From Pekin to Calais by Land

by Harry De Windt

AN AWKWARD MOMENT.

This portion of the Gobi swarms with a curious animal, of which I ignore the name. It is in colour like a hare, in size something between that animal and a rabbit, with short thin legs, and stiff wiry hair like that of a badger. The ground was in many places literally honeycombed with their burrows, which are enormous for so small an animal. Many of the holes would for a short distance admit a good-sized man. They are neatly and beautifully constructed, the earth being carried and thrown away some distance off, though how has not been ascertained. We must have seen thousands, but could never get near enough to shoot one, and so examine it closely. Unlike the smaller species of rat on the other side, they are, shy and wary, and bolt into their holes on the slightest noise. It is said that Mongols eat them, but I am rather doubtful as to the truth of this assertion. Few would have the patience or take the trouble to catch them.

We sighted, on the 28th of August, a huge encampment of some fifty tents, on the horizon, evidently the yourt of some chief or Lama of importance, en voyage. On passing it at the nearest point (some two miles distant), Lancaster and I were riding off to inspect it more closely, but were recalled by the frantic gesticulations of Moses, who begged us on no account to go. His reason I never could ascertain, but he led us to understand, through Jee Boo, that we might meet with an unpleasant reception, by which I conclude some religious ceremony was being performed. We could distinguish through the glasses, crowds of people moving about the encampment, on foot and on horseback, and these with the white tents gay with gaudy prayer-flags, against the bright green sward, gave it more the appearance of a huge fair than a desert camp. The plains for miles around were dotted with flocks and herds, but none of the people, though they saw us distinctly, rode out to the caravan.

The country on the 28th became more accentuated and undulating. We passed to-day two large lakes (fresh) teeming with wild fowl, duck, and wild geese, of which latter we bagged a brace, and ate for dinner, washed down by a bottle of champagne specially kept for the day when the neck of our desert journey should be broken. The plain to-day was full of huge edible mushrooms as large as soup plates. We gathered a quantity, and had some for dinner, although as we ate them solely on Jee Boo’s assurance that they were not poisonous, we were somewhat uneasy for a couple of hours after. We encamped to-day in a kind of oasis, of wild, sweet-smelling flowers, pink heather and long grass through which ran a delightfully clear cold stream of water over a gravelly bed. It was like nectar, after the filth we had been drinking, and yet so improvident are the Mongols, that had we not insisted upon it, they would have left without filling the barrels. It was lucky we did so, for the two succeeding wells were stagnant and brackish, and one, having the remains of a dead sheep in it, undrinkable. The next day at mid-day we camped in sight of the high and partly wooded hills that surround Ourga.

A Lama, en route to the capital, now joined us. This is an invariable custom in the desert, a Tartar never travelling alone if he can possibly help it, perhaps more for the sake of companionship than from fear of robbers or marauders, who are said to infest the more lonely parts of Gobi. He (the Lama) was a fat, good-tempered old fellow, his enormously fat carcase clad from head to foot in bright yellow silk. The grey pony he rode was so tiny that looked at from behind its body was invisible. One saw nothing but a huge balloon-like mass of yellow silk, supported by four thin, very shaky-looking white legs. I noticed, throughout Mongolia, that the fattest men invariably rode the smallest ponies, perhaps on the same principle that in Europe the largest instrument in a German band is almost invariably played by a diminutive child of tender years.

We visited a yourt after dinner by the invitation of our newly made fat friend. The tent was cleaner, both inside and out, than the ones we had passed here on the Chinese side, indeed all the yourts had a prosperous, well-to-do look about them, very different to the smoke-blackened, dirty-looking dwellings on the southern side of the sandy desert. This was probably due to their being in the close vicinity of the capital, and also in a great measure to the fuel used being wood instead of the sickly-smelling, stifling “Argol.”

The reader may or may not believe in Palmistry, but it can scarcely fail to interest him to hear that this ancient science is as well known among the Mongols as the gipsies, and has been for hundreds of years. I found this out quite by accident, on examining the hand of a young girl who brought us milk and cheese, and otherwise did the honours of the yourt. To my surprise she at once guessed my intention, and insisted on my reading it all through, and explaining the lines to her. Nor did my work end here, a dozen greasy palms being eagerly thrust forward as soon as I had completed “Tsaira’s.”

The latter, a bright-looking girl of about sixteen, was evidently the belle of these parts, and not unjustly so, for her dark eyes, comely features, and pearly teeth were a pleasing contrast to the ordinary stolid, flat-faced females of the desert. She was the first (and last) really pretty Mongolian woman we saw, and unlike most of her sex (in the desert) not the least shy. The operation of shaving (which I now went through preparatory to meeting the Russian Consul at Ourga) astonished her a good deal, but the sight of a looking-glass much more so. She had never heard of such a thing, or seen her own pretty face, except dimly reflected in water or tea. It was the only one we possessed, or I could not have had the heart to refuse it her, for she was not backward in asking. However, a few sticks of chocolate consoled her, though she tried very hard for a ring I wore. It was only by impressing on her that it was given me by a “Boosooge”[^[7]] almost as pretty as herself, who would never forgive me, if I returned without it, that she allowed me to depart in peace, which we did at sunset, all the inhabitants of the yourt turning out to bid us good-bye, and load us with parting gifts of milk and cheese.

The next day (30th August) we entered a green and fertile valley, about three miles broad, with lofty, partially wooded hills on either side. The plain was in parts thickly inhabited, and we continually passed Mongols, both men and women, and during the day three large caravans, two of bullock-carts one hundred to one hundred and fifty strong, laden with wood and hides for China, to return with tea. The third was composed exclusively of camels, sixty in number. About twenty men accompanied it. On one of the leading camels was a poor Mongol, evidently in a dying condition. Our own men were far behind, and the ones we questioned by signs, only laughed and walked on when we pointed to the poor wretch, lying on his back with the fierce sun beating down on his ghastly, upturned face. About a quarter of a mile behind the caravan came the Chinaman in charge, gorgeous in yellow and lavender silk, and bristling with arms. I felt very much inclined to kick him out of his cart, and put the dying Mongol there instead. Although white men of any kind are so rare here, they never deigned to look at us, nor reply to our question, addressed in Chinese, as to how many days they had left Ourga. By getting them into conversation, we might, we thought, have accompanied them as far as the caravan, and by Jee Boo’s help got something done for the poor Tartar, but it was no use. I could not get the latter out of my head the whole day, and shuddered when I thought of how his sufferings might end. The Mongols never bury their dead, at any time, and often on a voyage leave their sick to themselves, very much as they do a camel, alone in mid-desert.