From Pekin to Calais by Land

by Harry De Windt

Moses’ pony showed such evident signs of breaking down that he exchanged it for a new one to-day. We witnessed the operation of selecting the animal from a drove of one hundred or so that were feeding within a quarter of a mile or so of the yourt. Armed with a long slender pole with a noose at the end, one of the men rode out and, after a smart gallop, succeeded in lassoing a wiry-looking little chestnut and bringing it back to camp, when it was at once saddled. It was scarcely three years old, and had never been backed, yet in less than half an hour from when Moses mounted it was walking alongside the caravan as quietly and demurely as its predecessor. The facility and rapidity with which the Mongols break in their horses is something marvellous.

The Mongols, men, women, and children, are passionately fond of riding, and almost their sole pastime is horse, or rather pony racing, which the women, who sit cross-legged, join in as well as the men. That they are splendid riders is hardly to be wondered at, for they are in the saddle from morning till night. A Mongol never dreams of walking, even when going the shortest distances, as from one tent to another in camp. To their animals they are kindness itself, and I never once saw them strike a pony. Their seat is peculiar and ugly. Most of them ride crouching, like monkeys, leaning well over their pony’s withers, and riding entirely with the left hand, while the right arm is waved wildly about at full extent when they wish to increase their speed. As a rule, though, they are very merciful in this respect, and let their ponies take it easy, the ordinary pace being a sort of amble. We fortunately took the precaution of bringing our own saddles, for those used by the Mongols are made entirely of wood, and are hard, uncomfortable things, in shape something like a Turkish demi-pique, but about half the size. The bit used is something like our English ring-snaffle, the reins being made of thin leather thongs.

The following day was without incident except that, about sunset, we passed a series of cairns stretching away at intervals of about four hundred or five hundred yards to the horizon on either side of us. These are about fifteen feet in height, and formed of stones of various sizes, bleached camel-bones, feathers, and bits of rug, while at the top of each a dilapidated prayer-flag fluttered. We took them (as we afterwards discovered, rightly) for the boundary between Inner and Outer Mongolia. Although they are not marked on any Russian or English map, Ivanoff had told us to look out for them, as we should then be getting about half-way to Ourga. As we passed them, Moses and Co. each cast a stone upon them as an offering to their divinity. No Mongol ever dreams of omitting to do this. Nothing else occurred to break the monotony of the day’s march, but an occasional shot at a duck or sand-grouse, for we were now approaching the game country. There was little cover at first, but the next and three following days the desert was covered for miles around with thick, prickly bushes somewhat resembling furze, and here it fairly swarmed with sand-grouse, a pretty fawn-coloured bird with a black ring round the neck, and hairy legs. Most were plump, and in excellent condition, and we found them excellent eating. We must have seen thousands, and managed to bag nine brace in a couple of hours with no difficulty, merely walking a few yards away on either side of the carts, for they were not at all wild. We saw no other game except the largest hare I have ever seen, which I shot. Her size was explained when on preparing her for the pot, we found she was about to present the hare population of Gobi with an addition of five! The game was a welcome change to the tinned meats we had had to subsist on since leaving Kalgan, especially as the smart Yankee storekeeper, from whom we had procured our stores at Shanghai, had managed to palm off a number of old and useless tins, some dating as far back as the year 1862, which were carefully packed away under the others, so that we did not open them till in mid desert. I can only trust, for his sake, that the wishes we expressed regarding his future state may never be realized.

With the exception of a kind of small antelope there is no big game in Mongolia proper, although hard by, in Manchuria, there are tiger and lion in plenty. The Gobi antelope is called by the Mongols literally, “Gooroosh,” by the Chinese “Wang Yang,” or yellow sheep. It is of a light fawn colour with white legs. We saw several herds of some hundreds each, but were only once able to get within shot, for owing to the flat nature of the ground they nearly always saw or heard us long before we could get near them. The only occasion on which we did so, was by the aid of a ridge of rocks. Our ponies, too, were not up to much galloping, although Karra was always ready, and keen as mustard for a hunt. But the Mongols declined to stay for us a moment, and the operation of keeping one eye on the game, and the other on the caravan was somewhat fatiguing. With a properly organized expedition a sportsman could, have any amount of fun in the Gobi, though I doubt if even the good sport would repay him the expense and discomfort.

On the morning of the 21st, patches of bright golden sand broke the green horizon, and on the evening of the same day we passed our first night en plein desert. The next morning showed us nothing but sand, drift upon drift, as far as the eye could see, in an unbroken horizon, save where to the north-west, in the middle distance, a ridge of abrupt, precipitous rocks glowed pink in the rays of the rising sun. By midday we encamped at their base after a hard morning’s work, for the sand was axle-deep, and the camels, at times, were unable to move the carts alone. We did but little more than a mile an hour all day. Although the ridge of rocks was little over two hundred feet high, the ascent and descent occupied nearly four hours. There was no path or track of any kind, and the ridge as rough and uneven as a heap of stones. Every moment I thought the carts would go to pieces. As for the ponies, taking off their bridles and saddles, we left them to their own devices. Chow was rather awkward, and got two or three nasty falls, but Karra scrambled about like a wild cat, and was not in the least put out. Five o’clock saw us encamped on the deep sandy plain the other side, where there should have been a well, but it was, alas! quite dry, and we had to put ourselves and the ponies on short allowance. All were thoroughly done up, when at eight o’clock p.m., the inexorable Moses made a fresh start. We then found that one of the camels was dead lame. The usual Mongol remedy of patching up the sole with small tin tacks and a piece of leather, much as a boot is cobbled, was found ineffectual, so his pack was removed, and he was untied and left to get on with the caravan as best he could. The poor brute’s struggles to keep up with us were painful to witness, for a camel will go on till he drops and dies, sooner than be left alone in the desert. I would have put a bullet through him, but that the Mongols are intensely superstitious, and have a belief that killing one of these animals brings bad luck on a caravan. The poor brute was still with us when we encamped, but died about half an hour after we started in the morning. Looking back a few moments after, I saw his carcase black with crows and carrion, though a moment before there was not a bird to be seen in the sky.

MY CAMEL CART.

The Mongolian camel is peculiar to the country. It is two humped and very much smaller than camels found in other parts of the world. The average load of a caravan camel is 4 cwt., or four chests of tea of 1 cwt. each. It was often a source of wonder to me how these animals can exist as they do without water——indeed, they were supposed never to want it, and it was given them only when very plentiful. They ate the whole day, however, while on the plains, and the amount of food they got through en route was surprising. Curiously enough they seemed to prefer dry scrub to good sweet grass. In winter a long, shaggy coat protects the Mongolian camel from the keen, icy blasts that sweep over the Gobi, but in summer this is shed, with the exception of a few coarse tufts on the head, neck, and legs. Our camels appeared to suffer terribly from the heat, and perspired profusely on hot days. On these occasions we found it impossible to remain in the carts. Indeed, at all times the stench was so bad that we had to lie with our heads at an angle that no amount of pillows would rectify. Any one with apoplectic tendencies would stand a poor chance crossing Gobi. The Mongolian camel is led in the ordinary way, i.e. by a thin plug of wood sharp at one end, and thrust through the nostril, and fastened to a string, which in turn is fastened to the camel or cart in front. The operation of drilling the hole through a young camel’s nose is painful in the extreme. I witnessed it once, and not being aware that nature has provided these beasts with a kind of reservoir of green, mucous substance, presumably for purposes of self-defence, stood close to it during the operation, and received a quantity of the stuff full in my face, much to Sylvia’s delight, who ducked just in time to avoid it. Beyond this, save on one occasion, I never saw a Mongolian camel show signs of temper. They are gentle, stupid creatures for the most part.

We suffered a good deal from heat and thirst our second day in the sandy desert. The work too was harder——so hard that at times we had to hitch an extra camel on to each cart, and even then could hardly get them through the deep, clinging sand. About 11 a.m., we overtook five Mongols, wild rugged-looking fellows, on their way to Ourga. Moses discovered, after a few minutes’ conversation, that it was thanks to them and their ponies that the well of yesterday was dry. They had a sheepskin half full of water with them, but resolutely refused to spare us a drop. I do not think I ever realized what the word thirst really meant till that moment, for it was now a case of share and share alike, our supply of claret and soda-water having become exhausted three days before this. Each of these men had a bundle of heavy wooden rods fastened to his saddle-bow, and trailing on the ground, thus scoring a deep trail or wake in the sand behind him. It is only by these means that in this part of the desert the Mongol is able to find his way from yourt to yourt, for there are no landmarks to steer by. They had no tent or travelling conveniences whatever, save a large brass pan for cooking purposes, and a supply of argol in a canvas sack, though what they could find to cook was a mystery to me. They accompanied us for a time, but, seeing that we had no bottles or anything else to give them, soon left us and struck off in a south-westerly direction, directly contrary to the place they told us they were bound for, Ourga. I did not inquire why, knowing that the ways of the Mongol are inscrutable, and not to be judged as are those of the ordinary run of mankind!

So the day wore heavily away, and we plodded on, nearly up to our knees in sand by the side of the caravan till four o’clock, when Sylvia sighted a large herd of gooroosh in the distance, but the glimpse we caught of them was only momentary, and the hurrying, indistinct brown mass had in a very few seconds disappeared below the horizon.