“Even if you did betray us, Bombo Chimbo, we should not be easily caught. There are many pilgrims on the way to the holy mountain Kang-rinpoche (Kailas).”
“You may be quite at ease. Come with your animals, and you shall be well paid.”
“Good. But tell me, are you not the Peling who came five years ago with two companions to Nakchu, and was compelled by the Governor to turn back?”
“Yes, that was I.”
“We did not see you ourselves, but all the province was talking about you, and you had Shereb Lama as a guide. You had also a large caravan with camels and several Russians in your service.”
“How can you remember all that?”
“Oh, it was repeatedly said that it would be a marvel if you escaped the robbers.”
I clearly perceived from this not very flattering popularity that, if the common people were so well informed of my doings, the authorities would find it easy to follow my track. Now the Tibetans knew that it was I, and no one else, who was penetrating to the heart of the forbidden land. How speedily this fact would be transmitted to the south! How quickly would the Devashung bring us to a halt! Where would our grand progress come to a standstill, checked by a peremptory “Thus far and no farther,” backed up by muzzle-loaders and sabres? Ah, where would my dreams again be shattered and my aspirations cease to pulsate?
In the morning, when the pilgrims had returned, I was waked early and went out to view the market that had been created in the wilderness as by an enchanter’s wand. The sun had not yet risen above the mountains, the camp lay in icy-cold shadow, and the air was dull and raw. The smoke circled round the fires in suffocating density, and through it I saw six splendid yaks with wooden saddles. The Tibetans in their picturesque costume, with sabres jingling at their sides, knives and amulets, gesticulated vehemently, and in a torrent of well-chosen words extolled the exceptional qualities of the grunting oxen. The result of the affair was that all six yaks passed into our possession, and we also bought two packets of brick-tea, a bag of Bhotan tobacco, and a couple of bladders of butter. Robert piled up the shining silver coins in rows at the door of my tent, and the eyes of the Tibetans shone with delight at the sight of so much money, and at hearing the ring of the silver. An empty tin and a tin cigarette box found their way, as usual, into the front of their fur coats.