well of Boro-Sondji. It was now two o'clock in the afternoon; we had, therefore, been exposed for nine consecutive hours to frightful heat, and had ridden upwards of twenty miles.
After unloading the camels, I sent a Cossack back with the Mongol for the pack which had been left on the road, by the side of which our other (Mongol) dog, who had been with us nearly two years, was laid. The poor brute had lain down underneath the pack but was still alive, and after getting a draught of water he was able to follow the men back to camp. Notwithstanding the complete prostration of our physical and moral energies, we felt the loss of 'Faust' so keenly that we could eat nothing, and slept but little all night. The following morning we dug a small grave and buried in it the remains of our faithful friend. As we discharged this last duty to him my companion and I wept like children. 'Faust' had been our friend in every sense of the word! How often in moments of trouble had we caressed and played with him, half forgetting our griefs! For nearly three years had he served us faithfully through the frost and storms of Tibet, the rain and snow of Kan-su, and the wearisome marches of many thousand miles, and at last had fallen a victim to the burning heat of the desert; this too within two months of the termination of the expedition!
The route taken by most of the caravans of pilgrims from Urga to Ala-shan on their way to Tibet, turns a little to the west at the Khan-ula
