Dodd would strike his horse a sharp blow with a willow
switch, turn half round in his saddle, and reply,
with a quizzical smile, that we were “not most
there yet, but would be soon!”—an
equivocal sort of consolation which did not inspire
us with much enthusiasm. At last, when it had
already begun to grow dark, we saw a high column of
white steam in the distance, which rose, Dodd and
Viushin said, from the hot springs of Malqua; and
in fifteen minutes we rode, tired, wet, and hungry,
into the settlement. Supper was a secondary consideration
with me
that night. All I wanted was to
crawl under a table where no one would step on me,
and be let alone. I had never before felt such
a vivid consciousness of my muscular and osseous system.
Every separate bone and tendon in my body asserted
its individual existence by a distinct and independent
ache, and my back in twenty minutes was as inflexible
as an iron ramrod. I felt a melancholy conviction
that I never should measure five feet ten inches again,
unless I could lie on some Procrustean bed and have
my back stretched out to its original longitude.
Repeated perpendicular concussions had, I confidently
believed, telescoped my spinal vertebrae into each
other, so that nothing short of a surgical operation
would ever restore them to their original positions.
Revolving in my mind such mournful considerations,
I fell asleep under a table, without even pulling off
my boots.
[Illustration: Cap of brown and white fur]
CHAPTER IX
THE BEAUTIFUL VALLEY OF GENAL—WALLS OF LITERATURE—SCARING UP A
BEAR—END OF HORSEBACK RIDE
It was hard work on the following morning to climb
again into the saddle, but the Major was insensible
to all appeals for delay. Stern and inflexible
as Rhadamanthus, he mounted stiffly upon his feather
pillow and gave the signal for a start. With the
aid of two sympathetic Kamchadals, who had perhaps
experienced the misery of a stiff back, I succeeded
in getting astride a fresh horse, and we rode away
into the Genal (gen-ahl’) valley—the
garden of southern Kamchatka.
The village of Malqua lies on the northern slope of
the Kamchatka River watershed, surrounded by low barren
granite hills, and reminded me a little in its situation
of Virginia City, Nevada. It is noted chiefly
for its hot mineral springs, but as we did not have
time to visit these springs ourselves, we were compelled
to take the natives’ word for their temperature
and their medicinal properties, and content ourselves
with a distant view of the pillar of steam which marked
their location.