The way through the desert between the monastery of P’ang-chiang and the large monastic village of Turin near Urga was strewn for a certain distance with the skeletons of Chinese soldiers. We passed the place that had evidently been the camp, and there the skeletons lay in heaps. The stretches between the camping-grounds were strewn with felt boots and skin coats which the fugitives had thrown off so as to get away the faster from the terrors of the night and the pursuing death. It was as though a reflection of that terror stared at us from the many grinning skulls in the desert sand.