ite this, their wild shouts, their bloodthirsty countenances, are
vividly brought before me. Apparently against his will, the executioner
went through the same kind of performance on the other side of my head.
This time the blade passed so near that the point cannot have been more
than half an inch or so from my neck.

It seemed as if all would soon be over; yet, strange to say, even at this
culminating moment I did not seriously realise that I should die. Why
this was so I cannot say, because everything pointed towards my end being
very near; but I had a feeling all the time that I should live to see the
end of it all. I was very sorry, if my end were really at hand, as it
seemed likely, that I should die without seeing my parents and friends
again, and that they probably would never know how and where I had died.
One is naturally at all times reluctant to leave a world in which one has
barely had a dull moment, but, after all my wretched experiences,
sufferings and excitement, I did not realise my peril so much as I should
have done had I, for instance, been dragged from my comfortable London
flat direct on to the execution-ground, instead of first having lived
through the recent past.

Naturally the scene is one that I am not likely to forget, and I must say
for the Tibetans that the whole affair was very picturesquely carried
out. Even the ghastliest ceremonies may have their artistic side, and
this particular one, performed with extra pomp and flourish, was really
impressive.

It appears that the unpleasant sword exercise is sometimes gone through
in Tibet previous to actually cutting off the head, so as to make the
victim suffer more before the final blow is given. I was not aware of
this at the time, and only learnt it some weeks after. It is usually at
the third stroke that the victim is actually beheaded.

The Lamas were still clamouring for my head, but the Pombo made a firm
stand this time, and declined to go on with the execution. They collected
round him and seemed very angry; they shouted and yelled and gesticulated
in the wildest fashion; and still the Pombo kept his eyes upon me in a
half-respectful, half-frightened manner, and refused to move.

CHAPTER LXXXVI

Mansing arrives--A pretence of killing him--Our execution
postponed--Fed by the Lamas.

AN excited consultation followed, during which, in the midst of this
scene of barbarity, my coolie Mansing arrived. He had fallen off