height, driving the grit and snow like spikes into our faces;
when the wind and cold seemed to penetrate with biting force to the
marrow of our bones, when, as it seemed, all the gods were giving vent to
their anger by putting every obstacle in our way, a handful of silent
men, half frozen and staggering, left the camp to face the blizzard. I
ordered my men to keep close together, and we made immediately for the
mountain side, taking care to avoid the places where we supposed the
Tibetan spies were posted.

We could not have selected a more suitable night for our escape. It was
so dark that we could only see a few inches in front of our noses. The
doctor, silent and with a swelling heart, accompanied me for a couple of
hundred yards. I urged him to return to the tent. He stopped to grasp my
hand, and in a broken voice the good man bade me farewell and God-speed.

"The dangers of your journey," whispered Wilson, "are so great and so
numerous that God alone can guide you through. When I think of the cold,
hunger and hardships you will have to endure, I can but tremble for you."

"Good-bye, doctor," said I, deeply moved.

"Good-bye," he repeated, "good----" and his voice failed him.

Two or three steps and the darkness separated us, but his touching words
of farewell rang and echoed in my ears, as with sadness I remembered the
loyalty and cheerful kindness of this good friend. The journey towards
Lhassa had recommenced in grim earnest. In a short while our ears,
fingers, and toes were almost frozen, and the fast driving snow beat
mercilessly against our faces, making our eyes ache. We proceeded like so
many blind people, speechless and exhausted, rising slowly higher on the
mountain range, and feeling our way with our feet. As we reached greater
altitudes it grew still colder, and the wind became more piercing. Every
few minutes we were compelled to halt and sit close together in order to
keep warm and get breath, as the air was so rarefied that we could barely
proceed under our heavy loads.

We heard a whistle, and sounds like distant voices. My men collected
round me, whispered, "_Dakus, dakus!_" ("Brigands, brigands!"), and then
threw themselves flat on the snow. I loaded my rifle and went ahead, but
it was vain to hope to pierce the obscurity. I listened. Yet another
shrill whistle!

My Shokas were terrified. The sound seemed to come from straight in front
of us. We slightly altered our course, winning our way up