“When?”
“A few days ago.”
“Then we may thank our stars that we did not fall into their hands, for we passed along the middle course of the Bogtsang-tsangpo for five days, and we have a large quantity of silver money in our boxes.”
“The Bombo Chimbo is a friend of the gods. No harm can befall you.”
“In which direction have the robbers retired with their booty?”
“They are still in the territory of Naktsang. We shall pursue them, catch them, and cut off their heads.”
Then I visited Hlaje Tsering with the corner pillars of my caravan. He sat at his lacquered table drinking tea, and had his long Chinese pipe in his mouth.
“Why is it that it has just been so dark?” I asked him. “The gods of the Dangra-yum-tso are angry because you will not allow me to visit their lake.”
“No, certainly not. A big dog roams about the sky and often conceals the sun. But I and the lama Lobsang have prayed all the time before the altar, and have burned joss-sticks before the images of the gods. You have nothing to fear; the dog has passed on.”