“The Chinese governor, the _Zinzin_, wants to make an automobile line from Kalgan,” the host announces. “I saw an iron bridge once, so I agreed to build him one over the Lara River. Have you ever seen an iron bridge? How shall I do it?” You allow that you have seen an iron bridge,--that you have even gone across one. You suggest that much depends on the river. “How wide is it, for instance?” “I have not picked out the place for the bridge yet,” answers the host; “but the river is somewhere between sixty and three hundred feet wide. Have some vodka?” “And how deep is the water?” you ask. “Well,”--after much thought,--“it is deep in the middle and shallow at the edges. Have a cigarette! Have some tea! If we build this bridge, the _Zinzin_ will give us a decoration. How much will the bridge cost?” “That depends upon what sort of bridge you build, and how long it is, and how much material you use!” Alexsimevich comes in. “You see, the more iron you use, the more the bridge costs,” he observes. “_Navierno! navierno!_ you speak sagely, Alexsimevich. That is what I told the _Zinzin_.” “It must have piers and abutments,” you venture. “But the _Zinzin_ does not like piers, because the water was not made to put such things into. Yet I said with you, one must always have piers. Here is brandy. Take a few sardines!” The problem certainly needs something special for its elucidation. You ponder, and Alexsimevich and the host breathlessly watch the hatching of your official pronunciamento. At last you deliver yourself. “Find out how wide and deep the river is. Then write to a steel-manufacturing company, to quote prices. They will send a blue-print of an automobile bridge of the specified length, together with the weight of the steel. You can buy pieces to build it at so many kopecks a pound, just like butter.” “Ah, my friend, you do not know how great a service you have rendered! What a providence is your coming! Pray, have some cognac! Will they send me a picture with piers,--a picture that I can show the _Zinzin_?” “Yes,--yes, indeed.” “I go to-morrow to tell him of this.” We are once more in the street and the banded escort is turning into still another Russian’s house. Their idea of sightseeing is apparently to take tea with every Russian in the place. A mild desire is registered to come in contact with some of the other people. The idea strikes them in the light of a strange new doctrine. “You wish to see Mongols?” one asks. Though surprised, they acquiesce amiably. “To-day they have holiday; you are favored. Go see the doings and make me visit later,” says the disappointed third host. Then the wool-merchant speaks. “Near by is the great temple of Urga, which few have seen, for it is one of the most holy places of the Lama faith. It is the temple of Maidari, the Future God. If the _gaspadine_ wishes to see it, I, who have bought wool from the uncle of the keeper of the gate, can gain admittance.”