194 THROUGH RUSSIA ON A MUSTANG. 



Crumbled up in his horny fist were several greasy 

 ruble notes, part of which were to pay for the new pass- 

 port and the others were to be his salvation from the 

 dreaded suspicion of the police. 



The notes were handed over, covertly slipped from 

 one half-closed hand to another, and, presto ! part of 

 them fell into the handy pocket just below the little 

 secretary's extended hand, and the rest were smoothed 

 out leisurely on his desk and laid away in the drawer 

 where they belonged. The little secretary was, in 

 effect, a flesh-and-blood automaton : his pocket was the 

 slot in which the moujik put the rubles, and the prize 

 drawn was a passport, dated a month or two back — in 

 substance, a certificate of immunity from further annoy- 

 ance and suspicion for several months to come. 



It is their salvation from a peck of trouble that the 

 common people of Russia know that an automaton of 

 this character is to be found in every police station, 

 not necessarily with a bald head and high collar, but 

 always with a slot for ruble notes, by means of which a 

 surprising variety of prizes may be drawn. When not 

 too outrageously exacting, these tchinovniks, with ready 

 hands and pockets, are consequently to be regarded as 

 friends rather than enemies of the people. 



In Russia anything a man does, or anything he says, 

 or even anything he does not do or say, may get him 

 into trouble. Everything depends on how he manages 

 to stand in the estimation of the police. The offenses 

 of omission are as numerous as those of commission. 

 There is a story popular among the peasants that a 

 moujik was once found dead in the forest. The priest 

 refused to grant him burial in the grave-yard for fear he 



