Below I met Radja and Ghond at breakfast. It was then that a monk who served us said: "Your pigeon came here for shelter yesterday." He gave a description of Gay-Neck, accurate even to the nature of his nose wattle, its size and colour. Ghond asked: "How do you know we seek a pigeon?" The flat-faced Lama, without even turning an eyelash, said in a matter of fact tone: "I can read your thoughts." Radja questioned with eagerness: "How can you read our thoughts?"
The monk answered: "If you pray to Eternal Compassion for four hours a day for the happiness of all that live, in the course of a dozen years He gives you the power to read some people's thoughts, especially the thoughts of those who come here.... Your pigeon we fed and healed of his fear when he took shelter with us."
"Healed of fear, my Lord!" I exclaimed.
The Lama affirmed most simply: "Yes, he was deeply frightened. So I took him in my hands and stroked his head and told him not to be afraid, then yestermorn I let him go. No harm will come to him."
"Can you give your reason for saying so, my Lord?" asked Ghond politely.
The man of God replied to him thus: "You must know, O Jewel amongst hunters, that no animal, nor any man, is attacked and killed by an enemy until the latter succeeds in frightening him. I have seen even rabbits escape hounds and foxes when they kept themselves free of fear. Fear clouds one's wits and paralyses one's nerve. He who allows himself to be frightened lets himself be killed."
"But how do you heal a bird of fear, my Lord?"
To that question of Radja's the holy one answered: "If you are without fear and you keep not only your thoughts pure but also your sleep untainted of any fear-laden dreams for months, then whatever you touch will become utterly fearless. Your pigeon now is without fear for I who held him in my hand have not been afraid in thought, deed and dream for nearly twenty years. At present your pet bird is safe: no harm will come to him."
By the calm conviction in his words, spoken without emphasis, I felt that in truth Gay-Neck was safe and in order to lose no more time, I said farewell to the devotees of Buddha and started south. Let me say that I firmly believe that the Lamas were right. If you pray for other people every morning you can enable them to begin their day with thoughts of purity, courage and love.
Now we dropped rapidly towards Dentam. Our journey lay through places that grew hotter and more familiar. No more did we see the rhododendrons. The autumn that further up had touched the leaves of trees with crimson, gold, cerise, and copper was not so advanced here. The cherry trees still bore their fruits; the moss had grown on trees thickly, and the wind had blown on them the pollen of orchids, large as the palm of your hand, blossoming in purple and scarlet. Many white daturas perspired with dewdrops in the steaming heat of the sun. The trees began to appear taller and terrible. Bamboos soared upwards like sky-piercing minarets. Creepers thick as pythons beset our path. The buzzing of the cicada grew insistent and unbearable, and jays jabbered in the woods. Now and then a flock of green parrots flung their emerald glory in the face of the sun, then vanished. Insects multiplied. Mammoth butterflies, velvety black, swarmed from blossom to blossom, and innumerable small birds preyed on numberless buzzing flies. We were stung with the sharpest stings of worms, and now and then we had to wait to let pass a serpent that crossed our path. Were it not for the practised eyes of Ghond who knew which way the animals came and went, we would have been killed ten times over by a snake or a bison. Sometimes Ghond would put his ear to the ground and listen. After several minutes he would say: "Ahead of us bisons are coming. Let us wait till they pass." And soon enough we would hear their sharp hoofs moving through the undergrowth with a sinister noise as if a vast scythe were cutting, cutting, cutting the very ground from under our feet. Yet we pressed on, stopping for half an hour for lunch. At last we reached the borders of Sikkim, whose small valley glimmered with ripening red millet, green oranges and golden bananas, set against hillsides glittering with marigolds above which softly shone the violets.