the shafts for more than two years and was badly frightened
when we brought him near the cart. It was a liberal education to see
our Mongol handle that horse! He first put a hobble on all four
legs, then he swung a rope about the hind quarters, trussed him
tightly, and swung him into the shafts. When the pony was properly
harnessed, he fastened the bridle to the rear of the other cart and
drove slowly ahead. At first the horse tried to kick and plunge, but
the hobbles held him fast and in fifteen minutes he settled to the
work. Then the Mongol removed the hobbles from the hind legs, and
later left the pony entirely free. He walked beside the animal for a
long time, and did not attempt to drive him from the cart for at
least an hour.

Although Mongols seem unnecessarily rough and almost brutal, I do
not believe that any people in the world can handle horses more
expertly. From earliest childhood their real home is the back of a
pony. Every year, in the spring, a children's race is held at Urga.
Boys and girls from four to six years old are tied on horses and
ride at full speed over a mile-long course. If a child falls off it
receives but scant sympathy and is strapped on again more tightly
than before. A Mongol has no respect whatever for a man or woman who
cannot ride, and nothing will win his regard as rapidly as expert
horsemanship. Strangely enough the Mongols seldom show affection for
their ponies, nor do they caress them in any way; consequently, the
animals do not enjoy being petted and are prone to kick and bite. My
pony, Kublai Khan, was an extraordinary exception to this rule and
was as affectionate and gentle as a kitten--but there are few
animals like Kublai Khan in Mongolia!

The ponies are small, of course, but they are strong almost beyond
belief, and can stand punishment that would kill an ordinary horse.
The Mongols seldom side except at a trot or a full gallop, and forty
to fifty miles a day is not an unusual journey. Moreover, the
animals are not fed grain; they must forage on the plains the year
round. During the winter, when the grass is dry and sparse, they
have poor feeding, but nevertheless are able to withstand the
extreme cold. They grow a coat of hair five or six inches in length,
and when Kublai Khan arrived in Peking after his long journey across
the plains he looked more like a grizzly bear than a horse. He had
changed so completely from the sleek, fine-limbed animal we had
known in Mong