ich might
carry us back and forth toward every point of the compass. When it
was time to return, he would head his pony unerringly for that
single spot on the plain and take us back as straight as the flight
of an arrow.

At first it gave him unceasing enjoyment when we became completely
lost, but in a very short time we learned to note the position of
the sun, the character of the ground, and the direction of the wind.
Then we began to have more confidence in ourselves. But only by
years of training can one hope even to approximate the Mongols. They
have been born and reared upon the plains, and have the inheritance
of unknown generations whose very life depended upon their ability
to come and go at will. To them, the hills, the sun, the grass, the
sand--all have become the street signs of the desert.

In the afternoon of our second day I remained at the tents to
measure specimens, while Yvette and the lama rode out toward the
scene of our morning hunt to locate an antelope which one of our
Mongol neighbors had reported dead not far away. At six o'clock they
came galloping back with the news that there were two gazelles
within three miles of camp. I saddled Kublai Khan and left with them
at once. Twenty minutes of steady trotting brought us to the summit
of a slope, where we could see the animals quietly feeding not five
hundred yards away.

It was just possible to stalk them for a long-range shot, and
slipping off my pony, I flattened out upon the ground. On hands and
knees, and sometimes at full length, I wormed my way through the
grass for one hundred yards. The cover ended there and I must shoot
or come into full view of the gazelles. They were so far away that
the front sight entirely covered the animals, and to increase the
difficulty, both were walking slowly. The first bullet struck low
and to the right, but the antelope only jumped and stared fixedly in
my direction; at the second shot one went down. The other animal
dashed away like a flash of lightning, and although I sent a bullet
after its white rump-patch, the shot was hopeless.

The antelope I had knocked over got to its feet and tried
desperately to get away, but the lama leaped on his pony and caught
it by one hind leg. My automatic pistol was not in working order,
and it was necessary to knife the poor beast--a job which I hate
like poison. The lama walked away a dozen yards and covered his face
with the sleeve of his gown. It is against the law