IN STRANGE COMPANY
Just before leaving the shores of the Rakastal I had a great piece of luck. We had been detected by another band of brigands, who were trying to overtake us. I had watched them with my telescope as they rode toward us. They were driving some twenty yaks in front of them at a fast pace. The brigands rode ponies. We were about a mile and a half ahead of them, and close to the edge of the Devil's Lake. We saw them coming down the hillside at a breakneck speed straight in our direction. It was evident that they were after us. My men became terror-stricken when I gave order to halt.
The band of highwaymen approached, leaving the yaks in charge of two women. When they galloped in a line toward us, my men, with the exception of Chanden Sing and Mansing, were paralyzed with fright.
The brigands were now one hundred yards off. With loaded rifle in one hand and my camera in the other, I advanced to meet them, knowing that, with their old-fashioned matchlocks, it took them a considerable time to light the fusee and fire a shot. Moreover, it was almost an impossibility for them to fire on horseback, their weapons being heavy and cumbersome.
THE BANDITS LAID DOWN THEIR ARMS
I focussed them in my twin-lens photographic apparatus, and waited till I had them well in the field. I snapped the picture when they were only thirty yards away, vaulting over their ponies in the act of dismounting. The camera, having done its work, was quickly deposited on the ground, and the rifle shouldered. I shouted to them to put down their weapons. To give force to my request I aimed at them with my Mannlicher.
A meeker lot of brigands I do not believe could be found anywhere. People of that kind were only brave when it was easy for them to be courageous. The matchlocks were quickly unslung from their shoulders and flung to the ground. Their jewelled swords were laid by the side of the firearms. The bandits went down on their knees, and taking off their caps with both hands, put out their tongues in sign of salute and submission. I could not help taking another photograph of them in that comical attitude.
Chanden Sing, who had been left to look after the baggage, had placed Mansing in charge, and was now by my side with the Martini-Henry rifle, when one of the women, riding astride, arrived on the scene. She was evidently furious at the cowardice of her men. I liked her for that. She jumped off her steed, ejaculated words at the top of her voice, shaking her fists at the men still kneeling before me, and at last, foaming with rage, spat on them. While thus haranguing the band of highwaymen, she had an annoying way of pointing at my baggage; but her speech seemed to have little effect on the submissive crowd.
I went up to her, patted her on the back, and offered her a rupee if she would hold her tongue. She grabbed the coin, and rubbed it on her skin coat to make the silver shine. She instantly became calm, and rubbing the coin until it was quite bright, she raised her fiery eyes, staring into mine, and put out her tongue to express her thanks.