154 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



which buzzed away like brown bullets to the shelter of 

 the trees. We crossed a flat depression and rested for 

 a moment on a rounded hilltop. Below us a new valley- 

 sloped downward, bathed in sunshine. Tserin Dorchy 

 wandered slowly to the right while I studied the edge 

 of a marsh with my glasses. 



Suddenly I heard the muffled beat of hoofs. Jerking 

 the glasses from my eyes I saw a huge roebuck, crowned 

 with a splendid pair of antlers, bound into view not 

 thirty feet away. For the fraction of a second he 

 stopped, with his head thrown back, then dashed along 

 the hillside. That instant of hesitation gave me just 

 time to seize my rifle, catch a glimpse of the yellow-red 

 body through the rear sight, and fire as he disappeared. 

 Leaping to my feet, I saw four slender legs waving in 

 the air. The bullet had struck him in the shoulder and 

 he was down for good. 



My heart pounded with exultation as I lifted his mag- 

 nificent head. He was the finest buck I had ever seen 

 and I gloated over his body as a miser handles his gold. 

 And gold, shining in the sunlight, was never more beau- 

 tiful than his spotless summer coat. 



Right where he lay upon the hillside, amid a veritable 

 garden of bluebells, daisies, and yellow roses, was the 

 setting for the group we wished to prepare in the Ameri- 

 can Museum of Natural History. He would be its cen- 

 tral figure for his peer could not be found in all Mon- 

 golia. 



As I stood there in the brilliant sunlight, mentally 

 planning the group, I thought how fortunate I was to 



