Chapter VI: After Argali and Wapiti

Early next morning, the Mongol hunter having been found, and his services secured, Warrington and I set out for the mountains. Crossing the five miles of plain, we reached the mouth of a deep valley, where, in a small village, we found our guide waiting for us.

Here we left our ponies, and, crossing the boulder-strewn valley bottom, began a stiff climb, which finally brought us to the top of a high ridge. From this point our view extended over a wide panorama of rugged mountains and deep and precipitous valleys and ravines. These we scanned carefully with field-glasses, but finding nothing, descended into one of the valleys, and began to work up it.

Almost at once we found ourselves in game country, for we had not gone far before we spied a sheep watching us from the crest of a side ridge. He did not seem to mind our presence, so that we were able to get a shot at him. Unfortunately the size of the animal misled us in estimating the distance, so that our bullets fell short. With a few bounds he was up the side of the hill and away. Further up the valley three magnificent rams, which had been disturbed by some woodcutters, came bounding down a small ravine, but, catching sight of us, they turned abruptly, and with incredible speed tore diagonally across the steep mountain side. Gaining the valley bottom, they broke away in the direction we had just come, and were soon out of sight round a bend. A shot or two at these also failed to find a mark.

Somewhat discouraged by our poor shooting, we turned up a side ravine, and after a long, gradual ascent, came out upon some grassy uplands. As we skirted the edge of these, the quick eye of the Mongol detected three rams grazing upon a patch of green grass at the bottom of a valley. This was what we wanted, so ducking down to keep out of sight, we crept away from the crest of the ridge, and made a long detour. On our way we put up a herd of six or eight ewes, which scampered off, stopping every now and then to gaze back at us. At last we reached a clump of rocks, which I had marked as being directly above the grazing rams. Cautiously peeping over, I was disappointed to find the latter had gone, but, on looking up, I saw all three grazing on the opposite slope, about four hundred yards away, as I estimated. I beckoned to Warrington to creep up beside me: we both took careful aim and fired. To our chagrin the bullets again fell far short of the sheep, which at once made off with long bounds. Again and again we fired, but missed hopelessly every time. They crossed a low ridge into a second ravine, presently appearing again, slowly climbing a distant slope. Three other rams emerged from the same ravine, and broke westward for the highest ground.

PLATE VIII.

THE AUTHOR AND HIS BIG RAM, PHOTOGRAPHED WHERE IT FELL.

_Opposite p. 114._]
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This was indeed disappointing. So clear was the atmosphere that we could see every detail of those rams as they had stood there on the hillside, in spite of the fact that they must have been from six to eight hundred yards distant. Besides, not having seen an argali at close quarters, we did not realize their immense size, and so judged them to be much nearer than they were. We saw no more sheep that day, though we both had a shot at a large wolf.

On our way back down the crest of a long ridge we suddenly came upon two roe-deer, both of which I bagged. At last, tired and hungry, but full of enthusiasm, we returned to our quarters in K’uei-hua-ch’êng, where we recounted our adventures to our companions.

The heavy day’s climbing on top of our long journey so tired us that we did not feel inclined to go after sheep next day, but spent the time overhauling tents and other gear, with a view to making a camp right in the mountains, so saving the daily ride from town to the hunting grounds and back.

The following morning saw us once more heading for the mountains, this time with two tents, stores, collecting outfit, beds and bedding, together with other camping requisites, loaded upon five camels. The latter, being unable to climb the first ridge, were obliged to make a considerable detour, and follow up from the plain the course of the valley, in which we intended to camp. We left them to take this route, while we crossed the ridge in order to get in a bit of shooting.

This time, as there were four of us, we split up into two parties, one following up the valley, the other climbing the side and working along the top of the ridge. After having gone about half a mile those on the ridge put up a small herd of sheep, which broke back towards the mouth of the valley. They crossed it about five hundred yards below me. With the sun full in my eyes, I had difficulty in making them out, but let fly with my rifle, apparently doing no damage. Turning to follow them, I arrived at the spot where the herd had crossed the valley, and hunted about to pick up the trail. To my surprise I found a spot of blood. At this moment Schröder appeared at the end of the spur above me, so waving to him to come down, I began following up the tracks of the wounded sheep.

Presently he joined me, and together we spent an hour or more working out the somewhat difficult trail. It led us up a steep and rugged mountain side, across the divide and down the face of a precipice. Sometimes we actually could not climb down the places taken by the wounded sheep at a bound, and were forced to find easier paths. At last the blood in the trail increased. There were several big splotches, showing where the animal had stood to rest, or look back along the trail. Presently, as we rounded a bend, a large ewe sprang up from a sheltered nook, and with only three sound legs began to climb upwards with wonderful agility. Our rifles rang out, and the sheep came rolling down the precipitous slope, fetching up at the bottom of a ravine a hundred feet below us. Naturally, I was greatly disappointed at its being a ewe. Owing to the distance, and the fact that I had the afternoon sun full in my eyes when I fired, I could not make out clearly of what the herd had consisted. However, for my collection this ewe was more valuable than a ram, owing to the females of the genus _Ovis_ showing more plainly the cranial characteristics of the species, so I could not complain. It was more than either Schröder or I could do to carry the sheep, but after gutting it we tied the carcase upon the native hunter’s back, who being more accustomed to the heavy gradients, managed to pack it to camp. We estimated the weight of the ewe at about 200 lb.

By the time we reached the site chosen for camp the tents were up and a delicious cup of tea awaited us. Dinner followed very shortly, and after setting a line of traps for small quadrupeds we turned in.

The following day we continued to hunt, but saw only two old rams all day. Two young sheep (two-year-olds), a ram and an ewe were shot by two of the party. These also came in handy for specimens, though their coats were in very poor condition. I bagged another roe-deer late in the afternoon.

The third day was more propitious, at least for one member of the party, who was fortunate enough to secure a ram with a fine pair of horns. The lucky man was Brodie, who, with Warrington, was working the ridges to the south of our camp, while Schröder and I tried the higher country further west. They had sighted and followed for a considerable distance two old rams, but had at last given up the chase as hopeless, and were sitting on a ridge watching their quarry away across a wide valley. Suddenly the rams turned back and came full speed towards the ridge upon which sat the hunters. There was a small ravine on either side of this ridge. The rams entered the one on the right, and, having arrived opposite the two crouching men, stopped and stared back along the path they had come. Both sportsmen fired, but the rams crossed the next ridge, seemingly unhurt. Following them up, however, Warrington, being younger, lighter and more agile than his companion, outstripped him, and came upon one of the rams lying in the ravine bottom. He hurried up to the prostrate animal, which suddenly jumped up, and, realizing that he was cornered, lowered his ponderous head and charged. Visions of being crushed between that mass of horn and the solid rock behind him crossed the lad’s mind, but he had the sense to fire low at the oncoming and infuriated ram. His bullet struck the brute in the chest and dropped him dead.

We now had one more day to spare, and I had not yet secured my head. I had picked up two skulls with fine pairs of horns, one of which, measuring 19½ inches in circumference at the base, constitutes a record.

I badly wanted a head for myself, however, and determined that I would get one somehow that day. I was convinced that the grassy upland was the most likely spot for me to get my sheep, so, accompanied by Schröder, I proceeded up the valley from our camp. Brodie and Warrington were also heading for the same district, but by a different route. Arriving upon the grassy heights we sat down to rest and look round. Presently Schröder spotted three rams on an adjacent ridge. I got out my glasses and made out that the leader had a fine pair of horns. The rams, which had not seen us, moved slowly over the ridge. After a hurried consultation, it was decided that I should go down the valley, skirt the end of the ridge over which the rams had disappeared, and work up the next ravine or valley. Meanwhile Schröder and the other two, whom we could see approaching over the rolling uplands, would station themselves in suitable positions to intercept the flight of the rams when I had disturbed them. I was soon at the bottom of the valley, and having reached the end of the ridge in question, decided to climb up it, as in this way I could keep more ground in view. At last as I neared the top I came upon a wide ravine, or “draw,” shaped like an amphitheatre, and communicating with the main valley by means of a narrow outlet. It was this draw which the three rams must have entered on crossing the ridge. I stopped to get my breath, at the same time carefully scanning the slopes for any signs of the sheep. Not seeing any, I was about to continue up the ridge, when, glancing at the narrow opening, I was surprised to see the three rams come quietly sauntering up a grasscutter’s path. There was the leader with the fine pair of horns, followed closely by a young ram, whose horns had only attained a semicircle. The third ram, which in size was not far short of the leader, showed more independence and lagged in the rear, nibbling at tufts of grass along the path.

All these details I took in as I slowly raised my rifle. The leader must have caught the sun-flash on my rifle-barrel, for he suddenly looked straight up at me. It was now or never, so keeping the sights low I pressed the trigger. The leader collapsed, kicked once or twice and lay still. I tried a second hurried shot at the third ram, as he turned and dashed out of the ravine, but failed to hit him. Scarcely believing my eyes, I carefully descended towards the ram, keeping a sharp look-out, with my rifle ready in case he should get up and start off, as so often happens with big game. My precautions were unnecessary, however, as he was stone dead. My bullet had taken him in the spine, just above the shoulder, where it had lodged. A hot wave passed down my back as I realized how nearly I had missed him. After taking some photographs, the hunter and I skinned the ram, which, on measurements being taken, was found to be 45¾ inches at the shoulder, and 55½ inches round the chest. The horns at their base had a circumference of 18½ inches, and were 43 inches in length, having one complete turn.

The following day, after a fruitless chase after a couple of gorals, we struck camp and returned to K’uei-hua-ch’êng. My traps yielded nothing whatsoever during our stay in the sheep country, from which it may be inferred that that country is very poor in mammals. Indeed, besides the sheep, the roe-deer, a few gorals and the wolf, the only mammals we saw were one or two chipmunks. Birds also were very scarce; eagles, kites, crows, larks and a few partridges and chukars were all we saw. The scarcity of animal life in this district is doubtless due to the corresponding lack of vegetation, there being only very little scrub and no timber, either large or small.

WAPITI

Our next objective was a point some thirty miles west of the sheep country, where, the natives said, there were plenty of wapiti, and even tigers. Thus, after a day or two spent in K’uei-hua-ch’êng we once more left that town, taking a westerly direction. We had the five camels again, this time augmented by a cart, as we had further to go and were taking more stuff.

We followed the main road for seventy li (about 20 miles), passing many farms and one or two small villages on the way, and finally arrived at Pi-ch’ien-ch’i, a large market village. There we put up for the night in a fairly good inn.

Next day it was raining when we rose, and we were delayed till noon, when we once more set out, this time in a more northerly direction. The poor camels had a terrible time, as they slipped and floundered about in the mud. They cried piteously whenever they came to a bad part, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that they were induced to proceed at all. Presently we reached the mountains, and entering a deep and winding valley followed it up for about ten miles, when, as darkness was descending, we were obliged to put up for the night at a small village named Wu-lan-pan.

Continuing up the valley the following day, we crossed the divide at its head, and entered a second, much larger valley, up which we travelled as far as a tiny hamlet called Ssŭ-he-tien, where we had lunch. Leaving this place, we entered a deep side ravine, the winding boulder-strewn course of which we followed as far as the cart could go. At this point we stopped and pitched camp.

We were now in the very heart of a region of high, rugged and precipitous mountains, the deep gorges and ravines of which were filled with small timber. This extended up the steep slopes in many places, while away down in the shadowy ravine bottoms sparkling brooks, now only partially ice-bound, gurgled and plashed over the rounded pebbles and polished boulders. Here and there deep pools temptingly invited a plunge, but the little fringe of ice acted as a gentle reminder of the still frigid temperature. In these pools shoals of small fish might be seen darting in and out of the dark caves beneath the overhanging rocks. On the mountain sides the tender green of the sprouting poplars and hazels contrasted strangely with the deep colour of a few scattered pines, while the mountain peach and wild apricot blossomed pink and white, lending a soft beauty to the landscape. Above all the jagged needle-like peaks of granite towered away into the azure blue of the cloudless sky, like the enchanted castles of our childhood’s fairy-tales.

Having arranged camp to our satisfaction, we immediately set out in search of game wherewith to fill our larder, as we had brought no meat with us. We had climbed the opposite slope but halfway, when three roe-deer were put up. Our rifles rang out, but the deer continued bounding through the bushes. One, however, broke away from the others and came towards us. Schröder and I fired simultaneously and the deer rolled over. He turned out to be a young buck, and there were two wounds in the hindquarters. We returned to camp feeling that there were several days’ good sport ahead of us.

That night as we lay in bed we heard many strange noises. The far-away hoot of the great eagle owl was wafted to us on the night air; the night jar uttered his peculiar knocking call, which seemed to come from everywhere and yet from nowhere in particular; down by the stream the resonant croak of the mountain frog rose from the water’s edge; but pleasantest of all to our ears was the barking of a roe-deer close on the slope behind our tent.

We were up before daybreak the following morning, and after a hasty breakfast started up the valley in search of wapiti. A long and strenuous climb brought us to the top of a high ridge between two peaks. Here the winter snows still lay deep on the shady side, and we could see the large fresh tracks of our quarry, and mark the spots where they had bedded down the day before. We climbed almost to the summit of one of the peaks, but finding no further tracks descended into a valley, along which we worked. Here I picked up a good fresh trail, and with Warrington keeping close behind me, followed it along the steep slopes. It led us across small ravines, round the shoulders of sharp ridges, over rocky screes, and through dense patches of hazel-scrub, but the trail grew ever fresher. At last as we topped one of the knife-like ridges, the graceful form of a large deer sprang from the scrub below us, and with long, easy bounds went sailing like thistledown across a wide ravine. Vainly we discharged our rifles again and again. Once the deer staggered, but recovering continued, till just as he reached and began to climb the opposite ridge, a shot from Warrington’s rifle brought him to his knees. For a bit he struggled madly to continue, but presently lay quiet in some tall grass. Sending Warrington across to knife, if necessary, the wounded animal, I took up a commanding position upon the ridge, and prepared to intercept the deer if he attempted to escape. Just as my companion reached the spot where our quarry lay, the latter sprang up and began to scramble down the hill. Not realizing the size of the animal, I called to Warrington to grab him. He managed to secure one hind leg, and for some minutes those of us who were watching, witnessed a desperate struggle between a not over big lad and a young wapiti stag the size of a mule. Hanging on like grim death, Warrington was battered about, and jerked backwards and forwards as the struggling deer kicked madly to free himself. He dragged his captor up and down the slope. Away above me I could hear Schröder’s voice, “Stay with it, Freddie! Stay with it.” Stay with it he did, and when the deer’s struggles ceased for a moment, he let go the leg hold and planted himself firmly upon the animal’s head. Scarcely was he seated, however, when the stag with a terrific heave sent him rolling head over heels down the slope. At this moment two beaters arrived on the scene. One of these incautiously tried to grasp the deer’s hind leg, and received a kick in the pit of the stomach that ripped open his wadded clothes and sent him rolling to join Warrington at the bottom of the ravine. At last, however, the plucky creature was overcome by numbers and received the _coup de grâce_. On examination, we found that there were two wounds in the animal, so divided the honours, though Warrington’s last shot brought it down.

The two beaters carried the carcase back to camp, while we made the circuit of one of the high peaks in search of more game. Nothing more was seen, however, except a few roe-deer, one of which I shot.

Schröder and Brodie, after witnessing the finishing of our wapiti, continued up over the top of the peak, and descended the other side into some favourable looking country. Here they caught sight of five wapiti feeding away down in a valley, and by dint of careful stalking managed to bag two. These were larger and older than the one we had already secured, but in no way remarkable. Unfortunately it was the wrong season for horns, in spite of the fact that the Chinese had told us that we might expect to find good heads. This being the case we decided to hunt no more wapiti, hoping some day to revisit the same country at a more propitious season.[3]

We now turned our attention to the gorals, which from time to time had been seen. Schröder especially wanted to get one, and spent all his remaining time climbing difficult peaks in search of these elusive, chamois-like animals.

On the third day of our visit to this district Warrington and I determined to work a section of precipitous country, hitherto unexplored by any of the party. We climbed up a long, rocky ridge—one of a series which radiated from a massive peak to the north of our camp. As we neared this peak, Warrington caught sight of a good-sized goral, which almost immediately vanished in a labyrinth of rocks. A difficult climb up the face of a perpendicular cliff brought us to a point above the rocks, amongst which we supposed the goat to be hiding. By throwing rocks and shouting we managed to drive out a fine roebuck, but there were no signs of the animal we were after. I gradually reached a point at the base of the peak, which rose above me in a precipitous wall of granite for six or seven hundred feet. Suddenly a shower of rocks scattering round me told us that the goral was somewhere on that rugged cliff, but Warrington, who was a hundred yards or so out from the base, could not make out where he was. We determined therefore to work round the back of the peak in the hope of coming upon our quarry somewhere near the summit.

A long stiff climb brought us out upon the crest of the peak whence we could command a good view of the draws and ravines below us. Again we began hurling rocks and shouting, working gradually away from the peak down a high ridge to the east. Suddenly the goral darted out from the base of a cliff below us, and crossing the draw, hid up under a second low cliff on the opposite side. He was much too far away for a shot, so we decided to get nearer. Accordingly Warrington climbed down to a position exactly opposite the hiding goral, while I made a big detour and came up from behind to the top of the cliff above the animal. Just as I reached this point Warrington’s rifle rang out, I could hear something moving in the bushes below me, but could see nothing. My companion tried to direct my gaze to the right spot, but the hazel-scrub was too thick for either of us to see our quarry. Presently with a rush the goral broke cover and went scurrying down the ravine. We both fired, but missed. Hurrying down the mountain side, I succeeded in heading him off, as he was trying to get back to the high ground. Again and again he doubled in an attempt to get past me, while every time I got a chance I fired. The game was too strenuous, and at last I sat down on a spur of rock to recover my breath, with the goral somewhere in a ravine below me. The wily animal stole up from the ravine under cover of rocks and bushes, and actually passed within a few feet of me. As soon as he was past me he must have started running, for I heard a slight noise, and looking round, saw him scampering off up the ridge. Using a rock on which to rest my rifle, I tried several shots, but it was no use. The terrible strain I had undergone, tearing back and forth over the rough mountain side to keep the active animal from getting back amongst the peaks, had used me up and I could not steady my aim, and to my unspeakable chagrin and disappointment the goral escaped over the crest of the ridge. He passed Warrington and the beaters unobserved, and was well on his way to some high peaks behind the one where we had first surprised him, when he nearly fell foul of Schröder and Brodie. These two, with a couple of beaters, had been gradually working round towards us, when, hearing our shots, they sat down to see if any game would be driven their way. Presently they saw our goral come trotting along, heading straight for them. Just as he was within easy range one of the beaters coughed. Like a flash the active animal, rendered doubly so by his recent experiences with us, dodged behind some rocks. When next they saw him he was out of range climbing a distant ridge.

The following day I bagged a roe-deer with a very fine pair of horns. This set the others trying to secure good roe-deer heads. Brodie next bagged a large buck, whose horns, however, were in no way exceptional. The last day of our stay in this region Warrington succeeded in getting a pair of horns, which rivalled mine in length, but were not so well shaped. No one saw another goral, and finally we were forced to return to K’uei-hua-ch’êng without having secured one.

During our stay in these mountains I had my traps out, and secured a vole or two, together with some mice and rats. Nothing new was caught.

Though there was no large timber in this district, there was no lack of vegetation. Amongst other things we found a very delicious wild leek, which served well as a table dish. Wild rhubarb was also very plentiful, both here and in the mountains nearer K’uei-hua-ch’êng. We found this very palatable, and it served to eke out our fast diminishing store of canned fruit.

On June 1 we commenced our return journey to Kalgan. As our two companions, Schröder and Brodie, were not quite ready to leave, Warrington and I travelled alone. I decided to take the southern route (i.e. the route which passes south of the T’ai Hai).

Leaving K’uei-hua-ch’êng we travelled first due south and then south-west for seventy li, putting up at a village named Hsia-pu-na on the plain. Here, we were surprised to learn, there were antelopes in the vicinity. We decided to stay for a day and try our luck with them.

Early the following morning we rode out, accompanied by a guide. We had not gone far when we suddenly came upon an antelope, which stood watching us at no great distance. Before we could get our rifles ready, however, he was off. A rapid shot only sent him flying like the wind. He seemed to stretch out along the ground, as he sped like an arrow over the sandy soil, and was soon out of sight.

Continuing, we put up a second antelope, which we followed up carefully. Finally I got a shot at him, and bowled him over. He seemed to rebound from the earth, however, and was off like a streak across a low ridge. Following him up, we soon found his trail marked with splotches of blood. For two hours we followed this, at last coming upon our antelope lying out on a sandy stretch. He sprang to his feet on seeing us, and once more started off at a good pace. Mounting our ponies, we foolishly gave chase. We could not overtake the wounded animal. With my glasses I had made out a big red patch on his side, showing where he had been hit. In spite of this wound he led us for a ten-mile run, finally eluding us in some broken country, where his trail got mixed up with a lot of others equally fresh, and the blood having long since ceased to flow, we were unable to track him further. We saw several other antelopes, but were unable to get within range, so finally returned to Hsia-pu-na without having secured one.

It was still early in the day, so we decided to continue our journey for another half stage. Twenty li more of the plain, and we reached a deep and winding gorge in the mountains, up which we travelled till we reached a small village named Yang-p’o-yao-tzŭ. Here we put up for the night.

Up to this point the sides of the ravine were of basalt, showing the characteristic columnar cleavage, but from Yang-p’o-yao-tzŭ westward we travelled, next day, through a deep and narrow ravine in rugged mountains of granite. At noon, after crossing a high pass, we stopped at a large village named Ning-yüan, which contains about one thousand inhabitants, and is the seat of a small country official.

After leaving Ning-yüan and following the valley to its head, we crossed a second rather low pass and once more descended into the T’ai Hai basin, putting up for the night at a Catholic village named Hsiang-ho-ti, on the western shore of the lake. Here we met several of the Catholic priests, who, as usual, were very kind and courteous, giving us all the information we required about the district.

The following day, June 4, we skirted the southern shore of the lake, which extends in this direction about forty li, finally reaching a large village named T’ien-ch’êng-ts’un, where we put up at a comfortable inn.

From this point westward to Yang-kao we traversed the same road as on our outward journey. At Fên-chêng we received word that Yang-kao had just been looted by mutinous troops. This made us somewhat anxious, but two days later, when we reached that town, we found that order had been restored, though all the tradespeople had been cleaned out, several streets burnt, and $12,000[4] looted from the grain merchants.

As I wished to examine more carefully the geology of the country along the Chang-sui Extension line, I sent Warrington on by rail with our outfit, while I took the three ponies and traversed the distance between Yang-kao and Kalgan by road. During this journey, which took three days, we experienced very bad weather indeed. Several severe hailstorms, followed by heavy rain, caused the Nan-yang Ho to swell, flooding the valley so that we could only proceed along the railway embankment. In one place where we were taking shelter under a railway arch, the hailstones, ranging in size from marbles to pigeons’ eggs, lay from three to six inches deep, giving the effect of a heavy fall of snow.

The grandeur of that storm as it rolled down from the north was superb. Heavy black clouds, lit up in places by the westering sun, whose bright rays they were about to cut off, came sweeping over the granite peaks and down the steep slopes, pouring out a white wall of hail, which seemed to pass like a scythe over the waving fields of early wheat. As the hurricane, driving before it the yellow dust from the road, and swirling mists of wind-sprayed rain, struck the tall poplars, they groaned, bent and cracked. The stout trunks of some snapped like matchwood; others were uprooted and hurled to the ground, where their leaves were soon stripped off and beaten into the soil. Telegraph poles went down in rows before the fury of that blast. As the heavy clouds came overhead the light grew dim; the rain and hail fairly shrieked as it thrashed upon the unyielding rocks, or churned the soft earth of the fields into frothy mud; jagged forks of lightning ripped through the inky pall, followed by the crash of thunder, which echoing and re-echoing through the ravines and gorges sounded like the roll of cannon in battle. Presently a dull persistent roar could be heard, which steadily increased in volume till it drowned all other sounds, and looking across the valley we saw a mighty rushing torrent sweeping all before it, and bearing upon its foaming surface trees, bushes and debris of all kinds. The terrified ponies whinnied and capered in their fear, but finding that they could not break loose stood trembling under the shelter of the arch. So severe was this particular storm that the train, which had passed but a few minutes before, was held up at the next station, as the engineer feared that it would be derailed if it caught the full force of the gale when crossing the high bridges of the Tung and Hsi-yang Ho. At last the storm passed, and the sun, before it dipped behind the western peaks, shone through the mists, and bathed everything in gold. The purple shadows lengthened and the chill of night descended, as we sought shelter at the nearest station inn.

Next day, as the river was still in flood, we continued along the embankment, noting the devastation wrought by yesterday’s storms. For miles the telegraph poles were down, while hundreds of fine trees had been laid low and already were being stripped of their branches and sawn up into logs. In one place a landslide, bringing down with it three mighty elms, effectually barred our path, necessitating a perilous detour into the swirling waters and sinking sands of the river bed.

At last we reached Kalgan, having accomplished our task, and I at once proceeded to Tientsin with my specimens. These I shipped to America before the end of the month, and having worked up the results of our observations, returned to Kalgan on July 10 ready to start a journey into Mongolia.