Chad looked him over with profound gravity. "Well, Jim, I'm glad you are telling me that you are cut out for an early grave; I should never have believed it if you hadn't said so yourself." "Wouldn't there be a rumpus if the Lamas knew about this trip of ours?" Chad resumed as though fascinated with the idea. "I can see ourselves calling each other lucky because we only got kicked over this precipice here." "You can occupy yourself with such thoughts if you want to," exclaimed Jim; "but I'm going to hustle up that John Chinaman. It seems to me he's pretty slow this evening, and I'm hungry." "If your constitution is spoiled?" laughed Chad. "Well, good luck; call me when you're ready," and the young reporter threw himself down upon the rocks and looked off toward Lhasa. In a few minutes he heard Jim's voice raised in alarm. "John! John! Oh, John-n!" As Chad sprang up and started along the path, he met Jim coming back. "Say, Chad, that rascal of a chink has vanished completely with a good half of the supplies, and if you say, 'I told you so,' I'll light out too!" "Is the camera safe?" was Chad's instant response. "Why, I guess so; the box is anyhow--I didn't look inside." "Well, I guess we'll get along then. I ought to be able to cook well enough to suit a man of your enfeebled condition," and Chad looked at Jim's broad shoulders in some amusement in spite of the seriousness of the situation. "Really, Chad, is it safe to go on? Do you think we ought to risk it?" "Risk it! Are we going to take three months for preparation, and then come four thousand miles on a trip of this sort, only to give it up in sight of the end, because a rogue runs off? Well, I guess not." "All right," Jim returned laconically, "I just wanted to know how you felt about it." Some three hours later the two men were wrapped up in their furs ready for the night. "Say, Chad," said Jim, as he lay watching the stars in the clear sky, "what makes a Chinaman so afraid of a camera? I am quite certain that you never told me." "I believe that they think a man's soul is killed when his picture is taken," said Chad sleepily. "'Buddha doesn't like it' is quite reason enough for most of 'em." The last sentence was half lost in a snore, and the Grand Lama was photographed a dozen times in Jim's dreams.