road to the Divinity.
Revolution is an infectious disease and Europe making the treaty with
Moscow deceived itself and the other parts of the world. The Great
Spirit put at the threshold of our lives Karma, who knows neither anger
nor pardon. He will reckon the account, whose total will be famine,
destruction, the death of culture, of glory, of honor and of spirit,
the death of states and the death of peoples. I see already this horror,
this dark, mad destruction of humanity."

The door of the yurta suddenly swung open and an adjutant snapped into a
position of attention and salute.

"Why do you enter a room by force?" the General exclaimed in anger.

"Your Excellency, our outpost on the border has caught a Bolshevik
reconnaissance party and brought them here."

The Baron arose. His eyes sparkled and his face contracted with spasms.

"Bring them in front of my yurta!" he ordered.

All was forgotten--the inspired speech, the penetrating voice--all were
sunk in the austere order of the severe commander. The Baron put on his
cap, caught up the bamboo tashur which he always carried with him and
rushed from the yurta. I followed him out. There in front of the yurta
stood six Red soldiers surrounded by the Cossacks.

The Baron stopped and glared sharply at them for several minutes. In his
face one could see the strong play of his thoughts. Afterwards he turned
away from them, sat down on the doorstep of the Chinese house and for a
long time was buried in thought. Then he rose, walked over to them and,
with an evident show of decisiveness in his movements, touched all the
prisoners on the shoulder with his tashur and said: "You to the left and
you to the right!" as he divided the squad into two sections, four on
the right and two on the left.

"Search those two! They must be commissars!" commanded the Baron and,
turning to the other four, asked: "Are you peasants mobilized by the
Bolsheviki?"

"Just so, Your Excellency!" cried the frightened soldiers.

"Go to the Commandant and tell him that I have ordered you to be
enlisted in my troops!"

On the two to the left they found passports of Commissars of the
Communist Political Department. The General knitted his brows and slowly
pronounced the following:

"Beat them to death with sticks!"

He turned and entered the yurta. After this our conversation did not
flow readily and so I left the Baron to himself.

After dinner in the Russian firm where I was staying some