Jee Boo: “No; English (roaring).”
Lama: “What nonsense; they are white! and all white men are Russians, so they must be.” Silence; then, after a pause:——“What do you say you are?”
Jee Boo: “English. A country (he adds parenthetically) ruled over by a woman.”
“Indeed!” replies the Lama, opening his little pig’s-eyes in astonishment; then thoughtfully, and after a very long pause, “How many sheep has she got?”
This involved a mental and mathematical calculation rather beyond me, so I merely replied that her Majesty’s wealth was so great, it could not be gauged by the domestic animal in question. My response was only met with a quiet smile of incredulity, and a remark that elicited loud laughter from the women. We inferred, as Jee Boo did not join in the merriment, and would not tell us what it meant, that it was not complimentary.
Seeing the lama smoking, I lit a cigarette, and was about to replace the case in my pocket when our merry old host took it from my hand, and after carefully examining it, transferred it calmly but firmly into his own breeches’ pocket. Presuming he would return it when we left, I thought no more of the matter, but at the close of our visit found he had every intention of keeping it as, he explained to Jee Boo, a souvenir of me. In vain I expostulated. “You can’t possibly ask for it back,” said Jee Boo, “it is the custom.” The case was but a cheap leather one. Had it been of value, I should have rebelled, even though in mid desert. At any rate, I determined in future to make afternoon calls in Gobi with empty pockets. The name of this place, as far as I could gather, was “Ourouni.” It is very hard in the desert to get at the right name of even a permanent yourt. The Mongols have a superstition that if they tell a stranger the name of their habitation, it will bring bad luck to the place. I have frequently asked three or four of the inmates of a yourt its name, and been answered a different one by each. I gave it up at last as a bad job. The only yourt I was sure of throughout the journey was Toogoorook, and that was on our maps.
OUROUNI.
The sun was low in the heavens when we bid adieu to the Lama and took our departure. We were rather surprised to find on arriving in camp, the baggage on the ground, the ponies still unsaddled, the camels scattered about the plain in all directions, and Moses and Aaron clearly under the influence of “arak.” As for Sylvia, he had taken up a position behind one of the carts tête-à-tête with the pretty Tartar, who was plaiting his pigtail, and carrying on in a way that would somewhat have disconcerted her spouse had he suddenly arrived on the scene. Benedick would probably, however, not have minded much, for, as I have said, the Mongols are not jealous of their women. They greatly differ in this respect from the Kirghiz tartars, who will not allow a stranger even to look upon their wives. Their respective religions, Mahometanism and Buddhism, of course, account for this. The Kirghiz woman is always more or less under supervision, the Mongol may do as she pleases, go where she likes, and alone. Nevertheless, there is but little immorality among the latter. As much cannot be said for the followers of the Prophet further west.
Our faithful little henchman’s face expanded into a broad grin as soon as he saw us. He was no bad judge of female beauty. The face and figure of the object of his affections would not have disgraced a European ball-room; while a fascinating half-savage half naïve manner enhanced her attractions not a little. It was only with great difficulty and by threats of complaining to the Lama that we separated the love-sick camel-driver from his lady-love. But, even then, she would not forsake him. Jumping on a pony as soon as we started, she rode alongside the caravan till the moon had fairly risen, and we were some miles from her home. It was not till nearly ten o’clock that she left us, after a tender parting with Sylvia (during which the caravan was left to its own devices), to gallop home alone in the moonlight to her yourt and lawful master.