then ran out and held up his thumbs, expecting quarter. He
was rightly cut down with _kukris_. The dying Gurkha's comrades rushed
the cave, and drove six more over the precipice without using steel or
powder. They fell sheer 300 feet. Another Gurkha cut off a Tibetan's
head with his own sword. On several occasions they hesitated to soil
their _kukris_ when they could despatch their victims in any other way.

[Illustration: KARO LA]

On a further ridge, a heart-breaking ascent of shale and boulders, we
saw two or three hundred Tibetans ascending into the clouds. We had
marked them at the beginning of the action, before we knew that the wall
was unoccupied. Even then it was clear that the men were fugitives, and
had no thought of holding the place. We could see them hours afterwards,
with our glasses, crouching under the cliffs. We turned shrapnel and
Maxims on them; the hillsides began to move. Then a company of Pathans
was sent up, and despatched over forty. It was at this point I saw an
act of heroism which quite changed my estimate of these men. A group of
four were running up a cliff, under fire from the Pathans at a distance
of about 500 yards. One was hit, and his comrade stayed behind to carry
him. The two unimpeded Tibetans made their escape, but the rescuer could
only shamble along with difficulty. He and his wounded comrade were both
shot down.

The 18th was a disappointing day to our soldiers. But the action was of
great interest, owing to the altitude in which our flanking parties had
to operate. There is a saying on the Indian frontier: 'There is a hill;
send up a Gurkha.' These sturdy little men are splendid mountaineers,
and will climb up the face of a rock while the enemy are rolling down
stones on them as coolly as they will rush a wall under heavy fire on
the flat. Their arduous climb took three and a half hours, and was a
real mountaineering feat. The cave fighting, in which they had three
casualties, took place at 19,000 feet, and this is probably the highest
elevation at which an action has been fought in history.

A few of the Tibetans fled by the highroad, along which the mounted
infantry pursued, killing twenty and taking ten prisoners. I asked a
native officer how he decided whom to spare or kill, and he said he
killed the men who ran, and spared those who came towards him. The
destiny that preserved the lives of our ten Kham prisoners when nearly
the whole of the levy perished reminded me in