Having discovered the best way to pass without being seen, I went back to my men, and led them, in the middle of the night, through the Tibetan camp. We proceeded for a mile or so beyond the encampment. Having selected a well-sheltered spot where we thought we could rest without fear of discovery, we laid down our loads and tried to get a few hours' sleep. At sunrise we were startled on finding our camp surrounded by a band of robbers. Our friends of the previous night had followed our tracks, and, mistaking us for Shoka traders, had now come for a little pleasant robbery. On drawing near they were given a somewhat warm reception. Their instant retreat was more speedy than dignified.
We wended our way along a narrow valley toward the shore of the Devil's Lake, halting to cook our food about half a mile from the water's edge. At this point I took observations for longitude, also the correct elevation with boiling-point thermometers. Water boiled at 185° with the temperature of the atmosphere at 64° Fahrenheit.
I had just repacked my instruments, and was lying flat in the sun, some distance away from my men, when I thought I saw something move. Jumping up, I caught sight of a stalwart Tibetan stealing along the ground only a few yards away from me, with the object, no doubt, of seizing my rifle. He was not quick enough. All he got was a good pounding with the butt of my Mannlicher. I recognized him; he was one of the brigands we had seen in the morning. They had followed and spied us all along. Having got over his first surprise and begged for mercy, the bandit, with an amusing air of assumed innocence, requested us to go and spend the night in his tent with him and his friends. They would treat us right royally, he said. Being well acquainted with the hospitality of robbers, we declined the invitation. The brigand went away somewhat shaken and disappointed. We continued our journey along the edge of the Devil's Lake. Hundreds of hares sprang all around us. So numerous were they that I killed several with my rifle, using bullet cartridges. There were signs all along that at some previous epoch the level of the lake must have been much higher than it is at present.
Marching during the day, we encountered many Tibetans, some of whom were Dogpas, others Jogpas, both nomad bands of robbers. When they saw us approaching they generally fled, driving their sheep and yaks in front of them. We came upon two Tibetan women, very dirty. Their faces were smeared with black ointment, as a protection for the skin and to prevent its cracking in the high wind. They were dressed in long sheepskin garments, worn out and filthy. The shaggy hair was so unwashed that it emitted a sickening odor. I ordered them not to come too near us.
Later four Tibetans, who attempted to snatch Chanden Sing's rifle out of his hand, received from him a battering they were not likely to forget. After this we were left alone for the remainder of the day. In the evening Chanden Sing fired at a black wolf which came close to camp. I discovered, about one hundred feet above the lake-level, imbedded in the mountain-side, a stratum of gigantic fossils, which, owing to their size and weight, I was unable to dig out and carry away.
Feeling almost certain that we were being spied upon all the time by the numerous Jogpas we had met, and knowing their favorite habit of attacking strangers at night while asleep, we generally resorted to a simple ruse. Before sunset we pretended to encamp, and having lighted a fire to let them think that we had halted for the night, after dark escaped, leaving the fire burning. Walking and stumbling for several miles, we eventually found a spot high on the hillside, where we considered ourselves safe. Snow fell heavily during the night, and as usual we woke up with icicles hanging from our mustaches, eyelashes, and hair. Otherwise we really felt happy and well.
It was my good-fortune to make quite sure, from many points, that the ridge between the Rakas and Mansarowar lakes was continuous, and no visible communication between the two lakes existed. With the exception of a small depression about half-way across, the ridge has an average height of 1000 feet all along—a fact which ought in itself to dispose of the theory held by some that the two lakes are connected by a wide channel intersecting this ridge. I ascertained from the natives that there was no visible communication between the lakes, though the depression in the ridge makes it probable that at a very remote period some connection existed. The lowest point in this depression in the centre of the ridge is over three hundred feet above the level of the lakes.