th a loud laugh,
and cried out, "Liudi"--"They are people." Coming out from behind the
rocks, I saw clearly that they were. But how came people there? Two
natives, dressed in fur coats and trousers, approached us with violent
gesticulations, shouting to us in Russian not to shoot, and holding
up something white, like a flag of truce. As soon as they came near
enough one of them handed me a wet, dirty piece of paper, with a
low bow, and I recognised him as a Kamchadal from Lesnoi. They were
messengers from the Major! Thanking God in my heart that the other
party was safe, I tore open the note and read hastily:

Sea Shore, 15 versts from Lesnoi, October 4th. Driven ashore here by
the storm. Hurry back as fast as possible.

S. Abaza.

The Kamchadal messengers had left Lesnoi only one day behind us, but
had been detained by the storm and bad roads, and had only reached on
the previous night our second camp. Finding it impossible to cross the
mountains on account of the snow, they had abandoned their horses,
and were trying to reach the Samanka River on foot by way of the sea
beach. They did not expect to do it in one tide but intended to take
refuge on high rocks during the flood, and resume their journey as
soon as the beach should be left bare by the receding water. There was
no time for any more explanations. The tide was running in rapidly,
and we must make twelve miles in a little over an hour, or lose our
horses. We mounted the tired, wet Kamchadals on two of our spare
animals, and were off again at a gallop. The situation grew more
and more exciting as we approached the ravine. At the end of every
projecting bluff the water was higher and higher, and in several
places it had already touched with foam and spray the foot of the
cliffs. In twenty minutes more the beach would be impassable. Our
horses held out nobly, and the ravine was only a short distance
ahead--only one more projecting bluff intervened. Against this the sea
was already beginning to break, but we galloped past through several
feet of water, and in five minutes drew rein at the mouth of the
ravine. It had been a hard ride, but we had won the race with a clear
ten minutes to spare, and were now on the southern side of the snowy
mountain range, less than sixty miles from Lesnoi. Had it not been
for our guide's good sense and boldness we should still have been
floundering through the snow, and losing our way among the bewildering
peaks, ten miles south