k after the Dalai Lama.

_Katas_ were distributed after this religious performance to all the
Tibetans present, and they folded them and stowed them away in their
coats.

[Illustration: THE FINALE OF THE DANCE]

CHAPTER XCII

Compliments exchanged--A poisoned drink proffered--In acute
pain--Uncertainty as to our fate--Working the oracle--My webbed
fingers.

THE Pombo came out of his gaudy tent, and I told him that the dance was
beautiful, but that I was very hungry. He asked me what I wanted to eat,
and I said I would like some meat and tea.

A little later, a large vessel with a delicious stew of yak's meat was
brought to me, as well as _tsamba_ in abundance. However, though I felt
quite famished, I had the greatest difficulty in swallowing even a little
food. This I thought must be owing to the injuries to my spine and to the
mortification of my limbs, which had apparently affected my whole system
except my head.

When the Pombo had retired and night came on, I was again tied to the
stretching log, but this time with my limbs not stretched so far apart.
My hands, too, were again fastened to the pillar behind, but with no
strain on them.

Late in the evening, half a dozen Lamas came from the monastery with a
light and a large brass bowl which they said contained tea. The wounded
Lama, with his head all bandaged up, was among them, and he was so
anxious for me to drink some of it to keep myself warm during the cold
night that I became suspicious. When they pushed a bowl of the liquid to
my lips, I merely sipped a little, and declined to take more, spitting
out what they had forced into my mouth. I swallowed a few drops, and a
few minutes later I was seized with sharp, excruciating pains in my
stomach, which continued for several days after. I can but conclude that
the drink proffered me was poisoned.

The following day my left foot, which had remained lifeless since I had
been untied from the rack the first time, began to get better, and the
circulation was gradually restored. The pain was unbearable.

In the morning indecision again prevailed as to what was to be done to
us. A number of Lamas were still anxious to have us beheaded, whereas the
Pombo and the others had the previous night almost made up their minds to
send us back to the frontier. Unfortunately, it appears[36] that the
Pombo had seen a vision during the night in which a spirit told him that,
if he did not kill us, he a