go ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



him half over, but he righted himself and ran to his very 

 limit. The bullets spattering all about kept him at it 

 for six hundred yards. He put up a desert hare on the 

 way, but that hare didn't have a chance with the ante- 

 lope. It reminded me of the story of the negro who had 

 seen a ghost. He ran until he dropped beside the road, 

 but the ghost was right beside him. "Well/' said the 

 ghost, "that was some race we had." "Yes," answered 

 the negro, "but it ain't nothin' to what we're goin' to 

 have soon's ever I git my breath. And then," said 

 the negro, "we ran agin. And I come to a rabbit leggin' 

 it up the road, and I said, 'Git out of the way, rabbit, 

 and let some one run what can run!' " The last we saw 

 of the antelope was a cloud of yellow dust disappearing 

 over a low rise. 



The excitement of the chase had been an excellent 

 preparation for the hard work which awaited us not far 

 ahead. The going had been getting heavier with every 

 mile, and at last we reached a long stretch of sandy road 

 which the motors could not pull through. With every 

 one except the driver out of the car, and the engine rac- 

 ing, we pushed and lifted, gaining a few feet each time, 

 until the shifting sand was passed. It meant two hours 

 of violent strain, and we were well-nigh exhausted; a 

 few miles farther, however, it had all to be done again. 

 Where the ground was hard, there was such a chaos of 

 ruts and holes that our arms were almost wrenched from 

 their sockets by the twisting wheels. 



This area more nearly approaches a desert than any 

 other part of the road to Urga. The soil is mainly 



