north-east outlier of the great Altai uplift. The peasants at the last village shook their heads and did not care about setting out to cross it. But after some trouble we set off and for half-a-day we staggered along rising land through open taiga, proceeding at the rate of no more than two miles an hour. At midday we came to a little village called Klyuchee in the middle of the taiga, and more than half-way up the ridge. Here some hardy Siberian "old-timers" lived with their wives and families. Life must be none too easy for the peasants, as the summer here is shorter at that altitude and the land less productive than on the lower ground. But they all seemed fairly contented and prosperous, judging by the clean and tidy houses. They were all of the real Siberian type, knowing nothing of old Russia, or even of Siberia except for the district where fate had placed them. In fact, although similar in extraction and nationality, these old Siberians are a race apart from European Russians, and owing to their isolation they have developed more hardy and independent characters.
From this point we took our sledges and progressed rapidly over snowdrifts and through forests of pine and spruce, all still in winter's grip. In the evening we dropped again to lower altitudes, and the forest ended as we entered the village of Tukaiskaya, where we spent the night in a peasant's house, and supped on eggs, bread and tea. We partook of this fare three times a day for the greater part of a whole week, after which we should have been glad never to see an egg again. Eggs in these villages cost ⅛th of a penny each, and, as we could not eat more than ten a day, our daily food bill was seldom more than sixpence
