AFTER ARGALI AND WAPITI
Early next morning, the Mongol hunter having been found, and his
services secured, Warrington and I set out for the mountains. Crossing
the five miles of plain, we reached the mouth of a deep valley, where,
in a small village, we found our guide waiting for us.
Here we left our ponies, and, crossing the boulder-strewn valley bottom,
began a stiff climb, which finally brought us to the top of a high
ridge. From this point our view extended over a wide panorama of rugged
mountains and deep and precipitous valleys and ravines. These we scanned
carefully with field-glasses, but finding nothing, descended into one of
the valleys, and began to work up it.
Almost at once we found ourselves in game country, for we had not gone
far before we spied a sheep watching us from the crest of a side ridge.
He did not seem to mind our presence, so that we were able to get a shot
at him. Unfortunately the size of the animal misled us in estimating the
distance, so that our bullets fell short. With a few bounds he was up
the side of the hill and away. Further up the valley three magnificent
rams, which had been disturbed by some woodcutters, came bounding down a
small ravine, but, catching sight of us, they turned abruptly, and with
incredible speed tore diagonally across the steep mountain side. Gaining
the valley bottom, they broke away in the direction we had just come,
and were soon out of sight round a bend. A shot or two at these also
failed to find a mark.
Somewhat discouraged by our poor shooting, we turned up a side ravine,
and after a long, gradual ascent, came out upon some grassy uplands. As
we skirted the edge of these, the quick eye of the Mongol detected three
rams grazing upon a patch of green grass at the bottom of a valley. This
was what we wanted, so ducking down to keep out of sight, we crept away
from the crest of the ridge, and made a long detour. On our way we put
up a herd of six or eight ewes, which scampered off, stopping every now
and then to gaze back at us. At last we reached a clump of rocks, which
I had marked as being directly above the grazing rams. Cautiously
peeping over, I was disappointed to find the latter had gone, but, on
looking up, I saw all three grazing on the opposite slope, about four
hundred yards away, as I estimated. I beckoned to Warrington to creep up
beside me: we both took careful aim and fired. To our chagrin the
bullets again fell far short of the sheep, which at once made off with
long bounds. Again and again we fired, but missed hopelessly every time.
They crossed a low ridge into a second ravine, presently appearing
again, slowly climbing a distant slope. Three other rams emerged from
the same ravine, and broke westward for the highest ground.
PLATE VIII.
[Illustration:
THE AUTHOR AND HIS BIG RAM, PHOTOGRAPHED WHERE IT FELL.
_Opposite p. 114._]
]
This was indeed disappointing. So clear was the atmosphere that we could
see every detail of those rams as they had stood there on the hillside,
in spite of the fact that they must have been from six to eight hundred
yards distant. Besides, not having seen an argali at close quarters, we
did not realize their immense size, and so judged them to be much nearer
than they were. We saw no more sheep that day, though we both had a shot
at a large wolf.
On our way back down the crest of a long ridge we suddenly came upon two
roe-deer, both of which I bagged. At last, tired and hungry, but full of
enthusiasm, we returned to our quarters in K’uei-hua-ch’êng, where we
recounted our adventures to our companions.
The heavy day’s climbing on top of our long journey so tired us that we
did not feel inclined to go after sheep next day, but spent the time
overhauling tents and other gear, with a view to making a camp right in
the mountains, so saving the daily ride from town to the hunting grounds
and back.
The following morning saw us once more heading for the mountains, this
time with two tents, stores, collecting outfit, beds and bedding,
together with other camping requisites, loaded upon five camels. The
latter, being unable to climb the first ridge, were obliged to make a
considerable detour, and follow up from the plain the course of the
valley, in which we intended to camp. We left them to take this route,
while we crossed the ridge in order to get in a bit of shooting.
This time, as there were four of us, we split up into two parties, one
following up the valley, the other climbing the side and working along
the top of the ridge. After having gone about half a mile those on the
ridge put up a small herd of sheep, which broke back towards the mouth
of the valley. They crossed it about five hundred yards below me. With
the sun full in my eyes, I had difficulty in making them out, but let
fly with my rifle, apparently doing no damage. Turning to follow them, I
arrived at the spot where the herd had crossed the valley, and hunted
about to pick up the trail. To my surprise I found a spot of blood. At
this moment Schröder appeared at the end of the spur above me, so waving
to him to come down, I began following up the tracks of the wounded
sheep.
Presently he joined me, and together we spent an hour or more working
out the somewhat difficult trail. It led us up a steep and rugged
mountain side, across the divide and down the face of a precipice.
Sometimes we actually could not climb down the places taken by the
wounded sheep at a bound, and were forced to find easier paths. At last
the blood in the trail increased. There were several big splotches,
showing where the animal had stood to rest, or look back along the
trail. Presently, as we rounded a bend, a large ewe sprang up from a
sheltered nook, and with only three sound legs began to climb upwards
with wonderful agility. Our rifles rang out, and the sheep came rolling
down the precipitous slope, fetching up at the bottom of a ravine a
hundred feet below us. Naturally, I was greatly disappointed at its
being a ewe. Owing to the distance, and the fact that I had the
afternoon sun full in my eyes when I fired, I could not make out clearly
of what the herd had consisted. However, for my collection this ewe was
more valuable than a ram, owing to the females of the genus _Ovis_
showing more plainly the cranial characteristics of the species, so I
could not complain. It was more than either Schröder or I could do to
carry the sheep, but after gutting it we tied the carcase upon the
native hunter’s back, who being more accustomed to the heavy gradients,
managed to pack it to camp. We estimated the weight of the ewe at about
200 lb.
By the time we reached the site chosen for camp the tents were up and a
delicious cup of tea awaited us. Dinner followed very shortly, and after
setting a line of traps for small quadrupeds we turned in.
The following day we continued to hunt, but saw only two old rams all
day. Two young sheep (two-year-olds), a ram and an ewe were shot by two
of the party. These also came in handy for specimens, though their coats
were in very poor condition. I bagged another roe-deer late in the
afternoon.
The third day was more propitious, at least for one member of the party,
who was fortunate enough to secure a ram with a fine pair of horns. The
lucky man was Brodie, who, with Warrington, was working the ridges to
the south of our camp, while Schröder and I tried the higher country
further west. They had sighted and followed for a considerable distance
two old rams, but had at last given up the chase as hopeless, and were
sitting on a ridge watching their quarry away across a wide valley.
Suddenly the rams turned back and came full speed towards the ridge upon
which sat the hunters. There was a small ravine on either side of this
ridge. The rams entered the one on the right, and, having arrived
opposite the two crouching men, stopped and stared back along the path
they had come. Both sportsmen fired, but the rams crossed the next
ridge, seemingly unhurt. Following them up, however, Warrington, being
younger, lighter and more agile than his companion, outstripped him, and
came upon one of the rams lying in the ravine bottom. He hurried up to
the prostrate animal, which suddenly jumped up, and, realizing that he
was cornered, lowered his ponderous head and charged. Visions of being
crushed between that mass of horn and the solid rock behind him crossed
the lad’s mind, but he had the sense to fire low at the oncoming and
infuriated ram. His bullet struck the brute in the chest and dropped him
dead.
We now had one more day to spare, and I had not yet secured my head. I
had picked up two skulls with fine pairs of horns, one of which,
measuring 19½ inches in circumference at the base, constitutes a record.
I badly wanted a head for myself, however, and determined that I would
get one somehow that day. I was convinced that the grassy upland was the
most likely spot for me to get my sheep, so, accompanied by Schröder, I
proceeded up the valley from our camp. Brodie and Warrington were also
heading for the same district, but by a different route. Arriving upon
the grassy heights we sat down to rest and look round. Presently
Schröder spotted three rams on an adjacent ridge. I got out my glasses
and made out that the leader had a fine pair of horns. The rams, which
had not seen us, moved slowly over the ridge. After a hurried
consultation, it was decided that I should go down the valley, skirt the
end of the ridge over which the rams had disappeared, and work up the
next ravine or valley. Meanwhile Schröder and the other two, whom we
could see approaching over the rolling uplands, would station themselves
in suitable positions to intercept the flight of the rams when I had
disturbed them. I was soon at the bottom of the valley, and having
reached the end of the ridge in question, decided to climb up it, as in
this way I could keep more ground in view. At last as I neared the top I
came upon a wide ravine, or “draw,” shaped like an amphitheatre, and
communicating with the main valley by means of a narrow outlet. It was
this draw which the three rams must have entered on crossing the ridge.
I stopped to get my breath, at the same time carefully scanning the
slopes for any signs of the sheep. Not seeing any, I was about to
continue up the ridge, when, glancing at the narrow opening, I was
surprised to see the three rams come quietly sauntering up a
grasscutter’s path. There was the leader with the fine pair of horns,
followed closely by a young ram, whose horns had only attained a
semicircle. The third ram, which in size was not far short of the
leader, showed more independence and lagged in the rear, nibbling at
tufts of grass along the path.
All these details I took in as I slowly raised my rifle. The leader must
have caught the sun-flash on my rifle-barrel, for he suddenly looked
straight up at me. It was now or never, so keeping the sights low I
pressed the trigger. The leader collapsed, kicked once or twice and lay
still. I tried a second hurried shot at the third ram, as he turned and
dashed out of the ravine, but failed to hit him. Scarcely believing my
eyes, I carefully descended towards the ram, keeping a sharp look-out,
with my rifle ready in case he should get up and start off, as so often
happens with big game. My precautions were unnecessary, however, as he
was stone dead. My bullet had taken him in the spine, just above the
shoulder, where it had lodged. A hot wave passed down my back as I
realized how nearly I had missed him. After taking some photographs, the
hunter and I skinned the ram, which, on measurements being taken, was
found to be 45¾ inches at the shoulder, and 55½ inches round the chest.
The horns at their base had a circumference of 18½ inches, and were 43
inches in length, having one complete turn.
The following day, after a fruitless chase after a couple of gorals, we
struck camp and returned to K’uei-hua-ch’êng. My traps yielded nothing
whatsoever during our stay in the sheep country, from which it may be
inferred that that country is very poor in mammals. Indeed, besides the
sheep, the roe-deer, a few gorals and the wolf, the only mammals we saw
were one or two chipmunks. Birds also were very scarce; eagles, kites,
crows, larks and a few partridges and chukars were all we saw. The
scarcity of animal life in this district is doubtless due to the
corresponding lack of vegetation, there being only very little scrub and
no timber, either large or small.
WAPITI
Our next objective was a point some thirty miles west of the sheep
country, where, the natives said, there were plenty of wapiti, and even
tigers. Thus, after a day or two spent in K’uei-hua-ch’êng we once more
left that town, taking a westerly direction. We had the five camels
again, this time augmented by a cart, as we had further to go and were
taking more stuff.
We followed the main road for seventy li (about 20 miles), passing many
farms and one or two small villages on the way, and finally arrived at
Pi-ch’ien-ch’i, a large market village. There we put up for the night in
a fairly good inn.
Next day it was raining when we rose, and we were delayed till noon,
when we once more set out, this time in a more northerly direction. The
poor camels had a terrible time, as they slipped and floundered about in
the mud. They cried piteously whenever they came to a bad part, and it
was only with the greatest difficulty that they were induced to proceed
at all. Presently we reached the mountains, and entering a deep and
winding valley followed it up for about ten miles, when, as darkness was
descending, we were obliged to put up for the night at a small village
named Wu-lan-pan.
Continuing up the valley the following day, we crossed the divide at its
head, and entered a second, much larger valley, up which we travelled as
far as a tiny hamlet called Ssŭ-he-tien, where we had lunch. Leaving
this place, we entered a deep side ravine, the winding boulder-strewn
course of which we followed as far as the cart could go. At this point
we stopped and pitched camp.
We were now in the very heart of a region of high, rugged and
precipitous mountains, the deep gorges and ravines of which were filled
with small timber. This extended up the steep slopes in many places,
while away down in the shadowy ravine bottoms sparkling brooks, now only
partially ice-bound, gurgled and plashed over the rounded pebbles and
polished boulders. Here and there deep pools temptingly invited a
plunge, but the little fringe of ice acted as a gentle reminder of the
still frigid temperature. In these pools shoals of small fish might be
seen darting in and out of the dark caves beneath the overhanging rocks.
On the mountain sides the tender green of the sprouting poplars and
hazels contrasted strangely with the deep colour of a few scattered
pines, while the mountain peach and wild apricot blossomed pink and
white, lending a soft beauty to the landscape. Above all the jagged
needle-like peaks of granite towered away into the azure blue of the
cloudless sky, like the enchanted castles of our childhood’s
fairy-tales.
Having arranged camp to our satisfaction, we immediately set out in
search of game wherewith to fill our larder, as we had brought no meat
with us. We had climbed the opposite slope but halfway, when three
roe-deer were put up. Our rifles rang out, but the deer continued
bounding through the bushes. One, however, broke away from the others
and came towards us. Schröder and I fired simultaneously and the deer
rolled over. He turned out to be a young buck, and there were two wounds
in the hindquarters. We returned to camp feeling that there were several
days’ good sport ahead of us.
That night as we lay in bed we heard many strange noises. The far-away
hoot of the great eagle owl was wafted to us on the night air; the night
jar uttered his peculiar knocking call, which seemed to come from
everywhere and yet from nowhere in particular; down by the stream the
resonant croak of the mountain frog rose from the water’s edge; but
pleasantest of all to our ears was the barking of a roe-deer close on
the slope behind our tent.
We were up before daybreak the following morning, and after a hasty
breakfast started up the valley in search of wapiti. A long and
strenuous climb brought us to the top of a high ridge between two peaks.
Here the winter snows still lay deep on the shady side, and we could see
the large fresh tracks of our quarry, and mark the spots where they had
bedded down the day before. We climbed almost to the summit of one of
the peaks, but finding no further tracks descended into a valley, along
which we worked. Here I picked up a good fresh trail, and with
Warrington keeping close behind me, followed it along the steep slopes.
It led us across small ravines, round the shoulders of sharp ridges,
over rocky screes, and through dense patches of hazel-scrub, but the
trail grew ever fresher. At last as we topped one of the knife-like
ridges, the graceful form of a large deer sprang from the scrub below
us, and with long, easy bounds went sailing like thistledown across a
wide ravine. Vainly we discharged our rifles again and again. Once the
deer staggered, but recovering continued, till just as he reached and
began to climb the opposite ridge, a shot from Warrington’s rifle
brought him to his knees. For a bit he struggled madly to continue, but
presently lay quiet in some tall grass. Sending Warrington across to
knife, if necessary, the wounded animal, I took up a commanding position
upon the ridge, and prepared to intercept the deer if he attempted to
escape. Just as my companion reached the spot where our quarry lay, the
latter sprang up and began to scramble down the hill. Not realizing the
size of the animal, I called to Warrington to grab him. He managed to
secure one hind leg, and for some minutes those of us who were watching,
witnessed a desperate struggle between a not over big lad and a young
wapiti stag the size of a mule. Hanging on like grim death, Warrington
was battered about, and jerked backwards and forwards as the struggling
deer kicked madly to free himself. He dragged his captor up and down the
slope. Away above me I could hear Schröder’s voice, “Stay with it,
Freddie! Stay with it.” Stay with it he did, and when the deer’s
struggles ceased for a moment, he let go the leg hold and planted
himself firmly upon the animal’s head. Scarcely was he seated, however,
when the stag with a terrific heave sent him rolling head over heels
down the slope. At this moment two beaters arrived on the scene. One of
these incautiously tried to grasp the deer’s hind leg, and received a
kick in the pit of the stomach that ripped open his wadded clothes and
sent him rolling to join Warrington at the bottom of the ravine. At
last, however, the plucky creature was overcome by numbers and received
the _coup de grâce_. On examination, we found that there were two wounds
in the animal, so divided the honours, though Warrington’s last shot
brought it down.
The two beaters carried the carcase back to camp, while we made the
circuit of one of the high peaks in search of more game. Nothing more
was seen, however, except a few roe-deer, one of which I shot.
Schröder and Brodie, after witnessing the finishing of our wapiti,
continued up over the top of the peak, and descended the other side into
some favourable looking country. Here they caught sight of five wapiti
feeding away down in a valley, and by dint of careful stalking managed
to bag two. These were larger and older than the one we had already
secured, but in no way remarkable. Unfortunately it was the wrong season
for horns, in spite of the fact that the Chinese had told us that we
might expect to find good heads. This being the case we decided to hunt
no more wapiti, hoping some day to revisit the same country at a more
propitious season.[3]
We now turned our attention to the gorals, which from time to time had
been seen. Schröder especially wanted to get one, and spent all his
remaining time climbing difficult peaks in search of these elusive,
chamois-like animals.
On the third day of our visit to this district Warrington and I
determined to work a section of precipitous country, hitherto unexplored
by any of the party. We climbed up a long, rocky ridge—one of a series
which radiated from a massive peak to the north of our camp. As we
neared this peak, Warrington caught sight of a good-sized goral, which
almost immediately vanished in a labyrinth of rocks. A difficult climb
up the face of a perpendicular cliff brought us to a point above the
rocks, amongst which we supposed the goat to be hiding. By throwing
rocks and shouting we managed to drive out a fine roebuck, but there
were no signs of the animal we were after. I gradually reached a point
at the base of the peak, which rose above me in a precipitous wall of
granite for six or seven hundred feet. Suddenly a shower of rocks
scattering round me told us that the goral was somewhere on that rugged
cliff, but Warrington, who was a hundred yards or so out from the base,
could not make out where he was. We determined therefore to work round
the back of the peak in the hope of coming upon our quarry somewhere
near the summit.
A long stiff climb brought us out upon the crest of the peak whence we
could command a good view of the draws and ravines below us. Again we
began hurling rocks and shouting, working gradually away from the peak
down a high ridge to the east. Suddenly the goral darted out from the
base of a cliff below us, and crossing the draw, hid up under a second
low cliff on the opposite side. He was much too far away for a shot, so
we decided to get nearer. Accordingly Warrington climbed down to a
position exactly opposite the hiding goral, while I made a big detour
and came up from behind to the top of the cliff above the animal. Just
as I reached this point Warrington’s rifle rang out, I could hear
something moving in the bushes below me, but could see nothing. My
companion tried to direct my gaze to the right spot, but the hazel-scrub
was too thick for either of us to see our quarry. Presently with a rush
the goral broke cover and went scurrying down the ravine. We both fired,
but missed. Hurrying down the mountain side, I succeeded in heading him
off, as he was trying to get back to the high ground. Again and again he
doubled in an attempt to get past me, while every time I got a chance I
fired. The game was too strenuous, and at last I sat down on a spur of
rock to recover my breath, with the goral somewhere in a ravine below
me. The wily animal stole up from the ravine under cover of rocks and
bushes, and actually passed within a few feet of me. As soon as he was
past me he must have started running, for I heard a slight noise, and
looking round, saw him scampering off up the ridge. Using a rock on
which to rest my rifle, I tried several shots, but it was no use. The
terrible strain I had undergone, tearing back and forth over the rough
mountain side to keep the active animal from getting back amongst the
peaks, had used me up and I could not steady my aim, and to my
unspeakable chagrin and disappointment the goral escaped over the crest
of the ridge. He passed Warrington and the beaters unobserved, and was
well on his way to some high peaks behind the one where we had first
surprised him, when he nearly fell foul of Schröder and Brodie. These
two, with a couple of beaters, had been gradually working round towards
us, when, hearing our shots, they sat down to see if any game would be
driven their way. Presently they saw our goral come trotting along,
heading straight for them. Just as he was within easy range one of the
beaters coughed. Like a flash the active animal, rendered doubly so by
his recent experiences with us, dodged behind some rocks. When next they
saw him he was out of range climbing a distant ridge.
The following day I bagged a roe-deer with a very fine pair of horns.
This set the others trying to secure good roe-deer heads. Brodie next
bagged a large buck, whose horns, however, were in no way exceptional.
The last day of our stay in this region Warrington succeeded in getting
a pair of horns, which rivalled mine in length, but were not so well
shaped. No one saw another goral, and finally we were forced to return
to K’uei-hua-ch’êng without having secured one.
During our stay in these mountains I had my traps out, and secured a
vole or two, together with some mice and rats. Nothing new was caught.
Though there was no large timber in this district, there was no lack of
vegetation. Amongst other things we found a very delicious wild leek,
which served well as a table dish. Wild rhubarb was also very plentiful,
both here and in the mountains nearer K’uei-hua-ch’êng. We found this
very palatable, and it served to eke out our fast diminishing store of
canned fruit.
On June 1 we commenced our return journey to Kalgan. As our two
companions, Schröder and Brodie, were not quite ready to leave,
Warrington and I travelled alone. I decided to take the southern route
(i.e. the route which passes south of the T’ai Hai).
Leaving K’uei-hua-ch’êng we travelled first due south and then
south-west for seventy li, putting up at a village named Hsia-pu-na on
the plain. Here, we were surprised to learn, there were antelopes in the
vicinity. We decided to stay for a day and try our luck with them.
Early the following morning we rode out, accompanied by a guide. We had
not gone far when we suddenly came upon an antelope, which stood
watching us at no great distance. Before we could get our rifles ready,
however, he was off. A rapid shot only sent him flying like the wind. He
seemed to stretch out along the ground, as he sped like an arrow over
the sandy soil, and was soon out of sight.
Continuing, we put up a second antelope, which we followed up carefully.
Finally I got a shot at him, and bowled him over. He seemed to rebound
from the earth, however, and was off like a streak across a low ridge.
Following him up, we soon found his trail marked with splotches of
blood. For two hours we followed this, at last coming upon our antelope
lying out on a sandy stretch. He sprang to his feet on seeing us, and
once more started off at a good pace. Mounting our ponies, we foolishly
gave chase. We could not overtake the wounded animal. With my glasses I
had made out a big red patch on his side, showing where he had been hit.
In spite of this wound he led us for a ten-mile run, finally eluding us
in some broken country, where his trail got mixed up with a lot of
others equally fresh, and the blood having long since ceased to flow, we
were unable to track him further. We saw several other antelopes, but
were unable to get within range, so finally returned to Hsia-pu-na
without having secured one.
It was still early in the day, so we decided to continue our journey for
another half stage. Twenty li more of the plain, and we reached a deep
and winding gorge in the mountains, up which we travelled till we
reached a small village named Yang-p’o-yao-tzŭ. Here we put up for the
night.
Up to this point the sides of the ravine were of basalt, showing the
characteristic columnar cleavage, but from Yang-p’o-yao-tzŭ westward we
travelled, next day, through a deep and narrow ravine in rugged
mountains of granite. At noon, after crossing a high pass, we stopped at
a large village named Ning-yüan, which contains about one thousand
inhabitants, and is the seat of a small country official.
After leaving Ning-yüan and following the valley to its head, we crossed
a second rather low pass and once more descended into the T’ai Hai
basin, putting up for the night at a Catholic village named
Hsiang-ho-ti, on the western shore of the lake. Here we met several of
the Catholic priests, who, as usual, were very kind and courteous,
giving us all the information we required about the district.
The following day, June 4, we skirted the southern shore of the lake,
which extends in this direction about forty li, finally reaching a large
village named T’ien-ch’êng-ts’un, where we put up at a comfortable inn.
From this point westward to Yang-kao we traversed the same road as on
our outward journey. At Fên-chêng we received word that Yang-kao had
just been looted by mutinous troops. This made us somewhat anxious, but
two days later, when we reached that town, we found that order had been
restored, though all the tradespeople had been cleaned out, several
streets burnt, and $12,000[4] looted from the grain merchants.
As I wished to examine more carefully the geology of the country along
the Chang-sui Extension line, I sent Warrington on by rail with our
outfit, while I took the three ponies and traversed the distance between
Yang-kao and Kalgan by road. During this journey, which took three days,
we experienced very bad weather indeed. Several severe hailstorms,
followed by heavy rain, caused the Nan-yang Ho to swell, flooding the
valley so that we could only proceed along the railway embankment. In
one place where we were taking shelter under a railway arch, the
hailstones, ranging in size from marbles to pigeons’ eggs, lay from
three to six inches deep, giving the effect of a heavy fall of snow.
The grandeur of that storm as it rolled down from the north was superb.
Heavy black clouds, lit up in places by the westering sun, whose bright
rays they were about to cut off, came sweeping over the granite peaks
and down the steep slopes, pouring out a white wall of hail, which
seemed to pass like a scythe over the waving fields of early wheat. As
the hurricane, driving before it the yellow dust from the road, and
swirling mists of wind-sprayed rain, struck the tall poplars, they
groaned, bent and cracked. The stout trunks of some snapped like
matchwood; others were uprooted and hurled to the ground, where their
leaves were soon stripped off and beaten into the soil. Telegraph poles
went down in rows before the fury of that blast. As the heavy clouds
came overhead the light grew dim; the rain and hail fairly shrieked as
it thrashed upon the unyielding rocks, or churned the soft earth of the
fields into frothy mud; jagged forks of lightning ripped through the
inky pall, followed by the crash of thunder, which echoing and
re-echoing through the ravines and gorges sounded like the roll of
cannon in battle. Presently a dull persistent roar could be heard, which
steadily increased in volume till it drowned all other sounds, and
looking across the valley we saw a mighty rushing torrent sweeping all
before it, and bearing upon its foaming surface trees, bushes and debris
of all kinds. The terrified ponies whinnied and capered in their fear,
but finding that they could not break loose stood trembling under the
shelter of the arch. So severe was this particular storm that the train,
which had passed but a few minutes before, was held up at the next
station, as the engineer feared that it would be derailed if it caught
the full force of the gale when crossing the high bridges of the Tung
and Hsi-yang Ho. At last the storm passed, and the sun, before it dipped
behind the western peaks, shone through the mists, and bathed everything
in gold. The purple shadows lengthened and the chill of night descended,
as we sought shelter at the nearest station inn.
Next day, as the river was still in flood, we continued along the
embankment, noting the devastation wrought by yesterday’s storms. For
miles the telegraph poles were down, while hundreds of fine trees had
been laid low and already were being stripped of their branches and sawn
up into logs. In one place a landslide, bringing down with it three
mighty elms, effectually barred our path, necessitating a perilous
detour into the swirling waters and sinking sands of the river bed.
At last we reached Kalgan, having accomplished our task, and I at once
proceeded to Tientsin with my specimens. These I shipped to America
before the end of the month, and having worked up the results of our
observations, returned to Kalgan on July 10 ready to start a journey
into Mongolia.