Sir
Lake," it immediately lashes itself into fury. However, it is reported
and believed by the Siberians that a Russian is never drowned in it.

This immense basin of fresh water, fed by more than three hundred
rivers, is surrounded by magnificent volcanic mountains. It has no other
outlet than the Angara, which after passing Irkutsk throws itself into
the Yenisei, a little above the town of Yeniseisk. As to the mountains
which encase it, they form a branch of the Toungouzes, and are derived
from the vast system of the Altai.

In this territory, subject to peculiar climatical conditions, the
autumn appears to be absorbed in the precocious winter. It was now the
beginning of October. The sun set at five o'clock in the evening, and
during the long nights the temperature fell to zero. The first snows,
which would last till summer, already whitened the summits of the
neighboring hills. During the Siberian winter this inland sea is frozen
over to a thickness of several feet, and is crossed by the sleighs of
caravans.

Either because there are people who are so wanting in politeness as to
call it "Sir Lake," or for some more meteorological reason, Lake Baikal
is subject to violent tempests. Its waves, short like those of all
inland seas, are much feared by the rafts, prahms, and steamboats, which
furrow it during the summer.

It was the southwest point of the lake which Michael had now reached,
carrying Nadia, whose whole life, so to speak, was concentrated in her
eyes. But what could these two expect, in this wild region, if it was
not to die of exhaustion and famine? And yet, what remained of the long
journey of four thousand miles for the Czar's courier to reach his end?
Nothing but forty miles on the shore of the lake up to the mouth of the
Angara, and sixty miles from the mouth of the Angara to Irkutsk; in all,
a hundred miles, or three days' journey for a strong man, even on foot.

Could Michael Strogoff still be that man?

Heaven, no doubt, did not wish to put him to this trial. The fatality
which had hitherto pursued his steps seemed for a time to spare him.
This end of the Baikal, this part of the steppe, which he believed to be
a desert, which it usually is, was not so now. About fifty people were
collected at the angle formed by the end of the lake.

Nadia immediately caught sight of this group, when Michael, carrying her
in his arms, issued from the mountain pass. The girl feared for a moment
that it was a