id="page22"/>insinuation, which we clearly saw proceeded at once from Sandara’s jealous annoyance at the confidence we reposed in his cousin, and from a cunning desire, in giving us the idea that he was warmly attached to our interest, to divert our attention from his own petty peculations.  We gave Samdadchiemba, who did not at all perceive his relative’s treachery, some more provisions, and he returned to the pastures of Koukou-Noor.

Next day, the town of Tang-Keou-Eul was the scene of terrible disorder.  The brigands had made their appearance in the vicinity, and had driven off 2000 head of cattle belonging to the tribe called Houng-Mao-Eul (Long Hairs).  These Eastern Thibetians quit once a-year the slopes of the Bayan-Khara mountains in large caravans, and come to Tang-Keou-Eul to sell furs, butter, and a kind of wild fruit that grows in their district.  While they are engaged in these commercial operations, they leave their large herds in the vast prairies that abut upon the town, and which are under the jurisdiction of the Chinese authorities.  There was no example, we heard, of the brigands having ventured to approach so close as this to the frontiers of the Empire.  This present audacity of theirs, and more especially the known violence of character of the Long Hairs, contributed to throw the whole town into utter dismay and confusion.  Upon hearing of their loss the Long Hairs had tumultuously rushed to the Chinese tribunal, and, their long sabres in their hands, lightning in their eyes, and thunder in their mouths, had demanded justice and vengeance.  The terrified Mandarin instantly despatched 200 soldiers in pursuit of the robbers.  But the Long Hairs, seeing that these foot soldiers could never overtake the brigands, who were well mounted, threw themselves into their saddles, and dashed off in search of the thieves.  They returned next day with no other result attained than that their fury was redoubled.  Altogether destitute of foresight, these half-savages had gone off without any provisions whatever, never thinking that, in the desert, they would find nothing to eat.  Accordingly, after a day’s forced march, hunger had compelled them to return.  Not so the Chinese soldiers.  These worthies, knowing much better what they were about, had provided themselves for their warlike expedition with infinite asses and oxen laden with apparatus for the kitchen, and with ammunition for the mouth.  As they felt no sort of desire to go and fight for 2000 cattle that did not belong to them, after a very brief military progress they halted on the bank of a river, where they spent several days, eating, drinking, and amusing themselves, and giving no more heed to the brigands than though there had never been such personages in the world.  When they had consumed all their provisions they returned quietly to

Tang-Keou-Eul, and declared to the Mandarin that they had scoured the desert without being able to come up with the robbers; that once, indeed, these had seemed within their grasp, but that, availing themselves of their magic powers, they had vanished.  At Tang-Keou-Eul everybody is persuaded that the brigands are all more or less sorcerers, and that in order to render themselves invisible, all they have to do is to exhale in a particular manner, or to throw some sheep’s treddles behind them.  It is probably the Chinese soldiers who have brought these fables into vogue; at all events they certainly make excellent use of them in all their expeditions.  The Mandarins, doubtless, are not their dupes; but provided the victims of the robbers are content with these tales, that is all the Chinese authorities care about.

For several days the Houng-Mao-Eul were perfectly furious.  They ran about the streets like madmen, flourishing their sabres and vociferating a thousand imprecations against the brigands.  All the townspeople got carefully out of their way, respecting their anger with entire veneration.  The appearance of these fellows even at their very best, when they are perfectly calm and good humoured, is sufficiently alarming.  They are clothed at all seasons of the year in a great sheepskin robe, rudely drawn up round the waist by a thick camel-hair rope.  Left to itself this robe would drag along the ground, so that when raised by the cord above the knees it communicates to the chest a most rotund, stuffed, and awkward appearance.  They have great leather boots, which come up to just below the knee, so that, as they wear no trousers, their legs are always half bare.  Their hair, black and greasy, hangs in long matted locks down their shoulders, and, in fact, falling over the brow, half conceals the face.  The right arm is always bare, the sleeve being thrown quite back.  A long, broad sabre is passed through their girdle just below the chest, and the right hand scarcely ever quits its hilt.  The manners and movements of these inhabitants of the desert are abrupt and jerking, their speech brief and energetic.  The tones of their voice have something about them metallic and deafening.  Many of them are wealthy, and with these display consists in decorating the sheath of the sword with precious stones, and their own robes with borders of tiger-skin.  The horses which they bring to Tang-Keou-Eul are remarkably beautiful, vigorous, well made, and of great grandeur in the step: in all respects far superior to those of Tartary, and fully justifying the Chinese phrase, Sima, Toung-nieou (Western horses—eastern oxen.)

The Houng-Mao-Eul, being famous for their bravery and for an independence which amounts to the ferocious, it is they who give

the ton to the people of Tang-Keou-Eul, who all essay to catch their air and gait, and to acquire a reputation for valour and devil-may-carishness.  The result is, that Tang-Keou-Eul bears a strong family resemblance to a great den of thieves.  Everybody there makes it his business to have his hair and clothes in utter disorder, everybody bawls at everybody, everybody pushes against everybody, everybody fights everybody, so that everybody from time to time draws everybody’s blood.  In the depth of winter, though the winter here is desperately cold, people go about with their arms and half their legs bare.  To wear clothing adapted to the icy season would be considered a mark of pusillanimity.  A good brave fellow, they say, should fear nothing, neither men nor elements.  At Tang-Keou-Eul the Chinese themselves have lost much of their urbanity and of the polished forms of their language, having involuntarily undergone the influence of the Houng-Mao-Eul, who converse together in much the same style that we can imagine tigers in the woods to converse.  On the day of our arrival at Tang-Keou-Eul, a few minutes before we entered the town, we met a Long Hair who had been giving his horse drink in the River Keou-Ho.  Samdadchiemba, who was always attracted by anything having an eccentric air, cautiously approached the man, and saluted him in the Tartar fashion, saying, “Brother, art thou at peace?”  The Houng-Mao-Eul turned fiercely towards him: “What business of thine is it, tortoise-egg,” cried he, with the voice of a Stentor, “whether I am at peace or at war?  And what right hast thou to address as thy brother a man who knows nothing about thee?”  Poor Samdadchiemba was taken all aback at this reception, yet he could not help admiring, as something very fine, this haughty insolence of the Long Hair.

Tang-Keou-Eul, in consequence of its dirt and its excessive population, is a very unwholesome place to live in.  There is an universal odour of grease and butter about, that is enough to make you sick.  In certain quarters, more particularly where the especial poor and the especial vagabonds congregate, the stench is insupportable.  Those