great "Yamshchiks" who remembers those old days of freedom, that heroic epos, that struggle for existence and money in the dusk of the icy and snowclad Siberian desert
His name is Innocent Kuchtierin.
Once he told the following story in a narrow circle of friends:
"I had at that time three hundred of my own sledges, each drawn by a team of three horses. The 'Yamshchiks' were all wonderful fellows. I never engaged one who could not walk a mile with a sack weighing 400 pounds on his back. This was my test. I had Yamshchiks who could carry as much as 1,000 pounds. They are no more nowadays, We drove a load of tea from Kyakhta to Kazan. The winter was severe. A frost of 40° R. set in and kept up for a month. The horses, and the men wrapped in their furs turned inside out, marched like white ghosts. I had to deliver the goods at the appointed time. We marched day and night, and only rarely halted in a village for a longer rest.
"Near Kansk we had to pass the high-road cut through a virgin jungle. The trees, white with snow, sparkled in the light of the moon. The road was strewn with crystals burning with multi-coloured fires. Volumes of vapour soared over the caravan as the horses and men were fatigued. Suddenly, through this slowly descending mist, I noticed in the snow aside something suspicious. To be exact, I noticed nothing-
