The great conqueror, Jenghiz Khan, the son of sad, stern, severeMongolia, according to an old Mongolian legend "mounted to the topof Karasu Togol and with his eyes of an eagle looked to the westand the east. In the west he saw whole seas of human blood overwhich floated a bloody fog that blanketed all the horizon. Therehe could not discern his fate. But the gods ordered him to proceedto the west, leading with him all his warriors and Mongoliantribes. To the east he saw wealthy towns, shining temples, crowdsof happy people, gardens and fields of rich earth, all of whichpleased the great Mongol. He said to his sons: 'There in the westI shall be fire and sword, destroyer, avenging Fate; in the east Ishall come as the merciful, great builder, bringing happiness tothe people and to the land.'"Thus runs the legend. I found much of truth in it. I had passedover much of his road to the west and always identified it by theold tombs and the impertinent monuments of stone to the mercilessconqueror. I saw also a part of the eastern road of the hero, overwhich he traveled to China. Once when we were making a trip out ofUliassutai we stopped the night in Djirgalantu. The old host ofthe ourton, knowing me from my previous trip to Narabanchi,welcomed us very kindly and regaled us with stories during ourevening meal. Among other things he led us out of the yurta andpointed out a mountain peak brightly lighted by the full moon andrecounted to us the story of one of the sons of Jenghiz, afterwardsEmperor of China, Indo-China and Mongolia, who had been attractedby the beautiful scenery and grazing lands of Djirgalantu and hadfounded here a town. This was soon left without inhabitants, forthe Mongol is a nomad who cannot live in artificial cities. Theplain is his house and the world his town. For a time this townwitnessed battles between the Chinese and the troops of JenghizKhan but afterwards it was forgotten. At present there remainsonly a half-ruined tower, from which in the early days the heavyrocks were hurled down upon the heads of the enemy, and thedilapidated gate of Kublai, the grandson of Jenghiz Khan. Againstthe greenish sky drenched with the rays of the moon stood out thejagged line of the mountains and the black silhouette of the towerwith its loopholes, through which the alternate scudding clouds andlight flashed.
When our party left Uliassutai, we traveled on leisurely, makingthirty-five to fifty miles a day until we were within sixty milesof Zain Shabi, where I took leave of the others to go south to thisplace in order to keep my engagement with Colonel Kazagrandi. Thesun had just risen as my single Mongol guide and I without any packanimals began to ascend the low, timbered ridges, from the top ofwhich I caught the last glimpses of my companions disappearing downthe valley. I had no idea then of the many and almost fataldangers which I should have to pass through during this trip bymyself, which was destined to prove much longer than I hadanticipated. As we were crossing a small river with sandy shores,my Mongol guide told me how the Mongolians came there during thesummer to wash gold, in spite of the prohibitions of the Lamas.
The manner of working the placer was very primitive but the resultstestified clearly to the richness of these sands. The Mongol liesflat on the ground, brushes the sand aside with a feather and keepsblowing into the little excavation so formed. From time to time hewets his finger and picks up on it a small bit of grain gold or adiminutive nugget and drops these into a little bag hanging underhis chin. In such manner this primitive dredge wins about aquarter of an ounce or five dollars' worth of the yellow metal perday.
I determined to make the whole distance to Zain Shabi in a singleday. At the ourtons I hurried them through the catching andsaddling of the horses as fast as I could. At one of thesestations about twenty-five miles from the monastery the Mongolsgave me a wild horse, a big, strong white stallion. Just as I wasabout 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 inthe Ma-chu fight. The leg soon began to swell and ache. At sunsetI made out the first Russian and Chinese buildings and later themonastery at Zain. We dropped into the valley of a small streamwhich flowed along a mountain on whose peak were set white rocksforming the words of a Tibetan prayer. At the bottom of thismountain was a cemetery for the Lamas, that is, piles of bones anda pack of dogs. At last the monastery lay right below us, a commonsquare surrounded with wooden fences. In the middle rose a largetemple quite different from all those of western Mongolia, not inthe Chinese but in the Tibetan style of architecture, a whitebuilding with perpendicular walls and regular rows of windows inblack frames, with a roof of black tiles and with a most unusualdamp course laid between the stone walls and the roof timbers andmade of bundles of twigs from a Tibetan tree which never rots.
Another small quadrangle lay a little to the east and containedRussian buildings connected with the monastery by telephone.
"That is the house of the Living God of Zain," the Mongolexplained, pointing to this smaller quadrangle. "He likes Russiancustoms and manners."To the north on a conical-shaped hill rose a tower that recalledthe Babylonian zikkurat. It was the temple where the ancient booksand manuscripts were kept and the broken ornaments and objects usedin the religious ceremonies together with the robes of deceasedHutuktus preserved. A sheer cliff rose behind this museum, whichit was impossible for one to climb. On the face of this werecarved images of the Lamaite gods, scattered about without anyspecial order. They were from one to two and a half metres high.
At night the monks lighted lamps before them, so that one could seethese images of the gods and goddesses from far away.
We entered the trading settlement. The streets were deserted andfrom the windows only women and children looked out. I stoppedwith a Russian firm whose other branches I had known throughout thecountry. Much to my astonishment they welcomed me as anacquaintance. It appeared that the Hutuktu of Narabanchi had sentword to all the monasteries that, whenever I should come, they mustall render me aid, inasmuch as I had saved the Narabanchi Monasteryand, by the clear signs of the divinations, I was an incarnateBuddha beloved of the Gods. This letter of this kindly disposedHutuktu helped me very much--perhaps I should even say more, thatit saved me from death. The hospitality of my hosts proved ofgreat and much needed assistance to me because my injured leg hadswelled and was aching severely. When I took off my boot, I foundmy foot all covered with blood and my old wound re-opened by theblow. A felcher was called to assist me with treatment andbandaging, so that I was able to walk again three days later.
I did not find Colonel Kazagrandi at Zain Shabi. After destroyingthe Chinese gamins who had killed the local Commandant, he hadreturned via Van Kure. The new Commandment handed me the letter ofKazagrandi, who very cordially asked me to visit him after I hadrested in Zain. A Mongolian document was enclosed in the lettergiving me the right to receive horses and carts from herd to herdby means of the "urga," which I shall later describe and whichopened for me an entirely new vista of Mongolian life and countrythat I should otherwise never have seen. The making of thisjourney of over two hundred miles was a very disagreeable task forme; but evidently Kazagrandi, whom I had never met, had seriousreasons 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 andextraordinary appearance of a god I could not imagine. He was ashort, thin young man of twenty or twenty-two years with quick,nervous movements and with an expressive face lighted anddominated, like the countenances of all the Mongol gods, by large,frightened eyes. He was dressed in a blue silk Russian uniformwith yellow epaulets with the sacred sign of Pandita Hutuktu, inblue silk trousers and high boots, all surmounted by a whiteAstrakhan cap with a yellow pointed top. At his girdle a revolverand sword were slung. I did not know quite what to think of thisdisguised god. He took a cup of tea from the host and began totalk with a mixture of Mongolian and Russian.
"Not far from my Kure is located the ancient monastery of ErdeniDzu, erected on the site of the ruins of Karakorum, the ancientcapital of Jenghiz Khan and afterwards frequently visited by KublaiKahn for sanctuary and rest after his labors as Emperor of China,India, Persia, Afghanistan, Mongolia and half of Europe. Now onlyruins and tombs remain to mark this former 'Garden of BeatificDays.' The pious monks of Baroun Kure found in the undergroundchambers of the ruins manuscripts that were much older than ErdeniDzu itself. In these my Maramba Meetchik-Atak found the predictionthat 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 thelands of Jenghiz Khan and have on his chest the natural sign of theswastika--such Hutuktu would be honored by the people in the daysof a great war and trouble, would begin the fight with the servantsof Red evil and would conquer them and bring order into theuniverse, celebrating this happy day in the city with white templesand with the songs of ten thousand bells. It is I, PanditaHutuktu! The signs and symbols have met in me. I shall destroythe Bolsheviki, the bad 'servants of the Red evil,' and in Moscow Ishall rest from my glorious and great work. Therefore I have askedColonel Kazagrandi to enlist me in the troops of Baron Ungern andgive me the chance to fight. The Lamas seek to prevent me fromgoing but who is the god here?"He very sternly stamped his foot, while the Lamas and guard whoaccompanied him reverently bowed their heads.
As he left he presented me with a hatyk and, rummaging through mysaddle bags, I found a single article that might be consideredworthy as a gift for a Hutuktu, a small bottle of osmiridium, thisrare, natural concomitant of platinum.
"This is the most stable and hardest of metals," I said. "Let itbe the sign of your glory and strength, Hutuktu!"The Pandita thanked me and invited me to visit him. When I hadrecovered a little, I went to his house, which was arranged inEuropean style: electric lights, push bells and telephone. Hefeasted me with wine and sweets and introduced me to two veryinteresting personages, one an old Tibetan surgeon with a facedeeply pitted by smallpox, a heavy thick nose and crossed eyes. Hewas a peculiar surgeon, consecrated in Tibet. His duties consistedin treating and curing Hutuktus when they were ill and . . . inpoisoning them when they became too independent or extravagant orwhen their policies were not in accord with the wishes of theCouncil of Lamas of the Living Buddha or the Dalai Lama. By nowPandita Hutuktu probably rests in eternal peace on the top of somesacred mountain, sent thither by the solicitude of hisextraordinary court physician. The martial spirit of PanditaHutuktu was very unwelcome to the Council of Lamas, who protestedagainst the adventuresomeness of this "Living God."Pandita liked wine and cards. One day when he was in the companyof Russians and dressed in a European suit, some Lamas came runningto 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 goneout from his abode and was playing cards! Without any confusionPandita drew his red mantle of the Hutuktu over his European coatand long grey trousers an............