NEW TRAVELS ON AN OLD TRAIL 41 



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 al- 

 most 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 debonnaire old Mon- 

 gol 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, ex- 

 cept forward, and yet the Mongol managed to keep his 

 rolling old "ship of the desert" abreast of us for sev- 

 eral 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 (f sai-bei-nah" loped 

 slowly back to the caravan. 



The road was much better than it had been the pre- 

 vious 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 idle- 



