Suen was my hairdresser, and he had just completed his business when Abdul Kerim looked in at the tent opening and whispered that four men with yaks were coming up the valley on the road we had to go down from the Kinchen-la. I hurriedly set my disguise in order and wound the turban round my head, while the flap was fastened, and Takkar was tied up before my tent. Then I looked through the peephole in the tent canvas on the side towards the upper end of the valley, and saw eight men on foot in dark-blue and red dresses, with red scarves round their heads, all armed with guns and swords, and leading nine horses; one man led two laden horses. What in the world did this mean? They were not robbers, for they came suddenly and at night. They seemed rather men in Government service; the two in front were certainly officials. My men occupied themselves at their fire; I could see that they were a prey to the greatest uneasiness.
The strangers came straight to our camp-fire as if it were the end of their journey. They formed a circle round Abdul Kerim, Lobsang, Kutus, and Gulam, and began an animated but subdued conversation. Three of them, evidently servants, led the horses to a spot barely thirty paces from my tent and right in front of it. There they took off all the saddles and loads, sent off the horses to graze, brought out pots and cans, arranged three stones in order, collected fuel, made a fire, fetched water in a large pot and cooked tea. It was plain that they intended to camp here for the night, and that they had intruded on us for the purpose of watching us.
The other five entered Abdul Kerim’s tent, threw themselves down, and continued the conversation in the same low quiet voice and in thoroughly polite and measured tones. I could not catch what they said, but that the affair was serious I could only too plainly perceive, for I heard my name mentioned—Hedin Sahib. After a good hour’s conversation they went out again and made a tour round my tent, but the furious Takkar would not let them approach the door. But they discovered the peephole in the side of the tent, and a man put his finger in and looked through the hole, but I was lying against the folds of the tent on the same side, so he could not see me. Then they went and threw themselves down in a circle round the fire, brought out their wooden cups and drank tea. They sat right in front of the entrance to my tent, and I could not get out without being seen.
Then Abdul Kerim whispered from the back of my tent and inside his own, and told me what the men had said. The leader, a stoutish young man of good appearance, had put the usual questions and received the usual answers. Then he had uttered the following words in a serious and decided tone:
“News of your arrival has come to the Governor of Saka-dzong through two salt caravans which passed your party above Pasa-guk. As it has never occurred that a merchant from Ladak has come from the north and has travelled on the byway through Gebuk, the Governor and the other authorities in Saka suspected that Hedin Sahib might be concealed among you, and the more so because he himself expressed his wish last year to come back again and travel through the mountainous regions in the north. Therefore my comrades and I received orders to follow your trail, overtake you, and subject you to the most searching examination. We are in no hurry, and in the morning we shall get several yak-loads of provisions. You protest that Hedin Sahib is not among you disguised as a Ladaki. Well, it may be that you are telling the truth. But remember, tsongpun, that we shall carry out our orders to the letter. You are thirteen men from Ladak, you say, and I can see only ten. Where are the others?”
“They are out collecting fuel.”
“Good. When you are all assembled here we intend to search you down to the skin. Then we shall turn out all your baggage and empty every sack we find in your tents. And if in this examination we find nothing belonging to a European, it will remain for you to give a written declaration that no European is among your party concealed or disguised, and under this declaration you must set your name-stamp. Then you can travel early in the morning where you like, and we shall return to Saka.”
When I heard this report the situation became quite clear to me, and I at once decided what I would do. But first I crept by the secret way into the caravan leader’s tent, where I found myself surrounded by my retainers, except three, who were to warn us if the Tibetans came back again.
“What is to be done?” I asked Abdul Kerim.
“The Sahib knows best himself. As far as I can see, our condition is hopeless,” answered the honest man, who had got us out of many a scrape before.