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48
SIBERIA
on Mr. Frost's big trunk, and gave the signal for a start. Our gray-bearded driver gathered up his four reins of
A CARAVAN OF FREIGHT WAGONS.
weather-beaten rope, shouted "Nu rodníya!" [Now, then, my relatives!] and with a measured jangle, jangle, jangle, of two large bells lashed to the arch over the shaft-horse's back we rode away through the wide unpaved streets of
