166 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



"chowdzea" — delicious little balls of meat mixed with 

 onions and seasoned with Chinese sauce. The Mongols 

 slept and ate and slept some more. We ate and slept 

 and read. Therefore, we were very happy. 



The weather during that summer in the forest was a 

 source of constant surprise to us. We had never seen 

 such rapid changes from brilliant sunshine to sheets of 

 rain. For an hour or two the sky might stretch above 

 us like a vast blue curtain flecked with tiny masses of 

 snow-white clouds. Suddenly, a leaden blanket would 

 spread itself over every inch of celestial space, while a 

 rush of rain and wind changed the forest to a black chaos 

 of writhing branches and dripping leaves. In fifteen 

 minutes the storm would sweep across the mountain 

 tops, and the sun would again flood our peaceful valley 

 with the golden light of early autumn. 



For autumn had already reached us even though the 

 season was only mid- August. It was like October in 

 New York, and we had nightly frosts which withered the 

 countless flowers and turned the leaves to red and gold. 

 In the morning, when I crossed the meadows to the 

 forest, the grass was white with frost and crackled be- 

 neath my feet like delicate threads of spun glass. My 

 moccasins were powdered with gleaming crystals of 

 frozen dew, but at the first touch of sun every twig and 

 leaf and blade of grass began to drip, as though from a 

 heavy rain. My feet and legs waist-high were soaked 

 in half an hour, and at the end of the morning hunt I 

 was as wet as though I had waded a dozen rivers. 



One cannot move on foot in northern Mongolia with- 



