last strength to drag myself to the top of the mountain to die there,
looking away over the infinite sea of mountains and forest toward the
point where my loved ones were.

However, the same life gave me much matter for reflection and yet more
occupation for the physical side. It was a continuous struggle for
existence, hard and severe. The hardest work was the preparation of the
big logs for the naida. The fallen trunks of the trees were covered
with snow and frozen to the ground. I was forced to dig them out and
afterwards, with the help of a long stick as a lever, to move them from
their place. For facilitating this work I chose the mountain for my
supplies, where, although difficult to climb, it was easy to roll the
logs down. Soon I made a splendid discovery. I found near my den a great
quantity of larch, this beautiful yet sad forest giant, fallen during
a big storm. The trunks were covered with snow but remained attached to
their stumps, where they had broken off. When I cut into these stumps
with the ax, the head buried itself and could with difficulty be drawn
and, investigating the reason, I found them filled with pitch. Chips of
this wood needed only a spark to set them aflame and ever afterward I
always had a stock of them to light up quickly for warming my hands on
returning from the hunt or for boiling my tea.

The greater part of my days was occupied with the hunt. I came to
understand that I must distribute my work over every day, for it
distracted me from my sad and depressing thoughts. Generally, after
my morning tea, I went into the forest to seek heathcock or blackcock.
After killing one or two I began to prepare my dinner, which never had
an extensive menu. It was constantly game soup with a handful of dried
bread and afterwards endless cups of tea, this essential beverage of the
woods. Once, during my search for birds, I heard a rustle in the dense