on. However, now he was rendered
harmless, because the road between him and Irkutsk was interrupted.
Still from Biisk in the Altai country had just come a very important
commissar.

"Gorokoff?" I asked.

"That's what he calls himself," replied the old fellow; "but I am also
from Biisk and I know everyone there. His real name is Pouzikoff and the
short-haired girl with him is his mistress. He is the commissar of the
'Cheka' and she is the agent of this establishment. Last August the two
of them shot with their revolvers seventy bound officers from Kolchak's
army. Villainous, cowardly murderers! Now they have come here for a
reconnaissance. They wanted to stay in my house but I knew them too well
and refused them place."

"And you do not fear him?" I asked, remembering the different words and
glances of these people as they sat at the table in the station.

"No," answered the old man. "I know how to defend myself and my family
and I have a protector too--my son, such a shot, a rider and a fighter
as does not exist in all Mongolia. I am very sorry that you will not
make the acquaintance of my boy. He has gone off to the herds and will
return only tomorrow evening."

We took most cordial leave of each other and I promised to stop with him
on my return.

"Well, what yarns did Bobroff tell you about us?" was the question with
which Kanine and Gorokoff met me when I came back to the station.

"Nothing about you," I answered, "because he did not even want to speak
with me when he found out that I was staying in your house. What is the
trouble between you?" I asked of them, expressing complete astonishment
on my face.

"It is an old score," growled Gorokoff.

"A malicious old churl," Kanine added in agreement, the while the
frightened, suffering-laden eyes of his wife again gave expression
to terrifying horror, as if she momentarily expected a deadly blow.
Gorokoff began to pack his luggage in preparation for the journey with
us the following morning. We prepared our simple beds in an adjoining
room and went to sleep. I whispered to my friend to keep his revolver
handy for anything that might happen but he only smiled as he dragged
his revolver and his ax from his coat to place them under his pillow.

"This people at the outset seemed to me very suspicious," he whispered.
"They are cooking up something crooked. Tomorrow I shall ride behind
this Gorokoff and shall prepare for him a very faithful one of my
bullets, a