I pointed to the small stream in the valley ahead of us and asked him its name. "Oyna," replied the Soyot. "It is the border of the principality and the passage of it is forbidden." "All right," I said, "but you will allow us to warm and rest ourselves a little." "Yes, yes!" exclaimed the hospitable Soyots, and led us into their tepees.
In the morning we moved off under the guidance of the old Soyot along the trail that followed the valley of the Oyna, free from both mountains and swamps. But we knew that the mounts of my friend and myself, together with three others, were too worn down to make Kosogol and determined to try to buy others in Soldjak.