ATTACKED BY ROBBERS.
It is a rule among the robbers of Tibet that, having taken all they want, they should give their victim enough food for some three days, provided that the latter read the Texts and ask for food. I thought I would follow this custom, and I said that I possessed in my breast-cloth a silver pagoda, containing relics of Buḍḍha, which Mr. Ḍhammapāla of India had asked me to present to the Dalai Lama, and which I did not wish to lose. The highwaymen at once wanted to know if I could not give it to them, and I replied that if they wanted it I would give it, but that as a layman could not keep it properly, they must expect some misfortune as a punishment for their sacrilege.
So saying, I produced the pagoda and invited them to open it. This was probably more than they expected. They would not even touch it, but asked me to place it upon their heads with my benediction. I held the pagoda over their heads and, reciting the three Refuges and Five Commandments of Buḍḍha, prayed that their sins might be extinguished by the merit of Ḍharma.
Then I stood up, and was going to ask of them a few days’ rations, when two men on horseback put in an appearance far ahead, and before I could look round, the robbers had gathered together all that they had seized, and made off in the opposite direction. They ran over the mountains like hares, and it was quite out of the question for me to give them chase. I thought, therefore, to ask the horsemen for provisions. But for some reason or other they climbed a mountain ahead of me, and did not come as far as where I was. I called out to them and made signs by turning my right hand inwards, according to the Tibetan custom. Perhaps my voice did not reach them, or they had some business demanding urgent attendance, for they paid no attention to me. Still I had left eight Indian gold coins which I had kept close to my skin. My baggage having been greatly diminished, I placed it all on my goat, and went on with my journey. It was a steep mountain pass, and before I had travelled eight miles it became dark. The night was spent as usual in bivouacking in a crevice between the rocks.
The following morning I wished to take a north-easterly direction, so as to reach a certain post-town; but having no compass, I could not ascertain my bearings, and seem to have strayed off to the south-east and eventually due south, instead of north-east, as I should have done. The snow began to fall at three o’clock in the afternoon, and I walked and walked until the evening, but met not a single human being. I was exceedingly hungry, and so thirsty that I ate the snow. One meal a day would have been sufficient for me, but the absolute fasting gave me no small pain.
Darkness and hunger compelled me to stop, and I selected a hollow in the ground as my bed, clearing it of snow. As there is always a danger of being frozen dead when one is beset by a snow-storm in a vast plain, I took the precaution to hold my breath, so as to minimise the communication with the outside air, according to the methods learned during my Buḍḍhist training. This, I think, is the best method for bivouacking in the snow, and I soon fell asleep in the hollow.
On waking early next morning I saw the snow had fallen to a great depth, but the weather was fine; and when I looked around, I thought the mountains ahead resembled the hilly district called Nahru-ye, where I had once been in the company of some herdsmen. Proceeding further, I found the familiar Kyang-chu river, which I was delighted to see. Sustained by the hope of finding some old acquaintances at Nahru-ye, I walked some five miles in that direction. But nowhere was there any human being to be seen; there was nothing but the snow. I was almost despairing, owing to my extreme hunger and thirst, for I was entirely exhausted, though I had no heavy baggage to carry. But I had to walk on and on, eating a little snow from time to time to allay my hunger.
I thought that by travelling farther across the Kyang-chu river, I should reach the place where Alchu Lama lived. He never wandered far away from that place, and I might find him there; so I decided upon travelling in that direction. I crossed the river about nine miles above the place where I had crossed it on the previous occasion. The water had decreased to about one-fifth of its usual amount, and it was just freezing. I broke the ice with my sticks and crossed the river. If the ice had been thick, the crossing of the river would have been a very easy task, but the thin ice entailed the danger to the traveller of being thrown into the deep current, and injured by the ice-blocks. After many difficulties I reached the opposite bank, and walked due south.