On this side road the contract requires but three troikas at a station.  Three sleighs together were an unusual number, so that the smotretals generally obtained one or both our teams from the village.  On the last half of the route the yemshicks did not take us to the stations but to the houses of their friends where we promptly obtained horses at the regular rates.  The peasants between Tomsk and Barnaool own many horses, and are pleased at the opportunity to earn a little cash with them.

Snow, darkness, and slumber prevented our seeing much of the road during the night.  In the morning, I found we were traveling through an undulating and generally wooded country, occasionally crossing rivers and small lakes on the ice.  The track was a wonderful improvement over that between Tomsk and Krasnoyarsk.  The stations or peasant houses where we changed horses, were not as good as those on the great road.  The rooms were frequently small and heated to an uncomfortable degree.  In one house, notwithstanding the great heat, several children were seated on the top of the stove, and apparently enjoying themselves.  The yemshicks and attendants were less numerous than on the great road, but we could find no fault with their service.  On one course of twenty versts our sleigh was driven by a boy of thirteen, though seemingly not more than ten.  He handled the whip and reins with the skill of a veteran, and earned an extra gratuity from his passengers.

The road was marked by upright poles ten or twelve feet high at distances of one or two hundred feet.  There were distance posts with the usual black and white alternations, but the figures were generally indistinct, and many posts were altogether wanting.  On the main road through the whole length of Siberia, there is a post at every verst, marking in large numbers the distance to the first station on either side of it.  At the stations there are generally posts that show the distance to Moscow, St. Petersburg, and the provincial or ‘government’ capitals on either side.

For a long time I could never rid myself of a sensation of ‘goneness’ when I read the figures indicating the distance to St. Petersburg.  Above seven thousand they were positively frightful; between six and seven thousand, they were disagreeable to say the least.  Among the five thousand and odd versts, I began to think matters improving, and when I descended below four thousand, I felt as if in my teens.  The proverb says, “a watched pot never boils.”  I can testify that these distance figures diminished very slowly, and sometimes they seemed to remain nearly the same from day to day.