The road--if a stratum of deep mud can be called by that name--formed the intervening space.

All the houses turned their gables to the passerby, and some of them had pretensions to architectural decoration in the form of rude perforated woodwork.

Between the houses, and in a line with them, were great wooden gates and high wooden fences, separating the courtyards from the road.

Into one of these yards, near the farther end of the village, our horses turned of their own accord.
"An inn ?" I said, in an interrogative tone.
The driver shook his head and said something, in which I detected the word "friend." Evidently there was no hostelry for man and beast in the village, and the driver was using a friend's house for the purpose.
The yard was flanked on the one side by an open shed, containing rude agricultural implements which might throw some light on the agriculture of the primitive Aryans, and on the other side by the dwelling-house and stable.

Both the house and stable were built of logs, nearly cylindrical in form, and placed in horizontal tiers.
Two of the strongest of human motives, hunger and curiosity, impelled me to enter the house at once.