A tramp had hired himself out to a peasant for the winter. When spring laid the road open, he received the whole sum due to him, and took his departure. His wages amounted to the veriest trifle, for the peasants drive hard bargains with the poor rascals; but his master grudged parting with even this miserable pittance, and after his departure took his gun and went on the chase. Siberians are keen huntsmen and dead shots; they are as much at home in the forest as the wild animals. This man soon got on the convict’s trail, caught him up, shot him down ruthlessly, and left the body to the beasts of prey, while he went home with the spoils. Throughout our journey we constantly heard tales of unrecognised corpses found, and shocking crimes never unravelled. Siberia was then a wild, forsaken land, untraversed by roads save for the one great Moscow highway. The government of the country districts, entirely in the hands of the police, was corrupt from top to bottom. What wonder if events that chill one’s blood with horror take place there without exciting more than a passing comment? The life of a human being is not valued highly in itself anywhere throughout the Tsar’s dominions; but in Siberia it counts for absolutely nothing, as my own eyes often testified. Even now, when distinct progress has been made in many respects, and the administration of justice greatly reformed (since 1897), this state of things is little changed. CHAPTER XIX THE FOREST—UNSUCCESSFUL ATTEMPTS AT ESCAPE—THE PEOPLE WE MET—THE CRIMINAL WORLD—THE CONVOY OFFICERS Our journey was for the most part accomplished during the Siberian summer. The forest, through which the highway runs for thousands of versts, is then in fullest beauty; and from the many different species of trees is wafted an indescribably delicious perfume. Countless birds flit among the branches, and fill the air with song. Life seems everywhere the more ebullient for its long winter sleep, and throughout all nature the tide of energy is at its highest. A riot of joy was visible everywhere, and we alone seemed to strike a discordant note, as we wandered on towards the prison that awaited us. Yet even we felt born anew; our open-air life worked wonders, following on our long imprisonment. Many who had left Moscow weak and ill became robust in health during the journey.