what it was. I asked the savage what it could be, and he answered:
"The dogs, Bachka, have lost their way and are trying to warm themselves."
Shortly after he made a movement in the darkness and said:
"Fall down, Bachka."
"Fall down where?"
"Here, Bachka—fall into the snow."
"Wait," I said.
I could not yet believe that I had lost my Kiriak, and wanted to stand up in the sledge and call to him, but at the same moment I felt smothered, as if I had been choked with all this frozen dust, and I fell down into the snow, giving my head a somewhat severe blow on the edge of the sledge. I had no strength to rise again, and even if I had had the strength, my savage would not have allowed me to do so. He held me fast and said:
"Lie still, Bachka, lie quiet; you will not die. The snow will cover us up, it will be warm. Otherwise you will perish. Lie still."
There was nothing else to be done. I had to obey him, and he pulled the reindeer skins off the sledge, threw them over me, and then crawled under them too.
"Now, Bachka, it'll be nice."
But this "nice" was so nasty, that I instantly
