eight, inhabited by bighorn sheep and
ibex; and antelope were reported to be numerous upon the plains
which merged gradually into the sandy wastes of the western Gobi
where herds of wild horses (_Equus prjevalski_) and wild asses
(_Equus hemionus_) could be found.

Sain Noin, one of the four Mongolian kings, had died only a short
time earlier under suspicious circumstances, and his widow had just
visited the capital. Monsieur Orlow, the Russian Diplomatic Agent,
had written her regarding our prospective visit, and through him she
had extended to us a cordial invitation.

Our start from Urga was on a particularly beautiful day, even for
Mongolia. The golden roof of the great white temple on the hill
blazed with light, and the undulating crest of the Sacred Mountain
seemed so near that we imagined we could see the deer and boar in
its parklike openings. Our way led across the valley and over the
Tola River just below the palace of the Living God. We climbed a
long hill and emerged on a sloping plain where marmots were bobbing
in and out of their burrows like toy animals manipulated by a
string. Two great flocks of demoiselle cranes were daintily catching
grasshoppers not a hundred yards away. We wanted both the cranes for
dinner and the marmots for specimens, but we dared not shoot.
Although not actually upon sacred soil we were in close proximity to
the Bogdo-ol and a rifle shot might have brought a horde of
fanatical priests upon our heads. It is best to take no chances with
religious superstitions, for the lamas do not wait to argue when
they are once aroused.

The first day began most beautifully, but it ended badly as all
first days are apt to do. We met our "Waterloo" on a steep hill
shortly after tiffin, for two of the horses absolutely refused to
pull. The loads were evidently too heavy, and the outlook for the
future was not encouraging. An extract from my wife's journal tells
what we did that afternoon.

"It took two hours to negotiate the hill, and the men were almost
exhausted when the last load reached the summit Ever since tiffin
the sky had been growing darker and darker, and great masses of
black clouds gathered about the crest of the Bogdo-ol. Suddenly a
vivid flash of lightning cut the sky as though with a flaming knife,
and the rain came down in a furious beat of icy water. In five
minutes we were soaked and shivering with cold, so when at last we
reached the plain we turned off the road toward tw