just
one shot at the "head of heads."

Some men tell me that they never get excited when they hunt. Thank
God, I do. There would be no fun at all for me if I _didn't_ get
excited. But, fortunately, it all comes after the crucial moment.
When the stock of the rifle settles against my cheek and I look
across the sights, I am as cold as steel. I can shoot, and keep on
shooting, with every brain cell concentrated on the work in hand but
when it is done, for better or worse, I get the reaction which makes
it all worth while.

One morning, a week after we had been in camp, Tserin Dorchy and I
discovered a cow and a calf wapiti feeding in an open forest. It was
a delight to see how the old Mongol stalked the deer, slipping from
tree to bush, sometimes on his knees or flat on his face in the soft
moss carpet. When we were two hundred yards away we drew up behind a
stump. I took the cow, while Tserin Dorchy covered the calf and at
the sound of our rifles both animals went down for good. I was glad
to have them for specimens because we never got a shot at a bull in
Mongolia, although twice I lost one by the merest chance. One of our
hunters brought in a three-year-old moose a short time after we got
the wapiti and another had a long chase after a wounded bear.

It was the first week in September when we returned to the base
camp, our ponies heavily loaded with skins and antlers. The Chinese
taxidermists under my direction had made a splendid collection of
small mammals, and we had pretty thoroughly exhausted the resources
of the forests in the Terelche region. Therefore, Yvette and I
decided that it would be well to ride into Urga and make
arrangements for our return to Peking.

We did the fifty miles with the greatest ease and spent the night
with Mamen in Mai-ma-cheng. Next day Mr. and Mrs. MacCallie arrived,
much to our delight. They were to spend the winter in Urga on
business and they brought a supply of much needed ammunition,
photographic plates, traps and my Mannlicher rifle. This equipment
had been shipped from New York ten months earlier but had only just
reached Peking and been released from the Customs through the heroic
efforts of Mr. Guptil.

We had another two weeks' hunting trip before we said good-by to
Mongolia but it netted few results. All the valleys, which had been
deserted when we were there before, were filled with Mongols cutting
hay for the winter feed of their sheep and goats. Of course, every