Crossing them, I rode onwards for four weeks through the wild grey mountains until my jaded horse sank and died of sheer exhaustion. Being compelled to perform the remainder of the terrible journey on foot, I walked by slow, weary stages across the great lone land, where nothing marked my route except the sun, and the country being totally uninhabited I had to eat grass and willow-leaves for sustenance. Suddenly, however, at the close of a dull, stormy day, I had the satisfaction of seeing, for the first time, the broad, grey waters of the Pacific stretching away to a limitless horizon. Even when I had arrived at Petropaulovsk I had by no means eluded the police. The journey to Kolymsk I had undertaken because I recognised how extremely dangerous it would have been to travel to the coast with a passport which distinctly stated my route and destination. The police at Siberian ports are ever-watchful for escaping convicts, but in my eagerness for freedom it never occurred to me that information would be telegraphed to that extreme corner of the empire of the theft of the dead man’s papers. This carelessness nearly resulted in disaster. It was late one afternoon when I descended the hill at the entrance to the town, and passed along the quay. In doing so I noticed a ship anchored about a mile distant. Of a fisherman I casually inquired what the vessel was, and when she would sail. He replied that it was a Canadian sealer, and that it would sail on the morrow. During the remainder of the day I wandered about the dirty, wretched town in search of some means of escape. I had only twenty roubles left, but with these I intended to bribe some foreign sailor to let me embark as a stowaway. When it had grown dark and I was looking about for lodging for the night, I discovered, to my dismay, that I was being closely watched by a police spy. In order to allay suspicion, I sought the police bureau, and entering boldly, presented my passport. The _ispravnik_ chanced to be there, and when he glanced at it a curious smile passed over his features. “The Imperial courier, Ivan Drukovitch, is dead,” he said, looking at me searchingly. “Consider yourself arrested!” I waited for no more. Ere he had uttered the last sentence I had dashed out of the door and down the street. Half-a-dozen policemen were instantly in full cry after me, but in desperation I was determined not to be apprehended just as I was within an ace of securing my freedom. Exerting every muscle, I ran up and down the narrow streets until I suddenly found myself upon the quay. In the glimmering starlight my eyes caught sight of a moored boat. Without a moment’s hesitation I jumped into it and cut the cord that held it. Before my pursuers could gain the water-side the swift current had taken the boat down beside some great piles and I was effectually hidden in the darkness. It was an intensely exciting moment.