CHAPTER V_ 
FRIENDS 
At half-past three in the morning we reached the 
choom, a circular peaked dwelling covered with birch 
bark. No one was about, but.a deafening chorus arose 
from many dogs who were tied up round about it. 
‘How do you do?’ I said in my bad Russian as I 
raised the flap of the choom door. ‘How do you do?’ 
came back in Russian worse than mine from underneath 
a heap of skins. The first impression one had was that 
the whole floor was a mass of skins, with a pot hanging 
in the middle; nothing remotely like a human being 
could I see. 
And then the floor of the choom began to bubble and 
rise, so to say, and out of the bubbling came a little man 
and a little woman all clad in skins. On their heads 
skin hoods, on their bodies skin caftans, on their legs 
skin boots. They were dressed much alike, but one had 
the smoother face and was decorated with bits of red. 
So I knew it was a woman. She was plain and wrinkled, 
but had a not unkindly twinkle in her eyes. They 
waited as patiently as a pair of public officials for us to 
explain ourselves, only they gazed from one to the other 
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