268 ACROSS MONGOLIAN PLAINS 



surface with a leafy branch, while the other two crouched 

 on the bowlders in midstream. Suddenly, one of the 

 boys plimged his head and arms into the water and 

 emerged with a beautiful speckled trout clutched tightly 

 in both hands. He had seen the fish swim beneath the 

 rock where it was cornered and had caught it before it 

 could escape. 



For an hour the two boys sat like kingfishers, abso- 

 lutely motionless except when they dived into the water. 

 Of course, they often missed ; but when we were ready 

 to go home they had eight beautiful trout, several of 

 them weighing as much as two pounds. The stream was 

 full of fish, and we would have given worlds for a rod 

 and flies. 



Lii baked a loaf of com bread in his curious little 

 oven made from a Standard Oil tin, and we found a 

 jar of honey in our stores. Brook trout fried in deep 

 bacon fat, regular "southern style" corn bread and 

 honey, apple pie, coffee, and cigarettes — ^the "hardships 

 of camping in the Orient!" 



When we had been in camp a week we awoke one 

 morning to find a heavy cloud of smoke drifting up the 

 valley. Evidently a tremendous fire was raging, and 

 Smith and I set out at once on a tour of investigation. 

 A mile down the valley we saw the whole mountain side 

 ablaze. It was a beautiful sight, I admit, but the de- 

 struction of that magnificent forest appalled us. For- 

 tunately, the wind was blowing strongly from the east, 

 and there was no danger that the fire might sweep north- 

 ward in the direction of our camp. As we emerged into 



