FRIENDS 127 



with bewildered looks. In my bad Russian I did my 

 best. It was a comical conversation. 



' You Samoyed ? ' 



' Yes yes, Samoyedi — Samodine, yes yes. Nyanitz, 

 in Samoyed Nyanitz! So we had already learnt the 

 native name of the people. 



' We Englishmen ' — (we might as well have said ' We 

 Angels,' for all they understood). ' Englishmen from 

 the Gusina.' 



'Ah, Gusina,' said the woman quickly. 'Yes, yes, 

 Gusina, Gusina, yes, yes,' the man went on. These 

 people have caught and amplified the Russian repetitive. 



' We walk on foot from Gusina.' He didn't understand, 

 so I stamped round. Then he grasped my meaning. 



' No, no, not possible. Much hardt. No, no.' 



' Yes, yes, very hard, but quite true.' 



(But he didn't mean that. 'Hardt' is Samoyed for 

 snow. ) 



Then I gave them both a little whisky, for I had a 

 flask that held a wineglass and a half. This put us all 

 on better terms. 



I told him he must take us back to get our things ; 

 that my choom was there. At this they laughed, but 

 said ' Impossible. Reindeer ill.' 



So I showed the Governor's letter. The spread-eagle 

 they recognised, nothing else. 



There was something about these small people, 

 absolute masters of all we saw, that gave me an un- 



