He proved to be a tall, good-looking, well-built stripling, aged eighteen, with hair cut in the Siamese fashion and thrown back from his square perpendicular forehead, and eyes with no Mongolian incline about them, but slightly more opened at the inner corners than those of Europeans. He looked painfully shy, and very much ill at ease when he saw the trap he had got into. I offered him a cigar, which he accepted and nervously twiddled about in his fingers, looking every now and then over his shoulder to see whether any of his companions had followed him, or to calculate the chance for escape. After striking a light for him, I said we were very interested in his people, and wished to learn what we could about their manners and customs, and a few words of their language; and that, if he gave me the information, I would pay him for his trouble, and give him some beads to take to his people. He grew gradually more composed, but still appeared very uneasy. He said their customs were precisely similar to those of the Shans. Like them, they were now Buddhists, and had monasteries in the larger villages. They called themselves _L’wa_; water they called _ra-own_; fire, _ngau_; man, _pree-ra-mee_; woman, _pa-ra-peum_; day, _meu-sun-nyit_; and night, _thom_. He then implored me to let him go, as his friends were waiting for him; and he promised to come again in the evening with a friend, and give us further information. A bird in the hand, particularly such a shy bird as this Lawa, is worth two in the bush; but as he was growing more restless and uneasy every moment, I gave him a rupee and a couple of bead necklaces, and promised him more if he kept his appointment. We then said good-bye, and he hurried off with his presents to join his companions. True to his word, he brought a comrade in the evening, and, being quite at his ease, gave us all the information we required. All our questions were answered in a frank, intelligent manner.