CHAPTER XVIII. 

 In Chuguchak, Western Mongolia. 



The country I was now marching through, and which con- 

 tinues up to Chuguchak, several days' journey to the north, 

 is a most desolate land, nothing but low rocky hills, without a 

 sign of bush or grass, or a stick to light a fire. 



I was much impressed with the dreariness and entire absence 

 of life here, not a bird, not an animal, nothing to temper the 

 sensation of loneliness and utter desolation. The silence of these 

 vast solitudes is indeed oppressive, and in November, when the 

 land lies locked in the grip of an inexorable winter, the feeling 

 of loneliness is accentuated. One only occasionally meets with 

 auls of the nomad tribesmen, who during the winter are more or 

 less stationary, preferring then to rem.ain settled rather than 

 endure the hardship and privation entailed in moving about. 



The days were rapidly closing in now, and the moment the 

 sun disappeared beneath the horizon the temperature would go 

 down with a run, whilst frequently at dusk the bitter cold wind, 

 instead of subsiding, would continue with unabated vigour 

 throughout the night. 



It is indeed a bleak and inhospitable land, and during 

 November and December, when I was marching through it, a 

 snow-covered wilderness, across which the wind shrieks and 

 howls as it only can on the steppes of Central Asia. 



There were said to be no argali here, and, judging from the 

 appearance of the country, it certainly looked anything but a 

 happy hunting ground. 



I was obliged to halt for a day on November 29th as I could 

 still obtain no news of Rasul, and could not imagine where he 



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