“Ivan,” said Sakalar, “all this is to tempt the poor Yakouta to cross the wilderness of ice.  It is much riches, but not enough to make Sakalar mad.  The mine is guarded by evil beings.  But speak, lad, why would you go there?”

“Let Kolina give me a pipe and I will tell my story,” said Ivan; and filling his glass, the young fur-trader told the story of his love, and his bargain with the prudent widow.

“And this cold-hearted woman,” exclaimed Kolina with emotion, “has sent you to risk life on the horrible Frozen Sea.  A Yakouta girl would have been less selfish.  She would have said, ’Stay at home—­let me have Ivan:  the mammoth teeth may lie forever on the Frozen Sea!’”

“But the lad will go, and he will be drowned like a dog,” said Sakalar, more slowly, after this ebullition of feminine indignation.

“You must go with him, father,” continued Kolina, with a compassionate look at Ivan; “and as your child cannot remain alone, Kolina will go too!”

“We will start when the horses have had five days’ hay,” said Sakalar gravely—­the animals alluded to being only fed when about to go a journey—­“and Kolina shall go too, for Ivan will be two years on his way.”

Ivan listened in amazement:  in the first place, at the sudden decision and warmth of his attached friends, with whom he had dwelt twelve years; then at the time required.  He felt considerable doubts as to the widow remaining unmarried such a time; but the explanation of Sakalar satisfied him that it was impossible to perform the journey even in two years.  The hunter told him that they must first join the tribes dwelling round Nijnei-Kolimsk (New-Kolimsk), where alone he could get dogs and sledges for his journey across the Frozen Sea.  This, with the arrangements, would consume the winter.  In the summer nothing could be done.  When the winter returned he must start toward the north pole—­a month’s journey at least—­and if he hit on the place, must encamp there for the rest of the winter.  That summer would be spent in getting out the ivory, fattening up the dogs, and packing.  The third winter would be occupied by the journey home.  On hearing this, Ivan hesitated; but in describing the journey the spirit of the old hunter got roused, and before night he was warm in his desire to see over again the scenes of his youthful perils.  Kolina solemnly declared she must be of the party; and thus these experienced savages, used to sudden and daring resolves, decided in one night on a journey which would perhaps have been talked of half a century elsewhere before it was undertaken.

Kolina slept little that night.  In a compartment near her was one who had since childhood been the ideal of her future.  She had loved Ivan as a playmate—­she loved him as a man; and here, he whom she had longed for all the winter, and he whom she had hoped to see once more the next summer, had suddenly come, starting on a perilous journey of years, to win the hand of an avaricious, but young and beautiful widow.  Kolina saw all her fairest dreams vanish, and the idol of her heart crumble into dust.  And yet she felt no ill-will to Ivan, and never changed her resolve to be the faithful companion and attendant of her father and his friend in their wild journey to the supposed islands in the Frozen Sea.