60 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



all the baggage which was tied to the running boards. 

 Spreading our fur sleeping bags upon the sand, we 

 pushed and lifted the automobile to firm ground after 

 an hour of strenuous work. Hardly had we started 

 back to the road, when Charles suddenly clapped both 

 hands to his face yelling, "My Lord, I'm burning up. 

 What is it? I'm all on fire." 



Mrs. Coltman pulled his hands away, revealing his 

 face covered with blotches and rising blisters. At the 

 same moment Yvette and I felt a shower of liquid fire 

 stinging our hands and necks. We leaped out of the 

 car just as another blast swept back upon us. Then 

 Charles shouted, "I know. It's the Delco plant," and 

 dived toward the front mud guard. Sure enough, the 

 cover had been displaced from one of the batteries, and 

 little pools of sulphuric acid had formed on the leather 

 casings. The wind was blowing half a gale, and each 

 gust showered us with drops of colorless liquid which 

 bit like tiny, living coals. 



In less than ten seconds I had slashed the ropes and 

 the batteries were lying on the ground, but the acid 

 had already done its work most thoroughly. The duffle 

 sacks containing all our field clothes had received a lib- 

 eral dose, and during the summer Yvette was kept busy 

 patching shirts and trousers. I never would have 

 believed that a little acid could go so far. Even gar- 

 ments in the very center of the sacks would suddenly 

 disintegrate when we put them on, and the Hutukhtu 

 and his electric plant were "blessed" many times before 

 we left Mongolia. 



