olutely refused to go back south. I held a
council with my men, now apparently resigned to their fate. They agreed
to accompany me as far as the Maium Pass (on the road to Lhassa), which
we reckoned we could reach in fifteen to eighteen marches. They further
agreed to endeavor to obtain yaks and food for me, and I was then to
dismiss them.

From the summit of the hill I had climbed I had taken careful bearings.
At night, aided by my luminous compass, I led my men high up along the
mountain range at an average elevation of 1500 feet above the
Gyanema-Taklakot track.

The night was dark and stormy. We encountered much difficulty on our
journey forward, owing to the slippery ground. Where it was not slippery
we trod over troublesome loose stones. We could not see far ahead.
Though we well knew from the angle of the slope that we were travelling
along a precipice, we could not distinguish anything under us except a
very bright streak far, far down below--undoubtedly the river.

I could not explain the luminosity of the water. It did not seem to come
from reflection of the light of stars or the moon, because the sky was
cloudy at the time. The river had a curious greenish tint, closely
resembling the light produced by an electric discharge. In the more
dangerous spots we had to proceed for long distances on all-fours. Even
then we felt hardly safe, for we could hear the sound of the stones
rolling down the steep slope, and by the length of time they took to
reach the bottom we knew that we were proceeding over a precipice of
extraordinary height. So difficult and painful was the walking that it
took us about four hours to go some three miles. We felt so exhausted
that from time to time we had to lie down and rest, shivering with cold.
Our hands were bleeding from cuts caused by the sharp stones. I mustered
my men. Poor Mansing, the leper, was missing. When we last spoke to him
he was moaning under his load, and he constantly stumbled and fell. Two
men were sent in search, but after an hour's absence they failed to
discover him. Faithful Chanden Sing and the Shoka Dola were then
despatched to his rescue. After another hour of anxiety the two
returned, bringing the unfortunate coolie with them. The poor fellow's
hands and feet were badly cut. The pain in the latter was so great that
he could no more stand erect. He had fallen in a faint from exhaustion,
and it was by a mere chance that in the darkness Chanden Sing stumbled