My luck seemed to have turned indeed. A few minutes later my bearer, quite unaware that any one would accompany me, entered the tent, and exclaimed in a disgusted manner: "_Shoka crab, sahib! Hunya log bura crab. Hazur hum, do admi jaldi Lhasa giao_." ("The Shokas are bad. The Hunyas are very bad. Your honour and I, we two alone, will go quickly by ourselves to Lhassa.") Here was another plucky and useful man anxious to come. He professed to have no fear of death. He was the type of man I wanted. How true the poor fellow's protestations were I learned at a later date! Chanden Sing was a man of strong sporting proclivities. His happiness was complete when he could fire his rifle at something, though he was never known to hit the mark. He had been severely reprimanded and punished by me only a few days before for wasting several cartridges on _kiang_ (wild horse) three miles distant. Ordinary work, however, such as doing his own cooking, or keeping my things tidy, was distasteful to him, and was invariably passed on to others. Mansing the leper, being unfortunately of the same caste as Chanden Sing, became my servant's servant. The two Hindoos constantly quarrelled and fought, but at heart they were the best of friends. The bearer, by means of promises, mingled at intervals with blows, eventually succeeded in inducing his _protege_ to join in our new plan, and face with us the unknown dangers ahead. CHAPTER XXXII "Devil's Camp"--A fierce snowstorm--Abandoning our tents--Dangers and perils in prospect--Collecting the men--One load too many!--Another man wanted and found--A propitious night--Good-bye to Wilson--The escape--Brigands. BY eight o'clock in the evening I had collected all the men who had promised to follow me. They comprised my bearer, Kachi and six coolies. [Illustration: "AT NIGHT I LED MY MEN UP THE MOUNTAIN IN A FIERCE SNOWSTORM"]