supernatural powers, for it would keep them from getting too
close to us.

Three more long days were spent in painful anxiety regarding the fate of
our messengers. We feared that they had been captured and beheaded. We
had retired in despair to our fortress. It was 10 P.M. We were worn out
and ready to turn in. Our fire at the bottom of the creek was slowly
dying out. Nature around us was as still and silent as death. I suddenly
heard sounds of approaching steps. We listened, peeping through the
narrow openings in our wall. Were these Tibetans trying to surprise us
in our sleep or were they my men returning at last?

We closely watched the gorge from which the sounds came--yes, faint
sounds of voices and of footsteps. At last four staggering figures
crawled cautiously into camp. We could not even then discern in the dim
light whether they were our messengers or not.

"_Kuan hai?_" (Who is there?) I shouted.

"Dola!" replied a voice. We gave them a joyful and hearty greeting, but
our happiness was not to last long. The men did not respond. They seemed
quite exhausted and terrified. I asked them to explain the cause of
their distress. Sobbing and embracing my feet, they at first declined to
tell me. Grave, indeed, was the news they brought.

"Your days are numbered, sir!" at last cried Dola. "It is impossible for
you to get out of this country alive!... They will kill you! The Jong
Pen of Taklakot says he must have your head at any cost."

"Do not look so far ahead, Dola," I replied, trying to console him.
"Tell me, first, how you reached Taklakot?"

"Oh, sahib, we followed your plan. We suffered much on the road. The
marches were long and severe, and we had little food. We walked day and
night for two days, keeping away from the track, and hiding whenever we
saw any one. When we got near the Tibetan fort we saw, at the foot of
the hill, a few tents of Shokas from Nepal. None of the Shokas from
British Territory had been allowed to enter Tibet. A guard kept a sharp
lookout day and night in order to arrest anybody entering the country
from that side. Two fakirs, who were on a pilgrimage to the sacred
Mansarowar Lake, unaware of the danger, had crossed over the Lippu
Pass, and had proceeded down to Taklakot. They were immediately seized
and accused of being you, sir, in disguise. As the Tibetans were not
quite certain as to which of the two was the disguised Englishman, they
severely punished both, beating them almos