mo tCE-BOUND ON KOLGUEV 



This night we did not sleep. I have never been out 

 on a lovelier night. There was not a trace of fog. Clear as 

 it had been all day, the wind died down at morning. And 

 over the little lake, half covered with thick broken floes, 

 you could look, and far away across the tundra, for there 

 was no mirage now. Grey and purple the peat waves of 

 the tundra rolled on and on, and the sun as it rose higher 

 (it had never set, remember) touched the little distant 

 tarns till they twinkled like the dewdrops on the lawn 

 at home, or drew off the top of the marshes small soft 

 clouds of white. 



We lay under the shadow of the bank while the 

 further side of the lake was lit with sunshine. It was 

 all worth looking at. I felt it was not a bad thing to 

 be houseless on Kolguev just then. 



And soon after midnight, just as the lake itself began 

 to steam, we had a visitor. Down from the top of the 

 bank on the further side jauntily stepped a little fox, and 

 sat looking down at the floe below him. He was patchily 

 coloured blue and white ; ' christovatik,' as the Russians 

 call it, because the dark mark on back and shoulders 

 shows the form of a cross when the animal is skinned. 



June 28M. — We moved on at 5 a.m. 



You will perhaps recollect that all this time we have 

 been steering for Stanavoi Scharok. But last night, 

 after thinking over the whole position, I had changed 

 my plans. 



