To build the bridges logs were projected a few feet from one side, being held in place by an abutment of rocks which was built about them and in which they were bedded. Above those logs were laid other longer ones which projected a few feet farther, and were lashed to the lower ones by leather thongs, secured at the inner end by the rock abutment. That was repeated until from each side extended a span so far out that finally the intervening space could be covered by a length of poles. Then a hand-rail was placed along each side, and the result was a rude but stable and safe suspension bridge. The bridges were a never-failing source of interest and wonder to the boys. Each one that they crossed seemed quite as remarkable as the first one had appeared, and they always stopped to look in admiration. Days afterward, in Batum, when they were describing their mountain journey to an English-speaking Russian, they were told that in all the mountain region the building of bridges was so difficult that the destruction of one was punished by death. Raymond shot another rabbit, which eked out their scanty stock of bread and cheese for a couple of days. Then, as the food was almost gone, they decided they must stop at the first village they came to. That they found situated high on a mountain-side. Though they had sighted the houses early in the afternoon, the climb up to them was so steep and so long that night was closing in when they arrived. That village, like the one from which they had escaped, was built in terraces on a mountain slope, but it was much steeper, even, than the first village. The road went up in front of the lower tier of houses, where were standing several men, who, apparently, had been watching the boys’ approach. Sidney selected the most important-looking of the group and tendered him their passport, with an inquiry for accommodation for the night. The man received the paper, examined it curiously, and then passed it on to another near him. It went around the circle, and was the subject of an animated conversation, coming back in the end to Sidney, with, however, no intelligible comment. “Can you tell us where we will find supper and lodging?” Sidney asked. The man who had received the paper looked mystified and replied in a tongue that sounded to the boys different from anything they had previously heard: as indeed it was, for in the mountainous part of Daghestan nearly every village has its own dialect, there being about twenty different languages spoken in that area. “It’s no use to talk to them, Sid,” said Raymond; “they won’t understand a word you say.” “I know they won’t, but I can’t just stand and stare at them. It’s much easier to say something, even if they don’t understand.” “We’ll have to use pantomine, the way Ramon used to with the Tarahumaras. Let’s see what I can do.” And Raymond made the motion of putting something into his mouth, at the same time working his jaws vigorously.