Crowds gathered to see the curiosity, and many messages were exchanged
to prove that the machine really spoke. At Anadyrsk Captain Kennan
arranged a small battery and held in his pocket the key that
controlled the circuit. Then the marvel began. The instrument told
when persons entered or left the room, when any thing was taken from
the table without permission, or any impropriety committed. Even
covered with a piece of deer skin, it could see distinctly. With the
human tendency to ascribe to the devil anything not understood, these
natives looked upon the telegraph as supernatural. As it showed no
desire to harm them, they exhibited no fear but abundance of respect.

The Chukchees and Koriaks are creditable workers in metals and ivory.
I saw animal representations rudely but well cut in ivory, and
spear-heads that would do credit to any blacksmith. Their hunting
knives, made from hoop-iron, are well fashioned, and some of the
handles are tastefully inlaid with copper, brass, and silver. In
trimming their garments they are very skillful, and cut bits of
deerskin into various fantastic shapes.

At Ghijiga I bought a kotlanka, intending to wear it in my winter
travel. Its sleeves were purposely very long, and the hood had a wide
fringe of dogskin to shield the face. I could never put the thing on
with ease, and ultimately sold it to a curiosity hunter. Gloves and
mittens, lined with squirrel skin, are made at Ghijiga, and worn in
all the region within a thousand miles.

A great hindrance to winter travel in Northeastern Siberia is the
prevalence of _poorgas_, or snow storms with wind. On the bleak
tundras where there is no shelter, the poorgas sweep with pitiless
severity. Some last but a few hours, with the thermometer ten or