had insisted upon crossing the mountains in defiance of the genius loci and all his tempestuous warnings.  One dead dog was no compensation at all for such a sacrilegious violation of the Evil Spirit’s clearly expressed wishes!  The sacrifice, however, seemed to relieve the natives’ anxiety about their own safety; and, much as I pitied the poor dog thus ruthlessly slaughtered, I was glad to see the manifest improvement which it worked in the spirits of my superstitious comrades.

About ten o’clock, as nearly as I could estimate the time without a watch, our guide examined the beach and said we must be off; we would have between four and five hours to reach the ravine.  We mounted in hot haste, and set out at a swinging gallop along the beach, overshadowed by tremendous black cliffs on one side, and sprinkled with salt spray from the breakers on the other.  Great masses of green, slimy seaweed, shells, water-soaked driftwood, and thousands of medusas, which had been thrown up by the storm, lay strewn in piles along the beach; but we dashed through and over them at a mad gallop, never drawing rein for an instant except to pick our way among enormous masses of rock, which in some places had caved away from the summit of the cliff and blocked up the beach with grey barnacle-encrusted fragments as large as freight-cars.

We had got over the first eighteen miles in splendid style, when Viushin, who was riding in advance, stopped suddenly, with an abruptness which nearly threw him over his horse’s head, and raised the familiar cry of “Medveidi! medveidi! dva.”  Bears they certainly seemed to be, making their way along the beach a quarter of a mile or so ahead; but how bears came in that desperate situation, where they must inevitably be drowned in the course of two or three hours, we could not conjecture.  It made little difference to us, however, for the bears were there and we must pass.  It was a clear case of breakfast for one party or the other.  There could be no dodging or getting around, for the cliffs and the sea left us a narrow road.  I slipped a fresh cartridge into my rifle and a dozen more into my pocket; Viushin dropped a couple of balls into his double-barrelled fowling-piece, and we crept forward behind the rocks to get a shot at them, if possible, before we should be seen.  We were almost within rifle range when Viushin suddenly straightened up with a loud laugh, and cried out, “Liudi”—­“They are people.”  Coming out from behind the rocks, I saw clearly that they were.  But how came people there?  Two natives, dressed in fur coats and trousers, approached us with violent gesticulations, shouting to us in Russian not to shoot, and holding up something white, like a flag of truce.  As soon as they came near enough one of them handed me a wet, dirty piece of paper, with a low bow, and I recognised him as a Kamchadal from Lesnoi.  They were messengers from the Major!  Thanking God in my heart that the other party was safe, I tore open the note and read hastily: