A FALSE ALARM. 6i 



Leaving the little town of Sung-shan (also de- 

 stroyed by Dungans) on our left, we directed our 

 march across an uneven steppe which lay imme- 

 diately beyond the border range, between it and 

 other mountains that rose in front of us. 



We had no further cause for trouble about pastu- 

 rage or water. Water poured from every cleft in 

 the rocks, and the profusion of rich grass reminded 

 us of our meadows at home. Here we saw dzerens 

 (steppe antelopes), and a small herd of horses run 

 wild, which had been let loose at the time of the in- 

 surrection. They were so shy that we tried in vain 

 to capture one. 



Traces of the ravages committed by the insur- 

 gents now met us at every step. The numerous 

 villages were all in ruins, human skulls littered the 

 ground, and not a soul was to be seen. Our 

 companions showed symptoms of the greatest 

 cowardice ; they refused to make a fire at night, 

 lighted their matchlocks, and begged us to go in 

 front : all their fears, however, were dissipated in the 

 most ludicrous way. 



In the valley of the Chagrin-gol, the lamas espied 

 some men running away ; taking them for Dungans, 

 and overjoyed at the small number of the enemy, 

 they opened fire, although the fugitives were a long 

 way off. My companion and I hastened to the scene 

 of action, imagining that an attack had actually been 

 made, but when we saw how matters stood we re- 

 mained as spectators. The lamas continued firing 

 although the enemy were by this time out of sight. 



