"I would like to see you stay," he said. "We in Tibet could use men like you. Unhappily, everyone does not share my opinion. I will speak for you. But do not be hopeful."

Despite the warning, his promise of support heightened our hopes. A monk patron would be most helpful to our appeal, because the allpowerful Tibetan priesthood normally resists foreign intrusions.

Next day, Aufschnaiter and I made formal calls on the four members of the Kashag, or grand cabinet. These dignitaries are responsible only to the Dalai Lama and the Regent. Entitled Shapes, they manage the secular affairs of the country (page 28). We told them of our willingness to work for the Government and urged them to support our plea for asylum.

While we waited for the Regent, spring breathed upon Lhasa. The Hair of Buddha, a venerable weeping willow at the cathedral's gate, turned golden green. Tender shoots spread an emerald haze along the Kyi River.

With spring came the dust storms. Everyone rushed for home when the cloud rolled up the valley. The Potala disappeared in the swirls of prying, suffocating powder.

Tsarong Shape, one of the dominant figures in 20th-century Tibet, invited us to move into his own palatial home. This shrewd man had been a favorite of the preceding Dalai Lama (the 13th), a member of the Kashag, and commander in chief of the Tibetan Army. The Government gave him vast estates. He fell from favor, but clung to his wealth and rank. We knew him as Master of the Mint.

We had been settled in our new residence only a week when we received an urgent message:

"The Austrians must leave the country immediately. Such is the decision of the Regent."

The order was catastrophic. Not only did it condemn us to further wanderings, but the sciatica which I had developed on our long marches in 30-below-zero weather had grown worse. At times I could hardly move.

We composed a long appeal for postponement. The reply came immediately in the form of an army lieutenant and three soldiers. The officer had orders to escort us to India, he announced, and we must be ready to leave the next day.

In desperation, Aufschnaiter insisted that the Government ask the British Legation's medical officer to examine me. Reluctantly the authorities agreed. The British physician promptly certified that I could not possibly travel. He gave me injections, but I found more comfort in an exercise prescribed by a lama: rolling a stick beneath my bare feet.

Religious Frenzy Sweeps Lhasa

For a time we heard no more about expulsion. Fortunately for us, the officials had more important things to occupy their attention. March had come, and with it the greatest of Tibetan celebrations, the New Year Festival.

Tibet's New Year started with a roar. An avalanche of 20,000 red-robed monks streamed into the holy city, doubling its population. The cacophony of prayers, drums, and cymbals echoed night and day.