There was a steep pass before us, a few miles distant, and at a yourt near the Khara four sturdy little yaks were engaged to get our carts over. A young lama courier, well versed in the Russian language, whom we found in the yourt, where he had spent the night, afforded us no end of fun all the morning. He was a great wag, and affected to be a man of the world, travelling constantly as he did between the court of Peking and Kiachta. He chaffed our lama more than he liked, criticising his cattle, and offering to buy him out. As a specimen of how these couriers do their work, this young scamp had not only spent the whole night in a yourt, but waited in the morning for our party, and kept company with us till near mid-day.
The pass is up a steep and rugged ravine, thickly wooded with white-skinned birch-trees. The trees do not grow to any size before they rot in the heart, and become hollow, when the wind blows them over. Few of them have a proper trunk, but two or three strong suckers shooting up from the root. It makes excellent firewood, but is unfit for any other purpose.
In the ascent the view is entirely shut in by the woods, but on the top, near the Obon, is a clear space, from which an imposing view is obtained of the hills and dales behind and before us, with the Boro valley spread out at our feet. In the descent we plunge again into the thick woods, emerging at the foot into a long valley leading to Bain-gol. This is a very small river, with soft, boggy ground on either side, very bad walking for camels. The river, like the others we had crossed, runs westwards and northwards. On the north side of Bain-gol we halted from sunset till midnight, and at daylight entered another fine, long valley, through which runs the Shara-gol, the "yellow," or "sandy river," for it may be translated either way. In this valley the grass grew more luxuriantly than we had yet seen. Crowds of Mongols were settled here, and the valley was covered with enormous herds of cattle. The people were busy cutting the long grass with scythes, which they handle very skilfully, and stacking it up round their yourts. This grassy spot was selected for wintering in, and is no doubt less populous in the summer season, when the grass is green and abundant in the country. A steep pass takes us out of this valley, but we still follow to the left the course of the river for some distance. We halted about 4 o'clock, the lama having ridden to a distant yourt to buy a sheep. He could not bring it with him, but must needs return to our tent, and send Tellig, who was a "black man," to fetch the sheep, thereby losing much valuable time. The lama notions on this subject are absurd in the extreme. They will not kill an animal, nor will they carry it to be killed. But they will bargain for and purchase the animal for the purpose of getting it killed, and they will eat it after it is killed, thus becoming "accessory after the fact," as well as before it. I never could understand the logic of this practical application of the doctrine of transmigration, for it always appeared to me that on the hypothesis of the soul of Bhudda or any relative being in captivity in the body of a sheep, it would be a simple act of charity to release it by procuring the transmigration.
It rained a little at sunset, but no gale of wind followed, as on former occasions.
At midnight we proceeded over a stiff sandy pass, and got the carts through by putting an extra camel to each of them. This was followed by another stiff pass, a little sandy, but road pretty good, and so on through the night, till we descended about 9 o'clock next day to the banks of the Iro-gol, a smooth flowing river, 100 yards wide, and ten feet deep. Seeing hosts of caravans on both sides of the river we expected to have to "wait a wee" before we could get across, but were agreeably surprised to find a passage ready for us in a few hours. Rafts made of hollowed trees lashed together transport the baggage, the camels and horses, unloaded, are led from the boats, and swim across. The current of the Iro was about three miles an hour. The right bank of the river at the place we crossed is a great flat, but the left bank is hilly and well wooded, and apparently closed in by bluffs on the right bank above and below us, for the river is very tortuous. It forms altogether a very pretty valley. We had to spend a good many hours basking in the warm sunshine, waiting for all the force to get over. When the caravan was ready to start we induced the lama to ride ahead with us through Talabulyk, taking a sackful of mutton to be boiled at some yourt ready for Tellig and his friend when they came up. By this means we saved much time, and gave the Mongols no excuse for another halt. One long march would bring us to Kiachta, and we were the more anxious to lose no time, because a storm, or some other unforeseen event, might delay us again. We travelled hard all night over rough roads, through dense pine forests, and shortly after daylight we came out on a rather sandy open space, across which, at a distance of eight miles, Tellig pointed out two white specks, informing us, with an air of triumph, that that was Kiachta. They were two of the church spires that form landmarks for all Russian towns.
Here we were, then, at last, on the 29th of September, at the end of a journey which had sometimes seemed interminable. Thirty-four days in travelling 780 miles! Think of that, ye who fly about the country in express trains. Of course the high Russian officials who pass occasionally between Peking and St. Petersburg have a quicker mode of getting across Mongolia. The post horses kept for the couriers are at their disposal, and by some pre-arrangement they have relays all the way, and so they travel in their own comfortable carriages from Kiachta to Peking in twelve days or so.