alaamed once more, shaking in his shoes, if he wore
any. "Priest-sahib say, that all lies. That all dam-lies. You is
Eulopean missionary, very bad man; you want to go to Lhasa. But no white
sahib must go to Lhasa. Holy city, Lhasa; for Buddhists only. This is
not the way to Kulak; this not Maharajah's land. This place belong-a
Dalai-Lama, head of all Lamas; have house at Lhasa. But priest-sahib
know you Eulopean missionary, want to go Lhasa, convert Buddhists,
because... Ram Das tell him so."

"Ram Das!" I exclaimed, thoroughly angry by this time. "The rogue! The
scoundrel! He has not only deserted us, but betrayed us as well. He has
told this lie on purpose to set the Tibetans against us. We must face
the worst now. Our one chance is, to cajole these people."

The fat priest spoke again. "What does he say this time?" I asked.

"He say, Ram Das tell him all this because Ram Das good man--very good
man: Ram Das converted Buddhist. You pay Ram Das to guidee you to Lhasa.
But Ram Das good man, not want to let Eulopean see holy city; bring
you here instead; then tell priest-sahib about it." And he chuckled
inwardly.

"What will they do to us?" Lady Meadowcroft asked, her face very white,
though her manner was more courageous than I could easily have believed
of her.

"I don't know," I answered, biting my lip. "But we must not give way. We
must put a bold face upon it. Their bark, after all, may be worse than
their bite. We may still persuade them to let us go back again."

The men in yellow robes motioned us to move on towards the village and
monastery. We were their prisoners, and it was useless to resist. So I
ordered the bearers to take up the tents and baggage. Lady Meadowcroft
resigned herself to the inevitable. We mounted the path in a long line,
the Lamas in yellow closely guarding our draggled little procession. I
tried my best to preserve my composure, and above all else not to look
dejected.

As we approached the village, with its squalid and fetid huts, we caught
the sound of bells, innumerable bells, tinkling at regular intervals.
Many people trooped out from their houses to look at us, all flat-faced,
all with oblique eyes, all stolidly, sullenly, stupidly passive. They
seemed curious as to our dress and appearance, but not apparently
hostile. We walked on to the low line of the monastery with its
pyramidal roof and its queer, flower-vase minarets. After a moment's
discussion they ushered us into the te