168 TRAVELLERS' TALES 



valley advanced down the hill. The intruders had 

 only traversed about half the line of battle, w^hen 

 down went the flag and bullets began to fly. The 

 lower party becoming demoralised, gave up the 

 contest and followed in their tracks. 



Before long they overtook them and soon Mr. 

 Christie was surrounded by a mob of angry men, 

 brandishing their weapons and shouting, " He is 

 responsible for our defeat I " " Kill the Russian ! " 

 " Kill him ! " Matters looked rather ugly, and Mr. 

 Christie began to feel apprehensive, when, suddenly, 

 a man forced his way through the crowd which 

 surrounded him, seized the pony's bridle, took off 

 his cap and cried in English, " Yes ! Yes ! Back- 

 sheesh ! Backsheesh ! " 



Very much surprised, Mr. Christie asked him 

 who he was. 



" Yes " and " Backsheesh " exhausted his 

 English, but he turned out to be a man who 

 had spent eighteen months in Darjeeling, of all 

 places. He explained to his companions that 

 JNIr. Christie was no Russian but an Englishman ; 

 that the English were good people whom he 

 knew wxll ; and that they always gave Thibetans 

 backsheesh. 



The temper of the crowd changed at once 

 and the men who, a few moments before, were 

 clamouring for his blood, now patted their visitor 

 on the back, stroked his clothes and shook hands 

 with him. A small present of cash to the traveller 

 from Darjeeling called forth profuse expressions of 

 gratitude and thanks, and the incident ended 

 pleasantly for all concerned. But it was a w^onder- 

 ful coincidence ! 



