“Very well, I shall stay here till you have found the grey horse.”
During the minute this conversation lasted Tsongpun Tashi had walked towards the opening of my tent, when Kutus came running up from the other side, seized me by the collar, and whispered “Come.” We hurried off to a crag on the north-east, and so just escaped the clutches of Tsongpun.
“What man is that?” the old man asked, pointing at me, as I was making off with clumsy waddling steps.
“Hajji Baba, one of my servants,” answered Abdul Kerim, without moving a muscle.
We did not look round as we went off to the point, and were glad when at length we were hidden by a projecting rock. Then we scrambled up a fissure whence we could see all around. Here we lay a weary time with our hearts in our mouths, while Tsongpun Tashi waited for the runaway horse, which had not run away at all, for all our animals stood ready laden before our tents. But he must have lost patience. After Gaffar had gone to the tent to try and get back the black horse, but met with a refusal, for the horse had been fed with barley and was getting on splendidly, Tsongpun Tashi seemed to make in that direction himself, accompanied by Gaffar. But he changed his mind, for he turned back half-way, and soon we saw him going to the fine tent of the soul-doctor, which stood about 300 yards farther down the valley. He was attended by one of our men, who helped him to carry the sacks in which the goods acquired the previous day were packed.
We remained quiet in our hiding-place of much-weathered green schist, full of quartz veins, from which we could peep out without being seen. We were supposed to be looking for the lost horse. But now the caravan was ready, and began to move down the valley past the abbot’s tent. Tsongpun Tashi’s errand had been to take farewell of the prelate, who was setting out this day for Mendong-gompa, absolutely unknown in all the maps in the world, and his yaks stood tethered and surrounded by a troop of servants. Abdul Kerim was shrewd enough to send no messenger after us, but leave us to take care of ourselves. And so we did when we had had enough of the green schist—we could not lie still till doomsday. But we had to pass the abbot’s tent, and there sat Tsongpun Tashi, unless he were among the men outside. We sneaked on. Kutus walked next the tent to screen me. My disguise was perfect, and I had a black face. We passed with some trepidation quite close to the tent; two savage dogs rushed at us and we threw stones at them, thereby deranging our order of march and making a change of front. Confounded dogs! We had passed the tent, and, so far, had done well. But if Tsongpun Tashi noticed us—and he could scarcely fail to do so, for the dogs barked so furiously—he would certainly wonder in which direction the grey horse had made off. If he had no suspicion of us he must be, beyond comparison, the greatest ass that I had ever fallen in with.
We made haste and soon overtook the others, and were lost among them. The valley sloped down—a fortunate thing for me, as I had to travel on foot where so many pitfalls surrounded me on all sides. Abdul Kerim rode grandly on my horse at the head of the party. On the left were a white-and-blue and a black tent with twenty yaks. Two men hurried up to us, and Abdul Kerim met and spoke to them. We marched along the ice belt of the brook, and passed five more tents, and, at all, the men came out to look at us. I walked with the sheep farther from the tents than the caravan. We passed twenty tents that day; it was a dangerous stretch of country, and it was strange that we came through safely.
A woman, carrying a load of wool on her back, overtook us. She was so bold as to join herself to the caravan and ask to be allowed to put her wool on one of the yaks. Never have I so heartily wished a woman at the devil. Abdul Rasak took the woman in hand and offered to carry half her load to her tent, and so they jogged along the road far ahead, and freed us from her suspicious company.
We took it for granted that she was a spy. When we encamped below a sheepfold, there she was again, established herself inside the fold, lighted a fire and fetched water. She must drink tea before she went on homewards, she said; but fortunately she toddled off before dusk.
I sat in the setting sun and noted down the varied incidents of the day. I sat in the opening of my tent enjoying the soothing rustle of the spring, when what should I see but Takkar himself, who came up to me anxiously and humbly, made the most expressive gestures, put his head on one side and began to paw my arm. I looked at him and he looked at me, and at last we understood each other.