ARRESTED!
ABOUT twelve miles from Zain we saw from a ridge a snakelike line of riders crossing the valley, which detachment we met half an hour later on the shore of a deep, swampy stream. The group consisted of Mongols, Buriats and Tibetans armed with Russian rifles. At the head of the column were two men, one of whom in a huge black Astrakhan and black felt cape with red Caucasian cowl on his shoulders blocked my road and, in a coarse, harsh voice, demanded of me: "Who are you, where are you from and where are you going?"
I gave also a laconic answer. They then said that they were a detachment of troops from Baron Ungern under the command of Captain Vandaloff. "I am Captain Bezrodnoff, military judge."
Suddenly he laughed loudly. His insolent, stupid face did not please me and, bowing to the officers, I ordered my riders to move.
"Oh no!" he remonstrated, as he blocked the road again. "I cannot allow you to go farther. I want to have a long and serious conversation with you and you will have to come back to Zain for it."
I protested and called attention to the letter of Colonel Kazagrandi, only to hear Bezrodnoff answer with coldness:
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