elter over
us to prevent the light from being extinguished. At about six or seven
in the morning Mansing's feet were untied, but not his hands. I was left
in the same uncomfortable and painful posture. The hours passed slowly
and wearily. My legs, my arms, and hands had gradually become quite
lifeless. After the first six or seven hours that I had been stretched
on the rack, I felt no more actual pain. The numbness crept along every
limb of my body, until I had now the peculiar sensation of possessing a
living head on a dead body.

The day now dawning was one full of strange incidents. When the sun was
high in the sky, the Pombo, with a great number of Lamas, rode down from
the monastery, a short distance away. He went to his tent. Soon after,
my cases of scientific instruments were brought outside and opened, the
soldiers and Lamas displaying an amusing mixture of curiosity and
caution over everything they touched. I had to explain the use of each
instrument, a difficult matter indeed, considering their ignorance and
my limited knowledge of Tibetan, which did not allow of my delivering
scientific lectures in their language. The sextant was looked upon with
great suspicion, and even more so the hypsometrical apparatus, with its
thermometers in brass tubes, which they took to be some sort of firearm.
Then came a lot of undeveloped photographic plates, box after box of
which they opened in broad daylight, destroying in a few moments all the
valuable negatives that I had taken since leaving Mansarowar. The Pombo,
more observant than the others, noticed that the plates turned into a
yellowish color on being exposed to the light.

"Why is that?" he asked.

"It is a sign that you will suffer for what you are doing to me."

The Pombo flung away the plate he had picked up and was much upset. He
ordered a hole to be dug in the ground some way off, and all the plates
to be instantly buried. The soldiers, however, who had been intrusted
with the order, seemed loath to touch the plates, and they had to be
reprimanded and beaten by the Lamas, before they would obey. At last,
with their feet, they pushed the boxes of negatives to a spot some
distance off, where, in dog fashion, they dug a deep hole with their
hands in the muddy ground. There my precious photographic work of
several weeks was covered with earth forever.

Now came my paint-box with its cakes of water-colors.

"What do you do with these?" cried an angry Lama, poin