This stealing of cattle, this grabbing of pasture and forest, this fighting, this killing, this capture of women continued for ages with no apparent results except those which were personal, local, and transient till Temudjin the great Mongol appeared in that harsh mountain country. This man summed up in himself, and intensified to the utmost the ideas, strength, temper and spirit of his race as presented in action and life up to his day. He placed the Mongols on the stage of the world with a skill and a power that were simply colossal and all-conquering. The results which he won were immediate and terrifying. No man born of woman has had thus far in history a success so peculiar, so thorough and perfect, so completely acknowledged by mankind as the success won by Temudjin. There is in his career an unconquerable sequence, a finish, a oneness of character that sets it apart among all the careers of those mighty ones in history who worked for this life and no other, and strove for no object save that which is tangible, material and present; success of such kind and success so enormous that a common intelligence might yearn for it, but have no more chance of winning than of reaching the stars, or of seeing the sun during night hours. The career of this Mongol is unique in the world, unapproachable, since its object was unmixed and immediate and his success in attaining it was so great that it seems, we might say, super-human. The account which is given us of Temudjin’s origin is a myth tale, excepting a few generations directly preceding him. Genealogy in the form of a myth tale is no exception in the case of any people,—no wonder. It is the rule and inevitable, the one method used by each primitive folk to explain its own origin. All early men in their own accounts are descended from gods who are either divine mythic animals, or elements, or forces, or phenomena which become later on the progenitors of nations, or their totems. The first mythic parents or founders of Temudjin’s family were a blue wolf and a gray doe. These two swam across a lake, reached the river Onon near its sources and settled down permanently at the foot of Mount Burhan, where a son called Batachi was born to them. Ninth in descent from Batachi were Duva Sohor, and Doben. The former had only one eye which was fixed in the middle of his forehead, but with that eye he saw beyond three mountain ranges. Once these two brothers climbed up Mount Burhan, and were gazing at the world from the top of it when Duva Sohor beheld many people moving down the Tungeli. “There is the wife for my brother, unless she is married,” thought Duva. “Go and see her,” said he then to Doben. Doben went to the new people straightway and learned that the woman was single and that her name was Alan Goa. The moving people were dependents of one Horilartai.