appraising eyes and the Mongols respect
his judgment as they respect the man. I wish that I might write the
story of his life, for it is more interesting than any novel of
romance or adventure. In almost every recent event of importance to
the Mongols Mr. Larsen's name has figured. Time after time he has
been sent as an emissary of the Living Buddha to Peking when
misunderstandings or disturbances threatened the political peace of
Mongolia. Not only does he understand the psychology of the natives,
but he knows every hill and plain of their vast plateau as well as
do the desert nomads.

For some time he had been in charge of Andersen, Meyer's branch at
Urga with Mr. E. W. Olufsen and we made their house our
headquarters. Mr. Larsen immediately undertook to obtain an outfit
for our work upon the plains. He purchased two riding ponies for us
from Prince Tze Tze; he borrowed two carts with harness from a
Russian friend, and bought another; he loaned us a riding pony for
our Mongol, a cart horse of his own, and Mr. Olufsen contributed
another. He made our equipment a personal matter and he was never
too busy to assist us in the smallest details. Moreover, we could
spend hours listening to the tales of his early life, for his keen
sense of humor made him a delightful story-teller. One of the most
charming aspects of our wandering life is the friends we have made
in far corners of the world, and for none have we a more
affectionate regard than for "Larsen of Mongolia."

[Illustration: Mongol Women Beside a _Yurt_]

[Illustration: The Headdress of a Mongol Married Woman]

[Illustration: The Framework of a _Yurt_]

[Illustration: Mongol Women and a Lama]

CHAPTER VII

THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN

Our arrival in Urga was in the most approved manner of the twentieth
century. We came in motor cars with much odor of gasoline and noise
of horns. When we left the sacred city we dropped back seven hundred
years and went as the Mongols traveled. Perhaps it was not quite as
in the days of Genghis Khan, for we had three high-wheeled carts of
a Russian model, but they were every bit as springless and
uncomfortable as the palanquins of the ancient emperors.

Of course, we ourselves did not ride in carts. They were driven by
our cook and the two Chinese taxidermists, each of whom sat on his
own particular mound of baggage with an air of resignation and
despondency. Their faces were very long indeed, for the sudden
tra