Having now accomplished all that could be done in the way of exploration, we began making preparations for a return to Gizhiga.  The Major had directed me to meet him there with Macrae, Arnold, Robinson, and Dodd, as soon as the first of April, and the month of March was now rapidly drawing to a close.

[Illustration:  A CHUKCHI RUG OF REINDEER SKIN]

On the 20th we packed up our stores, and bidding good-bye to the kind-hearted, hospitable people of Anadyrsk, we set out with a long train of sledges for the coast of the Okhotsk Sea.

Our journey was monotonous and uneventful, and on the second of April, late at night, we left behind us the white desolate steppe of the Paren, and drew near the little flat-topped yurt on the Malmofka, which was only twenty-five versts from Gizhiga.  Here we met fresh men, dogs, and sledges, sent out to meet us by the Major, and, abandoning our loaded sledges and tired dogs, we took seats upon the light narts of the Gizhiga Cossacks, and dashed away by the light of a brilliant aurora toward the settlement.

About one o’clock we heard the distant barking of dogs, and in a few moments we rushed furiously into the silent village, and stopped before the house of the Russian merchant Vorrebeof (vor’-re-be-off’) where we had lived the previous fall, and where we expected to find the Major.  I sprang from my sledge, and groping my way through the entry into a warm dark room I shouted “Fstavaitia!” to arouse the sleeping inmates.  Suddenly some one rose up from the floor at my feet, and, grasping me by the arm, exclaimed in a strangely familiar voice, “Kennan, is that you?” Startled and bewildered with half-incredulous recognition, I could only reply, “Bush, is that you?” and, when a sleepy boy came in with a light, he was astonished to find a man dressed in heavy frosty furs embracing another who was clad only in a linen shirt and drawers.

There was a joyful time in that log house when the Major, Bush, Macrae, Arnold, Robinson, Dodd, and I gathered around a steaming samovar or tea-urn which stood on a pine table in the centre of the room, and discussed the adventures, haps, and mishaps of our first arctic winter.  Some of us had come from the extremity of Kamchatka, some from the frontier of China, and some from Bering Strait, and we all met that night in Gizhiga, and congratulated ourselves and one another upon the successful exploration of the whole route of the proposed Russian-American telegraph line from Anadyr Bay to the Amur River.  The different members of the party there assembled had, in seven months, travelled in the aggregate almost ten thousand miles.