AUTHOR’S FOREWORD

“Everywhere there is life, and everywhere there are warm human hearts.” These words, spoken by a school-teacher, I remember from many years ago when I was a boy in Siberia. The teacher, Ivan Pavin, was a man who took joy in his work and passed joy on to his pupils. The world was a more wonderful place for discovering it with him. Best of all, he delighted to tell us about people—all kinds of people—but especially those of northern Siberia who lived in never-ending conflict with a harsh land.

When I grew up and left the village, I spent several years in the Far North, where I had many occasions to test the truth of this saying. Yes—I found warm hearts in plenty, but none warmer than that of Tim, who was of the Yakut tribe. Tim’s full name was Timofey. He was greatly respected by people among whom he lived, not only because he was honest and brave but because he had powerful fists to match his courage. When words failed to convince, his fists often could. One thing about him interested me in particular. He was a self-appointed champion of the chubuku, or wild mountain rams, and took every opportunity to plead with hunters to spare these rare animals who were fast disappearing from the region.

“Why?” I asked him one day, upon hearing him threaten to punish a hunter who dared kill a ram in that neighborhood. “Why do you put yourself out to befriend these creatures? Are they so precious to you?”

“Why?” he repeated my question. “That is simple. My step-father, Turgen, who was a Lamut, loved the mountain rams, and I made him a promise to protect them after he was gone. He is dead now—a fine man, as anyone will tell you. Perhaps you would like to hear about him.”

I assured him that I would....