My first motion was the swing of my whip back over my head.  I was so close to the “Promised Land” of Mongolia that this Soyot, standing in the way of fulfilment of my wishes, seemed to me my worst enemy.  But I lowered my flourishing hand.  Into my head flashed a quite wild thought.

“Listen,” I said.  “If you move your horses, you will receive a bullet in the back and you will perish not at the top of the mountain but at the bottom.  And now I will tell you what will happen to us.  When we shall have reached these rocks above, the wind will have ceased and the snowstorm will have subsided.  The sun will shine as we cross the snowy plain above and afterwards we shall descend into a small valley where there are larches growing and a stream of open running water.  There we shall light our fires and spend the night.”

The Soyot began to tremble with fright.

“Noyon has already passed these mountains of Darkhat Ola?” he asked in amazement.

“No,” I answered, “but last night I had a vision and I know that we shall fortunately win over this ridge.”

“I will guide you!” exclaimed the Soyot, and, whipping his horse, led the way up the steep slope to the top of the ridge of eternal snows.

As we were passing along the narrow edge of a precipice, the Soyot stopped and attentively examined the trail.

“Today many shod horses have passed here!” he cried through the roar of the storm.  “Yonder on the snow the lash of a whip has been dragged.  These are not Soyots.”

The solution of this enigma appeared instantly.  A volley rang out.  One of my companions cried out, as he caught hold of his right shoulder; one pack horse fell dead with a bullet behind his ear.  We quickly tumbled out of our saddles, lay down behind the rocks and began to study the situation.  We were separated from a parallel spur of the mountain by a small valley about one thousand paces across.  There we made out about thirty riders already dismounted and firing at us.  I had never allowed any fighting to be done until the initiative had been taken by the other side.  Our enemy fell upon us unawares and I ordered my company to answer.

“Aim at the horses!” cried Colonel Ostrovsky.  Then he ordered the Tartar and Soyot to throw our own animals.  We killed six of theirs and probably wounded others, as they got out of control.  Also our rifles took toll of any bold man who showed his head from behind his rock.  We heard the angry shouting and maledictions of Red soldiers who shot up our position more and more animatedly.

Suddenly I saw our Soyot kick up three of the horses and spring into the saddle of one with the others in leash behind.  Behind him sprang up the Tartar and the Kalmuck.  I had already drawn my rifle on the Soyot but, as soon as I saw the Tartar and Kalmuck on their lovely horses behind him, I dropped my gun and knew all was well.  The Reds let off a volley at the trio but they made good their escape