OUR CAMP 93 



put up with it. Our way lay through the Mat steppe 

 for about twenty miles, and, having started so late 

 in the day, we decided to pitch camp at the foot of 

 the hills. The sun was very warm, the ground dry 

 and barren. We passed several small lakes, and 

 soon found ourselves on the banks of the Tchagan- 

 Burgaza stream, which we followed up till the 

 evening. I was greatly struck by how one is de- 

 ceived by distances on those plateaus. The hills 

 seemed quite close at hand, and I could hardly 

 believe that twenty miles separated us from them. 

 However, as we took about five hours to reach our 

 destination, at the pace of about four miles an hour, 

 there could be no mistake. We camped that night 

 on the riverside, at a spot where the stream flows out 

 of a narrow valley, at the head of which we could 

 distinguish snowy peaks. Our Zaissan had brought 

 his tent with him, and we were interested in watching 

 the way in which he kept ordering his Kalmuks 

 about, to pitch his tent, prepare his food, etc., as he 

 lay quietly on his back indulging in pleasant dreams, 

 or sweet slumber. In fact, they paid much more 

 attention to him than they did to us, and I must own 

 that we sincerely hoped he would return home as 

 soon as possible, which he luckily did, though he 

 had been appointed to accompany us the whole 



