“Yes, but it seemed to grow quite light when they suddenly appeared. I think they were the souls of dead people. They were very ugly, sahib!”
“Were they as ugly as we are?”
“Yes, sahib, about the same! I think I recognised some of my relations among them.”
The poor fellow’s nerves were so shattered by the fright he had experienced that he never completely recovered from the shock.
In other works I have described how the natives on the borders of Tibet fear these spirits [[28]]of the mountains, and place obstacles, such as thorns, etc., along the paths in order to prevent them entering villages, while threads are placed along dangerous passages upon trails to facilitate the “good spirits of the mountains” of departed friends finding their way in the dark of the night without misadventure.
Going now in a northerly direction we came to Pithoragarh, a place of former importance, possessing the remains of a Nepalese fort, an elaborate structure of solid earth-works with platform for guns, a water-tank, and a much-loopholed quadrangular castle. These structures stand on prominent points in the centre of the green and well-cultivated valley,—some fourteen square miles in extent,—dotted here and there with little villages and houses and tufts of trees, and irrigated by several streams. A low hill-range in the centre separates the valley in two.
While taking a photograph of the forts I nearly and most unexpectedly trod on a big snake, some 8 feet in length, which lay spread in the sun. He raised his prettily arched neck at my approach and hissed with some vehemence, which I took for a request to stand back. Motionless, he gazed at me with his vitrine eyes, and he was so beautiful, [[29]]with iridescent scales shining like precious stones in the sun, that for one moment I could not help gazing at him. But as I had no stick nor any weapon upon me I cut short my part of this mutual admiration. When the snake described a graceful curve and departed, I, too, with somewhat less grace, made a speedy retreat in the opposite direction.
From Pithoragarh by quick marches I made rapid progress towards the frontier, visiting en route my old friend the Rajiwar of Askote, who had shown me much kindness when conveyed over the frontier after my captivity and tortures in Tibet two years previously. The entire town turned out to receive me, and I was again entertained by the Rajah in his palace.
It seemed rather a pity that this magnificent old fellow, whose faithfulness to the British had ever been exemplary, did not receive more courtesy from snobbish officials who occasionally visited his country, because, after all, courtesy costs nothing and goes a very long way with natives of all classes. The important services which he and his family have rendered in frontier matters with both Tibet and Nepal seemed to have been forgotten, and with the heavy taxation that had been imposed [[30]]upon him he found it difficult—at the time of my visit—to support himself and his numerous relations.
From a strategic point of view the Askote valley is the principal and practically the only highway, the key, as it were, to all the Himahlyan passes leading into Tibet from Bhot (both in Darma and in Bias), as well as those of Western Nepal. Perhaps the fact of having in such a spot a loyal subject, able to keep a sharp watch upon dangers that may impend in the future, would be more valued if it were more understood.