Just at this time there arrived at the house of the Bolshevist Russian

colonist Bourdukoff three Bolshevik agents from Irkutsk named Saltikoff,

Freimann and Novak, who started an agitation among the Chinese

authorities to get them to disarm the Russian officers and hand them

over to the Reds. They persuaded the Chinese Chamber of Commerce to

petition the Irkutsk Soviet to send a detachment of Reds to Uliassutai

for the protection of the Chinese against the White detachments.

Freimann brought with him communistic pamphlets in Mongolian and

instructions to begin the reconstruction of the telegraph line to

Irkutsk. Bourdukoff also received some messages from the Bolsheviki.

This quartette developed their policy very successfully and soon

saw Wang Tsao-tsun fall in with their schemes. Once more the days of

expecting a pogrom in Uliassutai returned to us. The Russian officers

anticipated attempts to arrest them. The representative of one of the

American firms went with me to the Commissioner for a parley. We pointed

out to him the illegality of his acts, inasmuch as he was not authorized

by his Government to treat with the Bolsheviki when the Soviet

Government had not been recognized by Peking. Wang Tsao-tsun and his

advisor Fu Hsiang were palpably confused at finding we knew of his

secret meetings with the Bolshevik agents. He assured us that his guard

was sufficient to prevent any such pogrom. It was quite true that his

guard was very capable, as it consisted of well trained and disciplined

soldiers under the command of a serious-minded and well educated

officer; but, what could eighty soldiers do against a mob of three

thousand coolies, one thousand armed merchants and two hundred gamins?

We strongly registered our apprehensions and urged him to avoid any

bloodshed, pointing out that the foreign and Russian population were

determined to defend themselves to the last moment. Wang at once ordered

the establishment of strong guards on the streets and thus made a very

interesting picture with all the Russian, foreign and Chinese patrols

moving up and down throughout the whole town. Then we did not know there

were three hundred more sentinels on duty, the men of Tushegoun Lama

hidden nearby in the mountains.

Once more the picture changed very sharply and suddenly. The Mongolian

Sait received news through the Lamas of the nearest monastery that

Colonel Kazagrandi, after fighting with the Chinese irregulars, had

captured Van Kure and had formed there Russian-Mongolian brigades of

cavalry, mobilizing the Mongols by the order of the Living Buddha and

the Russians by order of Baron Ungern. A few hours later it became known

that in the large monastery of Dzain the Chinese soldiers had killed the

Russian Captain Barsky and as a result some of the troops of Kazagrandi

attacked and swept the Chinese out of the place. At the taking of Van

Kure the Russians arrested a Korean Communist who was on his way from

Moscow with gold and propaganda to work in Korea and America. Colonel

Kazagrandi sent this Korean with his freight of gold to Baron Ungern.

After receiving this news the chief of the Russian detachment in

Uliassutai arrested all the Bolsheviki agents and passed judgment upon

them and upon the murderers of the Bobroffs. Kanine, Madame Pouzikoff

and Freimann were shot. Regarding Saltikoff and Novak some doubt sprang

up and, moreover, Saltikoff escaped and hid, while Novak, under advice

from Lieutenant Colonel Michailoff, left for the west. The chief of the

Russian detachment gave out orders for the mobilization of the Russian

colonists and openly took Uliassutai under his protection with the tacit

agreement of the Mongolian authorities. The Mongol Sait, Chultun Beyli,

convened a council of the neighboring Mongolian Princes, the soul of

which was the noted Mongolian patriot, Hun Jap Lama. The Princes quickly

formulated their demands upon the Chinese for the complete evacuation of

the territory subject to the Sait Chultun Beyli. Out of it grew parleys,

threats and friction between the various Chinese and Mongolian elements.

Wang Tsao-tsun proposed his scheme of settlement, which some of the

Mongolian Princes accepted; but Jap Lama at the decisive moment threw

the Chinese document to the ground, drew his knife and swore that

he would die by his own hand rather than set it as a seal upon this

treacherous agreement. As a result the Chinese proposals were rejected

and the antagonists began to prepare themselves for the struggle. All

the armed Mongols were summoned from Jassaktu Khan, Sain-Noion Khan and

the dominion of Jahantsi Lama. The Chinese authorities placed their

four machine guns and prepared to defend the fortress. Continuous

deliberations were held by both the Chinese and Mongols. Finally, our

old acquaintance Tzeren came to me as one of the unconcerned foreigners

and handed to me the joint requests of Wang Tsao-tsun and Chultun Beyli

to try to pacify the two elements and to work out a fair agreement

between them. Similar requests were handed to the representative of an

American firm. The following evening we held the first meeting of

the arbitrators and the Chinese and Mongolian representatives. It

was passionate and stormy, so that we foreigners lost all hope of the

success of our mission. However, at midnight when the speakers were

tired, we secured agreement on two points: the Mongols announced that

they did not want to make war and that they desired to settle this

matter in such a way as to retain the friendship of the great Chinese

people; while the Chinese Commissioner acknowledged that China had

violated the treaties by which full independence had been legally

granted to Mongolia.

These two points formed for us the groundwork of the next meeting and

gave us the starting points for urging reconciliation. The deliberations

continued for three days and finally turned so that we foreigners could

propose our suggestions for an agreement. Its chief provisions were that

the Chinese authorities should surrender administrative powers, return

the arms to the Mongolians, disarm the two hundred gamins and leave

the country; and that the Mongols on their side should give free and

honorable passage of their country to the Commissioner with his armed

guard of eighty men. This Chinese-Mongolian Treaty of Uliassutai was

signed and sealed by the Chinese Commissioners, Wang Tsao-tsun and Fu

Hsiang, by both Mongolian Saits, by Hun Jap Lama and other Princes,

as well as by the Russian and Chinese Presidents of the Chambers of

Commerce and by us foreign arbitrators. The Chinese officials and convoy

began at once to pack up their belongings and prepare for departure. The

Chinese merchants remained in Uliassutai because Sait Chultun Beyli,

now having full authority and power, guaranteed their safety. The day of

departure for the expedition of Wang Tsao-tsun arrived. The camels with

their packs already filled the yamen court-yard and the men only awaited

the arrival of their horses from the plains. Suddenly the news spread

everywhere that the herd of horses had been stolen during the night

and run off toward the south. Of two soldiers that had been sent out to

follow the tracks of the herd only one came back with the news that the

other had been killed. Astonishment spread over the whole town while

among the Chinese it turned to open panic. It perceptibly increased when

some Mongols from a distant ourton to the east came in and announced

that in various places along the post road to Urga they had discovered

the bodies of sixteen of the soldiers whom Wang Tsao-tsun had sent

out with letters for Urga. The mystery of these events will soon be

explained.

The chief of the Russian detachment received a letter from a Cossack

Colonel, V. N. Domojiroff, containing the order to disarm immediately

the Chinese garrison, to arrest all Chinese officials for transport

to Baron Ungern at Urga, to take control of Uliassutai, by force if

necessary, and to join forces with his detachment. At the very same time

a messenger from the Narabanchi Hutuktu galloped in with a letter to the

effect that a Russian detachment under the leadership of Hun Boldon and

Colonel Domojiroff from Urga had pillaged some Chinese firms and killed

the merchants, had come to the Monastery and demanded horses, food and

shelter. The Hutuktu asked for help because the ferocious conqueror of

Kobdo, Hun Boldon, could very easily pillage the unprotected isolated

monastery. We strongly urged Colonel Michailoff not to violate the

sealed treaty and discountenance all the foreigners and Russians who had

taken part in making it, for this would but be to imitate the Bolshevik

principle of making deceit the leading rule in all acts of state.

This touched Michailoff and he answered Domojiroff that Uliassutai was

already in his hands without a fight; that over the building of the

former Russian Consulate the tri-color flag of Russia was flying; the

gamins had been disarmed but that the other orders could not be carried

out, because their execution would violate the Chinese-Mongolian treaty

just signed in Uliassutai.

Daily several envoys traveled from Narabanchi Hutuktu to Uliassutai.

The news became more and more disquieting. The Hutuktu reported that Hun

Boldon was mobilizing the Mongolian beggars and horse stealers, arming

and training them; that the soldiers were taking the sheep of the

monastery; that the “Noyon” Domojiroff was always drunk; and that the

protests of the Hutuktu were answered with jeers and scolding. The

messengers gave very indefinite information regarding the strength of

the detachment, some placing it at about thirty while others stated that

Domojiroff said he had eight hundred in all. We could not understand

it at all and soon the messengers ceased coming. All the letters of the

Sait remained unanswered and the envoys did not return. There seemed to

be no doubt that the men had been killed or captured.

Prince Chultun Beyli determined to go himself. He took with him the

Russian and Chinese Presidents of the Chambers of Commerce and two

Mongolian officers. Three days elapsed without receiving any news

from him whatever. The Mongols began to get worried. Then the Chinese

Commissioner and Hun Jap Lama addressed a request to the foreigner

group to send some one to Narabanchi, in order to try to resolve the

controversy there and to persuade Domojiroff to recognize the treaty and

not permit the “great insult of violation” of a covenant between the two

great peoples. Our group asked me once more to accomplish this mission

pro bono publico. I had assigned me as interpreter a fine young Russian

colonist, the nephew of the murdered Bobroff, a splendid rider as well

as a cool, brave man. Lt.-Colonel Michailoff gave me one of his officers

to accompany me. Supplied with an express tzara for the post horses and

guides, we traveled rapidly over the way which was now familiar to me

to find my old friend, Jelib Djamsrap Huktuktu of Narabanchi. Although

there was deep snow in some places, we made from one hundred to one

hundred and fifteen miles per day.

CHAPTER XXVI

THE BAND OF WHITE HUNGHUTZES

We arrived at Narabanchi late at night on the third day out. As we were

approaching, we noticed several riders who, as soon as they had seen us,

galloped quickly back to the monastery. For some time we looked for the

camp of the Russian detachment without finding it. The Mongols led us

into the monastery, where the Hutuktu immediately received me. In his

yurta sat Chultun Beyli. There he presented me with hatyks and said to

me: “The very God has sent you here to us in this difficult moment.”

It seems Domojiroff had arrested both the Presidents of the Chambers of

Commerce and had threatened to shoot Prince Chultun. Both Domojiroff and

Hun Boldon had no documents legalizing their activities. Chultun Beyli

was preparing to fight with them.

I asked them to take me to Domojiroff. Through the dark I saw four big

yurtas and two Mongol sentinels with Russian rifles. We entered the

Russian “Noyon’s” tent. A very strange picture was presented to our

eyes. In the middle of the yurta the brazier was burning. In the usual

place for the altar stood a throne, on which the tall, thin, grey-haired

Colonel Domojiroff was seated. He was only in his undergarments and

stockings, was evidently a little drunk and was telling stories. Around

the brazier lay twelve young men in various picturesque poses. My

officer companion reported to Domojiroff about the events in Uliassutai

and during the conversation I asked Domojiroff where his detachment was

encamped. He laughed and answered, with a sweep of his hand: “This is my

detachment.” I pointed out to him that the form of his orders to us in

Uliassutai had led us to believe that he must have a large company with

him. Then I informed him that Lt.-Colonel Michailoff was preparing to

cross swords with the Bolshevik force approaching Uliassutai.

“What?” he exclaimed with fear and confusion, “the Reds?”

We spent the night in his yurta and, when I was ready to lie down, my

officer whispered to me:

“Be sure to keep your revolver handy,” to which I laughed and said:

“But we are in the center of a White detachment and therefore in perfect

safety!”

“Uh-huh!” answered my officer and finished the response with one eye

closed.

The next day I invited Domojiroff to walk with me over the plain, when

I talked very frankly with him about what had been happening. He and Hun

Boldon had received orders from Baron Ungern simply to get into touch

with General Bakitch, but instead they began pillaging Chinese firms

along the route and he had made up his mind to become a great conqueror.

On the way he had run across some of the officers who deserted Colonel

Kazagrandi and formed his present band. I succeeded in persuading

Domojiroff to arrange matters peacefully with Chultun Beyli and not to

violate the treaty. He immediately went ahead to the monastery. As I

returned, I met a tall Mongol with a ferocious face, dressed in a blue

silk outercoat--it was Hun Boldon. He introduced himself and spoke

with me in Russian. I had only time to take off my coat in the tent of

Domojiroff when a Mongol came running to invite me to the yurta of

Hun Boldon. The Prince lived just beside me in a splendid blue yurta.

Knowing the Mongolian custom, I jumped into the saddle and rode the ten

paces to his door. Hun Boldon received me with coldness and pride.

“Who is he?” he inquired of the interpreter, pointing to me with his

finger.

I understood his desire to offend me and I answered in the same manner,

thrusting out my finger toward him and turning to the interpreter with

the same question in a slightly more unpleasant tone:

“Who is he? High Prince and warrior or shepherd and brute?”

Boldon at once became confused and, with trembling voice and agitation

in his whole manner, blurted out to me that he would not allow me to

interfere in his affairs and would shoot every man who dared to run

counter to his orders. He pounded on the low table with his fist and

then rose up and drew his revolver. But I was much traveled among the

nomads and had studied them thoroughly--Princes, Lamas, shepherds and

brigands. I grasped my whip and, striking it on the table with all my

strength, I said to the interpreter:

“Tell him that he has the honor to speak with neither Mongol nor Russian

but with a foreigner, a citizen of a great and free state. Tell him he

must first learn to be a man and then he can visit me and we can talk

together.”

I turned and went out. Ten minutes later Hun Boldon entered my yurta and

offered his apologies. I persuaded him to parley with Chultun Beyli

and not to offend the free Mongol people with his activities. That very

night all was arranged. Hun Boldon dismissed his Mongols and left for

Kobdo, while Domojiroff with his band started for Jassaktu Khan to

arrange for the mobilization of the Mongols there. With the consent of

Chultun Beyli he wrote to Wang Tsao-tsun a demand to disarm his guard,

as all of the Chinese troops in Urga had been so treated; but this

letter arrived after Wang had bought camels to replace the stolen horses

and was on his way to the border. Later Lt.-Colonel Michailoff sent

a detachment of fifty men under the command of Lieutenant Strigine to

overhaul Wang and receive their arms.

CHAPTER XXVII

MYSTERY IN A SMALL TEMPLE

Prince Chultun Beyli and I were ready to leave the Narabanchi Kure.

While the Hutuktu was holding service for the Sait in the Temple of

Blessing, I wandered around through the narrow alleyways between the

walls of the houses of the various grades of Lama Gelongs, Getuls,

Chaidje and Rabdjampa; of schools where the learned doctors of theology

or Maramba taught together with the doctors of medicine or Ta Lama;

of the residences for students called Bandi; of stores, archives and

libraries. When I returned to the yurta of the Hutuktu, he was inside.

He presented me with a large hatyk and proposed a walk around the

monastery. His face wore a preoccupied expression from which I gathered

that he had something he wished to discuss with me. As we went out of

the yurta, the liberated President of the Russian Chamber of Commerce

and a Russian officer joined us. The Hutuktu led us to a small building

just back of a bright yellow stone wall.

“In that building once stopped the Dalai Lama and Bogdo Khan and we

always paint the buildings yellow where these holy persons have lived.

Enter!”

The interior of the building was arranged with splendor. On the ground

floor was the dining-room, furnished with richly carved, heavy blackwood

Chinese tables and cabinets filled with porcelains and bronze. Above

were two rooms, the first a bed-room hung with heavy yellow silk

curtains; a large Chinese lantern richly set with colored stones hung

by a thin bronze chain from the carved wooden ceiling beam. Here stood

a large square bed covered with silken pillows, mattresses and blankets.

The frame work of the bed was also of the Chinese blackwood and carried,

especially on the posts that held the roof-like canopy, finely executed

carvings with the chief motive the conventional dragon devouring the

sun. By the side stood a chest of drawers completely covered with

carvings setting forth religious pictures. Four comfortable easy chairs

completed the furniture, save for the low oriental throne which stood on

a dais at the end of the room.

“Do you see this throne?” said the Hutuktu to me. “One night in winter

several horsemen rode into the monastery and demanded that all the

Gelongs and Getuls with the Hutuktu and Kanpo at their head should

congregate in this room. Then one of the strangers mounted the throne,

where he took off his bashlyk or cap-like head covering. All of the

Lamas fell to their knees as they recognized the man who had been long

ago described in the sacred bulls of Dalai Lama, Tashi Lama and Bogdo

Khan. He was the man to whom the whole world belongs and who has

penetrated into all the mysteries of Nature. He pronounced a short

Tibetan prayer, blessed all his hearers and afterwards made predictions

for the coming half century. This was thirty years ago and in the

interim all his prophecies are being fulfilled. During his prayers

before that small shrine in the next room this door opened of its own

accord, the candles and lights before the altar lighted themselves and

the sacred braziers without coals gave forth great streams of incense

that filled the room. And then, without warning, the King of the World

and his companions disappeared from among us. Behind him remained no

trace save the folds in the silken throne coverings which smoothed

themselves out and left the throne as though no one had sat upon it.”

The Hutuktu entered the shrine, kneeled down, covering his eyes with his

hands, and began to pray. I looked at the calm, indifferent face of the

golden Buddha, over which the flickering lamps threw changing shadows,

and then turned my eyes to the side of the throne. It was wonderful and

difficult to believe but I really saw there the strong, muscular figure

of a man with a swarthy face of stern and fixed expression about the

mouth and jaws, thrown into high relief by the brightness of the eyes.

Through his transparent body draped in white raiment I saw the Tibetan

inscriptions on the back of the throne. I closed my eyes and opened

them again. No one was there but the silk throne covering seemed to be

moving.

“Nervousness,” I thought. “Abnormal and over-emphasized

impressionability growing out of the unusual surroundings and strains.”

The Hutuktu turned to me and said: “Give me your hatyk. I have the

feeling that you are troubled about those whom you love, and I want

to pray for them. And you must pray also, importune God and direct the

sight of your soul to the King of the World who was here and sanctified

this place.”

The Hutuktu placed the hatyk on the shoulder of the Buddha and,

prostrating himself on the carpet before the altar, whispered the words

of prayer. Then he raised his head and beckoned me to him with a slight

movement of his hand.

“Look at the dark space behind the statue of Buddha and he will show

your beloved to you.”

Readily obeying his deep-voiced command, I began to look into the dark

niche behind the figure of the Buddha. Soon out of the darkness began to

appear streams of smoke or transparent threads. They floated in the air,

becoming more and more dense and increasing in number, until gradually

they formed the bodies of several persons and the outlines of various

objects. I saw a room that was strange to me with my family there,

surrounded by some whom I knew and others whom I did not. I recognized

even the dress my wife wore. Every line of her dear face was clearly

visible. Gradually the vision became too dark, dissipated itself into

the streams of smoke and transparent threads and disappeared. Behind the

golden Buddha was nothing but the darkness. The Hutuktu arose, took my

hatyk from the shoulder of the Buddha and handed it to me with these

words:

“Fortune is always with you and with your family. God’s goodness will

not forsake you.”

We left the building of this unknown King of the World, where he had

prayed for all mankind and had predicted the fate of peoples and states.

I was greatly astonished to find that my companions had also seen my

vision and to hear them describe to me in minute detail the appearance

and the clothes of the persons whom I had seen in the dark niche behind

the head of Buddha.*

* In order that I might have the evidence of others on this

extraordinarily impressive vision, I asked them to make

protocols or affidavits concerning what they saw. This they

did and I now have these statements in my possession.

The Mongol officer also told me that Chultun Beyli had the day before

asked the Hutuktu to reveal to him his fate in this important juncture

of his life and in this crisis of his country but the Hutuktu only waved

his hand in an expression of fear and refused. When I asked the Hutuktu

for the reason of his refusal, suggesting to him that it might calm and

help Chultun Beyli as the vision of my beloved had strengthened me, the

Hutuktu knitted his brow and answered:

“No! The vision would not please the Prince. His fate is black.

Yesterday I thrice sought his fortune on the burned shoulder blades and

with the entrails of sheep and each time came to the same dire result,

the same dire result! . . .”

He did not really finish speaking but covered his face with his hands

in fear. He was convinced that the lot of Chultun Beyli was black as the

night.

In an hour we were behind the low hills that hid the Narabanchi Kure

from our sight.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE BREATH OF DEATH

We arrived at Uliassutai on the day of the return of the detachment

which had gone out to disarm the convoy of Wang Tsao-tsun. This

detachment had met Colonel Domojiroff, who ordered them not only to

disarm but to pillage the convoy and, unfortunately, Lieutenant Strigine

executed this illegal and unwarranted command. It was compromising and

ignominious to see Russian officers and soldiers wearing the Chinese

overcoats, boots and wrist watches which had been taken from the Chinese

officials and the convoy. Everyone had Chinese silver and gold also from

the loot. The Mongol wife of Wang Tsao-tsun and her brother returned

with the detachment and entered a complaint of having been robbed by

the Russians. The Chinese officials and their convoy, deprived of their

supplies, reached the Chinese border only after great distress

from hunger and cold. We foreigners were astounded that Lt.-Colonel

Michailoff received Strigine with military honors but we caught the

explanation of it later when we learned that Michailoff had been given

some of the Chinese silver and his wife the handsomely decorated saddle

of Fu Hsiang. Chultun Beyli demanded that all the weapons taken from the

Chinese and all the stolen property be turned over to him, as it must

later be returned to the Chinese authorities; but Michailoff refused.

Afterwards we foreigners cut off all contact with the Russian

detachment. The relations between the Russians and Mongols became very

strained. Several of the Russian officers protested against the acts of

Michailoff and Strigine and controversies became more and more serious.

At this time, one morning in April, an extraordinary group of armed

horsemen arrived at Uliassutai. They stayed at the house of the

Bolshevik Bourdukoff, who gave them, so we were told, a great quantity

of silver. This group explained that they were former officers in the

Imperial Guard. They were Colonels Poletika, N. N. Philipoff and three

of the latter’s brothers. They announced that they wanted to collect all

the White officers and soldiers then in Mongolia and China and lead them

to Urianhai to fight the Bolsheviki; but that first they wanted to wipe

out Ungern and return Mongolia to China. They called themselves the

representatives of the Central Organization of the Whites in Russia.

The society of Russian officers in Uliassutai invited them to a meeting,

examined their documents and interrogated them. Investigation proved

that all the statements of these officers about their former connections

were entirely wrong, that Poletika occupied an important position in the

war commissariat of the Bolsheviki, that one of the Philipoff brothers

was the assistant of Kameneff in his first attempt to reach England,

that the Central White Organization in Russia did not exist, that the

proposed fighting in Urianhai was but a trap for the White officers and

that this group was in close relations with the Bolshevik Bourdukoff.

A discussion at once sprang up among the officers as to what they

should do with this group, which split the detachment into two distinct

parties. Lt.-Colonel Michailoff with several officers joined themselves

to Poletika’s group just as Colonel Domojiroff arrived with his

detachment. He began to get in touch with both factions and to feel out

the politics of the situation, finally appointing Poletika to the post

of Commandant of Uliassutai and sending to Baron Ungern a full report

of the events in the town. In this document he devoted much space to me,

accusing me of standing in the way of the execution of his orders. His

officers watched me continuously. From different quarters I received

warnings to take great care. This band and its leader openly demanded

to know what right this foreigner had to interfere in the affairs of

Mongolia, one of Domojiroff’s officers directly giving me the challenge

in a meeting in the attempt to provoke a controversy. I quietly answered

him:

“And on what basis do the Russian refugees interfere, they who have

rights neither at home nor abroad?”

The officer made no verbal reply but in his eyes burned a definite

answer. My huge friend who sat beside me noticed this, strode over

toward him and, towering over him, stretched his arms and hands as

though just waking from sleep and remarked: “I’m looking for a little

boxing exercise.”

On one occasion Domojiroff’s men would have succeeded in taking me if I

had not been saved by the watchfulness of our foreign group. I had gone

to the fortress to negotiate with the Mongol Sait for the departure of

the foreigners from Uliassutai. Chultun Beyli detained me for a long

time, so that I was forced to return about nine in the evening. My horse

was walking. Half a mile from the town three men sprang up out of the

ditch and ran at me. I whipped up my horse but noticed several more men

coming out of the other ditch as though to head me off. They, however,

made for the other group and captured them and I heard the voice of a

foreigner calling me back. There I found three of Domojiroff’s officers

surrounded by the Polish soldiers and other foreigners under the

leadership of my old trusted agronome, who was occupied with tying the

hands of the officers behind their backs so strongly that the bones

cracked. Ending his work and still smoking his perpetual pipe, he

announced in a serious and important manner: “I think it best to throw

them into the river.”

Laughing at his seriousness and the fear of Domojiroff’s officers, I

asked them why they had started to attack me. They dropped their eyes

and were silent. It was an eloquent silence and we perfectly understood

what they had proposed to do. They had revolvers hidden in their

pockets.

“Fine!” I said. “All is perfectly clear. I shall release you but you

must report to your sender that he will not welcome you back the next

time. Your weapons I shall hand to the Commandant of Uliassutai.”

My friend, using his former terrifying care, began to untie them,

repeating over and over: “And I would have fed you to the fishes in the

river!” Then we all returned to the town, leaving them to go their way.

Domojiroff continued to send envoys to Baron Ungern at Urga with

requests for plenary powers and money and with reports about Michailoff,

Chultun Beyli, Poletika, Philipoff and myself. With Asiatic cunning

he was then maintaining good relations with all those for whom he was

preparing death at the hands of the severe warrior, Baron Ungern,

who was receiving only one-sided reports about all the happenings in

Uliassutai. Our whole colony was greatly agitated. The officers split

into different parties; the soldiers collected in groups and discussed

the events of the day, criticising their chiefs, and under the influence

of some of Domojiroff’s men began making such statements as:

“We have now seven Colonels, who all want to be in command and are all

quarreling among themselves. They all ought to be pegged down and given

good sound thrashings. The one who could take the greatest number of

blows ought to be chosen as our chief.”

It was an ominous joke that proved the demoralization of the Russian

detachment.

“It seems,” my friend frequently observed, “that we shall soon have the

pleasure of seeing a Council of Soldiers here in Uliassutai. God and

the Devil! One thing here is very unfortunate--there are no forests

near into which good Christian men may dive and get away from all these

cursed Soviets. It’s bare, frightfully bare, this wretched Mongolia,

with no place for us to hide.”

Really this possibility of the Soviet was approaching. On one occasion

the soldiers captured the arsenal containing the weapons surrendered

by the Chinese and carried them off to their barracks. Drunkenness,

gambling and fighting increased. We foreigners, carefully watching

events and in fear of a catastrophe, finally decided to leave

Uliassutai, that caldron of passions, controversies and denunciations.

We heard that the group of Poletika was also preparing to get out a few

days later. We foreigners separated into two parties, one traveling by

the old caravan route across the Gobi considerably to the south of Urga

to Kuku-Hoto or Kweihuacheng and Kalgan, and mine, consisting of my

friend, two Polish soldiers and myself, heading for Urga via Zain Shabi,

where Colonel Kazagrandi had asked me in a recent letter to meet him.

Thus we left the Uliassutai where we had lived through so many exciting

events.

On the sixth day after our departure there arrived in the town the

Mongol-Buriat detachment under the command of the Buriat Vandaloff and

the Russian Captain Bezrodnoff. Afterwards I met them in Zain Shabi. It

was a detachment sent out from Urga by Baron Ungern to restore order

in Uliassutai and to march on to Kobdo. On the way from Zain Shabi

Bezrodnoff came across the group of Poletika and Michailoff. He

instituted a search which disclosed suspicious documents in their

baggage and in that of Michailoff and his wife the silver and other

possessions taken from the Chinese. From this group of sixteen he sent

N. N. Philipoff to Baron Ungern, released three others and shot the

remaining twelve. Thus ended in Zain Shabi the life of one party of

Uliassutai refugees and the activities of the group of Poletika. In

Uliassutai Bezrodnoff shot Chultun Beyli for the violation of the treaty

with the Chinese, and also some Bolshevist Russian colonists; arrested

Domojiroff and sent him to Urga; and . . . restored order. The

predictions about Chultun Beyli were fulfilled.

I knew of Domojiroff’s reports regarding myself but I decided,

nevertheless, to proceed to Urga and not to swing round it, as Poletika

had started to do when he was accidentally captured by Bezrodnoff. I was

accustomed now to looking into the eyes of danger and I set out to meet

the terrible “bloody Baron.” No one can decide his own fate. I did not

think myself in the wrong and the feeling of fear had long since ceased

to occupy a place in my menage. On the way a Mongol rider who overhauled

us brought the news of the death of our acquaintances at Zain Shabi. He

spent the night with me in the yurta at the ourton and related to me the

following legend of death.

“It was a long time ago when the Mongolians ruled over China. The

Prince of Uliassutai, Beltis Van, was mad. He executed any one he wished

without trial and no one dared to pass through his town. All the other

Princes and rich Mongols surrounded Uliassutai, where Beltis raged,

cut off communication on every road and allowed none to pass in or out.

Famine developed in the town. They consumed all the oxen, sheep and

horses and finally Beltis Van determined to make a dash with his

soldiers through to the west to the land of one of his tribes, the

Olets. He and his men all perished in the fight. The Princes, following

the advice of the Hutuktu Buyantu, buried the dead on the slopes of the

mountains surrounding Uliassutai. They buried them with incantations and

exorcisings in order that Death by Violence might be kept from a further

visitation to their land. The tombs were covered with heavy stones and

the Hutuktu predicted that the bad demon of Death by Violence would

only leave the earth when the blood of a man should be spilled upon the

covering stone. Such a legend lived among us. Now it is fulfilled. The

Russians shot there three Bolsheviki and the Chinese two Mongols. The

evil spirit of Beltis Van broke loose from beneath the heavy stone and

now mows down the people with his scythe. The noble Chultun Beyli has

perished; the Russian Noyon Michailoff also has fallen; and death has

flowed out from Uliassutai all over our boundless plains. Who shall be

able to stem it now? Who shall tie the ferocious hands? An evil time has

fallen upon the Gods and the Good Spirits. The Evil Demons have made war

upon the Good Spirits. What can man now do? Only perish, only

perish. . . .”

Part III

THE STRAINING HEART OF ASIA

CHAPTER XXIX

ON THE ROAD OF GREAT CONQUERORS

The great conqueror, Jenghiz Khan, the son of sad, stern, severe

Mongolia, according to an old Mongolian legend “mounted to the top of

Karasu Togol and with his eyes of an eagle looked to the west and the

east. In the west he saw whole seas of human blood over which floated

a bloody fog that blanketed all the horizon. There he could not discern

his fate. But the gods ordered him to proceed to the west, leading with

him all his warriors and Mongolian tribes. To the east he saw wealthy

towns, shining temples, crowds of happy people, gardens and fields of

rich earth, all of which pleased the great Mongol. He said to his sons:

‘There in the west I shall be fire and sword, destroyer, avenging

Fate; in the east I shall come as the merciful, great builder, bringing

happiness to the people and to the land.’”

Thus runs the legend. I found much of truth in it. I had passed over

much of his road to the west and always identified it by the old tombs

and the impertinent monuments of stone to the merciless conqueror. I saw

also a part of the eastern road of the hero, over which he traveled to

China. Once when we were making a trip out of Uliassutai we stopped the

night in Djirgalantu. The old host of the ourton, knowing me from my

previous trip to Narabanchi, welcomed us very kindly and regaled us with

stories during our evening meal. Among other things he led us out of the

yurta and pointed out a mountain peak brightly lighted by the full moon

and recounted to us the story of one of the sons of Jenghiz, afterwards

Emperor of China, Indo-China and Mongolia, who had been attracted by the

beautiful scenery and grazing lands of Djirgalantu and had founded here

a town. This was soon left without inhabitants, for the Mongol is a

nomad who cannot live in artificial cities. The plain is his house and

the world his town. For a time this town witnessed battles between the

Chinese and the troops of Jenghiz Khan but afterwards it was forgotten.

At present there remains only a half-ruined tower, from which in the

early days the heavy rocks were hurled down upon the heads of the

enemy, and the dilapidated gate of Kublai, the grandson of Jenghiz Khan.

Against the greenish sky drenched with the rays of the moon stood out

the jagged line of the mountains and the black silhouette of the tower

with its loopholes, through which the alternate scudding clouds and

light flashed.

When our party left Uliassutai, we traveled on leisurely, making

thirty-five to fifty miles a day until we were within sixty miles of

Zain Shabi, where I took leave of the others to go south to this place

in order to keep my engagement with Colonel Kazagrandi. The sun had just

risen as my single Mongol guide and I without any pack animals began to

ascend the low, timbered ridges, from the top of which I caught the last

glimpses of my companions disappearing down the valley. I had no idea

then of the many and almost fatal dangers which I should have to pass

through during this trip by myself, which was destined to prove much

longer than I had anticipated. As we were crossing a small river with

sandy shores, my Mongol guide told me how the Mongolians came there

during the summer to wash gold, in spite of the prohibitions of the

Lamas. The manner of working the placer was very primitive but the

results testified clearly to the richness of these sands. The Mongol

lies flat on the ground, brushes the sand aside with a feather and keeps

blowing into the little excavation so formed. From time to time he wets

his finger and picks up on it a small bit of grain gold or a diminutive

nugget and drops these into a little bag hanging under his chin. In such

manner this primitive dredge wins about a quarter of an ounce or five

dollars’ worth of the yellow metal per day.

I determined to make the whole distance to Zain Shabi in a single day.

At the ourtons I hurried them through the catching and saddling of the

horses as fast as I could. At one of these stations about twenty-five

miles from the monastery the Mongols gave me a wild horse, a big, strong

white stallion. Just as I was about to mount him and had already touched

my foot to the stirrup, he jumped and kicked me right on the leg which

had been wounded in the Ma-chu fight. The leg soon began to swell and

ache. At sunset I made out the first Russian and Chinese buildings

and later the monastery at Zain. We dropped into the valley of a small

stream which flowed along a mountain on whose peak were set white rocks

forming the words of a Tibetan prayer. At the bottom of this mountain

was a cemetery for the Lamas, that is, piles of bones and a pack

of dogs. At last the monastery lay right below us, a common square

surrounded with wooden fences. In the middle rose a large temple quite

different from all those of western Mongolia, not in the Chinese but in

the Tibetan style of architecture, a white building with perpendicular

walls and regular rows of windows in black frames, with a roof of black

tiles and with a most unusual damp course laid between the stone walls

and the roof timbers and made of bundles of twigs from a Tibetan tree

which never rots. Another small quadrangle lay a little to the east and

contained Russian buildings connected with the monastery by telephone.

“That is the house of the Living God of Zain,” the Mongol explained,

pointing to this smaller quadrangle. “He likes Russian customs and

manners.”

To the north on a conical-shaped hill rose a tower that recalled the

Babylonian zikkurat. It was the temple where the ancient books and

manuscripts were kept and the broken ornaments and objects used in

the religious ceremonies together with the robes of deceased Hutuktus

preserved. A sheer cliff rose behind this museum, which it was

impossible for one to climb. On the face of this were carved images of

the Lamaite gods, scattered about without any special order. They were

from one to two and a half metres high. At night the monks lighted

lamps before them, so that one could see these images of the gods and

goddesses from far away.

We entered the trading settlement. The streets were deserted and from

the windows only women and children looked out. I stopped with a Russian

firm whose other branches I had known throughout the country. Much to my

astonishment they welcomed me as an acquaintance. It appeared that

the Hutuktu of Narabanchi had sent word to all the monasteries that,

whenever I should come, they must all render me aid, inasmuch as I

had saved the Narabanchi Monastery and, by the clear signs of the

divinations, I was an incarnate Buddha beloved of the Gods. This letter

of this kindly disposed Hutuktu helped me very much--perhaps I should

even say more, that it saved me from death. The hospitality of my hosts

proved of great and much needed assistance to me because my injured leg

had swelled and was aching severely. When I took off my boot, I found

my foot all covered with blood and my old wound re-opened by the blow. A

felcher was called to assist me with treatment and bandaging, so that I

was able to walk again three days later.

I did not find Colonel Kazagrandi at Zain Shabi. After destroying the

Chinese gamins who had killed the local Commandant, he had returned via

Van Kure. The new Commandment handed me the letter of Kazagrandi, who

very cordially asked me to visit him after I had rested in Zain. A

Mongolian document was enclosed in the letter giving me the right to

receive horses and carts from herd to herd by means of the “urga,” which

I shall later describe and which opened for me an entirely new vista of

Mongolian life and country that I should otherwise never have seen. The

making of this journey of over two hundred miles was a very disagreeable

task for me; but evidently Kazagrandi, whom I had never met, had serious

reasons for wishing this meeting.

At one o’clock the day after my arrival I was visited by the local

“Very God,” Gheghen Pandita Hutuktu. A more strange and extraordinary

appearance of a god I could not imagine. He was a short, thin young man

of twenty or twenty-two years with quick, nervous movements and with an

expressive face lighted and dominated, like the countenances of all the

Mongol gods, by large, frightened eyes. He was dressed in a blue silk

Russian uniform with yellow epaulets with the sacred sign of Pandita

Hutuktu, in blue silk trousers and high boots, all surmounted by a white

Astrakhan cap with a yellow pointed top. At his girdle a revolver and

sword were slung. I did not know quite what to think of this disguised

god. He took a cup of tea from the host and began to talk with a mixture

of Mongolian and Russian.

“Not far from my Kure is located the ancient monastery of Erdeni Dzu,

erected on the site of the ruins of Karakorum, the ancient capital

of Jenghiz Khan and afterwards frequently visited by Kublai Kahn for

sanctuary and rest after his labors as Emperor of China, India, Persia,

Afghanistan, Mongolia and half of Europe. Now only ruins and tombs

remain to mark this former ‘Garden of Beatific Days.’ The pious monks of

Baroun Kure found in the underground chambers of the ruins manuscripts

that were much older than Erdeni Dzu itself. In these my Maramba

Meetchik-Atak found the prediction that the Hutuktu of Zain who should

carry the title of ‘Pandita,’ should be but twenty-one years of age, be

born in the heart of the lands of Jenghiz Khan and have on his chest

the natural sign of the swastika--such Hutuktu would be honored by the

people in the days of a great war and trouble, would begin the fight

with the servants of Red evil and would conquer them and bring order

into the universe, celebrating this happy day in the city with white

temples and with the songs of ten thousand bells. It is I, Pandita

Hutuktu! The signs and symbols have met in me. I shall destroy the

Bolsheviki, the bad ‘servants of the Red evil,’ and in Moscow I shall

rest from my glorious and great work. Therefore I have asked Colonel

Kazagrandi to enlist me in the troops of Baron Ungern and give me the

chance to fight. The Lamas seek to prevent me from going but who is the

god here?”

He very sternly stamped his foot, while the Lamas and guard who

accompanied him reverently bowed their heads.

As he left he presented me with a hatyk and, rummaging through my saddle

bags, I found a single article that might be considered worthy as a

gift for a Hutuktu, a small bottle of osmiridium, this rare, natural

concomitant of platinum.

“This is the most stable and hardest of metals,” I said. “Let it be the

sign of your glory and strength, Hutuktu!”

The Pandita thanked me and invited me to visit him. When I had recovered

a little, I went to his house, which was arranged in European style:

electric lights, push bells and telephone. He feasted me with wine and

sweets and introduced me to two very interesting personages, one an old

Tibetan surgeon with a face deeply pitted by smallpox, a heavy thick

nose and crossed eyes. He was a peculiar surgeon, consecrated in Tibet.

His duties consisted in treating and curing Hutuktus when they were

ill and . . . in poisoning them when they became too independent or

extravagant or when their policies were not in accord with the wishes

of the Council of Lamas of the Living Buddha or the Dalai Lama. By

now Pandita Hutuktu probably rests in eternal peace on the top of some

sacred mountain, sent thither by the solicitude of his extraordinary

court physician. The martial spirit of Pandita Hutuktu was very

unwelcome to the Council of Lamas, who protested against the

adventuresomeness of this “Living God.”

Pandita liked wine and cards. One day when he was in the company of

Russians and dressed in a European suit, some Lamas came running to

announce that divine service had begun and that the “Living God” must

take his place on the altar to be prayed to but he had gone out from his

abode and was playing cards! Without any confusion Pandita drew his red

mantle of the Hutuktu over his European coat and long grey trousers and

allowed the shocked Lamas to carry their “God” away in his palanquin.

Besides the surgeon-poisoner I met at the Hutuktu’s a lad of thirteen

years, whose youthfulness, red robe and cropped hair led me to suppose

he was a Bandi or student servant in the home of the Hutuktu; but it

turned out otherwise. This boy was the first Hubilgan, also an incarnate

Buddha, an artful teller of fortunes and the successor of Pandita

Hutuktu. He was drunk all the time and a great card player, always

making side-splitting jokes that greatly offended the Lamas.

That same evening I made the acquaintance of the second Hubilgan

who called on me, the real administrator of Zain Shabi, which is

an independent dominion subject directly to the Living Buddha. This

Hubilgan was a serious and ascetic man of thirty-two, well educated and

deeply learned in Mongol lore. He knew Russian and read much in that

language, being interested chiefly in the life and stories of other

peoples. He had a high respect for the creative genius of the American

people and said to me:

“When you go to America, ask the Americans to come to us and lead us out

from the darkness that surrounds us. The Chinese and Russians will lead

us to destruction and only the Americans can save us.”

It is a deep satisfaction for me to carry out the request of this

influential Mongol, Hubilgan, and to urge his appeal to the American

people. Will you not save this honest, uncorrupted but dark, deceived

and oppressed people? They should not be allowed to perish, for within

their souls they carry a great store of strong moral forces. Make of

them a cultured people, believing in the verity of humankind; teach them

to use the wealth of their land; and the ancient people of Jenghiz Khan

will ever be your faithful friends.

When I had sufficiently recovered, the Hutuktu invited me to travel with

him to Erdeni Dzu, to which I willingly agreed. On the following morning

a light and comfortable carriage was brought for me. Our trip lasted

five days, during which we visited Erdeni Dzu, Karakorum, Hoto-Zaidam

and Hara-Balgasun. All these are the ruins of monasteries and cities

erected by Jenghiz Khan and his successors, Ugadai Khan and Kublai

in the thirteenth century. Now only the remnants of walls and towers

remain, some large tombs and whole books of legends and stories.

“Look at these tombs!” said the Hutuktu to me. “Here the son of Khan

Uyuk was buried. This young prince was bribed by the Chinese to kill his

father but was frustrated in his attempt by his own sister, who killed

him in her watchful care of her old father, the Emperor and Khan. There

is the tomb of Tsinilla, the beloved spouse of Khan Mangu. She left the

capital of China to go to Khara Bolgasun, where she fell in love with

the brave shepherd Damcharen, who overtook the wind on his steed and

who captured wild yaks and horses with his bare hands. The enraged Khan

ordered his unfaithful wife strangled but afterwards buried her with

imperial honors and frequently came to her tomb to weep for his lost

love.”

“And what happened to Damcharen?” I inquired.

The Hutuktu himself did not know; but his old servant, the real archive

of legends, answered:

“With the aid of ferocious Chahar brigands he fought with China for a

long time. It is, however, unknown how he died.”

Among the ruins the monks pray at certain fixed times and they also

search for sacred books and objects concealed or buried in the debris.

Recently they found here two Chinese rifles and two gold rings and big

bundles of old manuscripts tied with leather thongs.

“Why did this region attract the powerful emperors and Khans who ruled

from the Pacific to the Adriatic?” I asked myself. Certainly not these

mountains and valleys covered with larch and birch, not these vast

sands, receding lakes and barren rocks. It seems that I found the

answer.

The great emperors, remembering the vision of Jenghiz Khan, sought here

new revelations and predictions of his miraculous, majestic destiny,

surrounded by the divine honors, obeisance and hate. Where could they

come into touch with the gods, the good and bad spirits? Only there

where they abode. All the district of Zain with these ancient ruins is

just such a place.

“On this mountain only such men can ascend as are born of the direct

line of Jenghiz Khan,” the Pandita explained to me. “Half way up the

ordinary man suffocates and dies, if he ventures to go further. Recently

Mongolian hunters chased a pack of wolves up this mountain and, when

they came to this part of the mountainside, they all perished. There on

the slopes of the mountain lie the bones of eagles, big horned sheep and

the kabarga antelope, light and swift as the wind. There dwells the bad

demon who possesses the book of human destinies.”

“This is the answer,” I thought.

In the Western Caucasus I once saw a mountain between Soukhoum Kale and

Tuopsei where wolves, eagles and wild goats also perish, and where men

would likewise perish if they did not go on horseback through this zone.

There the earth breathes out carbonic acid gas through holes in the

mountainside, killing all animal life. The gas clings to the earth in a

layer about half a metre thick. Men on horseback pass above this and the

horses always hold their heads way up and snuff and whinny in fear until

they cross the dangerous zone. Here on the top of this mountain

where the bad demon peruses the book of human destinies is the same

phenomenon, and I realized the sacred fear of the Mongols as well as the

stern attraction of this place for the tall, almost gigantic descendants

of Jenghiz Khan. Their heads tower above the layers of poisonous gas,

so that they can reach the top of this mysterious and terrible mountain.

Also it is possible to explain this phenomenon geologically, because

here in this region is the southern edge of the coal deposits which are

the source of carbonic acid and swamp gases.

Not far from the ruins in the lands of Hun Doptchin Djamtso there is

a small lake which sometimes burns with a red flame, terrifying the

Mongols and herds of horses. Naturally this lake is rich with legends.

Here a meteor formerly fell and sank far into the earth. In the hole

this lake appeared. Now, it seems, the inhabitants of the subterranean

passages, semi-man and semi-demon, are laboring to extract this “stone

of the sky” from its deep bed and it is setting the water on fire as it

rises and falls back in spite of their every effort. I did not see the

lake myself but a Russian colonist told me that it may be petroleum on

the lake that is fired either from the campfires of the shepherds or by

the blazing rays of the sun.

At any rate all this makes it very easy to understand the attractions

for the great Mongol potentates. The strongest impression was produced

upon me by Karakorum, the place where the cruel and wise Jenghiz Khan

lived and laid his gigantic plans for overrunning all the west with

blood and for covering the east with a glory never before seen. Two

Karakorums were erected by Jenghiz Khan, one here near Tatsa Gol on the

Caravan Road and the other in Pamir, where the sad warriors buried the

greatest of human conquerors in the mausoleum built by five hundred

captives who were sacrificed to the spirit of the deceased when their

work was done.

The warlike Pandita Hutuktu prayed on the ruins where the shades of

these potentates who had ruled half the world wandered, and his soul

longed for the chimerical exploits and for the glory of Jenghiz and

Tamerlane.

On the return journey we were invited not far from Zain to visit a very

rich Mongol by the way. He had already prepared the yurtas suitable for

Princes, ornamented with rich carpets and silk draperies. The Hutuktu

accepted. We arranged ourselves on the soft pillows in the yurtas as the

Hutuktu blessed the Mongol, touching his head with his holy hand, and

received the hatyks. The host then had a whole sheep brought in to us,

boiled in a huge vessel. The Hutuktu carved off one hind leg and offered

it to me, while he reserved the other for himself. After this he gave a

large piece of meat to the smallest son of the host, which was the sign

that Pandita Hutuktu invited all to begin the feast. In a trice the

sheep was entirely carved or torn up and in the hands of the banqueters.

When the Hutuktu had thrown down by the brazier the white bones without

a trace of meat left on them, the host on his knees withdrew from the

fire a piece of sheepskin and ceremoniously offered it on both his hands

to the Hutuktu. Pandita began to clean off the wool and ashes with his

knife and, cutting it into thin strips, fell to eating this really tasty

course. It is the covering from just above the breast bone and is called

in Mongolian tarach or “arrow.” When a sheep is skinned, this small

section is cut out and placed on the hot coals, where it is broiled very

slowly. Thus prepared it is considered the most dainty bit of the

whole animal and is always presented to the guest of honor. It is

not permissible to divide it, such is the strength of the custom and

ceremony.

After dinner our host proposed a hunt for bighorns, a large herd of

which was known to graze in the mountains within less than a mile from

the yurtas. Horses with rich saddles and bridles were led up. All the

elaborate harness of the Hutuktu’s mount was ornamented with red and

yellow bits of cloth as a mark of his rank. About fifty Mongol riders

galloped behind us. When we left our horses, we were placed behind

the rocks roughly three hundred paces apart and the Mongols began the

encircling movement around the mountain. After about half an hour I

noticed way up among the rocks something flash and soon made out a fine

bighorn jumping with tremendous springs from rock to rock, and behind

him a herd of some twenty odd head leaping like lightning over the

ground. I was vexed beyond words when it appeared that the Mongols had

made a mess of it and pushed the herd out to the side before having

completed their circle. But happily I was mistaken. Behind a rock right

ahead of the herd a Mongol sprang up and waved his hands. Only the big

leader was not frightened and kept right on past the unarmed Mongol

while all the rest of the herd swung suddenly round and rushed right

down upon me. I opened fire and dropped two of them. The Hutuktu also

brought down one as well as a musk antelope that came unexpectedly from

behind a rock hard by. The largest pair of horns weighed about thirty

pounds, but they were from a young sheep.

The day following our return to Zain Shabi, as I was feeling quite

recovered, I decided to go on to Van Kure. At my leave-taking from

the Hutuktu I received a large hatyk from him together with warmest

expressions of thanks for the present I had given him on the first day

of our acquaintance.

“It is a fine medicine!” he exclaimed. “After our trip I felt quite

exhausted but I took your medicine and am now quite rejuvenated. Many,

many thanks!”

The poor chap had swallowed my osmiridium. To be sure it could not

harm him; but to have helped him was wonderful. Perhaps doctors in the

Occident may wish to try this new, harmless and very cheap remedy--only

eight pounds of it in the whole world--and I merely ask that they leave

me the patent rights for it for Mongolia, Barga, Sinkiang, Koko Nor and

all the other lands of Central Asia.

An old Russian colonist went as guide for me. They gave me a big but

light and comfortable cart hitched and drawn in a marvelous way. A

straight pole four metres long was fastened athwart the front of the

shafts. On either side two riders took this pole across their saddle

pommels and galloped away with me across the plains. Behind us galloped

four other riders with four extra horses.

CHAPTER XXX

ARRESTED!

About twelve miles from Zain we saw from a ridge a snakelike line of

riders crossing the valley, which detachment we met half an hour later

on the shore of a deep, swampy stream. The group consisted of Mongols,

Buriats and Tibetans armed with Russian rifles. At the head of the

column were two men, one of whom in a huge black Astrakhan and black

felt cape with red Caucasian cowl on his shoulders blocked my road and,

in a coarse, harsh voice, demanded of me: “Who are you, where are you

from and where are you going?”

I gave also a laconic answer. They then said that they were a detachment

of troops from Baron Ungern under the command of Captain Vandaloff. “I

am Captain Bezrodnoff, military judge.”

Suddenly he laughed loudly. His insolent, stupid face did not please me

and, bowing to the officers, I ordered my riders to move.

“Oh no!” he remonstrated, as he blocked the road again. “I cannot allow

you to go farther. I want to have a long and serious conversation with

you and you will have to come back to Zain for it.”

I protested and called attention to the letter of Colonel Kazagrandi,

only to hear Bezrodnoff answer with coldness:

“This letter is a matter of Colonel Kazagrandi’s and to bring you back

to Zain and talk with you is my affair. Now give me your weapon.”

But I could not yield to this demand, even though death were threatened.

“Listen,” I said. “Tell me frankly. Is yours really a detachment

fighting against the Boisheviki or is it a Red contingent?”

“No, I assure you!” replied the Buriat officer Vandaloff, approaching

me. “We have already been fighting the Bolsheviki for three years.”

“Then I cannot hand you my weapon,” I calmly replied. “I brought it from

Soviet Siberia, have had many fights with this faithful weapon and now

I am to be disarmed by White officers! It is an offence that I cannot

allow.”

With these words I threw my rifle and my Mauser into the stream. The

officers were confused. Bezrodnoff turned red with anger.

“I freed you and myself from humiliation,” I explained.

Bezrodnoff in silence turned his horse, the whole detachment of three

hundred men passed immediately before me and only the last two riders

stopped, ordered my Mongols to turn my cart round and then fell in

behind my little group. So I was arrested! One of the horsemen behind me

was a Russian and he told me that Bezrodnoff carried with him many death

decrees. I was sure that mine was among them.

Stupid, very stupid! What was the use of fighting one’s way through Red

detachments, of being frozen and hungry, of almost perishing in Tibet

only to die from a bullet of one of Bezrodnoff’s Mongols? For such a

pleasure it was not worth while to travel so long and so far! In every

Siberian “Cheka” I could have had this end so joyfully accorded me.

When we arrived at Zain Shabi, my luggage was examined and Bezrodnoff

began to question me in minutest detail about the events in Uliassutai.

We talked about three hours, during which I tried to defend all the

officers of Uliassutai, maintaining that one must not trust only the

reports of Domojiroff. When our conversation was finished, the Captain

stood up and offered his apologies for detaining me in my journey.

Afterwards he presented me a fine Mauser with silver mountings on the

handle and said:

“Your pride greatly pleased me. I beg you to receive this weapon as a

memento of me.”

The following morning I set out anew from Zain Shabi, having in my

pocket the laissez-passer of Bezrodnoff for his outposts.

CHAPTER XXXI

TRAVELING BY “URGA”

Once more we traveled along the now known places, the mountain from

which I espied the detachment of Bezrodnoff, the stream into which I had

thrown my weapon, and soon all this lay behind us. At the first ourton

we were disappointed because we did not find horses there. In the yurtas

were only the host with two of his sons. I showed him my document and he

exclaimed:

“Noyon has the right of ‘urga.’ Horses will be brought very soon.”

He jumped into his saddle, took two of my Mongols with him, providing

them and himself with long thin poles, four or five metres in length,

and fitted at the end with a loop of rope, and galloped away. My cart

moved behind them. We left the road, crossed the plain for an hour and

came upon a big herd of horses grazing there. The Mongol began to catch

a quota of them for us with his pole and noose or urga, when out of the

mountains nearby came galloping the owners of the herds. When the

old Mongol showed my papers to them, they submissively acquiesced and

substituted four of their men for those who had come with me thus far.

In this manner the Mongols travel, not along the ourton or station road

but directly from one herd to another, where the fresh horses are caught

and saddled and the new owners substituted for those of the last herd.

All the Mongols so effected by the right of urga try to finish their

task as rapidly as possible and gallop like mad for the nearest herd

in your general direction of travel to turn over their task to their

neighbor. Any traveler having this right of urga can catch horses

himself and, if there are no owners, can force the former ones to carry

on and leave the animals in the next herd he requisitions. But this

happens very rarely because the Mongol never likes to seek out his

animals in another’s herd, as it always gives so many chances for

controversy.

It was from this custom, according to one explanation, that the town

of Urga took its name among outsiders. By the Mongols themselves it is

always referred to as Ta Kure, “The Great Monastery.” The reason the

Buriats and Russians, who were the first to trade into this region,

called it Urga was because it was the principal destination of all the

trading expeditions which crossed the plains by this old method or right

of travel. A second explanation is that the town lies in a “loop” whose

sides are formed by three mountain ridges, along one of which the River

Tola runs like the pole or stick of the familiar urga of the plains.

Thanks to this unique ticket of urga I crossed quite untraveled

sections of Mongolia for about two hundred miles. It gave me the welcome

opportunity to observe the fauna of this part of the country. I saw many

huge herds of Mongolian antelopes running from five to six thousand,

many groups of bighorns, wapiti and kabarga antelopes. Sometimes small

herds of wild horses and wild asses flashed as a vision on the horizon.

In one place I observed a big colony of marmots. All over an area of

several square miles their mounds were scattered with the holes leading

down to their runways below, the dwellings of the marmot. In and out

among these mounds the greyish-yellow or brown animals ran in all sizes

up to half that of an average dog. They ran heavily and the skin on

their fat bodies moved as though it were too big for them. The marmots

are splendid prospectors, always digging deep ditches, throwing out on

the surface all the stones. In many places I saw mounds the marmots had

made from copper ore and farther north some from minerals containing

wolfram and vanadium. Whenever the marmot is at the entrance of his

hole, he sits up straight on his hind legs and looks like a bit of wood,

a small stump or a stone. As soon as he spies a rider in the distance,

he watches him with great curiosity and begins whistling sharply. This

curiosity of the marmots is taken advantage of by the hunters, who sneak

up to their holes flourishing streamers of cloth on the tips of long

poles. The whole attention of the small animals is concentrated on this

small flag and only the bullet that takes his life explains to him the

reason for this previously unknown object.

I saw a very exciting picture as I passed through a marmot colony near

the Orkhon River. There were thousands of holes here so that my Mongols

had to use all their skill to keep the horses from breaking their legs

in them. I noticed an eagle circling high overhead. All of a sudden he

dropped like a stone to the top of a mound, where he sat motionless as

a rock. The marmot in a few minutes ran out of his hole to a neighbor’s

doorway. The eagle calmly jumped down from the top and with one wing

closed the entrance to the hole. The rodent heard the noise, turned back

and rushed to the attack, trying to break through to his hole where he

had evidently left his family. The struggle began. The eagle fought with

one free wing, one leg and his beak but did not withdraw the bar to the

entrance. The marmot jumped at the rapacious bird with great boldness

but soon fell from a blow on the head. Only then the eagle withdrew his

wing, approached the marmot, finished him off and with difficulty

lifted him in his talons to carry him away to the mountains for a tasty

luncheon.

In the more barren places with only occasional spears of grass in the

plain another species of rodent lives, called imouran, about the size of

a squirrel. They have a coat the same color as the prairie and, running

about it like snakes, they collect the seeds that are blown across by

the wind and carry them down into their diminutive homes. The imouran

has a truly faithful friend, the yellow lark of the prairie with a brown

back and head. When he sees the imouran running across the plain, he

settles on his back, flaps his wings in balance and rides well this

swiftly galloping mount, who gaily flourishes his long shaggy tail. The

lark during his ride skilfully and quickly catches the parasites living

on the body of his friend, giving evidence of his enjoyment of his work

with a short agreeable song. The Mongols call the imouran “the steed of

the gay lark.” The lark warns the imouran of the approach of eagles and

hawks with three sharp whistles the moment he sees the aerial brigand

and takes refuge himself behind a stone or in a small ditch. After this

signal no imouran will stick his head out of his hole until the danger

is past. Thus the gay lark and his steed live in kindly neighborliness.

In other parts of Mongolia where there was very rich grass I saw another

type of rodent, which I had previously come across in Urianhai. It is

a gigantic black prairie rat with a short tail and lives in colonies

of from one to two hundred. He is interesting and unique as the most

skilful farmer among the animals in his preparation of his winter supply

of fodder. During the weeks when the grass is most succulent he actually

mows it down with swift jerky swings of his head, cutting about twenty

or thirty stalks with his sharp long front teeth. Then he allows his

grass to cure and later puts up his prepared hay in a most scientific

manner. First he makes a mound about a foot high. Through this he pushes

down into the ground four slanting stakes, converging toward the middle

of the pile, and binds them close over the surface of the hay with the

longest strands of grass, leaving the ends protruding enough for him

to add another foot to the height of the pile, when he again binds the

surface with more long strands--all this to keep his winter supply of

food from blowing away over the prairie. This stock he always locates

right at the door of his den to avoid long winter hauls. The horses and

camels are very fond of this small farmer’s hay, because it is always

made from the most nutritious grass. The haycocks are so strongly made

that one can hardly kick them to pieces.

Almost everywhere in Mongolia I met either single pairs or whole flocks

of the greyish-yellow prairie partridges, salga or “partridge swallow,”

so called because they have long sharp tails resembling those of

swallows and because their flight also is a close copy of that of the

swallow. These birds are very tame or fearless, allowing men to come

within ten or fifteen paces of them; but, when they do break, they go

high and fly long distances without lighting, whistling all the time

quite like swallows. Their general markings are light grey and yellow,

though the males have pretty chocolate spots on the backs and wings,

while their legs and feet are heavily feathered.

My opportunity to make these observations came from traveling

through unfrequented regions by the urga, which, however, had its

counterbalancing disadvantages. The Mongols carried me directly and

swiftly toward my destination, receiving with great satisfaction the

presents of Chinese dollars which I gave them. But after having made

about five thousand miles on my Cossack saddle that now lay behind me

on the cart all covered with dust like common merchandise, I rebelled

against being wracked and torn by the rough riding of the cart as it was

swung heedlessly over stones, hillocks and ditches by the wild horses

with their equally wild riders, bounding and cracking and holding

together only through its tenacity of purpose in demonstrating the

cosiness and attractiveness of a good Mongol equipage! All my bones

began to ache. Finally I groaned at every lunge and at last I suffered

a very sharp attack of ischias or sciatica in my wounded leg. At night

I could neither sleep, lie down nor sit with comfort and spent the whole

night pacing up and down the plain, listening to the loud snoring of

the inhabitants of the yurta. At times I had to fight the two huge black

dogs which attacked me. The following day I could endure the wracking

only until noon and was then forced to give up and lie down. The pain

was unbearable. I could not move my leg nor my back and finally fell

into a high fever. We were forced to stop and rest. I swallowed all

my stock of aspirin and quinine but without relief. Before me was a

sleepless night about which I could not think without weakening fear. We

had stopped in the yurta for guests by the side of a small monastery. My

Mongols invited the Lama doctor to visit me, who gave me two very bitter

powders and assured me I should be able to continue in the morning. I

soon felt a stimulated palpitation of the heart, after which the pain

became even sharper. Again I spent the night without any sleep but when

the sun arose the pain ceased instantly and, after an hour, I ordered

them to saddle me a horse, as I was afraid to continue further in the

cart.

While the Mongols were catching the horses, there came to my tent

Colonel N. N. Philipoff, who told me that he denied all the accusations

that he and his brother and Poletika were Bolsheviki and that Bezrodnoff

allowed him to go to Van Kure to meet Baron Ungern, who was expected

there. Only Philipoff did not know that his Mongol guide was armed with

a bomb and that another Mongol had been sent on ahead with a letter to

Baron Ungern. He did not know that Poletika and his brothers were shot

at the same time in Zain Shabi. Philipoff was in a hurry and wanted to

reach Van Kure that day. I left an hour after him.

CHAPTER XXXII

AN OLD FORTUNE TELLER

From this point we began traveling along the ourton road. In this region

the Mongols had very poor and exhausted horses, because they were forced

continuously to supply mounts to the numerous envoys of Daichin Van and

of Colonel Kazagrandi. We were compelled to spend the night at the last

ourton before Van Kure, where a stout old Mongol and his son kept the

station. After our supper he took the shoulder-blade of the sheep, which

had been carefully scraped clean of all the flesh, and, looking at me,

placed this bone in the coals with some incantations and said:

“I want to tell your fortune. All my predictions come true.”

When the bone had been blackened he drew it out, blew off the ashes and

began to scrutinize the surface very closely and to look through it into

the fire. He continued his examination for a long time and then, with

fear in his face, placed the bone back in the coals.

“What did you see?” I asked, laughing.

“Be silent!” he whispered. “I made out horrible signs.”

He again took out the bone and began examining it all over, all the time

whispering prayers and making strange movements. In a very solemn quiet

voice he began his predictions.

“Death in the form of a tall white man with red hair will stand behind

you and will watch you long and close. You will feel it and wait but

Death will withdraw. . . . Another white man will become your friend.

. . . Before the fourth day you will lose your acquaintances. They will

die by a long knife. I already see them being eaten by the dogs. Beware

of the man with a head like a saddle. He will strive for your death.”

For a long time after the fortune had been told we sat smoking and

drinking tea but still the old fellow looked at me only with fear.

Through my brain flashed the thought that thus must his companions in

prison look at one who is condemned to death.

The next morning we left the fortune teller before the sun was up, and,

when we had made about fifteen miles, hove in sight of Van Kure. I found

Colonel Kazagrandi at his headquarters. He was a man of good family,

an experienced engineer and a splendid officer, who had distinguished

himself in the war at the defence of the island of Moon in the Baltic

and afterwards in the fight with the Bolsheviki on the Volga. Colonel

Kazagrandi offered me a bath in a real tub, which had its habitat in

the house of the president of the local Chamber of Commerce. As I was in

this house, a tall young captain entered. He had long curly red hair and

an unusually white face, though heavy and stolid, with large, steel-cold

eyes and with beautiful, tender, almost girlish lips. But in his eyes

there was such cold cruelty that it was quite unpleasant to look at his

otherwise fine face. When he left the room, our host told me that he was

Captain Veseloffsky, the adjutant of General Rezukhin, who was fighting

against the Bolsheviki in the north of Mongolia. They had just that day

arrived for a conference with Baron Ungern.

After luncheon Colonel Kazagrandi invited me to his yurta and began

discussing events in western Mongolia, where the situation had become

very tense.

“Do you know Dr. Gay?” Kazagrandi asked me. “You know he helped me

to form my detachment but Urga accuses him of being the agent of the

Soviets.”

I made all the defences I could for Gay. He had helped me and had been

exonerated by Kolchak.

“Yes, yes, and I justified Gay in such a manner,” said the Colonel, “but

Rezukhin, who has just arrived today, has brought letters of Gay’s to

the Bolsheviki which were seized in transit. By order of Baron Ungern,

Gay and his family have today been sent to the headquarters of Rezukhin

and I fear that they will not reach this destination.”

“Why?” I asked.

“They will be executed on the road!” answered Colonel Kazagrandi.

“What are we to do?” I responded. “Gay cannot be a Bolshevik, because

he is too well educated and too clever for it.”

“I don’t know; I don’t know!” murmured the Colonel with a despondent

gesture. “Try to speak with Rezukhin.”

I decided to proceed at once to Rezukhin but just then Colonel Philipoff

entered and began talking about the errors being made in the training of

the soldiers. When I had donned my coat, another man came in. He was a

small sized officer with an old green Cossack cap with a visor, a torn

grey Mongol overcoat and with his right hand in a black sling tied

around his neck. It was General Rezukhin, to whom I was at once

introduced. During the conversation the General very politely and very

skilfully inquired about the lives of Philipoff and myself during the

last three years, joking and laughing with discretion and modesty. When

he soon took his leave, I availed myself of the chance and went out with

him.

He listened very attentively and politely to me and afterwards, in his

quiet voice, said:

“Dr. Gay is the agent of the Soviets, disguised as a White in order

the better to see, hear and know everything. We are surrounded by our

enemies. The Russian people are demoralized and will undertake any

treachery for money. Such is Gay. Anyway, what is the use of discussing

him further? He and his family are no longer alive. Today my men cut

them to pieces five kilometres from here.”

In consternation and fear I looked at the face of this small, dapper man

with such soft voice and courteous manners. In his eyes I read such hate

and tenacity that I understood at once the trembling respect of all the

officers whom I had seen in his presence. Afterwards in Urga I learned

more of this General Rezukhin distinguished by his absolute bravery and

boundless cruelty. He was the watchdog of Baron Ungern, ready to throw

himself into the fire and to spring at the throat of anyone his master

might indicate.

Only four days then had elapsed before “my acquaintances” died “by a

long knife,” so that one part of the prediction had been thus fulfilled.

And now I have to await Death’s threat to me. The delay was not long.

Only two days later the Chief of the Asiatic Division of Cavalry

arrived--Baron Ungern von Sternberg.

CHAPTER XXXIII

“DEATH FROM THE WHITE MAN WILL STAND BEHIND YOU”

“The terrible general, the Baron,” arrived quite unexpectedly, unnoticed

by the outposts of Colonel Kazagrandi. After a talk with Kazagrandi the

Baron invited Colonel N. N. Philipoff and me into his presence. Colonel

Kazagrandi brought the word to me. I wanted to go at once but was

detained about half an hour by the Colonel, who then sped me with the

words:

“Now God help you! Go!”

It was a strange parting message, not reassuring and quite enigmatical.

I took my Mauser and also hid in the cuff of my coat my cyanide of

potassium. The Baron was quartered in the yurta of the military doctor.

When I entered the court, Captain Veseloffsky came up to me. He had a

Cossack sword and a revolver without its holster beneath his girdle. He

went into the yurta to report my arrival.

“Come in,” he said, as he emerged from the tent.

At the entrance my eyes were struck with the sight of a pool of blood

that had not yet had time to drain down into the ground--an ominous

greeting that seemed to carry the very voice of one just gone before me.

I knocked.

“Come in!” was the answer in a high tenor. As I passed the threshold,

a figure in a red silk Mongolian coat rushed at me with the spring of a

tiger, grabbed and shook my hand as though in flight across my path and

then fell prone on the bed at the side of the tent.

“Tell me who you are! Hereabouts are many spies and agitators,” he cried

out in an hysterical voice, as he fixed his eyes upon me. In one

moment I perceived his appearance and psychology. A small head on wide

shoulders; blonde hair in disorder; a reddish bristling moustache; a

skinny, exhausted face, like those on the old Byzantine ikons. Then

everything else faded from view save a big, protruding forehead

overhanging steely sharp eyes. These eyes were fixed upon me like those

of an animal from a cave. My observations lasted for but a flash but I

understood that before me was a very dangerous man ready for an instant

spring into irrevocable action. Though the danger was evident, I felt

the deepest offence.

“Sit down,” he snapped out in a hissing voice, as he pointed to a chair

and impatiently pulled at his moustache. I felt my anger rising through

my whole body and I said to him without taking the chair:

“You have allowed yourself to offend me, Baron. My name is well enough

known so that you cannot thus indulge yourself in such epithets. You can

do with me as you wish, because force is on your side, but you cannot

compel me to speak with one who gives me offence.”

At these words of mine he swung his feet down off the bed and with

evident astonishment began to survey me, holding his breath and pulling

still at his moustache. Retaining my exterior calmness, I began to

glance indifferently around the yurta, and only then I noticed General

Rezukhin. I bowed to him and received his silent acknowledgment. After

that I swung my glance back to the Baron, who sat with bowed head and

closed eyes, from time to time rubbing his brow and mumbling to himself.

Suddenly he stood up and sharply said, looking past and over me:

“Go out! There is no need of more. . . .”

I swung round and saw Captain Veseloffsky with his white, cold face. I

had not heard him enter. He did a formal “about face” and passed out of

the door.

“‘Death from the white man’ has stood behind me,” I thought; “but has it

quite left me?”

The Baron stood thinking for some time and then began to speak in

jumbled, unfinished phrases.

“I ask your pardon. . . . You must understand there are so many

traitors! Honest men have disappeared. I cannot trust anybody. All

names are false and assumed; documents are counterfeited. Eyes and

words deceive. . . . All is demoralized, insulted by Bolshevism. I

just ordered Colonel Philipoff cut down, he who called himself the

representative of the Russian White Organization. In the lining of his

garments were found two secret Bolshevik codes. . . . When my officer

flourished his sword over him, he exclaimed: ‘Why do you kill me,

Tavarische?’ I cannot trust anybody. . . .”

He was silent and I also held my peace.

“I beg your pardon!” he began anew. “I offended you; but I am not simply

a man, I am a leader of great forces and have in my head so much care,

sorrow and woe!”

In his voice I felt there was mingled despair and sincerity. He frankly

put out his hand to me. Again silence. At last I answered:

“What do you order me to do now, for I have neither counterfeit nor real

documents? But many of your officers know me and in Urga I can find many

who will testify that I could be neither agitator nor. . .”

“No need, no need!” interrupted the Baron. “All is clear, all is

understood! I was in your soul and I know all. It is the truth which

Hutuktu Narabanchi has written about you. What can I do for you?”

I explained how my friend and I had escaped from Soviet Russia in the

effort to reach our native land and how a group of Polish soldiers had

joined us in the hope of getting back to Poland; and I asked that help

be given us to reach the nearest port.

“With pleasure, with pleasure. . . . I will help you all,” he answered

excitedly. “I shall drive you to Urga in my motor car. Tomorrow we shall

start and there in Urga we shall talk about further arrangements.”

Taking my leave, I went out of the yurta. On arriving at my quarters, I

found Colonel Kazagrandi in great anxiety walking up and down my room.

“Thanks be to God!” he exclaimed and crossed himself.

His joy was very touching but at the same time I thought that the

Colonel could have taken much more active measures for the salvation of

his guest, if he had been so minded. The agitation of this day had

tired me and made me feel years older. When I looked in the mirror I

was certain there were more white hairs on my head. At night I could

not sleep for the flashing thoughts of the young, fine face of Colonel

Philipoff, the pool of blood, the cold eyes of Captain Veseloffsky, the

sound of Baron Ungern’s voice with its tones of despair and woe, until

finally I sank into a heavy stupor. I was awakened by Baron Ungern who

came to ask pardon that he could not take me in his motor car, because

he was obliged to take Daichin Van with him. But he informed me that he

had left instructions to give me his own white camel and two Cossacks as

servants. I had no time to thank him before he rushed out of my room.

Sleep then entirely deserted me, so I dressed and began smoking pipe

after pipe of tobacco, as I thought: “How much easier to fight the

Bolsheviki on the swamps of Seybi and to cross the snowy peaks of Ulan

Taiga, where the bad demons kill all the travelers they can! There

everything was simple and comprehensible, but here it is all a mad

nightmare, a dark and foreboding storm!” I felt some tragedy, some

horror in every movement of Baron Ungern, behind whom paced this silent,

white-faced Veseloffsky and Death.

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE HORROR OF WAR!

At dawn of the following morning they led up the splendid white camel

for me and we moved away. My company consisted of the two Cossacks, two

Mongol soldiers and one Lama with two pack camels carrying the tent and

food. I still apprehended that the Baron had it in mind not to dispose

of me before my friends there in Van Kure but to prepare this journey

for me under the guise of which it would be so easy to do away with

me by the road. A bullet in the back and all would be finished.

Consequently I was momentarily ready to draw my revolver and defend

myself. I took care all the time to have the Cossacks either ahead of me

or at the side. About noon we heard the distant honk of a motor car and

soon saw Baron Ungern whizzing by us at full speed. With him were two

adjutants and Prince Daichin Van. The Baron greeted me very kindly and

shouted:

“Shall see you again in Urga!”

“Ah!” I thought, “evidently I shall reach Urga. So I can be at ease

during my trip, and in Urga I have many friends beside the presence

there of the bold Polish soldiers whom I had worked with in Uliassutai

and who had outdistanced me in this journey.”

After the meeting with the Baron my Cossacks became very attentive to

me and sought to distract me with stories. They told me about their

very severe struggles with the Bolsheviki in Transbaikalia and Mongolia,

about the battle with the Chinese near Urga, about finding communistic

passports on several Chinese soldiers from Moscow, about the bravery of

Baron Ungern and how he would sit at the campfire smoking and drinking

tea right on the battle line without ever being touched by a bullet.

At one fight seventy-four bullets entered his overcoat, saddle and

the boxes by his side and again left him untouched. This is one of

the reasons for his great influence over the Mongols. They related how

before the battle he had made a reconnaissance in Urga with only

one Cossack and on his way back had killed a Chinese officer and two

soldiers with his bamboo stick or tashur; how he had no outfit save one

change of linen and one extra pair of boots; how he was always calm and

jovial in battle and severe and morose in the rare days of peace; and

how he was everywhere his soldiers were fighting.

I told them, in turn, of my escape from Siberia and with chatting thus

the day slipped by very quickly. Our camels trotted all the time, so

that instead of the ordinary eighteen to twenty miles per day we made

nearly fifty. My mount was the fastest of them all. He was a huge white

animal with a splendid thick mane and had been presented to Baron Ungern

by some Prince of Inner Mongolia with two black sables tied on the

bridle. He was a calm, strong, bold giant of the desert, on whose back

I felt myself as though perched on the tower of a building. Beyond the

Orkhon River we came across the first dead body of a Chinese soldier,

which lay face up and arms outstretched right in the middle of the road.

When we had crossed the Burgut Mountains, we entered the Tola River

valley, farther up which Urga is located. The road was strewn with the

overcoats, shirts, boots, caps and kettles which the Chinese had thrown

away in their flight; and marked by many of their dead. Further on the

road crossed a morass, where on either side lay great mounds of the dead

bodies of men, horses and camels with broken carts and military debris

of every sort. Here the Tibetans of Baron Ungern had cut up the escaping

Chinese baggage transport; and it was a strange and gloomy contrast to

see the piles of dead besides the effervescing awakening life of spring.

In every pool wild ducks of different kinds floated about; in the high

grass the cranes performed their weird dance of courtship; on the lakes

great flocks of swans and geese were swimming; through the swampy places

like spots of light moved the brilliantly colored pairs of the Mongolian

sacred bird, the turpan or “Lama goose”; on the higher dry places flocks

of wild turkey gamboled and fought as they fed; flocks of the salga

partridge whistled by; while on the mountain side not far away the

wolves lay basking and turning in the lazy warmth of the sun, whining

and occasionally barking like playful dogs.

Nature knows only life. Death is for her but an episode whose traces

she rubs out with sand and snow or ornaments with luxuriant greenery

and brightly colored bushes and flowers. What matters it to Nature if a

mother at Chefoo or on the banks of the Yangtse offers her bowl of rice

with burning incense at some shrine and prays for the return of her son

that has fallen unknown for all time on the plains along the Tola, where

his bones will dry beneath the rays of Nature’s dissipating fire and be

scattered by her winds over the sands of the prairie? It is splendid,

this indifference of Nature to death, and her greediness for life!

On the fourth day we made the shores of the Tola well after nightfall.

We could not find the regular ford and I forced my camel to enter

the stream in the attempt to make a crossing without guidance. Very

fortunately I found a shallow, though somewhat miry, place and we got

over all right. This is something to be thankful for in fording a river

with a camel; because, when your mount finds the water too deep, coming

up around his neck, he does not strike out and swim like a horse will do

but just rolls over on his side and floats, which is vastly inconvenient

for his rider. Down by the river we pegged our tent.

Fifteen miles further on we crossed a battlefield, where the third great

battle for the independence of Mongolia had been fought. Here the troops

of Baron Ungern clashed with six thousand Chinese moving down from

Kiakhta to the aid of Urga. The Chinese were completely defeated and

four thousand prisoners taken. However, these surrendered Chinese tried

to escape during the night. Baron Ungern sent the Transbaikal Cossacks

and Tibetans in pursuit of them and it was their work which we saw on

this field of death. There were still about fifteen hundred unburied and

as many more interred, according to the statements of our Cossacks,

who had participated in this battle. The killed showed terrible sword

wounds; everywhere equipment and other debris were scattered about.

The Mongols with their herds moved away from the neighborhood and their

place was taken by the wolves which hid behind every stone and in every

ditch as we passed. Packs of dogs that had become wild fought with the

wolves over the prey.

At last we left this place of carnage to the cursed god of war. Soon we

approached a shallow, rapid stream, where the Mongols slipped from their

camels, took off their caps and began drinking. It was a sacred stream

which passed beside the abode of the Living Buddha. From this winding

valley we suddenly turned into another where a great mountain ridge

covered with dark, dense forest loomed up before us.

“Holy Bogdo-Ol!” exclaimed the Lama. “The abode of the Gods which guard

our Living Buddha!”

Bogdo-Ol is the huge knot which ties together here three mountain

chains: Gegyl from the southwest, Gangyn from the south, and Huntu from

the north. This mountain covered with virgin forest is the property of

the Living Buddha. The forests are full of nearly all the varieties

of animals found in Mongolia, but hunting is not allowed. Any Mongol

violating this law is condemned to death, while foreigners are deported.

Crossing the Bogdo-Ol is forbidden under penalty of death. This command

was transgressed by only one man, Baron Ungern, who crossed the mountain

with fifty Cossacks, penetrated to the palace of the Living Buddha,

where the Pontiff of Urga was being held under arrest by the Chinese,

and stole him.

CHAPTER XXXV

IN THE CITY OF LIVING GODS, OF 30,000 BUDDHAS AND 60,000 MONKS

At last before our eyes the abode of the Living Buddha! At the foot of

Bogdo-Ol behind white walls rose a white Tibetan building covered with

greenish-blue tiles that glittered under the sunshine. It was richly set

among groves of trees dotted here and there with the fantastic roofs

of shrines and small palaces, while further from the mountain it was

connected by a long wooden bridge across the Tola with the city of

monks, sacred and revered throughout all the East as Ta Kure or Urga.

Here besides the Living Buddha live whole throngs of secondary miracle

workers, prophets, sorcerers and wonderful doctors. All these people

have divine origin and are honored as living gods. At the left on the

high plateau stands an old monastery with a huge, dark red tower, which

is known as the “Temple Lamas City,” containing a gigantic bronze gilded

statue of Buddha sitting on the golden flower of the lotus; tens of

smaller temples, shrines, obo, open altars, towers for astrology and the

grey city of the Lamas consisting of single-storied houses and yurtas,

where about 60,000 monks of all ages and ranks dwell; schools, sacred

archives and libraries, the houses of Bandi and the inns for the honored

guests from China, Tibet, and the lands of the Buriat and Kalmuck.

Down below the monastery is the foreign settlement where the Russian,

foreign and richest Chinese merchants live and where the multi-colored

and crowded oriental bazaar carries forward its bustling life. A

kilometre away the greyish enclosure of Maimachen surrounds the

remaining Chinese trading establishments, while farther on one sees a

long row of Russian private houses, a hospital, church, prison and, last

of all, the awkward four-storied red brick building that was formerly

the Russian Consulate.

We were already within a short distance of the monastery, when I noticed

several Mongol soldiers in the mouth of a ravine nearby, dragging back

and concealing in the ravine three dead bodies.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

The Cossacks only smiled without answering. Suddenly they straightened

up with a sharp salute. Out of the ravine came a small, stocky Mongolian

pony with a short man in the saddle. As he passed us, I noticed the

epaulets of a colonel and the green cap with a visor. He examined me

with cold, colorless eyes from under dense brows. As he went on ahead,

he took off his cap and wiped the perspiration from his bald head. My

eyes were struck by the strange undulating line of his skull. It was the

man “with the head like a saddle,” against whom I had been warned by the

old fortune teller at the last ourton outside Van Kure!

“Who is this officer?” I inquired.

Although he was already quite a distance in front of us, the Cossacks

whispered: “Colonel Sepailoff, Commandant of Urga City.”

Colonel Sepailoff, the darkest person on the canvas of Mongolian events!

Formerly a mechanician, afterwards a gendarme, he had gained quick

promotion under the Czar’s regime. He was always nervously jerking and

wriggling his body and talking ceaselessly, making most unattractive

sounds in his throat and sputtering with saliva all over his lips, his

whole face often contracted with spasms. He was mad and Baron Ungern

twice appointed a commission of surgeons to examine him and ordered him

to rest in the hope he could rid the man of his evil genius. Undoubtedly

Sepailoff was a sadist. I heard afterwards that he himself executed

the condemned people, joking and singing as he did his work. Dark,

terrifying tales were current about him in Urga. He was a bloodhound,

fastening his victims with the jaws of death. All the glory of the

cruelty of Baron Ungern belonged to Sepailoff. Afterwards Baron Ungern

once told me in Urga that this Sepailoff annoyed him and that Sepailoff

could kill him just as well as others. Baron Ungern feared Sepailoff,

not as a man, but dominated by his own superstition, because Sepailoff

had found in Transbaikalia a witch doctor who predicted the death of the

Baron if he dismissed Sepailoff. Sepailoff knew no pardon for Bolshevik

nor for any one connected with the Bolsheviki in any way. The reason for

his vengeful spirit was that the Bolsheviki had tortured him in prison

and, after his escape, had killed all his family. He was now taking his

revenge.

I put up with a Russian firm and was at once visited by my associates

from Uliassutai, who greeted me with great joy because they had been

much exercised about the events in Van Kure and Zain Shabi. When I had

bathed and spruced up, I went out with them on the street. We entered

the bazaar. The whole market was crowded. To the lively colored groups

of men buying, selling and shouting their wares, the bright streamers of

Chinese cloth, the strings of pearls, the earrings and bracelets gave an

air of endless festivity; while on another side buyers were feeling of

live sheep to see whether they were fat or not, the butcher was cutting

great pieces of mutton from the hanging carcasses and everywhere these

sons of the plain were joking and jesting. The Mongolian women in their

huge coiffures and heavy silver caps like saucers on their heads were

admiring the variegated silk ribbons and long chains of coral beads; an

imposing big Mongol attentively examined a small herd of splendid

horses and bargained with the Mongol zahachine or owner of the horses; a

skinny, quick, black Tibetan, who had come to Urga to pray to the Living

Buddha or, maybe, with a secret message from the other “God” in Lhasa,

squatted and bargained for an image of the Lotus Buddha carved in agate;

in another corner a big crowd of Mongols and Buriats had collected and

surrounded a Chinese merchant selling finely painted snuff-bottles of

glass, crystal, porcelain, amethyst, jade, agate and nephrite, for one

of which made of a greenish milky nephrite with regular brown veins

running through it and carved with a dragon winding itself around a bevy

of young damsels the merchant was demanding of his Mongol inquirers ten

young oxen; and everywhere Buriats in their long red coats and small

red caps embroidered with gold helped the Tartars in black overcoats

and black velvet caps on the back of their heads to weave the pattern of

this Oriental human tapestry. Lamas formed the common background for it

all, as they wandered about in their yellow and red robes, with capes

picturesquely thrown over their shoulders and caps of many forms, some

like yellow mushrooms, others like the red Phrygian bonnets or old

Greek helmets in red. They mingled with the crowd, chatting serenely and

counting their rosaries, telling fortunes for those who would hear but

chiefly searching out the rich Mongols whom they could cure or exploit

by fortune telling, predictions or other mysteries of a city of 60,000

Lamas. Simultaneously religious and political espionage was being

carried out. Just at this time many Mongols were arriving from Inner

Mongolia and they were continuously surrounded by an invisible but

numerous network of watching Lamas. Over the buildings around floated

the Russian, Chinese and Mongolian national flags with a single one of

the Stars and Stripes above a small shop in the market; while over the

nearby tents and yurtas streamed the ribbons, the squares, the circles

and triangles of the princes and private persons afflicted or dying

from smallpox and leprosy. All were mingled and mixed in one bright mass

strongly lighted by the sun. Occasionally one saw the soldiers of Baron

Ungern rushing about in long blue coats; Mongols and Tibetans in red

coats with yellow epaulets bearing the swastika of Jenghiz Khan and

the initials of the Living Buddha; and Chinese soldiers from their

detachment in the Mongolian army. After the defeat of the Chinese army

two thousand of these braves petitioned the Living Buddha to enlist them

in his legions, swearing fealty and faith to him. They were accepted

and formed into two regiments bearing the old Chinese silver dragons on

their caps and shoulders.

As we crossed this market, from around a corner came a big motor car

with the roar of a siren. There was Baron Ungern in the yellow silk

Mongolian coat with a blue girdle. He was going very fast but recognized

me at once, stopping and getting out to invite me to go with him to his

yurta. The Baron lived in a small, simply arranged yurta, set up in the

courtyard of a Chinese hong. He had his headquarters in two other yurtas

nearby, while his servants occupied one of the Chinese fang-tzu. When

I reminded him of his promise to help me to reach the open ports, the

General looked at me with his bright eyes and spoke in French:

“My work here is coming to an end. In nine days I shall begin the war

with the Bolsheviki and shall go into the Transbaikal. I beg that you

will spend this time here. For many years I have lived without civilized

society. I am alone with my thoughts and I would like to have you know

them, speaking with me not as the ‘bloody mad Baron,’ as my enemies call

me, nor as the ‘severe grandfather,’ which my officers and soldiers call

me, but as an ordinary man who has sought much and has suffered even

more.”

The Baron reflected for some minutes and then continued:

“I have thought about the further trip of your group and I shall arrange

everything for you, but I ask you to remain here these nine days.”

What was I to do? I agreed. The Baron shook my hand warmly and ordered

tea.

CHAPTER XXXVI

A SON OF CRUSADERS AND PRIVATEERS

“Tell me about yourself and your trip,” he urged. In response I related

all that I thought would interest him and he appeared quite excited over

my tale.

“Now I shall tell you about myself, who and what I am! My name is

surrounded with such hate and fear that no one can judge what is the

truth and what is false, what is history and what myth. Some time you

will write about it, remembering your trip through Mongolia and your

sojourn at the yurta of the ‘bloody General.’”

He shut his eyes, smoking as he spoke, and tumbling out his sentences

without finishing them as though some one would prevent him from

phrasing them.

“The family of Ungern von Sternberg is an old family, a mixture of

Germans with Hungarians--Huns from the time of Attila. My warlike

ancestors took part in all the European struggles. They participated

in the Crusades and one Ungern was killed under the walls of Jerusalem,

fighting under Richard Coeur de Lion. Even the tragic Crusade of the

Children was marked by the death of Ralph Ungern, eleven years old.

When the boldest warriors of the country were despatched to the eastern

border of the German Empire against the Slavs in the twelfth century, my

ancestor Arthur was among them, Baron Halsa Ungern Sternberg. Here these

border knights formed the order of Monk Knights or Teutons, which

with fire and sword spread Christianity among the pagan Lithuanians,

Esthonians, Latvians and Slavs. Since then the Teuton Order of Knights

has always had among its members representatives of our family. When the

Teuton Order perished in the Grunwald under the swords of the Polish and

Lithuanian troops, two Barons Ungern von Sternberg were killed there.

Our family was warlike and given to mysticism and asceticism.

“During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries several Barons von

Ungern had their castles in the lands of Latvia and Esthonia. Many

legends and tales lived after them. Heinrich Ungern von Sternberg,

called ‘Ax,’ was a wandering knight. The tournaments of France, England,

Spain and Italy knew his name and lance, which filled the hearts of his

opponents with fear. He fell at Cadiz ‘neath the sword of a knight who

cleft both his helmet and his skull. Baron Ralph Ungern was a brigand

knight between Riga and Reval. Baron Peter Ungern had his castle on

the island of Dago in the Baltic Sea, where as a privateer he ruled the

merchantmen of his day.

“In the beginning of the eighteenth century there was also a well-known

Baron Wilhelm Ungern, who was referred to as the ‘brother of Satan’

because he was an alchemist. My grandfather was a privateer in the

Indian Ocean, taking his tribute from the English traders whose warships

could not catch him for several years. At last he was captured and

handed to the Russian Consul, who transported him to Russia where he was

sentenced to deportation to the Transbaikal. I am also a naval officer

but the Russo-Japanese War forced me to leave my regular profession to

join and fight with the Zabaikal Cossacks. I have spent all my life in

war or in the study and learning of Buddhism. My grandfather brought

Buddhism to us from India and my father and I accepted and professed it.

In Transbaikalia I tried to form the order of Military Buddhists for an

uncompromising fight against the depravity of revolution.”

He fell into silence and began drinking cup after cup of tea as strong

and black as coffee.

“Depravity of revolution! . . . Has anyone ever thought of it besides

the French philosopher, Bergson, and the most learned Tashi Lama in

Tibet?”

The grandson of the privateer, quoting scientific theories, works, the

names of scientists and writers, the Holy Bible and Buddhist books,

mixing together French, German, Russian and English, continued:

“In the Buddhistic and ancient Christian books we read stern predictions

about the time when the war between the good and evil spirits must

begin. Then there must come the unknown ‘Curse’ which will conquer the

world, blot out culture, kill morality and destroy all the people. Its

weapon is revolution. During every revolution the previously experienced

intellect-creator will be replaced by the new rough force of the

destroyer. He will place and hold in the first rank the lower instincts

and desires. Man will be farther removed from the divine and the

spiritual. The Great War proved that humanity must progress upward

toward higher ideals; but then appeared that Curse which was seen and

felt by Christ, the Apostle John, Buddha, the first Christian martyrs,

Dante, Leonardo da Vinci, Goethe and Dostoyevsky. It appeared, turned

back the wheel of progress and blocked our road to the Divinity.

Revolution is an infectious disease and Europe making the treaty with

Moscow deceived itself and the other parts of the world. The Great

Spirit put at the threshold of our lives Karma, who knows neither anger

nor pardon. He will reckon the account, whose total will be famine,

destruction, the death of culture, of glory, of honor and of spirit,

the death of states and the death of peoples. I see already this horror,

this dark, mad destruction of humanity.”

The door of the yurta suddenly swung open and an adjutant snapped into a

position of attention and salute.

“Why do you enter a room by force?” the General exclaimed in anger.

“Your Excellency, our outpost on the border has caught a Bolshevik

reconnaissance party and brought them here.”

The Baron arose. His eyes sparkled and his face contracted with spasms.

“Bring them in front of my yurta!” he ordered.

All was forgotten--the inspired speech, the penetrating voice--all were

sunk in the austere order of the severe commander. The Baron put on his

cap, caught up the bamboo tashur which he always carried with him and

rushed from the yurta. I followed him out. There in front of the yurta

stood six Red soldiers surrounded by the Cossacks.

The Baron stopped and glared sharply at them for several minutes. In his

face one could see the strong play of his thoughts. Afterwards he turned

away from them, sat down on the doorstep of the Chinese house and for a

long time was buried in thought. Then he rose, walked over to them and,

with an evident show of decisiveness in his movements, touched all the

prisoners on the shoulder with his tashur and said: “You to the left and

you to the right!” as he divided the squad into two sections, four on

the right and two on the left.

“Search those two! They must be commissars!” commanded the Baron and,

turning to the other four, asked: “Are you peasants mobilized by the

Bolsheviki?”

“Just so, Your Excellency!” cried the frightened soldiers.

“Go to the Commandant and tell him that I have ordered you to be

enlisted in my troops!”

On the two to the left they found passports of Commissars of the

Communist Political Department. The General knitted his brows and slowly

pronounced the following:

“Beat them to death with sticks!”

He turned and entered the yurta. After this our conversation did not

flow readily and so I left the Baron to himself.

After dinner in the Russian firm where I was staying some of Ungern’s

officers came in. We were chatting animatedly when suddenly we heard the

horn of an automobile, which instantly threw the officers into silence.

“The General is passing somewhere near,” one of them remarked in a

strangely altered voice.

Our interrupted conversation was soon resumed but not for long. The

clerk of the firm came running into the room and exclaimed: “The Baron!”

He entered the door but stopped on the threshold. The lamps had not yet

been lighted and it was getting dark inside, but the Baron instantly

recognized us all, approached and kissed the hand of the hostess,

greeted everyone very cordially and, accepting the cup of tea offered

him, drew up to the table to drink. Soon he spoke:

“I want to steal your guest,” he said to the hostess and then, turning

to me, asked: “Do you want to go for a motor ride? I shall show you the

city and the environs.”

Donning my coat, I followed my established custom and slipped my

revolver into it, at which the Baron laughed.

“Leave that trash behind! Here you are in safety. Besides you must

remember the prediction of Narabanchi Hutuktu that Fortune will ever be

with you.”

“All right,” I answered, also with a laugh. “I remember very well this

prediction. Only I do not know what the Hutuktu thinks ‘Fortune’ means

for me. Maybe it is death like the rest after my hard, long trip, and I

must confess that I prefer to travel farther and am not ready to die.”

We went out to the gate where the big Fiat stood with its intruding

great lights. The chauffeur officer sat at the wheel like a statue and

remained at salute all the time we were entering and seating ourselves.

“To the wireless station!” commanded the Baron.

We veritably leapt forward. The city swarmed, as earlier, with the

Oriental throng, but its appearance now was even more strange and

miraculous. In among the noisy crowd Mongol, Buriat and Tibetan riders

threaded swiftly; caravans of camels solemnly raised their heads as we

passed; the wooden wheels of the Mongol carts screamed in pain; and all

was illumined by splendid great arc lights from the electric station

which Baron Ungern had ordered erected immediately after the capture

of Urga, together with a telephone system and wireless station. He also

ordered his men to clean and disinfect the city which had probably not

felt the broom since the days of Jenghiz Khan. He arranged an auto-bus

traffic between different parts of the city; built bridges over the Tola

and Orkhon; published a newspaper; arranged a veterinary laboratory

and hospitals; re-opened the schools; protected commerce, mercilessly

hanging Russian and Mongolian soldiers for pillaging Chinese firms.

In one of these cases his Commandant arrested two Cossacks and a Mongol

soldier who had stolen brandy from one of the Chinese shops and brought

them before him. He immediately bundled them all into his car, drove off

to the shop, delivered the brandy back to the proprietor and as promptly

ordered the Mongol to hang one of the Russians to the big gate of the

compound. With this one swung he commanded: “Now hang the other!” and

this had only just been accomplished when he turned to the Commandant

and ordered him to hang the Mongol beside the other two. That seemed

expeditious and just enough until the Chinese proprietor came in dire

distress to the Baron and plead with him:

“General Baron! General Baron! Please take those men down from my

gateway, for no one will enter my shop!”