“Sayn—Good evening!”
We turned around from the brazier to the door and saw a medium height, very heavy set Mongol in deerskin overcoat and cap with side flaps and the long, wide tying strings of the same material. Under his girdle lay the same large knife in the green sheath which we had seen on the departing horseman.
“Amoursayn,” we answered.
He quickly untied his girdle and laid aside his overcoat. He stood before us in a wonderful gown of silk, yellow as beaten gold and girt with a brilliant blue sash. His cleanly shaven face, short hair, red coral rosary on the left hand and his yellow garment proved clearly that before us stood some high Lama Priest,—with a big Colt under his blue sash!
I turned to my host and Tzeren and read in their faces fear and veneration. The stranger came over to the brazier and sat down.
“Let’s speak Russian,” he said and took a bit of meat.
The conversation began. The stranger began to find fault with the Government of the Living Buddha in Urga.
“There they liberate Mongolia, capture Urga, defeat the Chinese army and here in the west they give us no news of it. We are without action here while the Chinese kill our people and steal from them. I think that Bogdo Khan might send us envoys. How is it the Chinese can send their envoys from Urga and Kiakhta to Kobdo, asking for assistance, and the Mongol Government cannot do it? Why?”
“Will the Chinese send help to Urga?” I asked.
Our guest laughed hoarsely and said: “I caught all the envoys, took away their letters and then sent them back . . . into the ground.”