hat of the Baron.

"You will not die but you will be incarnated in the highest form of
being. Remember that, Incarnated God of War, Khan of grateful Mongolia!"
I understood that the Living Buddha blessed the "Bloody General" before
death.

During the next two days I had the opportunity to visit the Living
Buddha three times together with a friend of the Bogdo, the Buriat
Prince Djam Bolon. I shall describe these visits in Part IV.

Baron Ungern organized the trip for me and my party to the shore of the
Pacific. We were to go on camels to northern Manchuria, because there
it was easy to avoid cavilling with the Chinese authorities so badly
oriented in the international relationship with Poland. Having sent a
letter from Uliassutai to the French Legation at Peking and bearing with
me a letter from the Chinese Chamber of Commerce, expressing thanks
for the saving of Uliassutai from a pogrom, I intended to make for the
nearest station on the Chinese Eastern Railway and from there proceed to
Peking. The Danish merchant E. V. Olufsen was to have traveled out with
me and also a learned Lama Turgut, who was headed for China.

Never shall I forget the night of May 19th to 20th of 1921! After dinner
Baron Ungern proposed that we go to the yurta of Djam Bolon, whose
acquaintance I had made on the first day after my arrival in Urga.
His yurta was placed on a raised wooden platform in a compound located
behind the Russian settlement. Two Buriat officers met us and took us
in. Djam Bolon was a man of middle age, tall and thin with an unusually
long face. Before the Great War he had been a simple shepherd but had
fought together with Baron Ungern on the German front and afterwards
against the Bolsheviki. He was a Grand Duke of the Buriats, the
successor of former Buriat kings who had been dethroned by the Russian
Government after their attempt to establish the Independence of the
Buriat people. The servants brought us dishes with nuts, raisins, dates
and cheese and served us tea.

"This is the last night, Djam Bolon!" said Baron Ungern. "You promised
me . . ."

"I remember," answered the Buriat, "all is ready."

For a long time I listened to their reminiscences about former battles
and friends who had been lost. The clock pointed to midnight when Djam
Bolon got up and went out of the yurta.

"I want to have my fortune told once more," said Baron Ungern, as though
he were justifying himself. "For the good of our cause it is