the bank and blowing like a grampus. Namgay Doola wrung the water out
of his eyes and made obeisance to the King. I had time to observe him
closely. The virulent redness of his shock head and beard was most
startling; and in the thicket of hair wrinkled above high cheek bones
shone two very merry blue eyes. He was indeed an outlander, but yet a
Thibetan in language, habit, and attire. He spoke the Lepcha dialect
with an indescribable softening of the gutturals. It was not so much
a lisp as an accent.

'Whence comest thou?' I asked.

'From Thibet.' He pointed across the hills and grinned. That grin
went straight to my heart. Mechanically I held out my hand and Namgay
Doola shook it. No pure Thibetan would have understood the meaning of
the gesture. He went away to look for his clothes, and as he climbed
back to his village, I heard a joyous yell that seemed unaccountably
familiar. It was the whooping of Namgay Doola.

'You see now,' said the King, 'why I would not kill him. He is a bold
man among my logs, but,' and he shook his head like a schoolmaster,
'I know that before long there will be complaints of him in the
court. Let us return to the Palace and do justice.' It was that
King's custom to judge his subjects every day between eleven and
three o'clock. I saw him decide equitably in weighty matters of
trespass, slander, and a little wife-stealing. Then his brow clouded
and he summoned me.

'Again it is Namgay Doola,' he said despairingly. 'Not content with
refusing revenue on his own part, he has bound half his village by an
oath to the like treason. Never before has such a thing befallen me!