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.