While I was taking rest in that helpless condition, I was fortunate enough to see a Tibetan coming along my way leading a yak. When he came to where I was sitting I greeted him, and asked him to carry my luggage as far as he could without compromising his own convenience, and promised him suitable pay for his trouble. He willingly consented, and relieved my aching back of its load.

After travelling about three miles, I observed three men coming towards us on horseback. They were fully armed, each with a gun, a lance and a sword, and as they approached they looked like burly men, wearing Tibetan hunting caps. I at once concluded that they must be highwaymen, for evidently they were not pilgrims, the latter generally travelling with a pack-horse or a yak to carry their necessaries; nor could they be merchants, for they would travel in a caravan, according to the fashion of the country. My companion came to the same conclusion and began to show signs of fear. To encounter highwaymen is not quite agreeable under any circumstances, so I was not cheered at the thought of meeting those three fellows, but I was not at all afraid, for I made up my mind to surrender whatever things they wished to have out of my effects. I simply wished to keep my life, and for this the highwaymen could have no use. With that idea I boldly advanced and soon came face to face with the three cavaliers. They asked me whence I came, and when I replied that I was returning from a visit to Mount Kailasa they further asked me if I had not seen some traders on my way. The traders were their friends, they continued, and they were searching for them.

When I replied that I had not met with any such persons, the men then said that I must be a Lama-priest, and as such they wished me to perform some divination for them, to find out the whereabouts of their friends. Now the meaning of their request was quite clear, they wished to find the traders in order to assault and despoil them. For my own part I was rather relieved when the three fellows disclosed their intention, for I knew that highwaymen who were after traders with rich goods would scorn the idea of robbing a poor Lama-priest such as they took me to be. On the contrary they might offer some donation to such a priest, if they asked him to undertake divination for their sake. Highwaymen who do business on a large scale often prove a source of substantial profit to Lama-priests, if a donation coming from such quarters can be regarded as a legitimate profit.

Well, placed under such peculiar circumstances, I was obliged to give them a ‘direction,’ and of course the direction I gave them was the one which I judged least likely to be frequented by traders. The highwaymen were highly pleased at my divination, thanked me, and then galloped off in the direction I indicated. They did not offer me any donation, however, for they said they had nothing to present to me now.

My companion had remained at a distance all the while as a terrified spectator of this strange transaction between the highwaymen and myself. When they had galloped away he emerged from his hiding-place, and asked me what I was talking about with those dreadful men. I told him in detail what had passed between the highwaymen and myself, and relieved his anxiety by assuring him that my divination was a mere sham, and was really intended to mislead them instead of giving them any probable direction.

After having walked along a river bank for about eight miles we came to a tent which belonged to my companion, and there were two or three others besides. That night I slept in the tent of my guide, and I also stayed there during the following day in order to give rest to my fatigued limbs. On the following morning (that is on September 26th) I purchased a goat according to the advice of my host, and packing my effects on the animal’s back I left the place.

I was soon after overtaken by a fearful snowstorm, which obstructed my sight and blocked my progress. My Tibetan garment was completely drenched, and I was wet to the skin. I could not determine in which direction I should proceed, for the storm blinded my eyes and I had lost my compass; but though I could not be certain of the right direction I had to move on as best I could, for to stand still was out of the question. My situation was growing more and more desperate, and I was at my wit’s end, not knowing what to do. As luck would have it, just at that moment I met with a horseman. He at once noticed the plight I was in and kindly offered me the hospitality of his tent. It was a little dÉtour, he said, for one going to Lhasa to go with him to his tent, but it would be dangerous (though not probably fatal, as the season was not yet far advanced) to pass that snowy night in the open; the cold was too severe to expose oneself to it with safety at night. I gratefully accepted the hospitable offer, transferred, as he bade me, a part of my goat’s load on to the back of his horse, and then, leading the goat, followed the horseman and soon reached his tent.

The following morning my host left quite early, and the people of the tent, and of four or five others, broke up their camp and moved on in the direction in which I also was to proceed for my journey towards Lhasa. So I followed them, and trudged along the snow-covered ground in a south-easterly direction for about fifteen miles. I had not yet had occasion to talk with any of them, but I felt sure that they would again extend to me their hospitality, and at least allow me to share their tent at night, for they must see, I thought, that it was impossible for me to sleep outside among the snow-covered hills. In time the party made a halt, selected a suitable site for pitching their camp, scraped off the snow, and set up their tents. All that while I was watching the people at work, or gazing at the surrounding scenery. When the tent-pitching was finished, I asked the people of the tent in which I had slept the preceding night for permission to enjoy a similar favor again. I was astonished to receive from them a blunt refusal. Then I tried another tent, but with no better success, and my earnest requests at the five or six other tents were all in vain. I at last came to the only remaining tent, and I thought that as this was my last chance I must somehow or other persuade the inmates to admit me, whether they were willing to receive me or not; so I begged them—they were an old dame and her daughter—for permission to sleep in their tent, on the ground that I should probably be frozen to death if I were to stay outside in the snow on that cold night, and urged that they should take compassion on me. I added that I might repay their kindness with a suitable present of money. The old woman was not softened at all by my appeal. On the contrary she was angry with me, saying that I was insulting her by trying to force hospitality from her. Why had I not tried other tents inhabited by men, and why should I be so importunate with her alone? I was insulting her because she was a woman, she added, and she insisted on my leaving her tent. When I tried to protest against this merciless treatment she stood up in an awful passion, and raising aloft the Tibetan tongs, with which she was scraping together the kindled yak’s dung, she made as though she would strike me.