he
honor of appearing on most maps of Mongolia and yet it is even less
impressive than Panj-kiang. There are only two mud houses and half a
dozen _yurts_ which seem to have been dropped carelessly behind a
ragged hill.

After leaving Ude, we slipped rapidly up and down a succession of
low hills and entered upon a plain so vast and flat that we appeared
to be looking across an ocean. Not the smallest hill or rise of
ground broke the line where earth and sky met in a faint blue haze.
Our cars seemed like tiny boats in a limitless, grassy sea. It was
sixty miles across, and for three hours the steady hum of the motor
hardly ceased, for the road was smooth and hard. Halfway over we saw
another great herd of antelope and several groups of ten or twelve.
These were a different species from those we had killed, and I got a
fine young buck. Twice wolves trotted across the plain, and at one,
which was very inquisitive, I did some shooting which I vainly try
to forget.

But most interesting to me among the wild life along our way was the
bustard. It is a huge bird, weighing from fifteen to forty pounds,
with flesh of such delicate flavor that it rivals our best turkey. I
had always wanted to kill a bustard and my first one was neatly
eviscerated at two hundred yards by a Savage bullet. I was more
pleased than if I had shot an antelope, perhaps because it did much
to revive my spirits after the episode of the wolf.

Sand grouse, beautiful little gray birds, with wings like pigeons
and remarkable, padded feet, whistled over us as we rolled along the
road, and my heart was sick with the thought of the excellent
shooting we were missing. But there was no time to stop, except for
such game as actually crossed our path, else we should never have
arrived at Urga, the City of the Living God.

Speaking of gods, I must not forget to mention the great lamasery at
Turin, about one hundred and seventy miles from Urga. For hours
before we reached it we saw the ragged hills standing sharp and
clear against the sky line. The peaks themselves are not more than
two hundred feet in height, but they rise from a rocky plateau some
distance above the level of the plain. It is a wild spot where some
mighty internal force has burst the surface of the earth and pushed
up a ragged core of rocks which have been carved by the knives of
weather into weird, fantastic shapes. This elemental battle ground
is a fit setting for the most remarkable group of