hen proceeded along the right
bank of the main stream.

We were so exhausted and wet that when near the evening we came to an
enormous cliff, on the rocky face of which a patient Lama sculptor had
engraved in huge letters the characters, _Omne mani padme hun_, we
halted. The gorge was very narrow here. We found a dry spot under a big
bowlder, but as there was not sufficient room for all five, the two
Shokas went under the shelter of another rock a little way off. This
seemed natural enough. I took care of the weapons and the scientific
instruments, while the Shokas had under their own sheltering bowlder the
bags containing nearly all our provisions except the reserve of tinned
meats. The rain pelted all night, the wind howled. Again we could not
light a fire. The thermometer did not descend below 38 deg., but the cold,
owing to our drenched condition, seemed intense. In fact, we were so
chilled that we did not venture to eat. Crouching in the small dry space
at our disposal and without tasting food, we eventually fell fast
asleep. I slept soundly for the first time since I had been in Tibet.
It was broad daylight when I woke up.

[Illustration: CAMP WITH GIGANTIC INSCRIPTIONS]

Taking advantage of the storm, the men Nattoo and Bijesing had escaped
during the night with the loads intrusted to them. I discovered their
tracks, half washed away, in the direction from which we had come the
previous night. The rascals had bolted, and there would have been
comparatively little harm in that, if only they had not taken with them
all the stock of provisions for my two Hindoo servants, and a quantity
of good rope, straps, and other articles, which we were bound to miss at
every turn, and which we had absolutely no means of replacing.

Of thirty picked servants who had started with me, twenty-eight had now
abandoned me. Only two remained faithful: Chanden Sing and Mansing the
leper!

The weather continued horrible. No food for my men and no fuel! I
proposed to the two Hindoos to go back also and let me continue alone. I
described to them the dangers of following me farther, and warned them
fully, but they absolutely refused to leave me.

"Sir, we are not Shokas," were their words. "If you die, we will die
with you. We fear not death. We are sorry to see you suffer, sir, but
never mind us. We are only poor people, therefore it is of no
consequence."

This last disaster should, I suppose, have deterred us from further
progre