nces of success,
notwithstanding my incessant struggle, were getting smaller and smaller
every day. I could not but feel that there must be an end eventually to
the capability and endurance of my followers and myself. It is hard
enough to start on a difficult task, but when you are well started, and
have already overcome many difficulties, to have to come back and begin
again is more than galling.

The outlook was dark and gloomy; I stood face to face with apparent
failure, and I was uncertain of the loyalty of my own men.

At this camp, for instance, the Daku (brigand), who had changed his
disguise several times since coming in contact with the Tibetans,
announced his immediate departure. The doctor, with his usual kindness,
had already entreated him to remain, but without avail. We well knew that
in this region, infested by dacoits, this man was only leaving us to
recommence his late marauding habits. He would, in all probability, join
some band, and without much doubt we might soon expect a visit during the
darkest hours of the night. The Daku knew that I carried a large sum of
money, and during the last two days his behaviour had been more than
strange. Had he come across some of his mates? or had he heard from the
sepoys that they were in the neighbourhood?

The Daku had a bundle of his blankets strapped on his back in readiness
for immediate departure. My men, distressed at this new danger, came to
report it to me. I immediately sent for him. Speaking bluntly, and
keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, he said: "I am going, sahib."

"Where?" I inquired.

"I have friends near here, and I am going to them."

"Very good, go," I replied, calmly taking up my rifle.

His load was off his shoulder in less time than it takes to describe the
event. He resumed his work as usual. One or two other riotous coolies
were brought back to reason by similar menaces.

I heard later that a band of brigands attacked a party near the frontier
only two days after this occurred.

Another march back! How painful it was to me! Yet it was advisable. We
went a few miles and encamped on the bank of a rapid stream, the
Shirlangdu. From this point, with some difficulty and danger, it would be
possible to climb over the mountain range during the night, and attempt
to elude the spies and watchmen, by crossing the jungle to Mansarowar. I
made up my mind to attempt this. It seemed to add to the risk to have so
large a following as my thirt