attempted the passage of the ravine without dismounting, and came near paying the penalty of my rashness by a violent death.  About half way through, where the trail was only eight or ten feet above the bed of the torrent, the ledge, or a portion of it, gave way under my horse’s feet, and we went down together in a struggling mass upon the rocks in the channel of the stream.  I had taken the precaution to disengage my feet from the treacherous iron stirrups, and as we fell I threw myself toward the face of the cliff so as to avoid being crushed by my horse.  The fall was not a very long one, and I came down uppermost, but narrowly escaped having my head broken by my animal’s hoofs as he struggled to regain his feet.  He was somewhat cut and bruised, but not seriously hurt, and tightening the saddle-girth I waded along through the water, leading him after me until I was able to regain the path.  Then climbing into the saddle again, with dripping clothes and somewhat shaken nerves, I rode on.

Just before dark we reached a point where further progress in that direction seemed to be absolutely cut off by a range of high mountains which ran directly across the valley.  It was the central ridge of the Samanka Mountains.  I looked around with a glance of inquiring surprise at the guide, who pointed directly over the range, and said that there lay our road.  A forest of birch extended about half way up the mountain side, and was succeeded by low evergreen bushes, trailing-pine, and finally by bare black rocks rising high over all, where not even the hardy reindeer-moss could find soil enough to bury its roots.  I no longer wondered at the positive declaration of the Kamchadals, that with loaded horses it would be impossible to cross, and began to doubt whether it could be done even with light horses.  It looked very dubious to me, accustomed as I was to rough climbing and mountain roads.  I decided to camp at once where we were, and obtain as much rest as possible, so that we and our horses would be fresh for the hard day’s work which evidently lay before us.  Night closed in early and gloomily, the rain still falling in torrents, so that we had no opportunity of drying our wet clothes.  I longed for a drink of brandy to warm my chilled blood, but my pocket flask had been forgotten in the hurry of our departure from Lesnoi, and I was obliged to content myself with the milder stimulus of hot tea.  My bedding, having been wrapped up in an oilcloth blanket, was fortunately dry, and crawling feet first, wet as I was, into my bearskin bag, and covering up warmly with heavy blankets, I slept in comparative comfort.