Our Little Cossack Cousin in Siberia

Then the interrupted work was resumed. Dimitri and Phillip left us to change their clothes, but soon returned and joined heartily in our preparations.

Part of the men now waded out into an arm of the river until the water reached to their breast. Through this arm the fish usually made their way. Here two fences, separated by a space of about two hundred feet, were to be built, one to the Russian bank, the opposite one from the water to an island in the river. First, poles three or four inches thick, were thrust into the river bottom, about a foot apart, and then willow twigs interwoven between. The fences were then braced from behind with posts tied with willow ropes.

When these were finished and the men had come back to shore, a big fire was kindled. Standing around it, they took off their wet clothes and hung them on nearby bushes or spread them out in the sun.

Old Skorin then pulled a basket with eatables from under a stone, and also a bottle containing vodka (brandy), in order, he said, to keep them from catching cold while standing around naked after their icy bath. Although their lips were blue and their teeth chattered, they laughed and joked as they took it. People don't complain of things in our part of the world.

A decidedly cold wind now began to blow and I was sent to several of the homes for what clothes I could get. Without, however, waiting for me to return, they began to spread the fish nets which were lying in big bundles on the banks.

I soon came back with some dry things for the oldest in the party. For Skorin, in addition to an old army overcoat, I had a pair of long socks made of heavy wool by his wife. She had pressed them into my hand at the last moment, bidding me to be sure to see that her husband put them on.

Skorin received these with a show of scorn, mingled, however, with a satisfaction that he could not disguise. "My wife," he said, "is always worrying about me. If we Cossacks gave in to our wives, we'd all be very tender-footed." But I saw that he pulled on the socks.

Having performed my commission, I turned to where about four hundred feet of netting was already hanging on seven foot high poles. Men were at work on this, tying up broken loops and fixing weights to the lower parts. Long ropes were fastened to the ends. The work was done with feverish haste. When my brother and Phillip came running up, another bundle of nets of about the same size was unrolled, and the two set to work patching it, putting all the skill that they possessed into the work. When the call for dinner came at noon, the netting was ready for use.

Now a difference of opinion arose, some wishing to continue until all the nets were finished, others contending that after a hearty meal they could complete the work more quickly. Skorin who despite his age, was the inspiration of all present, sided with those who wished to remain, but when some one called his attention to the fact that Dimitri and Philip had not breakfasted, he surrendered, and we all hurried to our homes.

CHAPTER V

"THE KETA ARE COMING!"

Certain that there would be something extra for dinner on my brother's account, I ran on ahead, and as I ran I tried to guess what it would be. We would have, of course, the usual borsch (cabbage soup with plenty of meat, potatoes, and onions, and sometimes the addition of sour cream), buckwheat kasha (porridge), and the inevitable tea and rye bread. But what else? As soon as I burst into the room, I knew, for mother was just taking a big fish pie out of the whitewashed oven in the brick fireplace.

The others came in as I was clapping my hands with delight, and we all took our seats around the big table. We had hardly finished eating our borsch to which, following the example of my father, I added two big spoonfuls of buckwheat porridge, when the door opened and Sonya, Peter's sister, came in so nearly out of breath that she could hardly ejaculate the words – "The keta are coming!"

She might have said the enemy, so suddenly did we all spring to our feet and rush out shouting the news to all whose homes we passed. A few minutes after, our boats were in the water with the nets, and the men at their assigned places with fishing hooks, hatchets, and ropes. The women were not behindhand in coming, not merely to gaze at the river but to bring necessary utensils.

I had no especial duty assigned me, and so in trying to help everybody, I managed to be a nuisance. It was not long before I received a kick out of the way from my father, who was assisting Feodor carry a heavy net. This sent me several feet down the bank.

Nothing disheartened, I grabbed hold of a boat which my brother and Young Skorin were pushing into the water. But they worked so rapidly that I lost my balance and fell flat into the edge of the river. My brother caught me up by the neck, shook me angrily, and tumbling me up on the bank growled: "Stop putting yourself where you're not wanted."

I hardly knew what to make of such unusual treatment from Mitya. To hide the tears which were ready to fall, I ran as fast as I could to the top of the bank and got behind some trees from which I had a good view of the entire river.

Here I soon forgot how sore I felt. The fresh damp air was filled with the aromatic fragrance of opening buds and leaves. For a mile along the Russian bank, the river shone mirror-like under the bright rays of the Spring sun. Its surface was slightly waved by the wind, except in one place where there was a peculiar disturbance. Sharp waves and splashes and two rows of foam indicated the approaching advance guard of the keta.

Two boats were rowing desperately to their appointed places on both sides of the opening between the two fences. Two other boats had already gone to watch lest the fish should turn into some other arm. Suddenly the men in these began to fire shots, no doubt to prevent the fish from turning. Their maneuver evidently succeeded, for the fish headed directly to where the other party awaited them.

As they came nearer and nearer I grew so excited that I leaped high into the air and yelled wildly.

Although it was not a big school of fish, it covered more than two hundred feet. As it came to the fences there was a great disturbance, heads and tails and even the entire body appearing far out of the water. A few individual fish jumped as high as the very top of the fence. A very large number became entangled in the spread nets.

Because of the number of fish, it became difficult to get the water end of the net back to land, and, for a while, it looked as if the fish would escape, nets and all. The hard work of the men in the boats seemed to accomplish little. Finally Old Skorin, alone in his light baidarra,[9 - A boat for one man, made of bark and the skin of fish over a wood skeleton.] separated himself from the others, and pulled behind him the end of the rope, while the others exerted themselves to resist the pressure of the fish. When he reached the bank, he wound the rope around some trees which he used as a block, until he made a sufficiently strong anchor for the party behind. Two or three men came to his assistance, and gradually the far end of the net, filled with an enormously large number of fish, was brought on the bank.

A little behind this net was another net to get the fish that escaped the first. Many fish, however, went under both and were soon out of sight.

The whole village now gathered with vessels and sacks, knives and hatchets. The fish were picked up, killed, and carried to improvised tables, where a row of women and two strong men started to work at cleaning, salting, and packing them in barrels. The work was continued until the salt gave out late at night. The remainder were left for drying and smoking on the morrow. All of the work was done in common; later the fish were divided among the different families according to the number of workers in each.

The next morning everything looked gloomy and muddy, for there had been a shower during the night, and it was still drizzling. Happening to recall that the year before at this fish season the weather had been dry, I ventured to ask: "Isn't it foolish to try to dry fish in such wet weather? They'll get wetter than they now are."

To my chagrin and astonishment, all began to laugh, and Young Skorin remarked: "They are rather used to being pretty wet, I fancy."

As I turned from the laughing crowd, who, as soon as they had cleaned some of the fish, hung them on ropes stretched in several rows along the bank, I noticed that "Granny" Daria and her adopted son were watching the workers. I soon saw that they were not there merely out of curiosity but to pick up the spawn which they washed in a big tank and piled in a barrel. Later I was told that Daria had been the first in the village to prepare caviar for sale. That was the year before, when she made enough money to purchase a cow in the city. We all envied her this cow, for in comparison with our undeveloped Manchurian cows she gave an enormous amount of milk.

CHAPTER VI

TIGER! TIGER!

I must have been at least a year older when father came in one evening, his face full of serious concern. I had just been uttering peculiar yells to amuse my little sister, but at once became silent, anxious for him to speak. As soon as he had warmed his hands a little at the fire, he turned to me with, "You will have to go after the cattle, Vanka, and try to get them into the yard." Then, turning to my mother, he added, "A tiger[10 - The Siberian tiger, one of the finest in the world, is found only in the Eastern part of the country. – The Editor.] was seen in the valley last night." Mother began to make some timid objections to my going out because of the falling snow, but father interrupted with: "Trifles! He's a Cossack!"

My mother knew too well my father's conviction that the same discipline that prevailed in the camp should be found in the home, to say more.

I confess that I did not like the task assigned me. As I reluctantly arose, my mother, trying not to betray her emotions, bade me put my fur coat over my blouse. When I had done so, she herself tied a heavy muffler over my cap, and then turning from me, pretended to be absorbed in getting supper. The anxious look in her eyes, however, had not escaped me.

When I stepped out of doors, I could not make out anything at first. The wind was colder and blowing stronger than in the morning, and I rubbed my nose, remembering the half frozen one with which I had returned from a trip on the river two weeks before, resulting in a swollen face and a disagreeable daily greasing with goose fat.

After a few minutes I made out the fences, and then the road, down which I stumbled, hoping to find our cattle clustered as usual, about a big haystack, half a mile from the village.

The sky, as is customary in Eastern Siberia, was clear and full of stars. The dazzling whiteness around gleamed as if covered with thousands of jewels. More than once a clump of bushes made me sure that the tiger was a dozen steps before me.

Suddenly a sinister sound broke the stillness. I half turned to run, when it was repeated, and I recognized that it was only a cracking of the ice in the river below me, so I continued on, relieved. Snow circles now began to form around my muffled face and the deeper snow creaked under my feet. Gradually, however, all sense of fear left me for a while. The spirit of adventure, the thought of accomplishing so difficult a commission, filled my heart with the determination to do it as well as though I were a full grown man.

I had gone less than a quarter of a mile when I began to make out several dark spots approaching along the trail. Soon I heard the bleating of a calf, who, evidently trying to follow its mother, was discontented that more attention was not paid to it.

"They have scented the tiger," I said to myself, "and are trying to get home."

For a moment I felt glad that I did not have to go further. Then it occurred to me that should the frightened animals unexpectedly see me, they might run away so that it would be impossible to find them again that night.

Quickly stepping to one side, I crouched down next to a little hillock. I was a moment too late, for the cattle stopped and stood motionless, gazing toward the spot where I lay. When they renewed their approach, their rapid trot had changed to a slow, cautious walk. It was fortunate that the wind was blowing in my direction, for they were soon in line with me. I scarcely breathed until they had passed, when I leaped up so quickly to follow that I again frightened them, and they started off on so mad a rush towards home that they were soon out of sight.

It was not until then that it occurred to me that the tiger might have been following the cattle, that even now he was somewhere near where I had first caught a glimpse of them.

Panic stricken, I grabbed up the folds of my heavy coat and ran along the trail like one insane. Once I stumbled, and it seemed to me that I felt the tiger's breath on my neck, that his claws were outstretched to carry me so far away that even my mother could not find me.

Then, with a hasty glance behind that saw nothing, I gave a leap forward and continued my run. At last I caught a glimpse of the light from our house, which was at one end of the village; and completely out of breath, I broke into the kitchen and sank to the floor.

Mother, greatly alarmed, ran up to me, crying out: "For heaven's sake, Vanka, what's the matter? Are you hurt? Is the tiger – "

Gasping for breath, I answered weakly, "Yes, tiger."

This produced a commotion. My older sister began to cry; my mother caught up the baby from her warm bed on top of the oven and kissed her, while father with one leap took his rifle from the hook and put on his ammunition belt. Then, taking me by the shoulder, he demanded: "Where was the tiger?"

I muttered something so unintelligible that his face cleared somewhat. He evidently perceived that I was more frightened than the situation justified. To relieve the tensity of the atmosphere, he said in quite a natural tone, "You're scared, Sonny, eh?" Then added briskly, "Shame on you! Take a lantern and follow me."

These words returned to me all my presence of mind. I jumped up and feeling the necessity of something being done, ran for the lantern, lit it, and followed my father who, enveloped in his fur coat, was already out of doors.

When my eyes accustomed themselves to the darkness, I saw that all of our cows were huddled together near the barn. We drove them to a corral surrounded by a seven-foot high fence made of tree trunks.

When sure that all were in, father closed the gate, and turned to another corral in which were the horses tied to posts. At first I thought that he intended to drive them into the corral with the cows, but soon saw, to my great surprise, that he had not only untied them but let them go freely out of the gates. He even went to a shed reserved for a highly valued stallion and let him loose.