A few miles below the pass the valley widened into an almost level bottom of half a mile or more, with steep bare limestone hills on either side. Here and there were small hamlets, where the inhabitants used the water of the river to irrigate their fields of barley and of blazing golden mustard, whose sweetness scented the valley in the sunshine. Like most of the butter, which is made in vast quantities in Southern Tibet, the mustard seed produces oil for monastery lamps. At one place we came across a spring, almost a fountain, bubbling out of the foothill, of clearest sparkling mineral water that would be the envy of Bath or of Marienbad; in a few yards it had become a racing stream a dozen feet in width. Four days of leisurely walking down the valley brought us to the village of Nyenyam, where the whole population, a most unpleasant-looking crowd of four or five hundred people, came out to stare at us. A few only were Tibetans; the majority were obviously of Indian origin, calling themselves Nepalese, but without any of the distinctive features of that race. We had received some weeks earlier a cordial invitation from the Jongpens of Nyenyam to visit the place, and we were accordingly much disappointed to find that no person of authority came out to welcome us. A Jongpen, it should be said, is an official appointed by the Lhasa authorities to administer a district and collect revenues: in a place of any importance, as at Nyenyam, there are often two, the idea being that one will keep an eye on the other and prevent him from over-enriching himself. We visited these worthies, whom we found dressed in priceless Chinese silk gowns and cultivating the extreme fashion of long nails on all their fingers, in strange contrast to the squalor and dilapidation of their dwelling, and were annoyed to find that they denied all knowledge of the invitation. The bearer of the message was produced and lied manfully in their cause; the name of Nyenyam was not, as it happened, mentioned in our passport, and we were made to look somewhat foolish. Finally the Jongpens said (with their tongues in their cheeks and reminding us of a vulgar song) that they were very glad to see us, but they hoped that we would go. They then went out of their way to give us false information about the local passes and made our prolonged stay in the place impossible by discouraging the traders from dealing with us.[15] [15] In fairness it must be said that this was the only occasion on which we met with anything but help and civility from Tibetan officials.