His food is boiled beef and horse’s flesh, cow’s and mare’s milk.  But his chief delicacy is raw and melted fat, while quantity is always the chief merit of a repast.  He mixes likewise a mess of fish, flour, milk, fat, and a kind of bark, the latter to augment the volume.  Both men and women smoke inordinately, swallowing the vapor, as do many dwellers in civilized lands—­a most pernicious and terrible habit.  Brandy is their most precious drink, their own koumise having not sufficient strength to satisfy them.  In summer they wander about in tents collecting hay, in winter they dwell in the yourte or hut, which is a wooden frame, of beehive shape, covered with grass, turf, and clay, with windows of clear ice.  The very poor dig three feet below the soil; the rich have a wooden floor level with the adjacent ground, while rude benches all round serve as beds, divided one from the other by partitions.  The fireplace is in the middle, inclining toward the door.  A pipe carries away the smoke.

It was almost dark when Ivan halted before the yourte of Sakalar.  It was at once larger and cleaner to the eye than any of those around.  It had also numerous outhouses full of cows, and one or two men to tend these animals were smoking their pipes at the door.  Ivan gave his horses to one of them, who knew him, and entered the hut.  Sakalar, a tall, thin, hardy man of about fifty, was just about to commence his evening meal.  A huge mass of boiled meat, stewed fish, and a sort of soup, were ready; and a young girl about eighteen, neatly dressed, clean, and pretty—­all owing to her Yakoutsk education—­was serving the hunter.

“Spirit of the woods protect me!” shrieked the girl, spilling half of the soup upon the floor.

“What wild horses have you seen, Kolina?” cried the hunter, who had been a little scalded; and then seeing Ivan, added, “A Yakouta welcome to you, my son!  My old heart is glad, and I am warm enough to melt an iceberg at the sight of you, Ivan.  Kolina, quick! another platter, a fresh mug, the best bottle of brandy, and my red pipe from Moscow!”

No need was there for the hunter to speak.  Kolina, alert as a reindeer, had sprung up from the low bench, and quickly brought forth all their holiday ware, and even began to prepare a cake, such as Ivan himself had taught her to make, knowing that be liked some sort of bread with his meals.

“And where are you going?” cried Sakalar when the young man had somewhat appeased his hunger.

“To the North Sea, in search of the great ivory mine!” said Ivan, abruptly.

Kolina started back in terror and surprise, while Sakalar fixed his keen eye on the youth with sorrow and curiosity, and almost unequivocally, testified his belief that his favorite pupil in the chase was mad.  But Ivan rose and bade the serving-man of the rich Yacouta bring in his boxes, and opened up his store of treasures.  There was tea for Kolina; and for Sakalar, rum, brandy, powder, guns, tobacco, knives—­all that could tempt a Yakouta.  The father and daughter examined them with pleasure for some time, but presently Kolina shook her head.