“I sent a messenger to the Devashung as soon as I received the letter from Rindor. They will know in Lhasa in a few days that you are come here again.”
I had never induced any Tibetan magistrate to forward my letters. That Dorche Tsuen refused to do me such a trifling service had the deplorable consequence that my family did not receive any reliable report of me till September, and therefore supposed that some misfortune had befallen me. Instead of reaching the frontier in a couple of weeks, I was sent back again into the silence of Tibet, and the waves washed again over our track. But I took it for granted that news of our arrival on the tasam would penetrate to Gyangtse both officially and through reports, and would then be made known everywhere. Such, however, was not the case, and after we left the tasam our fate was buried in the same complete silence as before.
“No, Hedin Sahib,” Dorche Tsuen cried out, “the only way open to you is the one by which you came from the north.”
“I will never travel by that road. It is no use talking about it.”
“You must.”
“You cannot force me to do so. To begin with, I will not let you know which way I came, and I travelled in disguise.”
“It does not matter. It is very well known that you came from the Samye-la and the Kinchen-la. Beyond that the escort I shall send with you will ask the way from tent to tent.”
“The nomads will answer that they have seen no Ladakis, for fear of being punished.”
“I shall find means of making them confess more than you think.”
“You can kill me if you like, but you shall never force me to travel over the Samye-la. Remember that I am a European and a friend of the Tashi Lama. You may lose your button.”