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saw it snow as it snowed that night. I have encountered many a blizzard in the Far West, to say nothing of my experience on the Pacific Railroad, which, of course, it  would be out of place to dwell upon here, and I only allude  to it to show that I am not unfamiliar with blizzards. I repeat, the worst I ever saw was that night among the mountains of Eastern Thibet.

When I was outside the guard house there were Maurice and Mr. Mirrikh waiting for me amid a whirl of whitened  flakes, which already covered them so completely that it was  hard to tell which was skeepskin and which snow. I believe I failed to mention that we had all provided ourselves with the sheepskin coats of the country at Zhad-uan. Big clumsy things they were, too, and worn with the woolly side  out. It was by advice of our adept that we purchased them—I never fully appreciated the necessity until now.

They were waiting for me and it is well they were, otherwise I might never have found them, for a camel would have been invisible five feet away from the door.

“We want a lantern!” cried Maurice. “George, you are nearest, go back and get one, like a good fellow.”

“We do not need it,” interposed the adept. “My powers of vision are quite sufficient. “Come! Come! We are wasting time.”

“Impossible!” shouted Maurice, and even then I could scarcely hear him. “You nor no other man can see in a whirl like this.”

“Friends,” he answered. “I see by a vision of which you know nothing. Every moment is precious: for God’s sake come!”

I had gained Mausice’s side by this time, and with my mouth close to his ear begged him earnestly not to go—or  at least to insist on the lantern.

Somewhat to my surprise he listened to the latter part of my proposition, though utterly rejecting the former. The