shed how he could keep himself inside these trousers, for they
had such large holes that they were more of a net than trousers, a net
through which a small shark could have slipped.

"Sell me," he whispered, with a question in his voice.

"I cannot, for I need them myself," I answered decisively.

He reflected for a few minutes and afterward, approaching me, said: "Let
us go out doors and talk. Here it is inconvenient."

We went outside. "Now, what about it?" he began. "You are going into
Urianhai. There the Soviet bank-notes have no value and you will not
be able to buy anything, where there are plenty of sables, fox-skins,
ermine and gold dust to be purchased, which they very willingly exchange
for rifles and cartridges. You have each of you a rifle and I will
give you one more rifle with a hundred cartridges if you give me the
trousers."

"We do not need weapons. We are protected by our documents," I answered,
as though I did not understand.

"But no," he interrupted, "you can change that rifle there into furs and
gold. I shall give you that rifle outright."

"Ah, that's it, is it? But it's very little for those trousers. Nowhere
in Russia can you now find trousers. All Russia goes without trousers
and for your rifle I should receive a sable and what use to me is one
skin?"

Word by word I attained to my desire. The militia-man got my trousers
and I received a rifle with one hundred cartridges and two automatic
pistols with forty cartridges each. We were armed now so that we could
defend ourselves. Moreover, I persuaded the happy possessor of my
trousers to give us a permit to carry the weapons. Then the law and
force were both on our side.

In a distant village we bought three horses, two for riding and one for
packing, engaged a guide, purchased dried bread, meat, salt and butter
and, after resting twenty-four hours, began our trip up the Amyl toward
the Sayan Mountains on the border of Urianhai. There we hoped not to
meet Bolsheviki, either sly or silly. In three days from the mouth of
the Tuba we passed the last Russian village near the Mongolian-Urianhai
border, three days of constant contact with a lawless population, of
continuous danger and of the ever present possibility of fortuitous
death. Only iron will power, presence of mind and dogged tenacity
brought us through all the dangers and saved us from rolling back down
our precipice of adventure, at whose foot lay so many others who
had failed to