together save one Soyot who limped slowly in the rear and was holding
his hand up over his nose.

"Is he ill?" I asked.

"Yes," sadly answered the old Soyot. "That is my son. He has been losing
blood from the nose for two days and is now quite weak."

I stopped and called the young man to me.

"Unbutton your outer coat," I ordered, "bare your neck and chest and
turn your face up as far as you can." I pressed the jugular vein on both
sides of his head for some minutes and said to him:

"The blood will not flow from your nose any more. Go into your tepee and
lie down for some time."

The "mysterious" action of my fingers created on the Soyots a strong
impression. The old Soyot with fear and reverence whispered:

"Ta Lama, Ta Lama! (Great Doctor)."

In the yurta we were given tea while the old Soyot sat thinking deeply
about something. Afterwards he took counsel with his companions and
finally announced:

"The wife of our Prince is sick in her eyes and I think the Prince will
be very glad if I lead the 'Ta Lama' to him. He will not punish me,
for he ordered that no 'bad people' should be allowed to pass; but that
should not stop the 'good people' from coming to us.