But we are off at last.  The start consumes the greater part of a day, as it is best to have nothing done carelessly at the outset.  The heavy baggage is loaded upon the camels, the animals lying down and patiently waiting while their cargoes are stowed.  Pieces of felt cloth are packed between and around their humps, to prevent injury from the cords that sustain the bundles.  The drivers display much ingenuity in arranging the loads so that they shall be easily balanced, and the sides of the beasts as little injured as possible.  Spite of precautions, the camels get ugly sores in their sides and backs, which grow steadily worse by use.  Occasionally their hoofs crack and fill with sand, and when this occurs, their owner has no alternative but to rest them a month or two, or risk losing their services altogether.  The principal travel over the desert is in the cold season.  In the autumn, the camels are fat, and their humps appear round and hard.  They are then steadily worked until spring, and very often get very little to eat.  As the camel grows thin, his humps fall to one side, and the animal assumes a woe-begone appearance.  In the spring, his hair falls off; his naked skin wrinkles like a wet glove, and he becomes anything but an attractive object.

[Illustration:  IN GOOD CONDITION.]

As a beast of burden, the camel is better than for purposes of draft.  He can carry from six hundred to eight hundred pounds, if the load be properly placed on his back; but when he draws a cart the weight must be greatly diminished.  In crossing Mongolia, heavy baggage is carried on camels, but every traveler takes a cart for riding purposes, and alternates between it and his saddle horse.  The cart is a sort of dog-house on two wheels; its frame is of wood, and has a covering of felt cloth, thick enough to ward off a light fall of rain, and embarrass a heavy one.  It is barely high enough to allow a man to sit erect, but not sufficiently long to enable him to lie at full length.  The body rests directly upon the axle, so that the passenger gets the full benefit of every jolt.  The camel walks between the shafts, and his great body is the chief feature of the scenery when one looks ahead.  The harness gives way occasionally, and allows the shafts to fall to the ground; when this happens, the occupant runs the risk of being dumped among the ungainly feet that propel his vehicle.  One experience of this kind is more than satisfactory.

After passing a range of low mountains north of Kalgan, the road enters the table-land of Mongolia, elevated about five thousand feet above the sea.  The country opens into a series of plains and gentle swells, not unlike the rolling prairies of Kansas and Nebraska, with here and there a stretch of hills.  Very often not a single tree is visible, and the only stationary objects that break the monotony of the scene are occasional yourts, or tents of the natives.  All the way along the road there are numerous trains of ox-carts,