 They loved him, not for the sake of any great idea behind him, but for himself, for the magnetic appeal of his person and personality. For the complete satisfaction which he gave in them to the natural need of a man to be led by a real leader and to worship a living God. He was a leader if there ever has been one, and he was a god in the sense that, even before his staggering victories, nay, even in the depth of the forest where he hid upon the slopes of Burkan Kaldul at a hair's breadth from destruction, he had in him all the qualifications that were to give him in the years to come the Empire of Asia. The forces of the invisible had actually set him apart above other men and associated him with their power. As the shamans of Mongolia were soon to say, the power of the everlasting blue sky had descended upon him. Hair upon earth, he was its agent.