[CHAPTER LXXXVIII.]
The Final Gate Passed.
I handed over to my servant the note received from the supervisor of the fifth guard-house.
“Take the note to Tomo-Rinchen-gang,” said I to the servant privately; “you must get two notes there instead; but in Pimbithang, if it requires a long time to get one, go to the wife of the Chinese military officer, and rely on her; she will manage the matter exactly as we want.”
“That he gave it so soon,” said he, somewhat surprised, “was almost like a dream. If you do not go with me, I shall never get consent from Tomo-Rinchen-gang.”
“I thought so too,” said I, “but when I told the supervisor so, he told me that as everything is mentioned in this note, it is certain that the Chief of Tomo-Rinchen-gang will write a note to be sent to Pimbithang. He also said that I need not go there but should send the servant there, and myself wait here.”
The servant then, after receiving from me a note stamped with the seal of the supervisor, went back to Tomo-Rinchen-gang as fast as he could. On arriving there, he presented the note to the chief, and waited for a while. As the special instruction from the supervisor was mentioned on it, he at once made the two copies and gave them to the servant, who took them, and again went back two miles further to Pimbithang, to receive one written in Chinese characters.
As the time was about half past one when the servant arrived there, the keeper declined to give him a note. Consequently, according to my instructions, he went to the house of the Chinese military officer and requested his wife to obtain the immediate delivery of the note he needed. She, without any hesitation, ran to the guard-house to see her husband, and told him to give it at once. When he told her that it was too late to give one and that he must wait till the next day, she lost her temper and exposed the true character of a Tibetan woman. Whereupon, the henpecked husband yielded to her demands and gave a note to the servant, who came back with it about four o’clock in the afternoon.
Rain was falling that day, and though I had thought of stopping a night there, it was better for us to depart if possible. If we left there and walked about half a day we should enter British India.
“To-day is rainy and walking is hard,” said the supervisor, “and furthermore, the distance from here to Nakthang is somewhat great, there being no inn on the way. But if you walk for about eight miles, there is one house; and it would be a good plan for you to stop there to-night. By doing so, to-morrow you may easily go to Nakthang; but if not, even if you start from here at three o’clock in the morning, it would be impossible to get there; I advise you therefore, though it is troublesome, to start from here to-day, since you have very important business to perform.”