90 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



visitors. She was rather a pretty little thing and so 

 small — just a little older than my own baby in Peking 

 — that I wanted to play with her. She was shy at first, 

 but when I held out a picture advertisement from a 

 package of cigarettes she gradually edged nearer, en- 

 couraged by her mother. Soon she was leaning on my 

 knee. Then without taking her black eyes from my face, 

 she solemnly put one finger in her mouth and jerked it 

 out with a loud 'pop,' much to her mother's gratifica- 

 tion. But when she decided to crawl up into my lap, my 

 interest began to wane, for she exuded such a concen- 

 trated 'essence of Mongol' and rancid mutton fat that 

 I was almost sufiFocated. 



"Our hostess was busy stirring a thick, white soup in 

 a huge caldron, and by the time the carts arrived every 

 one was dipping in with their wooden bowls. We 

 begged to be excused, since we had already had some 

 experience with Mongol soup. 



"The yurt really was not a bad place when we be- 

 came accustomed to the bitter smoke and the combina- 

 tion of native odors. There were two couches, about 

 six inches from the ground, covered with sheepskins and 

 furs. Opposite the door stood a chest — rather a nice 

 one — on top of which was a tiny god with a candle burn- 

 ing before it, and a photograph of the Hutukhtu." 



We had dinner in the yiirt, and the boys slept there 

 while we used our Mongol tent. There was no difficulty 

 in erecting it even in the wind and rain, but it would 

 have been impossible to have put up the American wall 



