But Ivan saw that he had wounded another, and away he went in chase.  The animal ascended a hill, and then halted.  But seeing a man coming quickly after him, it turned and fled down the opposite side.  Ivan was instantly after him.  The descent was steep, but the hunter saw only the argili, and darted down.  He slid rather than ran with fearful rapidity, and passed the sheep by, seeking to check himself too late.  A tremendous gulf was before him, and his eyes caught an instant glance of a deep distant valley.  Then he saw no more until he found himself lying still.  He had sunk, on the very brink of the precipice, into a deep snow bank formed by some projecting rock, and had only thus been saved from instant death.  Deeply grateful, Ivan crept cautiously up the hill-side, though not without his prize, and rejoined his companions.

The road now offered innumerable difficulties, it was rough and uneven—­now hard, now soft.  They made but slow progress for the next three days, while their provisions began to draw to an end.  They had at least a dozen days more before them.  All agreed that they were now in the very worst difficulty they had been in.  That evening they dined on the last meal of mutton and fish; they were at the foot of a lofty hill, which they determined to ascend while strength was left.  The dogs were urged up the steep ascent, and after two hours’ toil, they reached the summit.  It was a table-land, bleak and miserable, and the wind was too severe to permit camping.  On they pushed, and camped a little way down its sides.

The next morning the dogs had no food, while the men had nothing but large draughts of warm tea.  But it was impossible to stop.  Away they hurried, after deciding that, if nothing turned up the next morning, two or three of the dogs must be killed to save the rest.  Little was the ground they got over, with hungry beasts and starving men, and all were glad to halt near a few dried larches.  Men and dogs eyed each other suspiciously, The animals, sixty-four in number, had they not been educated to fear man, would have soon settled the matter.  But there they lay, panting and faint—­to start up suddenly with a fearful howl.  A bear was on them.  Sakalar fired, and then in rushed the dogs, savage and fierce.  It was worse than useless, it was dangerous, for the human beings of the party to seek to share this windfall.  It was enough that the dogs had found something to appease their hunger.

Sakalar, however, knew that his faint and weary companions could not move the next day if tea alone were their sustenance that night.  He accordingly put in practice one of the devices of his woodcraft.  The youngest of the larches was cut down, and the coarse outside bark was taken off.  Then every atom of the soft bark was peeled off the tree, and being broken into small pieces, was cast into the boiling pot, already full of water.  The quantity was great, and made a thick substance.  Round this