MONGOLIA.
We left Chan-kia-kow on horseback, escorted by three of our
kind Russian friends, Messieurs Weretenikoff, Iguminoff, and
Beloselutsoff, who accompanied us a few miles up the pass, and bid
us God speed. It took a long time for our camel-drivers to form the
order of march, and we had got far ahead of them. So, coming to
a spot where there was a little grass, we dismounted to give our
beasts a feed, thus putting in practice a maxim which travellers in
strange countries learn by daily experience to adopt for themselves
and their beasts,--to eat when they can.
My pony, being rather sharp in the back, I had over-done him with
thick saddle-cloths in my anxiety to preserve him in ridable
condition; for though very old he was a rare good one, but viciously
inclined, having once before had his paws on my shoulders. As the
camels hove in sight, I essayed to mount, but had not got into my
seat when, what with the pony's capers and bad saddling, I came
to grief, and was left sprawling on my face on the stones, which
spoiled my physiognomy and my temper at the same time, and nearly
obliterated one optic. It was painful to contemplate my brave steed
careering about with my good saddle under his belly, and reins going
all to pieces amongst his legs. The vision of a month's riding
vanished away in a moment. A ray of hope dawned on me as I saw my
favourite settle down in a small enclosure, bearing a poor crop
of under-grown millet, but there was no one near to catch him.
After a little, the husband-man appeared, and stoutly remonstrated
with me for turning my cattle into his field. I was in no mood to
tolerate abuse, for my abraded skin was smarting considerably. I
offered the aggrieved agriculturist the alternative of catching my
pony, or leaving him where he was. The Mongols, and also the Chinese
borderers, are very expert in catching horses--their favourite
dodge is to crawl up to his head on all-fours. My friend tried
this, but he was unfortunately too fat, and when he got his hand
within an inch and a-half of the remnant of my poor bridle, the pony
started off and went straight back at full gallop in the direction
of Chan-kia-kow. My heart died within me at the sight. The camels
having now come up, one of the men went in pursuit, and with the
assistance of the country people brought back the renegade, with the
loss of my bridle and one stirrup--not so bad as I expected.
The pass is a narrow gorge between steep hills, with little
cultivated corners here and there. A small stream trickles down
the side, and the road is strewn with round pebbles, which gives
it the appearance of the bed of a river. The ascent is very steady
and regular, gaining considerably more than 2000 feet in fifteen
miles. The road is tolerable all the way, until about the top of the
ascent, which is very rough and rocky. Rather late in the evening we
got to our halting-place well on to the table land, which is at an
elevation of 5300 feet above the sea.
The Chinese are the most patient and persevering agriculturists
in the world. They have pushed their aggressions through the pass
at Chan-kia-kow--on the hill-sides, where-ever they can find soil
enough to hold together--and into the skirts of the desert itself.
They get but a poor return for their labour, however; their crops
seem to struggle for bare existence, and the farmers must depend
more on their live stock than their crops.
In other parts of Mongolia the Chinese have been more successful
in extending their civilising influence into the prairie. In the
kingdom of the Ouniots, further to the north, Huc tells us that
since the Chinese, following their invariable custom, began to
penetrate into the country of the Mongols, about the middle of the
seventeenth century, the forests have disappeared from the hills,
the prairies have been cleared by fire, and the new cultivators
have exhausted the fecundity of the soil. "It is probably to
_their system of devastation_ that we must attribute the extreme
irregularity of the seasons which now desolate this unhappy land." A
curse seems to have rested on the industrious invaders. The seasons
are out of joint. Droughts are frequent, then sand-storms and
hurricanes, then torrents of rain which wash away fields and crops
together in a general deluge, and the land is thenceforth incapable
of being ploughed. Famines follow, and the people torment themselves
with presentiments of calamity.
That all this is due to the Chinese agriculturists is hard to
comprehend. It is not their practice elsewhere to "exhaust the
fecundity of the soil." Huc propounds the new and strange doctrine
that cultivation of deserts is a system of devastation. The truth
seems to be that Huc, with the strong partiality he always evinces
to the Mongols, was over-credulous of their stories. The Mongols,
very naturally, consider themselves aggrieved by the Chinese. The
latter first bought the right of cultivating the prairie, and, as
their numbers increased, the weaker race necessarily gave way,
moving their tents and their sheep further and further into the
desert. The poor Mongols now see, with feelings of sorrow, the
plough desecrating the ground where their fathers fed their flocks;
they look with hopeless regret on the past as a kind of golden
age, which their fancy dresses in a halo of peace, happiness, and
prosperity. The hated Kitat at once suggests himself as the cause of
these changes, and the Mongols delight to feed their hatred out of
the copious store of their imagination.
A process exactly analogous has been going on in the country of
the Manchus, where the arable soil has been occupied by Chinese
colonists, almost to the entire exclusion of the natives. Hatred is
strongly developed there also; but I can answer for it that there,
at least, cultivation has not exhausted the fecundity of the soil,
nor devastated the country.
The Chinese also with whom Huc conversed would readily admit the
superiority of the past. They have a reverence for antiquity, and
whenever they could spare a thought from the stern realities of the
present, they would mourn their hard fate, and exalt the glories of
the past.
The sun had been very hot all day, but when we came to pitch our
tent at night we were shivering with cold, and could with difficulty
hold the hammer to drive the pins into the ground. It is always
chilly at night in Mongolia, even in the hot weather, but we were
not prepared for such a degree of cold on the 26th August, in
latitude 41°. All our blankets were brought into requisition, and we
passed a comfortable night. Next morning the thermometer, which was
under a blanket, showed 35° Fahrenheit.
The morning of the 27th of August was as bright and cheery as the
most lively fancy could paint. The air resounded with the notes of
hosts of skylarks, which one does not often hear in these far-off
regions. The sun warmed up fast, and in a few hours dried up the
heavy dew that lay on the grass in the early morning. The pasture
was exceedingly rich, and sprinkled with "gowans" and other wild
flowers, which imparted a delicious fragrance to the fresh morning
air. Many herds of cattle and horses were scattered over the
plain, the Mongol herdsmen incessantly galloping round their flocks
to keep them together, their shouts audible from great distances
in the still air, and the perpetual movement of vast numbers of
parti-coloured beasts gave an animation to the scene which was quite
exhilarating to the spirits. A small brook trickled tortuously
through the plain, where we managed to kill a few snipe, greatly
to the delight of the straggling Mongols, who rode up to us from
various quarters. The only building in sight was a temple which we
had passed in the night, and which was the last brick-and-mortar
structure we were to see for many days. We were now fairly among
the dwellers in tents, and began to realise what it was to be cut
off from civilised life; for, whatever may be the various opinions
of Chinese civilisation in its higher developments, you can at all
events obtain in China every necessary and many luxuries for money.
In the "Land of Grass" we had to depend on our own resources, but
with the comfortable assurance that these were amply sufficient for
us. Our introduction to nomad life was under happy auspices, and we
were at the outset favourably impressed with the Mongols and their
country, an impression which never entirely wore out, even under
very adverse circumstances. I never till that morning experienced
the consciousness of absolute _freedom_. Many Mongol visitors rode
up to our encampment, bringing plentiful supplies of new milk,
cheese, and other preparations from milk very like Devonshire cream.
About 8 o'clock the camels were got in, and we made a start,
halting again at noon near the "yourts" of some Lama friends of
our camel-drivers. This was a short stage, and we endeavoured to
remonstrate with our conductor, but as at that time we could not
understand a word of each other's language, the broad Saxon merely
provoking a volley of guttural Mongol, we made no progress towards
a mutual understanding. We were again favoured with numerous
visitors, and our conductor had evidently serious business to
negotiate, which occupied the whole afternoon. It ended in his
exchanging his pony for another, and getting a fresh camel. It was
close on sunset before the camels were loaded, and a fresh start
effected. During our halt we had time to make the acquaintance of
our camel-drivers. The chief was a Lama named Tup-tchun, a good,
easy man, with all the native simplicity of his race. He was the
responsible man to us, and I believe owned the camels. He had two
assistants; the first a clansman of his own, Tellig by name, a fine,
good-natured, bullet-headed, swarthy-complexioned, indefatigable
fellow, the equanimity of whose temper nothing could ever disturb.
The Lama placed his whole confidence in Tellig, and we naturally
did the same as we became better acquainted with the excellence of
his character. The other had a name I never could pronounce, so I
will not attempt to spell it. He had some taint of wickedness in his
eye, and showed more craft and cunning than the average Mongol. He
could likewise speak a few words of Chinese, hence we gave him the
nickname of _Kitat_, the Mongol name for Chinese, a word abominated
by all true Mongols. He stoutly rebelled for a long time against his
new name, but it greatly amused his companions, and, as he was never
called by any other appellative, he was compelled at last to answer
to Kitat.
The order of our march was this. One of the Mongols on a camel
rode ahead, leading the next camel by a string from his nose. Half
the caravan followed him in single file, each camel being slightly
attached to the preceding by his nose-string. The other driver, also
on a camel, brought up the rear-guard in the same way. The Lama
was more privileged, for he never took any active part in leading
the caravan, but rode about on a pony, talking now to Tellig, now
to the Kitat, and now to us, then suddenly breaking out into some
of his wild native chants. He had a fine sonorous voice, and his
singing was a pleasant relief from the monotony of the way, and when
Tellig joined in chorus they made the welkin ring. The Mongols sing
with their natural voice, and have far more music in their souls
than the squeaking Chinese. The Lama indulged himself in a gossip
with every traveller he met, and would often be left out of sight,
but with his active pony he could easily overtake the slow-moving
camels. When he descried a Mongol yourt in the distance he seldom
missed a chance of riding up to it, to bestow his benediction on the
inmates, and drink tea with them. Nor was the Lama entirely useless
on the march, for the rearward camels were frequently getting loose,
and dropping into the rear, as Tellig and the Kitat seldom thought
of looking behind them. The moment a camel feels himself at liberty
he stops to graze. I have never seen one voluntarily follow his
leader. Great delay occurred sometimes from this cause, and the
Lama saved us much time by riding after a stray camel, dexterously
catching up the nose-string with his whip-handle, and leading the
straggler up to the caravan. The leading-string of the camel is
fastened to the gear of his leader in such a loose manner that a
very slight resistance is enough to undo it. The reason for this is
that if the string were secured firmly, any check in the rear camel,
or the leading one advancing from a halt before the rear one was
ready, would tear the camel's nose. A nose once broken in this way,
it is difficult to find good holding ground for the tweak, and the
Mongols are therefore very economical of camels' noses.
As for ourselves, we each had two ponies to ride, and we varied
our manner of travelling by alternately sitting in our carts and
riding our ponies. We also walked a good deal with our guns, for
the pace of the camels was so slow that we could range at will over
the country, and still keep up with the caravan. The camel's pace is
slow and sure, the average of a day's march being two miles an hour.
The actual pace is of course quicker, but the frequent stoppages
to adjust loads, and from camels breaking loose, reduce it to two
miles per hour. Sitting in the cart is never very agreeable. The
track is not cut up with ruts like a road in China, and the jolting
is considerably less; but it is difficult to get a comfortable
posture without lying down, and sitting in the front of the vehicle
you are unpleasantly near the odour that exudes from the pores of
the camel's hide, to which it requires a long apprenticeship to get
accustomed. It is most uninteresting, besides, to sit for an hour or
two contemplating the ungainly form of the ugliest of all created
things, and to watch his soft spongy foot spreading itself out on
the sand, while you reckon that each of these four feet must move
700,000 times before your journey is accomplished.
Our ponies were tied behind the carts, and all went quietly except
my old one "Dolonor," who was sagacious enough to break his halter
regularly, and follow the caravan in his own way, which was to trot
a few hundred yards ahead and apply himself vigorously to the grass
until the caravan had passed some distance, when he would trot up
and repeat the operation. With all that he fell off in condition
more than any of the others.
Starting at sunset, as I have said, we proceeded all night without
stopping. It was a fine moonlight night, but an uncomfortable one
for us. Not knowing we were to travel all night, we were unprepared
for sleeping in our carts, and suffered a good deal from cold and
disturbed rest. With every precaution to close them in, the carts
are thoroughly well ventilated; but subsequent experience taught us
to roll up warmly, for most of our nights in the desert were spent
in our carts on the road.
At sunrise on the 28th my thermometer beside my bed stood at 43°.
At 8 o'clock we halted and pitched our tents. Our Mongols had a
tent for themselves, made of thin blue cotton stuff, and black
inside with the smoke of years. Their contract with us included
tent accommodation, as also fuel and water; but we congratulated
ourselves daily on being provided with our own commodious and
substantial bit of canvas. The Mongols make their fire in the tent
and lounge round it while the pot is boiling. Some of the smoke
manages to escape through the opening that answers the purpose of a
door, running from the apex of the tent to the ground in the shape
of a triangle. For the rest they don't seem to mind it, although it
is almost suffocating to those who are unaccustomed to it. I noticed
the eyes of the Mongols have mostly a bloodshot hard appearance,
often showing no white at all, attributable no doubt to the argol
smoke in which they pass so much of their time. The tents being
pitched, the next operation is to procure a supply of _argols_, or
more correctly _ar'ch'l_, which is dried cow or horse dung, and is
to be found all over the desert. So long as we were in a populous
part of the country, that is, if there were three Mongol yourts
within as many miles of us, we were saved the trouble of going
out to gather them, for our tents were seldom up for many minutes
before a woman would appear bearing a large basket of the precious
material. This seems to be the ordinary custom of the Mongols, and
is a part of the genuine hospitality they show to strangers. Our
halting-places were selected with a view to water. There is no
scarcity of water in the desert, but a stranger would be sorely
puzzled to find it, for there is nothing to mark the position of the
wells. The Mongols have an instinctive knowledge of the country, and
in order to encamp near good water they make their march an hour or
two longer or shorter as the case may be. When the caravan halts,
one of the Mongols is despatched on a camel with two water-buckets
to fetch water from the well, generally some distance from the line
of march. The buckets have a head to them with two holes in it
stopped with wooden plugs. The water is poured out of the larger
hole at the side, while the smaller one in the centre is opened to
admit the air, to enable the water to pass out freely. In selecting
a halting-place, the Mongols generally contrive to combine a good
bit of pasture with the vicinity of water, for this is naturally
of much importance to them, as the only feeding the animals get
is a few hours' grazing during the halt, and that only once in
twenty-four hours. Before the tent is set up the camels are unloaded
and set free to graze, the horses are taken to water, and then
hobbled and let loose. The camels are not supposed to want water,
and they very rarely get it. Their lips and mouth are peculiarly
adapted to quick feeding, the lips being long and very pliable,
and the incisor teeth projecting outwards. They gather up a good
mouthful of grass in a very short time, even where it is exceedingly
scant, and as their food requires little or no mastication, they are
enabled to take in a full daily supply of food in a few hours.
So far, Mongolia is a succession of plains and gentle undulations,
much resembling the long swell of the ocean, and here and there
the country is a little rough and hilly. The undulations stretch
across our track from east to west. The whole face of the country
looks like the sea. There is not a tree or any object to break the
monotony of the vast expanse, but occasionally the yourt or tent of
a Mongol family. The sunrise and sunset encourage the illusion, and
the camel has been aptly called the ship of the desert.
The sun was hot during the day, but the thermometer in the shade
only showed 73° at noon. Yesterday it was 71°. After dinner we went
out with our guns and bagged a few small birds of the curlew kind.
We also came across a flock of wild geese, but, as usual, they were
very wild. We had a chase after a herd of animals which have been
called wild goats. The Chinese call them _whang-yang_, or yellow
sheep: other tribes call them _dzeren_. The Mongols give them a name
of their own, _gurush_, and do not associate them with either sheep
or goats. They are really a kind of antelope (_Procapra gutturosa_),
the size of a fallow deer, and of a yellowish brown colour,
approaching to white about the legs. They are exceedingly swift and
very shy, and as the country is so flat it is almost impossible to
get within shot of them. They are usually found in large herds of
several hundreds. We subsequently tried to stalk them on horseback,
and did get some long random shots at them with a rifle, but to
manage this properly there ought to be three or four people well
mounted and with plenty of time. Our poor tired ponies were not fit
for such work, and we never stopped the caravan for the sake of
sport. Some of the Mongols do hunt the gurush, both on horseback and
on foot. I never witnessed any successes, but they must shoot them
sometimes, to pay for their powder and shot. They use a small-bored
rifle, which has a rest placed about six inches from the muzzle,
by which means they can lie on their face and take their aim, the
muzzle being raised well clear of the ground by means of the rest.
We had a long halt to-day, partly in consequence of a crack being
discovered in one of the camels' feet. This is an infirmity they are
subject to, and if sand and grit were allowed to get in, the animal
would become lame and useless. The remedy, which is always at hand,
is to sew a square patch of stout leather over the part affected,
which they do in the roughest cobbler fashion. With a flat needle
slightly curved they pierce the horny part of the sole, and fasten
the patch by means of leather thongs at each corner. This is only a
temporary measure, and when a camel is taken that way, he must soon
be turned out to grass. The Mongols have no trouble in getting at a
camel's feet. They first make him squat down, and then two of them
go at him with a sudden push and roll him over on his broadside, one
of them keeping his head down while the other operates on the foot.
The animal screams a good deal while he is being turned over, but
once down he resigns himself helplessly to his fate.
We did not get off till five o'clock in the afternoon. The night was
cloudy and no dew fell, and consequently it was not nearly so cold
as the night before. The difference in temperature between a cloudy
and a clear night is very marked in Mongolia.
We were now leaving the good pastures and the numerous herds of
cattle behind, and on the morning of the 29th August we found
ourselves getting into a very desert country with only a little
scrub grass, of which our poor ponies found it hard work to make a
meal. No horses or cattle were seen in this part, and the country
seemed only capable of supporting sheep and camels. About eleven
o'clock we halted, and encamped on almost bare sand. Not a single
"yourt" was in sight, and, for the first time, we had no visitors.
This must have been a relief to our Mongols, for they were compelled
by custom and their natural hospitality to receive and be civil to
all comers, and it was not easy for them to snatch even an hour's
sleep. This must have been a great privation, for their mode of
travelling all night precluded their getting any sleep at all,
except on the backs of their camels while on the march, and in their
tent during the six hours' halt in the day; and as that was broken
up by cooking and eating, pitching and striking tents, loading and
unloading camels, and other necessary matters, and the frequent and
protracted visits from neighbouring yourts, or travellers on the
road, our poor Tartars had often to go for days together with hardly
any sleep at all. But they never complained, and certainly were
never betrayed into any rudeness to their inconsiderate countrymen.
We started again at 4.30 in the afternoon, and continued through
gentle undulations, proceeding, as before, all through the night.
Before morning we passed some rocky places over low hills, which
sadly disturbed our sleep in the carts--in fact, our usual night's
rest, while on the move, was far from being uninterrupted or
comfortable, and it was only our fatigue and exposure to the air all
day that enabled us to sleep at all under such circumstances. The
rough hilly part was again succeeded by low undulations continually
unfolding before us, and which became painfully monotonous to the
eye. Distances are altogether deceptive, partly owing to the smooth,
unbroken surface of the country, and partly to the mirage which is
always dancing on the horizon, making small objects look large, and
sometimes lifting them up into the air and giving them a variety of
fantastic shapes.
About 11 o'clock on the 30th of August we halted, and went through
our usual process of cooking and eating. We began to find that one
meal a day did not suit our habits, and we soon learned to keep
out a certain quantity of biscuit and cold meat when we had it,
so that we could make a breakfast or a supper without stopping to
unload the camels. To these materials we added a handful of tea or
some chocolate-paste, and in the morning rode up on our ponies to
any yourt we happened to see that was smoking, and there made our
breakfast. In the evening we often managed to do the same, but it
frequently happened that we had no opportunity of doing this.
But I have not explained what a "yourt" is. It is simply the
habitation of a Mongol family--a tent, but of a more permanent
construction than the ordinary travelling tent. It consists of a
frame of light trellis work covered with thick felt, is circular
in form, with a conical shaped roof, but nearly flat. A hole in
the apex of the roof lets out the smoke from the argol fire which
burns all day in the middle of the tent. At night, when the fire is
out, and before the inmates retire to rest, the hole in the roof
is covered up. I did not measure the upright part of the wall of
the tent, but it is under five feet, and you cannot enter without
stooping. The tent is about fifteen feet in diameter. A piece of
felt hanging from the top forms a door. The Mongols sleep on mats
laid on the ground, and pack very close. They have no bedding, but
sleep generally in their clothes, merely loosing their girdles. In
addition to the family, I have frequently observed a number of young
kids brought into the tent for shelter on cold nights. When the
owner decides on moving to better pastures, his yourt is packed up
in a few hours and laid on the back of a camel, or, failing that,
two oxen answer the purpose. Although yourt is the name always
used by foreigners, I never heard it from a Mongol. They call it
"gi-rai," as distinguished from a travelling tent, which they call
"mai-chung."
Such are the dwellings of the Mongols, and so much are they attached
to them, that even where they live in settled communities, as in
Urga, where they have every facility for building wooden houses,
they still stick to their yourts, merely enclosing them with a rough
wooden paling. In the whole journey I did not meet with a single
instance of a Mongol living in a house, or in anything else than
a yourt or girai. The Mongols are very superstitious, and certain
rules of etiquette have to be observed in riding up to and entering
a yourt. One of these is that all whips must be left outside the
door, for to enter a yourt with a whip in the hand would be very
disrespectful to the residents. Huc explains this almost in the
words--"Am I a dog that you should cross my threshold with whips
to chastise me?" There is a right and a wrong way of approaching
a yourt also. Outside the door there are generally ropes lying on
the ground, held down by stakes for the purpose of tying up their
animals when they want to keep them together. There is a way of
getting over or round these ropes that I never learned, but, on
one occasion, the ignorant breach of the rule on our part excluded
us from the hospitality of the family. The head of the house was
outside his yourt when we rode up; we saluted him with the customary
_Mendo! Mendo!_ &c.; but the only response we got was a volley of
quiet abuse, in which our salutation was frequently, repeated in
ironical tones, as much as to say, "Mendo! Mendo! you come to my
tent with sugared words on your lips, and disregard the rules of
civility, which a child would be ashamed of doing. Mendo! Mendo!
If you do not know how to conduct yourselves like gentlemen, you
had better go about your business." So we turned and went away, not
in a rage, for we knew we had committed some grave offence against
propriety.
The furniture of a Mongol yourt is very simple. A built-up fireplace
in the middle of the floor is the only fixture. A large flat iron
pan for cooking, or, if the parties are luxurious, they may possess
two such utensils, and sport two fireplaces, by which means they
can boil their mutton and water for their tea at the same time. A
basin to hold milk, and a good large jug with a spout for the same
purpose, and for the convenience of boiling it at the fire while the
big pan is on, comprise all their kitchen and table service. Each
person carries his own wooden _ei-iga_, or cup, in his bosom, and,
so armed, is ready to partake of whatever is going anywhere; and
his small pocket-knife, by which he can cut up his quota of mutton.
A wooden box serves as a wardrobe for the whole family. No tables
or chairs are necessary, and I found no trace of a toilet service.
These, with a few mats on the ground for squatting on by day, and
sleeping on by night, comprise all the actual furniture of a yourt.
To-day, 30th August, we killed some sand-grouse. They were of the
same species as those found about Peking and Tientsin (the _Pallas_
sand-grouse), but were in much finer condition. They were fat, and
of such excellent flavour that they would be considered a delicacy
anywhere. All their crops which we dissected were full of small
black beetles, and the same was the case with the curlew we killed.
We fell in with a herd of gurush, and had some long shots; but we
were never fortunate enough to bag any of these animals.
In leaving the caravan there is always more or less danger of
getting lost. It has happened more than once to travellers. But
still there is a beaten track all the way through the desert, which
is distinctly marked in the grassy parts, and even in the sand it is
traceable. In winter it may be obliterated, but still I think, with
ordinary care, one ought not to lose himself in the desert.
At 6 p.m. we had returned to our caravan and again took the road.
It came on very windy at night, with some rain, and as the winds
were always from the north, and consequently in our teeth, we were
miserably cold and uncomfortable in the carts, so much so that we
ardently hoped that the Mongols, who were more exposed than we,
would propose a halt. We could not do so ourselves, for that would
have given the Mongols an excuse for all manner of delays in our
journey, but we would have been glad to consent had we been asked.
There was nothing for it, however, but to bear our burden patiently.
The few bottles of water and milk we invariably carried with us in
the carts were exhausted, and being much in want of something, we
knew not what, we ordered the Mongols to stop at the first yourt
they saw. This they did at 11 o'clock, and having turned out
an old woman we asked for water. They had none of that precious
beverage (and if they had it might have been bad), but we got some
boiled milk. I did not really want anything, but during the time
the Mongols were negotiating with the lady, our carts were turned
with the backs to the wind, and it seemed that I had never known
what enjoyment was till then. It lasted but a quarter of an hour.
The inexorable camels turned their noses to the wind again, and I
spent the night in manipulating blankets and contorting limbs, but
all to no purpose, for the merciless gale swept under and over and
through me. In the morning as soon as daylight came we got out of
our cold quarters and on to our ponies, stopped at a yourt where
we indulged in a cup of hot chocolate, and warmed ourselves at the
hospitable fire. In this yourt we found a record of the party who
had preceded us on the journey, dated 11th June. Our poor Mongols
and their camels were fatigued, and we did not object to an early
halt on the 31st August. We camped in a very desert place, scarcely
any grass at all; shot grouse for breakfast, and tried to believe
that we were comfortable. But we were not, for if we had no other
annoyance, the impossibility of keeping the blowing sand out of our
food was an evil hard to bear patiently. Everything, even the inside
of our boxes, was filled with sand. Every means was tried in vain to
prevent it from blowing under our tent. We walked about most of the
day and tried to shoot, but the guns were nearly blown out of our
hands, and that resource for the destitute had to be abandoned in
despair.
About 4 in the afternoon we started again, wind still blowing a
gale. The road became very rough, which was an additional reason for
a restless night. We had many stoppages besides, and much shouting
all through the night, which seriously disturbed our fitful naps,
and in the morning it was painfully evident that our poor camels
were breaking down. One of them had several times refused to go
on, and had eventually lain down with his load, and resisted all
persuasion to rise. He had to be unloaded and the extra weight
distributed among the stronger ones, at the risk of breaking them
down also. The truth is the camels were not in condition when we
started. We were too early for them. The practice of the Mongols is
to work their camels hard from the autumn to the spring. Before the
summer comes everything is taken out of them; their humps get empty
and lie flat on their backs; their feet get out of order, and they
have mostly bad sore backs. They are then taken off the road and
turned out to grass. About this time they shed their long hair and
become naked, and all through the hot weather the Mongol camel is
the most miserable object that can be imagined. In the early autumn
they have recruited their strength, their humps are firm and stand
erect, their backs are healed, and they begin the campaign fresh and
strong.
Our progress during the night was very slow, and towards morning
the road became sandy--in some places very heavy. The cart-camels
now suffered most, sweating and struggling with their work in a way
that was far from reassuring to us who had the greater part of the
journey still before us.
The whitened bones of camels are scattered all over the desert,
but in this place they were more numerous than ever. I believe the
camels always die on the road. They are worked till they drop, and
when one of a caravan fairly breaks down, there is no alternative
but to leave it to die on the sand.
Yourts are few and far between, and few cattle are to be seen;
there is barely grass enough to support sheep and camels. We pushed
on till 11 o'clock, and encamped at Mingan, where there were no
yourts actually in sight, but several within a few miles. There
was really little or nothing to eat, and our trusty steeds were
palpably suffering from their long stages and short commons. Serious
misgivings crossed our minds as to the probability of our ponies
carrying us much further, and we were concerned for them as well as
for ourselves, for they had done our work well so far, and we felt
kindly to them as the patient companions of our journey.