cia_, and this was their
order: (1) the warm; (2) the chilly; and (3) the glacial. The first
stage of comparative comfort was due to the effect of a fire and warm
food and generally lasted for two or three hours. In stage No. 2, one
gradually commenced to feel chilly with shivers down the back and a
sensation of numbness in the extremities. No. 3 stage was one of rapidly
increasing cold, until the face was covered by a thin mask of ice formed
by the breath during the short intervals of sleep, or rather stupor. The
awakening was the most painful part of it all, and when the time came to
stagger into some filthy _stancia_, I would have often preferred to
sleep on in the sled, although such an imprudence might have entailed
the loss of a limb.

At last one bright morning in dazzling sunshine we reached Verkhoyansk,
having made the journey from Yakutsk in eight days, a record trip under
any circumstances, especially so under the adverse conditions under
which we had travelled. I had looked forward to this place as a haven of
warmth and rest, and perhaps of safety from the perilous blizzards that
of late had obstructed our progress, but the sight of that desolate
village, with its solitary row of filthy hovels, inspired such feelings
of aversion and depression that my one object was to leave the place as
soon as possible, even for the unknown perils and privations which might
lie beyond it. It was absolutely necessary, however, to obtain fresh
reindeer here, and a stay of at least a couple of days was compulsory.
What we saw, therefore, and did in Verkhoyansk will be described in the
following chapter.

CHAPTER VI

VERKHOYANSK

Loyal Russians call Verkhoyansk the heart of Siberia. Political exiles
have another name for the place also commencing with the letter H, which
I leave to the reader's imagination. Suffice it to say that it applies
to a locality where the climate is presumably warmer than here. Anyway
the simile is probably incorrect, as there are many worse places of
banishment than Verkhoyansk, although, indeed, the latter is bad enough.
For if prosperous villages near the borders of Europe impress the
untrammelled Briton with a sense of unbearable loneliness, conceive the
feelings of a Russian exile upon first beholding the squalid Arctic home
and repulsive natives amongst whom he is destined, perhaps, to end his
days. Forty or fifty mud-plastered log huts in various stages of decay
and half buried in