Almost at the last moment before setting out, while lists of the muleteers were being taken, in order to ascertain their respective chiefs, so as to know who should be held responsible, in case of default or robbery, the tsawbwas of Ponsee and Talone discovered that Sala, when at Bhamô, had received a musket as a present. Their informant was the treacherous Moung Shuay Yah, who instigated them to stand on their dignity and demand a similar gift. Compliance was impossible, so they refused their services, and prowled about in sneaking silence, ostentatiously taking lists of ourselves and of our baggage. By two o’clock a start was fairly effected, although our arrangements were by no means as complete as they might have been; but as it was settled that we should only proceed as far as Ponline village, about twelve miles distant, it was better to start than risk further delay. There was something outrageously wild in the irregular confusion of our exodus from Tsitkaw, which, though perhaps orderly according to Kakhyen ideas, presented no trace of system to our uninformed minds. The three Kakhyen chiefs led the way, followed by the unwieldy cash-chest, borne by eight men, and guarded by four sepoys; then came the long straggling caravan of a hundred and twenty mules, travelling just as it suited the peculiarities of each beast and its driver. Our police escort marched steadily on, headed by the jemadar, at whose side appeared his wife, looking like a true vivandière, her slim figure becomingly attired in a blue silk padded jacket, and trousers tucked up to the knee, with a red silk handkerchief for head-dress; with a Burmese dah and bag slung over her shoulders, and her shoes tied behind her back, she was evidently prepared for all dangers and fatigues.
We mounted our ponies and rode forward over the level plain before us; stretching north-east and south-west, rose the long undulating outline of the Kakhyen mountains, broken here and there by huge domes or pointed peaks, rising to five and six thousand feet. On our right flowed the Tapeng, gradually calming its waters into a placid stream, after having emerged as a foaming torrent from the mountain barrier. At the village of Hentha the route diverged from the river, and half a mile further we passed the long, straggling, but populous village of Old Bhamô, embosomed in a dense grove of bamboos and forest trees. Outside the village stood a solitary and almost ruined pagoda, the advanced outpost, on this side the river, of Burmese Buddhism, for none of these religious edifices are found among the Kakhyen hills.
Four miles’ ride through a succession of level swampy patches of paddy clearings, and grassy fields intersected by deep nullahs, brought us to the village of Tsihet, on slightly undulating ground. At this point the route turned almost at right angles, to ascend the hills, and here the three tsawbwas were seated in deep and excited consultation, apparently waiting for us. We had outstripped most of the convoy, and as Sladen rode up, Sala exclaimed, pointing to the hill-path, “All right, go on, and don’t be afraid.” His words were less intelligible than those of the Talone tsawbwa, who asked in an injured tone, “When are you going to give me that gun?”
We ascended about five hundred feet, over a series of rounded hills, distinct from the main range, but connected with it by spurs, up the slope of one of which we were slowly climbing, when a shot was heard in front. Sladen, the superior powers of whose pony had taken him ahead, waited until the others joined him, and another shot and then four reports together were heard, but no bullet whizzed near. A spear was picked up in the path, which a Burmese syce alleged to have been thrown from the jungle at the passing travellers; but his evidence was doubtful.
We all proceeded as if nothing had happened, but our Kakhyens, some fifty of whom were ahead, gathered round, flourishing their dahs and yelling like fiends, to assure us of their determination to protect us. A little further on we came upon two Kakhyens of our party, standing in an open by the roadside, one armed with a cross-bow and poisoned arrows, and the other with a flint musket. By signs they tried to convey to us that some evil-disposed mountaineers had hidden themselves at this spot, and had fired on them, but that on their returning the fire, the enemy had “bolted” down the hillside. We had our own opinion that the supposed attack was an ingenious ruse to try our mettle, and that most of the shots were fired by our half intoxicated muleteers, who evinced no sort of fear or misgiving. One of them, mounted on a mule, and armed with a long dah and matchlock, proved himself more dangerous as a friend than all the supposed enemies. He kept rushing backwards and forwards on a path scarcely wide enough in some places for a single pony; now he flourished his long sword in a reckless manner, and then fired his matchlock over the head of Sladen, who was in front, reloading and firing over his shoulder with a rapidity wonderful in a man so drunk as to be beyond reason. Judicious praises of his dexterity and a promise to refill his powder-horn at the next village were necessary to prevent him from becoming suddenly quarrelsome and dangerous.
From the summit of the spur fifteen hundred feet high, we descended by a rough, slippery path, the bed of a dried-up watercourse, to a level glen of rich alluvial land, and thence climbed another spur to a height of two thousand feet, whence a slight descent brought us to a long ridge, on which were situated the villages of Talone and Ponline. Approaching the first-named, we were requested to dismount, as Kakhyen etiquette does not admit of riding past a village. We led our ponies through a grassy glade, surrounded by high trees, and sacred to the nats. At one side stood a row of bamboo posts, varying in height from six to twenty feet, split at the top into four pieces, supporting small shelves to serve as altars for the offerings of cooked rice, fowls, and sheroo, wherewith the demons are propitiated. Before each altar were placed large bundles of grass, and a few old men were kneeling, muttering a low chant.
Leaving Talone on an eminence to our left, we remounted and descended a little distance through deep ravines, in secondary spurs, and, after a short ascent, traversed a tolerably level pathway, and another short rise brought us to our halting-place, the village of Ponline, lying two thousand three hundred feet above the sea. The rocks exposed were all metamorphic, consisting chiefly of a grey gneiss or red granite, and a hornblendic mica schist, huge rounded boulders of which latter were strewn on the hillsides. The hills were covered with a dense tree forest, largely intermixed with bamboos. It was already dusk when we arrived, but the moon shone brightly, and a pawmine conducted us to a house, swept and made ready for us. Like all Kakhyen houses, it was an oblong bamboo structure, with closely matted sides, raised on piles three feet from the ground. The roof thatched with grass sloped to within four feet from the ground; the eaves, propped by bamboo posts, formed a portico, used as a stable at night for ponies, pigs, and fowls, and as a general lounge by day. Notched logs served as stairs to ascend to the doorway in the gable end. On one side of the interior was a common hall, running the whole length of the building. On the other was a series of small rooms, divided from each other by bamboo partitions; a second doorway or opening at the further end was, as we afterwards learned, reserved for the use of members of the family, or household, none others being allowed to enter thereby, on pain of offence to the household nats. Chimneys and windows there were none, and the walls and roofs were blackened with smoke. In the common hall and in each room there was an open hearth sunk a little below the flooring, the closely laid bamboo work being covered with a layer of hard-pressed earth.
Only a portion of the baggage mules had arrived, and the bedding of several members of the party was among the missing property. Rumours were also afloat that robbers had succeeded in driving off eight mules, if not more, and altogether the first night in Kakhyen land seemed to some of the party inauspicious; but we made the best of it, and, having taken possession of our strange quarters, were presently joined by Williams, who had been detained taking the altitudes. He contributed the news that after leaving Talone a shot had been fired at Sala, who was in front of him. We strolled out in the pleasant night air, and admired an animated group of fair Kakhyens, busily pounding rice by moonlight. The paddy was placed in a rude mortar, or rather a cavity hollowed out in a log, and two girls stood opposite each other wielding heavy poles, four feet long. These were plied alternately, the heavy dull thud of the pestle forming a bass to the treble of a low musical cry, emitted at each stroke by the fair operators, while their bell girdles tinkled a pleasant accompaniment. These girdles marked their rank, only the daughters of chiefs being allowed to wear these musical ornaments.
An old woman beckoned Sladen to follow her, and conducted him to a house, which proved to be that of Sala, who received him most hospitably, making him share his carpet, while his guide, the tsawbwa’s wife, and her family brought successive relays of bamboo buckets, filled with sheroo, or Kakhyen beer.
At last, having divided what bedding there was, we settled ourselves to sleep, leaving it for the morrow to confirm or dissipate the fears excited by the non-arrival of guard, cash-chest, and baggage.