CHAPTER XII.

NEARING THE CHINESE FRONTIER.

At Minusinsk we were to leave the Yenesei, and continue our journey to the Syansk Mountains over the foothills, which now intervened between the Chinese border. Beyond one or two villages at decidedly long intervals, we could look forward to nothing in the shape of accommodation until we reached Karatuski, a village of rather larger dimensions than the majority, and which was the last Siberian habitation before the frontier. From Minusinsk to Karatuski, there was no semblance of a road, merely a track formed in the snow by the telegas of the gold-miners going to or returning from the mines. Southward from Minusinsk the whole country was gold-bearing, and Karatuski itself was the head-quarters of the goldmasters during the summer operations.

After a day’s rest in Minusinsk we once more resumed our journey, our way being over the barren uplands which were ever rising towards the mountain range. Very little incident marked our progress during the first day’s journey, and on the second we came in sight of the ragged spurs of the mountains which mark the Chinese frontier. At midday on that day we had reached, after a long toilsome drag up-hill, the top of one of the foothills, and the scene round us was one truly magnificent. To the north the whole snow-covered country lay stretched like a panorama. To the south tumbled hills dwindled away in the distance, and, then, above them, with peaks glittering and glinting in the sunlight, rose the cones of the Altai range. To the east more mountains, all peaked, shaggy, and uneven. They were hills and mountains such as are seen in no part of the world except Asia. There were no bluffs or rounded domes, but sheer heaps of rocks pointing up to the sky like reversed stalactites.

On the evening of the third day we passed through a narrow gorge on the ice of a small river, and ultimately came to Karatuski. Here we were met by several Siberian gold-miners, who had been expecting our arrival, and who were, even so early in the year, making their preparations for the forthcoming season’s work. Karatuski was but a village, still we had no difficulty in finding fairly comfortable quarters in a moujik’s house, and as our stay in the village was to be of some days, during which we had to buy provisions and engage men for our expedition in the mountains, we made no bones about engaging two houses in which to get as much comfort as it was possible during the time.

[Illustration: MINUSINSK.]

On the very day of our arrival, and while we were doing full justice to our first meal, we were besieged by quite a crowd of peasants who came to be engaged. Somehow the rumour had gone forth that foreigners were coming into the country, and would require labourers. Whether the peasants thought that they were likely to get better pay or better treatment from the foreigners, I do not know, but anyway they came in their hundreds, and not even our oft-repeated refusals to have anything to do with them until next day would rid us of them. Some assured us that they had walked forty or fifty versts from neighbouring mines on the chance of being engaged, and one interesting party, consisting of nearly two dozen Livlanders, who all spoke German, and were all convicts, begged and prayed of us to engage them. Our interview with some of these worthies threw some sidelights upon Siberian gold-mining, for ninety per cent. of the workers at the mines, it appeared, were of the criminal class.

At Tomsk we had been very careful to make inquiries as to the class of workmen to be obtained in the Minusinsk district, and had been assured that no criminals were sent to the gold-mining districts. The contrary we found was the case, for out of over two hundred men who presented themselves to us not one per cent. bore the passport of a free man; but had, instead, the police certificate which detailed the crime and the sentence of the holder. It is interesting to record that we engaged six men, the most likely-looking and the most intelligent of the mob, and that each one of them had been banished for life to Siberia for no less a crime than violent murder. The most intelligent of the lot was a German Livlander, name, August Schultz, who had committed two murders, one in Courland and one in Siberia, and enjoyed a wife who had distinguished herself by beating out the brains of a former husband with a hatchet. We engaged Schultz as our interpreter, and his wife as our cook, although mentally resolving at the time that it would be necessary to keep a loose eye on the doings of our employés.

When one of the gold-masters came to assist us in getting the police permission for these men to travel with us, his horror at the discovery of the sort of people we had engaged was something most interesting to witness.

“If you had searched all Siberia,” said he, “you could not have found six worse desperadoes than those you have got. Why did you not come to me and let me get you different men?”

“But they are the most likely-looking of the lot who came for engagement!”

“That I agree; I have had one or two of them working for me, and they have been amongst the best, until they broke loose and started fighting. These men, realizing that they have to remain in Siberia, and always as the meanest of workmen, care nothing for their lives; but you are responsible for them, and if one kills the other you will have to pay the bill. However, I wish you the best of luck.”

As events turned out, we had nothing to complain of with regard to our men. We paid them liberally, and they appreciated the fact, and it was a spectacle to behold when, after giving them hand-money for their engagement, they simultaneously flopped down on their knees and severally kissed our boots. According to them we were all “excellencies,” and they paraded the little village to the envy and chagrin of the rest of the crowd who had come on the chance of being engaged.

Our first duty was to proceed to a gold-mine some three or four versts north of the frontier. Our papers, brought from Moscow, duly _viséd_ and passed in Tomsk, had to be laid before the local mining inspector at Karatuski, and it was then that we began to realize what red-tapeism in Russia means. I had already received from the Minister of Mines a personal concession which gave me the right to explore for gold in the whole of Siberia, either to rent or buy existing mines or to prospect for new ground. Our object in first of all looking over a mine already in existence was to get an idea of the manner in which the Siberian works for the precious metal. Two of us were experts from Western Australian and South African gold-fields, and one of us had practical experience of Siberian mining on the Amoor River. From Western Australia and South Africa to the Syansk Mountains is a far cry, and customs and methods were naturally expected to be very diverse. Having deposited our papers, it was my pleasant duty to sign a formidable-looking document which bound me responsible for the lives of the seven human beings in our employ. I then signed another paper guaranteeing that I would not sink a shaft more than so many feet deep, that I would never allow any brawling or strikes, that I would not encroach upon another man’s land, that I would faithfully keep a record of every particle of gold from wheresoever obtained while prospecting, and a dozen or more similar documents which tied our little party hand and foot to the Government, each document having to be stamped, sealed, tied up with red tape, signed by half a dozen functionaries, and so on, until we all became heartily sick of the whole proceedings. They gave us a gold-book in which was to be entered most accurately every piece of gold obtained, how much earth was dug out in order to obtain it, its weight, nature, and consistency. I must admit, however, that while all these rules and regulations looked bewildering in their formidability, the Russians did their very best to impress upon us the necessity of following them to the letter.

While in Karatuski, it may not be out of place to give a little idea of how some of the rich Siberian gold-miners spend their time during their self-imposed exile in this bleak and inhospitable region. Karatuski is simply a village, and the dwellings composing it, although at least a dozen of them are owned by rich miners, are nothing more than mere log houses. In honour of our visit we received many invitations to parties and to dinners, and here the ludicrousness of Siberian customs came once more very much to the fore. Imagine a log house in a village of less than a thousand inhabitants. Imagine a room the walls of which are composed of beams laid one on the other, the floor bare boards, a rough table in the centre, and scarcely any more ornamentation. Imagine, on top of this, a dinner-party given in the middle of the day and everybody in evening dress! The stiffness and formality were really embarrassing at times. Most of the miners, rich men though they were, were of the commonest type of Russians, uncultured either in manners or education. Their very riches seemed to press upon them like a load. They had some idea that it was necessary to be hospitable, but they had not the experience or the knowledge which would tell them how to go about it.

On several of our visits I noticed many side-glances of suspicion, as to whether or not we were criticizing them. Their intentions were good; they did the best they could for us according to their light, and we appreciated that sentiment above everything. It was impossible, however, not to realize how farcical the whole thing was. There was nothing homely about it, nothing that would tend to make a man feel as a guest should amongst friends; and, above all, it was impossible for us to talk much with them, on account of our limited knowledge of the language. Neither could we enter upon the drinking bouts which were so frequent; nor take part in those solemn card-parties which extended far into the night.

[Illustration: KARATUSKI.]

For the Siberian there is but little excitement or amusement than that afforded by cards. In every house that we went to in Karatuski, at least those possessed by the miners, there were the inevitable card-tables, their solemn-faced ring of players, the heaps of paper money at each man’s elbow, the eternal shuffle and click of the cards. High stakes are the rule. Gold-mining in any country can hardly be set down as a commercial enterprise, and in Siberia least of all. Men who were peasants a few years ago find themselves millionaires to-day, are overwhelmed by their wealth, and in cards seek a relaxation from the monotony of their lives. I have it on good authority that several of the richest men in Siberia have lost their whole fortune in one night’s play, have started work again, and in a few years have made another only to be spent once more at the card-table. One of our hosts related quite frankly, and with a smile on his face, that in three nights he lost two hundred thousand roubles. Certainly one of the most peculiar aspects about it is that in the matter of playing it was the millionaire gold-miner who lost and invariably the Government functionary who won. It was common sight for us in our various visits to see the staff, mere clerks, of the mining inspectors, the honoured guests of the establishment. Most of these men receive from the Government not more than seventy-five roubles a month, but that little oval cockade in their caps and their shoulder straps which make them Chinovniks, have an awe-inspiring effect upon the average Russian. I have seen such clerks playing for stakes of a thousand roubles upwards, and a close observation has shown me how little they lose. One is apt to cogitate, then, on the possibility of a good proportion of the miners’ losses not being quite unintentional.

In order to proceed to our destination, it was necessary to abandon our big sledges at Karatuski, and to take smaller sledges, each drawn by one horse, for the rest of the journey. These sledges, as well as the horses which were to take us to the mountains, had to be purchased. The former were merely tiny basket arrangements fixed on a couple of runners, and were about as ramshackle as one could possibly conceive. The track over the mountains being an extremely narrow one, it would be quite impossible to take the larger and wider sledges. The purchase of fifteen horses and fifteen sledges, which were to form our caravan--one man to each sledge, and three sledges to contain our provisions--was naturally an expensive undertaking in such a place as Karatuski. I have no doubt that we were cheated right royally, but that could not be helped under the circumstances.

Our first day’s journey was to be one of eighty versts along the course of the River Armeul, one of the tributaries of the Yenesei. At eighty versts from Karatuski, the miners of the district had erected a hut for the shelter of those making their way to and from the mines, and at every succeeding eighty versts a similar hut had been placed, these being all maintained by the miners, who contributed a certain amount per year for their maintenance.

On the morning of a day late in January, our preparations being all complete--the baggage-sledges packed, the men all together, the horses in their sledges, and everything ready for our two hundred miles’ drive to the mine--we set out. Each man had to drive, but as the roadway was one cut through the deep snow, the question of getting off the road was not one to be concerned about, as right or left of the track the snow was ten to twelve feet deep, and impossible to get through. The whole population of the village turned out to see us off. There was much cracking of whips, shouting, and other to-do as the caravan moved slowly up the hill, rounded the corner, and in a few moments was out of sight of Karatuski, with nothing but the glaring white uplands ahead.