"Well, I guess we'll get along then. I ought to be able to cook well enough to suit a man of your enfeebled condition," and Chad looked at Jim's broad shoulders in some amusement in spite of the seriousness of the situation.
"Really, Chad, is it safe to go on? Do you think we ought to risk it?"
"Risk it! Are we going to take three months for preparation, and then come four thousand miles on a trip of this sort, only to give it up in sight of the end, because a rogue runs off? Well, I guess not."
"All right," Jim returned laconically, "I just wanted to know how you felt about it."
Some three hours later the two men were wrapped up in their furs ready for the night. "Say, Chad," said Jim, as he lay watching the stars in the clear sky, "what makes a Chinaman so afraid of a camera? I am quite certain that you never told me."
"I believe that they think a man's soul is killed when his picture is taken," said Chad sleepily. "'Buddha doesn't like it' is quite reason enough for most of 'em." The last sentence was half lost in a snore, and the Grand Lama was photographed a dozen times in Jim's dreams.
The next morning the two men set out again with the one donkey and its load which the Chinaman left to them, and, after a few hours' hard travel, they came to the mountain spur just above the capital of Tibet. The city was well within range, and a few minutes after they had arrived the camera was set up, and Chad was finding the focus. While they were both occupied busily, a group of yellow-clad figures was approaching from a lamasery that was half-hidden on the mountainside. The leader of the band, a one-eyed Chinaman with an almost idiotic expression, was evidently greatly respected by his followers; for the party did not change its position without his direction. Slowly and with the utmost caution they approached the unconscious workers and surrounded them; then with a yell the mob of Buddhist priests was about the camera. In another instant it was rattling down the mountainside, Chad and Jim were firmly bound, and the march back had begun.
The few rays of sunlight that found entrance into the Buddhist lamasery served only to reveal the filthiness of the place; but not even the disgusting sights and odors could suppress the strangers' curiosity. In the first room was an immense statue of Buddha with a large cylinder in front of it. "A prayer wheel," whispered Chad. Jim nodded.
Suddenly Chad's eyes flashed with an inspiration. Turning to the leader he exclaimed, "You speak English now, don't you?"
The man bowed gravely, courteously. The honorable strangers' honorable conversation was greatly edifying, he murmured.