clock to six o'clock, and usually
I took the first and the Lama the last. The animals were tethered to a
rope fastened to the ground in the lee of the tent, and Tiger was tied
up in front of them and Lilliput behind them.

At half-past eight Shagdur and the Lama were asleep in the tent, and my
first night watch began. I strolled backwards and forwards between Tiger
and Lilliput, who whined with pleasure when I stroked them. The sky was
covered with dense black clouds, lighted from within by flashes of
lightning, while thunder rolled around us and rain streamed down in a
perfect deluge. It beat and rang on the Mongolian stewpans left out at
the fireplace. Sometimes I tried to get a little shelter in the tent
opening, but as soon as the dogs growled I had to hurry out again.

At last it is midnight and my watch is at an end; but Shagdur is
sleeping so soundly that I cannot find it in my heart to waken him. I am
just thinking of shortening his watch by half an hour when both dogs
begin to bark furiously. The Lama wakes up and rushes out, and we steal
off with our weapons in the direction in which we hear the tramp of a
horse going away through the mud. In a little while all is quiet again,
and the dogs cease to bark. I wake up Shagdur and creep into my berth in
my wet coat.

Next day we travel on under a sky as heavy as lead. No human beings or
nomad tents are to be seen, but we find numerous tracks of flocks of
sheep and yaks, and old camping-grounds. The danger of meeting people
increased hourly, and so did my anxiety as to how the Tibetans would
treat us when we were at last discovered.

On July 31 the rain was still pouring down. We were following a clear,
well-trodden path, along which a herd of yaks had recently been driven.
After a while we came up with a party of Tangut pilgrims, with fifty
yaks, two horses, and three dogs. The Tanguts are a nomadic people in
northeastern Tibet, and almost every second Tangut is also a robber. We
passed them safely, however, and for the first time encamped near a
Tibetan nomad tent occupied by a young man and two women.

While the Lama was talking with these people, the owner of the tent came
up and was much astonished to find an unexpected visitor. He followed
the Lama to our tent and sat down on the wet ground outside the
entrance. His name was Sampo Singi, and he was the dirtiest fellow I
ever saw in my life. The rain-water dropped from his matted hair on to
the ragged cloa