, laid across two poles in primitive but adequate fashion, being
deposited by the simple process of widening the space between the poles,
and letting the wood fall on the deck with a noise like thunder. The
halts and "wooding up" seemed especially frequent at night, and there
was not much opportunity for sleep between them. Our fear of being
burned alive also deprived us of the desire to sleep. We were nearly
roasted, as it was, and had to go out on the deck in the wind and rain
at short intervals, to cool off.

There was nothing especially worthy of note at any of the landings,
beyond the peculiar windmills, except at Gorodetz, which is renowned for
the manufacture of spice-cakes, so the guide-book said. I watched
anxiously for Gorodetz, went ashore, and bought the biggest "spice-cake"
I could find from an old woman on the wharf. All the other passengers
landed for the same purpose, and the old woman did a rushing business.
After taking a couple of mouthfuls, I decided that I was unable to
appreciate the merits of my cake, as I had been, after repeated efforts,
to appreciate those of a somewhat similar concoction known under the
name of "Vyazemsky." So I gave the cake to the grateful stewardess, and
went out on deck to look at a ray of sunlight.

"Where's your cake?" asked a stern voice at my elbow. The speaker was a
man with long hair and beard, dressed like a peasant, in a conical fur
cap and a sheepskin coat, though his voice, manner, and general
appearance showed that he belonged to the higher classes. Perhaps he was
an "adept" of Count Tolstoy, and was merely masquerading in that
costume, which was very comfortable, though it was only September.

"I gave it to the stewardess," I answered meekly, being taken by
surprise.

"What! Didn't you eat it? Don't you know, madam, that these spice-cakes
are renowned for their qualities all over Russia, and are even carried
to the remotest parts of Siberia and of China, also, I believe, in great
quantities? [He had got ahead of the guide-book in that last
particular!] _Why_ didn't you eat it?"

"It did not taste good; and besides, I was afraid of indigestion. It
seemed never to have been cooked, unless by exposure to the sun, and it
was soggy and heavy as lead. You know there has been a great deal of
rain lately, and what sun we have even now is very pale and weak, hardly
adapted to baking purposes."

This seemed to enrage my hairy mentor, and he poured out a volume of