d Dola's a good
ducking in the freezing Kali River.

This had the unfortunate effect of sending them to sleep so soundly that
I thought they would never wake again. Some of the sober Shokas offered
to carry the two helpless men on their backs. We were wasting valuable
time and the sky was getting clouded. When the moon had disappeared
behind the high mountain, I went ahead to reconnoitre. All was darkness
but for the glimmer of a brilliant star here and there in the sky. I
crawled to the bridge and listened. Not a sound, not a light on the
opposite bank. All was silence, that dead silence of nature and human
life asleep. I stopped on the bridge. This structure spans the river, a
huge boulder in the centre of the stream serving as a pillar, and forms,
in fact, two separate bridges joined on the opposite sides of this
central boulder. I walked cautiously across the first portion, stood to
listen again on the rock dividing the foaming waters, and tried to
penetrate the obscurity. There was not a soul to be seen, nor a sound to
be heard. I went over the rock and proceeded towards the second half of
the bridge, when I found to my horror that this second half of the bridge
had been cut down. The entire section had collapsed, and with the
exception of a long beam still swinging to and fro with one end in the
turbid stream, and a plank or two, the whole material had been washed
away.

I returned to my men.

"We must continue our way on this side of the river," I whispered to
them. "The Tibetans have destroyed the bridge."

"The track is traced," they replied, "but it is impassable at night."

"Never mind; we must go. Come." And I headed the silent procession.

We went about a mile. Yet another dilemma. Kachi and Dola were still fast
asleep. The others, tired and worn out with the fatigue of carrying them,
wished to turn back. The sky was now clouded all over and rain was coming
on.

I felt that it was useless to persist. Having seen the two drunken
creatures laid flat under a shed, and well covered with blankets, I
therefore returned to Garbyang, with the intention of making a fresh
start shortly before sunrise, when the drunkards would probably be fit to
walk by themselves, and found shelter under the ever hospitable roof of
Dr. Wilson.

CHAPTER XIX

A dangerous track--Perilous passage--A curious bridge over a
precipice--Pathetic Shoka custom--Small misadventures--A grand
reception--Tea for all