AVATCHA BAY, IN KAMTCHATKA.--ATTACK UPON PETROPAVLOVSK BY THE ALLIED
FLEET.--DOGS AND DOG-DRIVING.--RAPID TRAVELLING WITH A
DOG-TEAM.--POPULATION AND RESOURCES OF KAMTCHATKA.--REINDEER AND THEIR
USES.--THE AMOOR RIVER.--NATIVE TRIBES AND CURIOUS CUSTOMS.--TIGERS IN
SIBERIA.--NAVIGATION OF THE AMOOR.--OVERLAND TRAVELLING IN
SIBERIA.--RIDING IN A TARANTASSE.--A ROUGH ROAD.--AN AMUSING
MISTAKE.--FROM STRATENSK TO NERTCHINSK.--GOLD-MINING IN SIBERIA.
"My first visit to the Russian Empire," said Mr. Hegeman, "was made from
San Francisco across the Pacific Ocean. I sailed out of the Golden Gate
in the direction of Kamtchatka, and after a voyage of thirty days we
sighted the summit of Avatcha Mountain, a magnificent volcano that
serves as a landmark to vessels approaching Avatcha Bay. This bay is one
of the finest I have ever seen. I do not think it surpassed by the
famous bays of Naples or Rio Janeiro."
[Illustration: A SIBERIAN VILLAGE.]
Doctor Bronson nodded assent to Mr. Hegeman's opinion. He had been in
Avatcha Bay, which he briefly described to the youths while Mr. Hegeman
was lighting a cigar.
[Illustration: PETROPAVLOVSK, KAMTCHATKA.--MOUNT AVATCHA IN BACKGROUND.]
"It is about ten miles across, and nearly circular," said the Doctor,
"and its entrance from the ocean is nearly a mile in width. Avatcha
Mountain is directly in front of the entrance, so that a navigator
entering the bay has little more to do than steer straight towards the
volcano and keep his vessel midway between the two sides of the
entrance. Around the bay there are six or eight little harbors,
completely landlocked. On one of these harbors is Petropavlovsk (Port
of St. Peter and St. Paul), the principal place of trade in Kamtchatka.
Once it had a population of two or three thousand. It was attacked by
the allied fleets in the Crimean War, and suffered severely. After the
war the naval headquarters were removed to Nicolayevsk, at the mouth of
the Amoor."
[Illustration: A HERD OF REINDEER.]
"There is an interesting bit of history connected with the attack upon
Petropavlovsk," Mr. Hegeman remarked, as the Doctor paused.
"In the autumn of 1854 a combined fleet of six English and French ships
attacked Petropavlovsk, and were twice beaten off by some land batteries
and a Russian frigate moored in the harbor. Their commanders determined
to make an assault by land with a strong force of sailors and marines.
They attempted to take the town in the rear, but the Russian
sharp-shooters created a panic among them, and drove the assailants over
a steep bank about two hundred feet high.
"The English admiral committed suicide in consequence of his
disappointment, and the fleet sailed away. Next year seventeen ships
came there together, as the allies had determined to conquer the town at
all hazards. The Russians abandoned the place and retired over the
hills, but they left five or six hundred dogs behind them. The allied
fleet remained at anchor for an entire day without venturing to land,
as it was supposed that there must be a very large garrison to keep so
many dogs."
"The baying of the dogs kept them at bay," whispered Frank to Fred.
"Yes," replied the latter, "kept them anchored in the bay."
"There was only one man, an American merchant, in the place when the
allies landed. He remained to protect his own property, and had the
American flag above his establishment. The allies burned all of the
Government buildings and stores, but did not injure anything else."
Frank asked how they happened to have so many dogs in a small place like
this.
"Dogs are the beasts of burden of the country," was the reply, "and
without them the people would have much difficulty in getting about. The
dogs of Kamtchatka are much like the Eskimo dogs in appearance,
character, and qualities, and are employed for the same purposes. They
draw sledges over the snow and ice in winter, and are capable of great
speed and endurance. With a light load they can travel fifty miles a day
for a week or more, and on some occasions they have been known to make a
single trip of one hundred miles and more without resting. They are
harnessed in pairs with a leader, and a team consists of anywhere from
three to twenty-one dogs. A great deal depends on the leader, and he is
always chosen from among the most intelligent of the dogs. An ordinary
dog is worth from five to ten dollars, while a leader readily brings
from forty to fifty dollars.
[Illustration: DOG TEAMS AND REINDEER.]
"The best travelling I ever heard of with a dog-team," continued Mr.
Hegeman, "was when a courier was sent to carry to Petropavlovsk the
announcement of the Crimean War. Without changing teams he went from
Boltcheresk to Petropavlovsk (one hundred and twenty-five miles) in
twenty-three hours!"
One of the youths asked what the dogs lived upon.
"They live almost entirely upon fish," was the reply, "and they eat it
in any condition--fresh, dried, or half decayed. Salmon are very
abundant in Kamtchatka, and the cheapest thing for feeding the dogs. One
fish a day is the ordinary allowance for a dog; but while he is on a
journey he receives only half his usual ration. The natives all say that
these animals travel better half fed than when fully nourished, and many
persons do not give them anything whatever for an entire day before they
are to start on a journey."
Many anecdotes about the dogs of Kamtchatka were given, and Frank and
Fred were so interested in the subject that they forgot to note down
what was said. When questioned about it afterwards, Frank said he
learned that it requires much experience to drive a dog-team; that the
man who is to drive must feed his own dogs and make them know he is
their master; that they will run away whenever they have the
opportunity; and they have a treacherous, thieving disposition. They are
brave in large numbers, but always cowardly when alone. Epidemics among
them are frequent, and sometimes whole tribes of natives are thus
deprived of their dogs and unable to move about.
"For further canine particulars," said Frank, "we refer you to 'The
Voyage of the _Vivian_ to the North Pole and Beyond.' The youths who
made that remarkable journey had considerable practical experience with
dogs, and they personally visited Kamtchatka on their way to the Pole."
"Kamtchatka has about seven thousand inhabitants altogether," said Mr.
Hegeman. "Twelve or fifteen hundred are Russians, and the rest belong to
aboriginal tribes. They are chiefly engaged in hunting and fishing;
there is very little agriculture in the country, as the climate is too
cold to permit the cultivation of grain or garden vegetables. Kamtchatka
is chiefly useful for its fur products. Five or six thousand sables are
killed there every year, and considerable numbers of ermine, foxes, and
other fur-bearing animals. Bears are numerous and dangerous, and so are
wolves, which are very fierce in winter, though not at all troublesome
in the summer-time. Earthquakes are not unfrequent in Kamtchatka, but
they do little damage, and are looked upon more as amusements than
anything else.
[Illustration: LIGHT-HOUSE AT GHIJIGHA.]
"From Kamtchatka I went in a ship to Ghijigha, on the Okhotsk Sea,"
continued Mr. Hegeman. "Ghijigha is very much like Petropavlovsk, and
has the same sort of population--a mixture of Cossacks, peasants, and
natives. It is at the head of a narrow bay, and its light-house is
nothing more than an octagonal hut with a fire on the roof. Many of the
inhabitants are the descendants of exiles who were sent to the country
down to about the middle of this century.
[Illustration: ERMINE-TRAP.]
"In the time of Catherine the Great, many Poles were sent to Kamtchatka,
and it is a curious circumstance that the first voyage from that country
to a foreign port was made under the Polish flag. Several Poles seized a
small ship in the harbor and put to sea. They had no nautical knowledge,
and no instruments for navigation, but managed to reach Loo Choo, and
afterwards the port of Macao, in safety.
"At Ghijigha there were more dogs and more fish. I had my choice to go
by land to the mouth of the Amoor River, or by sea. I chose the latter
course; if I had gone by land I should have divided my time between
riding on reindeer, riding after dogs, or going on foot."
Fred thought it would be very nice to ride on a reindeer, and earnestly
wished he could try it.
[Illustration: INTERIOR OF A NATIVE HOUSE.]
"I think a very short trial would satisfy you," replied Mr. Hegeman; "at
any rate it was enough for me. You have a saddle which is simply a pad
without stirrups, and must maintain your balance by means of a stick
that you rest on the ground as the animal walks. An inexperienced man
falls off a dozen times an hour for the first few days, and even old
travellers get a good many tumbles in the course of twenty-four hours.
The saddle is directly over the shoulders of the beast, as it would
break his back if placed where we ordinarily put the saddle on a horse.
Consequently you are shaken at every footstep--an excellent thing for a
dyspeptic, but not agreeable to a man in good health.
[Illustration: THE REINDEER.]
"Between the Okhotsk Sea and the Arctic Ocean the wealth of the country
is in reindeer. Some natives own as many as forty thousand of these
animals, and herds of a thousand or more are not at all rare. The
natives wander from place to place in search of pasturage. In summer the
deer eat the mosses and shrubbery that spring up all over the country,
and in winter they scrape away the snow to feed on the moss beneath it.
The native uses the reindeer to ride upon or to draw his sledge; he eats
the flesh of the animal, and makes clothing and tent-covering of his
skin. In fact he cannot get along without the reindeer any more than
could the native of Newfoundland exist without the codfish.
"But I was willing to let the natives have a monopoly of the reindeer
for riding purposes, and took passage in a ship for the Amoor River.
"The Amoor is the greatest river of Siberia, and flows into the Pacific
Ocean. It is navigable twenty-three hundred miles from its mouth, and
receives several important streams from the south. In one part of its
course it makes a great bend to the south, where it flows through
magnificent forests containing several trees peculiar to the tropics.
The tiger roams up to the south bank of the river at this point, and the
reindeer comes down to it on the north; occasionally the tiger crosses
the river and feeds upon the reindeer--the only place in the world where
these two animals come together naturally."
"What a funny idea!" exclaimed Frank. "To think of tigers in Siberia!"
"Tigers are found elsewhere in Siberia," continued their informant. "In
the museum at Barnaool, in the Altai Mountains, I saw the skins of two
large tigers that were killed in a Siberian farm-yard not far from that
place, where they had come to kill one of the farmer's oxen.
Tiger-hunting is a regular sport with the Russian officers in that part
of Manjouria belonging to Siberia, and over a considerable part of the
region bordering upon China and Persia. But to return to the Amoor.
[Illustration: FISH-MARKET AT NICOLAYEVSK.]
"I remained several days at Nicolayevsk, the capital of the Maritime
Province of Siberia, and a place of considerable importance. From there
I ascended the river on a Russian steamboat, passing through the country
of several tribes of people. There were Goldees, Gilyaks, and Manyargs,
and others whose names would be like Greek to you, and therefore I will
not bother you to remember them. They live by hunting and fishing, and
have permanent villages on the banks of the river, in places where the
fishing is best. In the fishing season they always have large quantities
of fish hung out to dry, and consequently you can generally smell a
native village before you see it.
[Illustration: SCENERY ON THE AMOOR.]
"The boat landed near a Gilyak village, and I went to see how the
natives lived. They were not particularly civil; in fact they hardly
recognized our presence, but kept at work in the preparation of the
morning's catch of fish as though nobody was looking on. There were a
dozen or more wolfish-looking dogs, and we came near being bitten by the
brutes. The natives made a pretence of driving the dogs off, but were
not half as earnest as we were on the subject.
[Illustration: GILYAK WOMAN.]
[Illustration: GILYAK MAN.]
"They have some interesting customs and superstitions. They are pagans
in religious matters, and worship idols and animals, and they have a
reverence for the tiger, eagle, bear, and cat. They keep eagles in
cages, and when they can catch a bear or tiger they use him for a
religious ceremony, which ends with the animal being slaughtered. His
flesh is eaten under the impression that it gives strength and courage
to the eaters. They will not allow fire to be carried out of their
houses, through fear of evil consequences, and they formerly had the
custom of killing those who came to visit them. The more amiable he was,
the greater was the chance of his being murdered."
Fred asked how it could be explained.
"Very easily, when you know the reason," was the reply. "They believe
that the spirits of the dead remain where they left the body, and guard
and protect the spot. When a man whom they liked was about to leave,
they did not hesitate to kill him for the sake of retaining his spirit
among them. A Russian priest was killed in this way, and the Government
made the Gilyaks understand that they must put an end to the practice.
[Illustration: NATIVE BOAT--AMOOR RIVER.]
"The Gilyaks have small fields and gardens, and do a little agriculture,
but their great reliance is upon the river, which supplies them with
fish for food and clothing."
"How can fish supply clothing?" Frank asked, with a look of surprise.
"Easily enough," was the reply. "The Gilyaks and other people of the
Amoor take the skins of fishes, beat them till the scales fall off,
dress them with oil till they are pliable, and then fashion them into
garments. I have seen some very good coats and jackets made of
fish-skins. The prettiest Gilyak girl I saw (and she had no great beauty
to boast of) wore a coat of fish-skin that was gathered closely in at
the neck and held around the waist by a girdle. A few yards away you
couldn't distinguish it from cloth.
[Illustration: GOLDEE CHILDREN.]
"The Gilyaks row their boats by pulling alternately on the oars, while
the Goldees, who are higher up the river, pull the oars simultaneously.
The houses of the Goldees are superior in every way to those of the
Gilyaks. They are warmed by means of wooden pipes passing beneath
benches on three sides of the room, and serving as seats by day and beds
at night. Like the Gilyaks, the Goldees live chiefly by fishing, but
they give more attention to agriculture, and many of them have cows and
horses. One day we passed a village where a large fleet of boats was
engaged in fishing for salmon and sturgeon. Two men tried a race with
the steamboat, and fairly beat us for a short distance, though we were
making nine or ten miles against the current.
"The Russians have established villages along the Amoor at intervals of
twenty or thirty miles, where the steamboats are supplied with wood.
Some of these villages are close to the native ones, and the people live
in perfect harmony. At one of our stopping-places I suggested that I
would like to see the inside of a Goldee house, and the captain kindly
accompanied me to the native village.
[Illustration: A GOLDEE MAN AND WOMAN.]
"Guided by a Russian peasant, we picked our way among the drying fish,
and reached the door. It was quite late in the evening, and all the
people had gone to sleep. With some difficulty we roused the owner of
the place, and persuaded him to admit us. Our guide carried a torch of
birch bark, and as he held it aloft the sight revealed to us was a
strange one.
"Twenty or thirty persons were asleep on the benches, or huddled
together to stare at the intruders. The captain explained that the
Goldees keep their houses very warm, and sleep with little clothing; and
certainly it did not seem as if the whole party had bedding enough for
one-quarter their number. There was a smouldering fire in the middle of
the room, a large kettle, set in brickwork, was at one side, and the
rafters were hung with nets and fishing implements. A vicious-looking
dog stood growling in front of us, and needed only a word from his
master to turn his growls into bites. I had no inclination to stay long,
particularly as the atmosphere was by no means pure, and it did not seem
exactly polite to rouse a gentleman in the night and compel him to open
his house simply to gratify a stranger's curiosity.
"For a thousand miles or more the Amoor forms the dividing line between
Russia and China, the former country being on the northern bank, and the
latter on the southern. There is a Chinese town of some twenty thousand
inhabitants at one point, and smaller towns and villages both above and
below it.
"The whole valley of the Amoor was in the possession of the Chinese
until 1853, when it was conquered by the Russians in a campaign that
lasted less than two months, and was unaccompanied with loss of life.
General Mouravieff, then Governor-general of Eastern Siberia, organized
an expedition and sent it down the river in boats. The Chinese were
wholly unprepared for it, and the Russians had everything their own
way. Then colonists were sent to form the villages I have mentioned,
and Russia was so firmly established that she could not be disturbed.
"And now, as you have doubtless studied the geography of Asia, will you
tell me how the Amoor is formed?"
[Illustration: INAUGURATION OF GENGHIS KHAN.]
"Certainly," answered Fred. "It is formed by the rivers Argoon and
Shilka, just as the Ohio is formed by the Alleghany and Monongahela. The
Argoon comes in from the south, and the Shilka from the north. Genghis
Khan was born in the valley of the Argoon, and the armies that went to
the Tartar conquest of Europe were originally mustered on the banks of
that stream."
[Illustration: JUNCTION OF THE ARGOON AND SHILKA TO FORM THE AMOOR.]
"The answer is correct," was the reply. "The spot where the rivers unite
is called '_Oust-strelka_' ("Arrow-mouth"), owing to the shape of the
tongue of land between the streams. The scenery is interesting, as the
banks of the Argoon are steep, and the hills as far as one can see them
are covered to their summits with dense forests.
"Our steamboat turned into the Shilka, and, after making a few
unimportant landings, finished its voyage at Stratensk, twenty-three
hundred miles above Nicolayevsk. The river voyage was at an end, and
from this point to St. Petersburg was a land journey of five thousand
miles. Horse-power was to be my mode of conveyance for more than four
thousand miles--a prospect by no means pleasant.
"It was about the middle of October when I arrived at Stratensk, and
bade farewell to river navigation in Siberia. By the advice of Russian
friends I planned to go to Irkutsk, the capital of Eastern Siberia,
before the snows fell, and there wait for the winter roads to become
good enough for sledging.
"Irkutsk is about fourteen hundred miles from Stratensk, and there is a
good wagon-road--at least it is called good in Siberia--connecting the
two points. The road makes a detour around the southern end of Lake
Baikal, and quite a distance is saved by crossing the lake on a steamer.
I was told that I might have to wait a day or two to connect with the
steamer, as it is not very regular in its movements.
"I had made the acquaintance of a Russian officer while ascending the
Amoor, and long before reaching Stratensk it was arranged that we would
travel together to the first provincial capital, where I intended
stopping a few days. There I hoped to find some one else who was going
in my direction, and thus would have the advantages of the companionship
of some one who knew the language, and also to share the expense. It
costs no more for two persons than for one, as the hire of horses and
carriages is just the same, exactly as when you hire a cab in London or
New York.
[Illustration: SCENE IN A POSTING STATION.]
"From one end of Siberia to the other there is a post-road, with
stations from ten to twenty miles apart, and there are similar roads
leading from the great route to the towns north and south. A traveller
must have a _paderojnia_, or road-pass, which he obtains from the Chief
of Police at his starting-point. He pays at the rate of half a cent a
mile for this road-pass, and it entitles him to the number of horses
named in the document. For these horses he pays a rate fixed by law,
usually two cents a mile for each horse. Ordinarily a traveller can get
along comfortably with two horses, but if the roads are bad, three, and
sometimes more, are necessary."
Frank asked if the horses must be paid for at the time the paderojnia is
taken.
"Not at all," was the reply. "The money is paid at each station to the
_smotretal_, or station-master. It is paid in advance, or may be given
to the driver at the end of the ride."
"A stranger must run a great risk of being cheated," said Fred; "the
station-master could make the distance out much greater than it really
is, and thus turn a dishonest penny very often."
"By no means can he do so," Mr. Hegeman answered, "if the stranger is on
his guard. At every station there is an official certificate framed and
hung up, showing the distance to the next station in both directions;
the most enterprising efforts of the smotretal to cheat the traveller
can be frustrated by a study of this document.
"And now for the means of conveyance," continued Mr. Hegeman. "Every
station is required to keep a certain number of horses and drivers, and
it must also have a stipulated number of wheeled carriages for summer,
and sledges for winter use. The wheeled carriage is called a _telega_;
it is a rough sort of a wagon on wooden springs, and gives a great deal
of jolting to the mile. A ride of a thousand miles in a telega may be
guaranteed to cure a very bad case of dyspepsia or kill the patient, and
in some cases it might do both. The horses are driven at a breakneck
speed, and the traveller finds himself tossed from side to side till he
is bruised like a rolled orange. The telega is changed, along with the
horses, at every station; the traveller and his baggage must be
transferred, as the carriage and horses return to the station whence
they came."
"It must be very disagreeable to make these changes," remarked one of
the youths, "especially at night or in a storm."
[Illustration: A TARANTASSE.]
"It is, indeed," was the reply; "and to obviate this the Russians have a
vehicle called a _tarantasse_, which is larger, better made, and in
every way more comfortable than the telega. A traveller going on a long
journey, and able to afford the expense, buys a tarantasse at starting,
and sells it at the end of his ride. He thus avoids the necessity of
changing at every station; and if he has a servant to attend to the
payments and other matters, he can sleep through the night with
comparative comfort.
"We started from Stratensk in a telega, as we could not find a
tarantasse for sale or hire, and changed at the next station. Luckily
for us, the smotretal had a tarantasse, which we hired as far as
Stratensk, about sixty miles from our starting-point. It was old, and
somewhat rickety, but it was better than nothing at all, and we gladly
engaged it.
"There are three classes of paderojnia for the Russian post-roads. The
highest is for Government couriers and great officials; the second for
officials not on Government business; and the third for civilian
travellers. My companion had a courier's pass, while I had a paderojnia
of the second class; consequently his was the best to use.
"A traveller with a courier's pass is never detained for want of
horses, while others must take their chances. The second-class passport
takes precedence over the third, and in a very summary way at times.
"Suppose Smith has a second-class paderojnia, and Jones one of the third
class. Smith reaches a station and finds Jones with a team ready to
start. If there are no more horses, the station-master detaches Jones's
horses and gives them to Smith; Jones must wait until he can be
supplied; it may be an hour, a day, or a week.
[Illustration: CHANGING HORSES AT A SIBERIAN STATION.]
"Three horses must always be kept ready for couriers, and the changes
made very quickly. If all the horses belonging to a station are out when
a lower-class traveller arrives, he must wait till a team returns and
has rested. If he is willing to pay something extra rather than wait, he
can be accommodated; the smotretal will obtain horses from the villagers
at whatever advance on the regular price that he thinks the traveller
will stand. Here is where the station-master has a chance to make
something, and he usually makes it.
"The horses are small and shaggy, but they are capable of great speed
and endurance. They are never blanketed, even in the coldest weather,
and their hair is thick and soft like the fur of a fox. Sometimes they
kept up a steady gallop from one station to another, and did not seem to
suffer by the speed. Frequently they travelled ten miles an hour, and
when we were going down hill they did better than that. The way to go
from one hill to another is to dash down the slope and across the level
at full gallop, and thus obtain an impetus for mounting the next. Many
of the hollows have corduroy bridges over the little streams that flow
through them, and when we crossed these bridges at full gallop the
tarantasse or telega received a very lively shaking."
Turning to Doctor Bronson, Mr. Hegeman suggested that the former should
tell the youths about the search in Siberia for Sir John Franklin and
his crew.
The Doctor smiled as he recalled the story, which he gave with a
preliminary explanation:
"The Russians apply the term 'equipage' to any kind of vehicle, whether
on wheels or runners. The same word is used in Russian as in French to
denote the crew of a ship.
"A few years after the disappearance of Sir John Franklin, the English
Admiralty requested the Russian Government to ascertain if any traces of
that officer and his party had been found on the coast of Siberia. A
general order was sent to all officials in Siberia to make inquiries
about the 'English Captain John Franklin and his equipage.' In due time
came reports that nothing could be found, except in a single instance,
where a petty official wrote as follows:
"'I have made the proper inquiries. I can learn nothing about the
English captain, John Franklin, but in one of my villages there is an
old sleigh that no one claims, and perhaps it is his equipage.'"
[Illustration: THE RIGHT OF WAY IN RUSSIA.]
"To return to the road," said Mr. Hegeman, when the laugh created by the
story had subsided. "We carried one, and sometimes two bells on the yoke
of our shaft-horse, to indicate that we were travelling by post; every
humbler vehicle was required to give us not only half but the whole of
the road--at any rate, it was expected to do so. Sometimes we had it,
and sometimes we did not; if the drivers of the approaching vehicles
were awake they usually turned out, but very often they were asleep, and
their horses had their own way. When this happened, our driver brought
his whip-lash heavily across the sleeper as he passed him. The driver of
a post-carriage has the right to thrash a common driver who does not get
out of his way, and rarely lets the opportunity pass."
Fred suggested that in this way he probably obtained some revenge for
the kicks and cuffs he received from his superiors. The rest of the
party assented to the idea of the youth. Doctor Bronson remarked that
the most cruel of the slave-drivers of the Southern States of America in
former times were the negro slaves who were placed in authority over
their fellows, and he thought the same rule held good throughout the
world in general.
[Illustration: GETTING OUT OF DIFFICULTY.]
"It had been raining before we arrived at Stratensk, and consequently we
found a great deal of mud on the roads. Several times we were mired, and
had to send to neighboring farm-houses for additional horses, and twice
we removed all our baggage and put our own shoulders to the wheel to get
out of trouble. One of these performances was during a shower, and did
not improve our condition or temper. I was ready to vote Siberian
travelling a first-class nuisance, and felt downhearted at the immense
distance that lay between me and the railway-station at Nijni Novgorod.
"To make things worse, our Cossack servant had placed our pillows and
blankets on the wet ground, and piled heavy baggage on top. For this
stupidity my companion, the captain, remonstrated in very strong
language, but all that he said could not dry our property. At the next
station we stopped for dinner; while we were eating our meal the
dampened articles were somewhat improved by being placed in front of the
kitchen fire.
"Once while descending a hill at full speed a wheel of the tarantasse
came off, but no damage was done beyond bringing us to a very sudden
stop. The two axles of the vehicle were about twelve feet apart, and
connected by a pair of stout poles which had a great deal of 'spring' in
them. Properly made, a tarantasse is by no means an uncomfortable
vehicle to ride in, provided, of course, you are travelling over good
roads."
"What did you get for dinner at the station?" Frank asked.
"We had the _samovar_, with some tea and sugar, from our own stock, and
then we had boiled eggs and bread. They had some cold mutton, of which I
ate liberally, as I had an appetite like a tiger, but my friend would
hardly touch it. He told me that mutton was rarely eaten by the
Russians, and during my journey through Siberia I do not remember seeing
it on the table, except in a few of the way-side stations. This was all
the more singular when there were great flocks of sheep in the country
where we were travelling. The sheep belong principally to the Bouriats,
a Mongol people who were the occupants of the country before the
Russians went there.
"Eggs and bread are the only articles of food you can rely upon getting
at the stations, and sometimes even the eggs are wanting. Bread is made
from rye flour rather than from wheat, and its complexion is darker than
that of the Boston brown bread of America. It is the bread of the
peasant from one end of the Empire to the other, and a good many of the
nobility prefer it to white bread. For my own part I never liked the
black bread of Russia, but often ate it for lack of anything else.
"Up hill and down dale we went, and on the second morning of our journey
the broad and beautiful valley of the Nertcha River lay before us. Two
or three miles above the point where the Nertcha joins the Shilka lies
the town of Nertchinsk, a well-built place with five or six thousand
inhabitants. It has an air of wealth and solidity, and large fortunes
have been made there by men interested in gold-mining. We entered the
town through an arched gate-way, and drove to the house of a rich
gold-miner with whom my friend was well acquainted. Hardly had we thrown
off our wrappings before the _samovar_ was steaming on the table. We
were urged to stay to dinner, and, much to my satisfaction, the
invitation was accepted by my companion."
"Haven't I read about Nertchinsk as a place of exile?" said one of the
youths.
"Quite likely you have," was the answer. "Nertchinsk and its gold-mines
have a prominent place in the history of Siberian exile. Would you like
to hear about it?"
"Of course we would," the youths eagerly responded. It was agreed that
the journey through Siberia should be suspended until the new subject
was disposed of.
[Illustration: VALLEY OF THE AMOOR ABOVE OUK-SE-ME.]