have reached these rocks above, the wind will have ceased and the
snowstorm will have subsided. The sun will shine as we cross the snowy
plain above and afterwards we shall descend into a small valley where
there are larches growing and a stream of open running water. There we
shall light our fires and spend the night."

The Soyot began to tremble with fright.

"Noyon has already passed these mountains of Darkhat Ola?" he asked in
amazement.

"No," I answered, "but last night I had a vision and I know that we
shall fortunately win over this ridge."

"I will guide you!" exclaimed the Soyot, and, whipping his horse, led
the way up the steep slope to the top of the ridge of eternal snows.

As we were passing along the narrow edge of a precipice, the Soyot
stopped and attentively examined the trail.

"Today many shod horses have passed here!" he cried through the roar
of the storm. "Yonder on the snow the lash of a whip has been dragged.
These are not Soyots."

The solution of this enigma appeared instantly. A volley rang out. One
of my companions cried out, as he caught hold of his right shoulder; one
pack horse fell dead with a bullet behind his ear. We quickly tumbled
out of our saddles, lay down behind the rocks and began to study the
situation. We were separated from a parallel spur of the mountain by a
small valley about one thousand paces across. There we made out about