le Soyots, and led us into their
tepees.

On our way there I took the opportunity to hand to the old Soyot a
cigarette and to another a box of matches. We were all walking along
together save one Soyot who limped slowly in the rear and was holding
his hand up over his nose.

"Is he ill?" I asked.

"Yes," sadly answered the old Soyot. "That is my son. He has been losing
blood from the nose for two days and is now quite weak."

I stopped and called the young man to me.

"Unbutton your outer coat," I ordered, "bare your neck and chest and
turn your face up as far as you can." I pressed the jugular vein on both
sides of his head for some minutes and said to him:

"The blood will not flow from your nose any more. Go into your tepee and
lie down for some time."

The "mysterious" action of my fingers created on the Soyots a strong
impression. The old Soyot with fear and reverence whispered:

"Ta Lama, Ta Lama! (Great Doctor)."

In the yurta we were given tea while the old Soyot sat thinking deeply
about something. Afterwards he took counsel with his companions and
finally announced:

"The wife of our Prince is sick in her eyes and I think the Prince will
be very glad if I lead the 'Ta Lama' to him. He will not punish me,
for he ordered that no 'bad people' should be allowed to pass; but that
should not stop the 'good people' from coming to us.

"Do as you think best," I replied rather indifferently. "As a matter of
fact, I know how to treat eye diseases but I would go back if you say
so."

"No, no!" the old man exclaimed with fear. "I shall guide you myself."

Sitting by the fire, he lighted his pipe with a flint, wiped
the mouthpiece on his sleeve and offered it to me in true native
hospitality. I was "comme il faut" and smoked. Afterwards he offered his
pipe to each one of our company and received from each a cigarette, a
little tobacco or some matches. It was the seal on our friendship. Soon
in our yurta many persons piled up around us, men, women, children and
dogs. It was impossible to move. From among them emerged a Lama with
shaved face and close cropped hair, dressed in the flowing red garment
of his caste. His clothes and his expression were very different from
the common mass of dirty Soyots with their queues and felt caps finished
off with squirrel tails on the top. The Lama was very kindly disposed
towards us but looked ever greedily at our gold rings and watches. I
decided to exploit this avidity