ravines and glacial lakes piled with ice upon which the subdued glare of the sun painted prismatic colors, to fight a way through wind-beaten, storm-swept mountain passes, enduring a cold so intense that every breath of wind shrieking down from the needle-pointed peaks crashed against the face like a solid thing, and to know as each new scene loomed up that no other Christian had ever penetrated those inhospitable, bleak and desolate regions."
In Cass Ledyard's eyes there was a far-away, dreamy expression as if in retrospection he was again seeing the mysterious visions that haunt the mountain passes.
"I first heard of the little Golden Buddha at Simla in India," he continued presently, "immediately on my return from Nepal. Colonel Gerould, of the British army, told me its story one evening as we sat out on the balcony of the London Club. All about us people were laughing and chatting merrily. From far in the distance came strains of delightful music, blending pleasantly with the exquisite fragrance of a million flowers.
"'If you are looking for adventure,' drawled Colonel Gerould, 'why don't you journey to Lassa in quest of the myth-famed Golden Buddha, which is more revered by the people than is the Dalai Lama? The tiny statue is kept in a sacred temple that has stood for a thousand years. It is guarded by two old men, which is considered sufficient, for who would even attempt to steal so sacred a relic? And yet the Golden Buddha is not really the property of the Tibetans, for many years ago it was stolen from a temple somewhere in inland China. So you see by procuring the Buddha you would not be robbing the Tibetans, for surely one cannot lose title to a thing which one has never really owned.'
"Thus for an hour Colonel Gerould talked and extolled the merits of the Golden Buddha, until at last he kindled a fire of longing in my heart to journey to Lassa on a quest almost as obscure as Ponce de Leon's search for the Fountain of Youth. In less than two hours we were discussing the details of my journey. I fully appreciated the dangers which would be encountered on the road to Lassa, for the almost unknown city of mystery is one of the great centers of the religious world.
"The days that followed were as busy as any I have ever known. I went about purchasing and collecting such paraphernalia as I deemed necessary for the expedition. In this task, which was by no means small, I was ably assisted by Ben Ali Reyham, an Arab guide who had a dozen times proved his extraordinary worth to me, and Noor el Arfi, Ben Ali's greatest friend. Thus the final snags were unraveled, and at last the eventful day came which marked the start of our expedition. . .
"Of the first few days of travel nothing need be said. They contained little of interest. It was not until we got well away from the grass-covered hill country that the real trouble of our march began. Up forest-clad mountains we pushed our way, skirting moraines, through a region of perpetual snow and then down into a fertile valley once again. But the valley was only a flitting part of our journey, for soon we climbed a precipitous slope and entered the great corrugated uplands of Tibet, cut by bleak mountain ranges of tremendous height. Now we were in a weirdly wild and desolate country with nothing to break the frightful monotony but bleak walls of bare, gray rock, vast glaciers and high ranges crowned with eternal snow. Added to this, we were passing through a section peopled by tribes of fierce, warlike hills-
