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The heart of a continent : vol.1 |
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south at Huru-su-tai. At seven and a half miles we passed a
small stream of good water.
In the next few days we passed along a plain lying between
the Hurku Hills and the southern parallel range, for which I
could get no name. We saw a peak of the Hurku Hills,
which my Mongol called Baroso-khai, and in some clefts, near
the summit, we could see patches of snow.
We passed several Mongol encampments, and one day a
Mongol official came to visit me. He was an old man, and
not interesting, showing no signs of ordinary intelligence. He
had bad eyes, and I gave him some of Calvert's carbolic
ointment to rub on the eyelids, for which he did not appear at
all thankful. He fished about in the leg of his long boot,
and produced from it a miscellaneous collection of articles—a
pipe, a small piece of string, some camel's wool, a piece of
paper, and various odds and ends, and eventually my ointment
was done up in a suitable packet to his satisfaction, and
stowed away again in the leg of his boot.
The Mongols carry about half their personal effects in their
boots, and my man, Ma-te-la, one day produced from his boots
every little scrap that I had thrown away during the march,
such as bits of paper, ends of string, a worn-out sock, and
numerous other trifles. Everything is so precious to these
Mongols in the desert that they never waste anything, and I
soon learnt the value they put on every little article.
Liu-san one day took me to task severely for giving away
an old lime-juice bottle to an ordinary Mongol. He said such
valuable gifts ought to be reserved for the big men. So the
next "swell" I came across was presented with a lime-juice
bottle with great state, and he was given to understand that
he was not likely to get such gifts as that every day in the
week, and that he was lucky to have come across such a
generous gentleman as myself.
As we passed Mongol encampments, men used to come
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