ENTERING THE LAND OF MYSTERY 7 



had nothing to do but collect the remains of my shat- 

 tered dream-castles as we bounced over the ruts and 

 stones. It was a rude awakening, and I felt half 

 ashamed to admit to myself as the miles sped by that 

 the springy seat was more comfortable than the saddle 

 on my Mongol pony. 



But that night when I strolled about the mission 

 courtyard, under the spell of the starry, desert sky, I 

 drifted back again in thought to the glorious days of 

 Kublai Khan. My heart was hot with resentment that 

 this thing had come. I realized then that, for better or 

 for worse, the sanctity of the desert was gone forever. 

 Camels will still plod their silent way across the age-old 

 plains, but the mystery is lost. The secrets which were 

 yielded up to but a chosen few are open now to all, and 

 the world and his wife will speed their noisy course across 

 the miles of rolling prairie, hearing nothing, feeling 

 nothing, knowing nothing of that resistless desert charm 

 which led men out into the Great Unknown. 



At daylight we packed the cars. Bed-rolls and cans 

 of gasoline were tied on the running boards and every 

 corner was filled with food. Our rifles were ready for 

 use, however, for Coltman had promised a kind of shoot- 

 ing such as I had never seen before. The stories he told 

 of wild rides in the car after strings of antelope which 

 traveled at fifty or sixty miles an hour had left me mildly 

 skeptical. But then, you know, I had never seen a Mon- 

 golian antelope run. 



For twenty or thirty miles after leaving Hei-ma-hou 

 we bounced along over a road which would have been 



