Whether it is that storms come when one is depressed, or whether one gets depressed when storms approach, I am not prepared to say. On this occasion, when I was indeed very depressed, and before we had time to pitch our tents, the wind, which had been high all through the afternoon, increased tenfold. The clouds became black and threatening, and snow soon fell in feathery flakes.
"What are you going to do?" inquired the doctor of me. "I think you had better return to Garbyang, get fresh men, and make another start."
"No, doctor. I will die rather than continue this backward march. I have resolved to start alone to-night. I am convinced that I shall have better success. I shall find my way over the range."
"No, no, it is impossible, Mr. Landor!" cried the doctor, with tears in his eyes. "That must mean death to any one attempting it."
I told him I was quite determined to go.
The poor doctor was dumfounded. He knew that it was quite useless to try to dissuade me. I went into the tent to rearrange my baggage, making the load I intended to carry on my back as light as possible. My scientific instruments, money, and cartridges already made a good weight to carry on my person.
While I was making preparations for my journey Kachi Ram entered the tent. He looked perplexed.
"What are you doing, sir?" he inquired. "The doctor says you are going to leave alone to-night, cross the mountain range, and go to Lhassa by yourself."
"Yes; that is true."
"Oh, sir, the perils and dangers are too great! You cannot go."