But nobody came out to meet us and, what astonished us more, we were not surrounded by the angry black Mongolian dogs with fiery eyes.

Still, from the distance we had seen the fire and so there must be someone there.

We dismounted from our horses and approached on foot.

From out of the yurta rushed two Russian soldiers, one of whom shot at me with his pistol but missed me and wounded my horse in the back through the saddle.

I brought him to earth with my Mauser and the other was killed by the butt end of my friend's rifle.