nt of its sanctity that we were
allowed to plunge in the sacred Mansarowar Lake.

Later in the day my wounds and injuries were examined by Dr. Wilson, who
sent his reports to the Government of India, to the Commissioner of
Kumaon, and to the Deputy Commissioner at Almora.

[Illustration: DR. WILSON]

Tenderly nursed by Wilson and Karak Sing, and having partaken of plenty
of good food, I found my spirits, which had fallen rather low, reviving
as if by magic; and, strange to say, after a few hours of happiness, I
was already beginning to forget the hardships and suffering I had
endured. I remained three days at Taklakot, during which time part of my
confiscated baggage was returned by the Tibetans, and, as can well be
imagined, I was overjoyed to discover that among the things thus
recovered were my diary, note-books, maps and sketches. My firearms, some
money, the ring I have before referred to as having been a gift of my
mother, several mathematical instruments, collections, over 400
photographic negatives, and various other articles were still
missing,[38] but I was glad to get back as much as I did.

To Dr. Wilson's tent came the Tokchim Tarjum, his private secretary
Nerba, whom the reader may remember as having played an important part in
my tortures, the Jong Pen's secretary, and old Lapsang in a fine green
velvet coat with ample sleeves. As can be seen by perusing the Government
Enquiry and Report in the Appendix to this book, the above-mentioned
Tibetan officers admitted before the Political Peshkar, Dr. Wilson,
Pundit Gobaria, and many Shokas, that the account I gave of my
tortures--identical with the one in these pages--was correct in every
detail. They even professed to be proud of what they had done, and used
expressions not at all flattering to the British Government, which they
affected to treat with great contempt.

[Illustration: KARAK SING PAL, THE POLITICAL PESHKAR]

I nearly got the Political Peshkar and the Doctor into a scrape; for my
blood, the little I had left, was boiling with rage at hearing the
Tibetan insults. The climax came when Nerba refused to give back my
mother's ring, which he had upon him. In a passion I seized a knife that
was lying by me, and leaped upon Nerba, the ruffian who, besides, had
fired at me and had held me by the hair while my eyes were being burnt
prior to my abortive execution. Wilson and Karak Sing seized and
disarmed me, but there was a general stampede of the Ti