Sea Shore, 15 versts from Lesnoi, October 4th.  Driven ashore here by the storm.  Hurry back as fast as possible.

S. Abaza.

The Kamchadal messengers had left Lesnoi only one day behind us, but had been detained by the storm and bad roads, and had only reached on the previous night our second camp.  Finding it impossible to cross the mountains on account of the snow, they had abandoned their horses, and were trying to reach the Samanka River on foot by way of the sea beach.  They did not expect to do it in one tide but intended to take refuge on high rocks during the flood, and resume their journey as soon as the beach should be left bare by the receding water.  There was no time for any more explanations.  The tide was running in rapidly, and we must make twelve miles in a little over an hour, or lose our horses.  We mounted the tired, wet Kamchadals on two of our spare animals, and were off again at a gallop.  The situation grew more and more exciting as we approached the ravine.  At the end of every projecting bluff the water was higher and higher, and in several places it had already touched with foam and spray the foot of the cliffs.  In twenty minutes more the beach would be impassable.  Our horses held out nobly, and the ravine was only a short distance ahead—­only one more projecting bluff intervened.  Against this the sea was already beginning to break, but we galloped past through several feet of water, and in five minutes drew rein at the mouth of the ravine.  It had been a hard ride, but we had won the race with a clear ten minutes to spare, and were now on the southern side of the snowy mountain range, less than sixty miles from Lesnoi.  Had it not been for our guide’s good sense and boldness we should still have been floundering through the snow, and losing our way among the bewildering peaks, ten miles south of the Samanka River.  The ravine up which our road lay was badly choked with massive rocks, patches of trailing-pine, and dense thickets of alder, and it cost us two hours’ more hard work to cut a trail through it with axes.

Before dark, however, we had reached the site of our second day’s camp, and about midnight we arrived at the ruined yurt where we had eaten lunch five days before.  Exhausted by fourteen hours’ riding without rest or food, we could go no farther.  I had hoped to get something to eat from the Kamchadal messengers from Lesnoi, but was disappointed to find that their provisions had been exhausted the previous day.  Viushin scraped a small handful of dirty crumbs out of our empty bread-bag, fried them in a little blubber, which I suppose he had brought to grease his gun with, and offered them to me; but, hungry as I was, I could not eat the dark, greasy mass, and he divided it by mouthfuls among the Kamchadals.

The second day’s ride without food was a severe trial of my strength, and I began to be tormented by a severe gnawing, burning pain in my stomach.  I tried to quiet it by eating seeds from the cones of trailing-pine and drinking large quantities of water; but this afforded no relief, and I became so faint toward evening that I could hardly sit in my saddle.