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Chanden Sing, who was well versed in religious matters, explained that only Hindoo pilgrims who had lost both parents shaved their heads on visiting Mansarowar, as a sacrifice to Siva. If they were of a high caste, on their return to their native land after the pilgrimage it was customary to entertain all the Brahmins of the town to a banquet.
Then came a lot of undeveloped photographic plates, box after box of which they opened in broad daylight, destroying in a few moments all the valuable negatives that I had taken since leaving Mansarowar. The Pombo, more observant than the others, noticed that the plates turned into a yellowish color on being exposed to the light. "Why is that?" he asked.
As we were so anxious to visit the Mansarowar Lake and the great Kelas Mount, and had already experienced many difficulties and great expense in coming so far, he agreed that eight of our party should proceed to these sacred places. It was impossible for him to give an official consent, but he repeated again that we could go if we wished." This news naturally delighted me.
During all this time the prisoners were firmly bound and carefully guarded. Next day, Mr. Landor and Chanden Sing were placed on yaks. Mansing had to walk. Thus they were taken in the direction of Mansarowar Lake. It was only on arrival at Mansarowar that his guards unbound Mr. Landor.
I was amused at the casual way in which the Jong Pen of Taklakot had disposed of the bear-skin before he had even caught the bear. The Lamas mistook me for a Hindoo doctor, owing to the color of my face, which was sunburnt, and had long remained unwashed. I wore no disguise. They thought that I was on a pilgrimage round the Mansarowar Lake.
Naturally we were not allowed to go far from the serai, but we could stroll about in the village. I took this opportunity to have a swim in the Mansarowar Lake. Chanden Sing and Mansing again paid fresh salaams to the gods, and also plunged into the sacred waters. The local Lamas, who had been friendly during my former visit, were now extremely sulky and rude.
They heard only on arrival at Taklakot from the man Suna, whom I had sent from Mansarowar with my message, that I was still alive and a prisoner, covered with wounds, in rags, and starving. They had not enough men to force their way farther into the country to come and meet me. Besides, the Tibetans watched them carefully.
It was much warmer on the Mansarowar side of the ridge than on the Rakastal side. Probably owing to the dampness, the air seemed quite thick to breathe, instead of being crisp and light, as it was along the shores of the Devil's Lake. Indeed, when I recall the Mansarowar, I cannot help thinking that it was the home, not only of the gods, but also of storms.
It was my good-fortune to make quite sure, from many points, that the ridge between the Rakas and Mansarowar lakes was continuous, and no visible communication between the two lakes existed.
It was of the utmost importance for me to find out which would be the easiest way to get through the intricate succession of hills and mountains, and I also wished to ascertain the exact direction of a large river to the north of us, which discharged its waters into the Mansarowar. I started alone.
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