The following morning my host left quite early, and the people of the tent, and of four or five others, broke up their camp and moved on in the direction in which I also was to proceed for my journey towards Lhasa. So I followed them, and trudged along the snow-covered ground in a south-easterly direction for about fifteen miles. I had not yet had occasion to talk with any of them, but I felt sure that they would again extend to me their hospitality, and at least allow me to share their tent at night, for they must see, I thought, that it was impossible for me to sleep outside among the snow-covered hills. In time the party made a halt, selected a suitable site for pitching their camp, scraped off the snow, and set up their tents. All that while I was watching the people at work, or gazing at the surrounding scenery. When the tent-pitching was finished, I asked the people of the tent in which I had slept the preceding night for permission to enjoy a similar favor again. I was astonished to receive from them a blunt refusal. Then I tried another tent, but with no better success, and my earnest requests at the five or six other tents were all in vain. I at last came to the only remaining tent, and I thought that as this was my last chance I must somehow or other persuade the inmates to admit me, whether they were willing to receive me or not; so I begged them—they were an old dame and her daughter—for permission to sleep in their tent, on the ground that I should probably be frozen to death if I were to stay outside in the snow on that cold night, and urged that they should take compassion on me. I added that I might repay their kindness with a suitable present of money. The old woman was not softened at all by my appeal. On the contrary she was angry with me, saying that I was insulting her by trying to force hospitality from her. Why had I not tried other tents inhabited by men, and why should I be so importunate with her alone? I was insulting her because she was a woman, she added, and she insisted on my leaving her tent. When I tried to protest against this merciless treatment she stood up in an awful passion, and raising aloft the Tibetan tongs, with which she was scraping together the kindled yak’s dung, she made as though she would strike me.
[CHAPTER XXXIII.]
At Death’s Door.
No one would take me into his tent, and I was thus quite at my wit’s end. I retired to a distance of some dozen yards and, looking at the four or five tents which appeared to be warm and cozy, remembered Buḍḍha’s words: “For him who has no relationship to me, it is very difficult to receive salvation from me.” These people were perfect strangers to me, and therefore slept comfortably in their tents, while I had to lie down on the cold ground, exposed to the severe winds. But, I thought, the fact that I had asked them for a lodging might have created a certain relationship, by means of which they might yet be saved, and that it would not be quite in vain if I read the Holy Texts for their salvation. Of course this was merely my duty as a follower of Buḍḍha, whose love is universal. So I sat down on the ground and recited the Buḍḍhist Text, with the kindest intentions. After a while the girl whom I had lately asked for a lodging peeped from her tent and stared at me, then hastily withdrew. Presently she appeared a second time and, approaching me, said that she supposed I was conjuring evil spirits to punish her and her mother for their refusal to lodge me. This must not be done, said she. She and her mother had now agreed that they should entertain me in their tent, and she had been sent for me. There was something comical in the fact that my kind intentions should be taken for revengeful motives, and that those motives should be rewarded with kindness. But I attributed all to the benevolence of Buḍḍha, and thankfully accepted the girl’s invitation. A Buḍḍhist service was held that evening.
The following morning I left the tent very early, and walked south-east for two miles and a half in a hilly district. Quite unexpectedly, two men rushed out from behind a rock and stopped me. As they did not seem like robbers, though they were armed, I was simple enough to think that they were natives of the place making a trip. They approached close to me and asked me what I had. I replied, “I had Buḍḍhism”. They did not understand what I said and exclaimed:
“What is that you have on your back?”
“That is my food.”
“What is that sticking out on your breast?”
“That is my silver.”