The tormenting thirst which I experienced after my second disappointment simply beggars description. To say that I felt as if my entire internal system were becoming parched is only to put it mildly. But, however excruciating the torture might be, there was no help for it after all but to move on in the hope of finding some water; even the hope itself was now almost deserting me. I really felt that I should die of thirst if I should fail to get some moisture during the rest of the day, and were to pass another night waterless. I had been constantly taking some hotan; but even that cooling fragrance seemed to increase the distressing dryness. Thank heaven! about eleven o’clock I came within sight of a declivity, and somehow I felt sure that I should find some water at its bottom. Bu??ha be praised! I was right: there was some water. But alas! such water! To take the luggage off my back, get out a wooden bowl, and run down into the hollow was the work of an instant. But when I fetched out a bowlful of the water, lo and behold! it was vermilion red, thick and (what was worse) alive with myriads of little creatures! In short, it was a stagnant pool of water, which for all I knew might have been becoming putrid for years. Imagine how I then felt! I was dying with thirst, but the very look of the water was forbidding. Then my religious scruples disallowed my swallowing any water with living things in it. It was not long, however, before I remembered a teaching of the Blessed Bu??ha, in which the Lord telleth that when water which is to be drunk contains living things, it should be strained through a piece of woven stuff. I went through the process; but the water remained red. There were no more moving things in it, however, and I took a good long draught of the vermilion liquid. That quenching draught, how delicious it was! I imagine God’s nectar could not be sweeter. But a second bowlful—no, I could not take it. In the usual manner, then, I built a fire and went about boiling the filtered water. It was well-nigh twelve o’clock, however, before the kettle began to boil, and it being against my rule, as already told, to take any meal after noon, I prepared baked flour with the red lukewarm water. And the lunch I then took was one of the most enjoyable I ever had in Tibet.
I had proceeded over the sandy desert for about two and a half miles, after that memorable lunch, and it was now past three o’clock in the afternoon, when a terrific sand-storm arose. A sand-storm is something which one can never experience, or form any idea of, in Japan. As strong gust after gust of wind arose, the loose sand actually surged into big billows, tossing, dashing, tumbling, and sweeping, like the angry waves of the mighty ocean. The wind burrowed deep into the ground here and built high hills of sand there, filling the air with blinding particles, which rested in heaps on the luggage, penetrated down the neck, and made impossible any progress forward, while to stand still was to risk being buried alive. Not knowing what else to do, I kept moving just to shake off the sand, and to avoid being inhumed, while reciting in silence some passages of the Holy Text.
Fortunately the storm lasted for only about an hour, and it subsided with the same suddenness with which it arose. Then I resumed my advance, and by about five o’clock I reached a place grown over with creeping grass, and low thorny bush, the leaves of which were not green but dark to almost blackness, owing probably to the cold climate. There I bivouacked for the night, and I had an abundance of fuel with which to make a fire, and afterwards thoroughly enjoyed my sleep, as I had not done for many a night.
The next morning, after traversing the bush-land, I came to the foot of a mountain which I had to climb. When half way up the slope I saw a mountain stream flowing across my road, and it presented a rather curious sight. For the river, at a very short distance, broadened into a lake, and almost described a right angle when flowing out of this and into another basin. Afterwards I ascertained the name of this river to be Chema-yungdung-gi-chu, and that its waters flowed into the Brahmapu?ra. I shuddered at the thought of having once more to cross an icy mountain stream, but there was no help.
It was only nine o’clock in the morning when I reached the Chema-yungdung-gi-chu, and I found ice quite thick still along its banks. I waited till the ice began to melt, and I finished the noon-meal before making a plunge into the water, not forgetting of course the anointing process. My intention was to make my sheep carry their shares of the luggage across the river; but to this proposal they strenuously objected, probably knowing instinctively the depth of the water. In the end I gave in, relieved the animals of their burden, and, leaving the luggage behind, I led them into the water by their ropes. I tucked up my clothes high, but the water proved to be much deeper than I had judged; it came up to my shoulders, and all the clothing I had on became wet through. The sheep proved good swimmers, and we managed to get to the other side without any accident; of course they might have been washed down and drowned, but for the assistance I gave them by means of the ropes. Once on the bank, I tied one end of the ropes to a large boulder, and after taking off all my clothing to get dry I, stark naked, made a second plunge and returned for my luggage. The second crossing was comparatively easy. After a rest of about half an hour, and a thorough anointing for the second time, I made all my baggage into one bundle to be balanced on my head. With that acrobatic equipment, I entered the stream for a third time. All went well, until, in mid-stream, I lost my foothold, treading on a slippery stone in the bottom, and, what with the weight of the luggage on my head, and more or less exhaustion after the repeated wadings, I fell down into the water, while the bundle slid off my head. I had no time even to bring my staff into service; all I could do was to take firm hold of my luggage, and try to swim with one hand; for I was being fast carried down into deep waters. The thought then occurred to me that, if I tried to save my luggage, I might lose my life. But a second thought made it plain to me that to lose my luggage would mean surer death, because my route lay for ten days, at least, over an uninhabited tract of wilderness, and thus it was wiser to cling to it while life lasted. And cling to my luggage I did, but I was rapidly losing the power of moving my free swimming arm, and, in only one hundred yards down the swift stream, I should be washed into one of the lakes, whence I might never be able to get to dry land. I should have said that the river, at the point where I was crossing it, was a hundred and eighty yards wide, more or less. I had now had quite a course of ice and water—all involuntarily certainly—and a feeling of numbness was quickly coming over me. I began to think that it might be just as well to be drowned then as to die of starvation afterwards. In fact, I had spoken my last desire: “O ye! All the Bu??has of the ten quarters, as well as the highest Teacher of this world, Bu??ha Shakyamuni! I am not able to accomplish my desires and to return the kindness of my parents, friends, followers and specially the favors of all the Bu??has, in this life; but I desire that I be born again, in order to requite the favors which I have already received from all.” At that moment, with a thrill, I felt that the end of one of my staves had touched something hard. In an instant courage returned to me, and on trying to stand up I found that the water was only up to my breast. I was at that time about forty yards from the bank I had started for. Feeble as I was, with recovered strength I finally managed to reach the “shore of salvation”. As for the luggage, heavy with the soaking water, it was impossible for me to rebalance it on my head, and I pulled it along after me in the water; but when I at last got upon the bank, it taxed all my remaining energy to drag it out after me. Arrived on the bank, I found that I had been carried more than two hundred and fifty yards down the stream from the point whence I started to cross it, and I saw my sheep leisurely grazing, perfectly unconscious of their master’s sad plight. I had no strength, then, even to crawl up to where my sheep were. My fingers were stiff and immovable, and I rubbed the regions over my heart and lungs with closed fists. After an hour’s exercise of this kind, I more or less recovered the circulation of blood in my limbs, and I was just able partially to undo my baggage and to take out hotan—hotan, my life-saving hotan, which Mrs. Ichibei Watanabe of Osaka gave me, when bidding me farewell. A dose of hotan sent me into a fit of convulsions, which lasted for nearly three hours. It was now past five o’clock, and the sun was going down. The convulsions had almost left me. I then made two bundles of my luggage, and in two crawling trips I carried them to where I had left my sheep grazing. It was then that I thought of an ancient method of torture, called Oi-ishi, which consisted in making a suspect carry on his back an extremely heavy load—so rackingly heavy I then felt to be the weight of my divided luggage. That evening I had neither courage nor energy to make any fire, and I passed the night wrapped up in my half-wet tuk-tuk. The luggage having been done up in hides and skins, the water had not penetrated much into it, and I was thus able to go to sleep dressed, and protected in partially dry apparel.
