The stroke of a knife, a bullet or strong fingers strangling the neck like a vise accomplished the justice of the plans of this miracle worker.
Without the walls of the yurta the wind whistled and roared and drove the frozen snow sharply against the stretched felt.

Through the roar of the wind came the sound of many voices in mingled shouting, wailing and laughter.

I felt that in such surroundings it were not difficult to dumbfound a wandering nomad with miracles, because Nature herself had prepared the setting for it.

This thought had scarcely time to flash through my mind before Tushegoun Lama suddenly raised his head, looked sharply at me and said: "There is very much unknown in Nature and the skill of using the unknown produces the miracle; but the power is given to few.

I want to prove it to you and you may tell me afterwards whether you have seen it before or not." He stood up, pushed back the sleeves of his yellow garment, seized his knife and strode across to the shepherd.
"Michik, stand up!" he ordered.
When the shepherd had risen, the Lama quickly unbuttoned his coat and bared the man's chest.