ga we reached the native
settlement of Penzhina, two hundred versts from Anadyrsk. Ours was
the first arrival at that place since the previous May, and the whole
population of the village--men, women, children, and dogs--turned out
_en masse_ to meet us, with the most joyful demonstrations. Six months
had elapsed since they last saw a strange face or heard from the
outside world, and they proceeded to fire a salute from half a dozen
rusty old muskets, as a faint expression of their delight.

I had confidently expected when I left Gizhiga that I should meet
somewhere on the road a courier with news and despatches from Bush;
and I was very much disappointed and a little alarmed when I reached
Penzhina to find that no one had arrived at that place from Anadyrsk,
and that nothing had been heard from our party since the previous
spring. I felt a presentiment that something was wrong, because Bush
had been expressly directed to send a courier to Gizhiga by the first
winter road, and it was now late in November.

On the following day my worst anticipations were realised. Late in the
evening, as I was sitting in the house of one of the Russian peasants
drinking tea, the cry was raised that "Anadyrski yaydoot"--"Some one
is coming from Anadyrsk"; and running hastily out of the house I met
the long-haired Anadyrsk priest just as he stepped from his sledge in
front of the door. My first question of course was, "Where's Bush?"
But my heart sank as the priest replied: "Bokh yevo znaiet"--"God
only knows." "But where did you see him last?--Where did he spend the
summer?" I inquired. "I saw him last at the mouth of the Anadyr River,
in July," said the priest, "and since that time nothing has been heard
from him." A few more questions brought out the whole dismal story.
Bush, Macrae, Harder, and Smith had gone down the Anadyr River in June
with a large raft of station-houses, intended for erection along its
banks. After putting up these houses at necessary points, they had
gone on in canoes to Anadyr Bay, to await the arrival of the Company's
vessels from San Francisco. Here the priest had joined them and had
lived with them several weeks; but late in July their scanty supply
of provisions had given out, the expected ships had not come, and the
priest returned to the settlement, leaving the unfortunate Americans
in a half-starving condition at the mouth of the river. Since that
time nothing had been heard from them, and, as the priest