ed them I heard the
shout of two Mongol horsemen, who were riding toward me, and leading
my pony they had caught a dozen miles away. A score of men from the
caravan had been in search of me since the morning after my
disappearance, and had ridden many a mile over the desert."

The Mongols are a strong, hardy, and generally good-natured race,
possessing the spirit of perseverance quite as much as the Chinese.
They have the free manners of all nomadic people, and are noted for
unvarying hospitality to visitors. Every stranger is welcome, and has
the best the host can give; the more he swallows of what is offered
him, the better will be pleased the household. As the native habits
are not especially cleanly, a fastidiously inclined guest has a
trying time of it. The staple dish of a Mongol yourt is boiled mutton,
but it is unaccompanied with capers or any other kind of sauce or
seasoning. A sheep goes to pot immediately on being killed, and the
quantity that each man will consume is something surprising. When the
meat is cooked it is lifted out of the hot water and handed, all
dripping and steamy, to the guests. Each man takes a large lump on his
lap, or any convenient support, and then cuts off little chunks which
he tosses into his mouth as if it were a mill-hopper. The best piece
is reserved for the guest of honor, who is expected to divide it with
the rest; after the meat is devoured they drink the broth, and this
concludes the meal. Knives and cups are the only aids to eating, and
as every man carries his own "outfit," the Mongol dinner service is
speedily arranged. The entire work consists in seating the party
around a pot of cooked meat.

[Illustration: MONGOL DINNER TABLE.]

The desert is crossed by various ridges and small mountain chains,
that increase in frequency and make the country more broken as one
approaches the Tolla, the largest stream between Pekin and Kiachta.
The road, after traversing the last of these chains, suddenly reveals
a wide valley which bears evidence of fertility in its dense forests,
and the straggling fields which receive less attention than they
deserve.

The Tolla has an ugly habit of rising suddenly and falling
deliberately. When at its height, the stream has a current of about
seven miles an hour, and at the fording place the water is over the
back of an ordinary pony. The bottom of the river consists of large
boulders of all sizes from an egg up to a cotton bale, and the footing