On August 4 we met a caravan of about a hundred yaks, accompanied by armed men in tall yellow hats; but they took us for ordinary pilgrims and did not trouble themselves about us. Then we rode past several tents, and when we reached the top of the next pass we saw that tents lay scattered about on the plain like black spots, fourteen together in one place. We were now on the great highway to Lhasa.
The next day we came to a flat open valley, where there were twelve tents. Three Tibetans came to our tent there at dusk, and had a long conversation with the Lama, who was the only one of us who understood Tibetan. When he came back to us he was quite overcome with fright. One of the three men, who was a chief, had told him that information had come from yak-hunters in the north that a large European caravan was on the way. He had a suspicion that one of us might be a white man, and he ordered us on no account to move from where we were. In fact, we were prisoners, and with great anxiety we awaited the morning, when our fate would be decided. All night a watch was kept round our tent, as we knew by the fires, and next day we were visited by several parties, both influential chiefs and ordinary nomads, who warned us, if we valued our lives, to wait there till the Governor of the Province arrived.
In the meantime they did all they could to frighten us. Troops of horsemen in close order dashed straight towards our tent, as if they meant to stamp us into the earth, and so finish us off at once. On they rushed, the horses' hoofs ringing on the bare ground and the riders brandishing their swords and lances above their heads and uttering the wildest shrieks. When they were so near that the mud was splashed on to the tent, they suddenly opened out to right and left, and returned in the same wild career to the starting-point. This martial manoeuvre was repeated several times.
During the following days, however, they behaved in a more peaceful fashion, and eventually we came to be on quite a friendly footing with most of our neighbours. They visited us constantly, gave us butter, milk, and fat, and when it rained crept coolly into our tent, which became so crowded that we could hardly find room for ourselves. They informed us that the Dalai Lama had given orders that no harm should be done to us, and we saw that messengers on horseback rode off daily along the roads leading to Lhasa and the Governor's village. We did not know where our seven baggage and riding animals were, but we made it clear to the Tibetans that, as they had stopped us against our will, they must be answerable for the safety of our animals and possessions.
On August 9 things at last began to look lively. A whole village of tents sprang up at some distance from us, and round the new tents swarmed Tibetans on foot and horseback. A Mongolian interpreter escorted by some horsemen came to our tent.
"The Governor, Kamba Bombo, is here, and invites you to-day to a feast in his tent."
"Greet Kamba Bombo," I answered, "but tell him that it is usual first to pay a visit to the guests one invites."
"You must come," went on the interpreter; "a sheep roasted whole is placed in the middle of the tent, surrounded by bowls of roasted meal and tea. He awaits you."
"We do not leave our camp. If Kamba Bombo wishes to see us he can come here."
"If you will not come with me I cannot be responsible for you to the Governor. He has ridden day and night to talk with you. I beg you to come with me."