He was fumbling for the local pass with a sinking
heart when the soldier whispered, "Twenty kopecks and go ahead." He
passed in. The loss of his money and the unavoidable expenses had
reduced his resources so much that he found it necessary to continue
the journey on foot. He slept at Irbite, but was up early, and passed
out of an opposite gate unchallenged.
Now began a long and weary tramp. The winter of 1846 was one of
unparalleled rigor in Siberia. The snow fell in enormous masses, which
buried the roads deep out of sight and crushed solidly-built houses
under its weight. Every difficulty of an ordinary journey on foot was
increased tenfold. Piotrowski's clothes encumbered him excessively,
yet he dared not take any of them off. His habit was to avoid passing
through villages as much as possible, but, if forced to do so to
inquire his way, only to stop at the last house. When he was hungry he
drew a bit of frozen bread from his wallet and ate it as he went
along: to quench his thirst he often had no resource but melting the
snow in his mouth, which rather tends to increase the desire for
water. At night he went into the depths of the forest, dug a hole
under the snow, and creeping in slept there as best he might. At the
first experiment his feet were frozen: he succeeded in curing them,
though not without great pain.
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