d so opened my holster and threw over the safety catch of
my revolver. Soon the motor stopped alongside our caravan. In it sat
Sepailoff with a smiling face and beside him his two executioners,
Chestiakoff and Jdanoff. Sepailoff greeted us very warmly and asked:

"You are changing your horses in Khazahuduk? Does the road cross that
pass ahead? I don't know the way and must overtake an envoy who went
there."

The Minister of War answered that we would be in Khazahuduk that evening
and gave Sepailoff directions as to the road. The motor rushed away and,
when it had topped the pass, he ordered one of the Mongols to gallop
forward to see whether it had not stopped somewhere near the other side.
The Mongol whipped his steed and sped away. We followed slowly.

"What is the matter?" I asked. "Please explain!"

The Minister told me that Djam Bolon yesterday received information
that Sepailoff planned to overtake me on the way and kill me. Sepailoff
suspected that I had stirred up the Baron against him. Djam Bolon
reported the matter to the Baron, who organized this column for my
safety. The returning Mongol reported that the motor car had gone on out
of sight.

"Now," said the Minister, "we shall take quite another route so that the
Colonel will wait in vain for us at Khazahuduk."

We turned north at Undur Dobo and at night were in the camp of a local
prince. Here we took leave of our Minister, received splendid fresh
horses and quickly continued our trip to the east, leaving behind us
"the man with the head like a saddle" against whom I had been warned by
the old fortune teller in the vicinity of Van Kure.

After twelve days without further adventures we reached the first
railway station on the Chinese Eastern Railway, from where I traveled in
unbelievable luxury to Peking.

* * * * *

Surrounded by the comforts and conveniences of the splendid hotel
at Peking, while shedding all the attributes of traveler, hunter and
warrior, I could not, however, throw off the spell of those nine days
spent in Urga, where I had daily met Baron Ungern, "Incarnated God of
War." The newspapers carrying accounts of the bloody march of the Baron
through Transbaikalia brought the pictures ever fresh to my mind. Even
now, although more than seven months have elapsed, I cannot forget those
nights of madness, inspiration and hate.

The predictions are fulfilled. Approximately one hundred thirty days
afterwards Baron Ungern was captured by