To my immense surprise, Lady Meadowcroft rose to the height of the situation.  “Oh, as long as it isn’t disease,” she answered, resignedly; “I’m not much afraid of anything.  I should mind the plague a great deal more than I mind a set of howling savages.”

By that time the men in yellow robes had almost come up to us.  It was clear they were boiling over with indignation; but they still did everything decently and in order.  One, who was dressed in finer vestments than the rest—­a portly person, with the fat, greasy cheeks and drooping flesh of a celibate church dignitary, whom I therefore judged to be the abbot, or chief Lama of the monastery—­gave orders to his subordinates in a language which we did not understand.  His men obeyed him.  In a second they had closed us round, as in a ring or cordon.

Then the chief Lama stepped forward, with an authoritative air, like Pooh-Bah in the play, and said something in the same tongue to the cook, who spoke a little Tibetan.  It was obvious from his manner that Ram Das had told them all about us; for the Lama selected the cook as interpreter at once, without taking any notice of myself, the ostensible head of the petty expedition.

“What does he, say?” I asked, as soon as he had finished speaking.

The cook, who had been salaaming all the time, at the risk of a broken back, in his most utterly abject and grovelling attitude, made answer tremulously in his broken English:  “This is priest-sahib of the temple.  He very angry, because why?  Eulopean-sahib and mem-sahibs come into Tibet-land.  No Eulopean, no Hindu, must come into Tibet-land.  Priest-sahib say, cut all Eulopean throats.  Let Nepaul man go back like him come, to him own country.”

I looked as if the message were purely indifferent to me.  “Tell him,” I said, smiling—­though at some little effort—­“we were not trying to enter Tibet.  Our rascally guide misled us.  We were going to Kulak, in the Maharajah’s territory.  We will turn back quietly to the Maharajah’s land if the priest-sahib will allow us to camp out for the night here.”

I glanced at Hilda and Lady Meadowcroft.  I must say their bearing under these trying circumstances was thoroughly worthy of two English ladies.  They stood erect, looking as though all Tibet might come, and they would smile at it scornfully.

The cook interpreted my remarks as well as he was able—­his Tibetan being probably about equal in quality to his English.  But the chief Lama made a reply which I could see for myself was by no means friendly.

“What is his answer?” I asked the cook, in my haughtiest voice.  I am haughty with difficulty.

Our interpreter salaamed once more, shaking in his shoes, if he wore any.  “Priest-sahib say, that all lies.  That all dam-lies.  You is Eulopean missionary, very bad man; you want to go to Lhasa.  But no white sahib must go to Lhasa.  Holy city, Lhasa; for Buddhists only.  This is not the way to Kulak; this not Maharajah’s land.  This place belong-a Dalai-Lama, head of all Lamas; have house at Lhasa.  But priest-sahib know you Eulopean missionary, want to go Lhasa, convert Buddhists, because . . .  Ram Das tell him so.”