72 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



birds, which, every spring when the ice breaks up on 

 the Yenesei, pours northwards to Dickson, to Solitude, 

 and to the far Taimyr, all in haste to make the most of 

 the short arctic summer and rear their young before 

 the ice should close down, and, like an iron hand, force 

 them southwards again. In spite of the bleak grey 

 skies overhead, there was something infectious in all 

 this activity and gaiety. It seemed as if the soul 

 of spring — the awakening of new life — was in the 

 air. I forgot all about the dismal prospects of the 

 previous night, and felt as happy and as glad of life 

 as any of the birds who sought so diligently by the 

 waterside. 



That day I had no opportunity of going over to 

 the mainland, for presently our host, Michael Petrovitch, 

 came out smiling all over his jolly face, and told us that 

 in the evening he was going to visit one of his fishing 

 stations about thirty versts farther down the river, and 

 suggested that we should go too. Needless to say we 

 were only too glad to accept this proposal, and it was 

 arranged that we should start at six o'clock. 



In the meantime Michael Petrovitch showed us his 

 team of dogs, of which he was exceedingly proud. On 

 the Yenesei, a good sledge dog is worth a hundred and 

 sixty roubles, but they are very difficult to obtain, for 

 a dog is not reckoned to be of much use for draught 

 purposes unless he has been reared by his owner. A 

 dog bought after he has grown up can never be relied 

 upon to find his way home as readily as one which has 

 lived in the same surroundings since puppyhood ; and 

 as this homing faculty may often be of inestimable 



