ed up the valley, and now and then a herd of
cattle massed themselves in moving patches on the hillsides. But
they are only a fraction of the numbers which this land could easily
support.

Not far from Tabool is a Mongol village. I jumped out of the car to
take a photograph but scrambled in again almost as quickly, for as
soon as the motor had stopped a dozen dogs dashed from the houses
snarling and barking like a pack of wolves. They are huge brutes,
these Mongol dogs, and as fierce as they are big. Every family and
every caravan owns one or more, and we learned very soon never to
approach a native encampment on foot.

The village was as unlike a Chinese settlement as it well could be,
for instead of closely packed mud houses there were circular,
latticed frameworks covered with felt and cone-shaped in the upper
half. The _yurt_, as it is called, is perfectly adapted to the
Mongols and their life. In the winter a stove is placed in the
center, and the house is dry and warm. In the summer the felt
covering is sometimes replaced by canvas which can be lifted on any
side to allow free passage of air. When it is time for the
semiannual migration to new grazing grounds the _yurt_ can be
quickly dismantled, the framework collapsed, and the house packed on
camels or carts.

The Mongols of the village were rather disappointing, for many of
them show a strong element of Chinese blood. This seems to have
developed an unfortunate combination of the worst characteristics of
both races. Even where there is no real mixture, their contact with
the Chinese has been demoralizing, and they will rob and steal at
every opportunity. The headdresses of the southern women are by no
means as elaborate as those in the north.

When the hills of Tabool had begun to sink on the horizon behind us,
we entered upon a vast rolling plain, where there was but little
water and not a sign of human life. It resembled nothing so much as
the prairies of Nebraska or Dakota, and amid the short grass
larkspur and purple thistles glowed in the sunlight like tongues of
flame.

There was no lack of birds. In the ponds which we passed earlier in
the day we saw hundreds of mallard ducks and teal. The car often
frightened golden plover from their dust baths in the road, and
crested lapwings flashed across the prairie like sudden storms of
autumn leaves. Huge, golden eagles and enormous ravens made tempting
targets on the telegraph poles, and in the morning b