The next day, September 14th, snow again fell, and so we had to stay in the same place. The hunting-dogs went out of their own accord on a rabbit-hunting expedition, and came back with their mouths stained with blood. They must have hunted down some rabbits and made a meal of them. The snow ceased, and we left the place on the following day. Proceeding eastwards, we now came to a long undulating hill, and soon reached its summit. Here the head of the family said that our pilgrimage must end at this spot, and when asked why at this particular place, he pointed to Lake Manasarovara, situated to the west, and also to the snow-capped peak of Manri that stood due south from the middle of the Lake, and told me that we should here bid farewell and express our good wishes to the sacred region, for this was the last point where we could have a full view of the Holy Place, and that we should express in our prayers an earnest desire to visit this sacred region again in the future. Saying this, he bowed down and I and all the rest followed his example.

When I thought that I (the first Japanese who had ever come to visit this district from a remote country thousands of miles away) was now about to take leave of Lake Manasarovara after having been in its neighborhood for several days, a peculiar sensation came over me, and I stood gazing at the lake for some time. As we were going down the hill, my host told me that as they had already departed from the Holy Place they should now earnestly engage themselves in their worldly pursuits; therefore they thought it time that I should leave them. We soon reached a little encampment of some twelve or thirteen tents, and thither I wended my way to observe the condition of the small community.

Mendicancy was well suited for satisfying my curiosity, and as a mendicant I entered the encampment. My companions remained in the same place that day and the next, the brothers occupied in shooting. On the latter day I was reading a Chinese Bu??hist Text, and the two women were outside engaged in some earnest talk. At first I did not pay any attention to what they were saying, but when my ears caught the word ‘Lama’ pronounced several times my curiosity was awakened. Dawa was saying that she had heard the Lama, that is myself, say that her mother was probably dead. She wished, she continued, to ascertain this of the Lama, and so she had been pressing him for some definite information. Her aunt received this remark with a laugh. He must have seen, she said, that Dawa was in love with him, and had therefore told her this fib in joke. She must not mind what the Lama told her. However, the aunt continued, her husband had been telling her that he must make the Lama marry Dawa, and that should he refuse, her husband would kill him. It was evident that this last portion of the conversation was intended for my ears, for the aunt spoke in a loud voice.

When I heard that intimidatory warning I at first felt alarmed, but the next moment I recovered my tranquillity. I thought that if I should suffer death for having resisted a temptation, my death would be highly approved by the holy Founder. He would be displeased if I should disobey my conscience for the mere fear of death. Internally praying for strength of mind to resist the temptation, even at the risk of my life, I resumed my reading. However nothing occurred to me that day, nor the next, when we struck our tent and proceeded for about five miles close to the brow of a hill, from which I saw at a short distance what appeared to be houses, and I was told that this was another postal station called Tokchen Tazam. Again I visited the place in the disguise of a mendicant priest. I soon returned and found Dawa alone in the tent; the rest were all gone out hunting, so she told me. I at once saw that the conspiracy was developing, and that matters were growing quite critical.

I concluded that I must do my best to dissuade the girl from pursuing the object of her misplaced affection. Some spiritual affinity must have brought me into the company of this girl, so it seemed to me that I was bound to administer an earnest expostulation, so that she might recover from her erring fancy. So thinking, I took my seat in the tent. As soon as I did so, she brought me some mushrooms she had collected for me in the morning, for she said: “You seemed to be very fond of them.” I thanked her for her kindness, took all the mushrooms and a cup of baked flour, and then set myself to read my books. The girl stopped me, saying that she had something which she must tell me, for she had heard something which filled her with fear. Then she narrated what one of her uncles, that is one of my male companions, had said about his intention to force me to marry his niece. When she had concluded her story, I told her with the greatest composure that I should be rather glad than afraid to be killed by the brothers of her father. I had finished my pilgrimage, I added; I had nothing to desire in this world, and I was not in the least afraid to die. Moreover, I continued, I would not harbor any ill-will, even if I should be killed now by her father and uncles. I should rather thank them for hastening my departure to the plane of Bo?hisa??vas; so I would pray for them when I was enabled to reach that Happy Abode. I would therefore ask to be killed that very evening. The girl seemed surprised to find her revelation producing an effect quite the reverse of what she had expected. She tried to remonstrate with me on what she considered a foolish resolution, and spoke some commonplaces about death and the pleasures of life. Of course I easily refuted them, and at last she gave up the evidently useless task of persuading me.

About four o’clock that afternoon the four returned. They must have listened for some time to the conversation between Dawa and myself, for as soon as they entered the tent, the most wicked of the three brothers severely scolded Dawa for flirting with a man. Upon this, the girl’s father at once took her side, and snappishly told his brother that his Dawa had a father to protect her, and therefore wanted nobody to meddle with her, much less an uncle who had never given her even so much as one bowl of flour since she was born.

The quarrel waxed hotter and fiercer, and the brothers began to abuse each other and to divulge each other’s crimes. One accused the other of being a robber, and of having murdered men at such and such places, and was met with the recriminating accusation of having attempted to rob the Government and of having fled for fear of arrest. The wordy warfare at last developed into actual blows, and the brothers exchanged fisticuffs, and even began to hurl stones at each other. I thought I must interfere, and so I jumped up and attempted to hold back the youngest brother as he was about to spring at Dawa’s father. The fellow struck my cheek with his bony knuckles with such force that I fell, and my whole frame shook with pain. The confusion in the tent had reached its climax, and Dawa was beginning to cry and so was also her aunt. I remained a passive spectator of the rest of this terrible scene, for I had to lie prostrate from the pain. Presently the sun set and the quarrel too spent itself and the night passed without any further outbreak.

The next morning the party broke up, for each brother wanted to go his way, the eldest with his wife, the second with his daughter, and the third alone, as was also the case with me; so we had to disperse, each for his own destination. One thing that troubled me was the lack of sheep to carry my effects. At last I purchased two at six tanka each, and separating myself from the rest proceeded in the south-easterly direction. One of the brothers started for the north, while I could see the others were retracing the road we had come along.

I had heard before that I must push on rapidly, but I purposely took the south-easterly direction, in order to throw off the scent any of the brothers who might come after me to rob me, or even worse. And so I proceeded in this direction, and by about sunset I reached the brow of a hill, where I was obliged to bivouac in the open, and on a snow-covered plain. The change was too sudden after having lived for so long in the tent, and I could not snatch even one wink of sleep during the night. On the following day, still continuing in the same direction, I reached a small monastery of the name of Sha Chen Khangba, where I remained that day and the next. For the first time since I parted with the brothers and the troublesome women, I felt safe, for I concluded that I was no longer in danger of being pursued by one of the murderous gang. I saw only two priests in the temple, and I spent most of my time in stitching my worn-out boots and clothes.

While I was staying in the monastery one of my sheep suddenly fell ill and died. I felt sorely grieved at his death, and read a suitable service for him. The other sheep I had to sell, at half the price I had paid for him, to one of four traders who arrived at the monastery soon after I had reached it, for I could hardly manage him now, as he was so peevish and disconsolate at the loss of his partner. To the four men I also gave the flesh of the dead sheep, and they accepted it with thanks. It happened that the party was travelling in the same direction as myself, and they proposed that I should go with them. This was quite a welcome suggestion, especially as the men were kind enough to offer their services to carry my effects, for they had with them a number of yaks.

So once more I had travelling companions, and I left the monastery with a far more cheerful heart than I had when I reached it. We proceeded in a south-easterly direction, and soon came to a small round pond, a little over half a mile in circumference. Proceeding along the right side of the pond, we next came to a lake which is very long from north-west to south-east, but very narrow. The whole circumference is said to be about forty miles. This lake is bounded by rocky hills on all sides, and the blackish rocks scattered here and there were partially covered, especially in the crevices and sheltered spots between the adjoining rocks, with a thin layer of snow, so that they presented quite a pretty sight. I ascended a small elevation close by the lake, and looked down on it and also on the small pond. From that height the serpentine lake looked just like the fabulous dragon in the act of clutching a round gem, the pond corresponding to the gem. The snow-streaked rocks were not unlike a white fleece of cloud. This lake is known by the name of Kong-gyu-i Tso, as I heard from my fellow travellers. After proceeding about seventeen miles south-eastwards, with the lake on our left, we reached its extremity. Here we were to bivouac, as we had no tent, but I could not sleep on the snow-covered plain. I therefore passed the night in my usual style, that is to say, in religious meditation, the best expedient for a sleepless night.

Our road lay next day over a steep hill, and it was indeed such a break-back ascent that it seemed to be trying even to the sturdy legs and lungs of my Tibetan companions. As for myself, I was lucky enough to get permission to ride on a yak’s back, and so I could negotiate the ascent with no great difficulty. Descending the opposite slope of the hill we soon reached a plain which, together with all the adjoining country, was situated in the Kong-gyu district. On this plain I noticed a white spot, not unlike a lake at a distance. My companions informed me that the white thing was puto, and that the white spot indicated the site of a lake which produced natural soda.

When we reached the lake my companions eagerly collected the deposit, put it in skin-bags and fastened it to the back of the yaks. They told me that the soda was to be mixed with tea.

We then went on over several low undulating hills, and finally reached the lower course of the river Chema Yungdung, where I had narrowly escaped drowning a short time before. As the season was now well advanced, the river was much shallower and we were able to cross it with comparative ease. I indeed could do so with perfect security, for I was carried on a yak’s back.

We were travelling all these days at the rate of about twenty-five miles a day, and I should hardly have been able to make such good progress had it not been for the fact that I could ride every now and then on a yak. What distressed me most was bivouacking in the open, where sleep was out of the question in the cold autumn nights and on ground covered with snow. After proceeding some twenty-five miles to the south-east, on the following day we reached the Brahmapu?ra, known in this region as Martsan-gi-chu or Kobei-chu, according to the districts which it traversed. The lordly river was quite shallow and could be crossed without trouble, and I did so as before on the yak’s back. We found some tents by the bank of the river where we were allowed to pass a night—quite a cheering change after so many nights of bivouacking.

It was a moonless night, but the sky was full of stars, which threw their twinkling rays on the water of the river. The vast range of the Himalayas was clearly silhouetted, so as to make its sharp outline perceptible. The majestic scene inspired me with poetic fervor:

The following day I had to part from my companions, who were going to a destination different from mine, and so I was again thrown on my own wits and my own legs for continuing my journey. After having travelled for so many days with the help of other people, I now had to travel alone with nothing but my back on which to carry my effects, and my journey on the following day was a cheerless and fatiguing one. The load weighed heavily on my back, and the time I occupied in taking rest was perhaps longer than that spent in actual progress. At last I was so much exhausted that I could hardly move my limbs.