tween 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