It was hard work indeed, but we
struggled until we succeeded.

When we parted, the brigands and I were good friends. The bandits
behaved admirably. I came to the conclusion that, in Tibet, I would at
any time rather deal with a bandit than with an official.

In a way I was sorry when my interview with the Jogpas came to an end,
for, although they were undoubtedly brigands, they were certainly
interesting. Their original and curious dress, their manner, their
conversation, their unusual but eminently sensible mode of eating, and
their jovial freedom of demeanor were really quite refreshing. Their
dress was quite representative of Tibet. The men wore a great variety of
coats and hats, probably due to the facility with which they obtained
them. No two individuals were dressed alike, though certain leading
features of dress were to be observed in each case. One man wore a gaudy
coat trimmed with leopard skin. Another had a long, gray woollen robe
like a dressing-gown, taken up by a waist-band. A third was garbed in a
loose raiment of sheepskin, with the wool inside. Yet a fourth was
arrayed in a dark-red tunic fastened by a belt of leather with silver
ornamentations inlaid in wrought-iron. Suspended to the belt were a
needle-case, tinder-pouch and steel, a bullet-pouch and bag, and a
pretty dagger with a sheath of ebony, steel, and silver filigree. In
their belts the Jogpas, in common with the majority of Tibetan men, wore
a sword in front. Whether the coat was long or short, it was invariably
loose and made to bulge at the waist, in order that it might contain a
number of eating and drinking bowls (_pu-kus_), snuff-box, sundry bags
of money, _tsamba_, and bricks of tea. It was owing to this custom that
most Tibetan men, when seen at first, gave the impression of being very
stout, whereas, as a matter of fact, they were somewhat lightly built.
In the daytime the Tibetans left one arm and part of the chest bare,
letting one sleeve hang. The reason for this practice was because in
Tibet the days were hot and the nights cold, the drop in the thermometer
at sunset in south-west Tibet being at times as much as 80 deg., and even
100 deg. As the Tibetans always slept in their clothes, the garments that
protected their bodies from being frozen at night were found too heavy
and warm in the hot sun, and, therefore, that simple expedient was
adopted. When sitting down both arms were drawn from the sleeves, and
the chest and back were