ws that money counts--and there is very little that a Chinaman
will not do for money.

On one of his trips across Mongolia, Mr. Coltman's car became badly
mired within a stone's throw of a Mongol _yurt_. Two or three oxen
were grazing in front of the house and Coltman asked the native to
pull his car out of the mud. The Mongol, who was comfortably smoking
his pipe in the sun, was not at all interested in the matter, but
finally remarked casually that he would do it for eight dollars.
There was no argument. Eight dollars was what he said, and eight
dollars it would have to be or he would not move. The entire
operation of dragging the car to firm ground consumed just four
minutes. But this instance was an exception for usually a Mongol is
the very essence of good nature and is ready to assist whenever a
traveler is in difficulty.

Tserin Dorchy's independence kept us in a constant state of
irritation for it was manifested in a dozen different ways. We would
gladly have dispensed with his services but his word was law in the
community and, if he had issued a "bull" against us, we could not
have obtained another man. For all his age, he was an excellent
hunter and we came to be good friends.

The old man's independence once led him into serious trouble. He had
often looked at the Bogdo-ol with longing eyes and had made short
excursions, without his gun, into its sacred forests. On one of
these trips he saw a magnificent elk with antlers such as he had
never dreamed were carried by any living animal. He could not forget
that deer. Its memory was a thorn that pricked him wherever else he
hunted. Finally he determined to have it, even if Mongolian law and
the Lama Church had proclaimed it sacred.

Toward the end of July, when he deemed the antlers just ripe for
plucking, he slipped into the forest during the night and climbed
the mountain. After two days he killed the elk. But the lamas who
patrol "God's Mountain" had heard the shot and drove him into a
great rock-strewn gorge where they lost his trail. Believing that he
was still within hearing distance, they shouted to one another that
it was useless to hunt longer and that they had best return. Then
they concealed themselves and awaited results. An hour later Tserin
Dorchy crawled out from under a bowlder directly into their hands.

He had been well-nigh killed before the lamas brought him down to
Urga and was still unconscious when they dumped him unceremoniously
in