This he said suggestively, and continued in a solemn tone: “In order to attain your object, you may take any means. Your journey to Lhasa is not your only object. If you are sincere in saying that you want to save all beings, you must leave for Nepāl!”
I replied: “I cannot commit myself to such an equivocal argument, and I fail to concur in your opinion that any means is justifiable by its end. The Gospel of the Buḍḍha, Mighty Sun, has it that the means is the object, meaning that the practice of honest means is identical with the attainment of an object. The fact that I enter Paradise is no more the attainment of the object of my life, than is my arrival at Lhasa. The practice of honest means being the object itself, I believe that at the moment when I adopt honest means, I have attained my object.”
“Then what route will you take in your journey and whither will you go?”
“As a matter of fact, I shall take the mountain pass, and steer my way to the capital of Tibet.”
“That is curious, that you should take the road exposed to fatal risks. Better return to Nepāl. You say rash things. I know your future fate, and know that if you go on your way, you will die!”
His words were intimidating, but I replied: “Really? But I do not know my death, much less my birth. What I know is only to do what is honest.”
The Lama meditated for a while in deep silence, and then suddenly changed the conversation, referring to the Maṇi, or the sealed book of Tibet. I omit here our dialogue on this subject, as it is too technical for general readers. We were so taken up with our religious talk that we were unconscious of the approach of the evening.
The Lama’s suspicions were largely allayed, and he said that he wondered how the people of the neighborhood were able to invent such rumors, and that I was a true seeker after Buḍḍhism. He was sincerely delighted with me and, saying that money and provisions were my first necessaries, gave me twenty tankas of Tibetan silver, a lump of tea, a big bag of baked flour, a copper pan, and other articles required by travellers. The whole of the presents were valued at perhaps sixty tankas, or fifteen yen in Japanese currency. I asked him to reduce the amount of the presents, for I could not easily carry so much. He said there was no need for my being troubled about that; for all along my way farther on I should everywhere find his disciples, who when they saw the travelling bag, would remember their master and carry the baggage for me. So I accepted the presents and retired, but not before he had promised to invest me the next morning with the mysterious power of the Maṇi, for which I thanked him sincerely.
During that night, I decided to take the highway to Lhasa, for, I thought the mountain pass was full of the Lama’s disciples, who, in spite of their master, would cast suspicious eyes on me, and I concluded, that if the highway was a little longer than the bye-way, it was much safer.
The following morning I was initiated in the mysteries of Maṇi, and about noon the following day I left the Lama Gelong’s cave. For about five miles I descended the hill, carrying my baggage on my back, and it was pretty heavy. Then I proceeded north, with the object of reaching the highway and not as directed by the Lama, and when I had walked another five miles, I saw two tents and a man, apparently a wealthy grazier, coming out from one of them and cordially greeting me. I was rather surprised, for I knew I had no acquaintances in that neighborhood and I did not know his face. I felt a little embarrassed, but I followed him into his tent, where I was met by Alchu Lama. He had stayed the previous evening at the tent, and had told the man of our blessed religious talk of the other night. The man, in consequence, had wished to receive my benediction. Being informed of these facts, I did as he wished. Soon after I left the place, accompanied by a man and two horses carrying my things. I travelled eight miles east along the bank of the Ngar Tsang-gi-chu, which I had crossed once on my way from the cave of the White Cliff to the snowy peak of Tise. The same evening I arrived in a place on the riverside, where the man who had accompanied me put down my baggage and took his leave. During the evening, I enquired about the best way to reach the high-road, and was informed that I had to cross the Brahmapuṭra for a second time, and that I needed a guide and a carrier in order to cross it. So I engaged the men required.