e female on his pony, and I strapped the other two
on Kublai Khan. When I mounted, he was carrying a weight of two
hundred and eighty-five pounds, yet he kept his steady "homeward
trot" without a break until we reached the carts six miles away.

Yvette had been afraid that we would miss the well in the gathering
darkness, and had made a "dry camp" beside the road. We had only a
little water for ourselves; but my pony's nose was full of dust, and
I knew how parched his throat must be, so I divided my supply with
him. The poor animal was so frightened by the dish, that he would
only snort and back away; even when I wet his nose with some of the
precious fluid, he would not drink.

The success of our work upon the plains depended largely upon Kublai
Khan. He was only a Mongol pony but he was just as great, in his own
way, as was the Tartar emperor whose name he bore. Whatever it was I
asked him to do, he gave his very best. Can you wonder that I loved
him?

Within a fortnight from the time I bought him, he became a perfect
hunting pony. The secret of it all was that he liked the game as
well as I. Traveling with the carts bored him exceedingly but the
instant game appeared he was all excitement. Often he saw antelope
before we did. We might be trotting slowly over the plains, when
suddenly he would jerk his head erect and begin to pull gently at
the reins; when I reached down to take my rifle from the holster, he
would tremble with eagerness to be off.

In hunting antelope you should ride slowly toward the animals,
drawing nearer gradually. They are so accustomed to see Mongols that
they will not begin to run in earnest until a man is five or six
hundred yards away, but when they are really off, a fast pony is the
great essential. The time to stop is just before the animals cross
your path, and then you must stop quickly. Kublai Khan learned the
trick immediately. As soon as he felt the pressure of my knees, and
the slightest pull upon the reins, his whole body stiffened and he
braced himself like a polo pony. It made not the slightest
difference to him whether I shot from his back or directly under his
nose; he stood quietly watching the running antelope. When we were
riding across the plains if a bird ran along the ground or a hare
jumped out of the grass, he was after it like a dog. Often I would
find myself flying toward an animal which I had never seen.

Yvette's pony was useless for hunting antelope. Instead of