“Besides that, it is very dangerous,” he said, “because Kobdo will be massacred and burned.  I know this positively.”

When he heard of our unsuccessful attempt to pass through Tibet, he became attentive and very sympathetic in his bearing toward us and, with evident feeling of regret, expressed himself strongly: 

“Only I could have helped you in this enterprise, but not the Narabanchi Hutuktu.  With my laissez-passer you could have gone anywhere in Tibet.  I am Tushegoun Lama.”

Tushegoun Lama!  How many extraordinary tales I had heard about him.  He is a Russian Kalmuck, who because of his propaganda work for the independence of the Kalmuck people made the acquaintance of many Russian prisons under the Czar and, for the same cause, added to his list under the Bolsheviki.  He escaped to Mongolia and at once attained to great influence among the Mongols.  It was no wonder, for he was a close friend and pupil of the Dalai Lama in Potala (Lhasa), was the most learned among the Lamites, a famous thaumaturgist and doctor.  He occupied an almost independent position in his relationship with the Living Buddha and achieved to the leadership of all the old wandering tribes of Western Mongolia and Zungaria, even extending his political domination over the Mongolian tribes of Turkestan.  His influence was irresistible, based as it was on his great control of mysterious science, as he expressed it; but I was also told that it has its foundation largely in the panicky fear which he could produce in the Mongols.  Everyone who disobeyed his orders perished.  Such an one never knew the day or the hour when, in his yurta or beside his galloping horse on the plains, the strange and powerful friend of the Dalai Lama would appear.  The stroke of a knife, a bullet or strong fingers strangling the neck like a vise accomplished the justice of the plans of this miracle worker.

Without the walls of the yurta the wind whistled and roared and drove the frozen snow sharply against the stretched felt.  Through the roar of the wind came the sound of many voices in mingled shouting, wailing and laughter.  I felt that in such surroundings it were not difficult to dumbfound a wandering nomad with miracles, because Nature herself had prepared the setting for it.  This thought had scarcely time to flash through my mind before Tushegoun Lama suddenly raised his head, looked sharply at me and said: 

“There is very much unknown in Nature and the skill of using the unknown produces the miracle; but the power is given to few.  I want to prove it to you and you may tell me afterwards whether you have seen it before or not.”

He stood up, pushed back the sleeves of his yellow garment, seized his knife and strode across to the shepherd.

“Michik, stand up!” he ordered.

When the shepherd had risen, the Lama quickly unbuttoned his coat and bared the man’s chest.  I could not yet understand what was his intention, when suddenly the Tushegoun with all his force struck his knife into the chest of the shepherd.  The Mongol fell all covered with blood, a splash of which I noticed on the yellow silk of the Lama’s coat.