er.

On the second morning, instead of golden sunshine, we awoke to a
cloud-hung sky and floods of rain. It was one of those days when
everything goes wrong; when with all your heart you wish to swear
but instead you must smile and smile and keep on smiling. No one
wished to break camp in the icy deluge but there were three marshes
between us and the Terelche River which were bad enough in dry
weather. A few hours of rain would make them impassable, perhaps for
weeks.

My wife and I look back upon that day and the next as one of our
few, real hardships. After eight hours of killing work, wet to the
skin and almost frozen, we crossed the first dangerous swamp and
reached the summit of the mountain. Then the cart, with our most
valuable possessions, plunged off the road on a sharp descent and
crashed into the forest below. Chen and I escaped death by a miracle
and the other Chinese taxidermist, who was safe and sound, promptly
had hysterics. It was discouraging, to say the least. We camped in
the gathering darkness on a forty-five-degree slope in mud twelve
inches deep. Next day we gathered up our scattered belongings,
repaired the cart, and reached the river.

I had a letter from Duke Loobitsan Yangsen to a famous old hunter,
Tserin Dorchy by name, who lives in the Terelche region. He had been
gone for six days on a shooting trip when we came into the beautiful
valley where his _yurts_ were pitched, but his wife welcomed us with
true Mongolian hospitality and a great dish of cheese. Our own camp
we made just within the forest, a mile away.

For a week we hunted and trapped in the vicinity, awaiting Tserin
Dorchy's return. Our arrival created a deal of interest among the
half dozen families in the neighborhood and, after each had paid a
formal call, they apparently agreed that we were worthy of being
accepted into their community. We were nomads for the time, just as
they are for life. We had pitched our tents in the forest, as they
had erected their _yurts_ in the meadow beside the river. When the
biting winds of winter swept the valley a few months later they
would move, with all their sheep and goats, to the shelter of the
hills and we would seek new hunting grounds.

Before many days we learned all the valley gossip. Moreover, we
furnished some ourselves for one of the Chinese taxidermists became
enamored of a Mongol maiden. There were two of them, to be exact,
and they both "vamped" him persistently. The toile