so a laconic answer. They then said that they were a detachment
of troops from Baron Ungern under the command of Captain Vandaloff. "I
am Captain Bezrodnoff, military judge."

Suddenly he laughed loudly. His insolent, stupid face did not please me
and, bowing to the officers, I ordered my riders to move.

"Oh no!" he remonstrated, as he blocked the road again. "I cannot allow
you to go farther. I want to have a long and serious conversation with
you and you will have to come back to Zain for it."

I protested and called attention to the letter of Colonel Kazagrandi,
only to hear Bezrodnoff answer with coldness:

"This letter is a matter of Colonel Kazagrandi's and to bring you back
to Zain and talk with you is my affair. Now give me your weapon."

But I could not yield to this demand, even though death were threatened.

"Listen," I said. "Tell me frankly. Is yours really a detachment
fighting against the Boisheviki or is it a Red contingent?"

"No, I assure you!" replied the Buriat officer Vandaloff, approaching
me. "We have already been fighting the Bolsheviki for three years."

"Then I cannot hand you my weapon," I calmly replied. "I brought it from
Soviet Siberia, have had many fights with this faithful weapon and now
I am to be disarmed by White officers! It is an offence that I cannot
allow."

With these words I threw my rifle and my Mauser into the stream. The
officers were confused. Bezrodnoff turned red with anger.

"I freed you and myself from humiliation," I explained.

Bezrodnoff in silence turned his horse, the whole detachment of three
hundred men passed immediately before me and only the last two riders
stopped, ordered my Mongols to turn my cart round and then fell in
behind my little group. So I was arrested! One of the horsemen behind me
was a Russian and he told me that Bezrodnoff carried with him many death
decrees. I was sure that mine was among them.

Stupid, very stupid! What was the use of fighting one's way through Red
detachments, of being frozen and hungry, of almost perishing in Tibet
only to die from a bullet of one of Bezrodnoff's Mongols? For such a
pleasure it was not worth while to travel so long and so far! In every
Siberian "Cheka" I could have had this end so joyfully accorded me.

When we arrived at Zain Shabi, my luggage was examined and Bezrodnoff
began to question me in minutest detail about the events in Uliassutai.
We talked about three hours, during which I tried to