From Ning-hsia we had 267 miles to the town Pao-te, and now we had to cross the Mongolian district of Ordos, between the Great Wall and the northern bend of the Yellow River. In summer it is better to travel by boat down the river, which rises in north-eastern Tibet and falls into the northern bay of the Yellow Sea after a course of 2500 miles. The river owes its name to its turbid yellow water, which makes the sea also yellow for some distance from the coast. Elsewhere the Yellow Sea is no yellower than any other. At that time, in January, the Yellow River was covered with thick ice, and where we crossed it with our nine camels its breadth was 380 yards. Then we made long days' marches through the desert, and had a very hard and troublesome journey. We had indeed with us enough mutton, bread, and rice, and there were wells along the road. One of them was 130 feet deep and was walled round. But we suffered from cold. Sometimes the temperature was only 1.5 deg. at noon, -27 deg. at night, and 16.5 deg. in the tent. Besides, it blew steadily and with the velocity of a hurricane. Fortunately I had bought a small Chinese portable stove, which kept me from freezing. It is not larger than an ordinary teapot and has a perforated cover. A few pieces of glowing charcoal are embedded in ashes in the tin, which is thus kept warm all day. Up on the camel I had this little comforting contrivance on my knees, and at night I laid it among my rugs when I crept into bed. One day there was such a furious storm over the level and exposed country that we could not move from the spot. We sat wrapped up in our furs and rugs and simply froze. On arrival at Pao-te I had still 430 miles to travel to the capital of the kingdom, Peking. I was eager to be there, and resolved to hurry forward by forced marches. I hired a small two-wheeled cart, and had no servant with me but the Chinese driver. Islam with an interpreter was to follow slowly after with our baggage. On this route no fewer than sixty-one Swedish missionaries were at work, and I often stayed in their hospitable houses. At other times I put up in the country inns. They are incredibly dirty, full of noisy travellers, smoke, and vermin. The guest room where you sleep at night must be shared with others. Along the inner wall stands a raised ledge of bricks. It is built like an oven and is heated with cattle-dung beneath; and on the platform the sleeper, if not half suffocated, is at any rate half roasted. In Kalgan (Chang-kia-kau), where the Great Wall is passed, I exchanged my cart for a carrying chair on two long poles. It was borne by two mules which trotted along over the narrow mountain road leading to Peking. Sometimes we were high above the valley bottom, and met whole rows of caravans, carts, riders, and foot passengers, chairs with mules, and every one was in constant danger of being pushed over the edge.