10 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



At one o'clock on 9th June, we passed the Angara, 

 the first of the three great tributaries of the Yenesei. 

 The steamer stopped at Trotzska, a small wooden 

 village at the mouth of the river, and we went ashore 

 for an hour to stretch our legs and give our poor dog 

 a run, for she was already very tired of her cramped 

 quarters on board the steamer. A few white wagtails 

 and house-sparrows were pecking on the rubbish-heaps 

 that surround every Russian village, and the banks of 

 the river were buzzing with sand-martins. Vassilli 

 brought me two of the latter birds that he caught 

 upon their nests, but it was evidently still too early 

 for eggs. 



After it had received the waters of its mighty 

 tributary, the Yenesei widened out to almost double 

 its former size. All the afternoon we steamed along 

 between low-lying pine woods, and, later, came abreast 

 of a forest fire which threw a lurid banner of smoke 

 across the river. It may have been the atoms of ash 

 in the atmosphere which made the sunset so gorgeous 

 that evening. The sun went down behind the trees 

 in a blaze of clouds, and the steamer seemed to travel 

 through blue and orange fire. Even the stolid 

 Siberiaks on deck paused in their incessant nut- 

 cracking to stare at the sky. 



We reached Yenesiesk on the evening of 10th June, 

 and after travelling for 217 miles through virgin forests, 

 it was strange to come suddenly upon a large town 

 with schools, churches, museum, and a picture palace 

 in the middle of the wilderness. Before the railway 

 came to Krasnoyarsk, Yenesiesk was the principal 



