After watching for a few moments the breaking up and sorting of the ore in the tool-house we drove to the Pokrófski mine, which was situated on the side of another bare mountain ridge about four miles farther to the northwestward. The country between the two mines was as dreary
and desolate as any we had yet traversed. Not a tree nor a bush was to be seen in any direction, and the rolling, snow-clad mountains suggested in general contour the immense surges and mounds of water raised by a hurricane at sea. The buildings at the entrance to the mine consisted of a tool-house like that at the mine of Algachí, a magazine or storehouse, a few A-shaped shanties, in which lived the convicts of the free command, and two small prisons, one of which was apparently new. On the summit of a rocky ridge just over these buildings were two sentry-boxes, in each of which stood an armed soldier on guard. Mr. Frost, who was very tired, did not care to inspect any more mines, and taking a position on the snow near the tool-house he proceeded, with hands encased in thick gloves, to make a sketch of the scene, while Mr. Nésterof and I, under the guidance of a convict, descended the main shaft. The Pokrófski mine did not differ essentially from that of Algachí, except that it was not so extensive nor so deep.
