Much to our delight, we succeeded in purchasing a goat from some passing Tibetans, who drove before them a flock of several thousand. We could not find sufficient dry fuel to make a fire, so we intrusted Mansing with the animal as far as our next camp, where we proposed to indulge in a feast.
The Brahmaputra had here several ramifications, mostly ending in lakelets, and rendering the plain a regular swamp. The larger arm of the river was wide and deep, and we preferred following it to crossing it, notwithstanding that we had to deviate somewhat from the course which otherwise I should have followed. For several miles we sank in mud and slush up to our knees, or waded through water. There were small patches of soft earth with tufts of grass which rose above the water, but they collapsed on our attempting to stand upon them.
The whole of the northern part of the plain was extremely marshy. Our yaks gave us no end of trouble. When they sank unexpectedly in soft mud-holes, they became alarmed, and, in their struggle to save themselves, once or twice shook off their pack-saddles and loads, which we had not been able to fasten properly for want of proper ropes. Chanden Sing and I managed to keep up with the restless animals. At last, on nearing the hills, the ground showed undulations, and was rather drier. We saw columns of smoke rising from near the foot of the range to the north of us. We went on another two miles, exhausted and dirty, our clothes, on which we had spent so much soap and time in washing, filthy again with splashes of mud.
"Where are Mansing and the goat?" I asked the Hindoo.
"He remained behind at the beginning of the swamp. He was too exhausted to drag along the goat you purchased."
I was much concerned, on scouring from a hillock the country all round with my telescope, to perceive no sign whatever of the poor fellow. I was angry with myself for not noticing his disappearance before. As there were many Tibetans about the spot where he had remained, I feared foul play on their part, and that he might have been overpowered. Again I imagined that, weak as he was, he might have been sucked down in one of the deeper mud-holes, without a chance of saving himself. I left Chanden Sing to look after the yaks, and turned back in search of him. As I hurried back mile after mile, struggling again half across the mud swamp, and yet saw no trace of the poor coolie, I was almost giving up my quest in despair, when my eye caught sight of something moving about half a mile farther on. It was the goat, all alone. I made for it with a sinking heart.
It was only on getting quite close that I perceived the poor coolie, quite insensible in a faint, lying flat and half sunk in the mud. Fortunately he had taken the precaution of tying the rope to which the goat was fastened tight round his arm. To it only was due my discovering Mansing's whereabouts, not to speak of the rescue of our precious acquisition. With some rubbing and shaking I brought the poor fellow back to life, and helped him along until we rejoined Chanden Sing. Not until the middle of the night did we reach Tarbar, a large Tibetan encampment at the foot of the hill range.
The alarm of our arrival, given first by scores of dogs barking at us, then by one of the natives who had ventured peeping out of his tent to find out the cause of the disturbance, created the usual panic in the place.
"Gigri duk! gigri duk! Jogpa, Jogpa!" (Danger! danger! Help, brigands, brigands!) cried the Tibetan, running frantically out of his tent. A few seconds later black figures could be seen everywhere, dashing in and out of their tents. It must be remembered that, according to the manners of Tibet, one should time one's arrival at an encampment so as to reach it before sundown, unless notice of one's approach is sent ahead. People who arrive unexpectedly in the middle of the night are never credited with good motives—nothing short of murder, robbery, or extortion. I tried to set the minds of the Tibetans at ease by telling them that I meant no harm, but such was their excitement and fright that I could get no one to listen to me.
Two old women came to us with a bucket of milk and laid it at my feet, entreating me to spare their lives. Great was their astonishment when, instead of finding themselves murdered, they received a silver rupee in payment. This was the first step toward a peaceful settlement of the disturbance. After some time calm was restored, and though still regarded with suspicion, we were politely treated by the natives.