A sleepless night--Watching our enemy--A picturesque sight--A
messenger--Soldiers from Lhassa--Taken for a Kashmeree--The
Gunkyo Lake.
NATURALLY I passed a sleepless night after that, fearing that the
unwelcome visitors might return. We speculated much as to how the
Tibetans had found us, and we could not help surmising that our friends
of the previous afternoon must have put them on our track. However, such
was the inconceivable cowardice shown on every occasion by the Tibetans,
that we got to attach no importance to these incidents, and not only did
they not inspire us with fear, but they even ceased to excite or disturb
us much.
We went on as usual, descending to the plain, and when we had got
half-way across it, I scoured the hills all round with my telescope to
see if I could discern traces of our pusillanimous foes.
"There they are," cried Chanden Sing, who had the most wonderful eyesight
of any man I have known, as he pointed at the summit of a hill where,
among the rocks, several heads could be seen peeping. We went on without
taking further notice of them, and then they came out of their
hiding-place, and we saw them descending the hill in a long line, leading
their ponies. On reaching the plain they mounted their steeds and came
full gallop towards us. They were quite a picturesque sight in their
dark-red coats or brown and yellow skin robes and their vari-coloured
caps. Some wore bright red coats with gold braiding, and Chinese caps.
These were officers. The soldiers' matchlocks, to the rests of which red
and white flags were attached, gave a touch of colour to the otherwise
dreary scenery of barren hills and snow, and the tinkling of the
horse-bells enlivened the monotony of these silent, inhospitable
regions. They dismounted some three hundred yards from us, and one old
man, throwing aside his matchlock and sword in a theatrical fashion,
walked unsteadily towards us. We received him kindly, and he afforded us
great amusement, for in his way he was a strange character.
[Illustration: THE GUNKYO LAKE]
[Illustration: "I AM ONLY A MESSENGER"]
"I am only a messenger," he hastened to state, "and therefore do not pour
your anger upon me if I speak to you. I only convey the words of my
officers, who do not dare to come for fear of being injured. News has
been received at Lhassa, from whence we have come, that a _Plenki_ (an
Englishman) with many men is in Tibet, and can be found nowhere. We have
been sent to capture him. Are you one of his advance guard?"
"No," I replied drily. "I suppose that you have taken several months to
come from Lhassa."
"Oh no! Our ponies are good," he answered; "and we have come quickly."
"_Chik, ni, sum, shi, nga, do, diu, ghieh, gu, chu, chuck chick, chuck
ni_," the Tibetan counted up to twelve, frowning and keeping his head
inclined towards the right as if to collect his thoughts, at the same
time holding up his hand, with the thumb folded against the palm, and
turning down a finger as he called each number. The thumbs are never
used in counting. "_Lum chuck ni niman!_" "Twelve days," said he, "have
we been on the road. We have orders not to return till we have captured
the _Plenki_. And you?" asked he inquisitively, "how long have you taken
to come from Ladak?"
He said that he could see by my face that I was a Kashmeree, I being
probably so burnt and dirty that it was hard to distinguish me from a
native. The old man cross-examined me to find out whether I was a
_pundit_ sent by the Indian Government to survey the country, and asked
me why I had discarded my native clothes for _Plenki_ (European) ones. He
over and over again inquired whether I was not one of the _Plenki's_
party.
"_Keran ga naddo ung?_" ("Where are you going?") he queried.
"_Nhgarang no koroun Lama jehlhuong._" ("I am a pilgrim," I replied,
"going to visit monasteries.")
"_Keran mi japodù._" ("You are a good man.")
He offered to show me the way to the Gunkyo Lake, and was so pressing
that I accepted. However, when I saw the 200 soldiers mount and follow
us, I remonstrated with him, saying that if we were to be friends we did
not need an army to escort us.
"If you are our friend, you can come alone, and we will not injure you,"
I gave him to understand; "but if you are our enemy we will fight you and
your army here at once, and we will save you the trouble of coming on."
The Tibetan, confused and hesitating, went to confabulate with his men,
and returned some time after with eight of them, while the bulk of his
force galloped away in the opposite direction.
We went across the plain to 355° (b.m.), until we came to a hill range,
which we crossed over a pass 17,450 feet high. Then, altering our course
to 56° 30', we descended and ascended several hills, and at last found
ourselves in the grassy sheltered valley of the large Gunkyo Lake,
extending from South-East to North-West. With a temperature of 68°
(Fahr.) the water in hypsometrical apparatus boiled at 183° 3½' at 8.30
in the evening. The lake was of extraordinary beauty, with the high snowy
Gangri mountains rising almost sheer from its waters, and on the southern
side lofty hills forming a background wild and picturesque, but barren
and desolate beyond all words. At the other end of the lake, to the
North-West, were lower mountains skirting the water.
We encamped at 16,455 feet, and the soldiers pitched their tent some
fifty yards away.