CHAPTER VII 



THE LONG TRAIL TO SAIN NOIN KHAN 



Our arrival in Urga was in the most approved man- 

 ner 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 taxider- 

 mists, 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 tran- 

 sition from the back seat of a motor car to a jolting cart 

 did not harmonize with their preconceived scheme of 

 Mongolian life. But they endured it manfully, and 

 doubtless it added much to the store of harrowing expe- 

 rience with which they could regale future audiences in 

 civilized Peking. 



My wife and I were each mounted on a Mongol pony. 

 Mine was called "Kublai Khan" and he deserved the 

 name. Later I shall have much to tell of this wonderful 



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