250 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
was impossible: we were lying as if buried alive—impossible to 
bear it. Again we crept out of the narrow space, and to our 
horror we heard the “hum” of the mosquitos on all sides. 
Night had set in; the stars shone feebly; and we had no 
alternative but again to float our boat, to sit down in it, and to 
row out upon the open lake, where we supposed there would be 
more draught, which we knew did not suit the mosquitos. And 
this plan turned out the best. In the middle of the lake we took 
in the oars, covered our heads with our handkerchiefs as well as 
we could, and gave ourselves up to the waves, and tried to sleep. 
July 13. The biting cold and tormenting hunger, as well 
as anxiety for our immediate future, did not allow us much 
rest. The night, instead of refreshing us, caused us to be all 
the more worn out. The conviction gained ground more and 
more in our minds that it was perfectly impossible to penetrate 
the island-labyrinth. The last hope, that in the course of the 
day a human being might pass the lake, was so very doubtful 
that we could hardly give it a thought; because, in the first 
place, everybody was occupied with the harvest, and in the next, 
the Kara-Orman Russians came this way but rarely and quite 
accidentally; while from the other side probably not a soul 
came all the year round. We waited for daybreak with broken 
spirits. At the first dawn the lake birds became lively. Sterna 
hirundo and nigra hunted about, screaming; Ducks came and 
went, so did Cormorants and little white Herons. But our 
condition hardly disposed us to contemplate the interesting 
doings of these happy birds. When the red glow of sunrise was 
reflected by the waters, we left our station and rowed doubtfully 
along the reed-border, gathering fresh hope that we might find 
the right track after all. It was perhaps the twentieth time that, 
at a seemingly favourable spot, we made the attempt to force our 
way through, with the firm intention not to turn back, however 
great the obstacles we might meet with. We had two guiding. 
points—the sun and the summit of a tree, no doubt belonging 
to the forest of Kara-Orman; the latter, of course, we could only 
see on the lake when standing on the seat of our boat. Our 
spirits revived a little when the sun rose, the warm rays acting 
beneficially; the dew was sparkling upon the leaves. In a 
situation a little more favourable than ours the magnificent 
surroundings would have rendered us the happiest of mortals, 
