face, and asked to see the compass. I unscrewed the cover and
showed him the blue quivering needle still pointing to the north. He
examined it curiously, but with evident respect for its mysterious
powers, and at last said that it was truly a "great master," and
wanted to know if it always pointed toward the sea! I tried to explain
to him its nature and use, but I could not make him understand, and
he walked away firmly believing that there was something uncanny and
supernatural about a little brass box that could point out the road to
the sea in a country where it had never before been!

We pushed on to the northward throughout the afternoon, keeping as
near the coast as possible, winding around among the thickly scattered
peaks and crossing no less than nine low ridges of the mountain range.

I noticed throughout the day the peculiar phenomenon of which I had
read in Tyndall's _Glaciers of the Alps_--the blue light which seemed
to fill every footprint and little crevice in the snow. The hole made
by a long slender stick was fairly luminous with what appeared to be
deep blue vapour. I never saw this singular phenomenon so marked at
any other time during nearly three years of northern travel.

About an hour after dark we rode down into a deep lonely valley, which
came out, our guide said, upon the sea beach near the mouth of the
Samanka River. Here no snow had fallen, but it was raining heavily. I
thought it hardly possible that the Major and Dodd could have reached
the appointed rendezvous in such a storm; but I directed the men to
pitch the tent, while Viushin and I rode on to the mouth of the river
to ascertain whether the whale-boat had arrived or not. It was too
dark to see anything distinctly, but we found no evidence that human
beings had ever been there, and returned disappointed to camp. We were
never more glad to get under a tent, eat supper, and crawl into our
bearskin sleeping-bags, than after that exhausting day's work. Our
clothes had been either wet or frozen for nearly forty-eight hours,
and we had been fourteen hours on foot and in the saddle, without warm
food or rest.

[Illustration: Wooden Cup]

CHAPTER XV

CUT OFF BY STORM--STARVATION THREATENED--RACE WITH A RISING TIDE--TWO
DAYS WITHOUT FOOD--RETURN TO LESNOI

Early Saturday morning we moved on to the mouth of the valley, pitched
our tent in a position to command a view of the approaches to the
Samanka River, ballasted its edges wit