We were led to the wounded chief.  There he lay on the saddle cloths among the rocks, represented to us to be a Tibetan but I at once recognized him from his cast of countenance to be a Sart or Turcoman, probably from the southern part of Turkestan.  He looked at me with a begging and frightened gaze.  Examining him, I found the bullet had passed through his chest from left to right, that he had lost much blood and was very weak.  Conscientiously I did all that I could for him.  In the first place I tried on my own tongue all the medicines to be used on him, even the iodoform, in order to demonstrate that there was no poison among them.  I cauterized the wound with iodine, sprinkled it with iodoform and applied the bandages.  I ordered that the wounded man be not touched nor moved and that he be left right where he lay.  Then I taught a Tibetan how the dressing must be changed and left with him medicated cotton, bandages and a little iodoform.  To the patient, in whom the fever was already developing, I gave a big dose of aspirin and left several tablets of quinine with them.  Afterwards, addressing myself to the bystanders through my Kalmuck, I said very solemnly: 

“The wound is very dangerous but I gave to your Chief very strong medicine and hope that he will recover.  One condition, however, is necessary:  the bad demons which have rushed to his side for his unwarranted attack upon us innocent travelers will instantly kill him, if another shot is let off against us.  You must not even keep a single cartridge in your rifles.”

With these words I ordered the Kalmuck to empty his rifle and I, at the same time, took all the cartridges out of my Mauser.  The Tibetans instantly and very servilely followed my example.

“Remember that I told you:  ’Eleven days and eleven nights do not move from this place and do not charge your rifles.’  Otherwise the demon of death will snatch off your Chief and will pursue you!”—­and with these words I solemnly drew forth and raised above their heads the ring of Hutuktu Narabanchi.

I returned to my companions and calmed them.  I told them we were safe against further attack from the robbers and that we must only guess the way to reach Mongolia.  Our horses were so exhausted and thin that on their bones we could have hung our overcoats.  We spent two days here, during which time I frequently visited my patient.  It also gave us opportunity to bandage our own fortunately light wounds and to secure a little rest; though unfortunately I had nothing but a jackknife with which to dig the bullet out of my left calf and the shoemaker’s accessories from my right ankle.  Inquiring from the brigands about the caravan roads, we soon made our way out to one of the main routes and had the good fortune to meet there the caravan of the young Mongol Prince Pounzig, who was on a holy mission carrying a message from the Living Buddha in Urga to the Dalai Lama in Lhasa.  He helped us to purchase horses, camels and food.