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Rh they went. On the seventh day they came to the land of the nomadic Bashkirs. Everything there was exactly as the merchant had said. The Bashkirs dwelt in the steppe by a river's side, in kibitki, or felt-covered wagons. They ploughed no fields, and ate no bread; but they drove cattle along the steppes, and whole herds of horses. Behind the kibitki the foals were fastened up. The mares were driven thither twice a day and milked, and from the milk the Bashkirs made koumiss. The old women beat the milk to make cheese of it, but it was not the sort of cheese the Russian muzhiks knew how to make. The men drank tea and koumiss, ate sheep's flesh, and played on the flute. All of them were sleek and light-hearted, and feasted all the year round. It was a swarthy race, knowing no Russian, but given largely to hospitality. The instant they saw Palchom, the Bashkirs came out of their kibitki and surrounded the stranger. An interpreter chanced to be there. Pakhom told him he had come for land. The Bashkirs were delighted, seized hold of Pakhom, haled him away into the best of the kibitki, set him down on a carpet, placed beneath him soft, downy cushions, and regaled him with tea and koumiss. Then they cut a sheep to pieces and gave him mutton. Pakhom sent to his tarantass (a light car with long shafts) for his presents, and distributed them among the Bashkirs. At this the Bashkirs were till more delighted They chatted away amongst themselves and bade the interpreter speak to Pakhom.

"They bid me tell you," said the interpreter, "that they've taken a fancy to you, and 'tis their custom to 91