NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL
The winter of 1918-19 we spent in and out of one of the most
interesting cities in the world. Peking, with its background of history
made vividly real by its splendid walls, its age-old temples and its
mysterious Forbidden City, has a personality of its own.
When we had been away for a month or two there was always a delightful
feeling of anticipation in returning to the city itself and to our
friends in its cosmopolitan community.
Moreover, at our house in Wu Liang Tajen Hutung, a baby boy and his
devoted nurse were waiting to receive us. Even at two years the
extraordinary facility with which he discovered frogs and bugs, which,
quite unknown to us, dwelt in the flower-filled courtyard, showed the
hereditary instincts of a born explorer.
That winter gave us an opportunity to see much of ancient China, for we
visited Shantung, traveled straight across the Provinces of Honan and
Hupeh, and wandered about the mountains of Che-kiang on a serow hunt.
In February the equipment for our summer's work in Mongolia was on its
way across the desert by caravan. We had sent flour, bacon, coffee,
tea, sugar, butter and dried fruit, for these could be purchased in
Urga only at prohibitive prices. Even then, with camel charges at
fourteen cents a _cattie_ (1-1/3 lbs.), a fifty-pound sack of flour
cost us more than six dollars by the time it reached Urga.
Charles Coltman at Kalgan very kindly relieved me of all the
transportation details. We had seen him several times in Peking during
the winter, and had planned the trip across the plains to Urga as _une
belle excursion_.
Mrs. Coltman was going, of course, as were Mr. and Mrs. "Ted" MacCallie
of Tientsin. "Mac" was a famous Cornell football star whom I knew by
reputation in my own college days. He was to take a complete Delco
electric lighting plant to Urga, with the hope of installing it in the
palace of the "Living God."
A soldier named Owen from the Legation guard in Peking was to drive the
Delco car, and I had two Chinese taxidermists, Chen and Kang, besides
Lü, our cook and camp boy.
Chen had been loaned to me by Dr. J. G. Andersson, Mining Adviser
to the Chinese Republic, and proved to be one of the best native
collectors whom I have ever employed. The Coltmans and MacCallies were
to stay only a few days in Urga, but they helped to make the trip
across Mongolia one of the most delightful parts of our glorious summer.
We left Kalgan on May 17. Mac, Owen, and I rode the forty miles to
Hei-ma-hou on horseback while Charles drove a motor occupied by the
three women. There is a circuitous route by which cars can cross the
pass under their own power, but Coltman preferred the direct road and
sent four mules to tow the automobile up the mountains to the edge of
the plateau.
It was the same trail I had followed the previous September. Then, as I
stood on the summit of the pass gazing back across the far, dim hills,
my heart was sad for I was about to enter a new land alone. My "best
assistant" was on the ocean coming as fast as steam could carry her
to join me in Peking. I wondered if Fate's decree would bring us here
together that we might both have, as a precious heritage for future
years, the memories of this strange land of romance and of mystery. Now
the dream had been fulfilled and never have I entered a new country
with greater hopes of what it would bring to me. Never, too, have such
hopes been more gloriously realized.
We packed the cars that night and at half past five the next morning
were on the road. The sky was gray and cloud-hung, but by ten o'clock
the sun burned out and we gradually emerged from the fur robes in which
we had been buried.
Instead of the fields of ripening grain which in the previous autumn
had spread the hills with a flowing golden carpet, we saw blue-clad
Chinese farmers turning long brown furrows with homemade plows. The
trees about the mission station had just begun to show a tinge of
green--the first sign of awakening at the touch of spring from the long
winter sleep. Already caravans were astir, and we passed lines of laden
camels now almost at the end of the long journey from Outer Mongolia,
whither we were bound. But, instead of splendid beasts with upstanding
humps and full neck beards, the camels now were pathetic mountains of
almost naked skin on which the winter hair hung in ragged patches.
The humps were loose and flat and flapped disconsolately as the great
bodies lurched along the trail.
When we passed one caravan a _débonnaire_ old Mongol wearing a derby
hat swung out of line and signaled us to stop. After an appraising
glance at the car he smiled broadly and indicated that he would like
to race. In a moment he was off yelling at the top of his lungs and
belaboring the bony sides of his camel with feet and hands. The
animal's ungainly legs swung like a windmill in every direction it
seemed, except forward, and yet the Mongol managed to keep his rolling
old "ship of the desert" abreast of us for several minutes. Finally
we let him win the race, and his look of delight was worth going far
to see as he waved us good-by and with a hearty "_sai-bei-nah_" loped
slowly back to the caravan.
The road was much better than it had been the previous fall. During the
winter the constant tramp of padded feet had worn down and filled the
ruts which had been cut by the summer traffic of spike-wheeled carts.
But the camels had almost finished their winter's work. In a few weeks
they would leave the trail to ox and pony caravans and spend the hot
months in idleness, storing quantities of fat in their great hump
reservoirs.
There was even more bird life than I had seen the previous September.
The geese had all flown northward where we would find them scattered
over their summer breeding grounds, but thousands of demoiselle cranes
(_Anthropoides virgo_) had taken their places in the fields. They were
in the midst of the spring courting and seemed to have lost all fear.
One pair remained beside the road until we were less than twenty feet
away, stepping daintily aside only when we threatened to run them
down. Another splendid male performed a love dance for the benefit of
his prospective bride quite undisturbed by the presence of our cars.
With half-spread wings he whirled and leaped about the lady while
every feather on her slim, blue body expressed infinite boredom and
indifference to his passionate appeal.
Ruddy sheldrakes, mallards, shoveler ducks, and teal were in even the
smallest ponds and avocets with sky-blue legs and slender recurved
bills ran along the shores of a lake at which we stopped for tiffin.
When we had passed the last Chinese village and were well in the
Mongolian grasslands we had great fun shooting gophers (_Citellus
mongolicus umbratus_) from the cars. It was by no means easy to kill
them before they slipped into their dens, and I often had to burrow
like a terrier to pull them out even when they were almost dead.
We got eighteen, and camped at half past four in order that the
taxidermists might have time to prepare the skins. There was a hint
of rain in the air and we pitched the tent for emergencies, although
none of us wished to sleep inside. Mac suggested that we utilize the
electric light plant even if we were on the Mongolian plains. In half
an hour he had installed wires in the tent and placed an arc lamp
on the summit of a pole. It was an extraordinary experience to see
the canvas walls about us, to hear the mournful wail of a lone wolf
outside, and yet be able to turn the switch of an electric light as
though we were in the city. No arc lamp on Fifth Avenue blazed more
brightly than did this one on the edge of the Gobi Desert where none of
its kind had ever shone before. With the motor cars which had stolen
the sanctity of the plains it was only another evidence of the passing
of Mongolian mystery.
Usually when we camped we could see, almost immediately, the
silhouettes of approaching Mongols black against the evening sky. Where
they came from we could never guess. For miles there might not have
been the trace of a human being, but suddenly they would appear as
though from out the earth itself. Perhaps they had been riding along
some distant ridge far beyond the range of white men's eyes, or the
roar of a motor had carried to their ears across the miles of plain; or
perhaps it was that unknown sense, which seems to have been developed
in these children of the desert, which directs them unerringly to
water, to a lost horse, or to others of their kind. Be it what it may,
almost every night the Mongols came loping into camp on their hardy,
little ponies.
But this evening, when we had prepared an especial celebration, the
audience did not arrive. It was a bitter disappointment, for we were
consumed with curiosity to know what effect the blazing arc would
have upon the Mongolian stoics. We could not believe that natives
had not seen the light but probably they thought it was some spirit
manifestation which was to be avoided. An hour after we were snuggled
in our fur sleeping bags, two Mongols rode into camp, but we were too
sleepy to give an exhibition of the fire-works.
We reached Panj-kiang about noon of the second day and found that a
large mud house and a spacious compound had been erected beside the
telegraph station by the Chinese company which was endeavoring to
maintain a passenger service between Kalgan and Urga. The Chinese
government also had invaded the field and was sending automobiles
regularly to the Mongolian capital as a branch service of the
Peking-Suiyuan railroad. In the previous September we had passed
half a dozen of their motors in charge of a foreign representative
of Messrs. Jardine, Matheson and Co. of Shanghai from whom the cars
were purchased. He discovered immediately that the difficulties which
the Chinese had encountered were largely the result of incompetent
chauffeurs.
We had kept a sharp lookout for antelope, but saw nothing except a fox
which looked so huge in the clear air that all of us were certain it
was a wolf. There are always antelope on the Panj-kiang plain, however,
and we loaded the magazines of our rifles as soon as we left the
telegraph station. I was having a bit of sport with an immense flock
of golden plover (_Pluvialis dominicus fulvus_) when the people in the
cars signaled me to return, for a fine antelope buck was standing only
a few hundred yards from the road. The ground was as smooth and hard as
an asphalt pavement and we skimmed along at forty miles an hour. When
the animal had definitely made up its mind to cross in front of us,
Charles gave the accelerator a real push and the car jumped to a speed
of forty-eight miles. The antelope was doing his level best to "cross
our bows" but he was too far away, and for a few moments it seemed that
we would surely crash into him if he held his course. It was a great
race. Yvette had a death grip on my coat, for I was sitting half over
the edge of the car ready to jump when Charles threw on the brakes.
With any one but Coltman at the wheel I would have been too nervous to
enjoy the ride, but we all had confidence in his superb driving.
The buck crossed the road not forty yards in front of us, just at the
summit of a tiny hill. Charles and I both fired once, and the antelope
turned half over in a whirl of dust. It disappeared behind the hill
crest and we expected to find it dead on the other side, but the slope
was empty and even with our glasses we could not discover a sign of
life on the plain, which stretched away to the horizon apparently as
level as a floor. It had been swallowed utterly as though by the magic
pocket of a conjurer.
Mac had not participated in the fun, for it had been a one-man race.
Fifteen minutes later, however, we had a "free for all" which gave him
his initiation.
An extract from Yvette's "Journal" gives her impression of the chase:
"Some one pointed out the distant, moving specks on the horizon and in
a moment our car had left the road and started over the plains. Nearer
and nearer we came, and faster and faster ran the antelope stringing
out in a long, yellow line before us. The speedometer was moving up
and up, thirty miles, thirty-five miles. Roy was sitting on the edge
of the car with his legs hanging out, rifle in hand, ready to swing to
the ground as soon as the car halted. Mr. Coltman, who was driving,
had already thrown on the brakes, but Roy, thinking in his excitement
that he had stopped, jumped--and jumped too soon. The speed at which
we were going threw him violently to the ground. I hardly dared look
to see what had happened but somehow he turned a complete somersault,
landed on his knees, and instantly began shooting. Mr. Coltman, his
hands trembling with the exertion of the drive, opened fire across the
wind shield. As the first reports crashed out, the antelope, which had
seemed to be flying before, flattened out and literally skimmed over
the plain. Half a dozen bullets struck behind the herd, then as Roy's
rifle cracked again, one of those tiny specks dropped to the ground.
PLATE IV
[Illustration: THE WATER CARRIER FOR A CARAVAN]
[Illustration: A THIRTY-FIVE POUND BUZZARD]
[Illustration: YOUNG MONGOLIA]
"If was a wonderful shot--four hundred and twenty yards measured
distance. No, this isn't a woman's inaccuracy of figures, it's a fact.
But then you must remember the extraordinary clearness of the air in
Mongolia, where every object appears to be magnified half a dozen
times. The brilliant atmosphere is one of the most bewildering things
of the desert. Once we thought we saw an antelope grazing on the
hillside and Mr. Coltman remarked disdainfully: 'Pooh, that's a horse.'
But the laugh was on him for as we drew near the 'horse' proved to be
only a bleached bone. At a short distance camels and ponies stood out
as though cut in steel, seeming as high as a village church steeple;
and, most ridiculous of all, my husband mistook me once at a long, long
distance for a telegraph pole! Tartarin de Tarascon would have had some
wonderful stories to tell of Mongolia!"
We had hardly reached the road again before Mrs. Coltman discovered a
great herd of antelope on the slope of a low hill, and when the cars
carried us over the crest we could see animals in every direction,
feeding in pairs or in groups of ten to forty.
We all agreed that no better place could be found at which to obtain
motion pictures and camp was made forthwith. Unfortunately, the
gazelles were shedding their winter coats and the skins were useless
except for study; however, I did need half a dozen skeletons, so the
animals we killed would not be wasted.
It was four o'clock in the afternoon when the tents were up and too
late to take pictures; therefore, the photography was postponed until
the next day, and we ran over toward a herd of antelope which was
just visible on the sky line. When each of us had killed an animal,
the opinion was unanimous that we had enough. I got mine on the first
chase and thenceforth employed my time in making observations on the
antelope's speed.
Time after time the car reached forty miles an hour, but with an even
start the gazelles could swing about in front and "cross our bows."
One of the antelope had a front leg broken just below the knee, and
gave us a hard chase with the car going at thirty-five miles an hour. I
estimated that even in its crippled condition the animal was traveling
at a rate of _not less than twenty-five miles an hour_.
My field notes tell of a similar experience with the last gazelle
which Mac killed late in the afternoon. "... We ran toward another
group of antelope standing on the summit of a long land swell. There
were fourteen in this herd and as the car neared them they trotted
about with heads up, evidently trying to decide what species of plains
animal we represented. The sun had just set, and I shall never forget
the picture which they made, their graceful figures showing in black
silhouettes against the rose glow of the evening sky. There was one
buck among them and they seemed very nervous. When the men leaped out
to shoot we were fully two hundred and fifty yards away, but at his
third shot Mac dropped the buck. It was up again and off before the
motor started in pursuit and, although running apart from the herd,
it was only a short distance behind the others. Evidently the right
foreleg was broken but with the car traveling at twenty-five miles
an hour it was still drawing ahead. The going was not good and we
ran for two miles without gaining an inch; then we came to a bit of
smooth plain and the motor shot ahead at thirty-five miles an hour.
We gained slowly and, when about one hundred yards away, I leaped out
and fired at the animal breaking the other foreleg low down on the
left side. Even with two legs injured it still traveled at a rate of
fifteen miles, and a third shot was required to finish the unfortunate
business. We found that both limbs were broken below the knee, and that
the animal had been running on the stumps."