d
travelers were alike exhilarated in the sharp atmosphere and we dashed
off at courier pace. The driver was a musical fellow, and endeavored
to sing a Russian ballad while we were galloping over the glistening
snow.

We had a long ride before us. The wide steppe of Baraba, or
Barabinsky, lies between Barnaool and the foot of the Ural mountains.
There was no town where we expected to stop before reaching Tumen,
fifteen hundred versts away. As the luxuries of life are not abundant
on this road we stored our sleighs with provisions, and hoped to add
bread and eggs at the stations. Our farewell dinner was considered a
sufficient preparation for at least a hundred and fifty versts. I
nestled down among the furs and hay which formed my bed, leaned back
upon the pillows and exposed only a few square inches of visage to the
nipping and eager air.

A few versts from town we stuck upon an icy bank where the smooth feet
of our horses could not obtain holding ground. After a while we
attached one horse to a long rope, and enabled him to pull from the
level snow above the bank. I expected the yemshick would ask us to
lighten the sleigh by stepping out of it. An American driver would
have put us ashore without ceremony, but custom is otherwise in
Siberia. Horses and driver are engaged to take the vehicle and its
burden to the next station, and it is the traveler's privilege to
remain in his place in any emergency short of an overturn.

The track was excellent, having been well trodden since the storm. We
followed our former road a hundred versts from Barnaool, and then
turned to the left to strike the great post route near Kiansk. It was
necessary to cross the river Ob, and as we reached the station near it
during the night, we waited for daylight. The ice was sufficiently
thick and firm, but the danger arose from holes and thin places that
could not be readily discovered in the dark. While crossing we met a
peasant who had tumbled into one of these holes, and been fished out
by his friends. He looked unhappy, and no doubt felt so. His garments
were frozen stiff, and altogether he resembled a bronze statue of
Franklin after a freezing rain storm.

[Illustration: AFTER THE BATH.]

The thermometer fell on the first night to fifteen degrees below zero,
and to about -20 deg. just before sunrise. The colder it grew the better
was our speed, the horses feeling the crisp air and the driver being
anxious to complete his stage in the