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The Lamas near me shook their fists under my nose, and explained that my turn would come next. The Pombo and his officers were puzzled. I could see it plainly by their faces. The Pombo, an effeminate, juvenile, handsome person, almost hysterical in manner, seemed a splendid subject for hypnotic experiments. I had a good reason to think this.
They collected round him and seemed very angry. They shouted and yelled and gesticulated in the wildest fashion, and still the Pombo kept his eyes fixed upon me in a half-respectful, half-frightened manner, and refused to move. An excited consultation followed, during which, in the midst of this scene of barbarity, my coolie Mansing arrived.
Pombo prayed frantically to all the gods of idolatry, for though it was a simple matter, yet it was very necessary to a man. And gods that were older than Ammuz rejected the prayers of Pombo, and even gods that were younger and therefore of greater repute.
"We have ponies here," he said, "and we are going to take you back to the frontier, but the Pombo wishes to see you first to-day. Do not make a resistance. Let us exchange the ropes round your wrists for these iron handcuffs." Here he produced a heavy pair of manacles which he had kept concealed under his coat.
When they led me before the Pombo to show him how covered with blood I was, I expressed satisfaction at riding such an excellent pony. This seemed to puzzle him. A cord of yak-hair, about forty or fifty yards long, was now produced. The swivel attached to one end was fastened to my handcuffs, and the other end was held by a horseman.
Whether Pombo knew about this etiquette and considered it frivolous in the face of his need, or whether his need, now grown desperate, unhinged his mind, I know not, but Pombo the idolater took a stick and suddenly turned iconoclast.
They might kill me, true enough, they might hack me to pieces if they chose, but never until I had lost my last atom of strength would these ruffians make me stoop before them. I might perish, but it would be looking down upon the Pombo and his countrymen. The executioner, now close to me, held the sword with his nervous hands, lifting it high above his shoulder.
And Pombo walked downstairs. There, sure enough, was the gloaming in which the world spins, and the stars shone far off in it faintly; there was nothing before him as he went downstairs but that strange blue waste of gloaming, with its multitude of stars, and comets plunging through it on outward journeys and comets returning home.
The cords were bound so tightly that they cut into the flesh. Then a person named Nerba, the secretary of the Tokchim Tarjum, seized Mr. Landor by the hair of his head, and the chief official, termed the Pombo, came up with a red-hot iron, which he placed in very close proximity to Mr. Landor's eyes. The heat was so intense that for some moments Mr.
The Pombo, whether to amuse me or to show off his riches, ordered to be displayed before me about one hundred ponies, some with magnificent harness. Mounting the finest pony and holding in his hand the dreadful taram, he rode round the hill on which the monastery and fort stood. On returning he harangued his men.
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