, they have a craving for liquor. The interior of Raot
habitations was so primitive and lacking of furniture, that it hardly
requires to be described, and the odours that emanated from these huts
are also better left to the imagination of the reader.

Entering one of the dwellings, I found squatted round a fire of wood some
women and men, the women wearing silver bangles and glass bead necklaces,
the men very little more than string earrings. Only one of the men had on
as much as a diminutive loin-cloth, and the women had scanty dresses of
Indian manufacture, obtained in Askote.

Scanning their features carefully, it struck me that in their facial
lines many points could be traced which would make one feel inclined to
attribute to them a remote Mongolian origin, modified largely by the
climate, the nature of the country, and probably by intermarriage. In the
scale of standard human races the Raots stood extremely low, as can be
judged from the accompanying photographs. The women, as will be seen, had
abnormally small skulls with low foreheads, and although they looked
devoid even of a glint of reason, they were actually fairly intelligent.
They had high cheek-bones; long, flattish noses, broad and rounded as in
the Mongolian type. The chin was in most instances round, very receding,
though the lips were in their normal position, thin, and very tightly
closed with up-turned corners to the mouth. The lower jaw was extremely
short and narrow, whereas the upper one seemed quite out of proportion to
the size of the skull. Their ears were large, outstanding, and
unmodelled, but capable of catching sounds at great distances.

The men had better heads than the women, underdeveloped yet comparatively
well balanced. They had higher and broader foreheads, similar though
shorter noses, chins not quite so receding, the whole lower jaw
extraordinarily narrow, but the upper lip, as with the women, huge and
out of all proportion.

Undoubtedly the Raots are not a pure race, and even among the few I came
across variations so considerable occurred as to puzzle one in tracing
their origin. They invariably possess luxuriant coal-black hair, which
never attains more than a moderate length. It is not coarse in texture,
but is usually so dirty that it appears coarser than it really is. They
have very little hair on their bodies except in the arm-pits, and their
moustaches and beards hardly deserve the name.

The men generally part the crop on their head in the middle, so that it
flows on either side of the skull, just covering the ears, and I found
the same strange custom that I observed years ago among the Ainu of Yezo
of shaving a lozenge-shaped portion of the scalp in the centre of the
forehead directly above the nose. The women, using their fingers as a
comb, draw their hair to the back of the head and tie it in a knot.

The bodies of the better specimens I saw were slight and agile, with no
superfluous fat or flesh. Supple to a degree, yet solid and muscular,
with well-proportioned limbs and a skin of a rich tinge between bronze
and terra-cotta colour, these savages, dirty and unclothed as they were,
certainly appealed to the artistic side of my temperament, particularly
on account of their very majestic deportment. I noticed their regular
breathing, which they usually did through the nose, keeping their mouths
tightly closed, and also one very curious peculiarity about their feet,
viz., the length of the second toe, protruding considerably beyond the
others, and giving them no doubt the power of using their toes almost as
we should our fingers. The palms of their hands were almost without
lines, the finger-nails flat, and their thumbs stumpy with the last
phalange curiously short.

[Illustration: A YOUNG MAN]

If the Raots to-day have adopted some articles of clothing and ornament,
besides altering their diet to a certain extent, it is due entirely to
the Rajiwar of Askote, who, taking a great interest in the tribes he
rules over, provides them in a patriarchal way with all sorts of
necessaries of life. Very few Raots have of late years visited Askote, as
they are of a retiring nature and seem contented with their primitive
abodes in the forests of Chipula, which they claim as their own. Their
only occupations are fishing and hunting, and they are said to have a
predilection for the flesh of the larger Himahlyan monkey, although from
my own observation I should have said that they would eat almost anything
they could get. It has generally been assumed that the Raot women are
kept in strict seclusion and hidden from strangers, and I cannot better
prove the absurdity of this than by reproducing in these pages one of
several photographs of the Raot women, for which they posed at my
request without the slightest objection from the men. They are generally
believed to be chaste, and my photographs prove, I think, that whatever
charm they may possess for the Raot men, their peculiar beauty offers but
little temptation to others.

They are rapidly diminishing in numbers, chiefly no doubt on account of
constant intermarriage. I was assured that the women are not sterile, but
that there is enormous mortality among the young children. They bury
their dead, and for several days afterwards offer food and water to the
spirit of the departed.

I was unable to ascertain what their marriage ceremonies were like, or if
they had any to speak of, but it appeared that there was a considerable
family feeling among couples living maritally together. They are
superstitious and hold in curious awe the spirits of the mountains, the
sun, the moon, fire, water, and wind. Whether this amounts to a definite
form of worship I cannot say: I certainly saw no signs of the offering of
prayers or sacrifices.

The Raots claim to be the descendants of kings, and they refuse
allegiance to any one. They will neither salute you nor bow to you.

"It is for other people to salute us. Our blood is the blood of kings,
and though for choice we have for centuries retired to the jungle, we are
none the less the sons of kings."

After a while, and when I had spent some considerable time among them,
these royal savages seemed uncomfortable and apprehensive. I had turned
over, examined, drawn or photographed every household article I had seen,
had measured every one, male and female, who consented to be measured,
and paid them the stipulated money. As I was about to leave, the
grey-haired man approached me again.

"You have seen the home of the Raots. You are the first stranger who has
done so, and you will suffer much. The gods are very angry with you."

"Yes," rejoined another savage, pointing at the ravine, "whoever treads
along that track and is not a Raot will be afflicted by a great
calamity."

"_Kush paruani, Sahib"_ ("Never mind, sir"), interrupted the guide, "they
are only barbarians, they know no better. I have myself never been here,
so I suppose I shall also come in for my share."

"You too will suffer," said the old Raot, with self-assurance.

The Raots stood round me silently as I packed up the camera, and I felt
that they looked upon me as a man whose fate was settled. They did not
acknowledge my farewell, and, had I been in the least superstitious,
might have made me thoroughly uncomfortable with their solemn, stolid
gravity.

[Illustration: RAOT WOMEN OF THE FOREST]




CHAPTER V

     A pilgrim from Mansarowar Lake--The spirits of the mountains--A
     safeguard against them--Tibetan encampments--The Rajiwar--A
     waterfall--Watermills.


HAVING returned to Askote from my excursion, I saw while going round the
town with Jagat Sing, in a low stone shed by the side of the palace, the
tall gaunt figure of a man emerging from a cloud of smoke.

"Who is that?" I inquired of my companion.

"Oh, that is a fakir returning from a pilgrimage to the sacred lake of
Mansarowar in Tibet. Many of these fanatics pass through here during the
summer on their religious journeys."

[Illustration: THE RAJIWAR OF ASKOTE, HIS BROTHER AND SON]

My curiosity drew me towards the weird individual. He was over six feet
in height, and his slim body had been covered with ashes, giving the dark
skin a tinge of ghastly grey. I asked him to come out into the light. His
masses of long hair had been plaited into small tresses which were wound
round his head in the fashion of a turban--the "_Tatta_." The hair, too,
had been whitened, while the long thin beard had been dyed bright red.
His eyes were sunken and, apparently to add to the ghastly and decidedly
repulsive effect, his forehead and cheeks were plastered with a thick
white paint. He seemed half stupefied, and had very little to say for
himself. As can be seen by the illustration, he was scantily clothed, but
he wore the _Kamarjuri_ or fakir's chain about his loins, and he had a
bead bracelet round his arm above the elbow. His waist was encircled with
a belt of wooden beads, and a necklace of plaited hair ornamented his
neck. He spent his days rolling himself in ashes and enduring
self-imposed bodily privations, with a view to attain a state of
sanctification.

[Illustration: FAKIR RETURNING FROM MANSAROWAR]

Rumours had reached me of some curious superstitions prevalent among
these mountain folk.

"Tell me," I said to Jagat Sing, "are there 'spirits of the mountain' in
these ranges? And do the people really believe in them?"

"Yes, sir," replied the young fellow, "there certainly are a number of
them, and they are often very troublesome, especially to certain people.
They are seldom known, however, to kill any one."

"Then they are not quite so bad as some human beings," I replied.

"Well, sir, they are very bad. They seize sleeping people by the throat
with claws like iron, sitting on the chests of their victims."

"Does not that sound more like an attack of indigestion?"

"No, sir. The ghosts of the mountains are the spirits of people that have
not gone to heaven. They are to be found in swarms at night in the
forest. The people are terrified of them. They haunt the mountain-tops
and slopes, and they can assume the semblance of a cat, a mouse, or any
other animal; in fact they are said to frequently change their
appearance. Where no man can tread, among rocks and precipices, or in the
thick jungle, the spirits seek their retreat, but often they abandon
their haunts to seek for men. The person who becomes possessed generally
remains in a semi-conscious condition and ejaculates mad cries and
unintelligible words. There are men who profess to know charms to draw
them out. Some remedies are for that purpose commonly used by the natives
with more or less success. A grass called _Bichna_ (nettles) has the
faculty of frightening the spirits away when applied on the body of the
sufferer, but the most effective remedy is to make pretence to beat with
a red-hot iron the person possessed. The spirits seem to fear that more
than anything else."

"Do the spirits ever speak?" I inquired, interested in the curious
superstitions of these hill men.

"No, sir, not often, nor usually directly, but they do it through people
who are possessed by them. It is they who tell many strange tales of the
spirits. One curious point about them is that they only seize people who
are afraid of them. If defied they vanish."

"Do the natives adopt any special method to protect themselves from these
mountain demons?"

"Fire is the only sure protection. Any one sleeping near a fire is safe,
and as long as there is a flame blazing the spirits keep away."

"Do you know any one who has seen them?"

"Yes. A chaprassi called Joga tells of having been compelled to travel at
night through a forest: he heard a voice calling him by name. Terrified,
he stopped, and for some moments his voice failed him. At last, trembling
all over, he replied, and instantly a swarm of spirits appeared and
challenged him to do them harm. Joga ran for his life and the demons
vanished. Spirits have been known to throw stones at passers-by."

"Have you ever seen a spirit, Jagat Sing?"

"Only once. I was returning to the palace late in the evening when up the
steep road I perceived a woman's figure. It was a beautiful moonlight
night. I walked up, and as I passed, the face of the strange being
appeared black, inhuman and ghastly. I staggered when I saw the weird
apparition approach, my blood ran cold with fear. I struck a mighty blow
with my stick, but behold! the cane whirled through the air and hit
nothing. Instantly the ghost vanished."

"I wish, Jagat Sing, that you could show me some of these spirits; I
would give anything to make a sketch of them."

"You cannot always see them when you want, sir, but they are always to be
avoided. They are evil spirits and can do nothing but harm."

       *       *       *       *       *

Leaving Askote (4600 feet) by the winding road through a dense forest, I
crossed by a suspension bridge the Gori River at Gargia (2450 feet). The
track was along the low and unpleasantly hot valley of the Kali River, a
raging stream flowing with indescribable rapidity in the opposite
direction to that in which I was travelling. It formed the boundary line
between Nepal and Kumaon. Huts and patches of cultivation were to be seen
on the Nepalese side, whereas on our side we came upon deserted and
roofless winter dwellings of Shokas (usually but not correctly called
Botiyas) and Tibetans, who migrate to these warmer regions to graze their
sheep during the colder months of the year. The Shoka summer residences
are at greater elevations, mostly along the highways to Tibet and nearer
the Tibetan boundary. On arriving at the Kutzia Daramsalla, a messenger
brought me the news that the Rajiwar, whom I had missed seeing at Askote,
was now here for the purpose of making offerings to certain deities. He
would call upon me at 3 P.M., so, having some time to spare, I went to
bathe in the deliciously cold though, as I found, dangerously rapid
stream. Swimming was out of the question, and even an immersion bath was
attended with a certain amount of risk. The current caused me to lose my
footing, and I soon found myself washed with great force against some
rocks thirty or forty yards down stream. I came out of the water _minus_
a few patches of skin on my knees and shins, and while drying myself in
the sun, received a deputation of the _Patan_ (head village man) and
other natives, conveying with their most respectful salaams gifts of
milk, _kielas_ (bananas), _kakri_ (gigantic cucumbers), and nuts. These
hill fellows impressed me as being of a far superior standard to the
Hindoos of the plains. They were lightly yet strongly built, and showed
evidence of both character and dignity. With their fair complexion and
luxuriant black hair and moustache they resembled Spaniards or Southern
Italians. They lacked entirely the affected manner and falseness of
speech and demeanour, so common among the natives who are constantly in
contact with Europeans.

Below the Daramsalla, near the water-side, was a large Tibetan encampment
of some twenty or thirty tents which had all originally been white, but
were now black with smoke. In these were men, women, and children, with
all their paraphernalia; and the first thing that attracted my eye in
each tent was the quantity of shiny brass bowls strewn upon the ground,
the entire energy of the tent-owners seemingly being spent in keeping
these utensils clean and bright, to the utter neglect of their other
property. Walls of sheep-loads were erected either inside the tent or
directly outside, covered in the latter case with cloths in order to
protect them from the rain.

Punctually at 3 P.M. the Rajiwar arrived, carried in a _dandy_, and
followed by his brother, who sat in a mountain dandy. The Rajiwar's son
and heir rode a splendid grey pony. I went to assist the old Rajiwar to
alight, as for some years he had been paralysed. We shook hands heartily,
and I led him into the Daramsalla (2875 feet), where in default of
furniture we all sat on packing-cases. His refined, well-cut features,
his attractive manner, and the soft, dignified voice in which he spoke
clearly indicated a man of superior blood and uncommon ability. His
modesty and simplicity were delightful.

"I hope that your health is good and that you have not suffered too much
on your journey. I was grieved not to be in Askote to receive you. Are
your dear parents alive? Have you any brothers and sisters? Are you
married? I would much like to visit England. It must be a wonderful
country, and so much do I admire it that I have given my nephews a
British education, and one of them is now serving the Maharanee (Queen)
Victoria as Political Peshkar."

I answered his questions as best I could with the aid of a Hindustani
dictionary, expressive gestures, and quick sketches. He spoke of many of
our latest inventions with marked interest and intelligence.

He seemed greatly struck with my scientific instruments, but he and his
people were more particularly attracted by my rifles, revolvers, and
other weapons, especially the 256° Mannlicher, sighted to 1000 yards.

The Rajiwar pressed me to return with him to Askote, where he offered to
give me tiger, bear, and leopard shooting. Tempting as the invitation
was, I could not accept it, for my plans would lead me in the opposite
direction. His visit lasted for more than three hours; and I was pleased
to feel that we parted great friends.

[Illustration: THE RAJIWAR AND HIS BROTHER IN DANDIES.]

On the road to Dharchula, along the low-lying valley, the heat was
unbearable, although the sun was near the horizon. We came upon a
waterfall falling from a great height over a series of umbrella-like
stalactites covered with moss. The last rays of the sun shone on the
dropping water, brilliant and sparkling as a shower of diamonds. Several
small rainbows added to the beauty of the scene. I rested some time in
this cool and beautiful retreat. There were birds singing and monkeys
playing among the trees. Farther on, where the river bends, there are two
large caves hollowed in the rock; the smoke-blackened ceilings prove that
these are used as camping grounds by travelling Shokas and Hunyas
(Tibetans). Large black-faced, white-bearded monkeys swarmed everywhere,
frankly and gladly mischievous. They throw or roll stones down upon the
passers-by, often causing accidents, the track being rather narrow and
sheer above the river.

Previous to arriving at the spot where the Tsuagar flows into the Kali
River one meets with many Tibetan, Humli and Rongba encampments.

I camped at Kalika (3205 feet) by the side of a gigantic tree with boughs
spreading well over the road, the chaprassis and men erecting a
comfortable _chöpper_ of mats, foliage, and branches.

I was anxious to get through the hot valley with the greatest possible
speed, so, notwithstanding that we had halted very late at night, I
roused my men at 3 A.M. and again set forth on the march. Here and there
along the road we passed deserted winter dwellings of Shokas, nearly all
with broken thatched roofs. Some, however, were roofed with slate, the
distinctive mark of residence of the Darma Shokas.

The primitive Shoka water-mills were curious. By a very ingenious
contrivance the water of a stream propelled a heavy cylindrical stone
revolving on the top of another. The grain fell slowly from a magazine
above into a hole pierced in the centre of the upper wheel, and finding
its way through a channel between the two cylinders, was ground into fine
flour.

Dharchula (3550 _feet_) the largest Shoka winter settlement, is situated
on a fine stretch of flat land some hundred feet above the river; the
village consists of twelve long rows of roofless houses very similar in
size and shape. Four larger buildings at the extreme limit of the
settlement attract notice. One of these is a Daramsalla. The others, two
high stone buildings, are a school, hospital and dispensary belonging to
the Methodist Episcopal Mission and under the careful supervision of Miss
Sheldon, M.D., Miss Brown, and that wonderful pioneer, Dr. H. Wilson. A
bungalow of the same mission is built higher up on the hillside.

Between the two spots where from Nepal the Lachu and the Shakta join the
Kali, was Dubart (3700 feet), and from thence one gradually rose to 4120
feet at the Relegar River, also a tributary of the larger stream. Having
crossed the Rankuti River I ascended still higher by zigzag walking,
slowly leaving behind me range after range of mountains beyond the valley
of the river; while on the Nepal side, beyond the three nearer ranges,
snow peaks of great height and beauty stood out against the sky-line. The
highest point on the road was 5450 feet, after which we descended to 5275
feet at Khela Daramsalla, which we did not reach till late at night.

Near Khela on the top of a high mountain stood a tall quadrangular rock
not unlike a tower. The natives say that a mere touch causes it to shake
and revolve, but this belief is not general, for others deny that it ever
moves. I could not spare the time to go and test the facts, nor could I
obtain reliable information from any one who had had actual experience.
So far as I could see with the aid of my telescope, the rock seemed to be
standing firmly on a very solid base. To my regret also, I was unable to
visit the curious hot sulphur springs on the Darma Ganga, and the strange
cave in which much animal life is lost owing to the noxious gases rising
from the ground. I gathered from various reports that this cave or grotto
is packed with skeletons of birds and quadrupeds who have unknowingly
entered this chamber of death.




CHAPTER VI

     Highways and trade routes--The Darma route--The Dholi River--A
     rough track connecting two valleys--Glaciers--Three ranges and
     their peaks--Altitudes--_Darma, Johar_, and the _Painkhanda_
     Parganas--The highest peak in the British Empire--Natural
     boundaries.


THERE are two principal highways from Khela to Hundes: one by the valley
of the Dholi or Darma River, the other along the Kali River and over the
Lippu Pass.

[Illustration: VIEW OF THE HIMAHLYAS--SHOWING NANDA DEVI AND TRISUL
PEAKS]

The trade route _viâ_ Darma is less frequented than the one by the Lippu,
but it is nevertheless of considerable importance, inasmuch as a certain
portion of the trade of South-west Tibet with India is carried on through
the medium of the Darma Shokas. It consists mainly of borax, salt, wool,
skins, cloth, and utensils, in exchange for which the Tibetans take
silver, wheat, rice, _satoo_, _ghur_, lump candied sugar, pepper, beads
of all kinds, and articles of Indian manufacture. For a mountain track,
and considering the altitudes to which it rises, the Darma way is
comparatively good and safe, notwithstanding that in following upwards
the course of the Dholi River the narrow path in many places overhangs
deep ravines and precipices. There are many Shoka villages and
settlements on the banks of the stream, the most important ones being the
Nyu, Sobala, Sela, Nagling (9520 feet), Bahling (10,230 feet), Sona and
Tuktung (10,630 feet), Dansu and Yansu, where there is a bridge. On the
north-east bank is Goa, facing Dakar, and farther up, at an elevation of
10,400 feet, the Lissar, a rapid tributary with muddy water.

The Dholi springs from a series of comparatively small glaciers
north-east of a range forming a branch of the higher Himahlyan chain, and
extending in a south-easterly direction as far as the point where the two
streams meet. It receives, on its precipitous descent, many small
snow-fed tributaries, those from the Katz snowfields and the Nui glacier
being the most important. Its way lies in a tortuous channel amidst rocks
and ravines, first tending towards the South-East, then due South, and
last South-West down to the point where it is joined by the Lissar,
coming from the North-West along a line almost parallel on the opposite
watershed of the range.

[Illustration: DARMA SHOKAS AND TIBETANS]

Tyang, Sipu (11,400 feet), and Marcha (10,890 feet), are the three most
important Shoka villages on the Lissar.

[Illustration: VIEW OF THE HIMAHLYAS. SHOWING NANDA DEVI AND TRISUL
PEAKS.]

From Marcha there is a track connecting the valleys of the Lissar and
Gori. You ascend the high mountain range west of the Lissar by skirting
the northern edge of the Nipchung Kang glacier and keeping south of the
Kharsa glacier, and, on a route that is unpopular on account of its
constant difficulties and perils, you pass, as you descend in a westerly
direction, the Tertcha glacier. South of the Shun Kalpa glacier you reach
first Ralem and then Sumdu, which is situated on a tributary of the Gori
River, itself a tributary of the Kali. The rugged, barren chain of
mountains separating the Gori from the Lissar extends in a general
direction from S.S.E. to N.N.E. up to the Ralfo glacier, and there turns
in a curve North-West among a succession of perpetual snow-fields and
glaciers. The glaciers to the North-East and East of the range outnumber
those on the West, but there is one of importance called in its different
sections the Kala Baland, the Shun Kalpa, and the Tertcha. There are,
along the fifteen most northerly miles of the range, south of the point
where it joins the Himahlyan chain, other glaciers of considerable size
and importance, but I was not able to ascertain their names, excepting
that of the _Lissar seva_, the most northern of all, forming the source
of the Lissar. The inter-Lissar-Gori range is of considerable
geographical importance, not only because it forms the boundary between
the two parts of Bhot called Darma and Johar, but also because of the
magnificent peaks reaching in the Bambadhura an elevation of 20,760 feet,
and in a higher unnamed peak, South-East of it, 21,470 feet. There are
also the two Kharsa peaks, the one North-West of the glacier bearing its
name being 19,650 feet, the one South-West of it slightly over 20,900
feet, and S.S.W. one peak 21,360 feet, another 21,520 feet, and farther
still, North of the Telkot glacier, the highest of all, 22,660 feet. In a
South-East direction there are peaks 20,700 feet, 20,783 feet, and 21,114
feet high. At the point where the ridge turns South the elevations become
lower, the two highest being 19,923 feet and 19,814 feet, the latter
situated at the point where a smaller range branches off to the
South-East, the principal range running South for the next eleven or
twelve miles, with no very remarkable elevations. In the side range there
are peaks of 18,280 feet, 17,062 feet, 14,960 feet, 14,960 feet
respectively.

In Lat. 29° 59' 10" N. and Long. 80° 31' 45" E. the range again separates
into two secondary ridges, one extending South-East, the other
South-West, and in turn both these are again subdivided into minor hill
ridges, along which no summits are found surpassing 13,000 feet, except
the Basili, 13,244 feet.

The Bungadhura Mountain (9037 feet), in close proximity to Khela,
terminates the South-Easterly division of the range, separating the
Pargana of Darma from that of Askote. The actual boundary line, however,
does not follow the higher mountain range as far as the Kali River, but
swerves to the south along the ridge overlooking the valley of the River
Relegar. These mountains are called the Mangthil.

There is west of the above ridge a second and even more important chain,
running out parallel to it from the backbone of the Himahlyan great
mountain system. This second ridge contains the highest mountain in the
British Empire, Nanda Devi (25,660 feet) with its second peak (24,380
feet), also Trisul (23,406 feet), East Trisul (22,360 feet), and Nanda
Kot (22,530 feet). This range and its ramifications divide the valleys of
the Gori River (the Pargana of Johar) from the most Western portion of
Bhot, the Painkhanda Pargana.

The well-known Milam and Pindari glaciers are one on the Eastern, the
other on the South-West side of this range. The Milam highway to Tibet,
frequented by the Johari traders, traverses over the Kungribingri Pass
(18,300 feet), and the Uttadhura (17,590 feet) directly S.S.W. of it into
Hundes.

The Pargana Painkhanda, a region equally Alpine, similarly covered with
vast stretches of perpetual snow and extensive glaciers, is in the
North-East corner of Garwhal, bordering on Tibet, and along the Dhauli
River; intersecting it, another trade route finds its way into Western
Tibet by the Niti Pass. Leaving the course of the Dhauli at Jelam (10,100
feet), this track proceeds almost due east, rising to an altitude of
16,600 feet on the Niti, in Lat. 30° 57' 59" N. and Long. 79° 55' 3" E.,
which is, from all accounts, a very easy pass, and quite free from snow
during the summer months. The people of the Painkhanda Pargana use this
pass as well as the other passes of Malla Shilanch and Tumzun, besides
the Shorhoti, visited by H. R. Strachey some years ago, over which,
however, only a small portion of the trade with Hundes is carried, for it
is considered the most dangerous of the three. The cold and turbid waters
of the Dhauli, swollen by dozens of equally foaming and muddy
tributaries, become ultimately the sacred waters of the Ganges.

The three Alpine Parganas, viz., the Painkhanda, Johar, and Darma (Darma,
Chaudas, and Bias) are inhabited by races closely allied and akin to
those of Tibet proper. The region is collectively named Bhot, although
that designation is more particularly applied by the natives of India to
that portion of the country which includes Darma, Bias, and Chaudas, and
which has for natural boundaries the Kali River to the South-East,
separating it from Nepal and the great Himahlyan chain to the North-East,
extending from the Lissar Peak in a general direction of about 115°.

A ramification leaving the main range at the Darma Pass stretches across
from N.N.W. to S.S.E., separating the above-mentioned Darma Ganga from
the Kuti River, along which I eventually travelled on my way to Tibet.
The main elevations found on this ridge are 18,510 feet on the Darma
Pass; north-east of the Rama glacier a peak 20,760 feet; the Gurma
Mountain 20,320 feet; and others south of them as high as 20,380 feet,
20,330 feet, 20,260 feet. East of the latter summit is one 20,455 feet.




CHAPTER VII

     The word _Bhot_ and its meaning--Tibetan influence--Tibetan
     abuses--The ever-helpful Chanden Sing--The first Shoka
     village--Chanden Sing in disgrace--Weaving-loom--Fabrics--All's
     well that ends well!


THE name _Bhot_, pronounced Bod, Pote, Tüpöt, or Taipöt, by which this
inter-Alpine region is called, means Tibet. In fact _Tibet_ is probably
merely a corruption of _Tüpöt_. These lofty "pattis" of Darma, Bias, and
Chaudas nominally form part of the British Empire, our geographical
boundary with Nari Khorsum or Hundes (Great Tibet), being the main
Himahlyan chain forming the watershed between the two countries. In spite
of this actual territorial right, I found at the time of my visit in 1897
that it was impossible not to agree with the natives in asserting that
British prestige and protection in those regions were mere myths; that
Tibetan influence alone was dominant and prevailing, and Tibetan law
enforced and feared. The natives invariably showed abject obsequiousness
and servile submission to Tibetans, being at the same time compelled to
display actual disrespect to British officials. They were driven to bring
the greater number of civil and criminal cases before Tibetan magistrates
in preference to having them tried in a British court.

The Tibetans, in fact, openly claimed possession of the "pattis"
bordering on Nari Khorsum; and the more obviously to impress our natives
with their influence as superior to British, they came over to hibernate
on our side, and made themselves quite at home in the warmer valleys and
in the larger bazaars. They brought their families with them, and drove
before them thousands and thousands of sheep to graze on our
pasture-lands; they gradually destroyed our forests in Bias to supply
South-Western Tibet with fuel for the summer months. For this they not
only paid nothing, but our native subjects had to convey the timber over
the high passes without remuneration. Necessarily such unprincipled
task-masters did not draw the line at extorting from our natives under
any pretence money, food, clothes, and everything else they could
possibly levy. Some were known to travel yearly as far south as Lucknow,
Calcutta, and Bombay.

[Illustration: SHOKA WEAVERS]

So much for the gentleness of the Tibetans--a hermit nation living in a
closed country!

Chanden Sing, ever anxious to be polite and helpful, would not hear of my
carrying my own sketch and note books as had always been my custom, but
insisted on doing so himself.

"_Hum pagal neh!_" ("I am no fool!") said he with an expression of
wounded feelings. "I will take great care of them."

We started up the steep road, having first descended to the level of the
River Dholi, 800 feet lower than Khela, crossing by a wooden bridge. The
zigzag up the mountain-side seemed endless. Here and there a cool spring
of crystal water quenched our thirst, welcome indeed on that tedious
ascent in the broiling sun. Six miles above Khela we had risen to 7120
feet, and from this point the incline became less trying. Still we rose
to 7450 feet two miles farther on, where under the shade of some
magnificent old trees, at Pungo, I halted for lunch. We had entered the
first inhabited village of the Shokas, visually but erroneously called
Botiyas, and were now in that part of their country called Chaudas.

A pleasant surprise awaited me. A smart-looking lad in European clothes
came boldly forward, and, stretching out his hand, shook mine for some
considerable time in a jovial and friendly fashion.

"I am a Christian," said he.

"I should say that you were by the way you shake hands."

"Yes, sir," he proceeded. "I have prepared for you some milk, some
_chapatis_ (native bread), and some nuts. Please accept them."

"Thank you," I said. "You do not seem to be a bad Christian. What is your
name?"

"Master G. B. Walter, sir. I teach in the school."

A crowd of Shokas had collected. Their first shyness having worn off,
they proved to be polite and kind. The _naïve_ nature and graceful manner
of the Shoka girls struck me particularly on this my first introduction
to them. Much less shy than the men, they came forward, and joked and
laughed as if they had known me all their lives. I wished to sketch two
or three of the more attractive.

"Where is my book, Chanden Sing?" I inquired of my bearer.

"_Hazur hum mallum neh!_" ("I do not know, sir!") was his melancholy
answer as he searched his empty pockets.

"Ah! you villain! Is that the care you take of my notes and sketches?
What have you done with them?"

"Oh Sahib, I drank some water at the Dholi River. I had the book then in
my hand. I must have left it on a stone when I stooped to drink water
from the stream," the wretched man explained.

It is hardly necessary to say that Chanden Sing was promptly despatched
to the spot he had named, with strict orders not to appear before me
again without the book. I spent two or three pleasant hours in having
the primitive Shoka weaving-looms, the processes of spinning and cloth
manufacture, explained to me. As can be seen from the illustration on p.
42, the weaving looms of the Shokas are in every way similar to those
used by the Tibetans proper, and are quite simple in construction. The
warp is kept at great tension, and the cloth-beam on which the woven
tissue is rolled rests on the woman's lap during the process of weaving.
There are no treadles in the Shoka loom, by which the two sets of warp
threads are alternately raised or depressed between each time that the
transverse thread is passed, and all work is done by hand. The transverse
thread is beaten firmly home by means of a heavy prismatic piece of wood.
The material used in weaving is yak or sheep's wool, either in its
natural colour or dyed in the primary colours of red and blue and yellow,
and one secondary only, green. Blue and red are used in the greater and
equal proportion; then green. Yellow is very parsimoniously used. The
thread is well twisted and is subjected to no preparation before
spinning, leaving thus a certain greasiness in the closely-woven material
that renders it waterproof. In weaving colour fabrics several shuttles
are used.

Shoka women are very adept at this ancient art, and they patiently sit
out of doors day after day weaving most intricate and artistic patterns.
These coloured tissues, if we except the simpler ones with blue ground
and lines for women's garments, are usually very narrow (about seven
inches in width), whereas the less elaborate ones, such as the white
material of which men's clothes are made, average sixteen inches.

The patterns in these many-coloured materials are woven from memory, and
do not contain curves or circles, but are entirely composed of lines and
angles, combinations of small lozenges and squares separated by long
tri-coloured parallel lines, forming, so far as weaving is concerned, the
main Shoka ideas of decoration and ornament. The fabrics are
extraordinarily strong. The narrow coloured cloth of better quality is
used mostly for making bags in which money and food are carried; the
coarser kind for the double sheep-loads.

The more talented of the Shoka young women show much ingenuity in carpet
or rather rug making. They have copied the idea from old Chinese rugs
which have found their way here _viâ_ Lhassa, and though upon close
examination it is true they differ considerably in quality and
manufacture, they are pleasing enough to the eye. These rugs are woven
upon coarse thread matting, the coloured material being let in
vertically. A soft surface is obtained not unlike in general appearance
to that of Persian carpets, but not quite so pleasant to the touch. These
small rectangular rugs are offered in the house of Shoka gentlemen to
guests to sit on, and are also used to render the Tibetan saddles less
uncomfortable.

As time went on I became very anxious as to the missing book, for it
contained all my notes of the journey. The thought of its being deposited
on a rock washed by a rapid stream into which it might easily slip and be
carried away kept me in a state of suspense. At last a staggering figure
approached; it was Chanden Sing waving the book triumphantly in the air.
He had run the distance of many miles down to the river and back so
quickly that when he reached me he was utterly exhausted. He handed me
the book, and once more we started, followed by Walter and the whole
community, down the steep incline to the river. At this place some of the
Shokas seized my hands and placed them on their foreheads, at the same
time making deep bows. Others embraced my feet, while the women folks
bade me the usual Hindustani "_Acha giao_" ("Go well").

After some time had been wasted, or at least spent, in receiving these
odd salutations, I persuaded them to retrace their steps, and they left
me.




CHAPTER VIII

     Prayer by wind-power--Photography under difficulties--A night of
     misery--Drying up--Two lady missionaries--Their valuable work--An
     interesting dinner party--An "eccentric" man's tea party.


[Illustration: SHRINE AND FLYING PRAYERS]

TO reach Shosha I had to climb a further three miles, which proved almost
as steep as the previous ascent to Pungo.

A curious custom of praying by wind-power, probably borrowed from the
Tibetans, prevails among the Shokas. The Tibetans, with a more intense
religion than the Shokas, use for this purpose not only the wind but even
water to propel their praying machines. Let me explain these simple
mechanical contrivances for prayers. One or more rags or pieces of cloth,
usually white, but on occasions red or blue, are fastened and hung by one
end to a string stretched across a road, a pass, or a path. On crossing a
pass for the first time Shokas invariably cut a strip of cloth and place
it so that it will flap in the breeze. Also when materials for a new
dress are purchased or manufactured, it is customary for them to tear off
a narrow strip of the stuff and make a flying prayer of it. As long as
there is motion in it there is prayer, so that the natives tie them very
fast to sticks, poles, or branches of trees; and certain shrubs and trees
in weird romantic spots on the mountains are covered with these religious
signs. Moreover, on the top of nearly every Shoka dwelling a vast number
of similar little flags can be seen, as well as near their shrines and at
the outer gates of a village.

I put up at the Titela Daramsalla, one mile above Shosha village. The
weather had been threatening for several days, and a steady downpour came
upon us during the evening. Work had been accumulating daily. I decided
to develop the large number of plates I had taken on my journey, a job
hateful beyond measure when you are on the move. Having duly unpacked all
the developing dishes and prepared the different solutions, I set to work
to make the shelter completely dark. The next important item required was
water, and of this there was plenty in that wretched shanty! I had just
developed half-a-dozen negatives, and was delighted at the excellent
results, when, in consequence of the storm having grown more violent, the
rain began dripping on my head through the leaky roof of the Daramsalla.
To move all the trays of developers, baths, and fixing solution would
have been a nuisance; besides, I was too interested in my work to be put
out by such small trifles, so I patiently stood this new discomfort. I
shifted my position continually, merely with the result that the rain
dripped alternately on my back, my legs, or my shoulders, according to my
position. It fell in torrents, and the roof over me was so leaky that I
might as well have been out in the open. I was sitting in a pool of water
and could not lay my hands upon anything that was not drenched.
Fortunately my boxes and cases were water-tight, or all the instruments
and plates would have been damaged.

Annoying as it was, I had to give up work. The best thing to do was to go
to sleep. Easier said than done. My bedding and blanket were soaked. The
attempts to lie under a waterproof sheet failed, for I felt suffocated,
so I passed the cover to my servant, who, rolling himself in it, was soon
in the arms of Morpheus. Tired and disgusted, I crouched myself up and
eventually fell asleep. I woke up in the morning with a biting pain in my
toes. I had been lying face downwards, and had involuntarily stretched my
legs during the night. I discovered to my horror that one foot rested in
the developing bath and the other in the fixing solution, which I had
forgotten to empty out of the large celluloid trays.

The morning was spent in drying up things in the sun, including our
clothes, while we, clad in a "_doti_" (large loin-cloth as used by the
natives of India), squatted down in the warmth in order to restore our
saturated skins to their natural condition.

I was in the meantime interviewed by many Shokas, applying for medicines,
and wishing to sell their native wares.

A pretty girl, from whom I bought a curious set of neck hangings made of
musk-deer teeth, wished to be cured of the _goître_, a complaint too
common, alas! on these hills. Then a child was brought with a nasty
tumour in a state of suppuration inside his left ear. Others wished to be
cured of pains in the stomach and liver, which are very general among
them owing to their abuse of liquor.

Upon hearing that two lady missionaries lived a mile and a half farther
on, at Sirka, I gave myself the pleasure of calling upon them. They
possessed a nice bungalow at an elevation of 8900 feet above sea level,
by the side of which was another structure for the accommodation of
converts and servants. Lower on the hillside they had built a dispensary
and hospital.

[Illustration: WRINKLED SHOKA]

I was received with the utmost courtesy by Miss Sheldon, M.D., and Miss
Brown, of the Methodist Episcopal Mission. I have in my lifetime met with
many missionaries of all creeds in nearly every part of the globe, but
never has it been my luck before to meet two such charming, open-minded,
and really hard-working ladies as the two who now so kindly received me.

"Come right in, Mr. Landor," said Miss Sheldon with her delightful
American accent, and she shook hands with me in a good, hearty fashion.

The natives had praised to me the charity and helpfulness of this lady.
I found this more than justified. By night or day she would never refuse
help to the sick, and her deeds of kindness which became known to me are
far too numerous to detail in these pages. Perhaps her most valuable
quality is her perfect tact--a quality I have found none too common among
missionaries. Her patience, her kindly manner towards the Shokas, her
good heart, the wonderful cures she wrought among the sick, were items of
which these honest mountaineers had everlasting praises to sing. A Shoka
was telling me that it was not an uncommon thing for Miss Sheldon to give
away all her own food supplies, and even the clothes from her
back--courting for herself discomfort, yet happy in her good work.

With it was combined a charming modesty. No word about herself or her
actions ever passed her lips. A pioneer in these parts, she evidently
must have encountered much difficulty in the beginning. At present her
good influence over the Shokas is very considerable. The same can be said
of Miss Brown, who was in every way a worthy comrade of Miss Sheldon.

[Illustration: LAL SING TOKUDAR AND HIS BROTHER]

They have both in a comparatively short time become fully acquainted with
the Shoka language, and can converse in it as fluently as in English,
this fact alone endearing them greatly to the natives.

They were kind enough to ask me to dinner. "It is Sunday," said Miss
Sheldon, "and we shall have all our Christians dining with us. You will
not mind, I am sure."

I assured her that nothing would interest me more.

I arrived punctually at the hour appointed, and on the verandah of the
bungalow were laid some nice clean mats upon which we all sat
cross-legged in native fashion. We three Europeans were provided with
knife and fork, but all the natives helped themselves with their fingers,
which they used with much dexterity. There were among the converts some
Hindoos, some Shokas, some Humlis, and a Tibetan woman. All counted, I
suppose they were about twenty, and it would be impossible to find a
better behaved set of Christians anywhere. They ate heartily and only
spoke when they were spoken to.

"I doubt whether I have ever dined with so many good Christians," said I
jokingly to Miss Sheldon. "It is delightful."

"They would much like to hear some of the experiences of your travels if
you would be kind enough to tell them. That is to say, if you are not too
tired and do not mind."

Interpreted by Miss Brown, I related some of my adventures in the country
of the Ainu. Rarely have I had such an interested audience. When the
story ended they all salaamed me, and an old veteran Gourkha, one of the
converts, took my hand and shook it warmly.

"You must not mind, Mr. Landor: you see, we treat our Christians like
ourselves,"[4] quickly interrupted Miss Sheldon.

"Oh no, I do not mind," I replied. "On the contrary, I am glad to see it
done."

I took my leave and asked the ladies to come to tea with me the next day.
The afternoon came and they arrived, when to my horror it flashed across
my mind that I had neither cups, nor saucers, nor spoons. I had some tea,
but I had no idea in which box it was, and to save my life I could not
lay my hands upon it. This caused a frank and delightful remark on the
part of Miss Sheldon to Miss Brown.

"Does not Mr. Landor remind you of 'that other' eccentric gentleman that
came through here last year?"

The moment she had uttered the words Miss Sheldon saw what she had said,
and we all laughed heartily.

"You know, Mr. Landor," put in Miss Brown, "we half foresaw that you
would not be provided with these articles of luxury, and we brought our
own cups and saucers."

The news was a great relief to me.

"Well now, let me persuade you to take some delicious chocolate instead
of tea."

"Very good, we would prefer it. We have not had chocolate for a long
time."

[Illustration: HOUSE OF A WEALTHY SHOKA]

A solid block of chocolate was produced weighing twenty-eight pounds, and
Chanden Sing set to chip off bits with a stone--a primitive but effective
method. In the meantime the kettle was boiling, while my two visitors
made themselves as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances on
pack-saddle cases.

The tea party went off well, for the ladies, evidently suspecting the
"eccentricity" of their host, had come provided not only with cups and
saucers, but with spoons, cake, bread, butter, and biscuits!


[4] N.B.--Anglo-Indians very rarely condescend to shake hands with the
natives.




CHAPTER IX

     Discouraging reports--A steep ascent--How I came to deserve the
     name of "monkey"--Hard at work--Promoted in rank--Collapse in a
     gale of wind--Time and labour lost.


THE weather again became rainy and cold. The reports that I received of
the state of the roads farther up were not encouraging.

"The track is impassable," said an old Shoka who had just arrived from
Garbyang. "The Lippu Pass by which you wish to enter Tibet is still
closed, and there is much snow on it still. Then the Jong Pen of Taklakot
in Tibet, having been left unpunished for his last years' attack on
Lieutenant Gaussen, has now a strong guard of three hundred men to
prevent foreigners entering the country. The _Dakus_ (brigands) infesting
the region of the Mansarowar Lake seem to be more numerous this year than
ever."

I shall come in for a lively time, I thought to myself.

My next camp was at Shankula, 7450 feet above the sea level. It was
reached by going over a delightfully cool track, not unlike a shady path
through a picturesque park, among tall cedars of Lebanon, beeches and
maples, with here and there a stream or spring of water, and hundreds of
black-faced, white-bearded monkeys playing and leaping from tree to tree.

I encamped by the river. The day was glorious. In front of me, north-east
by east, stood, gigantic and majestic, some high snowy peaks. The valley
was narrow, and the remainder of the snowy range of mountains was hidden
from sight. What a lovely subject for a picture! I was tempted to halt
and get out my paint-box and sketch-book; and abandoning my lunch, which
was being cooked, I climbed to the summit of a high peak in order to
obtain a more extensive view. The ascent, first on slippery grass, then
over slaty rocks, was by no means easy, nor devoid of a certain amount of
danger; but so keen was I to get to the top that I reached the summit
very quickly, leaving half-way down the mountain slope the two men who
had followed me. In places near the top there were rocks to climb that
stood almost perpendicular, and it was necessary to use hands as well as
feet. It was not unlike climbing up a rough wall. I was nevertheless well
repaid for my trouble. The view from that high point of vantage was
magnificent, and I confess that I felt almost too ambitious when, having
unslung my paint-box, I attempted to reproduce on paper the scene before
me.

"I am a fool," said I to myself, "to try and paint that! What painter
could do those mountains justice?"

I dashed off the picture as usual very hastily, but never was a rash
venture rewarded with poorer result, and those eternal giants remained
unpainted.

Disconsolate, I made my way down. It was more difficult even than the
climb up. A false step, a slip, and it might have cost my life,
especially along the steep precipice, where I had to cling to anything
projecting in the wall-like rock. I had gone four thousand feet higher
than the camp, reaching an elevation of 11,450 feet above sea level.

It was this performance, watched anxiously from my camp down below, as
well as by the army of men belonging to the Deputy Commissioner of
Almora, who was also here encamped, that won me the name among the
natives of "Chota Sahib," the "Langur," the "small sir," the "monkey," a
name of which I have been proud ever since.

Some seventy-three miles from Pithoragarh the Shankula River enters the
Kali, the course of the Shankula being roughly from N.N.W. to S.S.E.

The track once crossed, the Shankula stream tends towards the South-East
and with a gentle incline rises to 8570 feet at Gibti, where I encamped
somewhat above the Gala Daramsalla. I had gone through forests of maple,
beech, oak and rhododendrons, with a thick undergrowth of scrub and
bamboo.

The Kali River, about two thousand feet down below my camp, marks the
boundary between Nepal and Kumaon. From this high point the foaming
stream can be seen for miles, winding between thickly wooded hills and
mountains like a silver ribbon on a dark reposeful background.

The march from my last camp was a very short one, so I had the greater
part of the day left for work. Previously I had usually halted in
Daramsallas (stone-walled shelters), and in default of these my men put
up for me a neatly-made "Chahna"[5] or "chöpper," a hut of mats and
branches of trees, in the construction of which the Paharis are
wonderfully dexterous. I had also my small "mountain tent," a _tente
d'abri_, quite comfortable enough for ordinary requirements.

[Illustration: THE TENT]

It seems, however, that this style of travelling is not considered _comme
il faut_ by the officials of India. It is the number and size of one's
tents, according to these authorities, that make one a greater or a
smaller gentleman! I had put up my tent--three feet high, seven feet
long, and four feet wide--by the side of the two double-leaf eighty pound
tents of the Deputy Commissioner, but this official and his companions
were far from pleased with this act of familiarity. For a double-tented
sahib to be seen in company of another sahib whose bijou tent rose from
the ground hardly up to one's waist, was _infra dig_ and a serious threat
to the prestige of the British in India. I was therefore politely
requested to move from my cosy quarters to a more dignified abode lent
me by the one-eyed Lal Sing, a Tokudar[6] and brother of the Patwari.[7]

Being thus promoted in everybody's estimation except my own, I wrote and
copied out my first article for _The Daily Mail_, and, having done this,
I dined and spent a pleasant evening with Mr. G.

The night was stormy; the wind shook my tent. I went to sleep wrapped in
my solitary camel-hair blanket. Some hours later a sharp knock on my head
woke me. It was the centre pole of the tent that had moved out of its
sockets and had fallen on me. This was followed by a rushing noise of
canvas, and I found myself in a moment uncovered and gazing at the stars.

There were white things flying about in the air, and, to my horror, I
discovered the leaves of my _Daily Mail_ article scattered in the wind.

I jumped up, but of the ten or twelve foolscap leaves on very thin paper,
I only managed to recover two or three. The others soared gracefully to
and fro in the air, and I suppose settled eventually in the Kali. This
meant recopying the article next day, a tedious job when you are burning
to get on.

The sun rose. The camp began to wake up. All were shivering with cold. I
took my usual cold bath surrounded by a half-frozen crowd of astonished
onlookers, wrapped up in their thick woollen blankets, crouching round me
with their chins on their knees.

The tent was recovered after a while, and soon all was ready to start.


[5] _Chahna_--Pahari. _Chöpper_, Dehsi--Hindustani.

[6] _Tokudar_--Head-village man.

[7] _Patwari_--Accountant for a Pargana.




CHAPTER X

     The _Nerpani_, or "waterless track"--Exaggerated accounts--A long
     shot--The rescue of two coolies--Picturesque Nature--An
     involuntary shower-bath--The _Chai_ Pass.


THE renowned _Nerpani_, or _Nerpania_, "waterless track," begins at
Gibti. Very few travellers have been on this road, and by the accounts
brought back many people have been prevented from imitating their
example.

[Illustration: THE NERPANI ROAD]

Personally I found the track far better than I anticipated. I have been
on worse mountain roads among less precipitous cliffs. From what I had
heard it seemed as if the greater part of the road for several miles was
supported on crowbars fixed in the rock, but such is not the case. Here
and there, however, are found along the track spots overhanging
precipices; and where the perpendicular cliff did not allow of a road to
be cut except at great expense, crowbars have been more or less firmly
planted horizontally in the rock, and a narrow path made over them with
large slabs of stone. The drop from the path to the river is often from
eighteen hundred to two thousand feet, and the path is in many places no
wider than six inches. But to any surefooted traveller that would not
constitute a real danger. The road is tedious, for the Nerpania cliff
along which it has been constructed is subdivided into three smaller
cliffs, separated in turn one from the other by ravines. It is thus
troublesome to climb up and down some thousands of feet, each time along
interminable and badly put together flights of steps, only to descend
again on the other side. Some of the descents, especially the last to
Gulamla, are precipitous, but with no nails in one's shoes and no stick
in one's hand, there is really very little danger for people accustomed
to mountaineering.

These are the main elevations on the road: Gibti, 8650 feet, 6750 feet,
7600 feet, 6700 feet, 7100 feet, 6600 feet from Gulamla. At bearings
magnetic 350°, going close to the river-bed through a gorge, one obtains
a fine view of a huge gneiss peak towering on the left side of the
_Neganza_ or _Nejangar_ Mountain. This peculiar rock, shaped like a
fortress, goes by the name of the Ladjekut Peak and rises where the
Nejangar River meets the Kali. Here we pitched our tents.

[Illustration: THE NERPANI ROAD]

Towards sunset there was much agitation in camp over the appearance of
wild goats on the other side of the Kali River in Nepal.

"Your rifle, Sahib, your rifle!" shouted a chorus of impatient natives.
"Quick, quick, your rifle!"

I seized my Mannlicher and followed the excited gang to a place some
hundred yards away, where a large boisterous crowd had collected to watch
the game.

[Illustration: THE NERPANI ROAD]

"Where are they?" said I, as I could not see anything.

"There, there!" they all screamed at the top of their voices, pointing to
the summit of the opposite cliff over four hundred yards distant.

"Oh, that is too far."

"No, no, Sahib, please shoot," they all implored.

[Illustration: THE NERPANI TRACK]

I put up the Lyman back-sight to four hundred yards, took aim and fired.
Down came rolling from rock to rock the poor wild goat, amid the frantic
excitement of the crowd around me. It rolled down until it came to the
shrub and vegetation, where its progress became slower. It fell on the
small trees and, bending them by its weight, it would drop a few seconds
later on to a lower one. The trepidation on our side was intense. At last
the graceful body stuck across a bigger tree and swung on it for some
minutes. The oscillation slowly ceased, and tree and goat became
motionless. There our prey stuck fast.

[Illustration: THE CHAI-LEK PASS]

Hatchets were immediately produced, and two tall trees hurriedly cut and
felled. A bridge was being spanned to cross the dangerous cold and swift
waters of the Kali. A tree was thrown across, and its point just about
reached a high rock on the other side. Then, amidst a dead silence, a
coolie balanced himself over it. He had nearly reached the opposite bank
when there was a crash. The tree broke, and the man was in the water,
frightened and screaming pitifully, clutching a branch with convulsive
fingers.

Another coolie went to his rescue, but the tree being now swung by the
current, he also was pitched into the water. It was only after a terrible
moment of suspense that our men had the common sense to draw the tree
back towards the shore. One and all joined in a supreme effort, and the
two men were eventually saved.

[Illustration: A NARROW GORGE BETWEEN TWO MOUNTAINS]

Our way to the next camp was first through a high narrow gorge. A
beautiful waterfall on terraces faced us. From 6700 feet, the road
ascended to 7650 feet, then on flights of steps and in places over
crowbars the weary traveller descended to 7000 feet, where at Malpa the
road was for a space nearly level. The Malpa River, running from North to
South, was crossed. On the Nepal side across the Kali the vegetation was
luxuriant, while on the Kumaon side it was sparse and bare. Farther on
another beautiful waterfall.

The track now rose on a steep incline to 8120 feet among huge rocks and
boulders. What with the gigantic snow-peaks, the pretty waterfalls, the
weird character of the country traversed, one got so interested in one's
surroundings that one forgot all about any difficulty of climbing. From
barren hills and rocks the track suddenly became clayish and sandy, and
in a series of zigzags well shaded by _Tchuk, Utish_, and _Ritch_ trees,
with a thick undergrowth of scrub wood and stunted vegetation, we found
ourselves down as low as 6750 feet, ascending immediately after in a very
short distance to 8100 feet to Camp Lahmari.

In olden times the path went over the highest part of the cliff, and it
took a good walker the whole day to reach from one spring of water to the
next, hence the name of "waterless."

Here practically ended the _Nerpani_ (waterless track), and an
involuntary shower-bath soon awaited the passer-by, drenching him to the
skin, unless he was provided with waterproof and umbrella. The spray
descended from a great height for a length of some thirty or forty yards,
the road being very narrow and very slippery, so that progress was
particularly slow. The name of the waterfall was _Takti_.

The track, if not more level, was nevertheless better after this to the
sore-footed walker. It was less rocky and devoid of the tiresome flights
of steps.

On leaving Lahmari we immediately had a steep rise to 9600 feet. Then a
drop of 400 feet, and we found ourselves on the Buddi River, a tributary
of the Kali. Just above the bridge was a magnificent waterfall, by the
left side of which we found a kind of grotto hollowed out under a rock.
The Shokas and Tibetans used it as a camping ground.

To our right, high up on the cliffside, was the picturesque village of
Buddi (9300 feet), with its two- and three-storeyed houses. Below and
over it in long zigzags could be seen the track ascending to the top of
_Chai-Lek_, or _Tcheto_ Pass as the Shokas call it. At bearings magnetic
170° we had the towering Namjun peak, so high that I was told it could be
seen even from Almora and Ranikhet.

Then as we proceeded up the steep clayish track, I could not, on looking
back, help admiring the magnificent Kali valley with its gigantic cliffs
and gorges surmounted by lofty snow peaks. On the _Chai_ Pass the two
aneroids I had on me registered an altitude of 11,190 feet. I was now on
a small flat tableland. Darcy Bura, the richest Shoka trader from Buddi,
had erected here a bargain-house for the purchase and exchange of borax,
salt, wool, and other articles from Tibet. On the left side of the road a
large cave in the rock had been walled and partly roofed over for the use
of wife-seekers from the villages of Buddi and Garbyang. These houses
were called _Rambangs_, and were an old institution among the Shokas, of
which I shall have occasion to speak at length later on. As everywhere
else, a few high poles with flying prayers and a bell had been placed
near the pass.




CHAPTER XI

     A series of misfortunes--Tibetan atrocities on British
     subjects--Tibetan exactions--Revolting cruelty to one of her
     Majesty's subjects--Assault on a British officer--A smart British
     Envoy.


MY arrival at Garbyang was watched by hundreds of men, women, and
children, all squatting on the edge of the flat mud roofs of their
habitations, while a few dozen people followed me respectfully to my
camping ground beyond the village. A large tent had been put up for me by
Pundit Gobaria's brother, who had been informed of my coming by Anti Ram
Sah, my banker at Almora. Mr. G., Deputy Commissioner, arrived later.

I was very anxious to make immediate arrangements to enter Tibet, but all
my efforts to obtain reliable followers were of little avail.

I heard to my regret, a day or two later, that the plan of my journey,
which with so much trouble and care I had kept secret, had been divulged
to the Tibetan authorities. Misfortunes never come singly! Against my
will I had been advised to pay a certain sum at Almora, in exchange for
which I received a letter of credit on Pundit Gobaria, a rich trader of
Garbyang, who was to pay me the amount in silver. Unluckily, Gobaria was
still absent in Nepal, and no one else could cash a cheque for the amount
I wanted. This was tiresome--all the more so as I had counted on the
money. I immediately sent a runner to Almora to have the sum in silver
sent at once. This involved much publicity and considerable risk.

Also delay was inevitable. All the passes were closed and fresh snow was
falling daily. It was just possible with much difficulty for a man to
cross the Lippu Pass, but no baggage could be taken through. I made up my
mind to remain a few days in Garbyang, and took this opportunity to have
a large Tibetan tent manufactured to shelter my future followers--if
ever I could find any--and it might help me, I calculated, to become
friendly with the natives, among whom I hoped to find some willing
followers.

[Illustration: THE GATES OF GARBYANG]

Doctor H. Wilson, of the Methodist Evangelical Mission, went to much
trouble in trying to get together men for me, but though his influence
was and is considerable in Bias and Chaudas, his efforts were not crowned
with success. The Shokas know well how terribly cruel the Tibetans are.
They have suffered at their hands more than once, and even of recent
years the Government of India has had reported by its own officers cases
of horrible tortures inflicted by the Tibetan authorities on British
subjects captured by them on our side of the frontier. Some of the
atrocities committed by the Lamas on British subjects are revolting, and
it is a matter of great regret and indignation to the Englishmen who
visit these regions to think that the weakness of our officials in Kumaon
has allowed and is allowing such proceedings still to go on. So incapable
are they, in fact, that the Jong Pen of Taklakot in Tibet sends over,
"with the sanction of the Government of India," his yearly emissaries to
collect Land Revenue[8] from British subjects living on British soil. The
Shokas have to pay this tribute, and do so out of fear--in addition to
other taxes and trade dues iniquitously exacted by the Tibetans.

On the slightest pretext the Tibetans arrest, torture mercilessly, fine,
and confiscate property of, British subjects on British territory.

At the time of my visit there could be seen, in Garbyang and other
villages, British subjects (Shokas) who had been mutilated by the Tibetan
authorities.

Even Dr. H. Wilson, who had erected a dispensary at Gungi (one march
beyond Garbyang), was lately threatened with confiscation--and worse
perhaps--if he did not immediately comply with the exactions of the
Tibetans. He declined to do so and reported the matter to the Government,
relying on a good rifle in the house and his many servants. His
determination not to be intimidated seems to have given him temporary
security, for the Tibetans are as cowardly, when they think themselves
matched, as they are cruel.

Let me quote one example of cruelty which occurred as late as 1896. A
Shoka trader, undeniably a British subject, had gone over the border, as
is customary with them during the summer, to dispose of his merchandise
on the Tibetan market. He and another Shoka, also a British subject, had
a quarrel. Aware that the first Shoka was wealthy, the Tibetan
authorities took this pretext to arrest him and impose upon him an
exorbitant fine, besides the additional punishment of two hundred lashes
to be administered to him by order of the Jong Pen. The Shoka
remonstrated on the plea that he had done no harm, and that being a
British subject they had no right to so punish him. The Jong Pen saw his
orders executed, and further commanded his men to cut off the wretched
prisoner's hands. He was made over to two soldiers entrusted with the
carrying out of the sentence. They led him away to the place of
punishment. The Shoka was of a powerful build and possessed courage.
Though half dead and covered with wounds, he overcame his guardians and
escaped. The alarm was instantly given and a large party of horsemen sent
to capture him.

They caught him up, and when at close range fired on him and wounded him
in the knee, smashing the kneecap. He was surrounded, pounced upon,
beaten mercilessly, and last but not least, all his fingers were one by
one crushed into pulp between two heavy stones. In this condition he was
dragged before the Lamas, only to be decapitated! Mr. Sturt, an able and
just officer, who was then Deputy Commissioner at Almora, became
acquainted with these facts, and, having fully ascertained their
accuracy, reported them to the Government, strongly advising immediate
action against the Tibetans for this and other cruelties that were
constantly taking place on our frontier. Though it was undeniably proved
that the victim was a British subject, the Government of India took no
steps in the matter.

The same year, 1896, Lieutenant Gaussen, who on a shooting trip tried to
enter Tibet by the Lippu Pass, was surrounded by Tibetan soldiers, and he
and his servants were seriously ill-treated. The British officer received
a nasty wound on his forehead, and one of his servants, who behaved
heroically, was so cruelly handled that to-day, two years later, I hear
he is still an invalid.

[Illustration: MATAN SING CHAPRASSI]

[Illustration: NARENGHIRI CHAPRASSI]

[Illustration: GARBYANG]

Mr. J. Larkin, Deputy Collector at Almora, was then despatched to the
frontier. No better man could have been sent. Firm, just, and
painstaking, he became popular and much respected among the Shokas. He
listened to their troubles and sufferings; he administered justice
wherever possible. He refused audience to no one, and during his flying
visit became well acquainted with the country, the people, and all that
went on. The poor Shokas felt much relieved, thinking that at last the
Tibetan abuses would be put an end to. They were not mistaken, at least
for a time. The Jong Pen of Taklakot was called upon to answer for his
many misdeeds. He refused an interview. Mr. Larkin sent word across the
border that he would have no trifling and that he must come, upon which
the Jong Pen, with his officers and Lamas, crossed the snowy Lippu Pass.
Trembling with fear and bending low to the ground, the Tibetans, with
abject servility, entered the tent of our British envoy. The account of
the interview, which I received in full from a Shoka gentleman who was
present as interpreter, is amusing and curious, showing the mutability
and hypocrisy of the Tibetans. In the long run, and being well acquainted
with the cowardice of his visitors, Mr. Larkin not only obtained redress
on every point but gave the Jong Pen and his officers a severe harangue.
The result of the interview was that the collection of the Land Revenue
should be put a stop to, and that Tibetan law should no more be
administered on our side of the frontier.

Mr. Larkin's visit to Bhot was cut short by urgent orders to return
immediately to Almora.

The following year (the year of my visit, 1897), Mr. G., Deputy
Commissioner, undid much that the previous officer had accomplished. The
Jong Pen, when summoned, declined to come, and sent over deputies in his
place. The upshot of it is, that Land Revenue is again paid by the Shokas
to the Tibetan tax-collectors through the Peshkar.

I have mentioned these facts as representative of many, and to show how
it came that the natives, who had never had any protection from our
Government, were disinclined, notwithstanding the temptations I offered
them, to brave the dangers of Tibet. I, who later on suffered so much
through being betrayed by Shokas, am the first to forgive and not to
blame them. Though nominally our subjects, their actual rulers are the
Tibetans, and we do nothing to protect them against the exactions and
tortures of the intruders. Why then should we expect them to be faithful
to us? The Shokas are not treacherous by nature, but they are compelled
to be deceitful to protect their lives and their homes. Properly treated,
these honest, gentle, good-natured mountaineers would assuredly become
loyal and trustworthy subjects of her Majesty.


[8] The sums are now collected by the Political Peskhar and handed over
in Garbyang to the Tibetans.




CHAPTER XII

     Tibetan threats--My birthday--Ravenous dogs--A big dinner--Shoka
     hospitality.


THE Jong Pen of Taklakot, on hearing of my proposed visit, sent threats
that he would confiscate the land of any man who came in my employ,
besides menaces of "flogging" and subsequent "beheading" of myself and
any one caught with me. Personally I paid little attention to these
intimidations.

Consulting the calendar one day--a thing I did with great regularity in
these regions--I made out that it was the first of June, and I then
remembered that the following day would be my birthday. Feasts were
scarce in these high altitudes, and the prospect before me was that they
would in the near future be even scarcer. It therefore occurred to me
that I could not better while away a day at least of this weary waiting
than by treating myself to a real big feast.

[Illustration: THE HOUSE WHERE I STAYED AT GARBYANG]

Chanden Sing was despatched round the village to summon up to my tent all
the local Bunyas (tradespeople). Rice, flour, eight pounds of butter
(_ghi_), a large quantity of lump sugar, pepper, salt, and a fat sheep
were purchased. The latter was forthwith beheaded, skinned, and dressed
in the approved fashion by the faithful Chanden Sing, who was indeed a
jack of all trades.

Unfortunately, I am a careless house or rather tent keeper, and I
entrusted my chaprassis with the job of stowing away the provisions, for
which purpose a recess under the native low bedstead served to
perfection, holding as it did the different-sized vessels, with the
_bachri_ (sheep) in pieces, and the rice, flour, butter, etc.

While this was being done, I worked away hard at writing, and getting
interested, continued at it till an early hour of the morning; I got
tired at last, and, wrapping myself up in my blanket, I soon went to
sleep next to a heap of stones piled up by the cautious Chanden Sing.

"Sahib," had been his warning, "there are many hungry dogs about. If they
come, here are a few missiles ready for them!" and he pointed at the
ammunition.

"All right; good-night."

The wisdom of this was soon apparent, for I had not slept long when I was
aroused by the hollow sound of lip-smacking, apparently arising from more
than one mouth, accompanied by the movement of the stretched canvas bed
on which I was lying. Jumping to my feet, I alighted upon a living mass
of unwelcome guests; but before I even realised what had been going on,
they had scampered away, the brutes! carrying between their
tightly-closed jaws a last mouthful of my dainties.

The ammunition at my disposal was quickly used up--a poor revenge, even
when I heard the yell of a dog I happened to hit in the dark. On striking
a match, I found the large brass bowls emptied, the rice and flour
scattered all over the tent, and the sheep practically vanished.

I determined not to be done out of this piece of indulgence, which now
seemed desirable beyond words, although I crawled back into my blanket,
and found for a while oblivion in sleep. I was no sooner up in the
morning than I planned a new banquet. But in the nick of time, Mr. G.,
who had gone a march farther, returned with his escort of policemen,
_moonshees_, pundits, and chaprassis.

"Never mind, Landor," said he kindly, when I had told him of my trouble,
"you come and dine with me. These chaps shall get you up a special dinner
in their own way."

My stores were put under tribute, instead of the native Bunyas, and we
had a very excellent meal indeed. We had Bovril soup and Irish stew,
roast mutton, potted tongue, roast chicken, gigantic swan eggs poached on
anchovy toast, jam omelette, chow-chow preserves, ginger biscuits, boiled
rhubarb, and I must not forget, by the way, an excellent plum cake of no
small dimensions, crammed full of raisins and candy, which I had brought
from Mrs. G. at Almora to her husband, and to which we did, with
blessings for her, the fullest justice.

[Illustration: SHOKA HOUSE WITH STRANGE LADDER]

Thanks to Mr. G. and also to the fortunate coincidence of receiving a
batch of letters from parents and friends, which reached me on that day
by runner from Khela, I do not think that I could have spent a happier
birthday anywhere, and I knew well enough that these were to be the last
moments of contentment--an end to the fleshpots of Egypt. After this I
should be cut off from civilisation, from comfort even in its primitive
form; and to emphasise this fact, it happened that on the very morning
following my birthday, Mr. G. left and continued his journey to Almora.

[Illustration: SHOKA HOUSES]

The weather was cold and rain fell in torrents, the thermometer being
never above 52° during the warmest hours of the day. My soaked tent stood
in a regular pool of water, notwithstanding the double trenches round it,
and several Shoka gentlemen had before asked me to abandon it and live in
a house. They were all most anxious to extend to me hospitality, which I,
not wishing to trouble them, and in order at all hazards to be entirely
free and unhampered in my actions, courteously but firmly declined.
Nevertheless, quite a deputation arrived on June 4, renewing their
request; but I was determined to have my way. In vain! They would not see
a Sahib under cold canvas while they themselves had comfortable homes.
They held a consultation. Unexpectedly, and notwithstanding my
remonstrances, my loads were suddenly seized and carried triumphantly on
the backs of a long row of powerful Shokas towards the village. I had to
follow _nolens volens_, and from that day on I grew through constant
contact daily more convinced of the genuine friendliness and
kindheartedness of these people.

To prevent my coming back, they even pulled down the tent, and, wet as it
was, carried it away. Zeheram and Jaimal, two leading Shokas, held my
hands and patted me on the back as they led me with every sign of
courtesy to my new dwelling.

This turned out to be a fine two-storeyed building with nicely carved
wooden door and windows coloured red and green. So great was the anxiety
and fear of these good people that I should turn back at this juncture,
that some twenty outstretched hands seized me by the arms, while others
pushed me from behind up a flight of ten or twelve steps into the house,
where I found myself the guest of my good friend Zeheram. I was given the
front of the first floor, consisting of two large clean rooms, with a
very fair native bedstead, a table and two or more _moras_ (round cane
stools covered with skin); and I had no sooner realised that I must stay
than presents of sweets, preserved fruit, dried dates, and tea were
brought for my acceptance--tea made in the Tibetan fashion with butter
and salt in it.

Even if at first I had had slight apprehensions at the expression of such
very unusual hospitality, these were soon dispelled, and I was proud to
be assured by my host that I was the first Englishman (or for that,
European or American) who had been allowed to enter the living part of a
Shoka house and partake of food in a Shoka dwelling. The opportunity was
too good to be lost, and I was sorely tempted to tarry among them, so as
really to get an insight into their mode of living, their customs and
manners.

[Illustration: SHOKA CHILD SMEARED WITH BUTTER WHICH IS LEFT TO BE
ABSORBED IN THE SUN]




CHAPTER XIII

     Shoka hospitality--How I obtained much information--On a
     reconnoitring trip--A terrible slide.


THEY are indeed Nature's gentlemen, these worthy Shokas, and as such they
did all in their power to make my stay among them pleasant. It was a
contest between them as to who should entertain me first, and who should
be the next. Invitations to breakfast and dinner literally poured in; and
those convenient "sick headaches," "colds," and "previous engagements,"
so opportune in more conventional parts, were of no avail here. No
card--no friendly note bade one to come and be merry. They generally
arrived _en masse_ to fetch me. Pulling and pushing played a not
unimportant part in their urging, and to decline was thus out of the
question. Indeed I must confess there was but little inclination to
decline on my part. When you arrived, your host spread out fine mats and
rugs, of Tibetan and ancient Chinese manufacture, and often of great
value. In front of a raised seat were displayed in shiny brass bowls the
various viands and delicacies which constituted the meal. There was rice
always; there was curried mutton, milk and curd with sugar; then
_chapatis_ made in Hindustani fashion and _Shale_, a kind of sweet
pancake made of flour, _ghi_ (butter), sugar or honey, also _Parsad_, a
thick paste of honey, burnt sugar, butter and flour, all well cooked
together--a dainty morsel even for a jaded palate.

I was invariably made to sit on the raised seat, which I did
cross-legged, while the crowd squatted respectfully on the floor round
the room, forming a semicircle with me in the center. I generally ate
with my fingers in their own manner, a courtesy they particularly
appreciated, and although I must have seemed awkward to them at first, I
soon acquired a sort of dexterity in manipulating hot food--meat and
vegetables, for instance--with my hand. The trick is not very difficult,
but it requires practice. You gather up your five fingers downwards in
the dish, seizing a mouthful, and with a rapid circular twist of the hand
you collect as much sauce as you can round the morsel you have caught.
With a still more rapid movement, and before anything has time to drip
between your fingers, you half drop and half throw it into your mouth.

[Illustration: SHOKA CHILD BEING SMEARED WITH BUTTER]

I soon found that I could, during these cordial repasts, enlivened as
they were by moderate libations of _chökti_ and _syrap_ (wine and spirit
distilled from wheat), acquire considerable knowledge of anthropological
and ethnological interest, and gather also much valuable information
about Tibet and its people. They became, in fact, in the few days I spent
among them, confiding to such a degree, and looked upon me so much as one
of themselves, that I soon obtained the run of the whole place. They came
to confide their grievances and troubles; they related to me their
legends and folk-lore. They sang to me their weird songs and taught me
their dances. They brought me to their marriages and strange funerals;
they took me to their sick men, women, and children, or conveyed them to
me for cure. Thus, to my delight, and with such unique chances, my
observations of a pathological, physiological, and anatomical character
became more interesting to me day by day, and I have attempted to
describe in a later chapter some of the things I was able to note.

[Illustration: THE MASTER OF A HIGH SCHOOL ALTITUDE 10,940 FEET]

After lingering in Garbyang for several days, I paid off my two
chaprassis, Matan Sing and Narenghiri, and they returned to Almora.

On June 6 I started on a journey towards the frontier, with a view to
reconnoitre.

Crossing into Nepal territory below Chongur village, and following
upwards the right bank of the Kali River in a direction of 320° (bearings
magnetic) I reached Kanwa, a Shoka village on a high cliff-like plateau
under which meet the three rivers Kali, Taki, and Kuti. The Kali turns
suddenly to 37° (bearings magnetic), while the Kuti River keeps a general
direction of 325° (bearings magnetic).

Having crossed again into Kumaon, I struck camp at Gungi. Before entering
the village, I passed Dr. Wilson's dispensary, not then completed. In the
village the houses were decorated with long poles joined by strings, from
which hung and flew gaily in the breeze hundreds of wind prayers. The
dwellings were mostly of the ancient, pure Shoka architecture, and not so
fine or so clean as those in Garbyang. The place was picturesque,
clear-cut against the curious background of the dome-like mountain, the
Nabi Shankom, a peak of uncommon beauty with its grey and reddish striped
strata. Near it on another mountain is the Gungi Shankom, a gigantic
quadrangular rock of a warm yellow and reddish colour, not unlike a huge
tower. When I reached its foot, the sun was casting his last dying rays
on it, and the picture was so magical that I was tempted to sketch it. As
I sat there, the shadow of the coming night rose higher and higher on
the mountain-side, tinting it violet blue, and above it the Gungi Shankom
stood resplendent in all its glory like a tower of fire--till night
descended covering the mountain first, and little by little the Gungi
Shankom itself. I shall not easily forget this sight.

[Illustration: GUNGI SHANKOM]

I slept under my little _tente d'abri_ and found it delightfully cosy and
warm.

At 10 A.M. the next day I raised camp. The elevation here was 10,940
feet. Interesting was the _Chiram_, a collection of tombs, five in
number, made of slabs of white stone with poles placed vertically upon
them, and from the summit of which hung flying prayers. The Kuti River to
my left was wide and rapid. On the opposite bank the village of Ronkan
(11,100 feet) made a pretty _vis-à-vis_ to the Nabi village on our side
of the stream, at the same elevation, and directly under the lee of the
Nabi Shankom.

As I rose gradually along the river course the vegetation grew sparse,
and in front of me there remained nothing but barren rocks and high snowy
peaks. The spot where, from opposite sides, the Gunkan River and the Nail
River throw themselves into the Kuti River is most picturesque. There are
on the water's edge a few pine-trees, but above there is nothing but
wilderness--rock and ice and snow.

I soon came upon much snow, and places where the track along the
mountain-side was undiscoverable. Walking was tiresome enough on the
loose shingle and shale, but it became worse when I actually had to cut
each step into the frozen snow. The work was tedious to a degree, and
the progress slow. After a while I noticed a series of lofty snow
tunnels over the raging stream, which is earlier in the season covered
entirely by a vault of ice and snow. The higher I got the harder and more
slippery grew the snow. The soles of my shoes having become soaked and
frozen made walking very difficult. At 12,000 feet, being about three
hundred feet above the stream, I had to cross a particularly extensive
snow-field, hard frozen and rising at a very steep angle. Some of my
coolies had gone ahead, the others were behind. Notwithstanding the track
cut by those ahead, it was necessary to re-cut each step with one's own
feet, so as to prevent slipping. This was best done by hammering several
times into the white sheet with the point of one's shoe until a cavity
was made deep enough to contain the foot and to support one upright. It
ought to be done carefully each time, but I fear I had not the patience
for that. I thought I had found a quicker method, and by raising my knee
high, I struck the snow with my heel, leaving my foot planted until the
other one had by the same process cut the next step.

[Illustration: ZAZZELA MOUNT, NEAR GUNGI]

[Illustration: INVOLUNTARY TOBOGGANING]

It was in giving one of these vigorous thumps that I hit a spot where,
under a thin coating of snow, was hard ice. My foot, failing in its
grip, slipped, and the impulse caused me to lose my balance. I slid down
the steep incline at a terrific pace, accompanied in my involuntary
tobogganing over ice and snow by the screams of my horror-stricken
coolies. I realised that in another moment I should be pitched into the
stream, which would have meant being carried under the long tunnel of ice
to meet certain death beneath it. In those few seconds I found time to
speculate even as to whether those stones by the water's edge would stop
me, or whether the impetus must fling me past them into the river. I
attempted to get a grip in the snow with my frozen fingers, to stem
myself with my heels, but with no success, when I saw ahead of me a large
stone rising above the snow. With desperate tension of every nerve and
muscle, I knew as I approached it, with the foaming water yonder, that it
was my only hope. I consciously straightened my legs for the contact. The
bump was tremendous, and seemed to shatter every bone in my body. But it
stopped me, and I was saved only a few feet from the water's
edge--miraculously, although fearfully bruised, with no bones broken.

[Illustration: CHIRAM]

My fingers were cut by the ice and bleeding. When I was able to stand, I
signalled to the frightened and wailing coolies above to go on, and I
myself proceeded along the watercourse until I found a spot from which I
could regain the upper track.




CHAPTER XIV

     A palaver--To see is to believe--Dangers and perils on the snow
     and ice--_Thar_ and _Ghural_--Stalking--A tiring climb to 16,000
     feet--The collapse of a snow bridge.


AT Kuti I halted and summoned the leading natives to my tent.

Would it be possible, I asked them, to get over the Lumpiya Pass or the
still higher Mangshan? The first is a rarely frequented pass on the way
to Gyanema, the other a high and most difficult pass by which it is
possible, though not easy, to reach the Rakstal Lake by the jungle
without going near a Tibetan settlement or encampment.

"No," was the decided answer from all the Shokas. "The snow is now too
deep. Fresh snow falls daily. For another fortnight at least no human
being can get across. To attempt it will mean losing one's life. At their
best during one month in summer, those two passes are arduous and
dangerous. Now it would be mere folly to attempt their ascent."

With my distressingly sceptical nature I believe little that I do not
see. I started next morning to observe for myself. My bearings were
roughly North-West. Seeing me determined, several of the Kutial Shokas
changed their mind and volunteered to follow me. They were of
considerable help in many dangerous places. Here and there a few paces of
narrow track were uncovered, otherwise we went long distances on frozen
snow, over precipices down which it was almost fatal to look.

The lucky hairbreadth escape of the previous day contributed to make me
lose confidence, not in myself, but in that white emblem of purity and
innocence, in reality the most treacherous substance in creation. I soon
found that wherever there was snow there was trouble. In spots where the
snow was particularly hard frozen we dared not attempt to walk on the
steep slippery surface, and we had to descend to the river, which was
here bridged over completely with ice and snow. Crossing, we would
attempt progress on the other side, and having proceeded with difficulty
for a few hundred yards, had to retrace our steps and try the first bank
again. We thus crossed and recrossed the Kuti River more than
half-a-dozen times, each crossing being preceded by a precipitous descent
and immediately followed by a steep ascent. The cracks in the ice by the
water-side were constant and perilous, and we did not risk remaining near
them longer than was necessary. In six or seven hours we had walked a
distance of less than four miles. Leaving the Kuti River and following
due North the course of a tributary, the Kambelshio, we crossed over to
its farther bank and pitched our tents at an altitude of 13,420 feet.

[Illustration: KUTI]

[Illustration: SNOW BRIDGES OVER THE KUTI RIVER]

There remained a few hours of daylight when we arrived, and I employed
them by going after _Thar_ or _Tehr_ and _Ghural_ (Himahlyan chamois) a
couple of miles farther. I rose to 15,000 feet on a needle-like peak
towering over the spot where, in a narrow picturesque gorge, the Tongzu
pangti enters the Kuti River. The sources of the Tongzu pangti are about
a thousand feet higher than the spot where it meets the Kuti River, and
the stream has its birth from the melting snows, descending precipitously
and in a very short distance into the larger river.

The rocks are here furred with saltpetre, and it is said to be a
favourite spot for Thar.[9]

[Illustration: OLD SHOKA WOMAN SMOKING]

I enjoyed my trip so much that, rising with the sun, I started on the
following morning to repeat my experience. Moreover, I wanted to climb to
some high point wherefrom I could make certain whether it was possible
to proceed immediately across the Himahlyan range, or whether it was
advisable to wait patiently until the snow had to some extent
disappeared. I walked four miles from camp, reaching an altitude of
16,000 feet. The ascent was rather tiring. Having wounded a Thar, I went
after it up a fatiguing snow-field at a speed too great to be comfortable
at such a very high elevation. When I reached the top, I was out of
breath and the Thar too far off for a second shot.

The view this high point commanded was stupendous. For miles and
miles--and it seemed hundreds of miles--snow, snow, nothing but snow!
There stood Jolinkan Mount rising above 19,000 feet. On either side of
the Kuti River were peaks as high as 20,000 feet and more. Here and there
the white sheet that covered the surrounding country seemed almost
greenish. Those spots were glaciers, and I saw many of them, feeding as
they do the numerous streams flowing into the Kuti River. I returned to
camp for lunch. It was useless to proceed and even more useless remaining
still. I gave orders to raise the camp, and at 2 P.M. we were under way
back to Kuti.

The day had been an unusually warm one, and the surface of the snow, so
hard the previous day, was now soft and watery. Several of the snow
bridges had already disappeared.

I had descended to the river preceded by some of my coolies. Two of them
just in front of me were crossing over the stream on a thick and broad
archway of ice. I was waiting for them to be safely across. When the men
had nearly reached the other side they noticed a peculiar vibration
underfoot. Scrambling away as best they could, they gave the alarm.

I drew back hastily. In the nick of time! for with a deafening roar like
magnified thunder echoed from cliff to cliff, down went the bridge. The
huge pieces of ice, only a moment before forming part of the vault, were
now swept away by the furious stream and thrown with tremendous force
against the next bridge, which quivered under the terrible clash.

Three days' marching over the same route brought me back to Garbyang.


[9] The _Gural_ is the Himahlyan chamois found at even comparatively low
elevations. They are generally seen in herds, with the exception of the
oldest males, which are usually met with alone. It is not uncommon to see
as many as eight or ten together, especially during their feeding time,
shortly after sunrise and an hour or two before sunset.

Tehr or Thar (male) and Jahral (female) is the true and proper wild goat
of the higher Himahlyan range. It is rarely found lower than 7000 feet
and often as high as 15,000 feet above sea level. Those found at lower
elevations do not possess quite such a luxuriant growth of hair, nor, I
am told, are their curved horns quite so long. They climb about
precipices and dangerous spots with the greatest ease.




CHAPTER XV

     An earthquake--Curious notions of the natives--A Shoka tailor and
     his ways--The arrival of silver cash--Two rocks in the
     Kali--Arrogance of a Tibetan spy.


ON hearing that Dr. Wilson was now in Garbyang I went to call upon him.
Squatted on soft Chinese and Tibetan mats and rugs, we were enjoying cup
after cup of tea and devouring _chapatis_, when suddenly the whole
building began to shake and rumble in the queerest manner, upsetting
teapot and milk and sending the _chapatis_ roaming to and fro all over
the room.

Leaving Dr. Wilson to save our precious beverage, I pulled out watch and
compass to notice duration and direction of the shock. It was undulatory,
very violent, and oscillating from S.S.W. to N.N.E. The duration was
exactly four minutes two seconds. The earthquake began at 5.20 P.M. and
ended at 5h. 24m. 2s.

"It strikes me that it would have been wise to have gone out of the
house," said I. "It is a wonder the building did not collapse. My cup is
full of mud and débris from the ceiling."[10]

"I have saved the tea for you!" said the Doctor, triumphantly lifting in
his muscular hands the teapot, which he had carefully nursed. He had soon
discovered my devotion to the yellow liquid.

We were quietly going on with our refreshment when a band of excited
Shokas broke into the room.

"Sahib! Sahib! where has it gone?" cried they in a chorus, stretching
their hands towards me and then folding them in sign of prayer. "Sahib!
tell us where it has gone!"

"What?" rejoined I, amused at their suspense.

"Did you not feel the earth shake and quiver?" exclaimed the astounded
visitors.

"Oh yes, but that is nothing."

"Oh no, Sahib! That is the precursory notice of some great calamity. The
'spirit' under the earth is waking up and is shaking its back."

"I would rather it shook its back than mine," said I jokingly.

[Illustration: A WELL-ATTENDED SCHOOL]

"Or mine," added the Doctor lightly, much to the astonishment of our
awestricken callers.

"Which way did it go?" repeated the impatient Shokas.

I pointed towards the N.N.E. and they gave a sigh of satisfaction. It
must have proceeded to the other side of the Himahlyas.

It appears, according to the primitive notions of the Shokas, that inside
the earth lives in a torpid condition an evil spirit in the shape of a
gigantic reptile. The rumbling preceding an earthquake is, to the Shoka
mind, nothing else than the heavy breathing of the monster previous to
waking, whereas the actual shock is caused by the brute stretching its
limbs. When fully awake the serpent-like demon darts and forces its way
in one direction, compelling the earth to quake all along its
subterranean passage, often causing by so violent a procedure great
damage to property and loss of life, not to speak of the fear and terror
which it strikes in man and beast, should the capricious spirit by chance
make a return journey to the spot below the earth's crust directly
underfoot. It is curious and interesting, in analysing these crude
notions, to find that, independently of the cause attributed to its
origin, the Shokas are aware of the fact that an earthquake "travels" in
a certain direction. Moreover, common symptoms of the approach of a
violent earthquake, such as depression and heaviness in the atmosphere,
which they attribute to a feverish state of the giant reptile, are
readily recognised by them.

[Illustration: MY BANKER AND AGENT]

On my return to civilisation some months later I discovered that on the
same day a violent shock was felt all over India, causing considerable
damage, especially in Calcutta.

I had on first arriving in Garbyang ordered a tent, and the tailor who
was entrusted with its manufacture had, after several days' intoxication,
completed it. It was on the Tibetan pattern, with picturesque ornaments
in blue. He had also been making me some Nepalese clothes, and these
really turned out quite a success, no small wonder considering the way he
went to work. I had given him cloth and lining, which he took away with
him, but he never troubled to take my measure! He simply assured me that
the suit would be ready on the following day. This was of course not the
case, and on the next afternoon and for six consecutive days he placed
himself in a state of hopeless intoxication under my window, singing, and
making comical salaams each time I, after the custom of the country,
threw something at him to induce him to go away. On the seventh day I
caught him and shook him by the ears, explaining that if the clothes were
not ready before nightfall, I would, in default of other tailors, sew
them myself.

"I have a drop too much in me," confessed the amusing rascal. "I will go
to sleep now. When I wake in the afternoon I shall be sober and will
finish my work. Do not be angry, Sahib. If only you drank yourself,
Sahib, you would know how lovely it is to be drunk." His philosophy did
not agree with mine. But I felt sure that I had so far impressed him,
that he knew he must risk some personal violence if he delayed much
longer. Sure enough, late in the evening he came with his work.

"How they will fit I do not dare to guess," I remarked to Dr. Wilson,
"considering the condition the man has been in while making them, and
taking into account that he never measured me nor tried them on. After
all, Nepalese clothes should be tight-fitting all over."

[Illustration: THE VALLEY OF GARBYANG]

Wonderful as it may seem, the clothes fitted like a glove. Clearly, that
man was a genius. Anyhow he was intemperate enough to have been one.

       *       *       *       *       *

One day I had gone for a walk along the deserted road from the village. I
was about a mile and a half from the inhabited part, when three men, who
had been fast approaching, stood with blunt swords in front of me. They
waved their blades clumsily and shouted at the top of their voices in an
excited manner: "_Rupiya! Rupiya!_" ("Rupees! Rupees!") Without thinking
of the money that I had sent for and expected to receive, I took their
attitude as a threatening demand for the cash I might have on me. They
were really grotesque in their gesticulations, and I brusquely pushed by
them and continued my constitutional. When they saw me depart, they
scurried away hastily towards Garbyang, and I gave the occurrence no
further thought. On my return to the village, however, some hours later,
a crowd of Shokas came up to me announcing that my money had arrived, and
that the scared messengers, not daring to come near me a second time, had
gone to Dr. Wilson's house. There I found a _peon_ and two _chaprassis_,
the three men I had met on the road. They had brought a sum of eighteen
hundred rupees in silver, nearly all in two-anna and four-anna pieces
(sixteen annas to a rupee), which I had sent for from my banker, Anti Ram
Sah, at Almora, and which it had taken three men to carry, owing to its
weight.

After an easy explanation with these three very peaceful highwaymen, the
silver was conveyed to my room, and the greater part of the night had to
be spent in counting the diminutive coins and packing them up in rolls of
ten rupees each.

       *       *       *       *       *

Just below Garbyang in the Kali River were, among a mass of others, two
large rocks in the centre of the stream. These two rocks were constantly
watched by the Shokas. The Kali, though named after a small spring below
its real source, is, like most of its tributaries, mainly fed by melting
snows. The greater quantity of water descends from the Jolinkan, the
Lumpiya, the Mangshan, the Lippu, and the Tinker passes. The first four
are in Kumaon, the last in Nepal. It stands to reason that the warmer the
weather the greater is the quantity of snow melting on the passes, and
therefore the higher the level of the river. When the two rocks are
altogether under water all the passes are known to be open.[11]

During the time I was in Garbyang I never had the luck to see this, but
the level of the river was daily rising, and the time of tiresome
expectation was certainly relieved by many amusing, and a few awkward
incidents.

Having once been informed of my plans, the Jong Pen of Taklakot in Tibet
was kept fully acquainted with my movements. His spies went daily
backwards and forwards with details about me. This my friends confided
to me regularly. One of these emissaries, a stalwart Tibetan, more daring
than the rest, actually had the impudence to enter my room, and to
address me in a boisterous tone of voice. At first I treated him kindly,
but he became more and more arrogant, and informed me, before several
frightened Shokas to whom he was showing off, that the British soil I was
standing on was Tibetan property. The British, he said, were usurpers and
only there on sufferance. He declared that the English were cowards and
afraid of the Tibetans, even if they oppressed the Shokas.

This remark was too much for me, and it might anyhow have been unwise to
allow it to pass unchallenged. Throwing myself on him, I grabbed him by
his pigtail and landed in his face a number of blows straight from the
shoulder. When I let him go, he threw himself down crying, and implored
my pardon. Once and for all to disillusion the Tibetan on one or two
points, I made him lick my shoes clean with his tongue, in the presence
of the assembled Shokas. This done, he tried to scamper away, but I
caught him once more by his pigtail, and kicked him down the front steps
which he had dared to come up unasked.

Chanden Sing happened to be basking in the sun at the foot, and seeing
the hated foreigner make so contemptible an exit, leapt on him like a
cat. He had heard me say, "Ye admi bura crab!" ("That man is very bad.")
That was enough for him, and before the Tibetan had regained his feet, my
bearer covered his angular features with a perfect shower of blows. In
the excitement of the moment, Chanden Sing, thinking himself quite the
hero, began even to shy huge stones at his terror-stricken victim, and at
last, getting hold of his pigtail, to drag him round the yard--until I
interfered and stopped the sport.

[Illustration: CHANDEN SING AND THE DAKU ROLLING UP MY BEDDING]


[10] The ceilings of Shoka houses are plastered with mud.

[11] N.B. The Lippu Pass, the lowest of all, may be crossed, with
difficulty, nearly all the year round.




CHAPTER XVI

     The _Rambang_--Shoka music--Love-songs--Doleful singing--Abrupt
     ending--Solos--Smoking--When marriage is contemplated--The
     _Delang_--Adultery--Punishment.


[Illustration: MOTEMA, A SHOKA BEAUTY]

ONE Shoka institution, surprising in a primitive people, but
nevertheless, to my way of thinking, eminently sensible and advantageous,
is the Rambang, a meeting-place or club where girls and young men come
together at night, for the sake of better acquaintance, prior to entering
into matrimony. Each village possesses one or more institutions of this
kind, and they are indiscriminately patronised by all well-to-do people,
who recognise the institution as a sound basis on which marriage can be
arranged. The Rambang houses are either in the village itself, or half
way between one village and the next, the young women of one village thus
entering into amicable relations with the young men of the other and
_vice versâ_. I visited many of these in company with Shokas, and found
them very interesting. Round a big fire in the centre of the room men and
women sat in couples, spinning wool and chatting merrily, for everything
appeared decorous and cheerful. With the small hours of the morning, they
seemed to become more sentimental, and began singing songs without
instrumental accompaniment, the rise and fall of the voices sounding
weird and haunting to a degree. The Shoka men and women possess soft,
musical voices, and the sounds which they utter are not simply a series
of notes emitted through the throat, but, as it were, the vibration of
impressions coming from the heart, and transmitted by means of their
voices to others. Eastern in its character, the Shoka music is pleasing
to the Western ear, not because it possesses quick progressions,
flourishes, or any elaborate technicalities, but because it conveys the
impression of reality and feeling. The responsive duets, sung by a young
man and answered by a girl, pleased me most. All their songs are
plaintive, and contain modulations of the voice so mysteriously charming
in effect, and so good in tone, that they really affect one profoundly.
They only sing when the mood takes them; never with a view to please
others, but always simply to give vent to their emotions. Their
love-songs generally open with a sentimental recitative, and then change
into actual singing, with frequent modulations from one key into another.
The time is irregular, and though certain rhythmical peculiarities recur
constantly, yet each performer gives to what he sings so strong a
personality of execution as to make it almost an individual composition.
Any one hearing Shokas sing for the first time would imagine that each
singer was improvising as he went along, but on closer comparison it will
be found that musical phrases, certain favourite passages and modulations
in the voice, constantly recur not only in each song, but in all songs.
They seem all of them based on the same doleful tune, probably a very
ancient one, and only the different time in which it is given, and the
eccentricities of the singer, give it a separate and special character.
One characteristic of Shoka songs--as of so many other Oriental tunes--is
that they have no rounded ending, and this, to my ears, rather spoiled
them. A similar abrupt break is a feature of their dances and their
drum-beating. The song suddenly stops in the middle of the air with a
curious grating sound of the voice, and I could not obtain any entirely
satisfactory explanation of this: the only answer given me was that the
singer could not go on for ever, and that as long as he stopped it did
not matter how he did it. Further, they considered an abrupt ending most
suitable to music (or dancing), as it immediately brought you back to
your normal state, should your mind have been carried away. One pleasant
feature was that their songs were never sung in a loud tone of voice, nor
did they aim at notes too high or too low for their voices, but kept
themselves well within their compass.

[Illustration: ON THE WAY TO THE RAMBANG]

[Illustration: SHOKA EARRINGS]

The only difference between solos given by men, and those sung by women,
was that the former showed more plaintiveness and sentimentality, and
greater mutability of thought, whereas the latter were more uniform, more
lively, and less imaginative in their representation of feelings. The
words of the love-songs, nearly always _impromptu_, can hardly be set
down in these pages. From our standard of morality, and away from their
own special surroundings, they might seem almost lewd, while in their
place they certainly did not impress me as offensive. When singing, the
Shokas usually raise the end of their white shawl or dress, and hold it
by the side of the head.

[Illustration: SILVER EARRINGS OF TIBETAN ORIGIN, WITH CORAL BEADS]

Smoking was general, each couple sharing the same pipe. A few burning
sticks of pine stuck in the rough wall formed the only illumination, save
the fire in the centre of the room slowly burning out. Signs of
sleepiness became evident as morning came, and soon they all retired in
couples, and went to sleep in their clothes on a soft layer of straw and
grass. There they slept peacefully in a row, and I retraced my steps to
my diggings amidst a deafening barking of pariah dogs. At these
gatherings every Shoka girl regularly meets with young men, and while she
entertains the idea of selecting among them a suitable partner for life,
she also does a considerable quantity of work with her spinning-wheel.
Eventually, when a couple consider marriage advisable, the young man,
dressed in his best clothes, proceeds to the house of his intended
father-in-law, carrying with him a pot of _chökti_ (wine), dried fruit,
_ghur_ (sweet paste), _miseri_ (sugar-candy), and grilled grain. If the
bridegroom is considered a suitable match, the parents of the girl
receive the young man with due consideration, and partake heartily of the
food and drink proffered by him. The marriage is there and then arranged,
the bridegroom further disbursing to the father a sum of not less than
five rupees and not more than one hundred. This is the etiquette of good
Shoka society, and of all people who can afford it, the payment being
called "milk-money," or money equivalent to the sum spent by the girl's
relations in bringing her up. The marriage ceremony is simple enough. A
cake called _Delang_ is baked, of which the friends of the two families
partake. If either the bridegroom or bride refuses to eat a share of the
cake, the marriage is broken off; if they both eat some of the cake, and
later any dissension arises between them, all those who assisted at the
function are called as witnesses that the marriage took place. Often even
this primitive ceremony of eating cake is dispensed with, and Shoka
marriages begin and continue as happy and faithful unions, without any
special form of service or rite to solemnise the tie.

[Illustration: SHOKA WOMAN WEAVING]

They not only visit adultery on the guilty man himself by beating him,
but the men proceed _en masse_ to the house of his parents and denude it
of all furniture, stores of grain, and merchandise. They confiscate the
sheep, goats, yaks, and all their valuable saddles and loads, and present
the whole proceeds to the man whose wife has been seduced--a recompense
for the shame suffered. Frequently the unfortunate and innocent relations
of the evil-doer are bound and even beaten to death by the villagers.
These severe measures are resorted to in order to maintain a high
standard of morality and honour, and there is little doubt that,
primitive as these methods may seem, the good results obtained more than
justify them. There are very few illegitimate births, with the exception
of occasional Rambang children, and their arrival is a matter of such
disgrace that they cannot be looked upon as seriously discrediting the
social value of the Rambang.

[Illustration: RAMBANG GIRLS WITH ORNAMENTS]




CHAPTER XVII

FUNERAL RITES

     Departure of the Soul--Cremation--Amusement of the dead man's
     soul--The lay figure--Feasting--Doleful dance--Transmigration of
     the soul--Expensive ceremonies--Offerings before the lay
     figure--Dancing and contortions--Martial dances--Solo dances--The
     animal to be sacrificed and the lay figure--Chasing the animal
     from the village--Tearing out its heart--The yak driven over a
     precipice--Head shaving--A sacred cave.


THE Shokas ascribe death to the departure of the soul from the body, and
to this notion is due the curious reverence they show for the spirit or
memory of their dead. I witnessed a funeral ceremony quaint enough to
deserve record.

A man had died a painful death, the result of an accident. His friends
were immediately sent for, and the corpse, having been smeared with
butter (_ghi_), was dressed in his best clothes. They bent his body
double before the rigor set in, and placed him on a hurriedly constructed
wooden hearse. He was covered with a blue-and-gold embroidered cloth, and
a white one over it. At sunrise, the funeral procession left the house
for the place of cremation. First came a row of ten women, their heads
covered with a long strip of white cotton cloth, one end of which was
tied to the hearse. Among these were the near relations of the deceased,
including his wife and daughters, crying and wailing the words, "_Oh
bajo! Oh bajo!_" (Oh father! oh father!), the rest of them sobbing and
making great show of grief. The deceased having been somewhat of a
favourite in Garbyang, the villagers turned out in force to render him
this last tribute, and they took their place in the procession as it
slowly wound down the cliff towards the river. The hearse was carried by
two men, and each male Shoka following bore a log or bundle of firewood.
We reached the Kali. The body was temporarily laid on the bank of the
stream, while all the men, with heads uncovered, collected large stones
and pieces of wood. With the stones a circular crematory oven, five feet
high, six feet in diameter, with an opening on the side facing the wind,
was erected by the water-side. The wife and daughters of the departed,
with their hoods turned inside out and with covered faces, squatted down
meanwhile by the hearse, moaning and keeping a small fire alight. When
all preparations were made, the oven being heaped up with logs of wood,
the body was untied from the stretcher and lifted by two intimates of the
departed on to the funeral pile.

[Illustration: WEEPING WOMEN UNDER WHITE CLOTH]

All valuables were removed, his gold earrings, his silver locket and
bracelets; and a large knife was used for some purpose or other which I
could not quite see, except in slitting the lobes of the corpse's ears to
remove his earrings more quickly. Branches of pine-tree were deposited on
the body, and a large pot of butter was set by its side. A brass bowl of
_chökti_ (wine) was poured on the head, and then, in profound silence,
fire was set to the pile.

A few white puffs showed that it had caught fire, and then a dense column
of black smoke rose from it, filling the atmosphere with a sickening
smell of singed hair and burning flesh. The wind blew the smoke towards
me, and I was enveloped in it for some moments, during which I could see
nothing of what was going on, and I felt my eyes smart and my nostrils
fill with the smoke and the stench. Gradually a tall flame, over twenty
feet high, leaked out, consuming the body and showing me, as the
atmosphere cleared, the Shokas down by the river washing their hands and
faces to cleanse themselves of what they look upon as unclean, the
contact with a corpse. Retracing their steps to the village, the women
cried and moaned, carrying back to the house the clothes of the deceased
and his brass bowls.

[Illustration: SHOKA FUNERAL PILE]

[Illustration: WOMEN DUSTING AND CARESSING THE LAY FIGURE]

Reaching home, it was incumbent on them to provide lavishly for the
amusement of the dead man's soul. A lay figure crudely constructed of
straw and sticks was attired by them in the clothes of the departed, and
covered over with Indian fabrics embroidered in gold and red and blue,
and a turban was stuck on the head, with a _panache_ made of a branch of
fir-tree. The _Kalihé_ was at the side of the image. When the fire was
extinguished, a visit was paid to the cremation spot by the relatives of
the deceased, and such pieces of bone as the knee-joints, elbows, and the
larger vertebræ of the spine, usually left undestroyed by the flames,
were collected and deposited inside the clothes of the image. Wheat,
rice, and flour were purchased in large quantities and cooked to provide
food for the multitude of friends who remained the guests of the family
during the whole time of the funeral. A sheep a day is usually killed and
eaten on such occasions, and cask after cask of _chökti_ (wine), _zahn_
(a liquor distilled from barley, rice and wheat), and _anag_ (from
fermented grain of various kinds) are emptied by the mourning crowd. The
women folk of the dead man mourned round the effigy, resting their heads
on it, crying and imploring the beloved one to return to life. Other rows
of women, with their hoods turned inside out in sign of mourning, danced
gracefully in circles round the dressed-up figure, left the house by one
door in the basement, described an arc in the open, and returned by
another door, while men were dancing a doleful dance outside the house.
Beating of drums went on the whole day--languid and sad at moments;
excited, violent and rowdy at others, according to the mood of the
musicians and the quantity of liquor consumed by them. On each day of
these proceedings, which lasted for three or four days, rice, baked
wheat, and wine were placed before the effigy, until, when it was assumed
that the soul of the dead had had a sufficiently amusing time,
arrangements were made for its transmigration from the lay figure into a
live sheep or yak. If the deceased is a man, the animal chosen to
represent him is a male; if a woman, a female; but no ceremony of this
sort follows the cremation of children under ten or twelve. In the case
of the old man whose funeral I witnessed, a sheep was chosen, instead of
the time-hallowed yak, the procuring of which from Tibet used to be a
very costly business. The use of a sheep for these sacrifices is quite a
recent innovation, brought into fashion by the greatest Shoka trader in
Garbyang, called Gobaria, whose intention it was to put down the
unnecessary waste of these ceremonies; but many pious Shokas, I was
assured, are not satisfied with so small an offering as a single sheep,
and slaughter two or even more on these occasions.

[Illustration: WOMEN DANCING ROUND THE LAY FIGURE]

[Illustration: DANCE IN FRONT OF DECEASED MAN'S HOUSE]

After several days' dancing and gorging indoors, a crowd collects, to the
sound of the drums, outside the habitation. The lay figure is from the
room transported either directly outside the dwelling or to some
picturesque spot in the woods. This is generally on the fourth day. Bowls
with food are placed in front of it, and the dancing is begun, to a
curious sentimental strain, with a graceful series of contortions, by
girls and women waving large pieces of white material. The legs keep time
with the arms, and each leg is alternately bent at the knee until it
nearly touches the ground. The head is inclined to the right or left, and
thrown backwards or forwards according to the beating of the drum. The
circular motion in the dancing begins first very slowly, and the speed
then increases by degrees, abruptly ending in odd and suggestive
postures. During the intervals of dancing the relatives go round and
round the lay figure, dusting and fanning it with their white cloths.

[Illustration: THE GOAT WITH SOUL OF DECEASED BEING FED]

In the afternoon the men join the performance, and though their dancing
has practically the same characteristics and motions as the women's
dance, it is usually so much more violent that it almost partakes of the
character of a war-dance. They hold in their right hands a sword, in the
left a circular shield, and some of the younger men show great skill in
the rapid manipulation of their blades, twirling them round their heads
and behind their backs. There are solos, duets and trios, in which the
drummer or drummers take part, and when the dancing is collective, they
head the procession, contorting their bodies and beating their drums with
a stick on one side and the palm of the hand on the other.

[Illustration: GOAT, WITH SOUL AND CLOTHES OF DECEASED]

The whole crowd is constantly regaled by the family with corn baked with
sugar, roasted Indian corn, rice, sweets, _ghur_ and _miseri_, when the
lay figure is supposed to have had its fill. While the mob eat, the
ladies of the house return to the effigy with quick beating of the drums,
and again double themselves up in solemn lengthy curtsies. Perhaps the
most interesting, because the most accomplished, were the solo male
dancers, each performer displaying his own particular genius. The drummer
beats his drum whimsically--fast and slow alternately, with no rule--just
as it pleases his fancy, and the dancer always keeps time with him in
all his frenzies and eccentricities, so that his movements are sometimes
so slow as to be barely noticeable, and at others so rapid that his arms
and legs can no longer be distinguished. I happened to witness no less
than six funerals simultaneously in Garbyang, and a collective war-dance
of as many as three hundred men. It went on during a whole day and the
greater part of the following night, torches and a big bonfire burning.

[Illustration: SENDING THE GOAT AWAY FROM THE VILLAGE]

[Illustration: MARTIAL DANCE ROUND LAY FIGURE]

Eventually, amidst firing of guns, howls, yells and deafening hissing of
the assembled crowd, the animal to be sacrificed is dragged before the
lay figure. Long coloured ribbons are tied round its horns, and the ends
left hanging by the side of its head. Sandal-wood is burnt under the
beast's nostrils, which is supposed to induce the soul of the departed to
enter and establish itself in the animal. The clothes, the turban, the
shield, the jewellery, are torn from the figure's back and piled on to
the goat, which is now the impersonation of the deceased. It is fed until
it can hold no more, wine and liquor being poured down its throat, and
large dishes of all possible delicacies being placed before it. The women
relatives devote to it their tenderest affection, and shed tears over it
in the conviction that it holds the spirit of their lost protector.
Stuffed with food, and stupefied by the alcohol, the beast submits,
emotionless and immovable, to the wild caresses, prayers, and salaams
showered on it. Again the hissing, whistling and yelling begin, and a
rush is made for the animal, which is seized by the horns, the neck, the
tail, wherever it can be caught hold of, and dragged, pushed, beaten, and
at last chased out of the village, but not until after the clothes,
shield, sword, turban, and ornaments have been torn from its back. It is
eventually handed over to the Hunyas or Jumlis or Humlis, who on these
occasions benefit by the simplicity and superstition of the Shokas, and
who throw it down, rip the body open, and pull out the heart, or twist it
in the inside with a jerk that kills instantly. This method applies to
sheep or goat.

[Illustration: TEARING OUT THE HEART OF THE GOAT]

When a yak is sacrificed, very much the same rites take place up to the
moment when the lay figure is deprived of its clothing and the yak
invested with it. It is similarly beaten and dragged about, and left on
the top of some mountain, the crowd calling after it, "Go! go! We have
feasted, fêted and fed you. We have done all in our power for your
welfare. We cannot do more! Go now!" With this the yak, with the soul
that has been driven into it, is left to its own devices, and as soon as
the Shokas have departed, is driven by the Tibetans over a precipice, it
being against their faith to draw blood from a yak. In the fatal leap the
animal is smashed to pieces, and the Tibetans, collecting the remains,
gorge themselves with the prized meat of their cherished yak.

[Illustration: YAK DRIVEN OVER PRECIPICE]

As a mark of reverence the Shoka men remove their caps not only while
following the corpse to cremation, but also during the feasting, the male
relatives themselves even shaving their heads; and this practice is
occasionally extended to the whole male community in the case of a
particularly respected villager dying. The women remove their jewellery,
and, as already noted, turn their hoods inside out.

When all is over, some restitution of his property is made to the dead,
and odd articles, such as brass bowls or a gun or a shield or sword, are
placed in a sacred cave, which none dare desecrate by entering to remove
anything. These caves are high up on the mountain-sides, and are said to
be full of sacred offerings, which have accumulated there in the
centuries.

I expressed the wish to see the cave on the mountain side above Garbyang,
but the natives politely asked me not to do so, as the visit of a
stranger to this sacred spot might bring misfortune on the Shoka living
community. Therefore I abstained from going rather than cause
unpleasantness.




CHAPTER XVIII

     Touching Shoka farewell--Feelings curiously expressed--Sobs and
     tears--The start--A funereal procession--Distressed father and
     mother--Kachi and Dola the worse for drink--Anxious moments--The
     bridge destroyed.


THE day of my departure came. It was after dark. Outside my dwelling a
crowd of Shokas had assembled. I bade farewell to my host Zeheram and to
his wife and children, who with tears in their eyes wished me God-speed.

[Illustration: KACHI AND HIS RELATIONS]

"Salaam, sahib, salaam!" repeated Zeheram, sobbing and bringing his hand
respectfully to his forehead. "You know, sahib, that a horse goes to a
horse, a tiger to a tiger, a yak to a yak, and a man to a man. A man's
house is another man's house, no matter whether the colour of our skin
differs or not. Therefore I thank Heaven that you have accepted shelter
under my humble roof. You must have been uncomfortable, for all you
sahibs are rich and accustomed to luxury. I am only a trader and a
cultivator. I am poor, but I possess a heart. You, unlike other sahibs,
have always spoken kindly to me and to all of us Shokas. We feel that
you are our brother. You have given us presents, but we needed them not.
The only present we wish for is that, when you reach the end of your
perilous journey, you will send us a message that you are well. We will
all pray day and night for you. Our hearts are sore at your leaving us."

This from the rough old boy, whom I had got really to like, was touching,
and I told him I hoped I might some day be able to repay him for his
kindness. When I descended the steps there was quite a crowd in the yard.
Every one wished to bid me farewell. The men took my right hand in both
theirs and brought it up to their foreheads, muttering words of grief at
my lea

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