first she was unable to speak; then she
ventured on gasping out, "Well, I've been in an express train, but
this beats it! Where are you going?"

"To Petropawlowsky, to change these skins for coffee, and rice, and
rice," answered the boy.

"What skins are they?" asked Lucy.

"Bears'--big brown bears that father killed in a cave--and wolves'
and those of the little ermine and sable that we trap. We get much,
much for the white ermine and his black tail. Father's coming in
another sledge with, oh! such a big pile. Don't you hear his dogs
yelp? We'll win the race yet! Ugh! hoo! hoo! ho-o-o-o!--On! on!
lazy ones, on, I say! don't let the old dogs catch the young ones!"

Crack, crack, went the whip; the dogs yelped with eagerness,--they
don't bark, those Northern dogs; the little Kamschatkadale bawled
louder and louder, and never saw when Lucy rolled off behind, and
was left in the middle of a huge snowdrift, while he flew on with
his load.

Here were his father's dogs overtaking her; and then some one was
picking her up. No, it was Don! and here was Mrs. Bunker exclaiming,
"Well, if here is not Miss Lucy asleep on Master's old bearskin!"

CHAPTER X.

THE TURK.

"What a beautiful long necklace, Mrs. Bunker! May I have it for
Lonicera?"

"You may play with it while you are here, Missie, if you'll take
care not to break the string, but it is too curious for you to take
home and lose. It is what they call a Turkish rosary; they say it
is made of rose-leaves reduced to a paste and squeezed ever so hard
together, and that the poor ladies that are shut up in the harems
have little or nothing to do but to run them through their fingers."

"It has a very nice smell," said Lucy, examining the dark brown beads,
which hung loosely on their string, and letting them fall one by one
through her hands, till of course that happened which she was hoping
for: she woke on a long, low sofa, in the midst of a room all carpet
and cushions, in bright colors and gorgeous patterns, curling about
with no particular meaning; and with a window of rich brass
lattice-work.

And by her side there was an odd bubbling that put her in mind of
blowing the soap-suds into a froth when preparing them for bubble
blowing; but when she looked round she saw something very unlike
the long pipes her big brother used, or the basin of soap-suds.
There was a beautifully shaped glass bottle, and into it went a
very long twisting tube, like