A Tibetan guard's encampment—Nattoo volunteers to be a guide—Treachery and punishment of the Shokas—All ways forward barred to me—Evading the soldiers by another perilous march at night—Mansing again lost—A marvellous phenomenon—Sufferings of my men—Severe cold.
ON my last scouting journey up the hill above the camp, I had espied, by
the aid of my telescope, the encampment of a guard of Tibetans, about
three miles north of us, and I informed my followers of this fact.
In the morning, when we again dug up the main part of our baggage and
made ready to start, one of the men, the Kutial Nattoo, came forward and
professed to be able to guide us directly to the Mansarowar Lake. He
seemed very anxious to undertake this task, saying that there would be no
chance of detection by the route he knew, and consequently we might march
during the daytime.
We started up the creek, led by this man, and I was astonished at the
willingness with which the Shokas agreed to proceed. In a little time I
felt convinced that he was deliberately taking us to the spot I most
wished to avoid. On my remonstrating and stopping further progress in
that direction, the Shokas mutinied and, depositing their loads, tried to
escape, but my bearer quickly barred their way ahead in the narrow creek
and I prevented their escape from the opposite side, so they had to
surrender. Painful as it was to me, I had to severely punish them all, and while I took care that no one should bolt, Chanden Sing took special pleasure in knocking them about until they were brought back to their senses. On being closely cross-examined, they openly confessed that they had made a plot to hand me over to the Tibetan guard, in order to escape the horrors of torture by the Tibetans. This last act of treachery, coming after what had happened during the night, and from the very men whom I had just been more than lenient towards, was too much for me, and I used a stick, which Chanden Sing handed me, very freely on their backs and legs, Nattoo the Kutial receiving the largest share of blows, because he was undoubtedly the head of the conspiracy.
On climbing to a point of vantage, I now further discovered that, besides
the guard we had to the north of us, both east and west our way was
barred by Tibetan soldiers, and although it was not possible to get on
during the day without being seen, I absolutely refused to go back south. I held a palaver with my men, who were apparently resigned, and they agreed to accompany me as far as the Maium Pass (on the road to Lhassa), which we reckoned to be some fifteen or eighteen marches. They further agreed to endeavour to obtain yaks and food for me, and I was then to dismiss them. From the summit of the hill I had climbed, I had taken careful bearings, and when night came, aided by my luminous compass, I led my men high up along the mountain range at an average elevation of 1500 feet above the Gyanema-Taklakot track.
The night was dark and stormy, and we encountered much difficulty in our
journey forward owing to the slippery ground, alternated with the ever
troublesome loose débris and shifting rocks. We could not see far
ahead, and though we well knew from the angle of the slope that we were
travelling along a precipice, we could not distinguish anything under us
except a peculiarly luminous streak far, far down below—undoubtedly the
river.