Armed with our false passports, we moved along up the valley of theTuba. Every ten or fifteen versts we came across large villages offrom one to six hundred houses, where all administration was in thehands of Soviets and where spies scrutinized all passers-by. Wecould not avoid these villages for two reasons. First, ourattempts to avoid them when we were constantly meeting the peasantsin the country would have aroused suspicion and would have causedany Soviet to arrest us and send us to the "Cheka" in Minnusinsk,where we should have sung our last song. Secondly, in hisdocuments my fellow traveler was granted permission to use thegovernment post relays for forwarding him on his journey.
Therefore, we were forced to visit the village Soviets and changeour horses. Our own mounts we had given to the Tartar and Cossackwho helped us at the mouth of the Tuba, and the Cossack brought usin his wagon to the first village, where we received the posthorses. All except a small minority of the peasants were againstthe Bolsheviki and voluntarily assisted us. I paid them for theirhelp by treating their sick and my fellow traveler gave thempractical advice in the management of their agriculture. Those whohelped us chiefly were the old dissenters and the Cossacks.
Sometimes we came across villages entirely Communistic but verysoon we learned to distinguish them. When we entered a villagewith our horse bells tinkling and found the peasants who happenedto be sitting in front of their houses ready to get up with a frownand a grumble that here were more new devils coming, we knew thatthis was a village opposed to the Communists and that here we couldstop in safety. But, if the peasants approached and greeted uswith pleasure, calling us "Comrades," we knew at once that we wereamong the enemy and took great precautions. Such villages wereinhabited by people who were not the Siberian liberty-lovingpeasants but by emigrants from the Ukraine, idle and drunk, livingin poor dirty huts, though their village were surrounded with theblack and fertile soil of the steppes. Very dangerous and pleasantmoments we spent in the large village of Karatuz. It is rather atown. In the year 1912 two colleges were opened here and thepopulation reached 15,000 people. It is the capital of the SouthYenisei Cossacks. But by now it is very difficult to recognizethis town. The peasant emigrants and Red army murdered all theCossack population and destroyed and burned most of the houses; andit is at present the center of Bolshevism and Communism in theeastern part of the Minnusinsk district. In the building of theSoviet, where we came to exchange our horses, there was being helda meeting of the "Cheka." We were immediately surrounded andquestioned about our documents. We were not any too calm about theimpression which might be made by our papers and attempted to avoidthis examination. My fellow traveler afterwards often said to me:
"It is great good fortune that among the Bolsheviki the good-for-nothing shoemaker of yesterday is the Governor of today andscientists sweep the streets or clean the stables of the Redcavalry. I can talk with the Bolsheviki because they do not knowthe difference between 'disinfection' and 'diphtheria,' 'anthracite' and 'appendicitis' and can talk them round in allthings, even up to persuading them not to put a bullet into me.And so we talked the members of the ""Cheka"" round to everythingthat we wanted. We presented to them a bright scheme for thefuture development of their district, when we would build the roadsand bridges which would allow them to export the wood fromUrianhai, iron and gold from the Sayan Mountains, cattle and fursfrom Mongolia. What a triumph of creative work for the SovietGovernment! Our ode occupied about an hour and afterwards themembers of the ""Cheka,"" forgetting about our documents, personallychanged our horses, placed our luggage on the wagon and wished ussuccess. It was the last ordeal within the borders of Russia.
"When we had crossed the valley of the river Amyl, Happiness smiledon us. Near the ferry we met a member of the militia from Karatuz.
He had on his wagon several rifles and automatic pistols, mostlyMausers, for outfitting an expedition through Urianhai in quest ofsome Cossack officers who had been greatly troubling theBolsheviki. We stood upon our guard. We could very easily havemet this expedition and we were not quite assured that the soldierswould be so appreciative of our high-sounding phrases as were themembers of the "Cheka." Carefully questioning the militiaman, weferreted out the route their expedition was to take. In the nextvillage we stayed in the same house with him. I had to open myluggage and suddenly I noticed his admiring glance fixed upon mybag.
What pleases you so much? I asked.
He whispered: "Trousers . . . Trousers."I had received from my townsmen quite new trousers of black thickcloth for riding. Those trousers attracted the rapt attention ofthe militiaman.
If you have no other trousers. . . . I remarked, reflecting uponmy plan of attack against my new friend.
No, he explained with sadness, "the Soviet does not furnishtrousers. They tell me they also go without trousers. And mytrousers are absolutely worn out. Look at them."With these words he threw back the corner of his overcoat and I wasastonished how he could keep himself inside these trousers, forthey had such large holes that they were more of a net thantrousers, a net through which a small shark could have slipped.
Sell me, he whispered, with a question in his voice.
I cannot, for I need them myself, I answered decisively.
He reflected for a few minutes and afterward, approaching me, said:
Let us go out doors and talk. Here it is inconvenient.We went outside. "Now, what about it?" he began. "You are goinginto Urianhai. There the Soviet bank-notes have no value and youwill not be able to buy anything, where there are plenty of sables,fox-skins, ermine and gold dust to be purchased, which they verywillingly exchange for rifles and cartridges. You have each of youa rifle and I will give you one more rifle with a hundredcartridges if you give me the trousers.""We do not need weapons. We are protected by our documents," Ianswered, as though I did not understand.
But no, he interrupted, "you can change that rifle there intofurs and gold. I shall give you that rifle outright.""Ah, that's it, is it? But it's very little for those trousers.
Nowhere in Russia can you now find trousers. All Russia goeswithout trousers and for your rifle I should receive a sable andwhat use to me is one skin?"Word by word I attained to my desire. The militia-man got mytrousers and I received a rifle with one hundred cartridges and twoautomatic pistols with forty cartridges each. We were armed now sothat we could defend ourselves. Moreover, I persuaded the happypossessor of my trousers to give us a permit to carry the weapons.
Then the law and force were both on our side.
In a distant village we bought three horses, two for riding and onefor packing, engaged a guide, purchased dried bread, meat, salt andbutter and, after resting twenty-four hours, began our trip up theAmyl toward the Sayan Mountains on the border of Urianhai. Therewe hoped not to meet Bolsheviki, either sly or silly. In threedays from the mouth of the Tuba we passed the last Russian villagenear the Mongolian-Urianhai border, three days of constant contactwith a lawless population, of continuous danger and of the everpresent possibility of fortuitous death. Only iron will power,presence of mind and dogged tenacity brought us through all thedangers and saved us from rolling back down our precipice ofadventure, at whose foot lay so many others who had failed to makethis same climb to freedom which we had just accomplished. Perhapsthey lacked the persistence or the presence of mind, perhaps theyhad not the poetic ability to sing odes about "roads, bridges andgold mines" or perhaps they simply had no spare trousers.
Dense virgin wood surrounded us. In the high, already yellow grassthe trail wound hardly noticeable in among bushes and trees justbeginning to drop their many colored leaves. It is the old,already forgotten Amyl pass road. Twenty-five years ago it carriedthe provisions, machinery and workers for the numerous, nowabandoned, gold mines of the Amyl valley. The road now wound alongthe wide and rapid Amyl, then penetrated into the deep forest,guiding us round the swampy ground filled with those dangerousSiberian quagmires, through the dense bushes, across mountains andwide meadows. Our guide probably did not surmise our realintention and sometimes, apprehensively looking down at the ground,would say:
Three riders on horses with shoes on have passed here. Perhapsthey were soldiers.His anxiety was terminated when he discovered that the tracks ledoff to one side and then returned to the trail.
They did not proceed farther, he remarked, slyly smiling.
That's too bad, we answered. "It would have been more lively totravel in company."But the peasant only stroked his beard and laughed. Evidently hewas not taken in by our statement.
We passed on the way a gold mine that had been formerly planned andequipped on splendid lines but was now abandoned and the buildingsall destroyed. The Bolsheviki had taken away the machinery,supplies and also some parts of the buildings. Nearby stood a darkand gloomy church with windows broken, the crucifix torn off andthe tower burned, a pitifully typical emblem of the Russia oftoday. The starving family of the watchman lived at the mine incontinuing danger and privation. They told us that in this forestregion were wandering about a band of Reds who were robbinganything that remained on the property of the gold mine, wereworking the pay dirt in the richest part of the mine and, with alittle gold washed, were going to drink and gamble it away in somedistant villages where the peasants were making the forbidden vodkaout of berries and potatoes and selling it for its weight in gold.
A meeting with this band meant death. After three days we crossedthe northern ridge of the Sayan chain, passed the border riverAlgiak and, after this day, were abroad in the territory ofUrianhai.
This wonderful land, rich in most diverse forms of natural wealth,is inhabited by a branch of the Mongols, which is now only sixtythousand and which is gradually dying off, speaking a languagequite different from any of the other dialects of this folk andholding as their life ideal the tenet of "Eternal Peace." Urianhailong ago became the scene of administrative attempts by Russians,Mongols and Chinese, all of whom claimed sovereignty over theregion whose unfortunate inhabitants, the Soyots, had to paytribute to all three of these overlords. It was due to this thatthe land was not an entirely safe refuge for us. We had heardalready from our militiaman about the expedition preparing to gointo Urianhai and from the peasants we learned that the villagesalong the Little Yenisei and farther south had formed Reddetachments, who were robbing and killing everyone who fell intotheir hands. Recently they had killed sixty-two officersattempting to pass Urianhai into Mongolia; robbed and killed acaravan of Chinese merchants; and killed some German war prisonerswho escaped from the Soviet paradise. On the fourth day we reacheda swampy valley where, among open forests, stood a single Russianhouse. Here we took leave of our guide, who hastened away to getback before the snows should block his road over the Sayans. Themaster of the establishment agreed to guide us to the Seybi Riverfor ten thousand roubles in Soviet notes. Our horses were tiredand we were forced to give them a rest, so we decided to spendtwenty-four hours here.
We were drinking tea when the daughter of our host cried:
The Soyots are coming! Into the room with their rifles andpointed hats came suddenly four of them.
Mende, they grunted to us and then, without ceremony, beganexamining us critically. Not a button or a seam in our entireoutfit escaped their penetrating gaze. Afterwards one of them, whoappeared to be the local "Merin" or governor, began to investigateour political views. Listening to our criticisms of theBolsheviki, he was evidently pleased and began talking freely.
You are good people. You do not like Bolsheviki. We will helpyou.I thanked him and presented him with the thick silk cord which Iwas wearing as a girdle. Before night they left us saying thatthey would return in the morning. It grew dark. We went to themeadow to look after our exhausted horses grazing there and cameback to the house. We were gaily chatting with the hospitable hostwhen suddenly we heard horses' hoofs in the court and raucousvoices, followed by the immediate entry of five Red soldiers armedwith rifles and swords. Something unpleasant and cold rolled upinto my throat and my heart hammered. We knew the Reds as ourenemies. These men had the red stars on their Astrakhan caps andred triangles on their sleeves. They were members of thedetachment that was out to look for Cossack officers. Scowling atus they took off their overcoats and sat down. We first opened theconversation, explaining the purpose of our journey in exploringfor bridges, roads and gold mines. From them we then learned thattheir commander would arrive in a little while with seven more menand that they would take our host at once as a guide to the SeybiRiver, where they thought the Cossack officers must be hidden.
Immediately I remarked that our affairs were moving fortunately andthat we must travel along together. One of the soldiers repliedthat that would depend upon the "Comrade-officer."During our conversation the Soyot Governor entered. Veryattentively he studied again the new arrivals and then asked: "Whydid you take from the Soyots the good horses and leave bad ones?"The soldiers laughed at him.
Remember that you are in a foreign country! answered the Soyot,with a threat in his voice.
God and the Devil! cried one of the soldiers.
But the Soyot very calmly took a seat at the table and accepted thecup of tea the hostess was preparing for him. The conversationceased. The Soyot finished the tea, smoked his long pipe and,standing up, said:
If tomorrow morning the horses are not back at the owner's, weshall come and take them. And with these words he turned and wentout.
I noticed an expression of apprehension on the faces of thesoldiers. Shortly one was sent out as a messenger while the otherssat silent with bowed heads. Late in the night the officer arrivedwith his other seven men. As he received the report about theSoyot, he knitted his brows and said:
It's a bad mess. We must travel through the swamp where a Soyotwill be behind every mound watching us.He seemed really very anxious and his trouble fortunately preventedhim from paying much attention to us. I began to calm him andpromised on the morrow to arrange this matter with the Soyots. Theofficer was a coarse brute and a silly man, desiring strongly to bepromoted for the capture of the Cossack officers, and feared thatthe Soyot could prevent him from reaching the Seybi.
At daybreak we started together with the Red detachment. When wehad made about fifteen kilometers, we discovered behind the bushestwo riders. They were Soyots. On their backs were their flintrifles.
Wait for me! I said to the officer. "I shall go for a parleywith them."I went forward with all the speed of my horse. One of the horsemenwas the Soyot Governor, who said to me:
Remain behind the detachment and help us."All right, I answered, "but let us talk a little, in order thatthey may think we are parleying."After a moment I shook the hand of the Soyot and returned to thesoldiers.
All right, I exclaimed, "we can continue our journey. Nohindrance will come from the Soyots."We moved forward and, when we were crossing a large meadow, weespied at a long distance two Soyots riding at full gallop right upthe side of a mountain. Step by step I accomplished the necessarymanoeuvre to bring me and my fellow traveler somewhat behind thedetachment. Behind our backs remained only one soldier, verybrutish in appearance and apparently very hostile to us. I hadtime to whisper to my companion only one word: "Mauser," and sawthat he very carefully unbuttoned the saddle bag and drew out alittle the handle of his pistol.
Soon I understood why these soldiers, excellent woodsmen as theywere, would not attempt to go to the Seybi without a guide. Allthe country between the Algiak and the Seybi is formed by high andnarrow mountain ridges separated by deep swampy valleys. It is acursed and dangerous place. At first our horses mired to theknees, lunging about and catching their feet in the roots of bushesin the quagmires, then falling and pinning us under their sides,breaking parts of their saddles and bridles. Then we would go inup to the riders' knees. My horse went down once with his wholebreast and head under the red fluid mud and we just saved it and nomore. Afterwards the officer's horse fell with him so that hebruised his head on a stone. My companion injured one knee againsta tree. Some of the men also fell and were injured. The horsesbreathed heavily. Somewhere dimly and gloomily a crow cawed.
Later the road became worse still. The trail followed through thesame miry swamp but everywhere the road was blocked with fallentree trunks. The horses, jumping over the trunks, would land in anunexpectedly deep hole and flounder. We and all the soldiers werecovered with blood and mud and were in great fear of exhausting ourmounts. For a long distance we had to get down and lead them. Atlast we entered a broad meadow covered with bushes and borderedwith rocks. Not only horses but riders also began to sink to theirmiddle in a quagmire with apparently no bottom. The whole surfaceof the meadow was but a thin layer of turf, covering a lake withblack putrefying water. When we finally learned to open our columnand proceed at big intervals, we found we could keep on thissurface that undulated like rubber ice and swayed the bushes up anddown. In places the earth buckled up and broke.
Suddenly, three shots sounded. They were hardly more than thereport of a Flobert rifle; but they were genuine shots, because theofficer and two soldiers fell to the ground. The other soldiersgrabbed their rifles and, with fear, looked about for the enemy.
Four more were soon unseated and suddenly I noticed our rearguardbrute raise his rifle and aim right at me. However, my Mauseroutstrode his rifle and I was allowed to continue my story.
Begin! I cried to my friend and we took part in the shooting.
Soon the meadow began to swarm with Soyots, stripping the fallen,dividing the spoils and recapturing their horses. In some forms ofwarfare it is never safe to leave any of the enemy to renewhostilities later with overwhelming forces.
After an hour of very difficult road we began to ascend themountain and soon arrived on a high plateau covered with trees.
After all, Soyots are not a too peaceful people, I remarked,approaching the Governor.
He looked at me very sharply and replied:
It was not Soyots who did the killing.He was right. It was the Abakan Tartars in Soyot clothes whokilled the Bolsheviki. These Tartars were running their herds ofcattle and horses down out of Russia through Urianhai to Mongolia.
They had as their guide and negotiator a Kalmuck Lamaite. Thefollowing morning we were approaching a small settlement of Russiancolonists and noticed some horsemen looking out from the woods.
One of our young and brave Tartars galloped off at full speedtoward these men in the wood but soon wheeled and returned with areassuring smile.
All right, he exclaimed, laughing, "keep right on."We continued our travel on a good broad road along a high woodenfence surrounding a meadow filled with a fine herd of wapiti orizubr, which the Russian colonists breed for the horns that are sovaluable in the velvet for sale to Tibetan and Chinese medicinedealers. These horns, when boiled and dried, are called panti andare sold to the Chinese at very high prices.
We were received with great fear by the settlers.
Thank God! exclaimed the hostess, "we thought. . ." and she brokeoff, looking at her husband.
Constant dangers develop one's watchfulness and keenness ofperception. We did not take off our clothes nor unsaddle ourhorses, tired as we were. I put my Mauser inside my coat and beganto look about and scrutinize the people. The first thing Idiscovered was the butt end of a rifle under the pile of pillowsalways found on the peasants' large beds. Later I noticed theemployees of our host constantly coming into the room for ordersfrom him. They did not look like simple peasants, although theyhad long beards and were dressed very dirtily. They examined mewith very attentive eyes and did not leave me and my friend alonewith the host. We could not, however, make out anything. But thenthe Soyot Governor came in and, noticing our strained relations,began explaining in the Soyot language to the host all about us.
I beg your pardon, the colonist said, "but you know yourself thatnow for one honest man we have ten thousand murderers and robbers."With this we began chatting more freely. It appeared that our hostknew that a band of Bolsheviki would attack him in the search forthe band of Cossack officers who were living in his house on andoff. He had heard also about the "total loss" of one detachment.
However, it did not entirely calm the old man to have our news, forhe had heard of the large detachment of Reds that was coming fromthe border of the Usinsky District in pursuit of the Tartars whowere escaping with their cattle south to Mongolia.
From one minute to another we are awaiting them with fear, saidour host to me. "My Soyot has come in and announced that the Redsare already crossing the Seybi and the Tartars are prepared for thefight."We immediately went out to look over our saddles and packs and thentook the horses and hid them in the bushes not far off. We madeready our rifles and pistols and took posts in the enclosure towait for our common enemy. An hour of trying impatience passed,when one of the workmen came running in from the wood andwhispered:
They are crossing our swamp. . . . The fight is on.In fact, like an answer to his words, came through the woods thesound of a single rifle-shot, followed closely by the increasingrat-tat-tat of the mingled guns. Nearer to the house the soundsgradually came. Soon we heard the beating of the horses' hoofs andthe brutish cries of the soldiers. In a moment three of them burstinto the house, from off the road where they were being raked nowby the Tartars from both directions, cursing violently. One ofthem shot at our host. He stumbled along and fell on his knee, ashis hand reached out toward the rifle under his pillows.
Who are YOU? brutally blurted out one of the soldiers, turning tous and raising his rifle. We answered with Mausers andsuccessfully, for only one soldier in the rear by the door escaped,and that merely to fall into the hands of a workman in thecourtyard who strangled him. The fight had begun. The soldierscalled on their comrades for help. The Reds were strung along inthe ditch at the side of the road, three hundred paces from thehouse, returning the fire of the surrounding Tartars. Severalsoldiers ran to the house to help their comrades but this time weheard the regular volley of the workmen of our host. They fired asthough in a manoeuvre calmly and accurately. Five Red soldiers layon the road, while the rest now kept to their ditch. Before longwe discovered that they began crouching and crawling out toward theend of the ditch nearest the wood where they had left their horses.
The sounds of shots became more and more distant and soon we sawfifty or sixty Tartars pursuing the Reds across the meadow.
Two days we rested here on the Seybi. The workmen of our host,eight in number, turned out to be officers hiding from theBolsheviks. They asked permission to go on with us, to which weagreed.
When my friend and I continued our trip we had a guard of eightarmed officers and three horses with packs. We crossed a beautifulvalley between the Rivers Seybi and Ut. Everywhere we saw splendidgrazing lands with numerous herds upon them, but in two or threehouses along the road we did not find anyone living. All hadhidden away in fear after hearing the sounds of the fight with theReds. The following day we went up over the high chain ofmountains called Daban and, traversing a great area of burnedtimber where our trail lay among the fallen trees, we began todescend into a valley hidden from us by the intervening foothills.
There behind these hills flowed the Little Yenisei, the last largeriver before reaching Mongolia proper. About ten kilometers fromthe river we spied a column of smoke rising up out of the wood.
Two of the officers slipped away to make an investigation. For along time they did not return and we, fearful lest something hadhappened, moved off carefully in the direction of the smoke, allready for a fight if necessary. We finally came near enough tohear the voices of many people and among them the loud laugh of oneof our scouts. In the middle of a meadow we made out a large tentwith two tepees of branches and around these a crowd of fifty orsixty men. When we broke out of the forest all of them rushedforward with a joyful welcome for us. It appeared that it was alarge camp of Russian officers and soldiers who, after their escapefrom Siberia, had lived in the houses of the Russian colonists andrich peasants in Urianhai.
What are you doing here? we asked with surprise.
Oh, ho, you know nothing at all about what has been going on?replied a fairly old man who called himself Colonel Ostrovsky. "InUrianhai an order has been issued from the Military Commissioner tomobilize all men over twenty-eight years of age and everywheretoward the town of Belotzarsk are moving detachments of thesePartisans. They are robbing the colonists and peasants and killingeveryone that falls into their hands. We are hiding here fromthem."The whole camp counted only sixteen rifles and three bombs,belonging to a Tartar who was traveling with his Kalmuck guide tohis herds in Western Mongolia. We explained the aim of our journeyand our intention to pass through Mongolia to the nearest port onthe Pacific. The officers asked me to bring them out with us. Iagreed. Our reconnaissance proved to us that there were noPartisans near the house of the peasant who was to ferry us overthe Little Yenisei. We moved off at once in order to pass asquickly as possible this dangerous zone of the Yenisei and to sinkourselves into the forest beyond. It snowed but immediatelythawed. Before evening a cold north wind sprang up, bringing withit a small blizzard. Late in the night our party reached theriver. Our colonist welcomed us and offered at once to ferry usover and swim the horses, although there was ice still floatingwhich had come down from the head-waters of the stream. Duringthis conversation there was present one of the peasant's workmen,red-haired and squint-eyed. He kept moving around all the time andsuddenly disappeared. Our host noticed it and, with fear in hisvoice, said:
He has run to the village and will guide the Partisans here. Wemust cross immediately.Then began the most terrible night of my whole journey. Weproposed to the colonist that he take only our food and ammunitionin the boat, while we would swim our horses across, in order tosave the time of the many trips. The width of the Yenisei in thisplace is about three hundred metres. The stream is very rapid andthe shore breaks away abruptly to the full depth of the stream.
The night was absolutely dark with not a star in the sky. The windin whistling swirls drove the snow and sleet sharply against ourfaces. Before us flowed the stream of black, rapid water, carryingdown thin, jagged blocks of ice, twisting and grinding in thewhirls and eddies. For a long time my horse refused to take theplunge down the steep bank, snorted and braced himself. With allmy strength I lashed him with my whip across his neck until, with apitiful groan, he threw himself into the cold stream. We both wentall the way under and I hardly kept my seat in the saddle. Soon Iwas some metres from the shore with my horse stretching his headand neck far forward in his efforts and snorting and blowingincessantly. I felt the every motion of his feet churning thewater and the quivering of his whole body under me in this trial.
At last we reached the middle of the river, where the currentbecame exceedingly rapid and began to carry us down with it. Outof the ominous darkness I heard the shoutings of my companions andthe dull cries of fear and suffering from the horses. I was chestdeep in the icy water. Sometimes the floating blocks struck me;sometimes the waves broke up over my head and face. I had no timeto look about or to feel the cold. The animal wish to live tookpossession of me; I became filled with the thought that, if myhorse's strength failed in his struggle with the stream, I mustperish. All my attention was turned to his efforts and to hisquivering fear. Suddenly he groaned loudly and I noticed he wassinking. The water evidently was over his nostrils, because theintervals of his frightened snorts through the nostrils becamelonger. A big block of ice struck his head and turned him so thathe was swimming right downstream. With difficulty I reined himaround toward the shore but felt now that his force was gone. Hishead several times disappeared under the swirling surface. I hadno choice. I slipped from the saddle and, holding this by my lefthand, swam with my right beside my mount, encouraging him with myshouts. For a time he floated with lips apart and his teeth setfirm. In his widely opened eyes was indescribable fear. As soonas I was out of the saddle, he had at once risen in the water andswam more calmly and rapidly. At last under the hoofs of myexhausted animal I heard the stones. One after another mycompanions came up on the shore. The well-trained horses hadbrought all their burdens over. Much farther down our colonistlanded with the supplies. Without a moment's loss we packed ourthings on the horses and continued our journey. The wind wasgrowing stronger and colder. At the dawn of day the cold wasintense. Our soaked clothes froze and became hard as leather; ourteeth chattered; and in our eyes showed the red fires of fever: butwe traveled on to put as much space as we could between ourselvesand the Partisans. Passing about fifteen kilometres through theforest we emerged into an open valley, from which we could see theopposite bank of the Yenisei. It was about eight o'clock. Alongthe road on the other shore wound the black serpent-like line ofriders and wagons which we made out to be a column of Red soldierswith their transport. We dismounted and hid in the bushes in orderto avoid attracting their attention.
All the day with the thermometer at zero and below we continued ourjourney, only at night reaching the mountains covered with larchforests, where we made big fires, dried our clothes and warmedourselves thoroughly. The hungry horses did not leave the firesbut stood right behind us with drooped heads and slept. Very earlyin the morning several Soyots came to our camp.
Ulan? (Red?) asked one of them.
No! No! exclaimed all our company.
Tzagan? (White?) followed the new question.
Yes, yes, said the Tartar, "all are Whites.""Mende! Mende!" they grunted and, after starting their cups oftea, began to relate very interesting and important news. Itappeared that the Red Partisans, moving from the mountains TannuOla, occupied with their outposts all the border of Mongolia tostop and seize the peasants and Soyots driving out their cattle.
To pass the Tannu Ola now would be impossible. I saw only one way--to turn sharp to the southeast, pass the swampy valley of theBuret Hei and reach the south shore of Lake Kosogol, which isalready in the territory of Mongolia proper. It was veryunpleasant news. To the first Mongol post in Samgaltai was notmore than sixty miles from our camp, while to Kosogol by theshortest line not less than two hundred seventy-five. The horsesmy friend and I were riding, after having traveled more than sixhundred miles over hard roads and without proper food or rest,could scarcely make such an additional distance. But, reflectingupon the situation and studying my new fellow travelers, Idetermined not to attempt to pass the Tannu Ola. They werenervous, morally weary men, badly dressed and armed and most ofthem were without weapons. I knew that during a fight there is nodanger so great as that of disarmed men. They are easily caught bypanic, lose their heads and infect all the others. Therefore, Iconsulted with my friends and decided to go to Kosogol. Ourcompany agreed to follow us. After luncheon, consisting of soupwith big lumps of meat, dry bread and tea, we moved out. About twoo'clock the mountains began to rise up before us. They were thenortheast outspurs of the Tannu Ola, behind which lay the Valley ofBuret Hei.
In a valley between two sharp ridges we discovered a herd of yaksand cattle being rapidly driven off to the north by ten mountedSoyots. Approaching us warily they finally revealed that Noyon(Prince) of Todji had ordered them to drive the herds along theBuret Hei into Mongolia, apprehending the pillaging of the RedPartisans. They proceeded but were informed by some Soyot huntersthat this part of the Tannu Ola was occupied by the Partisans fromthe village of Vladimirovka. Consequently they were forced toreturn. We inquired from them the whereabouts of these outpostsand how many Partisans were holding the mountain pass over intoMongolia. We sent out the Tartar and the Kalmuck for areconnaissance while all of us prepared for the further advance bywrapping the feet of our horses in our shirts and by muzzling theirnoses with straps and bits of rope so that they could not neigh.
It was dark when our investigators returned and reported to us thatabout thirty Partisans had a camp some ten kilometers from us,occupying the yurtas of the Soyots. At the pass were two outposts,one of two soldiers and the other of three. From the outposts tothe camp was a little over a mile. Our trail lay between the twooutposts. From the top of the mountain one could plainly see thetwo posts and could shoot them all. When we had come near to thetop of this mountain, I left our party and, taking with me myfriend, the Tartar, the Kalmuck and two of the young officers,advanced. From the mountain I saw about five hundred yards aheadtwo fires. At each of the fires sat a soldier with his rifle andthe others slept. I did not want to fight with the Partisans butwe had to do away with these outposts and that without firing or wenever should get through the pass. I did not believe the Partisanscould afterwards track us because the whole trail was thicklymarked with the spoors of horses and cattle.
I shall take for my share these two, whispered my friend,pointing to the left outpost.
The rest of us were to take care of the second post. I crept alongthrough the bushes behind my friend in order to help him in case ofneed; but I am bound to admit that I was not at all worried abouthim. He was about seven feet tall and so strong that, when a horseused to refuse sometimes to take the bit, he would wrap his armaround its neck, kick its forefeet out from under it and throw itso that he could easily bridle it on the ground. When only ahundred paces remained, I stood behind the bushes and watched. Icould see very distinctly the fire and the dozing sentinel. He satwith his rifle on his knees. His companion, asleep beside him, didnot move. Their white felt boots were plainly visible to me. Fora long time I did not remark my friend. At the fire all was quiet.
Suddenly from the other outpost floated over a few dim shouts andall was still. Our sentinel slowly raised his head. But just atthis moment the huge body of my friend rose up and blanketed thefire from me and in a twinkling the feet of the sentinel flashedthrough the air, as my companion had seized him by the throat andswung him clear into the bushes, where both figures disappeared.
In a second he re-appeared, flourished the rifle of the Partisanover his head and I heard the dull blow which was followed by anabsolute calm. He came back toward me and, confusedly smiling,said:
It is done. God and the Devil! When I was a boy, my motherwanted to make a priest out of me. When I grew up, I became atrained agronome in order . . . to strangle the people and smashtheir skulls. Revolution is a very stupid thing!And with anger and disgust he spit and began to smoke his pipe.
At the other outpost also all was finished. During this night wereached the top of the Tannu Ola and descended again into a valleycovered with dense bushes and twined with a whole network of smallrivers and streams. It was the headwaters of the Buret Hei. Aboutone o'clock we stopped and began to feed our horses, as the grassjust there was very good. Here we thought ourselves in safety. Wesaw many calming indications. On the mountains were seen thegrazing herds of reindeers and yaks and approaching Soyotsconfirmed our supposition. Here behind the Tannu Ola the Soyotshad not seen the Red soldiers. We presented to these Soyots abrick of tea and saw them depart happy and sure that we were"Tzagan," a "good people."While our horses rested and grazed on the well-preserved grass, wesat by the fire and deliberated upon our further progress. Theredeveloped a sharp controversy between two sections of our company,one led by a Colonel who with four officers were so impressed bythe absence of Reds south of the Tannu Ola that they determined towork westward to Kobdo and then on to the camp on the Emil Riverwhere the Chinese authorities had interned six thousand of theforces of General Bakitch, which had come over into Mongolianterritory. My friend and I with sixteen of the officers chose tocarry through our old plan to strike for the shores of Lake Kosogoland thence out to the Far East. As neither side could persuade theother to abandon its ideas, our company was divided and the nextday at noon we took leave of one another. It turned out that ourown wing of eighteen had many fights and difficulties on the way,which cost us the lives of six of our comrades, but that theremainder of us came through to the goal of our journey so closelyknit by the ties of devotion which fighting and struggling for ourvery lives entailed that we have ever preserved for one another thewarmest feelings of friendship. The other group under ColonelJukoff perished. He met a big detachment of Red cavalry and wasdefeated by them in two fights. Only two officers escaped. Theyrelated to me this sad news and the details of the fights when wemet four months later in Urga.
Our band of eighteen riders with five packhorses moved up thevalley of the Buret Hei. We floundered in the swamps, passedinnumerable miry streams, were frozen by the cold winds and weresoaked through by the snow and sleet; but we persistedindefatigably toward the south end of Kosogol. As a guide ourTartar led us confidently over these trails well marked by the feetof many cattle being run out of Urianhai to Mongolia.
The inhabitants of Urianhai, the Soyots, are proud of being thegenuine Buddhists and of retaining the pure doctrine of holy Ramaand the deep wisdom of Sakkia-Mouni. They are the eternal enemiesof war and of the shedding of blood. Away back in the thirteenthcentury they preferred to move out from their native land and takerefuge in the north rather than fight or become a part of theempire of the bloody conqueror Jenghiz Khan, who wanted to add tohis forces these wonderful horsemen and skilled archers. Threetimes in their history they have thus trekked northward to avoidstruggle and now no one can say that on the hands of the Soyotsthere has ever been seen human blood. With their love of peacethey struggled against the evils of war. Even the severe Chineseadministrators could not apply here in this country of peace thefull measure of their implacable laws. In the same manner theSoyots conducted themselves when the Russian people, mad with bloodand crime, brought this infection into their land. They avoidedpersistently meetings and encounters with the Red troops andPartisans, trekking off with their families and cattle southwardinto the distant principalities of Kemchik and Soldjak. Theeastern branch of this stream of emigration passed through thevalley of the Buret Hei, where we constantly outstrode groups ofthem with their cattle and herds.
We traveled quickly along the winding trail of the Buret Hei and intwo days began to make the elevations of the mountain pass betweenthe valleys of the Buret Hei and Kharga. The trail was not onlyvery steep but was also littered with fallen larch trees andfrequently intercepted, incredible as it may seem, with swampyplaces where the horses mired badly. Then again we picked ourdangerous road over cobbles and small stones that rolled away underour horses' feet and bumped off over the precipice nearby. Ourhorses fatigued easily in passing this moraine that had been strewnby ancient glaciers along the mountain sides. Sometimes the trailled right along the edge of the precipices where the horses startedgreat slides of stones and sand. I remember one whole mountaincovered with these moving sands. We had to leave our saddles and,taking the bridles in our hands, to trot for a mile or more overthese sliding beds, sometimes sinking in up to our knees and goingdown the mountain side with them toward the precipices below. Oneimprudent move at times would have sent us over the brink. Thisdestiny met one of our horses. Belly down in the moving trap, hecould not work free to change his direction and so slipped on downwith a mass of it until he rolled over the precipice and was lostto us forever. We heard only the crackling of breaking trees alonghis road to death. Then with great difficulty we worked down tosalvage the saddle and bags. Further along we had to abandon oneof our pack horses which had come all the way from the northernborder of Urianhai with us. We first unburdened it but this didnot help; no more did our shouting and threats. He only stood withhis head down and looked so exhausted that we realized he hadreached the further bourne of his land of toil. Some Soyots withus examined him, felt of his muscles on the fore and hind legs,took his head in their hands and moved it from side to side,examined his head carefully after that and then said:
That horse will not go further. His brain is dried out. So wehad to leave him.
That evening we came to a beautiful change in scene when we toppeda rise and found ourselves on a broad plateau covered with larch.
On it we discovered the yurtas of some Soyot hunters, covered withbark instead of the usual felt. Out of these ten men with riflesrushed toward us as we approached. They informed us that thePrince of Soldjak did not allow anyone to pass this way, as hefeared the coming of murderers and robbers into his dominions.
Go back to the place from which you came, they advised us withfear in their eyes.
I did not answer but I stopped the beginnings of a quarrel betweenan old Soyot and one of my officers. I pointed to the small streamin the valley ahead of us and asked him its name.
Oyna, replied the Soyot. "It is the border of the principalityand the passage of it is forbidden.""All right," I said, "but you will allow us to warm and restourselves a little.""Yes, yes!" exclaimed the hospitable Soyots, and led us into theirtepees.
On our way there I took the opportunity to hand to the old Soyot acigarette and to another a box of matches. We were all walkingalong together save one Soyot who limped slowly in the rear and washolding his hand up over his nose.
Is he ill? I asked.
Yes, sadly answered the old Soyot. "That is my son. He has beenlosing blood from the nose for two days and is now quite weak."I stopped and called the young man to me.
Unbutton your outer coat, I ordered, "bare your neck and chestand turn your face up as far as you can." I pressed the jugularvein on both sides of his head for some minutes and said to him:
The blood will not flow from your nose any more. Go into yourtepee and lie down for some time.The "mysterious" action of my fingers created on the Soyots astrong impression. The old Soyot with fear and reverencewhispered:
Ta Lama, Ta Lama! (Great Doctor).In the yurta we were given tea while the old Soyot sat thinkingdeeply about something. Afterwards he took counsel with hiscompanions and finally announced:
"The wife of our Prince is sick in her eyes and I think the Princewill be very glad if I lead the 'Ta Lama' to him. He will notpunish me, for he ordered that no 'bad people' should be allowed topass; but that should not stop the 'good people' from coming to us. Do as you think best,"" I replied rather indifferently. ""As amatter of fact, I know how to treat eye diseases but I would goback if you say so.""""No, no!"" the old man exclaimed with fear. ""I shall guide youmyself.""Sitting by the fire, he lighted his pipe with a flint, wiped themouthpiece on his sleeve and offered it to me in true nativehospitality. I was ""comme il faut"" and smoked. Afterwards heoffered his pipe to each one of our company and received from eacha cigarette, a little tobacco or some matches. It was the seal onour friendship. Soon in our yurta many persons piled up around us,men, women, children and dogs. It was impossible to move. Fromamong them emerged a Lama with shaved face and close cropped hair,dressed in the flowing red garment of his caste. His clothes andhis expression were very different from the common mass of dirtySoyots with their queues and felt caps finished off with squirreltails on the top. The Lama was very kindly disposed towards us butlooked ever greedily at our gold rings and watches. I decided toexploit this avidity of the Servant of Buddha. Supplying him withtea and dried bread, I made known to him that I was in need ofhorses.
"I have a horse. Will you buy it from me? he asked. "But I donot accept Russian bank notes. Let us exchange something."For a long time I bargained with him and at last for my goldwedding ring, a raincoat and a leather saddle bag I received a fineSoyot horse--to replace one of the pack animals we had lost--and ayoung goat. We spent the night here and were feasted with fatmutton. In the morning we moved off under the guidance of the oldSoyot along the trail that followed the valley of the Oyna, freefrom both mountains and swamps. But we knew that the mounts of myfriend and myself, together with three others, were too worn downto make Kosogol and determined to try to buy others in Soldjak.
Soon we began to meet little groups of Soyot yurtas with theircattle and horses round about. Finally we approached the shiftingcapital of the Prince. Our guide rode on ahead for the parley withhim after assuring us that the Prince would be glad to welcome theTa Lama, though at the time I remarked great anxiety and fear inhis features as he spoke. Before long we emerged on to a largeplain well covered with small bushes. Down by the shore of theriver we made out big yurtas with yellow and blue flags floatingover them and easily guessed that this was the seat of government.
Soon our guide returned to us. His face was wreathed with smiles.
He flourished his hands and cried:
Noyon (the Prince) asks you to come! He is very glad!From a warrior I was forced to change myself into a diplomat. Aswe approached the yurta of the Prince, we were met by twoofficials, wearing the peaked Mongol caps with peacock feathersrampants behind. With low obeisances they begged the foreign"Noyon" to enter the yurta. My friend the Tartar and I entered.
In the rich yurta draped with expensive silk we discovered afeeble, wizen-faced little old man with shaven face and croppedhair, wearing also a high pointed beaver cap with red silk apextopped off with a dark red button with the long peacock feathersstreaming out behind. On his nose were big Chinese spectacles. Hewas sitting on a low divan, nervously clicking the beads of hisrosary. This was Ta Lama, Prince of Soldjak and High Priest of theBuddhist Temple. He welcomed us very cordially and invited us tosit down before the fire burning in the copper brazier. Hissurprisingly beautiful Princess served us with tea and Chineseconfections and cakes. We smoked our pipes, though the Prince as aLama did not indulge, fulfilling, however, his duty as a host byraising to his lips the pipes we offered him and handing us inreturn the green nephrite bottle of snuff. Thus with the etiquetteaccomplished we awaited the words of the Prince. He inquiredwhether our travels had been felicitous and what were our furtherplans. I talked with him quite frankly and requested hishospitality for the rest of our company and for the horses. Heagreed immediately and ordered four yurtas set up for us.
I hear that the foreign Noyon, the Prince said, "is a gooddoctor.""Yes, I know some diseases and have with me some medicines," Ianswered, "but I am not a doctor. I am a scientist in otherbranches."But the Prince did not understand this. In his simple directness aman who knows how to treat disease is a doctor.
My wife has had constant trouble for two months with her eyes, heannounced. "Help her."I asked the Princess to show me her eyes and I found the typicalconjunctivitis from the continual smoke of the yurta and thegeneral uncleanliness. The Tartar brought me my medicine case. Iwashed her eyes with boric acid and dropped a little cocaine and afeeble solution of sulphurate of zinc into them.
I beg you to cure me, pleaded the Princess. "Do not go awayuntil you have cured me. We shall give you sheep, milk and flourfor all your company. I weep now very often because I had verynice eyes and my husband used to tell me they shone like the starsand now they are red. I cannot bear it, I cannot!"She very capriciously stamped her foot and, coquettishly smiling atme, asked:
Do you want to cure me? Yes?The character and manners of lovely woman are the same everywhere:
on bright Broadway, along the stately Thames, on the vivaciousboulevards of gay Paris and in the silk-draped yurta of the SoyotPrincess behind the larch covered Tannu Ola.
I shall certainly try, assuringly answered the new oculist.
We spent here ten days, surrounded by the kindness and friendshipof the whole family of the Prince. The eyes of the Princess, whicheight years ago had seduced the already old Prince Lama, were nowrecovered. She was beside herself with joy and seldom left herlooking-glass.
The Prince gave me five fairly good horses, ten sheep and a bag offlour, which was immediately transformed into dry bread. My friendpresented him with a Romanoff five-hundred-rouble note with apicture of Peter the Great upon it, while I gave to him a smallnugget of gold which I had picked up in the bed of a stream. ThePrince ordered one of the Soyots to guide us to the Kosogol. Thewhole family of the Prince conducted us to the monastery tenkilometres from the "capital." We did not visit the monastery butwe stopped at the "Dugun," a Chinese trading establishment. TheChinese merchants looked at us in a very hostile manner though theysimultaneously offered us all sorts of goods, thinking especiallyto catch us with their round bottles (lanhon) of maygolo or sweetbrandy made from aniseed. As we had neither lump silver norChinese dollars, we could only look with longing at theseattractive bottles, till the Prince came to the rescue and orderedthe Chinese to put five of them in our saddle bags.
In the evening of the same day we arrived at the Sacred Lake ofTeri Noor, a sheet of water eight kilometres across, muddy andyellow, with low unattractive shores studded with large holes. Inthe middle of the lake lay what was left of a disappearing island.
On this were a few trees and some old ruins. Our guide explainedto us that two centuries ago the lake did not exist and that a verystrong Chinese fortress stood here on the plain. A Chinese chiefin command of the fortress gave offence to an old Lama who cursedthe place and prophesied that it would all be destroyed. The verynext day the water began rushing up from the ground, destroyed thefortress and engulfed all the Chinese soldiers. Even to this daywhen storms rage over the lake the waters cast up on the shores thebones of men and horses who perished in it. This Teri Noorincreases its size every year, approaching nearer and nearer to themountains. Skirting the eastern shore of the lake, we began toclimb a snow-capped ridge. The road was easy at first but theguide warned us that the most difficult bit was there ahead. Wereached this point two days later and found there a steep mountainside thickly set with forest and covered with snow. Beyond it laythe lines of eternal snow--ridges studded with dark rocks set ingreat banks of the white mantle that gleamed bright under the clearsunshine. These were the eastern and highest branches of the TannuOla system. We spent the night beneath this wood and began thepassage of it in the morning. At noon the guide began leading usby zigzags in and out but everywhere our trail was blocked by deepravines, great jams of fallen trees and walls of rock caught intheir mad tobogganings from the mountain top. We struggled forseveral hours, wore out our horses and, all of a sudden, turned upat the place where we had made our last halt. It was very evidentour Soyot had lost his way; and on his face I noticed marked fear.
The old devils of the cursed forest will not allow us to pass, hewhispered with trembling lips. "It is a very ominous sign. Wemust return to Kharga to the Noyon."But I threatened him and he took the lead again evidently withouthope or effort to find the way. Fortunately, one of our party, anUrianhai hunter, noticed the blazes on the trees, the signs of theroad which our guide had lost. Following these, we made our waythrough the wood, came into and crossed a belt of burned larchtimber and beyond this dipped again into a small live forestbordering the bottom of the mountains crowned with the eternalsnows. It grew dark so that we had to camp for the night. Thewind rose high and carried in its grasp a great white sheet of snowthat shut us off from the horizon on every side and buried our campdeep in its folds. Our horses stood round like white ghosts,refusing to eat or to leave the circle round our fire. The windcombed their manes and tails. Through the niches in the mountainsit roared and whistled. From somewhere in the distance came thelow rumble of a pack of wolves, punctuated at intervals by thesharp individual barking that a favorable gust of wind threw upinto high staccato.
As we lay by the fire, the Soyot came over to me and said: "Noyon,come with me to the obo. I want to show you something."We went there and began to ascend the mountain. At the bottom of avery steep slope was laid up a large pile of stones and treetrunks, making a cone of some three metres in height. These oboare the Lamaite sacred signs set up at dangerous places, the altarsto the bad demons, rulers of these places. Passing Soyots andMongols pay tribute to the spirits by hanging on the branches ofthe trees in the obo hatyk, long streamers of blue silk, shredstorn from the lining of their coats or simply tufts of hair cutfrom their horses' manes; or by placing on the stones lumps of meator cups of tea and salt.
Look at it, said the Soyot. "The hatyks are torn off. Thedemons are angry, they will not allow us to pass, Noyon. . . ."He caught my hand and with supplicating voice whispered: "Let usgo back, Noyon; let us! The demons do not wish us to pass theirmountains. For twenty years no one has dared to pass thesemountains and all bold men who have tried have perished here. Thedemons fell upon them with snowstorm and cold. Look! It isbeginning already. . . . Go back to our Noyon, wait for the warmerdays and then. . . ."I did not listen further to the Soyot but turned back to the fire,which I could hardly see through the blinding snow. Fearing ourguide might run away, I ordered a sentry to be stationed for thenight to watch him. Later in the night I was awakened by thesentry, who said to me: "Maybe I am mistaken, but I think I hearda rifle."What could I say to it? Maybe some stragglers like ourselves weregiving a sign of their whereabouts to their lost companions, orperhaps the sentry had mistaken for a rifle shot the sound of somefalling rock or frozen ice and snow. Soon I fell asleep again andsuddenly saw in a dream a very clear vision. Out on the plain,blanketed deep with snow, was moving a line of riders. They wereour pack horses, our Kalmuck and the funny pied horse with theRoman nose. I saw us descending from this snowy plateau into afold in the mountains. Here some larch trees were growing, closeto which gurgled a small, open brook. Afterwards I noticed a fireburning among the trees and then woke up.
It grew light. I shook up the others and asked them to preparequickly so as not to lose time in getting under way. The storm wasraging. The snow blinded us and blotted out all traces of theroad. The cold also became more intense. At last we were in thesaddles. The Soyot went ahead trying to make out the trail. As weworked higher the guide less seldom lost the way. Frequently wefell into deep holes covered with snow; we scrambled up overslippery rocks. At last the Soyot swung his horse round and,coming up to me, announced very positively: "I do not want to diewith you and I will not go further."My first motion was the swing of my whip back over my head. I wasso close to the "Promised Land" of Mongolia that this Soyot,standing in the way of fulfilment of my wishes, seemed to me myworst enemy. But I lowered my flourishing hand. Into my headflashed a quite wild thought.
Listen, I said. "If you move your horses, you will receive abullet in the back and you will perish not at the top of themountain but at the bottom. And now I will tell you what willhappen to us. When we shall have reached these rocks above, thewind will have ceased and the snowstorm will have subsided. Thesun will shine as we cross the snowy plain above and afterwards weshall descend into a small valley where there are larches growingand a stream of open running water. There we shall light our firesand spend the night."The Soyot began to tremble with fright.
Noyon has already passed these mountains of Darkhat Ola? he askedin amazement.
No, I answered, "but last night I had a vision and I know that weshall fortunately win over this ridge.""I will guide you!" exclaimed the Soyot, and, whipping his horse,led the way up the steep slope to the top of the ridge of eternalsnows.
As we were passing along the narrow edge of a precipice, the Soyotstopped and attentively examined the trail.
Today many shod horses have passed here! he cried through theroar of the storm. "Yonder on the snow the lash of a whip has beendragged. These are not Soyots."The solution of this enigma appeared instantly. A volley rang out.
One of my companions cried out, as he caught hold of his rightshoulder; one pack horse fell dead with a bullet behind his ear.
We quickly tumbled out of our saddles, lay down behind the rocksand began to study the situation. We were separated from aparallel spur of the mountain by a small valley about one thousandpaces across. There we made out about thirty riders alreadydismounted and firing at us. I had never allowed any fighting tobe done until the initiative had been taken by the other side. Ourenemy fell upon us unawares and I ordered my company to answer.
Aim at the horses! cried Colonel Ostrovsky. Then he ordered theTartar and Soyot to throw our own animals. We killed six of theirsand probably wounded others, as they got out of control. Also ourrifles took toll of any bold man who showed his head from behindhis rock. We heard the angry shouting and maledictions of Redsoldiers who shot up our position more and more animatedly.
Suddenly I saw our Soyot kick up three of the horses and springinto the saddle of one with the others in leash behind. Behind himsprang up the Tartar and the Kalmuck. I had already drawn my rifleon the Soyot but, as soon as I saw the Tartar and Kalmuck on theirlovely horses behind him, I dropped my gun and knew all was well.
The Reds let off a volley at the trio but they made good theirescape behind the rocks and disappeared. The firing continued moreand more lively and I did not know what to do. From our side weshot rarely, saving our cartridges. Watching carefully the enemy,I noticed two black points on the snow high above the Reds. Theyslowly approached our antagonists and finally were hidden from viewbehind some sharp hillocks. When they emerged from these, theywere right on the edge of some overhanging rocks at the foot ofwhich the Reds lay concealed from us. By this time I had no doubtthat these were the heads of two men. Suddenly these men rose upand I watched them flourish and throw something that was followedby two deafening roars which re-echoed across the mountain valley.
Immediately a third explosion was followed by wild shouts anddisorderly firing among the Reds. Some of the horses rolled downthe slope into the snow below and the soldiers, chased by ourshots, made off as fast as they could down into the valley out ofwhich we had come.
Afterward the Tartar told me the Soyot had proposed to guide themaround behind the Reds to fall upon their rear with the bombs.
When I had bound up the wounded shoulder of the officer and we hadtaken the pack off the killed animal, we continued our journey.
Our position was complicated. We had no doubt that the Reddetachment came up from Mongolia. Therefore, were there Red troopsin Mongolia? What was their strength? Where might we meet them?
Consequently, Mongolia was no more the Promised Land? Very sadthoughts took possession of us.
But Nature pleased us. The wind gradually fell. The storm ceased.
The sun more and more frequently broke through the scudding clouds.
We were traveling upon a high, snow-covered plateau, where in oneplace the wind blew it clean and in another piled it high withdrifts which caught our horses and held them so that they couldhardly extricate themselves at times. We had to dismount and wadethrough the white piles up to our waists and often a man or horsewas down and had to be helped to his feet. At last the descentbegan and at sunset we stopped in the small larch grove, spent thenight at the fire among the trees and drank the tea boiled in thewater carried from the open mountain brook. In various places wecame across the tracks of our recent antagonists.
Everything, even Nature herself and the angry demons of DarkhatOla, had helped us: but we were not gay, because again before uslay the dread uncertainty that threatened us with new and possiblydestructive dangers.
Ulan Taiga with Darkhat Ola lay behind us. We went forward veryrapidly because the Mongol plains began here, free from theimpediments of mountains. Everywhere splendid grazing landsstretched away. In places there were groves of larch. We crossedsome very rapid streams but they were not deep and they had hardbeds. After two days of travel over the Darkhat plain we beganmeeting Soyots driving their cattle rapidly toward the northwestinto Orgarkha Ola. They communicated to us very unpleasant news.
The Bolsheviki from the Irkutsk district had crossed the Mongolianborder, captured the Russian colony at Khathyl on the southernshore of Lake Kosogol and turned, off south toward Muren Kure, aRussian settlement beside a big Lamaite monastery sixty miles southof Kosogol. The Mongols told us there were no Russian troopsbetween Khathyl and Muren Kure, so we decided to pass between thesetwo points to reach Van Kure farther to the east. We took leave ofour Soyot guide and, after having sent three scouts in advance,moved forward. From the mountains around the Kosogol we admiredthe splendid view of this broad Alpine lake. It was set like asapphire in the old gold of the surrounding hills, chased withlovely bits of rich dark forestry. At night we approached Khathylwith great precaution and stopped on the shore of the river thatflows from Kosogol, the Yaga or Egingol. We found a Mongol whoagreed to transport us to the other bank of the frozen stream andto lead us by a safe road between Khathyl and Muren Kure.
Everywhere along the shore of the river were found large obo andsmall shrines to the demons of the stream.
Why are there so many obo? we asked the Mongol.
It is the River of the Devil, dangerous and crafty, replied theMongol. "Two days ago a train of carts went through the ice andthree of them with five soldiers were lost."We started to cross. The surface of the river resembled a thickpiece of looking-glass, being clear and without snow. Our horseswalked very carefully but some fell and floundered before theycould regain their feet. We were leading them by the bridle. Withbowed heads and trembling all over they kept their frightened eyesever on the ice at their feet. I looked down and understood theirfear. Through the cover of one foot of transparent ice one couldclearly see the bottom of the river. Under the lighting of themoon all the stones, the holes and even some of the grasses weredistinctly visible, even though the depth was ten metres and more.
The Yaga rushed under the ice with a furious speed, swirling andmarking its course with long bands of foam and bubbles. Suddenly Ijumped and stopped as though fastened to the spot. Along thesurface of the river ran the boom of a cannon, followed by a secondand a third.
Quicker, quicker! cried our Mongol, waving us forward with hishand.
Another cannon boom and a crack ran right close to us. The horsesswung back on their haunches in protest, reared and fell, many ofthem striking their heads severely on the ice. In a second itopened up two feet wide, so that I could follow its jagged coursealong the surface. Immediately up out of the opening the waterspread over the ice with a rush.
Hurry, hurry! shouted the guide.
With great difficulty we forced our horses to jump over thiscleavage and to continue on further. They trembled and disobeyedand only the strong lash forced them to forget this panic of fearand go on.
When we were safe on the farther bank and well into the woods, ourMongol guide recounted to us how the river at times opens in thismysterious way and leaves great areas of clear water. All the menand animals on the river at such times must perish. The furiouscurrent of cold water will always carry them down under the ice.
At other times a crack has been known to pass right under a horseand, where he fell in with his front feet in the attempt to getback to the other side, the crack has closed up and ground his legsor feet right off.
The valley of Kosogol is the crater of an extinct volcano. Itsoutlines may be followed from the high west shore of the lake.
However, the Plutonic force still acts and, asserting the glory ofthe Devil, forces the Mongols to build obo and offer sacrifices athis shrines. We spent all the night and all the next day hurryingaway eastward to avoid a meeting with the Reds and seeking goodpasturage for our horses. At about nine o'clock in the evening afire shone out of the distance. My friend and I made toward itwith the feeling that it was surely a Mongol yurta beside which wecould camp in safety. We traveled over a mile before making outdistinctly the lines of a group of yurtas. But nobody came out tomeet us and, what astonished us more, we were not surrounded by theangry black Mongolian dogs with fiery eyes. Still, from thedistance we had seen the fire and so there must be someone there.
We dismounted from our horses and approached on foot. From out ofthe yurta rushed two Russian soldiers, one of whom shot at me withhis pistol but missed me and wounded my horse in the back throughthe saddle. I brought him to earth with my Mauser and the otherwas killed by the butt end of my friend's rifle. We examined thebodies and found in their pockets the papers of soldiers of theSecond Squadron of the Communist Interior Defence. Here we spentthe night. The owners of the yurtas had evidently run away, forthe Red soldiers had collected and packed in sacks the property ofthe Mongols. Probably they were just planning to leave, as theywere fully dressed. We acquired two horses, which we found in thebushes, two rifles and two automatic pistols with cartridges. Inthe saddle bags we also found tea, tobacco, matches and cartridges--all of these valuable supplies to help us keep further hold on ourlives.
Two days later we were approaching the shore of the River Uri whenwe met two Russian riders, who were the Cossacks of a certainAtaman Sutunin, acting against the Bolsheviki in the valley of theRiver Selenga. They were riding to carry a message from Sutunin toKaigorodoff, chief of the Anti-Bolsheviki in the Altai region.
They informed us that along the whole Russian-Mongolian border theBolshevik troops were scattered; also that Communist agitators hadpenetrated to Kiakhta, Ulankom and Kobdo and had persuaded theChinese authorities to surrender to the Soviet authorities all therefugees from Russia. We knew that in the neighborhood of Urga andVan Kure engagements were taking place between the Chinese troopsand the detachments of the Anti-Bolshevik Russian General BaronUngern Sternberg and Colonel Kazagrandi, who were fighting for theindependence of Outer Mongolia. Baron Ungern had now been twicedefeated, so that the Chinese were carrying on high-handed in Urga,suspecting all foreigners of having relations with the RussianGeneral.
We realized that the whole situation was sharply reversed. Theroute to the Pacific was closed. Reflecting very carefully overthe problem, I decided that we had but one possible exit left. Wemust avoid all Mongolian cities with Chinese administration, crossMongolia from north to south, traverse the desert in the southernpart of the Principality of Jassaktu Khan, enter the Gobi in thewestern part of Inner Mongolia, strike as rapidly as possiblethrough sixty miles of Chinese territory in the Province of Kansuand penetrate into Tibet. Here I hoped to search out one of theEnglish Consuls and with his help to reach some English port inIndia. I understood thoroughly all the difficulties incident tosuch an enterprise but I had no other choice. It only remained tomake this last foolish attempt or to perish without doubt at thehands of the Boisheviki or languish in a Chinese prison. When Iannounced my plan to my companions, without in any way hiding fromthem all its dangers and quixotism, all of them answered veryquickly and shortly: "Lead us! We will follow."One circumstance was distinctly in our favor. We did not fearhunger, for we had some supplies of tea, tobacco and matches and asurplus of horses, saddles, rifles, overcoats and boots, which werean excellent currency for exchange. So then we began to initiatethe plan of the new expedition. We should start to the south,leaving the town of Uliassutai on our right and taking thedirection of Zaganluk, then pass through the waste lands of thedistrict of Balir of Jassaktu Khan, cross the Naron Khuhu Gobi andstrike for the mountains of Boro. Here we should be able to take along rest to recuperate the strength of our horses and ofourselves. The second section of our journey would be the passagethrough the western part of Inner Mongolia, through the LittleGobi, through the lands of the Torguts, over the Khara Mountains,across Kansu, where our road must be chosen to the west of theChinese town of Suchow. From there we should have to enter theDominion of Kuku Nor and then work on southward to the head watersof the Yangtze River. Beyond this I had but a hazy notion, whichhowever I was able to verify from a map of Asia in the possessionof one of the officers, to the effect that the mountain chains tothe west of the sources of the Yangtze separated that river systemfrom the basin of the Brahmaputra in Tibet Proper, where I expectedto be able to find English assistance.