However, he was not willing to give their names, explaining his refusal by citing the Law of Buddhist lands against pronouncing the name of one’s father, teacher or chief.  Afterwards I found out that in North Tibet there exists the same custom as in North China.  Here and there bands of hunghutze wander about.  They appear at the headquarters of the leading trading firms and at the monasteries, claim tribute and after their collections become the protectors of the district.  Probably this Tibetan monastery had in this band just such protectors.

When we continued our trip, we frequently noticed single horsemen far away or on the horizon, apparently studying our movements with care.  All our attempts to approach them and enter into conversation with them were entirely unsuccessful.  On their speedy little horses they disappeared like shadows.  As we reached the steep and difficult Pass on the Hamshan and were preparing to spend the night there, suddenly far up on a ridge above us appeared about forty horsemen with entirely white mounts and without formal introduction or warning spattered us with a hail of bullets.  Two of our officers fell with a cry.  One had been instantly killed while the other lived some few minutes.  I did not allow my men to shoot but instead I raised a white flag and started forward with the Kalmuck for a parley.  At first they fired two shots at us but then ceased firing and sent down a group of riders from the ridge toward us.  We began the parley.  The Tibetans explained that Hamshan is a holy mountain and that here one must not spend the night, advising us to proceed farther where we could consider ourselves in safety.  They inquired from us whence we came and whither we were going, stated in answer to our information about the purpose of our journey that they knew the Bolsheviki and considered them the liberators of the people of Asia from the yoke of the white race.  I certainly did not want to begin a political quarrel with them and so turned back to our companions.  Riding down the slope toward our camp, I waited momentarily for a shot in the back but the Tibetan hunghutze did not shoot.

We moved forward, leaving among the stones the bodies of two of our companions as sad tribute to the difficulties and dangers of our journey.  We rode all night, with our exhausted horses constantly stopping and some lying down under us, but we forced them ever onward.  At last, when the sun was at its zenith, we finally halted.  Without unsaddling our horses, we gave them an opportunity to lie down for a little rest.  Before us lay a broad, swampy plain, where was evidently the sources of the river Ma-chu.  Not far beyond lay the Lake of Aroung Nor.  We made our fire of cattle dung and began boiling water for our tea.  Again without any warning the bullets came raining in from all sides.  Immediately we took cover behind convenient rocks and waited developments.  The firing became faster and closer, the raiders appeared