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Pombo the iconoclast immediately left his house, leaving his idols to be swept away with the dust and so to mingle with Man, and went to an arch-idolater of repute who carved idols out of rare stones, and put his case before him.
When Pombo discovered this he resented his birth bitterly, and made lamentation and alleged that he was lost. He might have been seen then in any part of London haunting curiosity-shops and places where they sold idols of ivory or of stone, for he dwelt in London with others of his race though he was born in Burmah among those who hold Ganges holy.
"Ngala mangbo shidak majidan!" A huge two-handed sword was now handed to the Pombo, who drew it out of its sheath. "Kill him, kill him!" shouted the mob once more, urging on the executioner, who seemed quite reluctant to come forward.
I assured them that this was not the case, and told them that if they would untie me I would, on recovering the use of my arms, paint a picture before them. They prudently preferred to leave me tied up. Their whole attention was now drawn to a considerable sum in silver and gold which they found in the pack-cases. The Pombo warned the people that not one coin must be stolen.
A matchlock was now being loaded by a soldier, and such was the quantity of gunpowder they placed in the barrel that it made sure whoever fired it would have his head blown off. It was with a certain amount of satisfaction that I saw it handed over to the Pombo. That official placed the side of the weapon against my forehead with the muzzle pointing skyward.
A soldier did this with a blunt knife, and the Pombo rode up with it in his hands to the Lamasery to consult the oracle. The lock was handed in for examination. After certain incantations, the oracle answered that I must be beheaded or the country would be in great danger. The Pombo rode back disappointed, and now ordered that one of my toe-nails should be cut.
The Pombo drew out with much suspicion a curious flattened article. "What is that?" inquired he, lifting the thing up in the air.
The Lama who performed this last operation examined my hands and spread my fingers apart, expressing intense astonishment. In a moment all the Lamas and soldiers came round and examined my hands a repetition of my experience at the Tucker monastery. The Pombo, too, on being informed, immediately came and inspected my fingers. Matters from that moment took a different turn.
Landor felt as if his eyes had been scorched out. It had been placed so close that it burned his nose. The Pombo next took a matchlock, which he rested on his victim's forehead and then discharged upward. The shock was consequently very much felt. Handing the empty gun to an attendant soldier, the Pombo took a two-handed sword.
The Pombo thoughtfully ordered the best of them to be brought closer to me, and had me lifted into a sitting posture, so that I could see them better. This was a great relief. I was suffering more from my humiliating position, being unable to stand, than from the tortures themselves, bad as they were. The Pombo told me that I must now look toward the tent. He then got up and walked toward it.
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