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I had scarcely time to throw my felt cloak round me when down came the snow. I looked at the staff-captain with profound respect. "We shall have to pass the night here," he said, vexation in his tone. "There's no crossing the mountains in such a blizzard. I say, have there been any avalanches on Mount Krestov?" he inquired of the driver.
"Look, there is Krestov!" said the staffcaptain, when we had descended into the Chertov Valley, as he pointed out a hill covered with a shroud of snow. Upon the summit stood out the black outline of a stone cross, and past it led an all but imperceptible road which travellers use only when the side-road is obstructed with snow.
"I told you," he exclaimed, "that there would be dirty weather to-day! We must make haste, or perhaps it will catch us on Mount Krestov. Get on!" he shouted to the drivers. Chains were put under the wheels in place of drags, so that they should not slide, the drivers took the horses by the reins, and the descent began.
On the left yawned a deep chasm, through which rolled a torrent, now hiding beneath a crust of ice, now leaping and foaming over the black rocks. In two hours we were barely able to double Mount Krestov two versts in two hours! Meanwhile the clouds had descended, hail and snow fell; the wind, bursting into the ravines, howled and whistled like Nightingale the Robber.
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