before us in a wonderful gown of silk, yellow as beaten gold and girt
with a brilliant blue sash. His cleanly shaven face, short hair, red
coral rosary on the left hand and his yellow garment proved clearly that
before us stood some high Lama Priest,--with a big Colt under his blue
sash!

I turned to my host and Tzeren and read in their faces fear and
veneration. The stranger came over to the brazier and sat down.

"Let's speak Russian," he said and took a bit of meat.

The conversation began. The stranger began to find fault with the
Government of the Living Buddha in Urga.

"There they liberate Mongolia, capture Urga, defeat the Chinese army and
here in the west they give us no news of it. We are without action here
while the Chinese kill our people and steal from them. I think that
Bogdo Khan might send us envoys. How is it the Chinese can send their
envoys from Urga and Kiakhta to Kobdo, asking for assistance, and the
Mongol Government cannot do it? Why?"

"Will the Chinese send help to Urga?" I asked.

Our guest laughed hoarsely and said: "I caught all the envoys, took away
their letters and then sent them back . . . into the ground."

He laughed again and glanced around peculiarly with his blazing eyes.
Only then did I notice that his cheekbones and eyes had lines strange to
the Mongols of Central Asia. He looked more like a Tartar or a Kirghiz.
We were silent and smoked our pipes.