The morning was devoted by myself to an attempt under the guidance of a Kakhyen to explore the valley, which was rendered difficult by the dense jungle, and the unwillingness of the native to proceed more than two or three miles from the camp.
The reports of threatened opposition were as rife as ever; but some Chinese who arrived during the day professed ignorance of any uneasiness among the hill tribes. A Kakhyen was brought in by the Burmese to the guard-house, who had come from Manwyne on the previous day on purpose to tell us, at some risk to himself, that a body of men had been collected to attack us, by one Yang-ta-jen, in league with the Seray tsawbwa. The messenger seemed half-witted, but was clear in his story, which certainly agreed with the previous reports. News arrived that all the hostages detained at Tsitkaw had escaped with the exception of Sala. One of them was the son of the Ponsee pawmine, and his father, who had been detailed to accompany Margary, was kept back to be sent to Tsitkaw in place of his son. The tsawbwa-gadaw of Woonkah duly arrived with her gift of fowls, eggs, and sheroo, and received broadcloth and other presents, with which she speedily disappeared, not without grumbling that she had not been paid in money for her fowls!
Nothing further occurred till next morning, when messengers brought a letter from Margary, dated from Seray, announcing that so far the road was unmolested, and all the people met with were civil, and that he should proceed to Manwyne. He noted that when in the Seray chief’s house, the Seray pawmine evinced his contempt for the Burmese by spitting on the ground.
On the strength of this communication, although the tsare-daw-gyee urged that no movement should be made until the news of Margary’s reception at Manwyne reached us, Colonel Browne resolved to proceed at once, and, if possible, reach that town in one march. The camp was accordingly struck, and, crossing the Nampoung, we entered China.
The road we were to pursue led straight up a steep spur of the main range dividing the Tapeng from the Nampoung, the highest point of which, Shitee Meru, rises immediately to the north of Ponsee, the position of the long detention of the first expedition of 1868. I set out in advance of the rest, accompanied by my men and the Kakhyen scout who had brought the information from Manwyne. The ascent commenced directly from the Nampoung valley, and three hours’ climb of the hill-path brought us to the first Shitee village at noon. The tsawbwaship has been divided among three brothers, each having a village of his own, but the youngest, according to Kakhyen rules, being the chief of Shitee Meru. At the first village we were hospitably received and refreshed with sheroo, and the children were delighted with beads and small coins. Here we found a native of India, a slave, who had come from beyond Assam, and had forgotten most of his language, but made himself known by calling out pani. On the hillside I met the Shitee Meru tsawbwa coming down with two men, one of whom escorted me some way; and next appeared the Wacheoon tsawbwa with a party of forty armed followers, some of them mounted on ponies. He was very friendly, and sent an escort back with us, one of whom had brought a lizard for the Englishman. The road wound up and over the spurs running down from the backbone of the Shitee-doung to the Nampoung, which flows from the north-east along a valley lying below the north-western slope of the main range that defines the right bank of the Tapeng. The greatest height reached on Shitee Meru Doung was about five thousand seven hundred feet above the sea, from which we descended slightly to the site chosen for our encampment, the altitude of which was found to be five thousand five hundred feet, where we halted at 3.30, after a march of about eight miles.
Between two rounded ridges running down to the Nampoung, one in our rear covered with forest, and the other with grass, about five hundred yards distant to the north-east, extended two flat clearings, where the caravans were accustomed to bivouack, the first and smaller clearing being close to the western spur. On the second and larger space, divided from the first by a mountain stream, and lying at a somewhat higher elevation, immediately along the grassy spur, the camp was pitched. Around and above the encampments the forest had been cleared, and the open space was covered with high grass interspersed with boulders. Just below the encampments the ground sloped abruptly into a grassy hollow between the ridges, which served as a grazing ground for the mules. The main mountain ridge, which rose to a height of six hundred feet above us, was clothed to its summit with dense forest, which formed a continuous covert, extending along the projecting ridge in the rear, and thus enclosing and commanding our position on the south and east. Below the hollow, the hillside, clothed with impenetrable jungle, sank abruptly to the Nampoung. The country over which the road wound along the slope, in the direction of Seray, consisted of old clearings covered with jungle grass and patches of uncut forest. The immediate exit of the road led through a depression in the ridge, and descended the intervening hollow, and, thence reascending, crossed the next spur.
We bivouacked in the open among the mules and baggage, and surrounded by the fires, the smoke from which was at first most intolerable, but no other annoyance or disturbance was experienced, and our Kakhyens enjoyed themselves listening to the melodies of a musical-box, which had become an especial favourite with them. The Burmese were as vigilant as ever, and their sentinels seemed to be on the alert all night. The tsawbwas of Wacheoon and Ponwah visited the camp, and they had heard nothing of any suspicious movements of troops, and the other Shans who brought fowls for sale confirmed this. Our interpreter, Moung Yoh, returned to the camp in company with the Seray men, the latter being remarkably well dressed and equipped, and evidently old acquaintances of the Burmese. He reported that the Seray chief was dissatisfied on account of the payment of the mule tax or dues to Sala, which, however, had been done with the knowledge and approval of the son of Seray. Moung Yoh then suggested that presents should be sent to Seray, whom he had discovered to be a great friend of his uncle, Li-sieh-tai, and to whose house he returned the same evening to await our arrival.
We were in readiness to start by seven o’clock in the morning of the 21st, but the tsare-daw-gyee intimated that he did not think it prudent to move until the tsawbwas of Shitee Meru, Woonkah, and others arrived. His real intention, however, was to remain in this camp until definite news came from Mr. Margary; but as the arrangement had been made with the latter that we were to advance if we did not hear from him warning us to the contrary, Colonel Browne resolved to push forward to Seray with the Sikhs, leaving the Burmese guard and caravan to follow. I started with my men in advance, but in a short time was overtaken by Browne, Allan, and Fforde, followed by the Sikhs and their servants, with the two led horses, the camp having thus been left to the Kakhyens, under the charge of the Burmese. Their cavalcade soon outstripped my party, as we were shooting, and collecting plants. The road lies over numerous spurs and through deep wooded hollows, and then crosses the watershed dividing the Nampoung valley from the gorge of the Tapeng; on the southern or Manwyne side of the ridge lies the district of Seray. Here a Shan Burman, wearing the red turban of our escort, accompanied by a Kakhyen, overtook us, and by signs gave me to understand that the tsare-daw-gyee wished us to return. As none of us could speak Burmese, I signed to him to proceed quickly and communicate his news to Colonel Browne, which he did, and I ordered my men to press forward to overtake the rest of the party, while I waited behind for my groom and pony. The messenger on his return signified that Colonel Browne was continuing his progress to Seray. The road descended into a hollow, from which a steep ascent leads to Seray. Here a difficulty arose about the road, as several paths diverged, and there was nothing to indicate which had been taken by Colonel Browne’s party. Unfortunately, I took a wrong one, and soon arrived at a strange village, the inhabitants of which had, doubtless, never before seen an European. According to Kakhyen custom, I dismounted before entering, and, seeing some women standing at the door of the first house, indicated by signs that I desired to know the road. They sulkily waved to me to go on upwards. Imagining that the end of the village was reached, I prepared to remount, but this was resented by a number of men who rushed out of a house, and, shouting, drew their dahs in a threatening manner. I tried to induce some of them, by the offer of compraw, to show me the way, but none would do so. Proceeding onwards, followed by the hillmen, I suddenly found my big dog by my side. As his presence was evidence that some of my men were behind, I turned my pony’s head, and all the Kakhyens bolted. After retracing my steps for some distance, I discovered my collectors and servants hiding for fear in a deep hollow. Presently I met a Kakhyen boy, who conducted us to the village of Seray.
Seray, like the majority of Kakhyen villages, is finely situated on the summit of a ridge, among lofty trees, enclosing a grassy glade in its centre. The paths approaching the village are broad, and its vicinity is indicated by groups of high massive wooden posts, with simple devices in black, and by groves to the nats, and by small circular walled enclosures devoted to the worship of the sky spirit. On arriving, I found all the Sikhs ranged in front of the tsawbwa’s house, also the chiefs of Woonkah and Wacheoon, and Allan’s Chinese clerk. It was so dark on entering that at first I could not recognise Colonel Browne, Allan, and Fforde, save by their voices. The chief, who knew me again, was seated on the ground, and it was observable that he and all his men were armed. The restlessness which he exhibited, his withdrawing outside for private conferences with his pawmine, and the fact that all the women had left the house, excited suspicion; but when the latter returned, and the chief and his pawmine divested themselves of their dahs, I concluded that any hostile intention that might have been originally entertained against us had for the present been abandoned. Then sheroo and hard boiled eggs were brought in and set before us; but further parley with the chief produced no results, and we adjourned to a grove of oak and hazel trees on the outskirts of the village. Moung Yoh, or Li-kan-shin, the professed nephew of Li-sieh-tai, who had been acting as our interpreter, and addressing Seray as uncle as a mark of friendship, presently came to request Colonel Browne to return to the chief’s house. There it was decided that the Seray and Woonkah tsawbwas should proceed to Manwyne at once, and ascertain the actual state of things, and take a letter to Margary. Another Burman had arrived from the camp to request us to return, and we mounted our ponies, and retraced our steps. On the road we met some Kakhyens, one of whom seized the bridle of Browne’s horse, and signed him to go back, as the road was beset, but as our friend was under the influence of sheroo, we spoke to him pleasantly and proceeded. This man was a pawmine of Shitee, who returned to the camp in the evening, and, when taxed with having been intoxicated, admitted that he had started with a bamboo flask full of sheroo, which he had finished. These incidents showed that there was an uneasy apprehension of danger, but that in the immediate vicinity the Kakhyens were friendly.
During our absence, the Burmese had thrown up barricades or breastworks of stones and earth, at points above the camp, and commanding the road to Seray. The tsare-daw-gyee announced to Browne that we should certainly be attacked by the Chinese either that evening or on the march the next day. Some men were observed peering down from among the trees on the hill-brow, as if reconnoitring our position. The Burmese, who were collecting firewood, came running down as fast as they could, and the whole camp set up a fearful shout to scare the supposed enemies, who disappeared, and the excitement gradually subsided.