n three-quarters of an hour in losing two
versts, how long would be we in losing versts enough to get back to
the place from which we started. It was a discouraging problem, and
after several unsuccessful attempts to solve it by the double rule
of three backwards, I gave it up. For the benefit of the future
traveller, I give, however, a few native expressions for distances,
with their numerical equivalents: "cheimuk"--near, twenty versts;
"bolshe nyet"--there is no more, fifteen versts; "sey chas
priyedem"--we will arrive this minute, means any time in the course of
the day or night; and "dailoko"--far, is a week's journey. By bearing
in mind these simple values, the traveller will avoid much bitter
disappointment, and _may_ get through without entirely losing faith in
human veracity. About six o'clock in the evening, tired, hungry, and
half-frozen, we caught sight of the sparks and fire-lit smoke which
arose from the tents of the second encampment, and amid a general
barking of dogs and hallooing of men we stopped among them. Jumping
hurriedly from my sledge, with no thought but that of getting to a
fire, I crawled into the first hole which presented itself, with a
firm belief, founded on the previous night's experience, that it must
be a door. After groping about some time in the dark, crawling over
two dead reindeer and a heap of dried fish, I was obliged to shout for
assistance. Great was the astonishment of the proprietor, who came to
the rescue with a torch, to find a white man and a stranger crawling
around aimlessly in his fish storehouse. He relieved his feelings with
a ty-e-e-e of amazement, and led the way, or rather crawled away, to
the interior of the tent, where I found the Major endeavouring with a
dull Korak knife to cut his frozen beard loose from his fur hood and
open communication with his mouth through a sheet of ice and hair. The
teakettle was soon simmering and spouting over a brisk fire, beards
were thawed out, noses examined for signs of frost-bites, and in half
an hour we were seated comfortably on the ground around a candle-box,
drinking tea and discussing the events of the day.

Just as Viushin was filling up our cups for the third time, the skin
curtain of the low doorway at our side was lifted up, and the most
extraordinary figure which I ever beheld in Kamchatka crawled silently
in, straightened up to its full height of six feet, and stood
majestically before us. It was an ugly, dark-featur