s, running to and fro of men, and
a scene of general confusion.

At Korak we changed most of our horses and men, ate an _al fresco_
lunch under the projecting eaves of a mossy Kamchadal house, and
started at two o'clock for Malqua, another village, fifty or sixty
miles distant, across the watershed of the Kamchatka River. About
sunset, after a brisk ride of fifteen or eighteen miles, we suddenly
emerged from the dense forest of poplar, birch, and mountain ash which
had shut in the trail, and came out into a little grassy opening,
about an acre in extent, which seemed to have been made expressly with
a view to camping out. It was surrounded on three sides by woods, and
opened on the fourth into a wild mountain gorge, choked up with rocks,
logs, and a dense growth of underbrush and weeds. A clear cold stream
tumbled in a succession of tinkling cascades down the dark ravine, and
ran in a sandy flower-bordered channel through the grassy glade, until
it disappeared in the encircling forest. It was useless to look for
a better place than this to spend the night, and we decided to stop
while we still had daylight. To picket our horses, collect wood for a
fire, hang over our teakettles, and pitch our little cotton tent, was
the work of only a few moments, and we were soon lying at full length
upon our warm bearskins, around our towel-covered candle-box, drinking
hot tea, discussing Kamchatka, and watching the rosy flush of sunset
as it slowly faded over the western mountains.

As I was lulled to sleep that night by the murmuring plash of falling
water, and the tinkling of our horses' bells from the forest behind
our tent, I thought that nothing could be more delightful than camp
life in Kamchatka.

We reached Malqua on the following day, in a generally exhausted
and used-up condition. The road had been terribly rough and broken,
running through narrow ravines blocked up with rocks and fallen trees,
across wet mossy swamps, and over rugged precipitous hills, where we
dared not attempt to ride our horses. We were thrown repeatedly from
our saddles; our provision-boxes were smashed against trees, and wet
through by sinking in swamps; girths gave way, drivers swore, horses
fell down, and we all came to grief, individually and collectively.
The Major, unaccustomed as he was to these vicissitudes of Kamchatkan
travel, held out like a Spartan; but I noticed that for the last ten
miles he rode upon a pillow, and shouted at short int