in, and when we awoke only the smoking
embers of an _argul_ fire remained as evidence that they ever had
been there.

Mongolia, as we saw it in the spring, was very different from
Mongolia of the early autumn. The hills and plains stretched away in
limitless waves of brown untinged by the slightest trace of green,
and in shaded corners among rocks there were still patches of snow
or ice. Instead of resembling the grassy plains of Kansas or
Nebraska, now it was like a real desert and I had difficulty in
justifying to Yvette and Mac my glowing accounts of its potential
resources.

Moreover, the human life was just as disappointing as the lack of
vegetation, for we were "between seasons" on the trail. The winter
traffic was almost ended, and the camels would not be replaced by
cart caravans until the grass was long enough to provide adequate
food for oxen and horses. The _yurts_, which often are erected far
out upon the plains away from water when snow is on the ground, had
all been moved near the wells or to the summer pastures; and
sometimes we traveled a hundred miles without a glimpse of even a
solitary Mongol.

Ude had been left far behind, and we were bowling along on a road as
level as a floor, when we saw two wolves quietly watching us half a
mile away. We had agreed not to chase antelope again; but wolves
were fair game at any time. Moreover, we were particularly glad to
be able to check our records as to how fast a wolf can run when
conditions are in its favor. Coltman signaled Mac to await us with
the others, and we swung toward the animals which were trotting
slowly westward, now and then stopping to look back as though
reluctant to leave such an unusual exhibition as the car was giving
them. A few moments later, however, they decided that curiosity
might prove dangerous and began to run in earnest.

They separated almost immediately, and we raced after the larger of
the two, a huge fellow with rangy legs which carried him forward in
a long, swinging lope. The ground was perfect for the car, and the
speedometer registered forty miles an hour. He had a thousand-yard
start, but we gained rapidly, and I estimated that he never reached
a greater speed than thirty miles an hour. Charles was very anxious
to kill the brute from the motor with his .45 caliber automatic
pistol, and I promised not to shoot.

The wolf was running low to the ground, his head a little to one
side watching us with one bloodshot eye.