phrase: "Om! Mani padme Hung!" was endlessly repeated.

The Hutuktu wished us success, presented us with a large yellow hatyk
and accompanied us to the monastery gate. When we were in our saddles he
said:

"Remember that you are always welcome guests here. Life is very
complicated and anything may happen. Perhaps you will be forced in
future to re-visit distant Mongolia and then do not miss Narabanchi
Kure."

That night we returned to the Tartars and the next day continued our
journey. As I was very tired, the slow, easy motion of the camel was
welcome and restful to me. All the day I dozed off at intervals to
sleep. It turned out to be very disastrous for me; for, when my camel
was going up the steep bank of a river, in one of my naps I fell off
and hit my head on a stone, lost consciousness and woke up to find
my overcoat covered with blood. My friends surrounded me with their
frightened faces. They bandaged my head and we started off again. I only
learned long afterwards from a doctor who examined me that I had cracked
my skull as the price of my siesta.

We crossed the eastern ranges of the Altai and the Karlik Tag, which are
the most oriental sentinels the great Tian Shan system throws out into
the regions of the Gobi; and then traversed from the north to the south
the entire width of the Khuhu Gobi. Intense cold ruled all this time and
fortunately the frozen sands gave us better speed. Before passing the
Khara range, we exchanged our rocking-chair steeds for horses, a deal in
which the Torguts skinned us badly like the true "old clothes men" they
are.