"Hurry, hurry!" shouted the guide.

With great difficulty we forced our horses to jump over this cleavage
and to continue on further. They trembled and disobeyed and only the
strong lash forced them to forget this panic of fear and go on.

When we were safe on the farther bank and well into the woods, our
Mongol guide recounted to us how the river at times opens in this
mysterious way and leaves great areas of clear water. All the men and
animals on the river at such times must perish. The furious current of
cold water will always carry them down under the ice. At other times a
crack has been known to pass right under a horse and, where he fell in
with his front feet in the attempt to get back to the other side, the
crack has closed up and ground his legs or feet right off.

The valley of Kosogol is the crater of an extinct volcano. Its outlines
may be followed from the high west shore of the lake. However, the
Plutonic force still acts and, asserting the glory of the Devil, forces
the Mongols to build obo and offer sacrifices at his shrines. We spent
all the night and all the next day hurrying away eastward to avoid a
meeting with the Reds and seeking good pasturage for our horses. At
about nine o'clock in the evening a fire shone out of the distance. My
friend and I made toward it with the feeling that it was surely a Mongol
yurta beside which we could camp in safety. We traveled over a mile
before making out distinctly the lines of a group of yurtas. But nobody
came out to meet us and, what astonished us more, we were not surrounded
by the angry black Mongolian dogs with fiery eyes. Still, from the
distance we had seen the fire and so there must be someone there. We
dismounted from our horses and approached on foot. From out of the yurta