112 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



mit we could see the herd fairly on our course, three 

 hundred yards away. 



Kublai Khan braced himself like a polo pony when 

 he felt the pressure of my knees, and I opened fire al- 

 most under his nose. At the crack of the rifle there was 

 a spurt of brown dust near the leading animal. "High 

 and to the left," shouted Yvette, and I held a little 

 lower for the second trial. The antelope dropped like a 

 piece of white paper, shot through the neck. I paced the 

 distance and found it to be three hundred and sixty- 

 seven yards. It seemed a very long shot then, but later 

 I found that almost none of my antelope were killed at 

 less than three hundred yards. 



As I came up to Kublai Khan with the dead animal, I 

 accidentally struck him on the flank with my rifle in 

 such a way that he was badly frightened. He galloped 

 off, and Yvette had a hard chase before he finally al- 

 lowed her to catch him. Had I been alone I should 

 probably have had a long walk to camp. 



It taught us never to hunt without a companion, if it 

 could possibly be avoided. If your horse runs away, you 

 may be left many miles from water, with rather serious 

 consequences. I think there is nothing which makes me 

 feel more helpless than to be alone on the plains without 

 a horse. Foi miles and miles there is only the rolling 

 grassland or the wide sweep of desert, with never a 

 house or tree to break the low horizon. It seems so 

 futile to walk, your own legs carry you so slowly and 

 such a pitifully short distance, in these vast spaces. 



To be left alone in a small boat on the open sea is 



