The speaker was silent, waved his hand, and starting to his feet, stood with bowed head, and an expression of pain on his face. The young men in the audience also stood up; but the old men did not stir from their seats, and fixing their eyes on the speaker, waited for the continuation of the story. 'Well,--and then--?' Tumara raised his head and began to speak, but at that moment his look fell beyond the edge of the circle and became absorbed in the distance, his face showed astonishment, his lips trembled, and tears rolled from his eyes. Everyone at once turned in the same direction. At some distance from the fire, and leaning against the back of a reindeer as white as milk, stood a grey-headed Tungus in the old-time national costume. Behind him, holding a riding-reindeer by the bridle, was a young boy resembling him in face and dress. 'Seltichan!' they all cried, 'you have come at last,--you!--our father! We thought that you had forsaken us, who are dying! What news? What have you heard and seen beyond the mountains? How fare the people of Memel? Are they living still? Or are they, perhaps, also drawing their last breath, as we are? And you, our leader, what do you mean to do? Have you come alone, or with all your people? Are you going back to the mountains? Or are you going to the coast?' The questions came pouring out. Giving the bridle to his son, Seltichan joined the circle round the fire, and greeted everyone singly by a shake of the hand. He sat down beside the Kniaź,[20] dressed like a Yakut, who hastily made room for him. Then, pulling a small Chinese pipe out of his tobacco-pouch, he filled it slowly. The group became silent, and sat down again. 'It is now two months since the plague reached its height,' the old man answered in a calm, grave voice. 'The people of Memel have dispersed terrified and fled to the coast, but by different ways, in order to avoid the dangerous place. You need not expect them here. But my camp will arrive this evening.' 'Ah! Seltichan, who would ever doubt that you would come? You are wise, you are daring, you, we know, fear nothing!' the Kniaź cried, stretching out his hand towards his neighbour's lighted pipe. A shadow stole over the old man's face. 'No one can escape his fate,' he replied coldly. 'But you were born to happiness, Seltichan! Does not the God love you? When whole herds were dying everywhere, did you not merely lose a young calf?' Again a cloud came over the old man's face. 'He loves me because I keep the ancient customs. My welfare does not spring from human tears, but the mountains, the rocks, the woods, and water bring it me,' the old man remarked drily. His hearers caught up his words. 'Yes, indeed! Your hand was open; you supported your people in the day of disaster, and shared in it.'