with flame and see the creature of fire, quick and ferocious, eternally fighting, melting and hammering metals in the depths of planets, boiling the water for geysers and springs, melting the rocks and pushing out molten streams over the surface of the earth through the holes in the mountains.  Others rush together with the ever elusive, infinitesimally small, transparent creatures of the air and penetrate into the mysteries of their existence and into the purposes of their life.  Others slip into the depths of the seas and observe the kingdom of the wise creatures of the water, who transport and spread genial warmth all over the earth, ruling the winds, waves and storms. . . .  In Erdeni Dzu formerly lived Pandita Hutuktu, who had come from Agharti.  As he was dying, he told about the time when he lived according to the will of the Goro on a red star in the east, floated in the ice-covered ocean and flew among the stormy fires in the depths of the earth.”

These are the tales which I heard in the Mongolian yurtas of Princes and in the Lamaite monasteries.  These stories were all related in a solemn tone which forbade challenge and doubt.

Mystery. . . .

CHAPTER XLVII

THE KING OF THE WORLD BEFORE THE FACE OF GOD

During my stay in Urga I tried to find an explanation of this legend about the King of the World.  Of course, the Living Buddha could tell me most of all and so I endeavored to get the story from him.  In a conversation with him I mentioned the name of the King of the World.  The old Pontiff sharply turned his head toward me and fixed upon me his immobile, blind eyes.  Unwillingly I became silent.  Our silence was a long one and after it the Pontiff continued the conversation in such a way that I understood he did not wish to accept the suggestion of my reference.  On the faces of the others present I noticed expressions of astonishment and fear produced by my words, and especially was this true of the custodian of the library of the Bogdo Khan.  One can readily understand that all this only made me the more anxious to press the pursuit.

As I was leaving the study of the Bogdo Hutuktu, I met the librarian who had stepped out ahead of me and asked him if he would show me the library of the Living Buddha and used a very simple, sly trick with him.

“Do you know, my dear Lama,” I said, “once I rode in the plain at the hour when the King of the World spoke with God and I felt the impressive majesty of this moment.”

To my astonishment the old Lama very quietly answered me:  “It is not right that the Buddhist and our Yellow Faith should conceal it.  The acknowledgment of the existence of the most holy and most powerful man, of the blissful kingdom, of the great temple of sacred science is such a consolation to our sinful hearts and our corrupt lives that to conceal it from humankind is a sin. . . .  Well, listen,”