CHAPTER IV 



PESANKA TO SCHAROK 



J u ty 8.— No day in any country could possibly be 

 more lovely than this. I might have been back in the 

 mountains of California, when the sun is despoiling the 

 snow, and the wind comes down the valleys so lightly 

 that it scarcely stirs a leaf of the poplars to fright the 

 black-tailed deer. This sense was often upon me during 

 the day. But could I paint as became the subject you 

 would have a very different scene from that. Long- 

 descriptions tire us all, but for once I should just like 

 to try and set you down where we were now. So 

 will you, for one moment, shut your eyes, and give 



yourself to me? 



Just behind us was a gorge filled with snow. Up this 

 the sleiohs had wound from the river to find the plateau 

 where we were. But very soon on that northern side 

 the hills dropt down, and there was the Pesanka coiling 

 away over the plain in the sunlight like a beautiful 

 glittering snake. And the wild geese went up along it 

 from their feeding-grounds, and all about its edges small 



waders ran and fed. 



Our hill sank in front to the tundra itself; very grey at 



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