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WUE wa te Hwhe n we ane wre - -—“ oe io ete hat - fe Sew ert es ~~ “oe © eee - ee a sumsal — at be ~ eh Te ete & | teh gale Lanai tid a a ‘. Oe ee hs ee tehetind Aad lll ti 2 eens tienen peat wee ete eiatet et etehe lee tee 2 es eg + patel ele wl eee es eh pate ll abe ren ee lg. ¢ om ote ete ng wets ern . ate ‘ rei fo ie sitieh-denthda-viapegin oncirtintstetdinailptelh dene ek oteerenk tor en eo “me - “ - - . —* ied - o'gvets ere ~~ ° ee to os -_ 4 ue - ++ - . « » HOP ome + Pen? he 4 i - s~ ' ‘ “" . . 7 ~~ Pa we «| x Hiwerng -' v “~~ “ * — ~ ~ <é + 0 age ee AS bets « - vee ‘’ a. * — e's th eg gig ihe SS Sg eee Be ee es eee eel ob wm f ~ ns vy '@ wi é “> y . . a a 1 ‘ s+ * . « 4 . ® e “in "1 ‘ be . s* er ev's —« . ory a "es ‘i a th tl eae . . ws “* * | oe, . e's . . * Qh ete . . * “* . . . | H a a an 2a “Nk ae Ga ee + inl : . ; ; 7) " rT < ; ™< : i J " ‘ f i = * [ey 4 ey . | NPR eA eee Atle Nace Lhe . ee Mngt p é eS - - : = , : i a Y YT. cae 2 mi 4 r ee p ¢ . Ae ~ J 4 = 3 +2) A A or ~ he : : . s 4 2 - : : ’ a a 4 . : ae ; \ ‘ - raf ] r -— iy oe * 4? mt ‘ . * * j i ry * ~ ba 9aex. 4 7 oti ~ “= “ ; “a <4 , f ; j : tea * . . et 7 | - . y : . 7 f tS : “a ‘ miiv * 4. ; ¢ - . ‘ 7 eo ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAI ee i By Roy Chapman Andrews ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS CAMPS AND TRAILS IN CHINA [With Yvette Borup Andrews] WHALE HUNTING WITH GUN AND CAMERA D. APPLETON & COMPANY Publishers, New York T 245 A NOMAD OF THE MONGOLIAN PLAINS bt a a, oe ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS A NATURALIST’S ACCOUNT OF CHINA’S “GREAT NORTHWEST” BY ROY CHAPMAN ANDREWS ASSOCIATE CURATOR OF MAMMALS IN THE AMERICAN MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY, AND LEADER OF THE MUSEUM’S SECOND ASIATIC EXPE- DITION. AUTHOR OF “WHALE HUNTING WITH GUN AND CAMERA,” “CAMPS AND TRAILS IN CHINA,” ETC. PHOTOGRAPHS BY YVETTE BORUP ANDREWS Photographer of the Second Asiatic Expedition D. APPLETON AND COMPANY NEW YORK: LONDON: MCMXXI COPYRIGHT, 1921, By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA ee Te ie el hel Ae > =a oo tM NM el THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO Dr. J. A. ALLEN WHO, THROUGH HIS PROFOUND KNOWLEDGE, UNSELFISH ‘DEVOTION TO SCIENCE, AND NEVER-FAILING SYMPATHY WITH YOUNGER STUDENTS OF ZOOLOGY HAS BEEN AN EXAMPLE AND AN INSPIRATION DURING THE YEARS I HAVE WORKED AT HIS SIDE. ~ — PREFACE During 1916-1917 the First Asiatic Expedition of the American Museum of Natural History carried on zodlogical explorations along the frontiers of Tibet and Burma in the little known province of Yiin-nan, China. The narrative of that expedition has already been given to the public in the first book of this series “Camps and Trails in China.” It was al- ways the intention of the American Museum to continue the Asiatic investigations, and my presence in China on other work in 1918 gave the desired opportunity at the conclusion of the war. Having made extensive collections along the southeast- ern edge of the great central Asian plateau, it was especially desirable to obtain a representation of the fauna from the northeastern part in preparation for the great expedition which, I am glad to say, is now in course of preparation, and which will conduct work in various other branches of science. Consequently, my wife and I spent one of the most delightful years of our lives in Mongolia and North China on the Second Asiatic Expedition of the American Museum of Natural His- tory. The present book is the narrative of our work and travels. As in “Camps and Trails’? I have written it entirely from the sportsman’s standpoint and have purposely avoided scientific details which would prove uninteresting or wearisome to the general public. Full reports of the expedition’s results will appear in due course in the Museum’s scientific publications and to them I would refer those readers who wish further de- tails of the Mongolian fauna. Vii viii PREFACE Asia is the most fascinating hunting ground in all the world, not because of the quantity of game to be found there but because of its quality, and scientific importance. Central Asia was the point of origin and distribution for many mammals which inhabit other parts of the earth to-day and the habits and relationships of some of its big game animals are almost unknown. Because of unceasing native persecution, lack of protection, the continued destruction of forests and the ever increasing facilities for transportation to the remote districts of the interior, many of China’s most interesting and impor- tant forms of wild life are doomed to extermination in the very near future. Fortunately world museums are awakening to the necessity of obtaining representative series of Asiatic mammals before it is too late, and to the broad vision of the President and Board of Trustees of the American Museum of Natural His- tory my wife and I owe the exceptional opportunities which have been given us to carry on zodlogical explorations in Asia. We are especially grateful to President Henry Fairfield Osborn, who is ready, always, to support enthusiastically any plans which tend to increase knowledge of China or to strengthen cordial relations between the United States and the Chinese Republic. Director F. A. Lucas and Assistant Secretary George H. Sherwood have never failed in their attention to the needs of our expeditions when in the field and to them I extend our best thanks. Mr. and Mrs. Charles L. Bernheimer, who have contributed to every expedition in which I have taken part, generously rendered financial aid for the Mongolian work. My wife, who is ever my best assistant in the field, was responsible for all the photographic work of the expedition and I have drawn much upon her daily “Journals” in the prepara- tion of this book. eS EE wil Me? bts 6 i ek PREFACE ix I wish to acknowledge the kindness of the Editors of Har- per’s Magazine, Natural History, Asia Magazime and the Trans-Pacific Magazine in whose publications parts of this book have already appeared. | We are indebted to a host of friends who gave assistance to the expedition and to us personally in the field: The Wai Chiao Pu (Ministry of Foreign Affairs) freely granted permits for the expedition to travel throughout China and extended other courtesies for which I wish to express ap- preciation on behalf of the President and Board of Trustees of the American Museum of Natural History. In Peking, His Excellency Paul S. Reinsch, formerly Ameri- can Minister to China, Dr. C. D. Tenney, Mr. Willys Peck, Mr. Ernest B. Price and other members of the Legation staff obtained import permits and attended to many details con- nected with the Chinese Government. Mr. A. M. Guptil acted as our Peking representative while we were in the field and assumed much annoying detail in for- warding and receiving shipments of supplies and equipment. Other gentlemen in Peking who rendered us courtesies in va- rious ways are Commanders I. V. Gillis and C. T. Hutchins, Dr. George D. Wilder, Dr. J. G. Anderson and Messrs. H. C. Faxon, E. G. Smith, C. R. Bennett, M. E. Weatherall and J. Kenrick. | In Kalgan, Mr. Charles L. Coltman arranged for the trans- portation of the expedition to Mongolia and not only gratu- itously acted as our agent but was always ready to devote his own time and the use of his motor cars to further the work of the party. In Urga, Mr. F. A. Larsen of Anderson, Meyer & Company, was of invaluable assistance in obtaining horses, carts and other equipment for the expedition as well as in giving us the benefit of his long and unique experience in Mongolia. Mr. E. V. Olufsen of Anderson, Meyer & Company, put him- x PREFACE self, his house, and his servants at our disposal whenever we were in Urga and aided us in innumerable ways. Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Mamen often entertained us in their home. Mr. and Mrs. E. L. MacCallie, who accompanied us on one trip across Mongolia and later resided temporarily in Urga, brought equipment for us across Mongolia and enter- tained us while we were preparing to return to Peking. Monsieur A. Orlow, Russian Diplomatic Agent in Urga, obtained permits from the Mongolian Government for our work in the Urga region and gave us much valuable advice. In south China, Reverend H. Castle of Tunglu, and Rev- erend Lacy Moffet planned a delightful hunting trip for us in Che-kiang Province. In Shanghai the Hon. E. S. Cunningham, American Con- sul-General, materially aided the expedition in the shipment of specimens. To Mr. G. M. Jackson, General Passenger Agent of the Canadian Pacific Ocean Services, thanks are due for arranging for rapid transportation to America of our valu- able collections. Roy CuarpmMan ANDREWS AMERICAN MuvsEUM OF NaturAL History, New York Ciry, U.S.A. CONTENTS PREFACE e e e « e ° ° e s ° INTRODUCTION _ Early conquests of the Mongols—Why their power was lost— Independence of Outer Mongolia—China’s opportunity to obtain her former power in Mongolia—General Hsu Shu-tseng—Memorial to President of China—Cancella- tion of Outer Mongolia’s autonomy ; : . CHAPTER I ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY Arrival in Kalgan—The Hutukhtu’s motor car—Start for the great plateau—-Camel caravans—The pass—A motor car on the Mongolian plains—Start from Hei-ma-hou— Chinese cultivation—The Mongol not a farmer—The grass-lands of Inner Mongolia—The first Mongol village —Construction of a yurt—Bird life—The telegraph line CHAPTER II SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT Wells in the desert—Panj-kiang—A lama monastery—A great herd of antelope—A wild chase—Long range shoot- ing—Amazing speed—An exhibition of high-class run- ning—Difficulties in traveling—Description of the north- ern Mongols—Love of sport—Ude—Bustards—Great monastery at Turin—The rolling plains of Outer Mon- golia—Urga during the World War . : : . CHAPTER III A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS Return trip—The “agony box’—The first. accident—My Czech and Cossack passengers—The “agony box” breaks xl PAGH oe vil xix 13 xil CONTENTS PAGE a wheel—A dry camp—More motor trouble—Meeting with Langdon Warner—Our game of hide-and-seek in the Orient—An accident near Panj-kiang—We use mut- ton fat for oil—Arrival at Hei-ma-hou—A wet ride to Kalgan—Trouble at the gate . f ; : ; a OF CHAPTER IV NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL Winter in Peking—We leave for Mongolia—Inner Mongolia in spring—Race with a camel—Geese and cranes—Go- phers—An electric light in the desert—Chinese motor companies—An antelope buck—A great herd—Brilliant atmosphere of Mongolia—Notes on antelope speed eae | CHAPTER V ANTELOPE MOVIE STARS Moving pictures under difficulties—A lost opportunity—A zoological garden in the desert—Killing a wolf—Speed © of a wolf—Antelope steak and parfum de chameau— A caravan—A wild wolf- ita arian acid—The Turin Plains . : : ° . : . 88 CHAPTER VI THE SACRED CITY OF THE LIVING BUDDHA A city of contrasts—The Chinese quarter like frontier Amer- ica—A hamlet of modern Russia—An _ indescribable mixture of Mongolia, Russia and China in West Urga— Description of a Mongol woman—Urga like a pageant on the stage of a theater—The sacred mountain—The palace of the “Living God’—Love for western inventions—A strange scene at the Hutukhtu’s palace—A bed for the Living Buddha—Lamaism—The Lama City—Ceremony in the temple—Prayer wheels—Burial customs—Corpses eaten by dogs—The dogs of Mongolia—Cleanliness— Food—Morality—“H. C. L.” in bc, horrible um —Mr. F. A. Larsen. : 62 CONTENTS CHAPTER VII THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN Beginning work—Carts—Ponies—Our interpreter—Mongol tent—Native clothes best for work—Supplies—How to keep ‘‘fit’” in the field—Accidents—Sain Noin Khan— The first day—A night in a yurt—Cranes—We trade horses—Horse stealing—No mammals—Birds—Break- ing a cart horse—Mongol ponies CHAPTER VIII THE LURE OF THE PLAINS Trapping marmots—Skins valuable as furs—Native methods of hunting—A marmot dance—Habits—The first hunt- ing-camp—Our Mongol neighbors—After antelope on horseback—The first buck—A pole-cat—The second day’s hunt—The vastness of the plains—Development of a “land sense’—Another antelope . a : ‘ CHAPTER IX HUNTING ON THE TURIN PLAINS Mongol hospitality—Camping on the Turin Plains—An enormous herd of antelope—A wonderful ride—Three gazelle—A dry camp—My pony, Kublai Khan—Plains life about a well—Antelope babies—A wonderful pro- vision of nature—Habits—Species in Mongolia—The “goitre’’—Speed—Work in camp—Small mammals CHAPTER X AN ADVENTURE IN THE LAMA CITY An unexpected meeting with a river—Our new camp in Urga —“God’s Brother’s House’”—Photographing in the Lama City—A critical moment—Help from Mr. Olufsen—The motion picture camera an instrument of magic—Floods in Urga—Duke Loobtseng eeere. tee Duchess— Vegetables in Urga : PAGH 84 99 116 133 CONTENTS CHAPTER XI MONGOLS AT HOME The forests of Mongolia—A bad day’s work—The Terelche River—Tserin Dorchy’s family—A wild-wood romance —Evening in the valley—Doctoring the natives—A clever lama—A popular magazine—Return of Tserin Dorchy —Independence—His hunt on the Sacred Mountain— Punishment—Hunting with the Mongols—T'samba and “buttered tea’”—A splendid roebuck—The fortune of a naturalist—Eating the deer’s viscera—The field meet of the Terelche Valley—Horse races—Wrestling CHAPTER XII NOMADS OF THE FOREST An ideal camp—The first wapiti—A roebuck—Currants and berries—Catching fish—Enormous trout—A rainy day in camp—A wapiti seen from camp—Mongolian weather— PAGH 143 Flowers—Beautiful country—A musk deer—Habits and © commercial value—A wild boar—Success and failure in hunting—We kill two wapiti—Return to Urga—Mr. and Mrs. MacCallie—Packing the collections—Across the plains to Peking ; ‘ ; ‘ CHAPTER XIII THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY Importance of Far East—Desert, plain, and water in Mon- golia—The Gobi Desert—-Agriculture—Pastoral products —Treatment of wool and camel hair—Marmots as a valuable asset-—Urga a growing fur market—Chinese merchants—Labor—Gold mines—Transportation—Motor trucks—Passenger motor service—Forests—Aeroplanes —Wireless telegraph . : - CHAPTER XIV THE GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS Brigands, Chinese soldiers and “battles’—The Mongolian sheep—Harry Caldwell—Difference between North and 161 175 : | —_— CONTENTS South China—The “dust age” in China—Inns—Brigand scouts—The Tai Hai Lake—Splendid shooting—The sheep mountains—An awe-inspiring gorge—An introduc- tion to the argali—Caldwell’s big ram—A herd of sheep —My first ram—A second sheep—The end of a perfect day ; ; ‘ P : ; : . ‘ , CHAPTER XV MONGOLIAN “ARGALIY”’ A long climb—Roebuck—An unsuspecting ram—My Mongol hunter—Donkeys instead of sheep—Two fine rams—The big one lost—A lecture on hunting—A night wali in the cafion—Commander Hutchins and Major Barker—Tom and I get a ram—The end of the sheep hunt . : CHAPTER XVI THE HORSE-DEER OF SHANSI Wu Tai Hai—The “American Legation”—Interior of a North Shansi house—North China villages—The people— “Horse-deer’”—The names “wapiti” and “elk’”—A great gorge—A rock temple—The hunting ee furnish a surprise—A huge bull wapiti ° . CHAPTER XVII WAPITI, ROEBUCK AND GORAL Our camp in a new village—Game at our door—Concentra- tion of animal life—Chinese roebuck—A splendid hunt— Goral—Difficult climbing—“Hide and seek” with a goral —The second wapiti—A happy ending to a cold day CHAPTER XVIII WILD PIGS——-ANIMAL AND HUMAN Shansi Province famous for wild boar—Flesh delicious— When to hunt—Where to go—Inns and coal gas—Kao- chia-chaung—A long shot—Our camp at Tziloa—Native PAGE 205 219 230 i! XVI CONTENTS PAGE hunters—A young pig—A hard chase—Pheasants—An- other pig—Smith runs down a big sow—Chinese steal our game—A wounded boar . : : ° : . 241 CHAPTER XIX THE HUNTING PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS A visit to Duke Tsai Tse—A “personality’—The Tung Ling —The road to the tombs—A country inn—The front view of the Tung Ling—The tombs of the Empress Dowager and Ch’ien Lung—The “hinterland’—An area of desolation—Our camp in the forest—Reeves’s pheasant —The most beautiful Chinese deer—‘Blood horns” as medicine—Goral—Animals and birds of the Tung Ling —A new method of catching trout—A forest fire—Native stupidity—Wanton destruction—China’s great oppor- tunity . : ‘ : ; , 256 INDEX © ° e « . e - e e e edhe 271 ILLUSTRATIONS . FACING PAGE A Nomad of the Mongolian Plains. . Frontispiece Roy Chapman Andrews on “Kublai Khan” . : . . 8 Yvette Borup Andrews, Photographer of the Expedition . 9 At the End of the Lorg Trail from Outer Mongolia. aft 0 Women of Southern Mongolia. , d : : ee The Middle Ages and the Twentieth Century . ; . 84 A Mongolian Antelope Killed from Our Motor Car . ayy (abe Watering Camels at a Well in the Gobi Desert . : » PBs The Water Carrier for a Caravan ; - ‘ ‘ . 46 A Thirty-five Pound Bustard . ‘ : . : A Young Mongolia . , ‘ ; ; : ‘ . = 47 Mongol Horsemen on the Streets of Urga . ; ° > G0 The Prison at Urga . ; é . , : ‘ "ae. A Criminal in a Coffin with Hands Manacled . 5 ; SS 3) The Great Temple at Urga . ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ - 2 A Prayer Wheel and a Mongol Lama . : ; ‘ ee Lamas Calling the Gods at a Temple in Urga : Sea &:, Mongol Praying at a Shrine in Urga . : : . ey Mongol Women Beside a Yurt . ; ’ ; . «82 The Headdress of a Mongol Married Woman .. ; =, Oa The Framework of a Yurt . ; : : . ee Mongol Women and a Lama . ‘ ‘ : . ; ahi The Traffic Policeman on Urga’s “Broadway” . , aoe XVii XVlil ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE A Mongol Lama . a : ; ; : - 98 The Grasslands of Outer Mongolia . ; < , - 99 Mongol Herdsmen Carrying Lassos . ; etna . 116 A Lone Camp on the Desert . 4 ‘ ; : : Spe Tibetan Yaks : . : ; ; ; : ; . 184 Our Caravan Crossing the Terelche River . ; : . 185 Our Base Camp at the Edge of the Forest . , : . 148 The Mongol Village of the Terelche Valley . : ‘ . 149 Wrestlers at Terelche Valley Field Meet . : ; . 164 Women Spectators at the Field Meet . , ‘ ; S165 Cave Dwellings in North Shansi Province . er ates . 184 An Asiatic Wapiti : ‘ ‘ : : 485 Harry R. Caldwell and a een es : ! . 185 Where the Bighorn Sheep Are Found . : + (25 A Mongolian Roebuck . ‘ : : ‘ : « @17 The Head of the Record Ram . : ; 224 Map of Mongolia and China, Showing Route of Second Asiatic Expedition in Broken Lines . ° ° . 2 225 INTRODUCTION > The romantic story of the Mongols and their achievements has been written so completely that it is unnecessary to repeat it here even though it is as fascinating as a tale from the Arabian Nights. The present status of the country, how- ever, is but little known to the western world. In a few words I will endeavor to sketch the recent political develop- ments, some of which occurred while we were in Mongolia. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries the great Genghiz Khan and his illustrious successor Kublai Khan “almost in a night” erected the greatest empire the world has ever seen. Not only did they conquer all of Asia, but they advanced in Europe as far as the Dnieper leaving behind a trail of blood and slaughter. All Europe rose against them, but what could not be ac- complished by force of arms was wrought in the Mongols themselves by an excess of luxury. In their victorious ad- vance great stores of treasure fell into their hands and they gave themselves to a life of ease and indulgence. By nature the Mongols were hard riding, hard living war- riors, accustomed to privation and fatigue. The poison of luxury ate into the very fibers of their being and gradually they lost the characteristics which had made them great. The ruin of the race was completed by the introduction of Lama- ism, a religion which carries only moral destruction where it enters, and eventually the Mongols passed under the rule of the once conquered Chinese and then under the Manchus. Until the overthrow of the Manchu régime in China in 1911, and the establishment of the present republic, there were no xix xx INTRODUCTION particularly significant events in Mongolian history. But at that time the Russians, wishing to create a buffer state between themselves and China as well as to obtain special commercial privileges in Mongolia, aided the Mongols in rebellion, fur- nished them with arms and ammunition and with officers to train their men. A somewhat tentative proclamation of independence for Outer Mongolia was issued in December, 1911, by the Hu- tukhtu and nobles of Urga, and the Chinese were driven out of the country with little difficulty. Beset with internal troubles, the Chinese paid but scant attention to Mongolian affairs until news was received in Peking in October, 1912, that M. Korostovetz, formerly Russian Minister to China, had arrived secretly in Urga and on November 8, 1912, had rec- ognized the independence of Outer Mongolia on behalf of his Government. It then became incumbent upon China to take official note of the situation, especially as foreign complications could not be faced in view of her domestic embarrassments. Consequently on November 5, 1913, there was concluded a Russo-Chinese agreement wherein Russia recognized that Outer Mongolia was under the suzerainty of China, and China, on her part, admitted the autonomy of Outer Mongolia. The es- sential element in the situation was the fact that Russia stood behind the Mongols with money and arms and China’s hand was forced at a time when she was powerless to resist. | Quite naturally, Mongolia’s political status has been a sore point with China and it is hardly surprising that she should have awaited an opportunity to reclaim what she considered to be her own. This opportunity arrived with the collapse of Russia and the spread of Bolshevism, for the Mongols were dependent upon Russia for material assistance in anything resembling military operations, although, as early as 1914, they had begun to re- a ia is a fi INTRODUCTION xxi alize that they were cultivating a dangerous friend. The Mongolian army, at the most, numbered only two or three thousand poorly equipped and undisciplined troops who would require money and organization before they could become an - effective fighting force. The Chinese were not slow to appreciate these conditions and General Hsu Shu-tseng, popularly known as “Little Hsu,” by a clever bit of Oriental intrigue sent four thousand soldiers to Urga with the excuse of protecting the Mongols from a so- called threatened invasion of Buriats and brigands. -A little later he himself arrived in a motor car and, when the stage was set, brought such pressure to bear upon the Hutukhtu and his Cabinet that they had no recourse except to cancel Mongolia’s autonomy and ask to return to their former place under Chinese rule. This they did on November 17, 1919, in a formal Memorial addressed to the President of the Chinese Republic, which is quoted below as it appeared in the Peking press, under date of November 24, 1919: “We, the Ministers and Vice-Ministers [here follow their names and ranks] of all the departments of the autonomous Government of Outer Mongolia, and all the princes, dukes, hutukhtus and lamas and others resident at Urga, hereby jointly and severally submit the following petition for the es- _ teemed perusal of His Excellency the President of the Republic of China :— “Outer Mongolia has been a dependency of China since the reign of the Emperor Kang Hsi, remaining loyal for over two hundred years, the entire population, from princes and dukes down to the common people having enjoyed the blessings of peace. During the reign of the Emperor Tao Kwang changes in the established institutions, which were opposed to Mon- golian sentiment, caused dissatisfaction which was aggravated by the corruption of the administration during the last days ~— XXil INTRODUCTION of the Manchu Dynasty. Taking advantage of this Mongolian dissatisfaction, foreigners instigated and assisted the inde- pendence movement. Upon the Kiakhta Convention being signed the autonomy of Outer Mongolia was held a fait ac- compli, China retaining an empty suzerainty while the officials and people of Outer Mongolia lost many of their old rights and privileges. Since the establishment of this autonomous government no progress whatsoever has been chronicled, the affairs of government being indeed plunged in a state of chaos, causing deep pessimism. 7 “Lately, chaotic conditions have also reigned supreme in Russia, reports of revolutionary elements threatening our frontiers having been frequently received. Moreover, since the Russians have no united government it is only natural that they are powerless to carry out the provisions of the treaties, and now that they have no control over their subjects the Buriat tribes have constantly conspired and codperated with bandits, and repeatedly sent delegates to Urga urging our Gov- ernment to join with them and form a Pan-Mongolian nation. That this propaganda work, so varied and so persistent, which aims at usurping Chinese suzerainty and undermining the autonomy of Outer Mongolia, does more harm than good to Outer Mongolia, our Government is well aware. The Buriats, with their bandit Allies, now considering us unwillmg to espouse their cause, contemplate dispatching troops to violate our frontiers and to compel our submission. Furthermore, forces from the so-called White Army have forcibly occupied Tanu Ulianghai, an old possession of Outer Mongolia, and at- tacked both Chinese and Mongolian troops, this being followed by the entry of the Red Army, thus making the situation im- possible. “Now that both our internal and external affairs have reached such a climax, we, the members of the Government, in view of the present situation, have assembled all the princes, q INTRODUCTION Xxill dukes, lamas and others and have held frequent meetings to discuss the question of our future welfare. Those present have been unanimously of the opinion that the old bonds of friend- ship having been restored our autonomy should be canceled, since Chinese and Mongolians are filled with a common purpose and ideal. “The result of our decision has been duly reported to His Holiness the Bogdo Jetsun Dampa Hutukhtu Khan and has received his approval and support. Such being the position we now unanimously petition His Excellency the President that the old order of affairs be restored.’ (Signed) “Premier and Acting Minister of the Interior, Prince Lama Batma Torgoo. “Vice-Minister, Prince of Tarkhan Puntzuk Cheilin. “Vice-Minister, Great Lama of Beliktu, Prince Puntzuk Torgoo. “Minister of Foreign Affairs, Duke Cheilin Torgoo. ““Vice-Minister, Dalai Prince Cheitantnun Lomour. “Vice-Minister, Prince of Ochi, Kaotzuktanba. ‘Minister of War, Prince of Eltoni Jamuyen Torgoo. “Vice-Minister, Prince of Eltoni Selunto Chihloh, *“*Vice-Minister, Prince of Elteni Punktzu Laptan. “Vice-Minister, Prince of Itkemur Chitu Wachir. “Minister of Finance, Prince Lama Loobitsan Paletan. “Vice-Minister, Prince Torgee Cheilin. “Vice-Minister, Prince of Suchuketu Tehmutgu Kejwan. “Minister of Justice, Dalai of Chiechenkhan Wananin. *Vice-Minister, Prince of Daichinchihlun Chackehbatehorhu. **Vice-Minister, Prince of Cholikota Lama Dashtunyupu.” Naturally, the President of China graciously consented to allow the prodigal to return and “killed the fatted calf” by conferring high honors and titles upon the Hutukhtu. More- XXIV INTRODUCTION over, he appointed the Living Buddha’s good friend (?) “Little Hsu” to convey them to him. Thus, Mongolia again has become a part of China. Who knows what the future has in store for her? But events are moving rapidly and by the time this book is published the cur- tain may have risen upon a new act of Mongolia’s tragedy. ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS CHAPTER I ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY Careering madly in a motor car behind a herd of an- telope fleeing like wind-blown ribbons across a desert which isn’t a desert, past caravans of camels led by picturesque Mongol horsemen, the Twentieth Century suddenly and violently interjected into the Middle Ages, should be contrast and paradox enough for even the most blasé sportsman. I am a naturalist who has wan- dered into many of the far corners of the earth. I have seen strange men and things, but what I saw on the great Mongolian plateau fairly took my breath away and left me dazed, utterly unable to adjust my mental per- spective. When leaving Peking in late August, 1918, to cross the Gobi Desert in Mongolia, I knew that I was to go by motor car. But somehow the very names “Mon- golia’” and “Gobi Desert” brought such a vivid picture of the days of Kublai Khan and ancient Cathay that my clouded mind refused to admit the thought of automo- biles. It was enough that I was going to the land of _ which I had so often dreamed. 1 2 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Not even in the railway, when I was being borne toward Kalgan and saw lines of laden camels plodding silently along the paved road beside the train, or when we puffed slowly through the famous Nankou Pass and I saw that wonder of the world, the Great Wall, winding like a gray serpent over ridge after ridge of the mountains, was my dream-picture of mysterious Mon- golia dispelled. I had seen all this before, and had ac- cepted it as one accepts the motor cars beside the splen- did walls of old Peking. It was too near, and the railroad had made it commonplace. But Mongolia! That was different. One could not go there in a roaring train. I had beside me the same old rifle and sleeping bag that had been carried across the mountains of far Yiin-nan, along the Tibetan fron- tier, and through the fever-stricken jungles of Burma. Somehow, these companions of forest and mountain trails, and my reception at Kalgan by two khaki-clad young men, each with a belt of cartridges and a six- shooter strapped about his waist, did much to keep me in a blissful state of unpreparedness for the destruction of my dream-castles. That night as we sat in Mr. Charles Coltman’s home, with his charming wife, a real woman of the great out- doors, presiding at the dinner table, the talk was all of shooting, horses, and the vast, lone spaces of the Gobi Desert—but not much of motor cars. Perhaps they © vaguely realized that I was still asleep in an unreal world and knew that the awakening would come all too soon. = eS Ss ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 3 Yet I was dining that night with one of the men who had destroyed the mystery of Mongolia. In 1916, Colt- man and his former partner, Oscar Mamen, had driven across the plains to Urga, the historic capital of Mon- golia. But most unromantic and incongruous, most dis- heartening to a dreamer of Oriental dreams, was what I learned a few days later when the awakening had really come—that among the first cars ever to cross the desert was one purchased by the Hutukhtu, the Living Buddha, the God of all the Mongols. When the Hutukhtu learned of the first motor car in Mongolia he forthwith demanded one for him- self. So his automobile was brought safely through the rocky pass at Kalgan and across the seven hundred miles of plain to Urga by way of the same old caravan trail over which, centuries ago, Genghis Khan had sent his wild Mongol raiders to conquer China. We arose long before daylight on the morning of August 29. In the courtyard lanterns flashed and dis- appeared like giant fireflies as the mafus (muleteers) packed the baggage and saddled the ponies. The cars had been left on the plateau at a mission station called Hei-ma-hou to avoid the rough going in the pass, and we were to ride there on horseback while the food and bed-rolls went by cart. There were five of us in the party—Mr. and Mrs. Coltman, Mr. and Mrs. Lucander, and myself. I was on a reconnoissance and Mr. Colt- man’s object was to visit his trading station in Urga, where the Lucanders were to remain for the winter. The sun was an hour high when we clattered over the i ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS slippery paving stones to the north gate of the city. Kalgan is built hard against the Great Wall of China— the first line of defense, the outermost rampart in the colossal structure which for so many centuries protected China from Tartar invasion. Beyond it there was noth- ing between us and the great plateau. After our passports had been examined we rode through the gloomy chasm-like gate, turned sharply to the left, and found ourselves standing on the edge of a half-dry river bed. Below us stretched line after line of double-humped camels, some crowded in yellow-brown masses which seemed all heads and curving necks, and some kneeling quietly on the sand. From around a shoulder of tock came other camels, hundreds of them, treading slowly and sedately, nose to tail, toward the gate in the Great Wall. They had come from the far country whither we were bound. To me there is some- thing fascinating about a camel. Perhaps it is because he seems to typify the great waste spaces which I love, that I never tire of watching him swing silently, and seemingly with resistless power, across the desert. _ Our way to Hei-ma-hou led up the dry river bed, with the Great Wall on the left stretching its serpentine length across the hills, and on the right picturesque cliffs two hundred feet in height. At their bases nestle mud- roofed cottages and Chinese inns, but farther up the river the low hills are all of loess—brown, wind-blown dust, packed hard, which can be cut like cheese. De- serted though they seem from a distance, they really teem with human life. Whole villages are half dug, half a ee ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 5 built, into the hillsides, but are well-nigh invisible, for every wall and roof is of the same brown earth. Ten miles or so from Kalgan we began on foot the long climb up the pass which gives entrance to the great plateau. I kept my eyes steadily on the pony’s heels until we reached a broad, flat terrace halfway up the pass. Then I swung about that I might have, all at once, the view which lay below us. It justified my great- est hopes, for miles and miles of rolling hills stretched away to where the far horizon met the Shansi Moun- tains. It was a desolate country which I saw, for every wave in this vast land-sea was cut and slashed by the knives of wind and frost and rain, and lay in a chaotic mass of gaping wounds—cafions, ravines, and gullies, painted in rainbow colors, crossing and cutting one another at fantastic angles as far as the eye could see. When, a few moments later, we reached the very sum- mit of the pass, I felt that no spot I had ever visited sat- isfied my preconceived conceptions quite so thoroughly. Behind and below us lay that stupendous relief map of ravines and gorges; in front was a limitless stretch of undulating plain. I knew then that I really stood upon the edge of the greatest plateau in all the world and that it could be only Mongolia. We had tiffin at a tiny Chinese inn beside the road, and trotted on toward Hei-ma-hou between waving fields of wheat, buckwheat, millet, and oats—oats as thick and “meaty” as any horse could wish to eat. After tiffin Coltman and Lucander rode rapidly ahead 6 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS while I trotted my pony along more slowly in the rear. It was nearly seven o'clock, and the trees about the mis- sion station had been visible for half an hour. I was enjoying a gorgeous sunset which splashed the western sky with gold and red, and lazily watching the black silhouettes of a camel caravan swinging along the sum- mit of a ridge a mile away. On the road beside me a train of laden mules and bullock-carts rested for a mo- ment—the drivers half asleep. Over all the plain there lay the peace of a perfect autumn evening. Suddenly, from behind a little rise, I heard the whir of a motor engine and the raucous voice of a Klaxon horn. Before I realized what it meant, I was in the midst of a mass of plunging, snorting animals, shouting carters, and kicking mules. In’a moment the caravan scattered wildly across the plain and the road was clear save for the author of the turmoil—a black automobile. I wish I could make those who spend their lives within a city know how strange and out of place that motor seemed, alone there upon the open plain on the borders of Mongolia. Imagine a camel or an elephant with all its Oriental trappings suddenly appearing on Fifth Avenue! You would think at once that it had escaped from a circus or a zoo and would be mainly curious as to what the traffic policeman would do when it did not obey his signals. But all the incongruity and the fact that a automo- bile was a glaring anachronism did not prevent my abandoning my horse to the mafu and stretching out comfortably on the cushions of the rear seat. There I ——a -—> ———— ee - — - lt a ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY i had nothing to do but collect the remains of my shat- tered dream-castles as we bounced over the ruts and stones. It was a rude awakening, and I felt half ashamed to admit to myself as the miles sped by that _.the springy seat was more comfortable than the saddle on my Mongol pony. But that night when I strolled about the mission courtyard, under the spell of the starry, desert sky, I drifted back again in thought to the glorious days of Kublai Khan. My heart was hot with resentment that this thing had come. I realized then that, for better or for worse, the sanctity of the desert was gone forever. Camels will still plod their silent way across the age-old plains, but the mystery is lost. The secrets which were yielded up to but a chosen few are open now to all, and _ the world and his wife will speed their noisy course across the miles of rolling prairie, hearing nothing, feeling nothing, knowing nothing of that resistless desert charm which led men out into the Great Unknown. At daylight we packed the cars. Bed-rolls and cans of gasoline were tied on the running boards and every corner was filled with food. Our rifles were ready for use, however, for Coltman had promised a kind of shoot- ing such as I had never seen before. The stories he told _ of wild rides in the car after strings of antelope which traveled at fifty or sixty miles an hour had left me mildly skeptical. But then, you know, I had never seen a Mon- golian antelope run. For twenty or thirty miles after leaving Hei-ma-hou we bounced along over a road which would have been 8 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS > splendid except for the deep ruts cut by mule- and ox- carts. These carts are the despair of any one who hopes some time to see good roads in China. The spike- studded wheels cut into the hardest ground and leave a ‘chaos of ridges and chasms which grows worse with every year. ‘We were seldom out of sight of mud-walled huts or tiny Chinese villages, and Chinese peddlers passed our cars, carrying baskets of fruit or trinkets for the women. Chinese farmers stopped to gaze at us as we bounded over the ruts—in fact it was all Chinese, although we were really in Mongolia. I was very eager to see Mon- gols, to register first impressions of a people of whom I had dreamed so much; but the blue-clad Chinaman was ubiquitous. | For seventy miles from Kalgan it was all the same— Chinese everywhere. The Great Wall was built to keep the Mongols out, and by the same token it should have kept the Chinese in. But the rolling, grassy sea of the vast plateau was too strong a temptation for the Chinese farmer. Encouraged by his own government, which knows the value of just such peaceful penetration, he pushes forward the line of cultivation a dozen miles or so every year. As a result the grassy hills have given place to fields of wheat, oats, millet, buckwheat, and potatoes. The Mongol, above all things, is not a farmer; pos- sibly because, many years ago, the Manchus forbade him to till the soil. Moreover, on the ground he is as awk- ward as a duck out of water and he is never comfortable. | I ALV’ Id NOLLIGGdX 4HL dO YWHdVIDOLoOHa ‘SMAYGNV dor GTLLAAA ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 9 The back of a pony is his real home, and he will do won- derfully well any work which keeps him in the saddle. As Mr. F. A. Larsen in Urga once said, “A Mongol would make a splendid cook if you could give him a - horse to ride about on in the kitchen.” So he leaves to the plodding Chinaman the cultivation of his boundless plains, while he herds his anos Sneee and goats and cattle. — _ About two hours after leaving the mission station we. passed the limit of cultivation and were riding toward the Tabool hills. There Mr. Larsen, the best known foreigner in all Mongolia, has a home, and as we swung past the trail which leads to his house we saw one of his great herds of horses grazing in the distance. All the land in this region has long, rich grass in - summer, and water is by no means scarce. There are frequent wells and streams along the road, and in the distance we often caught a glint of silver from the sur- face of a pond or lake. Flocks of goats and fat-tailed sheep drifted up the valley, and now and then a herd of cattle massed themselves in moving patches on the hillsides. But they are only a fraction of the numbers which this land could easily support. Not far from Tabool is a Mongol village. I jumped out of the car to take a photograph but scrambled in __ again almost as quickly, for as soon as the motor had _ stopped a dozen dogs dashed’ from the houses snarling e. and barking like a pack of wolves.. They are huge FS an _ brutes, these Mongol dogs, and as fierce as they are big. a Every family and every caravan owns one or more, and 10 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS we learned very soon never to approach a native en- campment on foot. | The village was as unlike a Chinese settlement as it well could be, for instead of closely packed mud houses there were circular, latticed frameworks covered with felt and cone-shaped in the upper half. The yurt, as it is called, is perfectly adapted to the Mongols and their life. In the winter a stove is placed in the center, and the house is dry and warm. In the summer the felt covering is sometimes replaced by canvas which can be lifted on any side to allow free passage of air. When it is time for the semiannual migration to new grazing grounds the yurt can be quickly dismantled, the frame- work collapsed, and the house packed on camels or carts. The Mongols of the village were rather disappoint- ing, for many of them show a strong element of Chinese blood. This seems to have developed an unfortunate combination of the worst characteristics of both races. Even where there is no real mixture, their contact with the Chinese has been demoralizing, and they will rob and steal at every opportunity. The headdresses of the southern women are by no means as elaborate as those in the north, When the hills of Tabool had begun to sink on the horizon behind us, we entered upon a vast rolling plain, where there was but little water and not a sign of human life. It resembled nothing so much as the prairies of Nebraska or Dakota, and amid the short grass larkspur and purple thistles glowed in the sunlight like tongues of flame. | | ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 11 There was no lack of birds. In the ponds which we passed earlier in the day we saw hundreds of mallard ducks and teal. The car often frightened golden plover from their dust baths in the road, and crested lapwings flashed across the prairie like sudden storms of autumn leaves. Huge, golden eagles and enormous ravens made tempting targets on the telegraph poles, and in the morning before we left the cultivated area we saw demoiselle cranes in thousands. In this land where wood is absent and everything that will make a fire is of value, I wondered how it hap- pened that the telegraph poles remained untouched, for every one was smooth and round without a splinter gone. The method of protection is simple and entirely Orien- tal. When the line was first erected, the Mongolian government stated in an edict that any man who touched a pole with knife or ax would lose his head. Even on the plains the enforcement of such a law is not so diffi- cult as it might seem, and after a few heads had been taken by way of example the safety of the line was as- sured. Our camp the first night was on a hill slope about one hundred miles from Hei-ma-hou. As soon as the cars had stopped, one man was left to untie the sleeping bags while the rest of us scattered over the plain to hunt ma- terial for a fire. Argul (dried dung) forms the only desert fuel and, although it does not blaze like wood, it will “boil a pot” almost as quickly as charcoal. I was elected to be the cook—a position with distinct advan- 12 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS tages, for in the freezing cold of early morning I could linger about the fire with a good excuse. It was a perfect autumn night. Every star in the world of space seemed to have been crowded into our own particular expanse of sky, and each one glowed like a tiny lantern. When I had found a patch of sand and had dug a trench for my hip and shoulder, I crawled into the sleeping bag and lay for half an hour looking up at the bespangled canopy above my head. Again the magic of the desert night was in my blood, and I blessed the fate which had carried me away from the roar and rush of New York with its hurrying crowds. But I felt a pang of envy when, far away in the dis- tance, there came the mellow notes of a camel-bell. Dong, dong, dong it sounded, clear and sweet as cathe- dral chimes. With surging blood I listened until I caught the measured tread of padded feet, and saw the black silhouettes of rounded bodies and curving necks. Oh, to be with them, to travel as Marco Polo traveled, and to learn to know the heart of the desert in the long night marches! Before I closed my eyes that night I vowed that when the war was done and I was free to travel where I willed, I would come again to the desert as the great Venetian came. : : | | : | CHAPTER II SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT The next morning, ten miles from camp, we passed a party of Russians en route to Kalgan. They were sitting disconsolately beside two huge cars, patching tires and tightening bolts. Their way had been marked by a succession of motor troubles and they were almost discouraged. Woe to the men who venture into the desert with an untried car and without a skilled me- chanic! There are no garages just around the corner— and there are no corners. JLucander’s Chinese boy ex- pressed it with laconic completeness when some one asked him how he liked the country. “Well,” said he, “there’s plenty of room here.” A short distance farther on we found the caravan which had passed us early in the night. They were camped beside a well and the thirsty camels were gorg- ing themselves with water. Except for these wells, the march across the desert would be impossible. They are four or five feet wide, walled with timbers, and partly _ roofed. In some the water is rather brackish but always cool, for it is seldom less than ten feet below the surface. It is useless to speculate as to who dug the wells or when, for this trail has been used for centuries. In some 13 14 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS regions they are fifty or even sixty miles apart, but usu- ally less than that. The camel caravans travel mostly at night. For all his size and apparent strength, a camel is a delicate ani- mal and needs careful handling. He cannot stand the heat of the midday sun and he will not graze at night. So the Gobi caravans start about three or four o’clock in the afternoon and march until one or two the next morning. Then the men pitch a light tent and the cam- els sleep or wander over the plain. At noon on the second day we reached Panj-kiang, the first telegraph station on the line. Its single mud house was visible miles away and we were glad to see it, for our gasoline was getting low. Coltman had sent a plentiful supply by caravan to await us here, and every available inch of space was filled with cans, for we were only one-quarter of the way to Urga. Not far beyond Panj-kiang, a lama monastery has been built beside the road. Its white-walled temple bordered with red and the compound enclosing the liv- ing quarters of the lamas show with startling distinctness on the open plain. We stopped for water at a wella — few hundred yards away, and in five minutes the cars were surrounded by a picturesque group of lamas who ~ streamed across the plain on foot and on horseback, their — yellow and red robes flaming in the sun. They were © amiable enough—in fact, too friendly—and their curi- osity was hardly welcome, for we found one of them test- — ing his knife on the tires and another about to punch — SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 15 a hole in one of the gasoline cans; he hoped it held some- thing to drink that was better than water. Thus far the trail had not been bad, as roads go in _the Gobi, but I was assured that the next hundred miles would be a different story, for we were about to enter the most arid part of the desert between Kalgan and Urga. We were prepared for the only real work of the trip, however, by a taste of the exciting shooting which Coltman had promised me. I had been told that we should see antelope in thou- sands, but all day I had vainly searched the plains for a sign of game. Ten miles from Panj-kiang we were rolling comfortably along on a stretch of good road when Mrs. Coltman, whose eyes are as keen as those of a hawk, excitedly pointed to a knoll on the right, not a hundred yards from the trail. At first I saw nothing but yellow grass; then the whole hillside seemed to be in motion. A moment later I began to distinguish heads and legs and realized that I was looking at an enormous herd of antelope, closely packed together, restlessly watching us. Our rifles were out in an instant and Coltman opened the throttle. ‘The antelope were five or six hundred yards away, and as the car leaped forward they ranged themselves in single file and strung out across the plain. We left the road at once and headed diagonally toward them. For some strange reason, when a horse or car ~ runs parallel with a herd of antelope, the animals will swing in a complete semicircle and cross in front of the pursuer. This is also true of some African species, Bs 16 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Whether they think they are being cut off from some more desirable means of escape I cannot say, but the fact remains that with the open plain on every side they always try to “cross your bows.” I shall never forget the sight of those magnificent ani- mals streaming across the desert! There were at least a thousand of them, and their yellow bodies seemed fairly to skim the earth. I was shouting in excitement, but Coltman said: “They’re not running yet. Wait till we begin to shoot.” I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw the speed- ometer trembling at thirty-five miles, for we were mak- ing a poor showing with the antelope. But then the fatal attraction began to assert itself and the long col- umn bent gradually in our direction. Coltman widened the arc of the circle and held the throttle up as far as it would go. Our speed increased to forty miles and the car began to gain because the antelope were running almost across our course. | They were about two hundred yards away when Colt- man shut off the gas and jammed both brakes, but be- fore the car had stopped they had gained another hundred. I leaped over a pile of bedding and came into action with the .250 Savage high-power as soon as my feet were on the ground. Coltman’s .30 Mauser was already spitting fire from the front seat across the wind- shield, and at his second shot an antelope dropped like lead. My first two bullets struck the dirt far behind the _ rearmost animal, but the third caught a full-grown fe- SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 17 aa male in the side and she plunged forward into the grass. I realized then what Coltman meant when he said that the antelope had not begun to run. At the first shot every animal in the herd seemed to flatten itself and set- tle to its work. They did not run—they simply flew across the ground, their legs showing only as a blur. The one I killed was four hundred yards away, and I held four feet ahead when I pulled the trigger. They could not have been traveling less than fifty-five or sixty miles an hour, for they were running in a semicircle about the car while we were moving at forty miles in a straight line. Those are the facts in the case. I can see my readers raise their brows incredulously, for that is exactly what I would have done before this demonstration. Well, there is one way to prove it and that is to come and try it for yourselves. Moreover, I can see some sportsmen smile for another reason. I mentioned that the antelope I killed was four hundred yards away. I know how far it was, for I paced it off. I may say, in passing, that I had never before killed a running animal at that range. Ninety per cent of my shooting had been well within one hundred and fifty yards, but in Mongolia conditions are most extraordinary. In the brilliant atmosphere an antelope at four hun- dred yards appears as large as it would at one hundred in most other parts of the world; and on the flat plains, where there is not a bush or a shrub to obscure the view, a tiny stone stands out like a golf ball on the putting green. Because of these conditions there is strong temp- ye ed her aaa 18 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS tation to shoot at impossible ranges and to keep on shoot- ing when the game is beyond anything except a lucky chance. Therefore, if any of you go to Mongolia to hunt antelope take plenty of ammunition, and when you return you will never tell how many cartridges you used. Our antelope were tied on the running board of the car and we went back to the road where Lucander was wait- ing. Half the herd had crossed in front of him, but he had failed to bring down an animal. When the excitement was over I began to understand the significance of what we had seen. It was slowly borne in upon me that our car had been going, by the speedometer, at forty miles an hour and that the ante- lope were actually beating us. It was an amazing dis- covery, for I had never dreamed that any living animal could run so fast. It was a discovery, too, which would have important results, for Professor Henry Fairfield Osborn, president of the American Museum of Natural History, even then was carrying on investigations as to the relation of speed to limb structure in various groups of animals. I determined, with Mr. Coltman’s help, to get some real facts in the case—data upon which we could rely. There was an opportunity only to begin the study on ~ the first trip, but we carried it further the following year. Time after time, as we tore madly after antelope, — singly or in herds, I kept my eyes upon the speedometer, — and I feel confident that our observations can be relied — upon. We demonstrated beyond a doubt that the Mon- — golian antelope can reach a speed of from fifty-five to SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 19 sixty miles an hour. This is probably the maximum which is attained only in the initial sprint and after a very short distance the animals must slow down to about _ forty miles; a short distance more and they drop to twenty-five or thirty miles, and at this pace they seem able to continue almost indefinitely. They never ran faster than was necessary to keep well away from us. As we opened the throttle of the car they, too, increased their speed. It was only when we began to shoot and they became thoroughly frightened that they showed what they could do. I remember especially one fine buck which gave us an exhibition of really high-class running. He started al- most opposite to us when we were on a stretch of splen- did road and jogged comfortably along at thirty-five miles an hour. Our car was running at the same speed, but he decided to cross in front and pressed his accelera- tor a little. Coltman also touched ours, and the motor jumped to forty miles. The antelope seemed very much surprised and gave his accelerator another push. Colt- man did likewise, and the speedometer registered forty- five miles. That was about enough for us, and we held our speed. The animal drew ahead on a long curve swinging across in front of the car. He had beaten us by a hundred yards! But we had a surprise in store for him, for Coltman _ suddenly shut off the gas and threw on both brakes. Before the motor had fully stopped we opened fire. The first two bullets struck just behind the antelope and a third kicked the dust between his legs. The shock turned a TE i i ee 20 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS him half over, but he righted himself and ran to his very limit. The bullets spattering all about kept him at it for six hundred yards. He put up a desert hare on the way, but that hare didn’t have a chance with the ante- lope. It reminded me of the story of the negro who had seen a ghost. He ran until he dropped beside the road, but the ghost was right beside him. “Well,” said the ghost, “that was some race we had.” “Yes,” answered the negro, “but: it ain’t nothin’ to what we’re goin’ to have soon’s ever I git my breath. And then,” said the negro, “we ran agin. And I come toa rabbit leggin’ it up the road, and I said, ‘Git out of the way, rabbit, and let some one run what can run!” The last we saw of the antelope was a cloud of yellow dust disappearing over a low rise. The excitement of the chase had been an excellent preparation for the hard work which awaited us not far ahead. The going had been getting heavier with every mile, and at last we reached a long stretch of sandy road which the motors could not pull through. With every one except the driver out of the car, and the engine rac- ing, we pushed and lifted, gaining a few feet each time, until the shifting sand was passed. It meant two hours of violent strain, and we were well-nigh exhausted; a few miles farther, however, it had all to be done again. Where the ground was hard, there was such a chaos of ‘ruts and holes that our arms were almost wrenched from their sockets by the twisting wheels. : This area more nearly approaches a desert than any other part of the road to Urga. The soil is mainly IT ALV Id VITOONOW YSLN0 WOUd TIVUL DNOIT AHL JO GNA AHL LV VITOONOW NUAHLHOS JO NAWOM SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 21 sandy, but the Gobi sagebrush and short bunch grass, although sparse and dry, still give a covering of vege- tation, so that in the distance the ae appears like a rolling meadowland. When we saw our first northern Mongol I was de- lighted. Every one is a study for an artist. He dresses in a long, loose robe of plum color, one corner of which is usually tucked into a gorgeous sash. . On his head is perched an extraordinary hat which looks like a saucer, with upturned edges of black velvet and.a narrow cone- shaped crown of brilliant yellow. ‘Two streamers of red ribbon are usually fastened to the rim at the back, or a plume of peacock feathers if he be of higher rank. On his feet he wears a pair of enormous leather boots with pointed toes. These are always many sizes too large, for as the weather grows colder he pads them out with heavy socks of wool or fur. It is nearly impossible for him to walk in this ungainly footgear, and he wad- dles along exactly like a duck. He is manifestly uncom- fortable and ill at ease, but put him on a horse and you have a different picture. The high-peaked saddle and the horse itself become a part of his anatomy and he will stay there happily fifteen hours of the day. The Mongols ride with short stirrups and, standing nearly upright, lean far over the horse’s neck like our western cowboys. As they tear along at full gallop in their brilliant robes they seem to embody the very spirit of the plains. ‘They are such genial, accommodating fellows, always ready with a pleasant smile, and willing M V | 22 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS to take a sporting chance on anything under the sun, that they won my heart at once. Above all things they love a race, and often one of them would range up beside the car and, with a radiant smile, make signs that he wished to test our speed. Then off he would go like mad, flogging his horse and yelling with delight. We would let him gain at first, and. the © expression of joy and triumph on his face was worth going far to see. Sometimes, if the road was heavy, it would need every ounce of gas the car could take to forge ahead, for the ponies are splendid animals. The Mongols ride only the best and ride them hard, since horses are cheap in Mongolia, and when one is a little worn another is always ready. Not only does the Mongol inspire you with admira- tion for his full-blooded, virile manhood, but also you like him because he likes you. He doesn’t try to disguise the fact. There is a frank openness about his attitude which is wonderfully appealing, and I believe that the average white man can get on terms of easy familiarity, and even intimacy, with Mongols more rapidly than with any other Orientals. Ude is the second telegraph station on the road to © Urga. It has the honor of appearing on most maps of Mongolia and yet it is even less impressive than Panj- — kiang. There are only two mud houses and half a dozen ~ yurts which seem to have been dropped carelessly behind — a ragged hill. | 7 After leaving Ude, we slipped rapidly up and down © a succession of low hills and entered upon a plain so — SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT 23 vast and flat that we appeared to be looking across an ocean. Not the smallest hill or rise cf ground broke the line where earth and sky met in a faint blue haze. Our cars seemed like tiny boats in a limitless, grassy sea, It was sixty miles across, and for three hours the steady hum of the motor hardly ceased, for the road was smooth and hard. Halfway over we saw another great herd of antelope and several groups of ten or twelve. These were a different species from those we had killed, and I got a fine young buck. Twice wolves trotted across the plain, and at one, which was very inquisitive, I did some _ shooting which I vainly try to forget. But most interesting to me among the wild life along our way was the bustard. It is a huge bird, weighing from fifteen to forty pounds, with flesh of such delicate flavor that it rivals our best turkey. I had always wanted to kill a bustard and my first one was neatly _ eviscerated at two hundred yards by a Savage bullet. _ I was more pleased than if I had shot an antelope, per- __ haps because it did much to revive my spirits after the episode of the wolf. Sand grouse, beautiful little gray birds, with wings like pigeons and remarkable, padded feet, whistled over us as we rolled along the road, and my heart was sick with the thought of the excellent shooting we were miss- ing. But there was no time to stop, except for such _ game as actually crossed our path, else we should never have arrived at Urga, the City of the Living God. Speaking of gods, I must not forget to mention the great lamasery at Turin, about one hundred and seventy 24 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS miles from Urga. For hours before we reached it we saw the ragged hills standing sharp and clear against the sky line. The peaks themselves are not more than two hundred feet in height, but they rise from a rocky plateau some distance above the level of the plain. It is a wild spot where some mighty internal force has burst the surface of the earth and pushed up a ragged core of rocks which have been carved by the knives of weather into weird, fantastic shapes. ‘This elemental battle ground is a fit setting for the most remarkable group of human habitations that I have ever seen. Three temples lie in a bowl-shaped hollow, surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of tiny pill-box dwellings painted red and white. There must be a thousand of them and probably twice as many lamas. On the out- skirts of the “city” to the south enormous piles of argul have been collected by the priests and bestowed as votive | offerings by devout travelers. Vast as the supply seemed, it would take all this, and more, to warm the houses of the lamas during the bitter winter months when the ground is covered with snow. On the north © the hills throw protecting arms about the homes of these half-wild men, who have chosen to spend their lives in this lonely desert stronghold. The houses are built of: sawn boards, the first indication we had seen that we — were nearing a forest country. | The remaining one hundred and seventy miles to Urga are a delight, even to the motorist who loves the — paved roads of cities. They are like a boulevard amid ~ glorious, rolling hills luxuriant with long, sweet grass. — ae a eee SPEED MARVELS OF THE GOBI DESERT = 25 In the distance herds of horses and cattle grouped them- selves into moving patches, and fat-tailed sheep dotted the plain like drifts of snow. I have seldom seen a bet- ter grazing country. It needed but little imagination to picture what it will be a few years hence when the inevi- table railroad claims the desert as its own, for this rich land cannot long remain untenanted. It was here that we saw the first marmots, an unfailing indication that we Were in a northern country. The thick blackness of a rainy night had enveloped us long before we swung into the Urga Valley and groped our way along the Tola River bank toward the glim- mering lights of the sacred city. It seemed that we would never reach them, for twice we took the wrong turn and found ourselves in a maze of sandy bottoms and half-grown trees. But at ten o’clock we plowed through the mud of a narrow street and into the court- yard of the Mongolian Trading Company’s home. Oscar Mamen, Coltman’s former partner, and Mrs. Mamen had spent several years there, and for six weeks they had had as guests Messrs. A. M. Guptil and E. B. Price, of Peking. Mr. Guptil was representing the American Military Attaché, and Mr. Price, Assistant Chinese Secretary of the American Legation, had come to Urga to establish communication with our consul at Irkutsk who had not been heard from for more than a ~ month. Urga recently had been pregnant with war possibili- ties. In the Lake Baikal region of Siberia there were several thousand Magyars and many Bolsheviki. It was q 26 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS known that Czechs expected to attack them, and that they would certainly be driven across the borders into Mongolia if defeated. In that event what would be the attitude of the Mongolian government? Would it intern the belligerents, or allow them to use the Urga district as a base of operations? As a matter of fact, the question had been settled just beforé my arrival. The Czechs had made the expected attack with about five hundred men; all the Magyars, to the number of several thousand, had surrendered, and | the Bolsheviki had disappeared like mists before the sun. The front of operations had moved in a single night almost two thousand miles away to the Omsk district, and it was certain that Mongolia would be left in peace. Mr. Price’s work also was done, for the telegraph from Urga to Irkutsk was again in operation and thus com- munication was established with Peking. The morning after my arrival Mr. Guptil and I rode out to see the town. Never have I visited such a city of contrasts, or one to which I was so eager to return. As we did come back, I shall tell, in a future chapter, of what we found there. CHAPTER III A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS This is a “hard luck” chapter. Stories of ill-fortune are not always interesting, but I am writing this one to show what can happen to an automobile in the Gobi. We had gone to Urga without even a puncture and I began to feel that motoring in Mongolia was as simple as riding on Fifth Avenue—more so, in fact, for we did not have to watch traffic policemen or worry about “right of way.” There is no crowding on the Gobi Desert. When we passed a camel caravan or a train of oxcarts we were sure to have plenty of room, for the landscape was usually spotted in every direction with fleeing animals. Our motors had “purred” so steadily that accidents and repair shops seemed very far away and not of much importance. On the return trip, however, the reverse of the picture was presented and I learned that to be alone in the desert when something is wrong with the digestion of your automobile can have its serious aspects. Unless you are an expert mechanic and have an assortment of _ “spare parts,” you may have to walk thirty or forty miles to the nearest water and spend many days of wait- ing until help arrives. Fortunately for us, there are few things which either 27 28 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Coltman or Guptil do not know about the “insides” of a motor and, moreover, after a diagnosis, they both have. the ingenuity to remedy almost any trouble with a ham- mer and a screw driver. Four days after our arrival in Urga we left on the return trip. As occupants of his car Charles Coltman had Mr. Price, Mrs. Coltman, and Mrs. Mamen. With the spiritual and physical assistance of Mr. Guptil I drove the second automobile, carrying in the rear seat a wounded Russian Cossack and a French-Czech, both couriers. The third car was a Ford chassis to which a wooden body had been affixed. It was designed to give increased carrying space, but it looked like a half-grown hayrack and was appropriately called the “agony box.” This was driven by a chauffeur named Wang and car- ried Mamen’s Chinese house boy and an amah besides a miscellaneous assortment of baggage. It was a cold, gray morning when we started, with a cutting wind sweeping down from the north, giving a hint of the bitter winter which in another month would hold all Mongolia in an icy grasp. We made our way eastward up the valley to the Russian bridge across the Tola River and pointed the cars southward on the cara- van trail to Kalgan. Just as we reached the summit of the second long hill, across which the wind was sweeping in a glacial blast, there came a rasping crash somewhere in the motor of my car, followed by a steady knock, knock, knock. “That’s a connecting rod as sure as fate,” said “Gup.” “We'll have to stop.” When he had crawled under the A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 29 car and found that his diagnosis was correct, he said a few other things which ought to have relieved his mind considerably. 7 There was nothing to be done except to replace the broken part with a spare rod. For three freezing hours Gup and Coltman lay upon their backs under the car, while the rest of us gave what help we could. To add to the difficulties a shower of hail swept down upon us with all the fury of a Mongolian storm. It was three o’clock in the afternoon before we were ready to go on, and our camp that night was only sixty miles from Urga. The next day as we passed Turin the Czech pointed out the spot where he had lain for three days and nights with a broken collar bone and a dislocated shoulder. He had come from Irkutsk carrying important dispatches and had taken passage in an automobile belonging to a Chinese company which with difficulty was maintaining a@ passenger service between Urga and Kalgan. As usual, the native chauffeur was dashing along at thirty- five miles an hour when he should not have driven faster than twenty at the most. One of the front wheels slid into a deep rut, the car turned completely over and the resulting casualties numbered one man dead and our Czech seriously injured. It was three days before an- other car carried him back to Urga, where the broken bones were badly set by a drunken Russian doctor. The Cossack, too, had been shot twice in the heavy fighting on the Russian front, and, although his wounds were barely healed, he had just ridden three hundred miles on horseback with dispatches for Peking. 30 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Both my passengers were delighted to have escaped the Chinese motors, for in them accidents had been the rule rather than the exception. During one year nine- teen cars had been smashed and lay in masses of twisted metal beside the road. The difficulty had been largely due to the native chauffeurs. Although these men can drive a car, they have no mechanical training and danger signals from the motor are entirely disregarded. More- over, all Chinese dearly love “show” and the chauffeurs delight in driving at tremendous speed over roads where they should exercise the greatest care. The deep cart ruts are a continual menace, for between them the road is often smooth and fine. But a stone or a tuft of grass may send one of the front wheels into a rut and capsize the car. Even with the greatest care accidents will hap- pen, and motoring in Mongolia is by no means devoid of danger and excitement. About three o’clock in the afternoon of the second day we saw frantic signals from the agony box which had been lumbering along behind us. It appeared that the right rear wheel was broken and the car could go no farther. There was nothing for it but to camp right where we were while Charles repaired the wheel. Gup and I ran twenty miles down the road to look for a well, but without success. The remaining water was divided equally among us but next morning we dis- covered that the Chinese had secreted two extra bottles for themselves, while we had been saving ours to the last drop. It taught me a lesson by which I profited the fol- lowing summer. A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 31 On the third day the agony box limped along until noon, but when we reached a well in the midst of the great plain south of Turin it had to be abandoned, while we went on to Ude, the telegraph station in the middle of the desert, and wired Mamen to bring a spare wheel from Urga. The fourth day there was more trouble with the con- necting rod on my car and we sat for two hours at a well while the motor was eviscerated and reassembled. It had ceased to be a joke, especially to Coltman and Guptil, for all the work fell upon them. By this time they were almost unrecognizable because of dirt and grease and their hands were cut and blistered. But they stood it manfully, and at each new accident Gup rose to greater and greater heights of oratory. We were halfway between Ude and Panj-kiang when we saw two automobiles approaching from the south. _ Their occupants were foreigners we were sure, and as _ they stopped beside us a tall young man came up to my ear. “I am Langdon Warner,” he said. We shook hands and looked at each other curiously. Warner is an archeologist and Director of the Pennsylvania Mu- seum. For ten years we had played a game of hide and seek through half the countries of the Orient and it seemed that we were destined never to meet each other. In 1910 I drifted into the quaint little town of Naha in the Loo-Choo Islands, that forgotten kingdom of the East. At that time it was far off the beaten track and _ very few foreigners had sought it out since 1854, when Commodore Perry negotiated a treaty with its king in 32 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS the picturesque old Shuri Palace. Only a few months before I arrived, Langdon Warner had visited it on a collecting trip and the natives had not yet ceased to talk about the strange foreigner who gave them new baskets for old ones. | A little later Warner preceded me to Japan, and in 1912 I followed him to Korea. Our paths diverged when I went to Alaska in 1913, but I crossed his trail again in China, and in 1916, just before my wife and I left for Yiin-nan, I missed him in Boston where I had gone to lecture at Harvard University. It was strange that after ten years we should meet for the first time in the middle of the Gobi Desert! Warner was proceeding to Urga with two Czech offi- cers who were on their way to Irkutsk. We gave them the latest news of the war situation and much to their disgust they realized that had they waited only two weeks longer they could have gone by train, for the at- tack by the Czechs on the Magyars and the Bolsheviki, in the trans-Baikal region, had cleared the Siberian rail- way westward as far as Omsk. After half an hour’s talk we drove off in opposite directions. Warner event- ually reached Irkutsk, but not without some interesting experiences with Bolsheviki along the way, and I did not see him again until last March (1920), when he came to my office in the American Museum just after we had returned to New York. When we reached Panj-kiang we felt that our motor troubles were at an end, but ten miles beyond the station my car refused to pull through a sand pit and we found “x A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 33 that there was trouble with the differential. It was necessary to dismantle the rear end of the car, and Colt- man and Gup were well-nigh discouraged. The delay _ was a serious matter for I had urgent business in Japan, and it was imperative that I reach Peking as soon as possible. Charles finally decided to send me, together with Price, the Czech, and the Cossack, in his car, while he and Gup remained with the two ladies to repair mine. | Price and I drove back to Panj-kiang to obtain extra food and water for the working party and to telegraph Kalgan for assistance. We took only a little tea, maca- roni, and two tins of sausage, for we expected to reach the mission station at Hei-ma-hou early -the next morning. We were hardly five miles from the broken car when we discovered that there was no more oil for our motor. It was impossible to go much farther and we decided that the only alternative was to wait until the relief party, for which we had wired, arrived from Kalgan. Just then the car swung over the summit of a rise, and _ we saw the white tent and grazing camels of an enor- mous caravan. Of course, Mongols would have mutton fat and why not use that for oil! The caravan leader assured us that he had fat in plenty and in ten minutes a great pot of it was warming over the fire. We poured it into the motor and proceeded merrily on our way. But there was one serious obstacle to our enjoyment of that ride. Events had been moving so rapidly that we had eaten nothing since breakfast, and 34 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS when a delicious odor of roast lamb began to arise from ~ the motor, we realized that we were all very hungry. Dry macaroni would hardly do and the sausage must be saved for dinner. All the afternoon that tantalizing odor hovered in the air and I began to imagine that I could even smell mint sauce. At six o'clock we saw the first yurt and purchased a supply of argul so that we could save time in making camp. The lamps of the car were hors de combat and a watery moon did not give us sufficient light by which to drive in safety, so we stopped on a hilltop shortly after dark. In the morning when the motor was cold we could save time and strength in cranking by push- ing it down the slope. Much to our disgust we found that the argul we had purchased from the Mongol was so mixed with dirt that it would not burn. After half an hour of fruitless work I gave up, and we divided the tin of cold sausage. It was a pretty meager dinner for four hungry men and I retired into my sleeping bag to dream of roast lamb and mint sauce. When the Cossack officer found that he was not to have his tea he was like a child with a stick of candy just out of reach. He tried to sleep but it was no use, and in half an hour I opened my eyes to see him flat on his face blowing lustily at a piece of argul which he had persuaded to emit a faint glow. For two mortal — hours the Russian nursed that fire until his pot of water — reached the boiling point. Then he insisted that we all wake up to share his triumph. We reached the mission station at noon next day, and . Ill “LV Id -- AUOAIN AO HOAWLNIML GHL GNV Sd0vV TIGGIW FHL ef = i 4 4H: YW ii i ti) \ 4 A { ie A MONGOLIAN ANTELOPE KILLED FROM OUR MOTOR CAR } 4 i 3 i WATERING CAMELS AT A WELL IN THE GOBI DESERT PI ti J |) + . ih} ' Ia > . =a < ita rl oat 4 A CHAPTER OF ACCIDENTS 35 Father Weinz, the Belgian priest in charge, gave us the “first meal we had had in thirty-six hours. The Czech courier decided to remain at Hei-ma-hou and go in next day by cart, but we started immediately on the forty- mile horseback ride to Kalgan. A steady rain began about two o’clock in the afternoon, and in half an hour we were soaked to the skin; then the ugly, little gray stallion upon which I had been mounted planted both hind feet squarely on my left leg as we toiled up a long hill-trail to the pass, and I thought that my walking days had ended for all time. At the foot of the pass we- halted at a dirty inn where they told us it would be use- less to go on to Kalgan, for the gates of the city would certainly be closed and it would be impossible to enter until morning. There was no alternative except to spend the night at the inn, but as they had only a grass fire which burned out as soon as the cooking was finished, and as all our clothes were soaked, we spent sleepless hours shivering with cold. The Cossack spoke only Mongol and Russian, and, as neither of us knew a single word of either language, it was difficult to communicate our plans to him. Fi- nally, we found a Chinaman who spoke Mongol and who consented to act as interpreter. The natives at the inn could not understand why we were not able to talk to the Cossack. -Didn’t all white men speak the same language? Mr. Price endeavored to explain that Rus- sian and English differ as much as do Chinese and Mongol, but they only smiled and shook their heads. In the morning I was so stiff from the kick which the 36 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS gray stallion had given me that I could get to his back only with the greatest difficulty, but we reached Kalgan at eight o’clock. Unfortunately, the Cossack had left his passport in the cart which was to follow with his baggage, and the police at the gate would not let us pass. Mr. Price was well known to them and offered to assume responsibility for the Cossack in the name of the American Legation, but the policemen, who were much disgruntled at being roused so early in the morning, refused to let us enter. Their attitude was so obviously absurd that we agreed to take matters into our own hands. We strolled out- side the house and suddenly jumped on our horses. The sentries made a vain attempt to catch our bridle reins and we rode down the street at a sharp trot. There was another police station in the center of the city which it was impossible to avoid and as we ap- proached it we saw a line of soldiers drawn up across the road. Our friends at the gate had telephoned ahead to have us stopped. Without hesitating we kept on, riding straight at the gray-clad policemen. With wildly waving arms they shouted at us to halt, but we paid not the slightest attention, and they had to jump aside to avoid being run down. ‘The spectacle which — these Chinese soldiers presented, as they tried to arrest us, was so ridiculous that we roared with laughter. Imagine what would happen on Fifth Avenue if you disregarded a traffic policeman’s signal to stop! Although the officials knew that we could be found - at Mr. Coltman’s house, we heard nothing further from , d . aac = ~% ga cake = “ ae NOMADS OF THE FOREST 163 moving about in a luxurious growth of grass and tinted leaves. My heart missed a beat, for I thought it was a wapiti. _ Instantly I dropped behind a bush and, as the animal ‘moved into the open, I saw it was an enormous roebuck bearing a splendid pair of antlers. I watched him for a moment, then aimed low behind the foreleg and fired. The deer bounded into the air and rolled to the bottom of the ravine, kicking feebly; my bullet had burst the heart. It was one of the few times I have ever seen an animal instantly killed with a heart shot for usually they run a few yards, and then suddenly collapse. The buck was almost as large as the first one I had killed with Tserin Dorchy but it had a twisted right antler. Evidently it had been injured during the ani- mal’s youth and had continued to grow at right angles to the head, instead of straight up in the normal way, When I reached camp I found Yvette busily picking currants in the bushes beside the stream. Her face and hands were covered with red stains and she looked like a very naughty little boy who had run away from school for a day in the woods. Although blueberries grew on every hillside, we never found strawberries, such as the Russians in Urga gather on the Bogdo-ol, and only one patch of raspberries on a burned-off mountain slope. But the currants were delicious when smothered in sugar. Yvette and I rode out to the spot where I had killed the roebuck to bring it in on Kublai Khan and before we returned the Mongol hunters had reached camp; 4 164 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS neither of them had seen game of any kind. During the day we discovered some huge trout in the stream almost at our door. We had no hooks or lines, but the Mongols devised a way to catch the fish which brought us food, although it would have made a sportsman shiver. ‘They built a dam of stones across the stream and one man waded slowly along, beating the water with a branch to drive the trout out of the pools into the ripples; then we dashed into the water and tried to catch them with our hands, At least a dozen got away but we secured three by cornering them among the rocks. They were huge trout, nearly three feet long. Un- fortunately I was not able to preserve any of them and I do not know what species they represented. The Mongols and Chinese often catch the same fish in the Tola River by means of nets and we sometimes bought them in Urga. One, which we put on the scales, weighed nine pounds. Although Ted MacCallie tried to catch them with a fly at Urga he never had any success but they probably would take live bait. August 20 was our second day in camp. At dawn I was awakened by the patter of rain on the tent and soon it became a steady downpour. There was no use in hunting and I went back to sleep. At seven o’clock Chen, who was fussing about the fire, rushed over to say that he could see two wapiti on the opposite mountain. Yvette and I scrambled out of our sleeping bags just in time to see a doe and a fawn silhouetted against the sky rim as they disappeared over the crest. Half an hour later they returned, and I tried a stalk but I lost LIAW Gilt AGVIVA GDHOTAUAL LV SUaLisaamM IX aLVTd LAgW GMI AHL LY SYOLVLOddS NAWOM NOMADS OF THE FOREST 165 them in the fog and rain. Tserin Dorchy believed that the animals had gone into a patch of forest on the other side of the mountain. We tried to drive them out but the only thing that appeared was a four-year-old roe- buck which the Mongol killed with a single shot. We had ridden up the mountain by zigzagging across the slope, but when we started back I was astounded to see Tserin Dorchy keep to his saddle. The wet grass was so slippery that I could not even stand erect and half the time was sliding on my back, while Kublai Khan picked his way carefully down the steep descent. The Mongol never left his horse till we reached camp. Sometimes he even urged the pony to a trot and, more- over, had the roebuck strapped behind his saddle. I would not have ridden down that mountain side for all the deer in Mongolia! It had begun to rain in earnest by eleven o’clock, and we spent a quiet afternoon. There is a charm about a rainy day when one can read comfortably and let it pour. The steady patter on the tent gives one the de- lightful sensation of immediately escaping extreme dis- comfort. There is no pleasure in being warm unless the weather is cold; and one never realizes how agree- able it is to be dry unless the day is wet. This day was very wet indeed. We had a month’s accumulation of unopened magazines which a Mongol had brought to our base camp just before we left, so there was no chance of being bored. The fire had been built half under a huge, back-log which kept a cheery glow of coals throughout all the downpour, and Chen made us 166 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS “chowdzes’’—delicious little balls of meat mixed with onions and seasoned with Chinese sauce. The Mongols slept and ate and slept some more. We ate and slept and read. Therefore, we were very happy. The weather during that summer in the forest was a source of constant surprise to us. We had never seen such rapid changes from brilliant sunshine to sheets of rain. For an hour or two the sky might ‘stretch above us like a vast blue curtain flecked with tiny masses of snow-white clouds. Suddenly, a leaden blanket would spread itself over every inch of celestial space, while a rush of rain and wind changed the forest to a black chaos of writhing branches and dripping leaves. Im fifteen minutes the storm would sweep across the mountain tops, and the sun would again flood our peaceful valley with the golden light of early autumn. For autumn had already reached us even though the season was only mid-August. It was like October in New York, and we had nightly frosts which withered the countless flowers and turned the leaves to red and gold. In the morning, when I crossed the meadows to the forest, the grass was white with frost and crackled be- neath my feet like delicate threads of spun glass. My moccasins were powdered with gleaming crystals of frozen dew, but at the first touch of sun every twig and leaf and blade of grass began to drip, as though from a heavy rain. My feet and legs waist-high were soaked in half an hour, and at the end of the morning hunt I was as wet as though I had waded a dozen rivers. One cannot move on foot in northern Mongolia with- NOMADS OF THE FOREST 167 out the certainty of a thorough wetting. When the sun has dried the dew, there are swamps and streamlets in every valley and even far up the mountain slopes. It is the heavy rainfall, the rich soil, and the brilliant sunshine that make northern Mongolia a paradise of luxurious grass and flowers, even though the real sum- mer lasts only from May till August. Then, the val- leys are like an exquisite garden and the woods are ablaze with color. Bluebells, their stalks bending under the weight of blossoms, clothe every hillside in a glorious azure dress bespangled with yellow roses, daisies, and forget-me-nots. But I think I like the wild poppies best of all, for their delicate, fragile beauty is wonder- fully appealing. I learned to love them first in Alaska, where their pale, yellow faces look up happily from the storm-swept hills of the Pribilof Islands in the Bering Sea. Besides its flowers, this northern country is one of exceeding beauty. The dark green forests of spruce, larch and pine, broken now and then by a grove of poplars or silver ‘birches, the secluded valleys and the rounded hills are strangely restful and give one a sense of infinite peace. It is a place to go for tired nerves. Ragged peaks, towering mountains, and yawning chasms, splendid as they are, may be subtly disturbing, engendering a feeling of restlessness and vague depres- sion. There is none of this in the forests of Mongolia. We felt as though we might be happy there all our lives —the mad rush of our other world seemed very far away and not much worth while. 168 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS As yet this land has been but lightly touched by the devastating hand of man. A log road cuts the forest here and there and sometimes we saw a train of ox-carts winding through the trees; but the primitive beauty of the mountains remains unmarred, save where a hillside has been swept by fire. In all our wanderings through the forests we saw no evidences of occupation by the Mongols except the wood roads and a few scattered charcoal pits. These were old and moss-grown, and save for ourselves the valleys were deserted. One morning while I was hunting north of camp, I heard a wapiti roar on the summit of a mountain. I found its tracks in the soft earth of a game trail which wound through forest so dense that I could hardly see a dozen yards. As I stole along the path I heard a sud- den sneeze exactly like that of a human being and saw a small, dark animal dash off the trail. I stopped in- stantly and slowly sank to the ground, kneeling mo- tionless, with my rifle ready. For five minutes I remained there—the silence of the forest broken only by the clucking of a hazel grouse above my head. Then came that sneeze again, sounding even more human than before. I heard a nervous patter of tiny hoofs, and the animal sneezed from the bushes at my right. I kept as motionless as a statue, and the sneezes followed each other in rapid succession, accompanied by im- patient stampings and gentle rustlings in the brush. Then I saw a tiny head emerge from behind a leafy screen and a pair of brilliant eyes gazing at me steadily. NOMADS OF THE FOREST 169 Very, very slowly I raised the rifle until the stock nestled against my cheek; then I fired quickly. Running to the spot where the head had been I found a beautiful brown-gray animal lying behind a bush. It was no larger than a half-grown fawn, but on either side of its mouth two daggerlike tusks projected, slender, sharp and ivory white. It was a musk deer—the first living, wild one I had ever seen. Even before I touched the body I inhaled a heavy, not unpleasant, odor of musk and discovered the gland upon the abdomen. It was three inches long and two inches wide, but all the hair-on the rump and belly was strongly impregnated with the odor. These little deer are eagerly sought by the natives throughout the Orient, as musk is valuable for perfume. In Urga the Mongols could sell a “pod”’ for five dollars (silver) and in other parts of China it is worth con- siderably more. When we were in Yiin-nan we fre- quently heard of a musk buyer whom the Paris perfumer, Pinaud, maintained in the remote mountain village of Atunzi, on the Tibetan frontier. Because of their commercial value the little animals are relentlessly persecuted in every country which they inhabit and in some places they have been completely exterminated. Those in Mongolia are particularly dif- ficult to kill, since they live only on the mountain sum- _ mits in the thickest forests. Indeed, were it not for their insatiable curiosity it would be almost impossible ever to shoot them. They might be snared, of course, but I never saw any 170 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS traps or devices for catching animals which the Mon- gols used; they seem to depend entirely upon their guns. This is quite unlike the Chinese, Koreans, Manchus, Malays, and other Orientals with whom I have hunted, for they all have developed ingenious snares, pitfalls and traps. | The musk sac is present only in the male deer and is, of course, for the purpose of attracting the does. Un- fortunately, it is not possible to distinguish the sexes except upon close examination, for both are hornless, and as a result the natives sometimes kill females which they would prefer to leave unmolested. The musk deer use their tusks for fighting and also to dig up the food upon which they live. I frequently found new pine cones which they had torn apart to get at the soft centers. During the winter they develop an exceedingly long, thick coat of hair which, however, is so brittle that it breaks almost like dry pine needles; consequently, the skins have but little commercial value. Late one rainy afternoon Tserin Dorchy and I rode into a beautiful valley not far from where we were camped. When well in the upper end, we left our horses and proceeded on foot toward the summit of a ridge on which he had killed a bear a month earlier. Motioning me to walk to the crest of the ridge from the other side, the old man vanished like a ghost among the trees. When I was nearly at the top I reached the edge of a small patch of burned forest. In the half darkness the charred stumps and skeleton trees were as black as ebony. As I was about to move into the open SE ee Ee NOMADS OF THE FOREST 171 I saw an object which at first seemed to be a curiously shaped stump. I looked at it casually, then something about it arrested my attention. Suddenly a tail switched nervously and I realized that the “stump” was an enor- ‘mous wild boar standing head-on, watching me. I fired instantly, but even as I pressed the trigger the animal moved and I knew that the bullet would never reach its mark. But my brain could not telegraph to my finger quickly enough to stop its action and the boar dashed away unharmed. It was the largest pig I have ever seen. As he stood on the summit of the ridge he looked almost as big as a Mongol pony. It was too dark to follow the animal so I returned to camp, a very dejected man. I have never been able to forget that boar and I sup- pose I never shall. Later, I killed others but they can never destroy the memory of that enormous animal as he stood there looking down at me. Had I realized that it was a pig only the fraction of a second sooner it would have been a different story. But that is the fortune of shooting. In no other sport is the line between success and failure so closely drawn; of course, it is that which makes it so fascinating. At the end of a long day’s hunt one chance may be given; then all depends on a clear eye, a steady hand and, above all, judgment. In your _action in that single golden second rests the success or failure of, perhaps, a season’s trip. You may have trav- eled thousands of miles, spent hundreds of dollars, and had just one shot at the “head of heads.” Some men tell me that they never get excited when 172 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS they hunt. Thank God, I do. There would be no fun at all for me if I didn’t get excited. But, fortunately, it all comes after the crucial moment. When the stock of the rifle settles against my cheek and I look across the sights, I am as cold as steel. I can shoot, and keep on shooting, with every brain cell concentrated on the work in hand but when it is done, for better or worse, I get the reaction which makes it all worth while. One morning, a week after we had been in camp, Tserin Dorchy and I discovered a cow and a calf wapiti feeding in an open forest. It was a delight to see how the old Mongol stalked the deer, slipping from tree to bush, sometimes on his knees or flat on his face in the soft moss carpet. When we were two hundred yards away we drew up behind a stump. I took the cow, while Tserin Dorchy covered the calf and at the sound of our rifles both animals went down for good. I was glad to have them for specimens because. we never got a shot at a bull in Mongolia, although twice I lost one by the merest chance. One of our hunters brought in a three-year-old moose a short time after we got the wapiti and another had a long chase after a wounded bear. | . It was the first week in September when we returned to the base camp, our ponies heavily loaded with skins and antlers. The Chinese taxidermists under my direc- tion had made a splendid collection of small mammals, and we had pretty thoroughly exhausted the resourees of the forests in the Terelche region. Therefore, Yvette | . | | § | NOMADS OF THE FOREST 173 and I decided that it would be well to ride into Urga and make arrangements for our return to Peking. We did the fifty miles with the greatest ease and spent the night with Mamen in Mai-ma-cheng. Next day Mr. and Mrs. MacCallie arrived, much to our de- light. They were to spend the winter in Urga on busi- ness and they brought a supply of much needed am- munition, photographic plates, traps and my Mann- licher rifle. This equipment had been shipped from New York ten months earlier but had only just reached Peking and been released from the Customs through the heroic efforts of Mr. Guptil. We had another two weeks’ hunting trip before we said good-by to Mongolia but it netted few results. All the valleys, which had been deserted when we were there before, were filled with Mongols cutting hay for the winter feed of their sheep and goats. Of course, every camp was guarded by a dog or two, and their con- tinual barking had driven the moose, elk, and bear far back into the deepest forests where we had no time to follow. Mr. and Mrs. MacCallie had taken a house in Urga, just opposite the Russian Consulate, and they enter- tained us while I packed our collections which were stored in Andersen, Meyer’s godown. It was a full ' week’s work, for we had more than a thousand speci- mens. The forests of Mongolia had yielded up their treasures 4s we had not dared to hope they would, and _ we left them with almost as much regret as we had left the plains. 174 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS October first the specimens started southward on camel back. Kublai Khan, my pony, went with them, while we left in the Chinese Government motor cars. For two hundred miles we rushed over the same plains. |] which, a few months earlier, we had laboriously crossed wee with our caravan. Every spot was pregnant with de- HH) lightful memories. At this well we had camped for a Be week and hunted antelope; in that ragged mass of rocks we had killed a wolf; out on the Turin plain we had trapped twenty-six marmots in an enormous colony. 1) Those had been glorious days and our hearts were sad as we raced back to Peking and civilization. But one bright spot remained—we need not yet leave our be- loved East! Far tothe south, in brigand-infested moun- tains on the edge of China, there dwelt a herd of bighorn sheep, the argali of the Mongols. Among them was a great ram, and we had learned his hiding place. How we got him is another story. CHAPTER XIII THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY I know of no other country about which there is so much misinformation as about Mongolia. Because the Gobi Desert stretches through its center the popular conception appears to be that it is a waste of sand and gravel incapable of producing anything. In the pre- ceding chapters I have attempted to give a picture of the country as we found it and, although our interests were purely zodlogical, I should like to present a few notes regarding its commercial possibilities, for I have never seen a land which is readily accessible and is yet so undeveloped. Every year the Far East is becoming increasingly im- portant to the Western World, and especially to the people of the United States, for China and its depend- encies is the logical place for the investment of Ameri- ean capital, It is the last great undeveloped field, and I am interested in seeing the American business man appreciate the great opportunities which await him in the Orient. It is true that the Gobi Desert is a part of Mongolia, but only in its western half is it a desolate waste; in the eastern section it gradually changes into a rolling plain covered with “Gobi sage brush” and short bunch grass. 178 176 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS When one looks closely one sees that the underlying soil is very fine gravel and sand. There is little water in this region except surface ponds, which are usually dry in summer, and caravans depend upon wells. The water in the desert area con- tains some alkali but, except in a few instances, the impregnation is so slight that it is not especially dis- agreeable to the taste. Mr. Larsen told me that there is no part of the country between Kalgan and Urga in which water cannot be found within ten or twenty feet of the surface. I am not prepared to say what this arid region could be made to produce. Doubtless, from the standpoint of agriculture it would be of little impor- tance but sheep and goats could live upon its summer vegetation, I am sure. It is difficult to say where the Gobi really begins or ends when crossing it between Kalgan and Urga, for the grasslands both on the south and north merge so im- perceptibly into the arid central part that there is no real “edge” to the desert; however, it is safe to take Panj-kiang as the southern margin, and Turin as the northern limit, of the Gobi. Both in the north and south the land is rich and fertile—much like the plains of Si- beria or the prairies of Kansas and Nebraska. Such is the eastern Gobi from June to mid-Septem- ber. In the winter, when the dried vegetation exposes the surface soil, the whole aspect of the country is changed and then it does resemble the popular concep- tion of a desert. But what could be more desertlike THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 177 than our north China landscape when frost has stripped away the green clothing of its hills and fields? The Chinese have already demonstrated the agricul- tural possibilities in the south and every year they reap a splendid harvest of oats, wheat, millet, buckwheat and potatoes. On the grass-covered meadowlands, both north and south of the Gobi, there are vast herds of sheep, goats, cattle and horses, but they are only a fraction of the numbers which the pasturage could sup- port. The cattle and sheep which are exported through China can be sent to Kalgan “on the hoof,” for since grass is plentiful, the animals can graze at night and travel during the day. This very materially reduces the cost of transportation. Besides the great quantities of beef and mutton which could be raised and marketed in the Orient, America or Europe, thousands of pounds of wool and camel hair could be exported. Of course both of these articles are produced at the present time, but only in limited quanti- ties. In the region where we spent the summer, the Mongols sometimes do not shear their sheep or camels but gather the wool from the ground when it has dropped off in the natural process of shedding. Prob- ably half of it is lost, and the remainder is full of dirt and grass which detracts greatly from its value. More- over, when it is shipped the impurities add at least twenty per cent to its weight, and the high cost of trans- portation makes this an important factor. Indeed, under proper development the pastoral resources of Mongolia are almost unlimited. 7 a a ee 2 ee c= -— — ————~ et ~ie ———— -_—— 178 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS The Turin-Urga region has another commercial asset in the enormous colonies of marmots which inhabit the country for hundreds of miles to the north, east and west. The marmots are prolific breeders—each pair annually producing six or eight young—and, although their fur is not especially fine, it has always been valu- able for coats. Several million marmot pelts are shipped every year from Mongolia, the finest coming from Uliassutai in the west, and were American steel traps introduced the number could be doubled. Urga is just being discovered as a fur market. Many skins which have been taken well across the Russian frontier are sold in Urga, and as the trade increases it will command a still wider area. Wolves, foxes, lynx, bear, wildcats, sables, martens, squirrels and marmots are brought in by thousands; and great quantities of sheep, goat, cow and antelope hides are sent annually to Kalgan. Several foreign fur houses of considerable importance already have their representatives in Urga and more are coming every year. The possibilities for development in this direction are almost boundless, and I believe that within a very few years Urga will become one of the greatest fur markets of the Orient. As in the south the Chinese farmer cultivates the grasslands of the Mongols, so in the north the Chinese merchant has assumed the trade. Many firms in Peking and Tientsin have branches in Urga and make huge profits in the sale of food, cloth and other essentials to the Mongols and foreigners and in the export of furs, skins and wool, It is well-nigh impossible to touch THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 179 business in Mongolia at any point without coming in contact with the Chinese. All work not connected with animals is assumed by Chinese, for the Mongols are almost useless for any- thing which cannot be done from the back of a horse. Thus the Chinese have a practical monopoly and they exercise all their prerogatives in the enormous prices which they charge for the slightest service. Mongols and foreigners suffer together in this respect, but there is no alternative—the Chinaman can charge what he pleases, for he knows full well that no one else will do the work. Although there is considerable mineral wealth in northern Mongolia, up to the present time very little prospecting has been done. For several years a Rus- sian company has carried on successful operations for gold at the Yero mines, between Urga and Kiakhta on the Siberian frontier, but they have had to import prac- tically all their labor from China. We often passed Chinese in the Gobi Desert walking across Mongolia pushing a wheelbarrow which contained all their earthly belongings. They were on their way to the Yero mines for the summer’s work; in the fall they would return on foot the way they had come. Now that Mongolia is once more a part of the Chinese Republic, the labor problem probably will be improved for there will cer- tainly be an influx of Chinese who are anxious to work. Transportation is the greatest of all commercial fac- tors in the Orient and upon it largely depends the de- velopment of any country. In Mongolia the problem i| 180 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS can be easily solved. At the present time it rests upon camel caravans, ox and pony carts and upon automo- biles for passengers. Camel traffic begins in September and is virtually ended by the first of June. Then their places on the trail are taken by ox- and pony carts. Camels make the journey from Kalgan to Urga in from thirty to fifty days, but the carts require twice as long. They travel slowly, at best, and the animals must be given time to graze and rest. Of course, they cannot cross the desert when the grass is dry, so that transpor- | tation is divided by the season—camels in winter and carts in summer. Each camel carries from four hundred and fifty to five hundred pounds, and the charges for the journey from Kalgan to Urga vary with conditions at from five to fifteen cents (silver) per cattie (one and - one-third pounds). Thus, by the time goods have reached Urga, their value has increased tremendously. I can see no reason why motor trucks could not make the trip and am intending to use them on my next expe- dition. Between Panj-kiang and Turin, the first and third telegraph stations, there is some bad going in spots, but a well made truck with a broad wheel base and a powerful engine certainly could negotiate the sand areas without difficulty. After Turin, where the Gobi may be said to end, the road is like a boulevard. © The motor service for passengers which the Chinese Government maintains between Kalgan and Urga is a branch of the Peking-Suiyuan Railway and has proved successful after some initial difficulties due to careless and inexperienced chauffeurs. Although the service THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 181 badly needs organization to make it entirely safe and comfortable, still it has been effective even in its crude form. At the present time a great part of the business which is done with the Mongols is by barter. The Chi- nese merchants extend credit to the natives for material which they require and accept in return cattle, horses, hides, wool, etc., to be paid at the proper season. In recent years Russian paper rubles and Chinese silver have been the currency of the country, but since the war Russian money has so depreciated that it is now prac- tically valueless. Mongolia greatly needs banking fa- cilities and under the new political conditions undoubt- edly these will be materially increased. A great source of wealth to Mongolia lies in her mag- nificent forests of pine, spruce, larch and birch which stretch away in an almost unbroken line of green to far beyond the Siberian frontier. As yet but small inroads have been made upon these forests, and as I stood one afternoon upon the summit of a mountain gazing over the miles of timbered hills below me, it seemed as though here at least was an inexhaustible supply of splendid lumber. But no more pernicious term was ever coined than “inexhaustible supply!’ I wondered, as I watched - the sun drop into the somber masses of the forest, how long these splendid hills would remain inviolate. Cer- tainly not many years after the Gobi Desert has been crossed by lines of steel, and railroad sheds have re- placed the gold-roofed temples of sacred Urga. We are at the very beginning of the days of flying, 182 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS and no land which contains such magnificent spruce can keep its treasure boxes unspoiled for very long. Even as I write, aéroplanes are waiting in Peking to make their first flight across Mongolia. The desert nomads have not yet ceased to wonder at the motor cars which — cover as many miles of plain in one day as their camels cross inten. But what will they think when twenty men leave Kalgan at noon and dine in Urga at seven o’clock that night! Seven hundred miles mean very little to us now! The start has been made already and, after all, it is largely that which counts. The automobile has come | | to stay, we know; and motor trucks will soon do for freight what has already been done for passengers, not only from Kalgan to Urga, but west to Uliassutai, and on to Kobdo at the very edge of the Altai Mountains. Few spots in Mongolia need remain untouched, if com- mercial calls are strong enough. Last year the first caravans left Feng-chen with — wireless equipment for the eighteen hundred mile jour- — ney across Mongolia to Urumchi in the very heart of central Asia. Construction at Urga is well advanced — and it will soon begin at Kashgar. When these stations are completed Kobdo in Mongolia, Hami in Chinese Turkestan and Sian-fu in Shensi will see wireless shafts — erected; and old Peking will be in touch with the remot- — est spots of her far-flung lands at any time by day or q night. These things are not idle dreams—they are hard busi- a ness facts already in the first stages of accomplishment. — Why, then, should the railroad be long delayed? It © on te pete, Fe THE PASSING OF MONGOLIAN MYSTERY 183 may be built from Kalgan to Urga, or by way of Kwei- hua-cheng—either route is feasible. It will mean a di- rect connection between Shanghai, China’s greatest port, and Verkhin Udinsk on the Trans-Siberian Rail- road via Tientsin, Peking, Kalgan, Urga, Kiakhta. It will shorten the trip to London by at least four days for passengers and freight. It will open for settlement and commercial development a country of boundless possi- bilities and unknown wealth which for centuries has been all but forgotten. Less than seven hundred years ago Mongolia well- nigh ruled the world. Her people were strong beyond belief, but her empire crumbled as quickly as it rose, leaving to posterity only a glorious tradition and a land of mystery. The tradition will endure for centuries; but the motor car and aéroplane and wireless have dis- pelled the mystery forever. CHAPTER XIV THE GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS Hi Away up in northern China, just south of the Mon- BB thik hey golian frontier, is a range of mountains inhabited by | bands of wild sheep. They are wonderful animals, these sheep, with horns like battering-rams. But the ) mountains are also populated by brigands and the two do not form an agreeable combination from the sports- man’s standpoint. In reality they are perfectly nice, well-behaved brig- ands, but occasionally they forget their manners and Ds swoop down upon the caravan road less than a dozen A miles away. This is done only when scouts bring word that cargo valuable enough to make it worth while is about to pass. Each time the brigands make a foray | a return raid by Chinese soldiers can be expected. Oc- — casionally these are real, “honest-to-goodness” fights, and blood may flow on both sides, but the battle some- times takes a different form. With bugles blowing, the soldiers march out to the © hills. ‘Through “middle men” the battle ground has ~ been agreed upon, and a “David” is chosen from the — | a soldiers to meet the “Goliath” of the brigands. But HL David is particularly careful to leave his gun behind, — and to have his “sling” well stuffed with rifle shells. : 184 4 t i” . 1h ae ; ay eee at a he ; “a : i : RR REY Ba : | : ; i # ae On Mh ¢ a4 7 “> ; - | IWIX WLV Id GMONTAOUd ISNVHS HLYON NE SD ITIGMd WAVD ON mn, NYOHSIA NVITOONOW V GNV TIAMATVO ‘a AYWUVH ILIdVM OLLVISV NV GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 185 Goliath advances to the combat armed only with a bag of silver dollars. Then an even trade ensues—a dollar for a cartridge—and the implement of war changes hands. ; The soldiers return to the city with bugles sounding as merrily as when they left. The commander sends a report to Peking of a desperate battle with the brig- ands. He says that, through the extreme valor of his soldiers, the bandits have been dispersed and many killed; that hundreds of cartridges were expended in the fight; therefore, kindly send more as soon as possible. All this because the government has an unfortunate way of forgetting to pay its soldiers in the outlying provinces. When no money is forthcoming and none is visible on the horizon, it is not surprising that they take other means to obtain it. “Battles” of this type are by no means exceptions—they are more nearly the rule in many provinces of China. But what has all this to do with the wild sheep? Its relation is very intimate, for the presence of brigands in those Shansi mountains has made it possible for the ani- mals to exist. The hunting grounds are only five days’ travel from Peking and many foreigners have turned longing eyes toward the mountains. But the brigands always had to be considered. Since Sir Richard Dane, formerly Chief Inspector of the Salt Gabelle, and Mr. Charles Coltman were driven out by the bandits in 1915, the Chinese Government has refused to grant passports to foreigners who wished to shoot in that region. The brigands themselves cannot waste cartridges at one dol- 186 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS lar each on the sheep, so the animals have been allowed to breed unmolested. Nevertheless, there are not many sheep there. They are the last survivors of great herds which once roamed the mountains of north China. The technical name of the species is Ovis commosa (formerly O. jubata) and it is one of the group of bighorns known to sportsmen by the Mongol name of argali. In size, as well as ances- try, the members of this group are the grandfathers of all the sheep. The largest ram of our Rocky Moun- tains is a pygmy compared with a full-grown argali. Hundreds of thousands of years ago the bighorns, which originated in Asia, crossed into Alaska by way of the Bering Sea, where there was probably a land connection at that time. From Alaska they gradually worked southward, along the mountains of the western coast, into Mexico and Lower California. In the course of time, changed environment developed different species; but the migration route from the Old World to the New is there for all to read. The supreme trophy of a sportsman’s life is the head of a Mongolian bighorn sheep. I think it was Rex Beach who said, “Some men can shoot but not climb. Some can climb but not shoot. To get a sheep zm must be able to climb and shoot, too.” For its Hall of Asiatic Life, the American Museum of Natural History needed a group of argali. More- over, we wanted a ram which would fairly represent the species, and that meant a very big one. The Reverend Harry R. Caldwell, with whom I had hunted tiger in i 4 a ; , GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 187 south China, volunteered to get them with me. The brigands did not worry us unduly, for we both have had considerable experience with Chinese bandits and we feel that they are like animals—if you don’t tease them, they won’t bite. In this case the “teasing” takes the form of carrying anything that they could readily dis- pose of—especially money. I decided that my wife must remain in Peking. She was in open rebellion but there was just a possibility that the brigands might annoy us, and we had determined to have those sheep regardless of consequences. Although we did not expect trouble, I knew that Harry Caldwell could be relied upon in any emergency. When a man will crawl into a tiger’s lair, a tangle of sword grass and thorns, just to find out what the brute has had for dinner; when he will walk into the open in dim light and shoot, with a .22 high-power rifle, a tiger which is just ready to charge; when he will go alone and unarmed into the mountains to meet a band of brigands who have been terrorizing the country, it means that he has more nerve than any one man needs in this life! After leaving the train at Feng-chen, the journey was like all others in north China; slow progress with a cart over atrocious roads which are either a mass of sticky mud or inches deep in fine brown dust. We had four days of it before we reached the mountains but the trip was full of interest to us both, for along the road there was an ever-changing picture of provincial life. To Harry it was especially illuminating because he had spent nineteen years in south China and had never be- 188 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS fore visited the north, He began to realize what every one soon learns who wanders much about the Middle Kingdom—that it is never safe to generalize in this strange land. Conditions true of one region may be absolutely unknown a few hundred miles away. He was continually irritated to find that his perfect know!- edge of the dialect of Fukien Province was utterly use- less. He was well-nigh as helpless as though he had never been in China, for the languages of the north and the south are almost as unlike as are French and Ger- man. Even our “boys” who were from Peking had some difficulty in making themselves understood, although we were not more than two hundred miles from the capital. Instead of hills thickly clothed with sword grass, here the slopes were bare and brown. We were too far north for rice; corn, wheat, and kaoliang took the place of paddy fields. Instead of brick-walled houses we found dwellings made of clay like the “adobe” of Mexico and Arizona. Sometimes whole villages were dug into the hillside and the natives were cave dwellers, spending their lives within the earth. All north China is spread with loess. During the Glacial Period, about one hundred thousand years ago, when in Europe and America great rivers of ice were descending from the north, central and eastern Asia seems to have suffered a progressive dehydration. There was little moisture in the air so that ice could not be formed. Instead, the climate was cold and dry, while violent winds carried the dust in whirling clouds for | . GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 189 hundreds upon hundreds of miles, spreading it in ever thickening layers over the hills and plains. Therefore, the “Ice Age” for Europe and nicrsegeii was a “Dust Age” for northeastern Asia. The inns were a constant source of interest to us both. Their spacious courtyards contrasted strangely with the filthy “hotels” of southern China, In the north all the traffic is by cart, and there must be accommodation for hundreds of vehicles; in the south whére goods are car- ried by boats, coolies, or on donkey back, extensive com- pounds are unnecessary. Each night, wherever we ar- rived, we found the courtyard teeming with life and motion. Line after line of laden carts wound in through the wide swinging gates and lined up in orderly array; there was the steady “crunch, crunch, crunch” of feeding animals, shouts for the jonggweda (landlord), and good-natured chaffing among the carters. In the great kitchen, which is also the sleeping room, over blazing fires fanned by bellows, pots of soup and macaroni were steaming. On the two great kangs (bed platforms), heated from below by long flues radiating outward from the cooking fires, dozens of mafus were noisily sucking in their food or already snoring contentedly, rolled in their dusty coats. Many kinds of folk were there; rich merchants en- veloped in splendid sable coats and traveling in padded carts; peddlers with packs of trinkets for the women; wandering doctors selling remedies of herbs, tonics made from deerhorns or tigers’ teeth, and wonderful potions of “dragons’ bones.” Perhaps there was a Buddhist 190 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS priest or two, a barber, or a tailor. Often a professional entertainer sat cross-legged on the kang telling endless stories or singing for hours at a time in a high-pitched, nasal voice, accompanying himself upon a tiny snake- skin violin. It was like a stage drama of concentrated Chinese country life. Among this polyglot assembly perhaps there may be a single man who has arrived with a pack upon his back. He is indistinguishable from the other travelers and mingles among the mafus, helping now and then to feed a horse or adjust a load. But his ears and eyes are open. He is a brigand scout who is there to learn what is pass- ing on the road. He hears all the gossip from neigh- boring towns as well as of those many miles away, for the inns are the newspapers of rural China, and it is every one’s business to tell all he knows. The scout marks a caravan, then slips away into the mountains to report to the leader of his band. The attack may not take place for many days. While the unsuspecting mafus are plodding on their way, the bandits are hover- ing on the outskirts among the hills until the time is ripe to strike. : I have learned that these brigand scouts are my best protection, for when a foreigner arrives at a country inn all other subjects of conversation lose their interest. Everything about him is discussed and rediscussed, and the scouts discover all there is to know. Probably the only things I ever carry which a bandit could use or dispose of readily, are arms and ammunition. But two or three guns are hardly worth the trouble which would GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 191 follow the death of a foreigner. The brigands know that there would be no sham battle with Chinese soldiers in that event, for the Legations at Peking have a habit of demanding reparation from the Government and insist- -ing that they get it. As a raison détre for our trip Caldwell and I had been hunting ducks, geese, and pheasants industriously along the way, and not even the “boys” knew our real destination. We had looked forward with great eagerness to the Tai Hai, a large lake, where it was said that water fowl congregated in thousands during the spring and fall. We reached the lake the second night after leaving Feng-cheng. Darkness had just closed about us when we crossed the summit of a high mountain range and descended into a narrow, winding cut which eventually led us out upon the flat plains of the Tai Hai basin. While we were in the pass a dozen flocks of geese slipped by above our heads, flying very low, the “wedges” show- ing black against the starlit sky. With much difficulty we found an inn close beside the lake and, after a late supper, snuggled into our fur bags to be lulled to sleep by that music most dear to a sports- man’s heart, the subdued clamor of thousands of water- fowl settling themselves for the night. At daylight we dressed hurriedly and ran to the lake shore. Harry took a station away from the water at the base of the hills, while I dropped behind three coni- cal mounds which the natives had constructed to obtain salt by evaporation. 192 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS I was hardly in position before two geese came straight for me. Waiting until they were almost above my head, I knocked down both with a right and left. The shots put thousands of birds in motion. Flock after flock of geese rose into the air, and long lines of ducks skimmed close to the surface, settling away from shore or on the mud flats near the water’s edge. No more birds came near me, and in fifteen min- utes I returned to the inn for breakfast. Harry ap- peared shortly after with only a mallard duck, for he had guessed wrong as to the direction of the flight, and was entirely out of the shooting. When the carts had started at eight o’clock Harry and I rode down the shore of the lake to the south, with Chen to hold our horses. The mud flats were dotted with hundreds of ruddy sheldrakes, their beautiful bod- ies glowing red and gold in the sunlight. A hundred yards from shore half a dozen swans drifted about like floating snow banks, and ducks and geese by thousands rose or Settled in the lake. We saw a flock of mallards alight in the short marsh grass and when I fired at least five hundred greenheads, yellow-nibs, and pintails rose in a brown cloud. ; Crouched behind the salt mounds, we had splendid shooting and then rode on to join the carts, our ponies loaded with ducks and geese. The road swung about to the north, and we saw geese in tens of thousands coming into the lake across the mountain passes from their summer breeding grounds in Mongolia and far Siberia. Regiment after regiment swept past, circled away to the GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 193 west, and dropped into the water as though at the com- mand of a field marshal. Although we were following the main road to Kwei- hua-cheng, a city of considerable importance not far from the mountains which contained the sheep, we had no intention of going there. Neither did we wish to pass through any place where there might be soldiers, so on the last day’s march we left the highway and fol- lowed an unimportant trail to the tiny village of Wu- shi-tu, which nestles against the mountain’s base. Here we made our camp in a Chinese house and obtained two Mongol hunters. We had hoped to live in tents, but there was not a stick of wood for fuel. The natives burn either coal or grass and twigs, but these would not keep us warm in an open camp. About the village rose a chaotic mass of saw-toothed mountains cut, to the east, by a stupendous gorge. We stood silent with awe, when we first climbed a winding, white trail to the summit of the mountain and gazed into the abysmal depths. My eye followed an eagle which floated across the chasm to its perch on a project- ing crag; thence down the sheer face of the cliff a thou- sand feet to the stream which has carved this colossal cafion from the living rock. Like a shining silver trac- ing it twisted and turned, foaming over rocks and run- ning in smooth, green sheets between vertical walls of granite. To the north we looked across at a splendid panorama of saw-toothed peaks and ragged pinnacles tinted with delicate shades of pink and lavender. Be- neath our feet were slabs of pure white marble and great 194 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS blocks of greenish feldspar. Among the peaks were deep ravines and, farther to the east, rolling uplands carpeted with grass. There the sheep are found. We killed only one goral and a roebuck during the first two days, for a violent gale made hunting well-nigh impossible. On the third morning the sun rose in a sky as blue as the waters of a tropic sea, and not a breath of air stirred the silver poplar leaves as we crossed the rocky stream bed to the base of the mountains north of camp. Fifteen hundred feet above us towered a ragged granite ridge which must be crossed ere we could gain entrance to-the grassy valleys beyond the barrier. _ We had toiled halfway up the slope, when my hunter sank into the grass, pointed upward, and whispered, “nan-yang’ (wild sheep). There, on the very summit of the highest pinnacle, stood a magnificent ram sil- houetted against the sky. It was a stage introduction to the greatest game animal in all the world. Motionless, as though sculptured from the living granite, it gazed across the valley toward the village whence we had come. Through my glasses I could see every detail of its splendid body—the wash of gray with which many winters had tinged its neck and flanks, the finely drawn legs, and the massive horns curling about a head as proudly held as that of a Roman warrior. He stood like a statue for half an hour, while we crouched motionless in the trail below; then he turned deliberately and disappeared. When we reached the summit of the ridge the ram was nowhere to be seen, but we found his tracks on a path GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 195 leading down a knifelike outcrop to the bottom of an- other valley. I felt sure that he would turn eastward toward the grassy uplands, but Na-mon-gin, my Mon- gol hunter, pointed north to a sea of ragged mountains. We groaned as we looked at those towering peaks; _ moreover, it seemed hopeless to hunt for a single animal in that chaos of ravines and cafions. We had already learned, however, that the Mongol knew almost as much about what a sheep would do as did the animal itself. It was positively uncanny. Per- haps we would see a herd of sheep half a mile away. The old fellow would seat himself, nonchalantly fill his pipe and puff contentedly, now and then glancing at the animals. In a few moments he would announce what was about to happen, and he was seldom wrong. Therefore, when he descended to the bottom of the valley we accepted his dictum without a protest. At the creek bed Harry and his young hunter left us to follow a deep ravine which led upward a little to the left, while Na-mon-gin and I climbed to the crest by way of a precipitous ridge. Not fifteen minutes after we parted, Harry’s rifle banged three times in quick succession, the reports roll- ing out from the gorge in majestic waves of sound. A moment later the old Mongol saw three sheep silhouetted for an instant against the sky as they scrambled across the ridge. Then a voice floated faintly up to me from out the cafion. “T’ve got a f-i-n-e r-a-m,” it said, “a b-e-a-u-t-y,” and even at that distance I could hear its happy ring. 4 196 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS “Good for Harry,” I thought. “He certainly de- served it after his work of last night;” for on the way home his hunter had seen an enormous ram climbing a mountain side and they had followed it to the summit only to lose its trail in the gathering darkness. Harry had stumbled into camp, half dead with fatigue, but with his enthusiasm undiminished. , When Na-mon-gin and I had reached the highest peak and found a trail which led along the mountain side just below the crest, we kept steadily on, now and then stopping to scan the grassy ravines and valleys which radiated from the ridge like the ribs of a giant fan. At half past eleven, as we rounded a rocky shoul- der, I saw four sheep feeding in the bottom of a gorge far below us. Quite unconscious of our presence, they worked out — of the ravine across a low spur and into a deep gorge where the grass still showed a tinge of green. As the last one disappeared, we dashed down the slope and came up just above the sheep. With my glasses I could see that the leader carried a fair pair of horns, but that the other three rams were small, as argali go. Lying flat, I pushed my rifle over the crest and aimed at the biggest ram. Three or four tiny grass stems were directly in my line of sight, and fearing that they might deflect my bullet, I drew back and shifted my position — a few feet to the right. One of the sheep must have seen the movement, al- © though we were directly above them, and instantly all — were off. In four jumps they had disappeared around ~ GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 197 a bowlder, giving me time for only a hurried shot at the last one’s white rump-patch. The bullet struck a few inches behind the ram, and the valley was empty. Looking down where they had been so quietly feed- ing only a few moments before, I called myself all _known varieties of a fool. I felt very bad indeed that I had bungled hopelessly my first chance at an argali. But the sympathetic old hunter patted me on the shoul- der and said in Chinese, “Never mind. They were small ones anyway—not worth having.” They were very much worth having to me, however, and all the light seemed to have gone out of the world. We smoked a cigarette, but there was no consolation in that, and I followed the hunter around the peak with a heart as heavy as lead. Half an hour later we sat down for a look around. I studied every ridge and gully with my glasses with- out seeing a sign of life. The four sheep had disap- peared as completely as though one of the yawning ra- vines had swallowed them up; the great valley bathed in golden sunlight was deserted and as silent as the tomb. I was just tearing the wrapper from a piece of choco- late when the hunter touched me on the arm and said quietly, “Pan-yang li la” (A sheep has come). He pointed far down a ridge running out at a right angle to the one on which we were sitting, but I could see nothing. Then I scanned every square inch of rock, but still saw no sign of life. The hunter laughingly whispered, “I can see better | i. | | ; Hh | 198 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS than you can even with your foreign eyes. He is stand- Va | ing in that trail—he may come right up to us.” I tried again, following the thin, white line as it wound from us along the side of the knifelike ridge. Just where it vanished into space I saw the sheep, a ii splendid ram, standing like a statue of gray-brown eae granite and gazing squarely at us. He was fully half hi a mile away, but the hunter had seen him the instant he ed appeared. Without my glasses the animal was merely ea a a blur to me, but the marvelous eyes of the Mongol could detect its every movement. “It is the same one we saw this morning,” he said. “I was sure we would find him over here. He has very big horns—much better than those others.” That was quite true; but the others had given me a shot and this ram, splendid as he was, seemed as un- obtainable as the stars. For an hour we watched him. Sometimes he would turn about to look across the ra- vines on either side and once he came a dozen feet to- ward us along the path. The hunter smoked quietly, now and then looking through my glasses. “After a while he will go to sleep,” he said, “then we can shoot him.” I must confess that I had but little hope. The ram seemed too splendid and much, much too far away. But | i I could feast my eyes on his magnificent head and al- mah most count the rings on his curling horns. nis A flock of red-legged partridges sailed across from RI the opposite ridge, uttering their rapid-fire call and Hi) alighted almost at our feet. Then each one seemed to : GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 199 melt into the mountain side, vanishing like magic among the grass and stones. I wondered mildly why they had concealed themselves so suddenly, but a moment later there sounded a subdued whir, like the motor of an aéro- plane far up in the sky. Three shadows drifted over, and I saw three huge black eagles swinging in ever lowering circles about our heads. I knew then that the partridges had sought the protection of our presence from their mortal enemies, the eagles. When I looked at the sheep again he was lying down squarely in the trail, lazily raising his head now and then to gaze about. The hunter inspected the ram through my glasses and prepared to go. We rolled slowly over the ridge and then hurried around to the projecting spur at the end of which the ram was lying. The going was very bad indeed. Pieces of crumbled granite were continually slipping under foot, and at - times we had to cling like flies to a wall of rock with a sheer drop of hundreds of feet below us. Twice the Mongol cautiously looked over the ridge, but each time shook his head and worked his way a little farther. At last he motioned me to slide up beside him. Pushing my rifle over the rock before me, I raised myself a few inches and saw the massive head and neck of the ram two hundred yards away. His body was behind a rocky shoulder, but he was looking squarely at us and in a second would be off. I aimed carefully just under his chin, and at the roar of the high-power shell, the ram leaped backward. “You hit him,” said the Mongol, but I felt he must be ryt | 200 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS wrong;; if the bullet had found the neck he would have dropped like lead. Never in all my years of hunting have I had a feeling of such intense surprise and self-disgust. I had been certain of the shot and it was impossible to believe that I had missed. A lump rose in my throat and I sat with my head resting on my hands in the uttermost depths of dejection. And then the impossible happened! Why it hap- pened, I shall never know. A kind Providence must — have directed the actions of the sheep, for, as I raised my — eyes, I saw again that enormous head and neck appear — from behind a rock a hundred yards away; just that head with its circlet of massive horns and the neck— nothing more. Almost in a daze I lifted my rifle, saw the little ivory bead of the front sight center on that gray neck, and touched the trigger. A thousand echoes crashed back upon us. There was a clatter of stones, a — confused vision of a ponderous bulk heaving up and back—and all was still. But it was enough for me; — there could be’no mistake this time. The ram was mine. The sudden transition from utter dejection to the greatest triumph of a sportsman’s life set me wild with — joy. I yelled and pounded the old Mongol on the back until he begged for mercy; then I whirled him about in © a war dance on the summit of the ridge. I wanted to leap down the rocks where the sheep had disappeared but the hunter held my arm. For ten minutes we sat — there waiting to make sure that the ram would not dash GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 201 away while we were out of sight in the ravine below. But I knew in my heart that it was all unnecessary. My bullet had gone where I wanted it to go and that was quite enough. No sheep that ever walked could live with a Mannlicher ball squarely in its neck. When we finally descended, the animal lay halfway down the slope, feebly kicking. What a huge brute he was, and what a glorious head! I had never dreamed that an argali could be so splendid. His horns were perfect, and my hands could not meet around them at the base. Then, of course, I wanted to know what had hap- ’ pened at my first shot. The evidence was there upon his face. My bullet had gone an inch high, struck him in the corner of the mouth, and emerged from his right cheek. It must have been a painful wound, and I shall never cease to wonder what strange impulse brought him back after he had been so badly stung. The second ball had been centered in the neck as though in the bull’s-eye of a target. The skin and head of the sheep made a pack weigh- ing nearly one hundred pounds, and the old Mongol groaned as he looked up at the mountain barriers which separated us from camp. On the summit of the first ridge we found the trail over which we had passed in the morning. Half an hour later the hunter jerked me violently behind a ledge of rock. “Pan-yang,’ he whispered, “there, on the mountain side. Can’t you see him?” I could not, and he tried to point to it with my rifle. Just at that instant what I had supposed to be a 202 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS brown rock came to life in a whirl of dust and vanished into the ravine below. | We waited breathlessly for perhaps a minute—it seemed hours—then the head and shoulders of a sheep appeared from behind a bowlder. I aimed low and fired, and the animal crumpled in its tracks. A second later two rams and a ewe dashed from the same spot and stopped upon the hillside less than a hundred yards away. Instinctively I sighted on the largest but dropped my rifle without touching the trigger. The sheep was small, and even if we did need him for the group we could not carry his head and skin to camp that night. The wolves would surely have found his carcass before dawn, and it would have been a useless waste of life. The one I had killed was a fine young ram. With the skin, head, and parts of the meat packed upon my shoulders we started homeward at six o’clock. Our only exit lay down the river bed in the bottom of a great cafion, for in the darkness it would have been dan- gerous to follow the trail along the cliffs. In half an hour it was black night in the gorge. The vertical walls of rock shut out even the starlight, and we could not see more than a dozen feet ahead. I shall never forget that walk. After wading the stream twenty-eight times I lost count. I was too cold and tired and had fallen over too many rocks to have it | make the slightest difference how many more than twenty-eight times we went into the icy water. The hundred-pound pack upon my back weighed more every GREAT RAM OF THE SHANSI MOUNTAINS 2038 hour, but the thought of those two splendid rams was as good as bread and wine. Harry was considerably worried when we reached camp at eleven o’clock, for in the village there had been - much talk of bandits. Even before dinner we meas- ured the rams and found that the horns of the one he had killed exceeded the published records for the species by half an inch in circumference. The horns were forty- seven inches in length, but were broken at the tips; the original length was fifty-one inches; the circumference at the base was twenty inches. Moreover, mine was not far behind in size. As I snuggled into my fur sleeping bag that night, I realized that it had been the most satisfactory hunting day of my life. The success of the group was assured, with a record ram for the central figure. We had three specimens already, and the others would not be hard to get. The next morning four soldiers were waiting in the courtyard when we awoke. With many apologies they informed us that they had been sent by the commander of the garrison at Kwei-hua-cheng to ask us to go back with them. The mountains were very dangerous; brig- ands were swarming in the surrounding country; the commandant was greatly worried for our safety. Therefore, would we be so kind as to break camp at once. We told them politely, but firmly, that it was impos- sible for us to comply with their request. We needed the sheep for a great museum in New York, and we 204 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS could not return without them. As they could see for themselves our passports had been properly viséed by the Foreign Office in Peking, and we were prepared to stay. The soldiers returned to Kwei-hua-cheng, and the following day we were honored by a visit from the com- mandant himself. To him we repeated our determina- tion to remain. He evidently realized that we could not be dislodged and suggested a compromise arrangement. He would send soldiers to guard our house and to ac- company us while we were hunting. We assented read- ily, because we knew Chinese soldiers. Of course, the sentinel at the door troubled us not at all, and the ones who were to accompany us were easily disposed of. For the first day’s hunt with our guard we selected the roughest part of the mountain, and set such a terrific pace up the almost perpendicular slope that before long they were left far behind. They never bothered us again. CHAPTER XV. MONGOLIAN ARGALI Although we had seen nearly a dozen sheep where we killed our first three rams, the mountains were deserted when Harry returned the following morning. He hunted faithfully, but did not see even a roebuck; the sheep all had left for other feeding grounds. I re- mained in camp to superintend the preparation of our specimens. The next day we had a glorious hunt. By six o’clock we were climbing the winding, white trail west of camp, and for half an hour we stood gazing into the gloomy depths of the stupendous gorge, as yet unlighted by the morning sun. Then we separated, each making toward the grassy uplands by different routes. Na-mon-gin led me along the summit of a broken ridge, but, evidently, he did not expect to find sheep in the ravines, for he kept straight on, mile after mile, with never a halt for rest. At last we reached a point where the plateau rolled away in grassy waves of brown. We were circling a rounded hill, just below the crest, when, not thirty yards away, three splendid roe deer jumped to their feet and stood as though frozen, gazing at us; then, with a snort, they dashed down the slope and up the other side. They had not yet disappeared, when two 205 206 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS other bucks crossed a ridge into the bottom of the draw. It was a sore trial to let them go, but the old hunter had his hand upon my arm and shook his head. Passing the summit of the hill, we sat down for a look around. Before us, nearly a mile away, three shal- low, grass-filled valleys dropped steeply from the roll- ing meadowland. Almost instantly through my binoc- ulars I caught the moving forms of three sheep in the bottom of the central draw. “Pan-yang,”’ I said to the Mongol. “Yes, yes, I see them,” he answered. “One has very big horns.” He was quite right; for the largest ram carried a splendid head, and the other was by no means small. The third was a tiny ewe. The animals wandered about nibbling at the grass, but did not move out of the valley bottom. After studying them awhile the hunter remarked, “Soon they will go to sleep. We'll wait till then. They would hear or smell us if we went over now.” ; I ate one of the three pears I had brought for tiffin and smoked a cigarette. The hunter stretched himself out comfortably upon the grass and pulled away at his pipe. It was very pleasant there, for we were protected from the wind, and the-sun was delightfully warm. I watched the sheep through the glasses and wondered if © | I should carry home the splendid ram that night. Fi- nally the little ewe lay down and the others followed her example. We were just preparing to go when the hunter touched my arm. “Pan-yang,’ he whispered. “There, coming over the hill. Don’t move.” Sure enough, a MONGOLIAN ARGALI 207 sheep was trotting slowly down the hillside in our di- rection. Why he did not see or smell us, I cannot imagine, for the wind was in his direction. But he came on, passed within one hundred feet, and stopped on the summit of the opposite swell. What a shot! He was so close that I could have counted the rings on his horns—and they were good horns, too, just the size we wanted for the group. But the hunter would not let me shoot. His heart was set upon the big ram peacefully sleeping a mile away. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” is a motto which I have followed with good success in hunt- ing, and I was loath to let that argali go even for the prospect of the big one across the valley. But I had a profound respect for the opinion of my hunter. He usually guessed right, and I had found it safe to fol- low his advice. So we watched the sheep walk slowly over the crest of the hill. The Mongol did not tell me then, but he knew that the animal was on his way to join the others, and his silence cost us the big ram. You may wonder how he knew it. I can only answer that what that: Mongol did not know about the ways of sheep was not worth learning. He seemed to think as the sheep thought, but, withal, was a most intelligent and delight- ful companion. His ready sympathy, his keen humor, and his interest in helping me get the finest specimens of the animals I wanted, endeared him to me in a way which only a sportsman can understand. His Shansi dialect and my limited Mandarin made a curious com- 2 208 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS bination of the Chinese language, but we could al- ways piece it out with signs, and we never misunder- stood each other on any important matter. We had many friendly differences of opinion about the way in which to conduct a stalk, and his childlike glee when he was proved correct was most refreshing. One morning I got the better of him, and for days he could not forget it. We were sitting on a hillside, and with my glasses I picked up a herd of sheep far away on the uplands. “Yes,” he said, “one is a very big ram.” How he could tell at that distance was a mys- tery to me, but I did not question his statement for he had proved too often that his range of sight was al- most beyond belief. We started toward the sheep, and after half a mile I looked again. Then I thought I saw a grasscutter, and the animals seemed like donkeys. I said as much but the hunter laughed. “Why, I saw the horns,” he said. “One is a big one, a very big one.” I stopped a second time and made out a native bending over, cut- ting grass. But I could not convince the Mongol. He disdained my glasses and would not even put them to his eyes. “I don’t have to—I know they are sheep,” he laughed. But I, too, was sure. “Well, we'll see,” he said. When we looked again, there could be no mis- take; the sheep were donkeys. It was a treat to watch the Mongol’s face, and I made much capital of his mis- take, for he had so often teased me when I was wrong. But to return to the sheep across the valley which we were stalking on that sunlit Thursday noon. After MONGOLIAN ARGALI 209 the ram had disappeared we made our way slowly around the hilltop, whence he had come, to gain a con- necting meadow which would bring us to the ravine where the argali were sleeping. On the way I was in -a fever of indecision. Ought I to have let that ram go? He was just what we wanted for the group, and something might happen to prevent a shot at the oth- ers. It was “a bird in the hand” again, and I had been false to the motto which had so often proved true. Then the “something” I had feared did happen. We saw a grasscutter with two donkeys emerge from a ravine on the left and strike along the grassy bridge five hundred yards beyond us. If he turned to the right across the upper edge of the meadows, we could whistle for our sheep. Even if he kept straight ahead, possibly they might scent him. 'The Mongol’s face was like a thundercloud. I believe he would have strangled that grasscutter could he have had him in his hands. But the Fates were kind, and the man with his donkeys kept to the left across the uplands. Even then my Mongol would not hurry. His motto was “Slowly, slowly,” and we seemed barely to crawl up the slope of the shallow valley which I hoped still held the sheep. On the summit of the draw the old hunter motioned me behind him and cautiously raised his head. Then a little farther. Another step and a long look. He stood on tiptoe, and, settling back, quietly motioned me to move up beside him. . Just then a gust of wind swept across the hilltop and into the ravine. There was a rush of feet, a clat- 210 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS ter of sliding rock, and three argali dashed into view on the opposite slope. They stopped two hundred yards away. My hunter was frantically whispering, “One more. Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.” I was at a loss to understand, for I knew there were only three sheep in the draw. The two rams both seemed enor- mous, and I let drive at the leader. He went down like lead—shot through the shoulders. 'The two others ran a few yards and stopped again. When I fired, the sheep whirled about but did not fall. I threw in an- other shell and held the sight well down. The “putt” of a bullet on flesh came distinctly to us, but the ram stood without a motion. The third shot was too much, and he slumped for- ward, rolled over, and crashed to the bottom of the ravine. All the time Na-mon-gin was frantically whis- pering, “Not right. Not right. The big one. The big one.” As the second sheep went down I learned the rea- son. Out from the valley directly below us rushed a huge ram, washed with white on the neck and shoulders and carrying a pair of enormous, curling horns. I was too surprised to move. How could four sheep be there, when I knew there were only three! Usually I am perfectly cool when shooting and have all my excitement when the work is done, but the un- expected advent of that ram turned on the thrills a bit too soon. I forgot what I had whispered to myself at every shot, “Aim low, aim low. You are shooting down hill.” I held squarely on his gray-white shoulder and pulled the trigger. The bullet just grazed his ; 1 ' F MONGOLIAN ARGALI 211 back. He ran a few steps and stopped. Again I fired hurriedly, and the ball missed him by the fraction of an inch. I saw it strike and came to my senses with a jerk; but it was too late, for the rifle was empty. Be- fore I could cram in another shell the sheep was gone. Na-mon-gin was absolutely disgusted. Even though I had killed two fine rams, he wanted the big one. “But,” I said, “where did the fourth sheep come from? I saw only three.” He looked at me in amazement. “Didn't you know that the ram which walked by us went over to the others?’ he answered. “Any one ought to have known that much.” Well, I hadn’t known. Otherwise, I should have held my fire. Right there the Mongol read me a lecture on too much haste. He said I was like every other for- eigner—always in arush. He said a lot of other things which I accepted meekly, for I knew that he was right. I always am ina hurry. Missing that ram had taken most of the joy out of the others; and to make matters worse, the magnificent animal stationed himself on the very hillside where we had been sitting when we saw them first and, with the little ewe close beside him, watched us for half an hour. Na-mon-gin glared at him and shook his fist. “We'll _ get you to-morrow, you old rabbit,” he said; and then to me, “Don’t you care. I won’t eat till we kill him.” For the next ten minutes the kindly old Mongol devoted himself to bringing a smile to my lips. He told me he knew just where that ram would go; we couldn’t have carried in his head anyway; that it would - 212 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS be much better to save him for to-morrow; and that I had killed the other two so beautifully that he was proud of me. I continued to feel better when I saw the two dead argali, They were both fine rams, in perfect condi- tion, with beautiful horns. One of them was the sheep which had walked so close to us; there was no doubt of — that, for I had been able to see the details of his “face and figure.” Every argali has its own special charac- ters which are unmistakable. In the carriage of his head, the curve of his horns, and in coloration, he is as individual as a human being. While we were examining the sheep, Harry and his hunter appeared upon the rim of the ravine. They brought with them, on a donkey, the skin and head of . a fine two-year-old ram which he had killed an hour ear- lier far beyond us on the uplands. it fitted exactly into our series, and when we had another big ram and © two ewes, the group would be complete. Poor Harry was hobbling along just able to walk. He had strained a tendon in his right leg the previ- ous morning, and had been enduring the most excru- ciating pain all day. He wanted to stay and help us skin the sheep, but I would not let him. We were a long way from camp, and it would require all his strength to get back at all. At half-past four we finished with the sheep, and — tied the skins and much of the meat on the two don- } keys which Harry had commandeered. Our only way home lay down the river bed, for in the darkness we MONGOLIAN ARGALI 213 could not follow the trail along the cliffs. By six o'clock it was black night in the gorge. The donkeys were our only salvation, for by instinct —it couldn’t have been sight—they followed the trail along the base of the cliffs. By keeping my hands upon the back of the rearmost animal, and the two Mongols close to me, we got out of the cafion and into the wider valley. When we reached the village I was hungry enough to eat chips, for I had had only three pears since six o’clock in the morning, and it was then nine at night. Harry, limping into camp just after dark, had met my cousin, Commander Thomas Hutchins, Naval At- taché of the American Legation, and Major Austin Barker of the British Army, whom we had been ex- pecting. They had reached the village about ten o'clock in the morning and spent the afternoon shoot- ing hares near a beautiful temple which Harry had discovered among the hills three miles from camp. The boys had waited dinner for me, and we ate it amid a gale of laughter—we were always laughing during the five days that Tom and Barker were with us. Harry was out of the hunting the next day because his leg needed a complete rest. I took Tom out with me, while Barker was piloted by an old Mongol who gave promise of being a good hunter. Tom and I climbed the white trail to the summit of the ridge, while Barker turned off to the left to gain the peaks on the other side of the gorge. Na-mon-gin was keen for the big ram which I had missed the day before. He had fie 214 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS a very definite impression of just where that sheep was to be found, and he completely ignored the ravines on either side of the trail. Not half a mile from the summit of the pass, the Mongol stopped and said, “Pan-yang—on that ridge across the valley.” He looked again and turned to me with a smile. “It is:the same ram,” he said. “I knew he would be here.” Sure enough, when I found the sheep with my glasses, I recognized our old friend. The little ewe was with him, and they had been joined by another ram carrying a circlet of horns, not far short of the big fellow’s in size. For half an hour we watched them while the Mon- gols smoked. The sheep were standing on the very crest of a ridge across the river, moving a few steps now and then, but never going far from where we first discovered them. My hunter said that soon they would go to sleep, and in less than half an hour they filed down hill into the valley; then we, too, went down, crossed a low ridge, and descended to the river’s edge. The climb up the other side was decidedly stiff, and it was nearly an hour before we were peering into the ra- vine where the sheep had disappeared. They were not there, and the hunter said they had gone either up or down the valley—he could not tell which way. We went up first, but no sheep. Then we crossed — to the ridge where we had first seen the argali and cau- tiously looked over a ledge of rocks. There they were, about three hundred yards below, and on the alert, for — they had seen Tom’s hunter, who had carelessly ex- MONGOLIAN ARGALI 215 posed himself on the crest of the ridge. Tom fired hurriedly, neglecting to remember that he was shooting down hill, and, consequently, overshot the big ram. They rushed off, two shots of mine falling short at nearly four hundred yards as they disappeared behind a rocky ledge. My Mongol said that we might intercept them if we hurried, and he led me a merry chase into the bottom of the ravine and up the other side. The sheep were there, but standing in an amphitheater formed by in- accessible cliffs. I advocated going to the ridge above and trying for a shot, but the hunter scoffed at the idea. He said that they would surely scent or hear us long before we could see them. Tom and his Mongol joined us in a short time, and for an hour we lay in the sunshine waiting for the sheep to compose themselves. It was delightfully warm, and we were perfectly content to remain all the afternoon amid the glorious panorama of encircling peaks, At last Na-mon-gin prepared to leave. He indi- cated that we were to go below and that Tom’s hunter was to drive the sheep toward us. When we reached the river, the Mongol placed Tom behind a rock at the mouth of the amphitheater. He took me halfway up the slope, and we settled ourselves behind two bowlders. I was breathing hard from the strenuous climb, and the old fellow waited until I was ready to shoot; then he gave a signal, and Tom’s hunter appeared at the very summit of the rocky amphitheater. Instantly the 216 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS sheep were on the move, running directly toward us. They seemed to be as large as elephants, for never be- fore had I been as close to a living argali. Just as the animals mounted the crest of a rocky ledge, not more than fifty yards away, Na-mon-gin whistled sharply, and the sheep stopped as though turned to stone. “Now,” he whispered, “shoot.” As I brought my rifle to the level it banged in the air. I had been show- ing the hunters how to use the delicate set-trigger, and had carelessly left it on. The sheep instantly dashed away, but there was only one avenue of escape, and ~ that was down hill past me. My second shot broke the hind leg of the big ram; the third struck him in the abdomen, low down, and he staggered, but kept on. The sheep had reached the bottom of the valley before my fourth bullet broke his neck. Tom opened fire when the other rar and the ewe appeared at the mouth of the amphitheater, but his rear sight had been loosened in the climb down the cliff, and his shots went wild. It was hard luck, for I was very anxious to have him kill an argali. The abdomen shot would have finished the big ram eventually, and I might have killed the other before it crossed the creek; but experience has taught me that it is best to take no chances with a wounded animal in rough country such as this. I have lost too many specimens by being loath to finish them off when they were badly hit. | | My ram was a beauty. His horns were almost equal to those of the record head which Harry had killed on el ee ee ee ee =r” a i ~ — - bf _ PLATE XIV 5 WHERE THE BIGHORN SHEEP ARE FOUND wongdouw NVITOONOW V THE “HORSE-DEER” OF SHANSI All the morning our carts had bumped and rattled over the stones in a somber valley one hundred and fifty i* from where we had killed the sheep. With every mile the precipitous cliffs-pressed in more closely upon us until at last the gorge was blocked by a sheer wall of rock. Our destination was a village named Wu-tai-hai, but there appeared to be no possible place for a village in that narrow cafion. We were a quarter of a mile from the barrier before we could distinguish a group of mud-walled huts, seem- ingly plastered against the rock like a collection of swallows’ nests. No one but a Chinese would have dreamed of building a house in that desolate place. It was Wu-tai-hai, without a doubt, and Harry and I rode forward to investigate. At the door of a tiny hut we were met by one of our Chinese taxidermists. He ushered us into the _ court and, with a wave of his hand, announced, “This is the American Legation.” The yard was a mass of _ straw and mud. From the gaping windows of the house bits of torn paper fluttered in the wind; inside, at one end of the largest room, was a bed platform 1A ki equals about one-third of a mile. 219 220 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS made of mud; at the other, a fat mother hog with five squirming “piglets” sprawled contentedly on the dirt floor. Six years before Colonel (then Captain) Thomas Holcomb, of the United States Marine Corps, | had spent several days at this hut while hunting elk. Wake Therefore, it will be known to Peking Chinese until a the end of time as the “American Legation.” An inspection of the remaining houses in the village disclosed no better quarters, so our boys ousted the sow and her family, swept the house, spread the kang and floor with clean straw, and pasted fresh paper over the windows. We longed to use our tents, but there i was nothing except straw or grass to burn, and cook- ing would be impossible. The villagers were too poor to buy coal from Kwei-hua-cheng, forty miles away, and there was not a sign of wood on the bare, brown hills. At the edge of the kang, in these north Shansi houses, there is always a clay stove which supports a huge iron pot. A hand bellows is built into the side of the stove, and by feeding straw or grass with one hand and ener- getically manipulating the bellows with the other, a fire sufficient for simple cooking is obtained. Except for a few hours of the day the house is as cold as the yard outside, but the natives mind it not at ile all. Men and women alike dress in sheepskin coats Rau and padded cotton trousers. They do not expect to | remove their clothing when they come indoors, and warmth, except at night, is a nonessential in their | | scheme of life. A system of flues draws the heat from oe THE “HORSE-DEER” OF SHANSI 221 the cooking fires underneath the kang, and the clay bricks retain their temperature for several hours. At best the north China natives lead a cheerless ex- istence in winter. The house is not a home. Dark, cold, dirty, it is merely a place in which to eat and sleep. There is no home-making instinct in the Chinese wife, for a centuries’ old social system, based on the Con- fucian ethics, has smothered every thought of the priv- ileges of womanhood. Her place is to cook, sew, and bear children; to reflect only the thoughts of her lord and master—to have none of her own. Ww-tai-hai was typical of villages of its class in all north China; mud huts, each with a tiny courtyard, built end to end in a corner of the hillside. A few acres of ground in the valley bottom and on the mountain side capable of cultivation yield enough wheat, corn, turnips, cabbages, and potatoes to give the natives food. Their life is one of work with few pleasures, and yet they are content because they know nothing else. Imagine, then, what it meant when we suddenly in- jected ourselves into their midst. We had come from a world beyond the mountains—a world of which they had sometimes heard, but which was as unreal to them as that of another planet. Europe and America were merely names. A few had learned from passing sol- diers that these strange men in that dim, far land had been fighting among themselves and that China, too, was in some vague way connected with the struggle. But it had not affected them in their tiny rock-bound village. ‘Their world was encompassed within the val- 222 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS ley walls or, in its uttermost limits, extended to Kwei- hua-cheng, forty miles away. They knew, even, that — a “fire carriage” running on two rails of steel came regularly to Feng-chen, four days’ travel to the east, but few of them had ever seen it. So it was almost as unreal as stories of the war and aéroplanes and automobiles. All the village gathered at the “American Lega- tion” while we unpacked our carts. They gazed in silent awe at our guns and cameras and sleeping bags, but the trays of specimens brought forth an active re- sponse. Here was something that was a part of their own life—something they could understand. Mice and rabbits like these they had seen in their own fields; that weasel was the same kind of animal which sometimes stole their chickens. They pointed to the rocks when they saw a red-legged partridge, and told us there were many there; also pheasants. Why we wanted the skins they could not understand, of course. I told them that we would take them far away across the ocean to America and put them in a great house as large as that hill across the valley; but they smilingly shook their heads. ‘The ocean meant nothing to them, and as for a house as large as a hill— well, there never could be such a place. ‘They were per- fectly sure of that. We had come to Wu-tai-hai to hunt wapiti—ma-lu (horse-deer) the natives call them—and they assured us that we could find them on the mountains behind ~ the village. Only last night, said one of the men, he © — - = ee a . pr «4 THE “HORSE-DEER” OF SHANSI 223 had seen four standing on the hillside. Two had ant- lers as long as that stick, but they were no good now —the horns were hard—we should have come in the spring when they were soft. ‘Then each pair was worth $150, at least, and big ones even more. ‘The doctors make wonderful medicine from the horns—only a lit- tle of it would cure any disease no matter how bad it was. They themselves could not get the ma-lu, for the soldiers had long since taken away all their guns, but they would show us where they were. It was pleasant to hear all this, for we wanted some of those wapiti very badly, indeed. It is one of the links in the chain of evidence connecting the animals of the Old World and the New—the problem which makes Asia the most fascinating hunting ground of all the earth. When the early settlers first penetrated the forests of America they found the great deer which the In- dians called “wapiti.” It was supposed for many years that it inhabited only America, but not long ago similar deer were discovered in China, Manchuria, Korea, Mon- golia, Siberia, and Turkestan, where undoubtedly the American species originated. Its white discoverers er- roneously named the animal “elk,” but as this title properly belongs to the Kuropean “moose,” sportsmen have adopted the Indian name “wapiti’” to avoid con- fusion. Of course, changed environment developed different “species” in all the animals which migrated from Asia either to Europe or America, but their re- lationships are very close, indeed. 224 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS The particular wapiti which we hoped to get at Wu- tai-hai represented a species almost extinct in China. Because of relentless persecution when the antlers are growing and in the “velvet” and continual cutting of the forests only a few individuals remain in this remote corner of northern Shansi Province. These will soon all be killed, for the railroad is being extended to within a few miles of their last stronghold, and sportsmen will flock to the hills from the treaty ports of China. Our first hunt was on November first. We left camp by a short cut behind the village and descended to the bowlder-strewn bed of the creek which led into a tre- mendous gorge. We felt very small and helpless as our eyes traveled up the well-nigh vertical walls to the ragged edge of the chasm a thousand feet above us. The mightiness of it all was vaguely depressing, and it was with a distinct feeling of relief that we saw the cafion widen suddenly into a gigantic amphitheater. In its very center, rising from a ragged granite pedestal, a pinnacle of rock, crowned by a tiny temple, shot into the air. It was three hundred feet, at least, from the stream bed to the summit of the spire—and what a colossal task it must have been to transport the build- ing materials for the temple up the sheer sides of rock! The valley sinners must gain much merit from the dan- ger and effort involved in climbing there to worship. Farther on we passed two villages and then turned. off to the right up a tributary valley. We were anx- iously looking for signs of forest, but the only possible cover was in a few ravines where a sparse growth of WV GHOOTH AHL JO GVAH AHL 5) tt BEE at alin Be J ASIATIC MAP OF MONGOLIA AND CHINA SHOWING ROUTE OF SECOND EXPEDITION IN BROKEN LINES THE “HORSE-DEER” OF SHANSI 225 birch and poplar bushes, not more than six or eight feet high, grew on the north slope. Moreover, we could see that the valley ended in open rolling up- lands. Turning to Na-mon-gin, I said, “How much farther are the ma-lu?” “Here,” he answered. “We have al- ready arrived. They are in the bushes on the moun- tain side.” Caldwell and I were astounded. The idea of look- ing for wapiti in such a place seemed too absurd! There was hardly enough cover successfully to conceal a rab- bit, to say nothing of an animal as large as a horse. Nevertheless, the hunters assured us that the ma-lu were there, and we began to take a new interest in the birch scrub. Almost immediately we saw three roe- buck near the rim of one of the ravines, their white rump-patches showing conspicuously as they bobbed about in the thin cover. We could have killed them easily, but the hunters would not let us shoot, for we were after larger game. A few moments later we separated, Harry keeping on up the main valley, while my hunter and I turned into a patch of brush directly above us. We had not gone fifty yards when there was a crash, a rush of feet, and four wapiti dashed through the bushes. The three cows kept straight on, but the bull stopped just on the crest of the ridge directly behind a thick screen of twigs. My rifle was sighted at the huge body dimly visible through the branches. In a moment I would have touched the trigger, but the hunter caught my arm, 226 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS whispering frantically, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Of course I knew it was a long chance, for the bullet almost certainly would have been deflected by the twigs, but those splendid antlers seemed very near and very, very desirable. I lowered my rifle reluctantly, and the bull disappeared over the hill crest whence the cows had gone. “They'll stop in the next ravine,” said the hunter, but when we cautiously peered over the ridge the ani- mals were not there—nor were they in the next. At last we found their trail leading into the grassy uplands; but the possibility of finding wapiti, these animals of the forests, on those treeless slopes seemed too absurd even to consider. Yet, the old Mongol kept straight on across the rolling meadow. Suddenly, off at the right, Harry’s rifle banged three times in quick succession—then an interval, and two more shots. Ten seconds later three wapiti cows showed black against the sky line. They were coming fast and straight toward us. We flattened ourselves in the grass, lying as motionless as two gray bowlders, and a moment later another wapiti appeared behind the cows. As the sun glistened on his branching ant- lers there was no doubt that he was a bull, and a big one, too. The cows were headed to pass about two hundred yards above us and behind the hill crest. I could eas- ily have reached the summit where they would have been at my mercy, but lower down the big bull also was coming, and the hunter would not let me move. “Wait, b THE “HORSE-DEER” OF SHANSI 227 wait,” he whispered, “we'll surely get him. Wait, we can’t lose him.” “What about that ravine?” I answered. “He'll go into the cover. He will never come across this open hillside. I’m going to shoot.” “No, no, he won’t turn there. I am sure he won’t.” The Mongol was right. The big fellow ran straight toward us until he came to the entrance to the val- ley. My heart was in my mouth as he stopped for an instant and looked down into the cover. ‘Then, for some strange reason, he turned and came on. ‘Three hundred yards away he halted suddenly, swung about, and looked at the ravine again as if half decided to go back. He was standing broadside, and at the crash of my rifle we could hear the soft thud of the bullet striking flesh; but without a sign of injury he ran forward and stopped under a swell of ground. I could see just ten inches of his. back and the magnificent head. It was a small target at three hundred yards, and I missed him _ twice. With the greatest care I held the little ivory bead well down on that thin brown line, but the bullet only creased his back. It was no use—I simply could not hit him. Running up the hill a few feet, I had his whole body exposed, and the first shot put him down for good. With a whoop of joy my old Mongol dashed down the steep slope. I had never seen him excited while we were hunting sheep, but now he was wild with de- _ light. Before he had quieted we saw Harry coming 228 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS over the hill where the wapiti had first appeared. He told us that he had knocked the bull down at long range and had expected to find him dead until he heard me shooting. We found where his bullet had struck the wapiti in the shoulder, yet the animal was running as though untouched. I examined the bull with the greatest interest, for it was the first Asiatic wapiti of this species that I had ever seen. Its splendid antlers carried eleven points but they were not as massive in the beam or as sharply bent backward at the tips as are those of the American elk. Because of its richer coloration, however, it was decidedly handsomer than any of the American ani- mals. But the really extraordinary thing was to find the wapiti there at all. It seemed as incongruous as the first automobile that I saw upon the Gobi Desert, for in every other part of the world the animal is a resi- dent of the park-like openings in the forests. Here not — a twig or bush was in sight, only the rolling, grass- — covered uplands. Undoubtedly these mountains had been wooded many years ago, and as the trees were cut away, the animals had no alternative except to die or — adapt themselves to almost plains conditions. The sparse birch scrub in the ravines still afforded them limited protection during the day, but they could feed only at night. It was a case of rapid adaptation to changed environment such as I have seen nowhere else in all the world. The wapiti, of course, owed their continued exist- — —s . THE “HORSE-DEER” OF SHANSI 229 ence to the fact that the Chinese villagers of the valley had no firearms; otherwise, when the growing antlers set a price upon their heads, they would all have been exterminated within a year or two. CHAPTER XVII WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL After the first day we left the “American Legation” and moved camp to one of two villages at the upper end of the valley about a mile nearer the hunting grounds. ‘There were only half a dozen huts, but they were somewhat superior to those of Wu-tai-hai, and we were able to make ourselves fairly comfortable. The usual threshing floor of hard clay adjoined each house, and all day we could hear the steady beat, beat, beat, of the flails pounding out the wheat. The grain was usually freed from chaff we the sim- ple process of throwing it into the air when a brisk — wind was blowing, but we saw several hand winnowing machines which were exceedingly ingenious and very effective. The wheat was ground between two circular stones operated by a blindfolded donkey which plodded round and round tied to a shaft. Of course, had the © animal been able to see he would not have walked con- tinuously in a circle without giving trouble to his master. Behind our new house the cliffs rose in sheer walls for hundreds of feet, and red-legged partridges, or chuckars, were always calling from some ledge or bowlder. We could have excellent shooting at almost — any hour of the day and often picked up pheasants, — 230 ’ WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 231 bearded partridges, and rabbits in the tiny fields across the stream. JBesides the wapiti and roebuck, goral were plentiful on the cliffs and there were a few sheep in the lower valley. Altogether it was a veritable game paradise, but one which I fear will last only a few years longer. We found that the wapiti were not as easy to kill as the first day’s hunt had given us reason to believe. The mountains, separated by deep ravines, were so high and precipitous that if the deer became alarmed and crossed a valley it meant a climb of an hour or more to reach the crest of the new ridge. It was killing work, and we returned to camp every night utterly exhausted. The concentration of animal life in these scrub-filled gorges was really extraordinary, and I hope that a “game hog”’ never finds that valley. Probably in no other part of China can one see as many roebuck in a space so limited. It is due, of course, to the unusual conditions. Instead of being scattered over a large area, as is usual in the forest where there is an abun- dance of .cover, the animals are confined to the few ra- vines in which brush remains. The surrounding open hills isolate them almost as effectively as though they were encircled by water; when driven from one patch of cover they can only run to the next valley. The facility with which the roebuck and wapiti had adapted themselves to utterly new conditions was a con- _ tinual marvel to me, and I never lost the feeling of sur- ‘ Ee 21g NS RTD -- " prise when I saw the animals on the open hillside or running across the rolling, treeless uplands. Had an 232 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS elephant or a rhinoceros suddenly appeared in place of a deer, it would not have seemed more incongruous. After we had killed the first wapiti we did not fire a shot for two days, even though roebuck were all about us and we wanted a series for the Museum. This spe- cies, Capreolus bedfordi, is smaller both in body and in antlers than the one we obtained in Mongolia and dif- fers decidedly. in coloration. | On the second hunt I, alone, saw forty-five roebuck, and Harry, who was far to the north of me, counted thirty-one. The third day we were together and put out at least half as many. During that time we saw two wapiti, but did not get a shot at either. Both of us were becoming decidedly tired of passing specimens which we wanted badly and decided to go for roebuck regardless of the possibility of frightening wapiti by the shooting. Na-mon-gin and the other hunters were disgusted with our decision, for they were only inter- ested in the larger game. For the first two drives they worked only half-heartedly, and although seventeen deer were put out of one ravine, they escaped without giving us a shot. Harry and I held a council of war with the natives and impressed upon them the fact that we were intend- — ing to hunt roebuck that day regardless of their per- sonal wishes. They realized that we were not to be dissuaded and prepared to drive the next patch of cover in a really businesslike manner. Na-mon-gin took me to a position on the edge of a projecting rock to await the natives. As they ap- WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 233 peared on the rim of the ravine we saw five roe deer move in the bushes where they had been asleep. Four of them broke back through the line of beaters, but one fine buck came straight toward us. He ran up the slope and crossed a rock-saddle almost beneath me, but I did not fire until he was well away on the opposite hillside; then he plunged forward in his tracks, dead. Without moving from our position we sent the men _ over the crest of the mountain to drive the ravines on the other side. The old Mongol and I stretched out upon the rock and smoked for half an hour, while I tried to tell him in my best Chinese—which is very bad —the story of a bear hunt in Alaska. I had just killed the bear, in my narrative, when we saw five roebuck appear on the sky line. They trotted straight toward Harry, and in a moment we heard two shots in quick succession. I knew that meant at least one more deer. Five minutes later we made out a roebuck rounding the base of the spur on which we sat. It seemed no larger than a brown rabbit at that distance, but the animal was running directly up the bottom of the ra- vine which we commanded. It was a buck carrying splendid antlers and we watched him come steadily on until he was almost below us. Na-mon-gin whispered, “Don’t shoot until he stops”; but it seemed that the animal would cross the ridge without a pause. He was almost at the summit when he halted for an instant, facing directly away from us. I fired, and the buck leaped backward shot through the neck. 234 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Na-mon-gin was in high good humor, for I had killed two deer with two shots. Harry brought a splendid doe which he had bored neatly through the body as it dashed at full speed across the valley below him. Even i the old Mongol had to admit that the wapiti could not AE have been greatly disturbed by the shooting, and all the ae men were as pleased as children. There was meat [ i enough for all our boys as well as for the beaters. Pena) Our next day’s hunt was for goral on the precipitous cliffs north of camp. Goral belong to a most interest- 1) ing group of mammals known as the “goat-antelopes” AI) because of the intermediate position which they occupy between the true antelope and the goats. The takin, serow, and goral are the Asiatic members of this sub-family, the Rupicaprine, which is represented in : America by the so-called Rocky Mountain goat and in Bi ijl! Europe by the chamois. The goral might be called the | Asiatic chamois, for its habits closely resemble those © of its Kuropean relative. I had killed twenty-five goral in Yiin-nan on the first Asiatic expedition and, therefore, was not particularly keen, from the sporting standpoint, about shooting oth- ers. But we did need several specimens, since the north China goral represents a different species, Nemor- hedus caudatus, from the one we had obtained in Yiin- ti nan, which is N. griseus. Dae ; Moreover, Harry was exceedingly anxious to get sev- ati eral of the animals for he had not been very successful | with them. He-had shot one at Wu-shi-tu, while we i were hunting sheep, and after wounding two others at WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 235 Wu-tai-hai had begun to learn how hard they are to kill. The thousand-foot climb up the almost perpendicular cliff was one of the most difficult bits of going which we encountered anywhere in the mountains, and I was ready for a rest in the sun when we reached the sum- mit. Although my beaters were not successful in put- ting out a goral, we heard Harry shoot once away to the right; and half an hour later I saw him through my binoculars accompanied by one of his men who car- ried a goral on his shoulders. On the way Harry disturbed a goral which ran down the sheer wall opposite to us at full speed, bouncing from rock to rock as though made of India rubber. It was almost inconceivable that anything except a bird could move along the face of that cliff, and yet the goral ran apparently as easily as though it had been on level ground. I missed it beautifully and the animal disappeared into a cave among the rocks. Although I sent two bullets into the hole, hoping to drive out the beast, it would not move. ‘Two beaters made their way from above to within thirty feet of the hiding place and sent down a shower of dirt and stones, but still there was no sign of action. Then another native climbed up from below at the risk of his life, and just as he gained the ledge which led to the cave the goral leaped out. The Mongol yelled with fright, for the animal nearly shoved him off the rocks and dashed into the bottom of the ravine where it took refuge in another cave. I would not have taken that thousand-foot climb 236 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS ay again for all the gorals in China, but Harry started Hap | down at once. The animal again remained in its cave ya until a beater was opposite the entrance and then shot | out like an arrow almost into Harry’s face. He was so startled that he missed it twice. | | I decided to abandon goral hunting for that day. pe Na-mon-gin took me over the summit of the ridge with two beaters and we found roebuck at once. I returned het to camp with two bucks and a doe. In the lower valley | I met Harry carrying a shotgun and accompanied by a boy strung about with pheasants and chuckars. After iN losing the goral he had toiled up the mountain again | but had found only two roebuck, one of which he shot. Our second wapiti was killed on November seventh. It was a raw day with an icy wind blowing across the ridges where we lay for half an hour while the beaters bungled a drive for twelve roebuck which had gone into a scrub-filled ravine. ‘The animals eluded us by run- ning across a hilltop which should have been blocked by a native, and I got only one shot at a fox. The re- port of my rifle disturbed eight wapiti which the beat- | ers discovered as they crossed the uplands in the di- | rection of another patch of cover a mile away. It was a long, cold walk over the hills against the bit- ing wind, and after driving one ravine unsuccessfully Harry descended to the bottom of a wide valley, while HA I continued parallel with him on the summit of the Line ridge. Three roebuck suddenly jumped from a shal- HH low ravine in front of me, and one of them, a splendid buck, stopped behind a bush. It was too great a WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 237 temptation, so I fired; but the bullet went to pieces in the twigs and never reached its mark. Harry saw the deer go over the hill and ran around the base of a rocky shoulder just in time to intercept three wapiti which my shot had started down the ravine. He dropped be- hind a bowlder and let a cow and a calf pass within a few yards of him, for he saw the antlers of a bull rock- ing along just behind a tiny ridge. As the animal came into view he sent a bullet into his shoulder, and a sec- ond ball a few inches behind the first. The elk went down but got to his feet again, and Harry put him under for good with a third shot in the hip. Looking up he saw another bull, alone, emerging from a patch of cover on the summit of the opposite slope four hundred yards away. He fired point-blank, but the range was a bit too long and his bullet kicked up a cloud of snow under the animal’s belly. | I was entirely out of the race on the summit of the hill, for the nearest wapiti was fully eight hundred yards away. Harry’s bull was somewhat smaller than the first one we had killed, but had an even more beautiful coat. We were pretty well exhausted from the week’s strenuous climbing and spent Sunday resting and look- ing after the small mammal work which our Chinese taxidermists had been carrying on under my direc- ( tion. Monday morning we were on the hunting grounds shortly after sunrise. At the first drive a beautiful buck roe deer ran out of a ravine into the main valley 4 238 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS where I was stationed. Suddenly he caught sight of us where we sat under a rock and stopped with head thrown up and one foot raised. I shall never forget the beautiful picture which he made standing there against the background of snow with the sun glancing on his antlers. Before I could shoot he was off at top speed bounding over the bushes parallel to us. My first shot just creased his back, but the second caught him squarely in the shoulder, while he was in mid-air, turning him over in a complete somersault. A few moments later we saw the two beaters on the hill run toward each other excitedly and felt sure they had seen something besides roebuck. When _ they reached us they reported that seven wapiti had run out directly between them and over the ridge. | The climb to the top of the mountain was an ordeal. It was the highest ridge on that side of the valley and every time we reached what appeared to be the crest, auother and higher summit loomed above us. We fol- lowed the tracks of the animals into a series of ravines which ran down on the opposite side of the mountain and tried a drive. It was too large a territory for our four beaters, and the animals escaped unobserved up one of the valleys. Na-mon-gin and I sat on the hillside for an hour in the icy wind. We were both | shaking with cold and I doubt if I could have hit a wapiti if it had stopped fifty feet away. Harry saw a young elk go into a mass of birch scrub in the bottom of the valley, and when he descended to drive it out, his hunter discovered a huge bull walking WAPITI, ROEBUCK, AND GORAL 239 slowly up a ravine not two hundred yards from me but under cover of the hill and beyond my sight. A little before dark we started home by way of a deep ravine which extended out to the main valley. We were talking in a low tone and I was smoking a cigarette —my rifle slung over my shoulder. Suddenly Harry exclaimed, “Great Scott, Roy! There’s a ma-lu.” On the instant his rifle banged, and I looked up just in time to see a bull wapiti stop on an open slope of the ravine about ninety yards away. Before I had un- slung my rifle Harry fired again, but he could not see the notch in his rear sight and both bullets went high. Through the peep sight in my Mannlicher the animal was perfectly visible, and when I fired, the bull dropped like lead, rolling over and over down the hill. He at- tempted to get to his feet but was unable to stand, and I put him down for good with a second shot. It all happened so quickly that we could hardly realize that a day of disappointment had ended in success. On our way back to camp Harry and I decided that this would end our hunt, for we had three fine bulls, and it was evident that only a very few wapiti remained. The species is doomed to early extinction for, with the advent of the railroad, the last stand which the elk have made by means of their extraordinary adaptation to changed conditions will soon become easily accessible to foreign sportsmen. We at least could keep our con- sciences clear and not hasten the inevitable day by undue slaughter. In western China other species of wapiti are found in greater numbers, but there can be 240 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS only one end to the persecution to which they are sub- jected during the season when they are least able to protect themselves. It is too much to hope that China will make effective game laws before the most interesting and important forms of her wild life have disappeared, but we can do our best to preserve in museums for future generations records of the splendid animals of the present. Not only are they a part of Chinese history, but they belong to all the world, for they furnish some of the evidence from which it is possible to write the fascinating story of those dim, dark ages when man first came upon the earth. CHAPTER XVIII WILD PIGS—ANIMAL AND HUMAN Shansi Province is famous for wild boar among the sportsmen of China. In the central part there are low mountains and deep ravines thickly forested with a scrub growth of pine and oak. The acorns are a fa- vorite food of the pigs, and the pigs are a favorite food of the Chinese—and of foreigners, too, for that matter. No domestic pork that I have ever tasted can excel a young acorn-fed wild pig! Even a full-grown sow is delicious, but beware of an old boar; not only is he tough beyond description, but his flesh is so “strong”’ that it annoys me even to see it cooked. I tried to eat some boar meat, once upon a time—that is why I feel so deeply about it. It is useless to hunt wild pig until the leaves are off the trees, for your only hope is to find them feed- ing on the hillsides in the morning or early evening. Then they will often come into the open or the thin forests, and you can have a fair shot across a ravine or from the summit of a hill. If they are in the brush it is well-nigh impossible to see them at all. A wild boar is very clever at eluding his pursuers, and for his size can carry off more lead and requires more killing than any other animal of which I know. Therefore, you 241 242 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS may be sure of a decidedly interesting hunt. On the other hand, an unsuspecting pig is easy to stalk, for his eyesight is not good; his sense of smell is not much bet- ter; and he depends largely upon hearing to protect him from enemies. In Tientsin and Shanghai there are several sports- men who year after year go to try for record tusks— they are the real authorities on wild boar hunting. My own experience has been limited to perhaps a dozen pigs killed in Korea, Mongolia, Celebes, and various parts of China. Harry Caldwell and I returned from our bighorn sheep and wapiti hunt on November 19. He was anxious to go with me for wild boar, but business re- quired his presence in Foochow, and Everett Smith, who had been my companion on a trip to the Eastern Tombs the previous spring, volunteered to accompany me. We left on November 28 by the Peking-Han- kow Railroad for Ping-ting-cho, arriving the follow- ing afternoon at two o'clock. There we obtained donkeys for pack and riding animals. All the traffic in this part of Shansi is by mules or donkeys. As a result the inns are small, with none of the spacious. courtyards which we had found in the north of the prov- ince. They were not particularly dirty, but the open coal fires which burned in every kitchen sometimes drove us outside for a breath of untainted air. How it is possible for human beings to exist in rooms so filled with coal gas is beyond my knowledge. Of — course, death from gas poisoning is not unusual, but I Tp) >) WILD PIGS—ANIMAL AND HUMAN 243 suppose the natives have become somewhat immune to its effects. Our destination was a tiny village in the mountains about eight miles beyond Ho-shun, a city of consid- erable size in the very center of the province. Tai- yuan-fu, the capital, at the end of the railway, is a famous place for pigs; but they have been hunted so persistently in recent years that few remain within less than two or three days’ journey from the city. It was a three days’ trip from the railroad to Ho- shun, and there was little of interest to distinguish the road from any other in north China. It is always monotonous to travel with pack animals or carts, for they go so slowly that you can make only two or three miles an hour, at best. If there happens to be shoot- ing along the way, as there is in most parts of Shansi, it helps to pass the time. We picked up a few pheas- ants, some chuckars, and a dozen pigeons, but did not stop to do any real hunting until we entered a wooded valley and established ourselves in a fairly comfortable Chinese hut at the little village of Kao-chia-chuang. On the way in we met a party of Christian Brother mis- sionaries who had been hunting in the vicinity for five days. ‘They had seen ten or twelve pigs and had killed a splendid boar weighing about three hundred and fifty pounds as well as two roebuck. The mountains near the village had been so thor- oughly hunted that there was little chance of finding pigs, but nevertheless. we decided to stay for a day or two. I killed a two-year-old roebuck on the first after- 244 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS noon; and the next morning, while Smith and I were resting on a mountain trail, one of our men saw an enormous wild boar trot across an open ridge and dis- appear into a heavily forested ravine. I selected a post on a projecting shoulder, while one Chinese went with Smith to pick up the trail of the pig. There were so many avenues of escape open to the boar that I had to remain where it was possible to watch a large expanse of country. Smith had not yet reached the bottom of the ravine when the native who had remained with me suddenly began to gesticulate wildly and to point to a wooded slope directly in front of us. He hopped about like a man who has suddenly lost his mind and succeeded in keeping in front of me so that I could see nothing but his waving arms and writhing body. Finally seizmg him by the collar, I threw him to the ground so vio- lently that he realized his place was behind me. Then I saw the pig running along a narrow trail, silhouetted against the snow which lay thinly on the shaded side of the hill. He was easily three hundred and fifty yards away and I had little hope of hitting him, but I selected an open patch beyond a bit of cover and fired as he emerged. The boar squealed and plunged forward into the bushes. A moment later he reappeared, zig- zagging his way up the slope and only visible through the trees when he crossed a patch of snow. I emptied the magazine of my rifle in a futile bombardment, but the boar crossed the summit and disappeared, ee WILD PIGS—ANIMAL AND HUMAN 245 We picked up his bloody trail and for two hours _ followed it through a tangled mass of scrub and thorns. It seemed certain that we must find him at any mo- ment, for great red blotches stained the snow wherever he stopped to rest. At last the trail led us across an open ridge, and the snow and blood suddenly ceased. We could not follow his footprints in the thick grass and abandoned the chase just before dark. Two more days of unsuccessful hunting convinced us that the missionaries had driven the pigs to other cover. ‘There was a region twelve miles away to which they might have gone, and we shifted camp to a vil- lage named Tziloa a mile or more from the scrub-cov- ered hills which we wished to investigate. The natives of this part of the country were in no sense hunters. ‘They were farmers who, now that the crops were harvested, had plenty of leisure time and were glad to roam the hills with us. Although their eyesight was remarkable and they were able to see a pig twice as far as we could, they had no conception of stalking the game or of how to hunt it. When we be- gan to shoot, instead of watching the pigs, they were always so anxious to obtain the empty cartridge cases that a wild scramble ensued after every shot. They were like street boys fighting for a penny. It was a serious handicap for successful hunting, and they kept me in such a state of irritation that I never shot so badly in all my life. We found pigs at Tziloa immediately. The carts went by road to the village, while Smith and I, with two 246 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Chinese, crossed the mountains. On the summit of a ridge not far from the village we met eight native hunt- ers. Two of them had ancient muzzle-loading guns but the others only carried staves. Evidently their | method of hunting was to surround the pigs and drive Sa them close up to the men with firearms. i! We persuaded one of the Chinese, a boy of eighteen, HA with cross-eyes and a funny, dried-up little face, to | | accompany us, for our two guides wished to return | that night to Kao-chia-chuang. He led us down a spur 1) which projected northward from the main ridge, and Ay in ten minutes we discovered five pigs on the opposite side of a deep ravine. The sun lay warmly on the slope, and the animals were lazily rooting in the oak scrub. ‘They were a happy family—a boar, a sow, and three half-grown piglets. ae We slipped quietly among the trees until we were | directly opposite to them and not more than two hun- dred yards away. The boar and the sow had disap- peared behind a rocky corner, and the others were slowly following so that the opportunity for a shot would soon be lost. Telling Smith to take the one on the left, I covered another which stood half facing me. At the roar of my rifle the ravine was filled with wild — squeals, and the pig rolled down the hill bringing up : “é against a tree. The boar rushed from behind the rock, miei. and I fired quickly as he stood broadside on. He i | plunged out of sight, and the gorge was still! Smith had missed his pig and was very much dis- i gusted. The three Chinese threw themselves down the - es ea WILD PIGS—ANIMAL AND HUMAN 247 slope, slipping and rolling over logs and stones, and were up the opposite hill before we reached the bottom of the ravine. ‘They found the pig which I had killed and a blood-splashed trail leading around the hill where the boar had disappeared. My pig was a splendid male in the rich red-brown coat of adolescence. The bullet had struck him “amid- ships” and shattered the hip on the opposite side. From the blood on the trail we decided that I had shot the big boar through the center of the body about ten inches behind the forelegs. We had learned by experience how much killing a full-grown pig required, and had no illusions about finding him dead a few yards away, even though both sides of his path were blotched with red at every step. Therefore, while the Chinese followed the trail, Smith and I sprinted across the next ridge into a thickly forested ravine to head off the boar. We took stations several yards apart, and suddenly I heard Smith’s rifle bang six times in quick succes- sion. ‘The Chinese had disturbed the pig from a patch of cover and it had climbed the opposite hill slope in full view of Smith, who apparently had missed it every time. Missing a boar dodging about among the bushes ‘is not such a difficult thing to do, and although poor Smith was too disgusted even to talk about it, I had a good deal of sympathy for him. We had little hope of getting the animal when we climbed to the summit of the ridge and saw the tangle of brush into which it had disappeared, but neverthe- 248 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS less we followed the trail which was still showing blood. I was in front and was just letting myself down a snow- covered bowlder, when far below me I saw a huge sow and a young pig walking slowly through the trees. I turned quickly, lost my balance, and slipped feet first ae over the rock into a mass of thorns and scrub. A loco- | | motive could not have made more noise, and I extri- cated myself just in time to see the two pigs disappear | | into a grove of pines. I was bleeding from a dozen scratches, but I climbed to the summit of the ridge and : dashed forward hoping to cut them off if they crossed | . below me. They did not appear, and we tried to drive them out from the cover into which they had made their way; but we never saw them again. It was already be- ginning to grow dark and too late to pick up the trail of the wounded boar, so we had to call it a day and re- turn to the village. One of our men carried my shotgun and we killed half a dozen pheasants on the way back tocamp. The ~ birds had come into the open to feed, and small flocks — were scattered along the valley every few hundred ~ yards. We saw about one hundred and fifty in less than an hour, besides a few chuckars. I have never visited any part of China where pheas- ants were so plentiful as in this region. Had we been hunting birds we could have killed a hundred or more without the slightest difficulty during the time we were | ‘4 looking for pigs. We could not shoot, however, without — | the certainty of disturbing big game and, consequently, — we only killed pheasants when on the way back to camp. — WILD PIGS—ANIMAL AND HUMAN 249 During the day the birds kept well up toward the sum- mits of the ridges and only left the cover in the morning and evening. Our second hunt was very amusing, as well as success- ful. We met the same party of Chinese hunters early in the morning, and agreed to divide the meat of all the pigs we killed during the day if they would join forces with us. Among them was a tall, fine-looking young fellow, evidently the leader, who was a real hunter—the . only one we found in the entire region. He knew in- stinctively where the pigs were, what they would do, and how to get them. He led us without a halt along the summit of the mountain into a ravine and up a long slope to the crest of a knifelike ridge. Then he suddenly dropped in the _grass and pointed across a cafion to a bare hillside. T'wo pigs were there in plain sight—one a very large sow. They were fully three hundred yards away and on the edge of a bushy patch toward which they were feeding slowly. Smith left me to hurry to the bottom of the cafion where he could have a shot at close range if either one went down the hill, while I waited behind a stone. Before he was halfway down the slope the sow moved toward the patch of cover into which the smaller pig had already disappeared. It must be then, if I was to have a shot at all. I fired rather hurriedly and registered a clean miss. Both pigs, instead of staying in the cover where they would have been safe, dashed down the open slope toward the bottom of the cafion. At my first shot all eight of the Chinese had leaped for the empty rifle 250 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS shell and were rolling about like a pack of dogs after a bone. One of them struck my leg just as I fired the second time and the bullet went into the air; I delivered a broadside of my choicest Chinese oaths and the man drew off. I sent three shots after the fleeing sow, but she disappeared unhurt. One shell remained in my rifle, and I saw the other pig running like a scared rabbit in the very bottom of the cafion. It was so far away that I could barely see the anima] through my sights, but when I fired it turned a complete somersault and lay still; the bullet had caught it squarely in the head. Meanwhile, Smith was having a lively time with the. old sow. He had swung around a corner of rock just in time to meet the pig coming at full speed from the other side not six yards away. He tried to check himself, slipped, and sat down suddenly but managed to fire once, breaking the animal’s left foreleg. It disappeared into the brush with Smith after it. He began an intermittent bombardment which lasted half an hour. Bang, bang, bang—then silence. Bang, bang, bang—silence again. I wondered what it all meant and finally ran down the bottom of the valley until I saw Smith opposite to me just under the rim of the ravine. He was tearing madly through the brush not far behind the sow. As the animal appeared for an instant on the summit of a rise he dropped on one knee and fired twice. Then I saw him race over the hill, leap- ing the bushes like a roebuck. Once he rolled ten feet into a mass of thorn scrub, but he was up again in an ~ WILD PIGS—ANIMAL AND HUMAN 251 instant, hurdling the brush and fallen logs, his eye on the pig. It was screamingly funny and I was helpless with laughter. “Go it, Smith,” I yelled. “Run him down. Catch him in your hands.” He had no breath to waste in a reply, for just then he leaped a fallen log and I saw the sow charge him viciously. The animal had been lying under a tree, almost done, but still had life enough to damage Smith badly if it had reached him. As the man landed on his feet, he fired again at the pig which was almost on him. The bullet caught the brute in the shoulder at the base of the neck and rolled it over, but it struggled to its feet and ran uncertainly a few steps; then it dropped in a little gully. By the time I had begun to climb the hill Smith shouted that the pig might charge again, and I kept my rifle ready, but the animal was “all in.” I circled warily and, creeping up from behind, drove my hunting knife into its heart; even then it struggled to get at me before it rolled over dead. Smith was streaming blood from a score of scratches, and his clothes were in ribbons, but his face was radiant. “I'd have chased the blasted pig clear to Peking,” he said. “All my shells are gone, but I wasn’t going to let him get away. If I hadn’t kept that last cartridge he’d have caught me, surely.” It was fine enthusiasm and, if ever a man deserved his game, Smith deserved that sow. The animal had been shot in half a dozen places; two legs were broken, and at least three of the bullets had reached vital spots. at dl 252 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Still the brute kept on. Any one who thinks pigs are © easy to kill ought to try the ones in Shansi! The sow weighed well over three hundred pounds, and it required six men to carry the two pigs into camp. We got no more, although we saw two others, but still we felt that the day had not been ill spent. As long as I live I shall never forget Smith’s hurdle race after that old sow. Although I killed two roebuck, the next day I re- turned to camp with rage in my heart. Smith and I had separated late in the afternoon, and I was hunting with an old Chinese when we discovered three pigs—a huge boar, a sow, and a shote—crossing an open hill. Crawl- ing on my face, I reached a rock not seventy yards from the animals. At the first shot the boar pitched over the bluff into a tangle of thorns, squealing wildly. My second bullet broke the shoulder of the sow, and I had a mad chase through a patch of scrub, but finally lost her. When I returned to get the big boar I discovered my Chinese squatted on his haunches in the ravine. He blandly informed me that the pig could not be found. I spent the half hour of remaining daylight burrowing in the thorn scrub without success. I learned later that the native had concealed the dead pig under a mass of stones and that during the night he and his confréres had carried it away. Moreover, after we left, they also got the sow which I had wounded. Although at the time I did not suspect the man’s perfidy, nevertheless it was apparent that he had not kept his eyes on the boar as I i WILD PIGS—ANIMAL AND HUMAN 253 had told him to do; otherwise the pig could not possibly have escaped. We had one more day of hunting because Smith had obtained two weeks’ leave. The next morning dawned dark and cloudy with spurts of hail—just the sort of weather in which animals prefer to stay comfortably snuggled under a bush in the thickest cover. Conse- quently we saw nothing all day except one roebuck, which I killed. It was running at full speed when I fired, and it disappeared over the crest of a hill without a sign of injury. Smith was waiting on the other side, and I wondered why he did not shoot, until we reached the summit and discovered the deer lying dead in the grass. Smith had seen the buck plunge over the ridge, and just as he was about to fire, it collapsed. We found that my bullet had completely smashed the heart, yet the animal had run more than one hundred yards. As it fell, one of its antlers had been knocked off and the other was so loose that it dropped in my hand when I lifted the head. This was on December 11. The other bucks which I had killed still wore their ant- lers, but probably they would all have been shed before Christmas. The growth takes place during the winter, and the velvet is all off the new antlers by the following May. On the way back to camp we saw a huge boar stand-. ing on an open hillside. Smith and I fired hurriedly and both missed a perfectly easy shot. With one of the Chinese I circled the ridge, while Smith took up the animal’s trail. We arrived on the edge of a deep ravine a : Bi 1/3 254 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS just as the boar appeared in the very bottom. I fired as it rushed through the bushes, and the pig squealed but never hesitated. The second shot struck behind it, but at the third it squealed again and dived into a patch of cover. When we reached the spot we found a great pool of blood and bits of entrails—but no pig. A broad red patch led through the snow, and we followed, ex- pecting at every step to find the animal dead. Instead, the track carried us down the hill, up the bottom of a ravine, and onto a hill bare of snow but thickly covered with oak scrub. While Smith and I circled ahead to intercept the pig, the Chinese followed the trail. It was almost dark when we went back to the men, who announced that the blood had ceased and that they had lost the track. It seemed incredible; but they had so trampled the trail where it left the snow that we could not find it again in the gloom. Then Smith and I suspected what we eventually found to be true, viz., that the men had discovered the dead pig and had purposely led us astray. We had no proof, however, and they denied the charge so violently that we began to think our suspicions were unfounded. We had to leave at daylight next morning in order to reach Peking before Smith’s leave expired. Two days after we left, one of my friends arrived at Kao-chia- chuang, where we had first hunted, and reported that the Chinese had brought in all four of the pigs which we had wounded. One of them, probably the boar we lost on the last night, was an enormous animal which the | 4 : ’ WILD PIGS—ANIMAL AND HUMAN 255 natives said weighed more than five hundred pounds. Of course, this could not have been true, but it probably did reach nearly four hundred pounds. What Smith and I said when we learned that the scoundrels had cheated us would not look well in print. However, it taught us several things about boar hunting which will prove of value in the future. The Chinese can sell wild pig meat for a very high price since it is considered to be a great delicacy. Therefore, if I wound a pig in the future I shall, myself, follow its trail to the bitter end. Moreover, I learned that, to knock over a wild boar and keep him down for good, one needs a heavy rifle. The bullet of my 6.5 mm. Mannlicher, which has proved to be a wonderful killer for anything up to and including sheep, has not weight enough be- hind it to stop a pig in its tracks. These animals have such wonderful vitality that, even though shot in a vital spot, they can travel an unbelievable distance. Next time I shall carry a rifle especially designed for pigs and thieving Chinese! WA aye: ap May | CHAPTER XIX THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS The sunshine of an early spring day was flooding the flower-filled courtyards of Duke Tsai Tse’s palace in Peking when Dr. G. D. Wilder, Everett Smith, and I alighted from our car at the huge brass-bound gate. We came by motor instead of rickshaw, for we were on an official visit which had been arranged by the Ameri- can Minister. We would have suffered much loss of “face” had we come in any lesser vehicle than an auto- mobile, for we were to be received by a “Royal High- ness,’ an Imperial Duke and a man in whose veins flowed the bluest of Manchu blood. Although living in retirement, Duke Tsai Tse is still a powerful and a re- spected man. We were ushered through court after court into a large reception hall furnished in semi-foreign style but in excellent taste. A few moments later the duke en- tered, dressed in a simple gown of dark blue silk. Had I met him casually on the street I should have known he was a “personality.” His high-bred features were those of a maker of history, of a man who has faced the ruin of his own ambitions; who has seen his emperor deposed and his dynasty shattered; but who has lost not one whit of his poise or self-esteem. He carried himself 256 THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 257 with a quiet dignity, and there was a royal courtesy in his greeting which inspired profound respect. Had he been marked for death in the revolution I am sure that he would have received his executioners in the same calm way that he met us in the reception hall. He listened with a courteous interest while we explained the object of our visit. We had come, we told him, to ask permis- sion to collect natural history specimens in the great hunting park at the Tung Ling, Eastern Tombs. Here, and at the Hsi Ling, or Western Tombs, the Manchu emperors and their royal consorts sleep in splendid mausoleums among the fragrant pines. The emperors are buried at the lower end of a vast, walled park, more than one hundred miles in length. True to their reverence for the dead, the Chinese con- querors have never touched these sacred spots, and doubtless will never do so. They belong unquestion- ably to the Manchus, even if their dynasty has been overthrown by force of arms. According to custom, ’ some member of the royal court is always in residence at the Kastern Tombs. This fact Tsai Tse gravely ex- plained, and said that he would commend us in a letter to Duke Chou, who would be glad to grant us the privi- leges we asked. Then, by touching his teacup to his lips, he indicated that our interview was ended. With the same courtesy he would have shown to a visiting diplomat he ushered us through the courtyards, while at each doorway we begged him to return. Such is the custom in China. That same afternoon a messenger from the duke arrived at my house in Wu Liang Tajen 258 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Hutung bearing a letter beautifully written in Chinese characters. Everett Smith and I left next morning for the East- ern Tombs. We went by train to Tung-cho, twelve miles away, where a mafu was waiting with our ponies and a cart for baggage. The way to the Tung Ling © ae is a delight, for along it north China country life passes Wha before one in panoramic completeness. For centuries this road has been an imperial highway. I could imag- ha ine the gorgeous processions that had passed over it and : the pomp and ceremony of the visits of the hving em- perors to the resting places of the dead. " Most vivid of all was the picture in my mind of the | last great funeral only nine years ago. I could seethe imperial yellow bier slowly, solemnly, borne over the gray Peking hills. In it lay the dead body of the Dow- i ager Empress, Tz’u-hsi—most dreaded yet most beloved a —the greatest empress of the last century, the woman : who tasted of life and power through the sweetest joys to their bitter core. We spent the first night at an inn on the outskirts of a tiny village. It was a clean inn, too—very different | } from those in south China. The great courtyard was “H crowded with arriving carts. In the kitchen dozens of Pht tired mafus were noisily -gulping huge bowls of maca- ‘Wali roni, and others, stretched upon the kang, had already ny become mere, shapeless bundles of dirty rags. After Mt dinner Smith and I wandered outside the court. An ah open-air theater was in full operation a few yards from feet the inn, and all the village had gathered in the street. THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 259 But we were of more interest to the audience than the drama itself, and in an instant a score of men and women had surrounded us. They were all good-natured but frankly curious. Finally an old man joined the crowd. “Why,” said he, “there are two foreigners!” Immedi- ately the hum of voices ceased, for Age was speaking. “They’ve got foreign clothes,” he exclaimed; “and what funny hats! It is true that foreign hats are much big- ger than Chinese caps, and they cost a lot more, too! See that gun the tall one is carrying! He could shoot those pigeons over there as easily as not—all of them with one shot—probably he will in a minute.” The old man continued the lecture until we strolled back to the inn. Undoubtedly he is still discussing us, for there is little to talk about in a Chinese village, ex- cept crops and weather and local gossip. We reached the Eastern Tombs in the late afternoon of the same day. Emerging from a rocky gateway on the summit of a hill, we had the whole panorama of the Tung Ling spread out before us. It was like a vast green sea where wave after wave of splendid forests rolled away to the blue haze of distant mountains. The islands in this forest-ocean were the yellow-roofed tombs, which gave back the sun in a thousand points of golden light. After the monotonous brown of the bare north China hills, the vivid green of the trees was as refreshing as finding an unknown oasis in a sandy des- ert. To the right was the picturesque village of Ma- _ lin-yii, the residence of Duke Chou. From the wide veranda of the charming temple which 260 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS we were invited to occupy we could look across the brown village to the splendid park and the glistening yellow roofs of the imperial tombs. We found next day that it is a veritable paradise, a spot of exquisite beauty where profound artistic sentiment has been magnifi- cently expressed. Broad, paved avenues, bordered by colossal animals sculptured in snow-white marble, lead through the trees to imposing gates of red and gold. There is, too, a delightful appreciation of climax. As one walks up a spacious avenue, passing through gate after gate, each more magnificent than the last, one is | Wh) being prepared by this cumulative splendor for the tomb . pies itself. One feels everywhere the dignity of space. There is no smallness, no crowding. One feels the great- - ness of the people that has done these things: a race that looks at life and death with a vision as broad as the skies themselves. At the Tung Ling Nature has worked hand in hand with man to produce a harmonious whole. Most of the trees about the tombs have been planted, but the work has been cleverly done. There is nothing glaringly artificial, and you feel as though you were in a well- groomed forest where every tree has grown just where, in Nature’s scheme of things, it ought to be. , Although the tombs are alike in general plan, they are, at the same time, as individual as were the emperors Vit themselves. Each is a subtle expression of the character na? of the one who sleeps beneath the yellow roof. The | tomb of Ch’ien-Lung, the artist emperor, lies not far away from that of the Empress Dowager. Stately, ae ee eee ee ee ee eS THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 261 beautiful in its simplicity, it is an indication of his life and deeds. In striking contrast is the palace built by the Empress for her eternal dwelling. A woman of iron will, holding her place by force and intrigue, a lover of lavish display—she has expressed it all in her gor- geous tomb. The extravagance of its decoration and the wealth of gold and silver seem to declare to all the world her desire to be known even in death as the great- est of the great. It is said that her tomb cost ten million dollars, and I can well believe it. But a hundred years from now, when Ch’ien-Lung’s mausoleum, like the painting of an old master, has grown even more beauti- ful by the touch of age, that of the Empress will be worn and tarnished. Charmed with the calm, the peace, the exquisite beauty of the spot, we spent a delightful day wandering among the red and gold pavilions. But fascinating as were the tombs, we were really concerned with the “hin- terland,” the hunting park itself. Sixty miles to the north, but still within the walls, are towering mountains and glorious forests; these were what we had come to — see. All day, behind three tiny donkeys, we followed a tortuous, foaming stream in the bottom of a splendid valley, ever going upward. At night we slept in the open, and next day crossed the mountain into a forest of oak and pine sprinkled with silver birches. Hun- dreds of wood-cutters passed us on the trail, each car- rying a single log upon his back. Before we reached the village of Shing Lung-shan we came into an area 262 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS of desolation. Thousands of splendid trees were lying in a chaos of charred and blackened trunks. It was the wantonness of it all that depressed and horrified me. The reason was perfectly apparent. On every bit of open ground Manchu farmers were at work with plow and hoe. The land was being cleared for cultivation, regardless of all else. North China has very little tim- ber—so little, in fact, that one longs passionately to get away from the bare hills. Yet in this forest-paradise the trees were being sacrificed relentlessly simply to ob- tain a few more acres on which the farmer could grow his crops. If it had to be done—and Heaven knows it need not have been—the trees might have been utilized for timber. Many have been cut, of course, but thou- sands upon thousands have been burned simply to clear the hillside. At Shing Lung-shan we met our hunters and con- tinued up the valley for three hours. With every mile there were fewer open spaces; we had come to a region of vast mountains, gloomy valleys, and heavy forests. The scenery was superb! It thrilled me as did the moun- tains of Yiin-nan and the gorges of the Yangtze. Yet all this grandeur is less than one hundred miles from Peking! On a little ridge between two foaming streams we made our camp in the forest. From the door of the tent we could look over the tops of the trees into the blue distance of the valley; behind us was a wall of for- ests broken only by the winding corridor of the moun- tain torrent. THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 263 We had come to the Tung Ling especially to obtain specimens of the sika deer (Cervus hortulorum) and the Reeves’s pheasant (Syrmaticus reevesi). The for- mer, a noble animal about the size of our Virginia deer in America, has become exceedingly rare in north China. The latter, one of the most beautiful of living birds, is found now in only two localities—near Ichang on the Yangtze River, and at the Tung Ling. When the for- ests of the Eastern Tombs have been cleared this species will be extinct in all north China. Early in the morning we left with six hunters. Our way led up the bottom of the valley toward a mountain ridge north of camp. As we walked along the trail, suddenly one of the hunters caught me by the arm and whispered, “Sang-chi”’ (wild chicken). There was a whir of wings, a flash of gold—and I registered a clean miss! The bird alighted on the mountain side, and in the bliss of ignorance Smith and I dashed after it. Ten minutes later we were exhausted from the climb and the pheasant had disappeared. We learned soon that it is useless to chase a Reeves’s pheasant when it has once been flushed, for it will invariably make for a mountain side, run rapidly to the top, and, once over the summit, fly to another ridge. On the way home I got my first pheasant, and an hour later put up half a dozen. I should have had two more, but instead of shooting I only stared, fascinated _ by the beauty of the thing I saw. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was drawing oblique paths of shimmering golden light among the trees. In a clearing 264 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS near the summit of a wooded shoulder I saw six pheas- ants feeding and I realized that, by skirting the base of the ridge, I could slip up from behind and force them to fly across the open valley. The stalk progressed ac- cording to schedule. When I crossed the ridge there was a whir of wings and six birds shot into the air not thirty feet away. The sun, glancing on their yellow backs and streaming plumes, transformed them into golden balls, each one with a comet-trail of living fire. The picture was so indescribably beautiful that I watched them sail across the valley with the gun idle in my hands. Not for worlds would I have turned one of those glorious birds into a crumpled mass of flesh and feathers. For centuries the barred tail plumes, which sometimes are six feet long, have been worn by Chinese actors, and the bird is famous in their literature. It will be a real tragedy when this species has passed out of the fauna of north China, as it will do inevitably if the wanton destruction of the T’wng Ling forests is con- tinued unchecked. | The next afternoon four sika deer gave me a hard chase up and down three mountain ridges. Finally, we located the animals in a deep valley, and I had an oppor- tunity to examine them through my glasses. Much to my disgust I saw that the velvet was not yet off the antlers and that their winter coats were only partly shed. They were valueless as specimens and forthwith I aban- doned the hunt. Before leaving Peking I had visited the zodlogical garden to make sure that the captive THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 265 sika had assumed their summer dress and antlers. But at the Tung Ling, spring had not yet arrived, and the ~ animals were late in losing their winter hair. In summer the sika is the most beautiful of all deer. Its bright red body, spotted with white, is, when seen among the green leaves of the forest, one of the loveliest things in nature. We wished to obtain a group of these splendid animals for the new Hall of Asiatic Life in the American Museum of Natural History, but the specimens had to be in perfect summer dress. My hunter was disgusted beyond expression when I refused to shoot the deer. The antlers of the sika when in the velvet are of greater value to the natives than those of any other species. A good pair of horns in full velvet sometimes sells for as much as $450. The grow- ing antlers are called shueh-chiao (blood horns) by the Chinese, who consider them of the highest efficacy as a remedy for certain diseases. Therefore, the animals are persecuted relentlessly and very few remain even in the Tung Ling. The antlers of the wapiti are also of great value to the native druggists, but strangely enough they care little for those of the moose and the roebuck. Hundreds of thousand of deerhorns are sent from the interior prov- inces of China to be sold in the large cities, and the com- plete extermination of certain species is only a matter of a few decades. Moreover, the female elk, just before the calving season, receive unmerciful persecution, for it is believed that the unborn fawns have great medicinal properties. 266 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS Since the roebuck at the Tung Ling were in the same condition as the sika, they were useless for our purposes. The goral, however, which live high up on the rocky peaks, had not begun to shed their hair, and they gave us good shooting. One beautiful morning Smith killed a splendid ram just above our camp. We had often looked at a ragged, granite outcrop, sparsely covered with spruce and pine trees, which towered a thousand feet above us. We were sure there must be goral some- where on the ridge, and the hunters told us that they had sometimes killed them there. It was a stiff climb, and we were glad to rest when we reached the summit. The old hunter placed Smith opposite an almost per- pendicular face of rock and stationed me beyond him on the other side. Three beaters had climbed the mountain a mile below us and were driving up the ridge. _ For half an hour I lay stretched out in the sun lux- uriating in the warmth and breathing in the fragrant odor of the pines. While I was lazily watching a Chi- nese green woodpecker searching for grubs in a tree near by, there came the faintest sound of a loosened pebble on the cliff above my head. Instantly I was alert and tense. A second later Smith’s rifle banged once. Then all was still. ; In a few moments he shouted to me that he had fired at a big goral, but that it had disappeared behind the ridge and he was afraid it had not been hit. The old hunter, however, had seen the animal scramble into a tiny grove of pine trees. As it had not emerged, I was sure the goral was wounded, and when the men climbed THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 267 up the cliff they found it dead, bored neatly through the center of the chest. Gorals, sika, and roebuck are by no means the only big game animals in the Twng Ling. Bears and leop- ards are not uncommon, and occasionally a tiger is killed by the natives. Among other species is a huge flying squirrel, nearly three feet long, badgers, and chipmunks, a beautiful squirrel with tufted ears which is almost black in summer and now is very rare, and dozens of small animals. But perhaps most interesting of all the creatures of these noble forests are the only wild mon- keys to be found in northeastern China. The birds are remarkable in variety and scien Besides the Reeves’s pheasant, of which I have spoken, there are two other species of this most beautiful family. One, the common ring-necked pheasant, is very abun- dant; the other is the rare Pucrasia, a gray bird with a dark-red breast, and a yellow striped head surmounted by a conspicuous crest. It is purely a mountain form requiring a mixed forest of pine and oak and, although more widely distributed than the Reeves’s pheasant, it occurs in comparatively few localities of north China. One morning as Smith and I were coming back from hunting we saw our three boys perched upon a ledge above the stream peering into the water. They called to us, “Would you like some fish?’ “Of course,” we answered, “but how can you get them?” In a second they had slipped from the rock and were stripping off their clothes. Then one went to the shal- lows at the lower end of the pool and began to beat the 268 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS surface with a leafy branch, while the other two crouched on the bowlders in midstream. Suddenly, one of the boys plunged his head and arms into the water and emerged with a beautiful speckled trout clutched tightly in both hands. He had seen the fish swim beneath the rock where it was cornered and had caught it before it could escape. For an hour the two boys sat like kingfishers, abso- lutely motionless except when they dived into the water. Of course, they often missed; but when we were ready to go home they had eight beautiful trout, several of them weighing as much as two pounds. The stream was full of fish, and we would have given worlds for a rod and flies. Lii baked a loaf of corn bread in his curious little oven made from a Standard Oil tin, and we found a jar of honey in our stores. Brook trout fried in deep bacon fat, regular “southern style’ corn bread and honey, apple pie, coffee, and er ead “hardships of camping in the Orient!” When we had been in camp a week we awoke one morning to find a heavy cloud of smoke drifting up the valley. Evidently a tremendous fire was raging, and Smith and I set out at once on a tour of investigation. A mile down the valley we saw the whole mountain side ablaze. It was a beautiful sight, I admit, but the de- struction of that magnificent forest appalled us. For- tunately, the wind was blowing strongly from the east, and there was no danger that the fire might sweep north- ward in the direction of ourcamp. As we emerged into THE GREAT PARK OF THE EASTERN TOMBS 269 a tiny clearing, occupied by a single log hut, we saw two Chinese sitting on their heels, placidly watching the roaring furnace across the valley. With a good deal of excitement we asked them how the fire possibly could have originated. “Oh,” said one, “‘we started it ourselves.” In the name of the five gods why did you do it?” Smith asked. “Well, you see,” returned the Chinese, “there was quite a lot of brush here in our clearing and we had to get rid of it. To-day the wind was right, so we set it on fire.” “But don’t you see that you have burned up that whole mountain’s side, destroyed thousands of trees, and absolutely ruined this end of the valley?” “Oh, yes, but never mind; it can’t be helped,” the native answered. Then I exploded. I frankly confess that I cursed that Chinese and all his ancestors; which is the only proper way to curse in China. I assured him that he was an “old rabbit” and that his father and his grandfather and his great-grandfather were rabbits. To tell a man that he is even remotely connected with a rabbit is decidedly uncomplimentary in China. But when it was all said I had accomplished nothing. The man looked at me in blank amazement as though I had suddenly lost my mind. He had not the faintest idea that burning up that beautiful forest was reprehen- sible in the slightest degree. To him and all his kind, the only thing worth while was to clear that bit of land in the valley. If every tree on the mountain was de- stroyed in the process, what difference did it make? It would be done eventually, anyway. Land, whether it 270 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS be on a hill or in a valley, was made to grow crops and to be cultivated by Chinese farmers. The wanton destruction which is being wrought at the Tung Ling makes me sick at heart. Here is one of the most beautiful spots in all China, within less than one hundred miles of Peking, which is being ruined ut- terly as fast as ax and fire can do the work. One can travel the length and breadth of the whole Republic and . not find elsewhere so much glorious scenery in so small a space. Moreover, it is the last sanctuary of much of north China’s wild life. When the forests of the Tung Ling are gone, half a dozen species of birds and mam- mals will become extinct. How-much of the original flora of north China exists to-day only in these forests I would not dare say, for I am not a botanist, but it can be hardly less than the fauna of which I know. _ If China could but realize before it is too late how priceless a treasure is being hewed and burned to noth- ingness and take the first step in conservation by making — a National Park of the Eastern Tombs! Politically there are difficulties, it is true. The Tung Ling, and all the surroundings, as I have said, belong unquestionably to the Manchus, and they can do as they wish with their own. But it is largely a question of money, and were the Republic to pay the price for the forests and mountains beyond the Tombs it would not be difficult to do the rest. No country on earth ever had a more splendid opportunity to create for the genera- tions of the present and the future a living memorial to its glorious past. THE END | : ; —_— =e -- eee. INDEX Aéroplanes, 182 Altai Mountains, 182 American Museum of Natu- ral History, Asiatic Ex- plorations of, vii; trustees of, viii, ix. Anderson, Dr. J. G., Mining Ad- viser to Chinese Republic, ix, 39 Anderson, Meyer and Co., assist- ance rendered to expedition by, ix, 82, 138, 173 Andrews, Yvette B., extract from “Journal” of, 46, 47 Antelope, description of hunt for, 15, 107; speed of, 23, 44, 97, 106, 118 Anthropoides virgo, 11, 42, 55, 88, 91, 93 Argali, 174, 186, 197, 201, 210, 212 Argul, desert fuel, 11, 24, 34 Asia, viii Asia Magazine, ix Asian plateau, viii Asiatic mammals, viii Asiatic zodlogical explorations, vii Asses, wild (Equus hemionus), 88 Atunzi, 169 Avocets, 42 271 Baikal Lake, 25 Barker, Major Austin, 213, 215, 217 Beach, Rex, quoted, 186 Bear, 67 Bennett, C. R., ix Bernheimer, Mr. and Mrs. Charles L., viii Bighorn sheep (Argali), 87, 174, 186 Boar, 67, 171 Bogdo-ol (God’s Mountain), 62, 67, 88, 99, 142, 151 Bolsheviki, 25, 32 Bolshevism, xii Buriats, xiii Burma, vii, 2 Bustard, 23, 61, 95 Caldwell, Rev. Harry R., 186, 191, 195, 203, 212, 216, 223, 232, 242 Canadian Pacific Ocean Service, transportation to America of collections by, x Capreolus bedfordi, 232 Caravans, camel, 13, 27, 62, 66, 91 Casarca casarca, 94 Castle, Rev. H., x Cathay, 1, 64 Cervus hortulorum, 268 272 INDEX Cheetah, 130 Che-kiang, Province of, x, 38 Chen, Chinese taxidermist, 39, 164 Chinese, xi, 8, 63, 75, 79 Chinese Turkestan, 182 Chou, Duke, 257 Citellus mongolicus umbratus, 42 Coltman, Charles L., Mr. and Mrs., ix, 2, 14, 25, 31, 47, 60, 150, 185 Cranes, 61; demoiselle, 11, 42, 55, 88, 91, 93 Cricetulus, 131 ~« Cunningham, Hon. E. S., Amer- ican Consul General, x Cygnopsis cygnoides, 94 Czechs, 26, 32 Dane, Sir Richard, 185 Da Wat Mountain, camped at foot of, 144 Delco Electric lighting plant, 39, 60 De Tarascon, Tartarin, 47 Dogs, 9, 76 Dorchy, Tserin, 144, 146, 149, 151, 153, 155, 161, 163, 165, 170, 172 Ducks, mallard, 11, 42, 95; ducks, shoveler, 42, 95 Eagles, 11 Elk, 67, 238 Equus hemionus, 88 Equus prejevalski, 87 Eulabeia indica, 95 Fabalis anser, 95 Fauna, Mongolian, vii Faxon, H. C., ix Feng-chen, 187, 181 Fuel, 11 Gazella gutturosa, 127; Gazella prejevalski, 127; Gazella sub- gutturosa, 127 Gazelles, 47, 48, 127 Genghis Khan, xi, 3, 71, 84 Gillis, [..V., iz 7 Gobi Desert, 1, 15, 27, 43, 62, 77, 128, 175, 181 | God’s Mountain (Bogdo-ol), 62, 67, 151 Goose, bar-headed, 95; bean, 95 Gophers (Citellus mongolicus umbratus), 42, 99 Goral, 194, 231, 234, 266 Great Wall of China, 2, 4, 8 Grouse, sand, 23 Guptil, A. M.,. ix, .25;- 26,528, 29, 31, 33, 37, 178 Hami, 182 Hamster, desert (Cricetulus), 131 Hares, 61 Harper’s Magazine, ix Hei-ma-hou, 3, 4, 5, 7, 11, 33, 39 Holcomb, Captain Thomas, 220 Honan, 38 Horses, wild (Equus prejeval- ski), 87 Ho-shun, 243 Hsi Ling, 257 Hsu Shu-tseng, General, xiii, 141 INDEX Hupeh, 38 Hutchins, C. T., Naval Attaché, American Legation, ix, 213 Hutukhtu, the Living Buddha, au, xin, 3, 60, 67, 68,71 Ibex, 87 Irkutsk, 25, 29, 32 Jackson, G. M., General Pas- senger Agent, Canadian Pacific Ocean Service, appreciation for assistance in transporta- tion of collections by, x Jardine, Matheson and Co., of Shanghai, 44 Kalgan, 2, 3, 4, 5, 8, 13, 15, 28, 29, 33, 35, 36, 39, 44, 99, 127, 142, 176, 182, 183 Kang, Chinese taxidermist, 39 Kang Hsi, Emperor, xiii Kao-chia-chuang, 243, 246 Kendrick, J., ix Khans, 63 Kiakhta, xiv, 179, 183 Kobdo, 182 Korostovetz, M., xii Kublai Khan, xi, 1, 7, 71, 160 Kwei-hua-cheng, 183, 193, 203 Lake Baikal, 25 Lama church, 71 Lama City, 76, 79 Lamaism, xi, 71 Lamas, 14, 24, 62; monastery of, 14 Lapwing (Vanellus vanellus), . Lapwings, 11 273 Larsen, F. A., ix, 9, 81, 118, 141, 176 “Little Hsu,” xiii Loo-choo Islands, 31 Lucander, Mr. and Mrs., 3, 5, 18, 69, 79 Lucas, Dr. F. A., acknowledg- ment to, viii Lii, cook for expedition, 39, 85, 117 Lung Chi’en, Emperor, tomb of, 260 MacCallie, Mr. and Mrs. E. L., x, 39, 43, 46, 48, 50, 53, 54, 57, 61, 75, 103, 164, 173 Magyars, 25, 32 Mai-ma-cheng, 62, 141, 173 Mallards, 192 Ma-lin-yu, residence of Duke Chou, 259 Ma-lu, 223, 225 Mamen, Mr. and Mrs. Oscar, x, 3, 25, 28, 61, 69, 103, 173 Mammals, Asiatic, viii Manchu, xi; dynasty of, xiv Manchus, 8 Mannlicher, 173, 239 Marmota robusta, 101 Marmot, 25, 52, 61, 88, 99, 100; Mongols’ method of captur- ing, 103, 174, 178 Mauser, 16 Meadow mice (Microtus), 93 Memorial addressed to Presi- dent of Chinese Republic, xiii Microtus, 93, 100, 131 Ministry of Foreign Affairs, ix Mongolia, fauna of, vii; religion of, 71 QT4 Mongolian Trading Company, | 25 Mongols, 8, 22, 41, 43; dislike for the body of the dead, 74; dress of, 21, 64, 65; food of, 78; manner of riding of, 21; manner of catching trout by, 164; morals of, 78; Southern, 10 Motion picture photography, 47, 50, 136 Motor cars, 2, 3, 43, 50, 58, 62, 66, 84, 134, 174, 182; Ford, 28; hunting from, 109; troubles with, 13, 27, 150 Musk deer, 169, 170 Mustela, 110 Naha, 31 Na-mon-gin, Mongol hunter, 195, 196, 205, 210, 213, 232, 236 Nankou Pass, 2 Natural History, ix Nemorhedus caudatus, 234 Nemorhedus griseus, 234 Olufsen, E. V., ix, 82, 138, 142 Omsk, 32 Orlow, A., Russian Diplomatic Agent, x, 88 Osborn, Henry Fairfield, viii, 18 Outer Mongolia, xii, 41 Ovis comosa, 186 Ovis jubata, 186 Owen, 39, 50 Panj-kiang, telegraph station at, 14, 22, 31, 44, 54, 128 INDEX Pan-yang wild sheep, 176, 180, 194, 201, 214 Peck, Willys, ix Peking, 1, 26, 29, 37, 173, 178, 183 Peking-Hankow Railroad, 242 _ Peking Press, quoted from, xiii- XV Peking-Suiyuan Railway, 44; motor service of, 180 Perry, Commodore, 31 Pheasant, Reeves’s (Syme reevesi), 263 Photography, motion ics 47, 50, 136 Ping-ting-cho, 242 Plover, 11, 45, 95 Pluvialis lanes fulous, 45. Polecat (Mustela), 110 Polo, Marco, 12 Prayer wheels, 73, 80 President, Chinese Republic, Memorial addressed to, xiii Price, Ernest .B., ix, 25, 384; Prisons, description of, 80 Pucrasia, 267 Rat, kangaroo (Alactaga mon- golica?), 132 Ravens, 11 Red Army, xiv Redheads, 95 Reinsch, Paul S., ix Rifles used on expedition; Mann- licher, 173, 234; Savage, 16 Rockefeller Foundation, 100 Roebuck, 67, 154, 163, 194, 231, 243 Rupicaprine, 234 Russia, xii, xiv es ee i a a wy - INDEX Russian Consulate, 63 Russians, xii, 13, 67 Russo-Chinese, xii Sain Noin Khan, 87, 88, 97 Savage rifle, 16 Serow, 38, 234 Shanghai, 183 Shansi Mountains, 5 Shantung, 38 Sheep, bighorn, 205 Sheldrake (Casarca 42, O4 Shensi, 182 Sherwood, George H., assistance rendered to expedition by, viii Shing Lung-shan, 261 Shuri, Palace, 32 Sian-fu, 182 Siberian frontier, 179 Sika deer (Cervus hortulorum), 263 Skylarks, 93 Smith, E. G., ix, 242, 244, 246, 250, 253, 256 Stefansson, 87 Swan geese (Cygnopsis noides), 94 Syrmaticus reevesi, 263 casarca), tl Tabool, 9, 10 Tai Hai, 191 Tai yuan-fu, 243 Takin, 234 Tanu Ulianghai, xiv Tao Kwang, Emperor, xiii Teal, 11, 42 Telegraph poles, method of pro- tection of, 11 275 Tenney, Dr. C. D., ix Tent, American wall, 90; Mon- gol, 85, 90 Terelche region, 172 Terelche River, 143, 147 Terelche Valley, 157 Tibet, vii, 106 Tientsin, 178, 183 Tola River, 25, 28, 62, 68, 70, 88, 91, 99, 158, 161, 164 Tola Valley, 67 Tombs, 257 Trans-Pacific Magazine, ix Trans-Siberian Railroad, 183 Trout, manner of catching by Mongols, 164 Tsai Tse, Duke, visit to palace of, 256 Tung-cho, 258 Tung-Ling, 257; pheasants and deer found at, 263 Turin, 29, 31, 61, 104, 176, 180; lamasery at, 23 Tziloa, pigs found at, 245 Tz’u-hsi, Dowager Empress, funeral of, 258 Ude, telegraph station, 22, 31, 55 Uliassutai, 178, 182 Urga, important fur market, 173, 178, 182 Urumchi, 182 Verkin Udinsk, 183 Vole, meadow (Microtus), 100, 131 Wai Chiao Pu, (Ministry of Foreign Affairs), ix 276 INDEX Wapiti, 164, 168, 172, 228, 231 | Wu Liang Tajen Hutung, 38, Warner, Langdon, 31, 32 257 Weatherall, M. E., ix Wu-shi-tu, 234 Weinz, Father, Belgian priest, | Wu-tai-hai, 219, 221, 235 35 Wells, description of, 13 Yangsen, Loobitsan, Duke, 137, White Army, xiv 140, 144, 152 > Wilder, Dr. George D., ix, 256 | Yero mines, gold found at, 179 Wireless station in course of | Yiin-nan, vii, 2, 106 erection, 182 Yurt, Mongol house, description — Wolf, 51, 57 of, 10, 57, 63 (1) 4< bo ii ace 7 , Ff et TAree | - oe ef a PS ara mee Tyo Ae Si Le) dad * 48a’ ‘ co, Oe a Verdes ‘ I Ag ; hy - Le Ms i We - 7 \ a } 2 toes ' , ; = . % + ¥ . “ ’ ¢ * , ‘ ' ss i =F, AY