We bowed in as near Oriental fashion as we knew how. Maurice, through Ah Schow, assuring “our elder brother,” that on the k’ang was room enough for all.
Now, to our surprise, the fellow, instead of being followed up by his companions who were crowding about the open door, retreated, and presently we saw the covered litter, palanquin, or whatever you may please to call it, brought up.
Meanwhile Maurice and I had gone out, and found ourselves facing a staring crowd of fierce looking fellows of which the man I have just described was a fair type.
Evidently they were puzzled to make us out, in spite of the fact that we were dressed in the costume of the Thibetan lamas, wearing the long black cloaks, Chinese trousers and shoes; our appearance was correct except for our hair, which we had cut as short as possible without shaving, something we ought to have done to make the illusion complete. This I ought to have mentioned before, and that I have not done so is an oversight. Of course any one who has ever read a line about Thibet knows how utterly impossible it would be for us to gain admittance to the country in any other dress.
Grouped behind their drivers were the camels, whose mournful cries had aroused our mules in the little stable back of the inn, and they were by no means slow to make their voices heard. Every camel, besides the tremendous load each carried, was hung with bells innumerable and these clanged and jangled with each movement, producing an effect truly Wagnerian; in fact between the bells and the ceaseless chatter of the drivers, even had we been perfect artists in Thibetan, it would have been quite impossible to have made ourselves heard.
“Find out who these people are and what they are going to do,” Maurice said to Ah Schow. “If they’ve got some great man in that travelling house, find out who he is so that we may do the honors of the inn in proper shape.”
This started Ah Schow off to mingle with the crowd, but before he returned with the desired information, the mystery had in part solved itself.
Six long-haired men were crowding around the litter as soon as the bearers let it down.
It was a simple affair—just a sort of hand barrow with four upright poles over which rush mats were thrown.
“Thunder and Mars! Why don’t the fellow get out?”
