TO THE HOLY HILLS 361 



On the wood-work of the shelter of the companion 

 were deeply carved in block capitals the English words 

 TESS OF CROMER. Alexander could tell me nothing 

 more than that it was part of a bit of wreckage picked 

 up by himself on the Kolguev sandbanks twelve years 

 ago. Since my return home I have done my best to 

 trace this boat, but without success. 



But to return. Alexander after this function betrayed 

 but one more sisfn of irresolution. How could he enter 

 the Timanskii Schar at night? 'Well, you must hang- 

 about till the morning,' I replied, 'but you ought to 

 have lanterns at these entrances, as we in England do.' 

 Whereupon says Yakoff, 'Ah, he's getting frightened now; 

 he says there ought to be a lantern.' And they all took 

 it jeeringly up like a stage chorus, showing the curious 

 nervous state into which they had worked themselves. 



So we weighed anchor and moved out one behind the 

 other. Over the bar we found eight feet of water, and 

 got safely out. Very soon we were clear of the fog, 

 which we could see, whenever we looked back, hanging 

 like a pall of cloud over the island. We had done it. 

 Kolguev was behind us. 



Kolguev, with its kind hearts and its barbarous con- 

 tradictions, its many delights and many discomforts, its 

 treeless wastes and its charm of birds, its reindeer, its 

 sleighs, its careless existence— all these were things of 

 the past. 



This time it really was ' Good-bye, Kolguev ! ' 



