"Do as you think best," I replied rather indifferently. "As a matter of
fact, I know how to treat eye diseases but I would go back if you say
so."

"No, no!" the old man exclaimed with fear. "I shall guide you myself."

Sitting by the fire, he lighted his pipe with a flint, wiped
the mouthpiece on his sleeve and offered it to me in true native
hospitality. I was "comme il faut" and smoked. Afterwards he offered his
pipe to each one of our company and received from each a cigarette, a
little tobacco or some matches. It was the seal on our friendship. Soon
in our yurta many persons piled up around us, men, women, children and
dogs. It was impossible to move. From among them emerged a Lama with
shaved face and close cropped hair, dressed in the flowing red garment
of his caste. His clothes and his expression were very different from
the common mass of dirty Soyots with their queues and felt caps finished
off with squirrel tails on the top. The Lama was very kindly disposed
towards us but looked ever greedily at our gold rings and watches. I
decided to exploit this avidity of the Servant of Buddha. Supplying
him with tea and dried bread, I made known to him that I was in need of
horses.

"I have a horse. Will you buy it from me?" he asked. "But I do not
accept Russian bank notes. Let us exchange something."

For a long time I bargained with him and at last for my gold wedding
ring, a raincoat and a leather saddle bag I received a fine Soyot
horse--to replace one of the pack animals we had lost--and a young goat.
We spent the night here and were feasted with fat mutton. In the morning