As to the subsequent lot of our “administratives,” we learned later that, the party being a large one, the officials had declared themselves unable to carry out the arrangement expressly promised by the governor; and as our comrades refused to go voluntarily by the land route, they were dragged forcibly by soldiers from the prison and packed into the carriages. Much rough usage ensued, but without any really serious result. We had been quieted by lies, because so long as we were all together the authorities had not dared to try conclusions with us by force. The detachment to which I belonged, which was to travel north-eastwards, consisted of five-and-twenty persons: four condemned to penal servitude—Tchuikòv, Spandoni, Maria Kalyùshnaya, and myself; four judicially exiled—Vasìliev, Dashkièvitch, and two ladies (Tchemodànova and Shtchulèpnikòva); the rest all banished by administrative order—some to the north of Tobolsk Government, some to Eastern Siberia—among these latter being Malyòvany, Rubìnok, and our chief of commissariat, Làzarev, who still fulfilled his old functions, our “housekeeping” arrangements continuing as before. From Tiumen we had to go by boat to Tomsk, our route being as follows: down the Tura, on whose banks Tiumen is situated, to its junction with the Tobol; by the latter as far as the Irtisch, by which to the Obi; and then up stream to the Tomi, on which Tomsk stands. This made a voyage of about 3,000 versts (about 2,000 miles), lasting at least fifteen days. As on the Volga, we were installed in the two cabins of a prisoners’ barge, and a steamboat took our floating gaol in tow. This journey afforded little of interest. Although we were in mid-June there were as yet no signs of spring. Sometimes we passed masses of drifting ice; the nights were extremely cold, and the sunshine gave no great heat by day. The rivers were in flood, and everything looked dead and deserted; for miles round we could often discover no trace of human existence. The deathly stillness, the absence of any sign of growth at this awakening season of the year, the piercing cold, ever increasing as we got further north—all this had an uncanny and depressing effect. “Men and women live in these primeval forests and swamps (_tundra_),” I thought, with a shiver, and I pictured to myself how, after many years of prison had robbed me of strength and vitality, I should be given the “right” of residing in a similar, or perhaps a drearier locality; even then not enjoying the liberty possessed by the unfortunate natives—Samoyedes and Ostiaks—who wander about these eternal woods and steppes.