ase she would scarcely come more than a
hundred miles or so west of Bering Straits, and Koliutchin was quite
three times that distance. There is probably no region in the world
more inaccessible than North-Eastern Siberia, and even had the ill-fated
Andre managed to effect a landing, say between Tchaun Bay and the Kolyma
River, he would, unless well supplied with provisions, in my opinion,
have perished.

Near Cape Kyber a huge bear and its cub were seen in the ice off the
island of Shalarof,[54] about three miles from the coast. De Clinchamp,
Stepan and half a dozen dogs at once went in pursuit, less for the sake
of sport than of replenishing our larder, but after an exciting chase
the brute got away, leaving its cub to be devoured by the dogs before
Stepan could secure it, a keen disappointment to us all.[55] We
frequently came across tracks after this, but saw no more bears, which
from everything but a gastronomical point of view was no loss. For there
is no more sport in shooting the polar species than in knocking over a
rook or a rabbit.

[Footnote 54: About three and a half versts north of Cape Kyber there is
a rocky island of two and a half versts in circumference, entirely
surrounded by hummocks. I gave it the name of Shalarof, after the man
whose enterprise, courage, and perseverance, and finally whose death in
these regions, have well deserved that his name should be so
recorded.--"The Polar Sea," by Von Wrangell.]

[Footnote 55: Von Wrangell writes that dogs have a remarkable aversion
to bear's flesh as long as it is warm, but this was not our experience
on this occasion.]

Finally Areni, a large village near Cape North, was reached, and here we
found food in plenty, even some deer-meat, which, although putrid, was
most acceptable. The _kor_, or smallpox, had not visited this place, and
we saw and heard no more of this dread disease eastward of this. From
here on to Cape North villages became more frequent and natives more
friendly. In one place the sight of a San Francisco newspaper filled us
with joy and a pleasant sense of proximity, although it _was_ two years
old. We traced it to an American whaler, for the trade of this coast is
now no longer in Russian hands, but in those of the whaling fleet from
the Golden Gate. At present there is no communication whatsoever between
the Tchuktchis and the Kolyma, as we had already found to our cost.

A hard journey of over two days from here, during which scarc