his amazement the animal seemed to understand. It sank slowly to its
knees as though inviting him to mount it.

"Sahib! Sahib! He offers us his aid," cried Tashi excitedly, and he
scrambled up after Wargrave who had climbed on to the broad shoulders.

The subaltern leaned forward and, touching the huge forehead, pointed in
the direction of Bhutan. Badshah turned and moved off towards the pass
through the mountains, while the herd followed; and Frank thrilled with
the hope that at last he was about to break through the barrier of foes
between him and the girl he loved.

CHAPTER XIV

THE DEVIL DANCERS OF TUNA

Flat-roofed, arcaded buildings terraced one above the other, with gaily
painted walls from which covered wooden verandahs and box-like, latticed
windows jutted out, surrounded a paved courtyard, its rough flagstones
hidden by shifting, many-coloured throngs of gorgeously vestmented
priests, mitred bishops, hideous demons, skeletons with grinning skulls
and weird creatures with _papier mache_ heads of bears, tigers, dragons
and even stranger beasts. Wild but not inharmonious music from
shaven-headed members of an orchestra of weird instruments--gongs,
shawns, cymbals, long silver trumpets--deafened the ears. Crowds of
gaily-clad spectators covered the flat roofs of the building and
arcades, thronged the verandahs, filled the windows and squatted around
the courtyard--these last kept in order by bullet-headed lamas with
whips.

It was the annual ceremony of the Devil Dance of the great Buddhist
monastery of Tuna, one of the fantastic Mystery Plays, the now almost
meaningless functions into which the ideal faith preached by Gautama,
the Buddha, the high-souled reformer, has degenerated.

From all parts of Bhutan west of the dividing line of the great Black
Mountain Range, from Tibet, even from far-distant Ladak, the faithful
had made pilgrimage to be present at the great festival in this most
famous and sacred _gompa_ of the land. Red lamas from Western Tibet
and yellow from Lhassa, abbots and monks from little-known monasteries
lost among the rugged mountains, nuns with close-cropped hair from the
convents of Thimbu, Paro and Punaka, robber chiefs of the Hah-pa and
graziers from Sipchu, townsfolk from the capital and peasants from the
fever-laden Himalayan valleys--all had gathered there. For all who
attended the sacred festival could gain indulgences that would save them
a century or two's sojourn in