wicked would not dare to commit either robbery or murder. But it was necessary for me to take precautions in anticipation of dangers that might befall me as soon as I should be out of this sacred region. Such were the reasons why I did so much preaching, and fortunately my sermons were well received by my companions.
On the 28th of August we travelled about twenty miles over an undulating country. Throughout that distance we could not get a drop of water, and I had nothing to drink except a cup of tea which I took in the morning just before starting. We were of course all terribly thirsty; yet to me the suffering was not half so great as that I had felt during the former distressing experiences already narrated. Towards the evening we came upon the upper course of the Langchen Khanbab. This is the river called Sutlej in English. It is the head-water of a river which flows westward into India, and, after meeting with the Sitā, forms the great Indus that empties itself into the Arabian Sea. My companions volunteered to tell me that this river started from Lake Mānasarovara. When I pointed out to them that the Lake Mānasarovara was surrounded by mountains on all sides and had no outlet, they replied: "True, but the river has its source in a spring to be found under a great rock, east of the monastery named Chugo Gronpa (the monastery of the source of the river), in a gorge on the north-western side of Mount Kailāsa. That spring is fed by the waters of Lake Mānasarovara that travel thither underground. Hence it may be said with equal truth that the river flows out of the lake." This was indeed an ingenious way of accounting for the popular belief. But judging from the position of the river, it seemed to me that it must take its origin on a higher level than that of Lake Mānasarovara and I was not (nor am I now) ready to admit the correctness of the native contention. On arriving at the bank of the river we pitched our tents as
