asked the Mongol, "how our camels moved their ears in
fear? How the herd of horses on the plain stood fixed in attention and
how the herds of sheep and cattle lay crouched close to the ground? Did
you notice that the birds did not fly, the marmots did not run and the
dogs did not bark? The air trembled softly and bore from afar the music
of a song which penetrated to the hearts of men, animals and birds
alike. Earth and sky ceased breathing. The wind did not blow and the sun
did not move. At such a moment the wolf that is stealing up on the sheep
arrests his stealthy crawl; the frightened herd of antelopes suddenly
checks its wild course; the knife of the shepherd cutting the sheep's
throat falls from his hand; the rapacious ermine ceases to stalk the
unsuspecting salga. All living beings in fear are involuntarily thrown
into prayer and waiting for their fate. So it was just now. Thus it has
always been whenever the King of the World in his subterranean palace
prays and searches out the destiny of all peoples on the earth."

In this wise the old Mongol, a simple, coarse shepherd and hunter, spoke
to me.

Mongolia with her nude and terrible mountains, her limitless plains,
covered with the widely strewn bones of the forefathers, gave birth
to Mystery. Her people, frightened by the stormy passions of Nature or
lulled by her deathlike peace, feel her mystery. Her "Red" and "Yellow
Lamas" preserve and poetize her mystery. The Pontiffs of Lhasa and Urga
know and possess her mystery.

On my journey into Central Asia I came to know for the first time about
"the Mystery of Mysteries," which I can call by no other name. At the
outset I did not pay much attention to it and did not attach to it such
importance as I afterwards realized belonged to it, when I had analyzed
and connoted many sporadic, hazy and often controversial bits of
evidence.

The old people on the shore of the River Amyl related to me an ancient
legend to the effect that a certain Mongolian tribe in their escape from
the demands of Jenghiz Khan hid themselves in a subterranean country.
Afterwards a Soyot from near the Lake of Nogan Kul showed me the smoking
gate that serves as the entrance to the "Kingdom of Agharti." Through
this gate a hunter formerly entered into the Kingdom and, after his
return, began to relate what he had seen there. The Lamas cut out
his tongue in order to prevent him from telling about the Mystery of
Mysteries. When he arrived at old