118 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



I slipped off Kublai Khan's back and put up the 

 glasses. Certainly there were animals, but I thought 

 they must be sheep or ponies. Hundreds were in sight, 

 feeding in one vast herd and in many smaller groups. 

 Then I remembered that the nearest well was twenty 

 miles away ; therefore they could not be horses. I looked 

 again and knew they must be antelope not in hun- 

 dreds, but in thousands. 



Mr. Larsen in Urga had told us of herds like this, but 

 we had never hoped to see one. Yet there before us, 

 as far as the eye could reach, was a yellow mass of mov- 

 ing forms. In a moment Yvette and I had left the 

 carts. There was no possibility of concealment, and our 

 only chance was to run the herd. When we were per- 

 haps half a mile away the nearest animals threw up their 

 heads and began to stamp and run about, only to stop 

 again and stare at us. We kept on very slowly, edging 

 nearer every moment. Suddenly they decided that we 

 were really dangerous, and the herd strung out like a 

 regiment of yellow-coated soldiers. 



Kublai Khan had seen the antelope almost as soon as 

 we left the carts, and although he had already traveled 

 forty miles that day, was nervously champing the bit 

 with head up and ears erect. When at last I gave him the 

 word, he gathered himself for one terrific spring; down 

 went his head and he dashed forward with every ounce 

 of strength behind his flying legs. His run was the 

 long, smooth stride of a thoroughbred, and it sent the 

 blood surging through my veins in a wild thrill of ex- 

 hilaration. Once only I glanced back at Yvette. She 



