CHAPTER XXIX 



A PHANTOM JOURNEY 



OUR journey from Bakti to Omsk comes before 

 my mind now in a long series of phantom sleigh 

 drives linked together by incidents chiefly con- 

 nected with the difficulties we encountered on the 

 road. The drunken driver was only the first of 

 these episodes. All the fine talk with which we 

 had been regaled of the drivers' energy and skill 

 died away, and it seemed that their main object 

 was to provide themselves with a good meal as 

 often as occasion should offer. We had been 

 advised to put up in the houses of the natives 

 en route in preference to the official posting 

 houses, and this advice at first we followed. The 

 invariable procedure on arriving at such a house 

 was as follows: A bowl of stewed meat was placed 

 on the floor, from which our drivers helped them- 

 selves with their fingers, with much mouthing and 

 gnawing, picking of teeth and loud throaty expul- 

 sions indicative of the liveliest satisfaction ; thus 

 the meal progressed, the fragments of bone being 

 placed in a dainty heap on the tablecloth when 

 finished with. We got used to it in time, but it 

 was rather trying at first. 



There was no knowing what you might find 



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