CHAPTER X

Five days later there was a stir in front of the hospital, and Mikail, whose bed was by the side of the window, raised himself on his elbow and looked out.

"It is a punishment parade," he said; "I expect they are going to flog Koshkin with the plete. No governor of a prison is allowed to do that until the circumstances of the case have been sent to the governor of the province, and the sentence receives his approval; that is no doubt what has caused the delay. All the prisoners are mustering."

Godfrey, who was in the next bed, managed to draw himself on to Mikail's, and then to sit up so as to look out. The whole of the convicts of that prison, some eight hundred in number, were drawn up forming three sides of a square; in front of them, four paces apart, were a line of soldiers with fixed bayonets, while behind was another line. Then Koshkin, stripped to the waist, was brought forward and bound to a thick board having an iron leg, so that when laid down the board inclined to an angle of about thirty degrees. On this he was so strapped as to be perfectly immovable. Then a man approached with the dreaded whip and took his place on one side of the criminal. The governor then entered the square. He was attended by all the prison officials. His face was very grave and stern, and he walked along the lines, scrutinizing closely each man as he passed him. Then he took his place in the centre of the square and held up his hand.

"This man," he said, "has attempted to murder the starosta of his ward, and is for this sentenced to fifty lashes. Let this be a lesson to all here."

Then he signalled to the executioner, who brought down his lash with great force upon the bare back of the prisoner. A terrible cry broke from Koshkin. Two more blows were given, and then the executioner moved to the other side and delivered another three blows. In this way the lashes crossed each other at an angle. Godfrey could look no more, but crawled back on to his own bed. Mikail continued looking out until the punishment was over.

"He has not bled," he said; "he will die."

"How do you mean, Mikail?"

"Well, that is how it is, Ivan. It is as the executioner likes, or as he is ordered. He can, according to the way he strikes, cut the flesh or not each stroke. If it bleeds the man seldom dies, if it doesn't there is little chance for him. There are several ways of flogging the prisoner, and his friends generally bribe the executioner; then he strikes with all his strength the first blow that is terrible, but it seems to numb the flesh somehow, and afterwards he does not strike so hard, and the prisoner hardly feels the blows. The worst is when he hits softly at first and then harder and harder, then the man feels every blow to the end; but they are obliged to hit hard, if not they get flogged themselves. I saw a case where the executioner had been well bribed and, therefore, hit gently, and the prisoner was taken down and he was tied up in his place and got twenty lashes. Years ago they used the plete at all the prisons, now they only use it at three prisons, where the worst criminals are sent, and this is one of them."

A week later they were both discharged from the hospital and returned to the ward. The first thing they heard on entering it was that Koshkin had died the night before. Godfrey went back to his work in the office. He was doubtful how he should be received in the ward, but he found that, except by Kobylin and four or five others, he was welcomed quite cordially.

"You have done us all a service," Osip said. "There was sure to have been trouble sooner or later, and that flogging will cow these fellows for some time. This is only the second there has been since I came here—I mean, of course, at this prison. Besides, Mikail is a good fellow, and we all like him, and everyone would have been sorry if he had been killed."

"What is he in for? I never asked before. Of course, I see that he has the murderer's badge on his back. Do you know how it happened? I never heard him speak of it."

"Yes, he told us about it one evening, that was before he became starosta. Some vodka had been smuggled in and he had more than was good for him, and that opened his lips. He had been a charcoal-burner and having had the good fortune to escape the conscription he married. She was a pretty girl, and it seems that the son of a rich proprietor had taken a fancy to her, and when the next year's conscription came he managed by some unfair means to get Mikail's name put down again on the list. Such things can be done, you know, by a man with influence. Mikail ran away and took to the woods. He was hunted for two or three months in vain. Then someone betrayed him, and one morning he woke up in a hut he had built for himself and saw the place was surrounded by soldiers.

"With the officers was the man who had injured him. Mikail was mad with fury, and rushing out with a big club he had cut he stretched the fellow dead on the ground—and served him right. However, of course Mikail was taken, tried, and condemned. He had killed a noble's son, and three weeks later was on his way to Siberia. His wife has followed him, and is living now in a village two miles away. Another six months and Mikail will have served his ten years, which is the least time a murderer can serve before he gets leave to live outside the prison. He is sure to get it then, his conduct has been always good, and no doubt this affair will count in his favour. His wife came out two years after he was sent here. She keeps herself by spinning and helping at a farm. It has been a good thing for Mikail, for it has kept him straight. If it had not been for that he would have taken to the woods long ago."

"I don't call that a murder," Godfrey said indignantly. "If I had been on the jury I would never have convicted him. He was treated illegally and had the right to resist."

"I don't blame him very much myself," Osip said. "Of course it would have been wiser to have submitted, and then to have tried to get off serving, but I don't suppose anyone would have listened to him. If it hadn't been a noble he killed I have no doubt he would have got off."

"But you are noble yourself, Osip."

"Yes, but that does not give me any marked advantage at present. Of course it will make a difference when I get out. My friends will send me money, and I shall live at Tobolsk and marry some wealthy gold-miner's daughter, and be in the best society. Oh, yes, it is an advantage being noble born, even in Siberia."

Godfrey was quite touched with the joy that Luka manifested when, on his return from work, he found him in the ward. "Ah, my master," he exclaimed, with tears in his eyes, "why did you not tell me that you were watching? I would have kept awake all night and would have thrown myself on that dog; it would have made no matter if he had killed me. It would not have hurt me so much as it did to see you bleeding."

"You must not call me master," Godfrey said, holding out his hand, which the Tartar seized and pressed to his forehead. "You and I are friends, there are no masters here."

Godfrey learnt that every effort had been made by the authorities to discover how Koshkin had obtained the knife, but without success. He must have bribed one of the guards to fetch it in for him, but there was no tracing which had been concerned in the matter. All the prisoners had been searched and their bags examined, but no other weapons had been discovered. Godfrey did not hear a single word of pity for Koshkin, or of regret at his death. Indifference for others was one of the leading characteristics of the prisoners. Although living so long together they seldom appeared to form a friendship of any kind; each man lived for and thought only of his own lot. Godfrey observed that it was very seldom that a prisoner shared any dainty he had purchased with another, and it was only when three or four had clubbed together to get in a ham, a young sucking pig, or some vodka that they were seen to partake of it together.

Some of the prisoners, indeed, scarcely ever exchanged a word with the rest, but moved about in moody silence paying no attention to what was going on around them. Some again were always quarrelling, and seemed to take a delight in stirring up others by giving them unpleasant nicknames, or by turning them into ridicule.

"I am glad indeed, Mikail," Godfrey said, as he lay down beside the starosta that night, "that you were not seriously hurt. I only heard to-day that you had a wife waiting for you outside."

"Yes, it is true," Mikail replied. "I never talk of her. I dare not even let myself think of her, it seems too great a happiness to be true; and something may occur, one never knows. Ah, Ivan, if it had not been for you what news would have been taken to her! Think of it, after her long journey out here; after waiting ten years for me, to hear that it was useless. I tremble like a leaf when I think of it. That night I lay awake all night and cried like a young child, not for myself, you know, but for her. She has taken a cottage already, and is furnishing it with her savings. She is allowed to write to me, you know, once every month. At first it was every three months. What happiness it was to me when my first five years was up and she could write once a month! Do you think I shall know her? She will have changed much. I tell myself that always; and I—I have changed much too, but she will know me, I am sure she will know me. I tremble now at the thought of our meeting, Ivan; but I ought not to talk so, I ought not to speak to you of my happiness—you, who have no friend waiting to see you."

"I like to hear you talk of your wife, Mikail. My friends are a long way off indeed; but I hope that I shall see them before very long."

"You think that you may be pardoned?" Mikail asked.

"No, I mean to escape."

"Ah, lad," Mikail said kindly, "I don't suppose there is ever a prisoner comes here who does not say to himself, I will escape. Every spring there are thousands who take to the woods, and scarce one of these but hopes never to see the inside of a prison again, and yet they come back, every one of them."

"But there have been escapes, Mikail, therefore there is nothing impossible in it."

"There are twenty thousand convicts cross the frontier every year, lad. There is not one man makes his escape in five years."

"Well, I mean to be the man this five years, Mikail."

"I would not try if I were you. Were you in on a life sentence for murder, or still worse, as a political prisoner, I would say try if you like, for you would have nothing to lose; but you have a good prospect now. I am sure you must have been a political, but now that you have been a wanderer you are so no longer. You have won the governor's good-will, and as soon as your time is up, perhaps before, you will be allowed to live outside the prison. If you go away in the spring you will, when you return as winter comes on, forfeit all this, and have to begin again. When you come out there will be my little hut ready for you, and such a welcome from my wife and me that you will forget how small and rough it is, and there you will live with us till your five years are up, and you can go anywhere you like in Siberia."

"I thank you sincerely, Mikail, and I should, I am sure, be as happy as an exile could be with you and your faithful wife; but if I have to try afresh every year for twenty years I will break out and strive to escape. You know that I am English by my mother's side. I can tell you now that I am altogether English, and I will gain England or die. At any rate, if it is to be done I will do it. I have health and strength and determination. I have learnt all that there is to be learnt as to the difficulties of the journey. I have more to gain, more to strive for than other prisoners. Even if they escape they cannot return home. They must still be exiled from Russia; must earn their bread among strangers as they are earning it here. I have a home awaiting me—a father, mother, and sisters—to whom I shall come back as one from the grave. Why, man, the difficulties are nothing in comparison to the reward. A journey across Asia is as nothing to the journeys many of my countrymen have made across Africa. Here there is no fear of fever, of savage tribes, or savage beasts. It is in comparison a mere pleasure excursion. I may not succeed next time, just as I did not succeed last year, but succeed in the end I will."

"I believe you," Mikail said earnestly, infected by Godfrey's enthusiasm. "Did you not overthrow, as if he were a babe, Kobylin, whom everyone else feared? Yes, if anyone can do it you can."

At last the long winter was over, the thaw came, and the work at the mine was renewed. Godfrey was afraid that he might be still kept in the office, and he spoke to Mikail on the subject; the latter spoke to one of the officials, and told him that the prisoner Ivan Holstoff petitioned that he might be again put to work on the mine instead of being kept in the office, as he felt his health suffering from the confinement. Two days later Godfrey was called into the governor's room.

"I hear that you have asked to go to the mine again, lad."

"Yes, sir; I like active work better than sitting indoors all day."

The colonel looked at him keenly. "You are doing well here, lad; it will be a pity to have to begin over again. I can guess what is in your thoughts. Think it over, lad, don't do anything rash; but if—," and he hesitated, "if you are headstrong and foolish, remember you will be better off here than elsewhere, and that I am never very hard on runaways. That will do; you will go out again with the gang to-morrow."

"Thank you, sir," Godfrey said earnestly, and with a bow returned to his work at the desk in the next room.

On the following day work at the mine was resumed. Godfrey at once began his preparations for his flight, and as a first step managed to conceal under a lump of rock a heavy hammer and a pick used in the work; he had already laid in a stock of a dozen boxes of matches. The next evening he said to Mikail when they had lain down for the night,—

"Now, Mikail, I want you to help me."

"So you really mean to go?"

"Yes, my mind is quite made up. I want you to get me in some things from outside."

"I will get you anything if you will tell me what you want."

"I want most of all two long knives."

"Yes, knives are useful," Mikail said; "but they are awkward things to get. I dare not ask any of the people who trade here to get such a thing. Ah! I know what I will do; I am losing my head. I will steal you two from the kitchen; but that must be done the last thing, for if knives were missed there would be a great search for them. What is the next thing?"

"I should like a coil of thirty or forty yards of fine rope, and some string. They are always useful things to have."

"That is so," the convict assented.

"Then I shall want some thread and needles."

"There is no difficulty about that; I can buy them for you at the gate. I don't know what excuse to make to get you the rope, but I will think of something."

"I don't think there is anything else, except that I should like these twenty roubles changed into kopecks."

The man nodded. "When will you try?"

"To-morrow. It is dark now by the time we leave off work; it will be easy to slip away then. Luka is going with me."

"That is good," Mikail said, "he will be very useful; he is a good little fellow, and will be faithful to you. You had best keep steadily west, and give yourself up at Irkutsk. It is a rough road working round by the north of Lake Baikal; but you had better take that way, it is safer than by the south. But no doubt if you are careful you might go that way too. Then the summer after, if you can get away again, you can give up at Tomsk. Once fairly away from here there is no fear of your being overtaken; they never take the trouble to hunt the woods far, they know it is of no use. Remember, as long as you don't go too far from the road, you will light upon cottages and little farm-houses where you can get something to eat; but if you go too far into the woods you may starve. There will be no berries except strawberries yet, and strawberries are not much use to keep life together when you are travelling."

"Oh, by the by, there is one more thing I want you to get for me if possible, and that is fish-hooks and line."

"That is difficult," Mikail said; "however, a rouble or two will go a long way. But you must put off your start for another two or three days. The rope and the hooks will need time to get."

It was, indeed, the fourth evening before Mikail told Godfrey that he had got everything except the knives. "I will manage to get these in the morning," he said, "when I go into the kitchen and see about breakfast. If I were you, I would put on those two spare shirts over the one you wear, and take your three spare pairs of stockings. Of course you will wind the rope round your waist. I suppose you will buy bread from the others, there are always plenty ready to sell; you had better take enough for two or three days. Cut it in slices, put them inside your upper shirt with the other things you take, your belt will keep them safe. Don't try to slip away unless you see a really good opportunity; it is no use being shot at. Besides, with those irons on your legs, they would soon overtake you. Better put it off for another time than to run any risk."

Godfrey at once informed Luka that they were to try to escape on the following evening, told him to put on his spare shirts at night, gave him the matches, and told him to stow away in the morning as much bread as he could carry. The young Tartar made no reply beyond a pleasant nod; his confidence in his companion was unbounded. The next morning, while eating their breakfasts by the dim light of a candle, Mikail passed close to Godfrey and slipped two long knives into his hand; these he hid instantly inside his shirt.

"I have got the bread," Mikail said; "it was better for me to buy it than you. I have put it under your bag."

As it was quite dark in the corner of the room Godfrey had no difficulty in cutting up the hunks of bread, and concealing them without observation. Mikail strolled up while he was so engaged. Godfrey had already given him money for the various purchases, and he now pressed a hundred-rouble note into his hand, and said:

"Now, Mikail, you must take this from me; it is not a present to you, but to your brave wife. When you get out you will want to do your share towards making the house she has got for you comfortable. Till you get your free ticket you will still be working in the mines like the others; and though you will get the same pay as free labourers then, it will be some time before you can lay much by. When your term is over you will want to take up a piece of land and farm, and you must have money for this until your crops grow."

"I will not take it," the man said huskily; "it is a hundred roubles. I would not rob you; you will want every kopeck you have. The money would be a curse to me."

"I have five hundred still left, Mikail, which will be ample for me. You will grieve me if you refuse to take it. It will be pleasant to me, whether I am taken again or whether I escape, to think that I have made one home happier for my stay here, and that you and your brave wife, in your comfortable home, think sometimes of the young fellow you were kind to."

"If you wish it I will take it," Mikail said. "Feodora and I will pray before the ikon to the saints morning and night to protect you wherever you may be."

"Pray for me as Godfrey Bullen, Mikail; that is my real name. I am English, and it is to England I shall make my way."

"Godfrey Bullen," the man repeated four or five times over. "I shall not forget it. Feodora and I will teach it to our children if the good God should send us any."

"I should like to let you know if I get safely home," Godfrey said; "how can I write to you?"

"I can receive letters when I am out of prison," Mikail said. "You know my name, Mikail Stomoff; put Karoff, that is the name of the village my wife lives at—Karoff, near Kara. If the letter does not come until my term is over, and I have left, I will leave word there where it can be forwarded to me."

"I hope that you will get it long before that, Mikail. The journey is too long to do in one summer. I shall winter somewhere in the north, and I hope to be in England by the following autumn; therefore, if I have got safely away, you may look for a letter before the Christmas after next. If it does not come by that time, you will know that I have failed in my first attempt, and then you will, I hope, get one a year later. I shall, of course, be careful what I say; in case it should be opened and read, there will be nothing in it about your knowing that I intended to escape."

"We shall look for it, Godfrey Bullen, we shall look for it always, and pray the good God to send it to us."

The next morning when Godfrey rose he wrung Mikail's hand warmly.

"God bless you," the starosta said with tears in his eyes. "I shall not come near you again; they would see that something was strange with me, and when you were missing, would guess that I knew you were going. May all the saints preserve you."

Before they formed up to march to their work, Godfrey shook hands with his friend Osip. "I am going to try on our way back to-night," he said.

"Good-bye, and good luck to you," Osip replied. "I would go with you if I was in for life; but I have lost two years already by running away, and I dare not try again."

During the day Godfrey observed very carefully the spot where he had hidden the tools, so that he might be able to find it in the dark, piling three small stones one on the top of the other by the roadside at the point nearest to it. When work was over, he managed to fall in with Luka at the rear of the line. A Cossack marched alongside of him.

"Five roubles," Godfrey whispered, "if you will let us drop behind."

Five roubles was a large sum to the soldier. The life of the guards was really harder than that of the prisoners, except that they did no work, for they had to mount guard at night when the convicts slept, and their rations were much more scanty than those given to the working convicts, and they were accustomed to eke out their scanty pay by taking small bribes for winking at various infractions of the prison rules. The Cossack at once held out his hand. Godfrey slipped five rouble notes into it. They kept on till they reached a wood, where beneath the shadow of the trees it was already perfectly dark.

The Cossack had stepped forward two or three paces and was walking by the next couple.

"Now, Luka," Godfrey said, and the two sprang off the path among the trees. They waited two or three minutes, then returned to the road and hurried back to the mine. They had been the last party to start for the prison, and the place was quite deserted. It took them fully half an hour to find the tools. The rings round their ankles were sufficiently loose to enable the pick to be inserted between them and the leg; thrusting it in as far as it would go under the rivet, it was comparatively easy work to break off the head with the hammer. In ten minutes both were free. Leaving the chains and tools behind them, they made their way out of the cutting and struck across the country, and in an hour entered the forest. It was too dark here to permit them to proceed farther; they lay down and slept until day began to break, and then continued their way up the rising ground until, after four hours' walking, they were well among the mountains. They found an open space by the side of a rivulet where the wild strawberries grew thickly, and here they sat down and enjoyed a hearty meal of bread and strawberries.

"Now we have got to keep along on this side of that range of mountains in front of us till we get to Lake Baikal," Godfrey said. "We will push on for a day or two, and then we must find some cottages, and get rid of these clothes. What we want above all things, Luka, are guns."

"Yes, or bows and arrows," Luka said.

"It would be as difficult to get them as guns. They don't use them in these parts, Luka."

"I can make them," Luka said; "not as good as the Ostjaks' bows, but good enough to kill with."

"That is satisfactory, Luka. If I can get hold of a gun and you can make a bow and arrows we shall do very well."

For four days they continued their journey through the forest, gathering much fruit, chiefly strawberries and raspberries, and eating sparingly of their bread. At night they lit fires, for the evenings were still cold, and slept soundly beside them. On the fifth morning Godfrey said, "We must turn south now, Luka, our bread won't last more than two days at the outside, and we must lay in a fresh supply. We have kept as near west as we could, and we know by the mountains that we cannot be far wrong, still it may take us some time to find a village." To Godfrey's satisfaction they arrived at the edge of the forest early in the afternoon.

"We cannot be very far from Nertchinsk," he said. "We must be careful here, for there are lots of mines in the neighbourhood."

After walking for another three or four hours several large buildings were seen among the trees in the valley, and these it was certain belonged to one or other of the mines. When it became dark they descended still farther, and kept down until they came upon a road. This they followed until about midnight they came upon a small village. They found, as they had hoped, bread and other provisions upon several of the window-sills, and thankfully stowing these away again struck off to the hills.

"This is capital," Godfrey said, as after getting well into the forest they lighted a fire, threw themselves down beside it, and made a hearty meal. "If we could rely upon doing as well as this always I should not mind how long our journey lasted. It is glorious to be out in these woods after that close prison."

The Tartar nodded. The closeness of the air in the prison never troubled him, but he was quite ready to agree to anything that Godfrey might say. "Good in summer," he said, "but not very good in winter."

"No, I expect not; but we shall have to make the best of it, Luka, for it is quite certain that we shall have to spend the winter out somewhere."

"We will make skin coats and keep ourselves warm," Luka said confidently. "Make a good hut."

"Yes, that part of the thing seems simple enough," Godfrey agreed; "the difficulty will be in feeding ourselves. But we need not bother about that now. Well, we had better go off to sleep, Luka; we have been tramping fully eighteen hours, and I feel as tired as a dog."

In a few minutes they were fast asleep, but they were on their feet again at daybreak and journeyed steadily for the next three days, always keeping near the edge of the forest. On the fourth day they saw a small farm-house lying not far from the edge of the wood.

"Here is the place that we have been looking for for the last week," Godfrey said. "This is where we must manage to get clothes. The question is, how many men are there there? Not above two or three, I should say. But anyhow we must risk it."

They waited until they saw lights in the cottage, and guessed that the family had all returned from their work.

"Now then, Luka, come along. You must look fierce, you know, and try to frighten them a bit. But mind, if they refuse and show fight we must go away without hurting them."

Luka looked up in surprise. "Why that?" he asked. "You could beat that pig Kobylin as if he were a child, why not beat them and make them give?"

"Because I am not going to turn robber, Luka. I know some of the runaways do turn robbers, and murder peasants and travellers. You know some of the men in the prison boasted of what they had done, but that is not our way. We are honest men though we have been shut up in prison. I am willing to pay for what I want as long as I have money, after that we shall see about it. If these people won't sell we shall find others that will."

They went quietly up to the house, lifted the latch and walked in, holding their long knives in their hands. Two men were seated at table, three women and several children were near the fire. There was a general exclamation of alarm as the two convicts entered.

"Do not fear," Godfrey said loudly; "we do not wish to rob anyone. We are not bandits, we are ready to pay for what we require, but that we must have."

The men were both convicts who had long since served out their time. "What do you want?" one of them asked.

"We want clothes. You need not be afraid of selling them to us. If we were captured to-morrow, which we don't mean to be, we will swear to you that we will not say where we obtained them. We are ready to pay the full value. Why should you not make an honest deal instead of forcing us to take life?"

"We will sell them to you," one of the men said after speaking a few words in a low tone to the other, and then rising to his feet.

"Sit down," Godfrey said sternly. "We want no tricks. Tell the women to fetch in the clothes."

The man, seeing that Godfrey was determined, abandoned his intention of seizing a club and making a fight for it, and told one of the women to fetch some clothes down. She returned in a minute or two with a large bundle.

"Pick out two suits, Luka, one for you and one for me." Luka was making a careful choice when Godfrey said, "Don't pick out the best, Luka, I don't want Sunday clothes, but just strong serviceable suits; they will be none the worse for a patch or two. Now," he said to the men, "name a fair price for those clothes and I will pay you."

The peasants had not in the slightest degree believed that the convicts were going to pay them, and their faces lighted up. They hesitated as to the price.

"Come, I will give you ten roubles. I am sure that is more than they are worth to you now."

"Very well," the man said, "I am contented."

Godfrey placed a ten-rouble note upon the table. "Now," he said, "we want a couple of hats." Two fairly good ones were brought down.

"Is there nothing else?" the man asked, ready enough to sell now that he saw that he was to be paid fair prices.

"We want some meat and bread, ten pounds of each if you have got it."

"We have a pig we salted down the other day," the man said. "We have no bread—we are going to bake to-morrow morning but you can have ten pounds of flour."

"That will do. We want a small frying-pan, a kettle, and two tin mugs. Have you got any tea in the house?"

"I have got about a pound."

"We will take it all. We can't bother ourselves about sugar, Luka, we must do without that; every pound tells. We have brought plenty of tobacco with us to last some time. Have you got a gun?" he asked the man suddenly.

"Yes," he said, "we have got two. The wolves are troublesome sometimes in winter. Fetch the guns, Elizabeth."

The guns were brought down. One was a double-barrel of German make, the other a long single-barrel. "How much do you want for this?" he asked, taking up the former.

"I don't use it much," the man said, "one will be enough for me, I will take fifty roubles."

"No, no," Godfrey said. "You value your goods too high; money is not as plentiful with me as all that. I can't go higher than twenty roubles," and he laid the gun down again.

"I will take thirty," the man said.

After a good deal of bargaining Godfrey obtained the gun, a flask of powder, and a bag of bullets and shot for twenty-five roubles. Then he paid for the other goods he had purchased. Luka made them into a bundle and lifted them all on to his shoulder. Then saying good-bye to the peasants they again started for the forest.

"We are set up now, Luka."

"Yes indeed," the Tartar replied. "We could journey anywhere now; we want but two or three blankets and some furs and we could travel to Moscow."

"Yes, if we had one more thing, Luka."

"What is that?"

"Passports."

"Yes, we should want those; but I daresay we could do without them."

They enjoyed their suppers greatly that night, frying some pork and then some dough-cakes in the fat, and washing it down with numerous cups of tea.

"The next thing will be for you to make a bow and arrows, Luka. I did not buy the other gun for two reasons: in the first place because we could not afford it, and in the second because you said you liked a bow best."

Luka nodded. "I never shot with a gun," he said. "A bow is just as good, and makes no noise."

"That is true enough, Luka. Well, I shall be a good deal more comfortable when we leave those convict clothes behind us. Of course we shall be just as liable to be seized and shut up as vagabonds when we cannot produce papers as if we were in our convict suits, but there is something disgusting in being dressed up in clothing that tells every one you are a murderer or a robber, and to know there is that patch between one's shoulders."

Luka was quite indifferent to any sentimental considerations. Still he admitted that it was an advantage to get rid of the convict garb. In the morning they put on the peasants' clothes. As Godfrey was about the same size as the man whose garments he had got, the things fitted him fairly. Luka's were a good deal too large for him, but as the Russian peasants' clothes always fit them loosely, this mattered little. The other things were divided into two bundles of equal weight.

Luka would willingly have carried the whole, pointing out that Godfrey had the gun and ammunition, but the latter said:

"If you take the frying-pan and kettle and the two tin mugs that will make matters even, Luka."

The two convict suits were left at the foot of the tree where they had slept. Godfrey first thought of throwing them on to the fire, but changed his mind, saying:

"Some poor beggar whose clothes are worn out may come upon them, and be glad of them, some time during the summer; we may just as well let them lie here. Now, Luka, we must walk in good earnest. We ought to be able to make five-and-thirty miles a day over a tolerably level country, and at that rate we shall be a long way off before winter."

The forests abounded with squirrels. Although Luka assured him that they were excellent eating, Godfrey could not bring himself to shoot at the pretty creatures. "It would be a waste of powder and shot, Luka," he said. "We have plenty of meat to go on with at present, when it is gone it will be time enough to begin to think of shooting game; besides, there are numbers of mines about this country, and the sound of a gun might bring out the Cossacks."

CHAPTER XI.

It was a pleasant journey through the forest, with its thick and varied foliage, that afforded a shade from the sun's rays, with patches of open ground here and there bright with flowers. Godfrey had enjoyed it at first, but he enjoyed it still more after he had got rid of the convict badge. He had now no fear of meeting anyone in the woods except charcoal-burners or woodmen, or escaped convicts like themselves. By such they would not be suspected of being aught but what they seemed—two peasants; unless indeed, a hat should fall off. The first night after leaving the prison Godfrey had done his best to obliterate the convict brand, by singeing it off as he had done before.

Each day the air grew warmer, and they could pick as they walked any quantity of raspberries and whortleberries. Luka always filled the kettle at each streamlet they came to, as they could never tell how long they would be before they arrived at another, and the supply rendered them independent, and enabled them to camp whenever they took a fancy to a spot. They walked steadily from sunrise to sunset, and as they went at a good pace Godfrey was sure that they were doing fully the thirty-five miles a day he had calculated on. Although Sundays had not been observed at the prison, and the work went on those days as on others, Godfrey had not lost count, and knew that it was on a Monday evening that they had broken out, and each Sunday was used as a day of rest.

"We are travelling at a good pace, Luka," he said, "and thirty-five miles a day six days a week is quite enough, so on Sundays we will always choose a good camping ground by a stream, wash our clothes, and rest."

They had little trouble about provisions. At lonely houses they could always obtain them, and there they were received very hospitably, the peasants often refusing absolutely to accept money, or at any rate giving freely of all the articles they themselves raised, and taking pay only for tea and sugar, which they themselves had to purchase. When no such places could be met with they went down to villages at night, and never failed to find bread and cakes on the window-sills, though it was not often that meat was there, for the peasants themselves obtained it but seldom. Godfrey had no fear of his money running short for a long time. The six hundred roubles with which he arrived at Kara had been increased by his earnings during the nine months he had been there. He had spent but a few kopecks a week for tea and tobacco, and his pay while he had been a clerk was a good deal larger than while he had been working in the mine. Luka, too, had saved every kopeck he had received from the day when Godfrey told him that he would take him with him when he ran away. He had even given up smoking, and was with difficulty persuaded by Godfrey to take some tobacco occasionally from him. Between them in the nine months they had laid by nearly a hundred roubles, and had, therefore, after deducting the money given by Godfrey to Mikail and that paid for the gun and clothes, over five hundred roubles for their journey.

They were glad, indeed, when at last they saw the broad sheet of Lake Baikal. They had for some time been bearing to the north of west, and struck the lake some twenty miles from its head. There were a good many small settlements round the lake, a good deal of fishing being carried on upon it, although the work was dangerous, for terrible storms frequently swept down from the northern mountains and sent the boats flying into port. The lake is one of the deepest in the world, soundings in many places being over five thousand feet. Many rivers run into the lake, the only outflow being by the Angara. Baikal is peculiar as being the only fresh-water lake in the world where seals are found, about two thousand being killed annually. The shores are in most places extremely steep, precipices rising a thousand feet sheer up from the edge of the water, with soundings of a hundred and fifty fathoms a few yards from their feet. Fish abound in the lake, and sturgeon of large size are captured there.

Godfrey knew that there were guard-houses with Cossacks on the road between the northern point of water and the steep mountains that rise almost directly from it. He had specially studied the geography of this region, and knew that after passing round the head of the lake there was a track across the hills by which they would, after travelling a hundred and fifty miles, strike the main road from Irkutsk to Yakutsk, near the town of Kirensk, on the river Lena. From Kirensk it would be but little more than a hundred miles to the nearest point on the Angara, which is one of the principal branches of the Yenesei.

To gain this river would be a great point. The Lena, which was even nearer to the head of Lake Baikal, also flowed into the Arctic Sea; but its course was almost due north, and it would be absolutely hopeless to endeavour to traverse the whole of the north coast of Siberia. The Angara and the Yenesei, on the other hand, flowed north-west, and fell into the Arctic Sea near the western boundary of Siberia, and when they reached that point they would be but a short distance from Russia. It seemed to him that the only chance was by keeping by a river. In the great ranges of mountains in the north of Siberia there would be no means of obtaining food, and to cross such a district would be certain death. By the rivers, on the other hand, there would at least be no fear of losing their way. The journey could be shortened by using a canoe if they could obtain one, and if not, a raft. They would often find little native villages or huts by the banks, and would be able to obtain fish from them. Besides, they could themselves catch fish, and might possibly even winter in some native village. For all these reasons he had determined on making for the Angara.

Buying a stock of dried fish at a little fishing village on the lake they walked to within a mile of its head, there they slept for the night, and started an hour before daybreak, passed the Cossack guard-house unseen just as the daylight was stealing over the sky, and then went along merrily.

The road was not much used, the great stream of traffic passing across Lake Baikal, but was in fair condition, and they made good progress along it. Long before that, Luka had, after several attempts, made a bow to his satisfaction. It was formed of three or four strips of tough wood firmly bound together with waxed twine, they having procured the string and the wax at a farmhouse on the way. There was one advantage in taking this unfrequented route. The road between Irkutsk and Tomsk was, as Godfrey had learned on his outward journey, frequented by bands of brigands who had no hesitation in killing as well as plundering wayfarers. Here they were only likely to fall in with convicts who had escaped from Irkutsk or from convoys along the road, and were for the most part perfectly harmless, seeking only to spend a summer holiday in freedom, and knowing that when winter came on they would have to surrender themselves.

Of such men Godfrey had no fear, his gun and his companion's bow and arrows rendered them too formidable to be meddled with, and until they came down upon the main road there was no chance of their meeting police officers or Cossacks. No villages were passed on the journey, and Godfrey, therefore, had no longer any hesitation in shooting the squirrels that frisked about among the trees. He found them, as Luka had said, excellent eating, although it required three or four of them to furnish anything like a meal. He soon, however, gave over shooting, for he found that Luka was at least as certain with his bow as he was with the gun, with the advantage that the blunt arrow did not spoil the skins. These, as Luka told him, were valuable, and they would be able to exchange them for food, the Siberian squirrel furnishing a highly-prized fur.

Each day Luka brought down at least a dozen of these little creatures, and these, with their dried fish and cakes made of flour, afforded them excellent food on their way. After four days' walking across a lofty plateau they descended into a cultivated valley, and before them rose the cupolas of Kirensk, while along the valley flowed the Lena, as yet but a small river, although it would become a mighty flood before it reached the sea, nearly four thousand miles away. It would have to be crossed at Kirensk, and they sat down and held a long council as to how they had best get through the town. They agreed that it must be done at night, for in the daytime they certainly would have to produce passports.

"There will not be much chance of meeting a Cossack or a policeman at one or two o'clock in the morning, Luka, and if there were any about we ought to be able to get past them in the dark."

"If one stops us I can settle him," Luka said, tapping his knife.

"No, no, Luka, we won't have any bloodshed if we can help it, though I do not mean to be taken. If a fellow should stop us and ask any questions, and try to arrest us, I will knock him down, and then we will make a bolt for it. There is no moon now, and it will be dark as pitch, so that if we kick out his lantern he would be unable to follow us. If he does, you let fly one of your blunted arrows at him. That will hit him quite hard enough, though it won't do him any serious damage. Of course, if there are several of them we must fight in earnest, but it is very unlikely we shall meet with even two men together at that time of night."

Accordingly they went in among some trees and lay down, and did not move until they heard the church bells of the distant town strike twelve. Then they resumed their journey, keeping with difficulty along the road. Once in the valley it became broader and better kept. At last they approached the bridge. Godfrey had had some fear that there might be a sentry posted here, and was pleased to find it entirely deserted.

"We will take off our shoes here, Luka, tie them with a piece of string, and hang them round our necks. We shall go noiselessly through the town then, while if we go clattering along in those heavy shoes, every policeman there may be in the streets will be on the look-out to see who we are."

They passed, however, through the town without meeting either policeman or soldier. The streets were absolutely deserted, and the whole population seemed to be asleep. Once through the town they put on their shoes again, followed the road for a short distance, and then lay down under some trees to wait for daylight. Now that they were in the country they had no fear of being asked for passports, and it was not until the sun was well up that they continued their journey. Four miles farther they came upon a village, and went boldly into a small shop and purchased flour, tea, and such articles as they required. Just as they came out the village policeman came along.

"Where do you come from?" he asked.

"I don't ask you where you come from," Godfrey replied. "We are quiet men and hunters. We pay for what we get, and harm no one who does not interfere with us. See, we have skins for sale if there is anyone in the village who will buy them."

"The man at the spirit-shop at the end of the village will buy them," the policeman said; "he gives a rouble a dozen for them."

"Thank you," and with a Russian salutation they walked on.

"Of course he suspects what we are," Godfrey said to his companion; "but there was no fear of his being too inquisitive. The authorities do not really care to arrest the wanderers during the summer months, as they know they will get them all when winter comes on; besides, in these villages all the people sympathize with us, and as we are armed, and not likely to be taken without a fight, it is not probable that one man would care to venture his life in such a matter."

On arrival at the spirit-shop they went in.

"The policeman tells us you buy skins at a rouble for a dozen. We have ten dozen."

"Are they good and uninjured?" the man asked.

"They are. There is not a hole in any of them."

The man looked them through carefully.

"I will buy them," he said. "Do you want money, or will you take some of it in vodka?"

"We want money. We do not drink in summer when we are hunting."

The man handed over ten rouble notes, and they passed out. A minute later the policeman strolled in.

"Wanderers?" he said with a wink. The vodka seller shrugged his shoulders.

"I did not ask them," he said. "They came to me with a good recommendation, for they told me that you had sent them here. So after that it was not for me to question them."

"I told them you bought skins," the policeman said. "They seemed well-spoken fellows. The one with the bow was a Tartar or an Ostjak, I should say; he may have been a Yakute, but I don't think so. However, it matters little to me. If there was anything wrong they ought to have questioned them at Kirensk; they have got soldiers there. Why should I interfere with civil people, especially when one has a gun and the other arrows?"

"That was just my opinion," the other said. "Well, here is a glass of vodka, and I will take one with you. They are good skins, all shot with a blunt arrow."

Godfrey and his companion now took matters easily. There was no motive for hurrying, and they devoted themselves seriously to the chase.

"We must have skins for the winter," Luka said. "I can dress and sew them. The squirrels are plentiful here, and if we set snares we may catch some foxes. We shall want some to make a complete suit with caps for each of us, and skins to form bags for sleeping in; but these last we can buy on the way. The hunters in summer bring vast quantities of skins down to the rivers to be taken up to Krasnoiarsk by steamer, and you can get elk skins for a rouble or two, which will do for sleeping bags, but they are too thick for clothing unless they are very well prepared. At any rate we will get as many squirrel skins as we can, both for clothes, and to exchange for commoner skins and high boots."

It was three weeks after they had left Kirensk before they struck the Angara, near Karanchinskoe. They had traversed a distance, as the crow flies, of some eight hundred miles since leaving Kara, but by the route they had travelled it was at least half as far again, and they had been little over ten weeks on the journey. Luka had assured Godfrey that they would have no difficulty in obtaining a boat.

"Everywhere there are fishing people on the rivers," he said. "There are Tunguses—they are all over Siberia. There are the Ostjaks on all the rivers. There are my own people, but they are more to the south, near Minusinsk, and from there to Kasan, and seldom come far north. In summer everyone fishes or hunts. I could make you a boat with two or three skins of bullocks or horses or elk, it only needs these and a framework of wood; but we can buy one for three or four roubles a good one. We want one strong and large and light, for the river is terribly swift. There are places where it runs nearly as fast as a horse can gallop."

"Certainly we will get a good-sized one, Luka. If the river runs so swiftly we shall have no paddling to do, and therefore it will not matter at all about her being fast; besides, we shall want to carry a good load. We will not land oftener than we can help, and can sleep on board, and it will be much more comfortable to have a boat that one can move about in without being afraid of capsizing her. Whatever it costs, let us get a good boat."

"We will get one," Luka said confidently. "We shall find Ostjaks' huts all along the banks, and at any of these, if they have not a boat that will suit us, they will make us one in two or three days."

Avoiding the town, and passing through the villages at night, they kept along down the river bank for four days. The river was as wide as the Thames at Greenwich, with a very rapid current. They saw in some of the quiet reaches fishing-boats at work, some with nets, others with lines, and at night saw them spearing salmon and sturgeon by torch-light. Across the river they made out several of the yourts or summer tents of the Ostjaks, but it was not until the fourth day that they came upon a group of seven or eight of these tents on the river bank. The men were all away fishing, but the women came out to look at the strangers. As Luka spoke their dialect he had no difficulty in opening the conversation with them. He told them that he and his companion wanted to go down the river to Yeneseisk, and wished to buy a boat, a good one.

The women said that some of the men would be in that evening, and that the matter could be arranged.

"They will be glad to sell us a boat," Luka said to Godfrey. "They are very poor the Ostjaks; they have nothing but their tents, their boats, and their clothes. They live on the fish they catch, but fish are so plentiful they can scarce get anything for them, so they are very glad when they can sell anything for money."

The Ostjak men arrived just before it became dark. They wore high flat-topped fur caps, a dress something like a long loose blouse, and trousers of fine leather tucked into boots that came up to the knee. Most of them had bows and arrows in addition to their fishing gear. Godfrey felt no uneasiness among these men as he would have done among the Buriats in the east, for they were now at a distance from any convict settlements, and these people would know nothing about the rewards offered to the natives in the neighbourhood of the mines for the arrest of prisoners. A present of some tobacco, of which Godfrey had laid in a large stock, put the Ostjaks into an excellent temper. Fish were broiling over the fire when they returned, and the two travellers joined them at their meal. After this was over and pipes lighted the subject of the boat was discussed. The Ostjaks were perfectly ready to trade. They said they would sell any of their six boats for three roubles, and that if they did not think any of these large enough they would build them a larger one in three days for six roubles.

Godfrey had exchanged twenty roubles for kopecks at the first village they had passed after reaching the river, as he knew that notes would be of no use among the native tribes, and without bargaining he accepted the offer they made. After passing the night stretched by the fire they went down with the men in the morning to inspect the boats. They were larger than he had expected to find them, as the fishing population often shift their quarters by the river and travel in boats, taking their family, tent, and implements with them.

"What do you think, Luka?"

"They are large enough," Luka said, "but they are not in very good condition. I should say that farthest one would do very well; but let us have a look at the state of the skins."

The boat was hauled ashore and carefully examined. Three or four of the skins were found to be old and rotten; the rest had evidently been renewed from time to time.

"We will take this if you will put in four good skins," Luka said to the owner.

"It will be six roubles if we put in fresh skins," the Ostjak said. "We will put in good skins and grease all the boat, and then it will be the same as new. The other skins were all new last year."

"No," Luka said. "You said you would build a whole boat larger than this for six roubles."

The men talked together. "We will do it for five roubles," they said at last, and Luka at once agreed to the terms.

There was no time lost. The Ostjaks ordered the women to set about it at once, and leaving the matter in their hands went off to their fishing. Godfrey asked them to take him with them, leaving Luka to see to the repairs of the boat. The fishing implements were of the roughest kind. The hooks were formed of fish bones, bound together by fine gut; the lines were twisted strips of skin, strong gut attaching the hook to these lines; the bait was small pieces of fat, varied by strips of fish with the skin on them. Clumsy as the appliances were, jack, tench, and other fish were caught in considerable numbers, and among them two or three good-sized salmon. The nets were of coarse mesh, made of hemp, which grows wild in many parts of Siberia. They were some ten feet in depth and some twenty yards long. The upper ends were supported by floats made of bladders, and the whole anchored across the stream by ropes at the extremities, fastened to heavy stones. In these nets a considerable quantity of fish were taken. The fishing was over early, for there had been a good supply taken on the previous day, and as at this time of year they would not keep, it was useless obtaining more.

When they reached shore the common sorts of fish were thrown to the dogs; a dozen of the best picked out, and with these two of the men started at once for the nearest village, where they would be sold for a few kopecks; the rest were handed over to the women, while the men proceeded to throw themselves down by the fire and smoke. Godfrey went to see how the women were getting on with the boat. They had already made a great deal of progress. The skins, which had been chosen by Luka from a pile in the hut, were already prepared by having fat rubbed into them. The hair was left on them, as that would come inside. The bad skins had been taken off, the others cut to fit, and now only required sewing into their places. As a matter of course Godfrey and Luka took their meals with the Ostjaks and greatly enjoyed the change of diet. They gladdened the hearts of their hosts by producing a packet of tea, of which a handful was poured into a pot of water boiling over the fire. The liquor was drunk with delight by the Ostjak men and women, but Godfrey could not touch it, for some of the fish had already been boiled in the water, which the Ostjaks had not thought it necessary to change.

At night he went out again with them in the boats for a short time to see them spear salmon. A man holding a large torch made of strips of resinous wood stood in the bow of the boat, and on either side of him stood an Ostjak holding a long barbed spear. In a short time there were swirls on the surface of the river. These increased till the water round the boat seemed to boil. The Ostjaks were soon at work, and in half an hour twenty fine salmon were lying in the bottom of the boat, and then having caught as much as there was any chance of selling the natives they returned to their yourts. The next morning the work on the boat was resumed, and as all the women assisted it was finished in a very short time. Then melted fat was poured into the seams, and the whole boat vigorously rubbed with the same. By twelve o'clock it was finished. Then there was a little fresh bargaining for two salmon spears, a supply of torches, half a dozen common fox skins, and three large hides for stretching over the boat at night. Some of the lines and fish-hooks were also bought, and a few fish for present consumption, then Godfrey and Luka took their places in the boat, and bidding farewell to the Ostjaks paddled out into stream.

The boat was some twenty feet long and six feet wide in the centre. It was almost flat-bottomed, and drew but two or three inches of water. A flat stone had been placed on a layer of clay in the bottom, and they had taken with them a bundle of firewood. Godfrey was in the highest spirits. It was true that the real dangers of the journey had not yet begun, but so far everything had gone very much better than he had anticipated. He had not thought there would be any chance of recapture, for he knew that unless they came into the towns the Russians took no trouble about the escaped convicts. All the convicts with whom he had spoken had agreed that there was little trouble in sustaining life in the forests during summer, for that even if they could not obtain food from the peasants they had only to carry off a sheep at night from the folds.

"That is why the peasants are so ready to give," one said. "I don't say that they are not sorry for us, but the real reason is they know that if they did not give we should take, and instead of being harmless wanderers, as they call us, we should be driven to become bandits."

Still Godfrey had anticipated much greater difficulties than they had met with; in fact up to the present time it had been simply a delightful tramp through the woods. The next part of the journey would, he expected, be no less pleasant. They had a large and comfortable boat, well adapted for the navigation of the river. There would be no difficulty as to food, for fish could be obtained in any quantities, and grain was, he had heard from some of the Tartar prisoners who knew that portion of the Yenesei, abundant and extraordinarily cheap.

He seated himself in the stern of the boat with a paddle. There was no occasion to steer, for it mattered in no way whether the boat drove down the river bow or stern first; but at present it was an amusement to keep her straight with an occasional stroke with the paddle. Luka sat on the floorboards at the bottom of the boat, and set himself to work to manufacture from the squirrels' skins two fur caps of the same pattern as those worn by the Ostjaks. Godfrey had asked him to do so in order that they might be taken for members of that tribe by anyone looking at them from the villages on the banks. As to the dress it did not signify, as many of the more settled Ostjaks had adopted the Russian costume. Godfrey intended to fish as they drifted along, but they had at present at least as much fish on board as they could consume while it was good. Luka, as he worked, sang a lugubrious native ditty, while with his knife he trimmed the skins into shape. Having done this he proceeded to sew them together with great skill.

"Why, you are quite a tailor, Luka," Godfrey remarked.

"Every one sews with us," Luka replied. "The women do most, but in winter the boys help, and sometimes the men, to make rugs and robes of the skins of the beasts we have taken in the summer. What do you say, shall I leave these tails hanging down all round, except just in front? They often wear them so in winter."

"But it is not winter now, Luka."

"No, it is not winter; but you see the Ostjaks and most of the Russians wear their hair long, quite down to the neck. Our hair is growing, but at present it will only just lie down flat. If I leave on these black tails round the caps, at a little distance it will look like hair. Then, if you like, I can make two summer caps to put on when we land to buy anything."

"Very well, Luka, I think the idea is a good one. The people do wear their hair long, and our close crops might excite attention. This is better than gold-digging at Kara, isn't it?"

Luka nodded. "No good for man always to work," he said. "Good to lie quiet sometimes."

"I don't know that I care about lying quiet generally, Luka, but it is pleasant to do so in a boat. I am keeping a look-out for wild-fowl, it would make a pleasant change to fish diet."

"Not so far south as this. The Yenesei swarms with them in winter, but in summer they go north. Just before the frost begins you can shoot as many as you like."

"That will be something to look forward to. When does the weather begin to get cold and dry?"

"Where I lived the nights began to get cold at the end of September, but we shall be far down the Yenesei by that time, and it will begin early in the month."

"We shall be a long way down," Godfrey said, "if we keep on at this pace. We must be going past the banks eight or nine versts an hour."

"That is nothing; it will be more than twice that some times. The Angara between the lake and Irkutsk runs fifteen versts. When I was taken east we saw barges, each towed up-stream by twenty horses, and it took them sometimes four days, sometimes six, to make forty-five versts."

As they went along they passed several fishing-boats, but as they were keeping in the middle of the stream, while the boats lay in the slacker water near the shore, there was no conversation. Twice the Ostjaks shouted to know where they were going, but Luka only replied by pointing down the stream. The journey was singularly uneventful. At night they lit a torch for a short time, and generally speared sufficient fish for the next day, but if not, they cut a strip or two from the back of one they had caught, baited three or four hooks and dropped them overboard, and never failed in a short time to fill up their larder. Sometimes they grilled the fish over the fire, sometimes fried them, sometimes cut them up in pieces that would go into the kettle, and boiled them. Occasionally, when evening approached, they paddled to the shore near a village, and Luka, whose Tartar face was in keeping with his dress, went boldly in and purchased tobacco, tea, and flour, and a large block of salt, occasionally bringing off a joint of meat, for which the price was only four kopecks, or about a penny a pound; five kopecks being worth about three halfpence according to the rate of exchange. A hundred kopecks go to the rouble; the silver rouble being worth from two and tenpence to three shillings and twopence, the paper rouble about two shillings.

At first Godfrey had steered half the night and Luka the other half, but after the second night they gave this up as a waste of labour, as the boat generally drifted along near the middle of the river, and even had it floated in-shore no harm would have been done. The fox skins made them a soft bed, and they spread a couple of the large skins over the boat and were perfectly warm and comfortable. Godfrey thought that on an average they did a hundred and twenty miles a day. On the eighth day the river, which had been widening gradually, flowed into another and greater stream, the Yenesei. Hitherto they had been travelling almost due west, but the Yenesei ran north. As they floated down they had had much conversation as to their plans. It was now nearly the end of August, and it would not be long before winter was upon them. Another month and the Yenesei would be frozen, and they would be obliged to winter. The question was where should they do so?