y
to show location of old Sol. We are making four versts an hour in spite
of the hills and the cumbrous boots. The drivers are keeping up well.
Only once is the advance party able to look back to the rear guard, the
caravan being extended more than a verst. Here is another steep hill.
See the crazy Russki driver give his pony his head to dash down the
incline. Disaster hangs in a dizzy balance as he whirls round and round
and the heavily loaded sled pulls horse backwards down the hill. Now we
meet a larger party of dressed-up folks going to church. It is holy day
for Saint Nicholas.

The long hill leading into Liablskaya is a good tester for courage. Some
of the men are playing out--eight versts more will be tough marching.
Here is the billeting officer to tell us that the eight versts is a
mistake--it is nineteen instead. We must halt for the night. No one is
sorry. There is the blazing cook's fire and dinner will be ready soon.
It is only 12:15, but it seems nearly night. Men are quickly assigned to
quarters by the one-eyed old headman, Kardacnkov, who marks the building
and then goes in to announce to the householder that so many Amerikanski
soldats will sleep there. Twenty-five minutes later the rear guard is
in. Our host comes quickly with samovar of hot water and a pot of tea.
He is a clerical man from Archangel, a soldier from the Caucasus. With
our M. & V. we have fresh milk.

It is dark before 3:00 p.m. We need a lamp. All the men are well
quartered and are trying to dry their shoes. We find the sergeants in a
fine home. A bos'n of a Russian vessel is home on leave. We must sit in
their party and drink a hop-ferment substitute for beer. Their coffee
and cakes are delicious and we hold converse on the political situation.
"American soldiers are here to stop the war and give Russia peace" is
our message. In another home we find a war prisoner from Germany, back
less than a week from Petrograd front. He had to come around the
Bolsheviki lines on the Vologda R. R. He says the B. government is on
its last legs at Petrograd.

To KOSKOGOR--THIRD DAY, DECEMBER 20TH

Oh, you silvery moon, are you interested in that bugle call? It is
telling our men to come to breakfast at once--6:45, for we start for
Koskogor at 8:00 a. m. or before. The start is made at 7:45. Road is
fine--well-beaten yesterday by marketing convoys and by Russians bound
for church to celebrate Saint Nick's Day. Between the pines our road
winds. No