THE LURE OF THE PLAINS 105 



marmot country begins about twenty-five miles farther 

 north. 



The first hunting camp was eighty miles south of 

 Urga, after we had passed a succession of low hills and 

 reached what, in prehistoric times, was probably a great 

 lake basin. When our tents were pitched beside the 

 well they seemed pitifully small in the vastness of the 

 plain. The land rolled in placid waves to the far hori- 

 zon on every hand. It was like a calm sea which is dis- 

 turbed only by the lazy progress of the ocean swell. 

 Two yurts, like the sails of hull-down ships, showed 

 black against the sky-rim where it met the earth. The 

 plain itself seemed at first as flat as a table, for the 

 swells merged indistinguishably into a level whole. It 

 was only when approaching horsemen dipped for a little 

 out of sight and the depressions swallowed them up that 

 we realized the unevenness of the land. 



Camp was hardly made before our Mongol neighbors 

 began to pay their formal calls. A picturesque fellow, 

 blazing with color, would dash up to our tent at a full 

 gallop, slide off and hobble his pony almost in a single 

 motion. With a ff sai bina' of greeting he would squat 

 in the door, produce his bottle of snuff and offer us a 

 pinch. There was a quiet dignity about these plains 

 dwellers which was wonderfully appealing. They were 

 seldom unduly curious, and when we indicated that the 

 visit was at an end, they left at once. 



Sometimes they brought bowls of curded milk, or 

 great lumps of cheese as presents, and in return we gave 

 cigarettes or now and then a cake of soap. Having been 



