n their sheaths. The four
officers approached, and when quite close to us, threw the bags on the
ground and opened them to show us the contents. There was _tsamba_,
flour, _chura_ (a kind of cheese), _guram_ (sweet paste), butter, and
dried fruit. The officers were most profuse in their salutations. They
had removed their caps and thrown them on the ground, and they kept
their tongues sticking out of their mouths until I begged them to draw
them in. They professed to be the subordinates of the Tokchim Tarjum,
who had despatched them to inquire after my health, and who wished me to
look upon him as my best friend. Well aware of the difficulties we must
encounter in travelling through such an inhospitable country, the
Tarjum, they said, wished me to accept the gifts they now laid before
me. With these they handed me a _kata_, or "the scarf of love and
friendship," a long piece of thin silk-like gauze, the end of which had
been cut into a fringe. In Tibet these _katas_ accompany every gift. A
caller is expected instantly on arrival to produce a _kata_ for
presentation to his host. The High Lamas sell _katas_ to devotees. One
of these scarves is presented to those who leave a satisfactory offering
after visiting a Lamasery. If a verbal message is sent to a friend, a
_kata_ is sent with it. Among officials and Lamas small pieces of this
silk gauze are enclosed even in letters. Not to give or send a _kata_ to
an honored visitor is considered a breach of good manners, and is
equivalent to a slight.

I hastened to express my thanks for the Tarjum's kindness, and I handed
the messengers a sum in silver of three times the value of the articles
presented. The men seemed pleasant and friendly, and we chatted for
some time. Much to my annoyance, poor Mansing, bewildered at the sight
of so much food, could no longer resist the pangs of hunger. Caring
little for the breach of etiquette and likely consequences, he proceeded
to fill his mouth with handfuls of flour, cheese, and butter. This led
the Tibetans to suspect that we must be starving, and with their usual
shrewdness they determined to take advantage of our condition.

"The Tarjum," said the oldest of the messengers, "wishes you to come
back and be his guest. He will feed you and your men, and you will then
go back to your country."

"Thank you," I replied; "we do not want the Tarjum's food, nor do we
wish to go back. I am greatly obliged for his kindness, but we will
continu