ound along when not particularly
frightened, but never when they are really trying to get away in the
shortest possible time. The front limbs, as in the case of a deer,
act largely as supports and the real motive power comes from the
hind legs. If an antelope has only a front leg broken no living
horse can catch it, but with a shattered hind limb my pony could run
it down. I have already related (see [the end of chapter IV]) how,
in a car, we pursued an antelope with both front legs broken below
the knee; even then, it reached a speed of fifteen miles an hour.
The Mongolian plains are firm and hard with no bushes or other
obstructions and, consequently, are especially favorable for rapid
travel.

The cheetah, or hunting leopard of Africa, has the reputation of
being able to reach a greater speed, for a short dash, than any
other animal in that country, and I have often wondered how it would
fare in a race with a Mongolian gazelle. Unfortunately, conditions
in Africa are not favorable for the use of automobiles in hunting,
and no actual facts as to the speed of the cheetah are available.

At this camp, and during the journey back to Urga, we had many
glorious hunts. Each one held its own individual fascination, for no
two were just alike; and every day we learned something new about
the life history of the Mongolian antelope. We needed specimens for
a group in the new Hall of Asiatic Life in the American Museum of
Natural History, as well as a series representing all ages of both
males and females for scientific study. When we returned to Urga we
had them all.

The hunting of large game was only one aspect of our work. We
usually returned to camp about two o'clock in the afternoon. As soon
as tiffin had been eaten my wife worked at her photography, while I
busied myself over the almost innumerable details of the preparation
and cataloguing of our specimens. About six o'clock, accompanied by
the two Chinese taxidermists carrying bags of traps, we would leave
the tents. Sometimes we would walk several miles, meanwhile
carefully scrutinizing the ground for holes or traces of mammal
workings, and set eighty or one hundred traps. We might find a
colony of meadow voles (_Microtus_) where dozens of "runways"
betrayed their presence, or discover the burrows of the desert
hamster (_Cricetulus_). These little fellows, not larger than a
house mouse, have their tiny feet enveloped in soft fur, like the
slippers of an Eskimo bab