File:Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 139 June to November 1919 (1919) (14591751228).jpg

Identifier: harpersnew139various (find matches)
Title: Harper's New Monthly Magazine Volume 139 June to November 1919
Year: 1919 (1910s)
Authors: various
Subjects:
Publisher: New York: Harper & Brothers Publishers
Contributing Library: Brigham Young University-Idaho, David O. McKay Library
Digitizing Sponsor: Brigham Young University-Idaho

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The secrets whichwere yielded up to but a chosen few areopen now to all, and the world and hiswife will speed their noisy way across themiles of rolling prairie, hearing nothing,feeling nothing, knowing nothing of thatrustless desert charm which led menout into the great unknown. At daylight we packed the cars. Bed-rolls and cans of gasoline were tied on therunning-boards and every corner wasfilled with food. Our rifles were readyfor use, however, for Coltman had prom-ised a kind of shooting such as I hadnever seen before. The stories he toldof wild rides in the car after strings ofantelope which traveled at fifty or sixtymiles an hour had left me mildly skep-tical. But then, you know, I had neverseen a Mongolian antelope run. For twenty-five or thirty miles afterleaving Hei-ma-hou we bounced alongover a road which would have beensplendid except for the deep ruts cut bymule- and ox-carts. These carts are thedespair of any one who hopes sometimeto see good roads in China. Their spike-
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ACROSS MONGOLIA BY MOTOR-CAR 7 studded wheels cut into the hardestground and leave a chaos of ridges andchasms which always grow worse. The road was bordered by Chinesevillages, built of straw-mixed mud, ofcourse, and fields of oats or milletwaved their drooping heads as far as wecould see. The Mongol, above all things,is not a farmer;possibly becausemany years agothe Manchus for-bade him to tillthe soil. More-over, he is as awk-ward on theground as a duckout of water and isnever comfort-able. The back ofa horse is his realhome, and he willdo wonderfullywell any workwhich keeps himin the saddle. Sohe leaves to theplodding China-man the cultiva-tion of his bound-less plains whilehe herds his fat-tailed sheep orgoats and cattle. In three hours we had left the lastChinese house behind us and were driv-ing toward a low range of hills behindwhich lay Tabul. Here, some distancefrom the road, is the house of a lonehorse-trader, Larsen by name, one of thefew foreigners who live on the plateau

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