about ten
miles beyond Ude, the halfway point on the trip to Urga. It had been
a bad day, with a bitterly cold wind which drove the dust and tiny
pebbles against our faces like a continual storm of hail. As soon as
the cars had stopped every one of us set to work with soap and water
before anything had been done toward making camp. Our one desire was
to remove a part of the dirt which had sifted into our eyes, hair,
mouths, and ears. In half an hour we looked more brightly upon the
world and began to wonder what we would have for dinner. It was a
discussion which could not be carried on for very long since the
bread was almost gone and only macaroni remained. Just then a
demoiselle crane alighted beside the well not forty yards away.
"There's our dinner," Charles shouted, "shoot it."

Two minutes later I was stripping off the feathers, and in less than
five minutes it was sizzling in the pan. That was a bit too much for
Mrs. Mac, hungry as she was. "Just think," she said, "that bird was
walking about here not ten minutes ago and now it's on my plate. It
hasn't stopped wiggling yet. I can't eat it!"

Poor girl, she went to bed hungry, and in the night waked to find
her face terribly swollen from wind and sunburn. She was certain
that she was about to die, but decided, like the "good sport" she
is, to die alone upon the hillside where she wouldn't disturb the
camp. After half an hour of wandering about she felt better, and
returned to her sleeping bag on the sandy river bottom.

Just before dark we heard the _dong_, _dong_, _dong_ of a camel's
bell and saw the long line of dusty yellow animals swing around a
sharp earth-corner into the sandy space beside the well. Like the
trained units of an army each camel came into position, kneeled upon
the ground and remained quietly chewing its cud until the driver
removed the load. Long before the last straggler had arrived the
tents were up and a fire blazing, and far into the night the thirsty
beasts grunted and roared as the trough was filled with water.

For thirty-six days they had been on the road, and yet were only
halfway across the desert. Every day had been exactly like the day
before--an endless routine of eating and sleeping, camp-making and
camp-breaking in sun, rain, or wind. The monotony of it all would be
appalling to a westerner, but the Oriental mind seems peculiarly
adapted to accept it with entire contentment. Long before daylight
they were on the road aga