he
produces for presentation to his host. The high Lamas sell them to
devotees, and one or more of these scarves is presented to those who
leave a satisfactory oblation after visiting a lamasery and temple. If a
verbal message is sent to a friend, a _Kata_ is sent with it, and among
officials and Lamas small pieces of this silk gauze are enclosed even in
letters. Not to give or send a _Kata_ to an honoured visitor is
considered a breach of good manners and is equivalent to a slight.

[Illustration: A KATA]

I hastened to express my thanks for the Tarjum's kindness, and I handed
the messengers a sum in silver of three times the value of the articles
presented. The men seemed very pleasant and friendly, and we chatted for
some time. Much to my annoyance, poor Mansing, bewildered at the sight of
so much food, could no longer resist the pangs of hunger and, caring
little for the breach of etiquette and likely consequences, proceeded to
fill his mouth with handfuls of flour, cheese and butter. This led the
Tibetans to suspect that we must be starving, and with their usual
shrewdness they determined to take advantage of it.

"The Tarjum," said the oldest of the messengers, "wishes you to come back
and be his guest, when he will feed you and your men, and you will then
go back to your country."

"Thank you," I replied; "we do not want the Tarjum's food, nor do we wish
to go back. I am greatly obliged for his kindness, but we will continue
our journey."

"Then," angrily said a young and powerful Tibetan, "if you continue your
journey we will take back our gifts."

"And your _Kata!_" I rejoined, sending first the large ball of butter
flying into his chest, and after it the small bags of flour, _tsamba_,
cheese, fruit, &c., a minute earlier prettily laid out before us.

This unexpected bombardment quite upset the Tibetans, who, with powdered
coats, hair and faces, scampered away as best they could, while Chanden
Sing, always as quick as lightning when it was a case of hitting, pounded
away with the butt of his rifle at the roundest part of one ambassador's
body, as in his clumsy clothes he attempted to get up and run.

Mansing, the philosopher of our party, interrupted in his feed but not
put out, nor concerned in what was going on, picked up the fruit and
cheese and pieces of butter scattered all over the place, mumbling that
it was a shame to throw away good food in such a reckless fashion.

The soldiers, who had bee