monasteries that we soon got tired of prying into its
hidden mysteries or dark and dusty recesses. Figures
of gods and devils sat in rows wherever room permitted,
clothed in faded silks and embroideries—and much they
must have needed their coverings, for the interiors of
the buildings were bitterly cold. One large cup of
gold, of beautiful design, similar to others seen at
Shigatse and Gyantse, stood before the largest Buddha,
and burning in it was the everlasting light, insufficient
to show in any but the faintest way the outlines of the
peaceful face. A small douceur to the guardians was
not only received with evident surprise, but persuaded
them to rise to the occasion and escort us back to the
stage-house.
Below the monastery were two other stone buildings,
used as rest-houses by travellers. The larger of the two,
but the more dilapidated, was for the accommodation of
yak-drivers and the servants of officials; the smaller
building was quite a nice house, with a courtyard surrounded
by a high wall, and having two rooms and a
passage. The wall was of great advantage, as we were
not worried by Tibetans continually passing, staring in
at the doors and windows, when they think you are not
looking, or searching amongst the baggage for some
imaginary article. The manners of the people are
preferable, however, to those of the Chinese, for they
never venture so far as to pull aside the flaps of the
tents or to lift up the flies in order to watch every
movement of the occupant.
Whilst on the subject of the Chinese, I may mention
that this race is practically non-existent in that part
of Tibet which lies west of Lhasa. There are a few
merchants in Shigatse; six more between that place
and To, a Chinese post-office, one march beyond Lhatse,
after which no more are to be seen.
Numberless fresh-water pools lie scattered about the
plain, but were now frozen solid, and around these
roamed immense herds of yaks, sheep, and goats,
nibbling at the roots of the withered grass. During
the winter the sheep exist on the great store of fat
they lay on during the fruitful season, whilst the
inhabitants live on the sheep, and probably get
thinner in the same proportion as the sheep become
emaciated.
At this place we set to work to doctor the
ponies and mules. One of the latter was a beautiful
cream-coloured beast from Kham, which had been
ridden at the Karo La fight by a Tibetan officer, and
had been wounded in the fetlock and captured by the
Mounted Infantry. A nasty-looking growth of flesh
had sprung from the wound, which irritated the animal
at night and which he used to bite, though at no time
was he actually lame. The wound was so ugly that
I determined to try and cure it i we had a great
struggle with our patient before we could apply the
caustic and bind him up. The next day it was
necessary to remove the bandages and put on some
fresh solution. The dear creature was as quiet as a
baby and the operation was practically completed,
when, seeing that a little further manipulation of the
bandage was required, I bent down to take it off
gently. The next thing I remember was turning a
somersault in the air with stars shooting all around,
and blood pouring down my face and from my nose.
The mule’s bandage was off, and he had a smile upon
his face. I blessed him and left him in peace; in fact,
I continued to bless him for several days afterwards,
for I could hardly breathe, and could eat but little.
That mule still has an ugly lump of flesh growing from
his leg.