76 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



the waterline. By and by, in the wide bay formed by 

 the angle of the promontory, we met with a barricade 

 of broken blocks of ice. At first they did not hinder our 

 passage, for we could easily steer between them, but as 

 we approached the point, they became so closely packed 

 that it was impossible to force a way through them, 

 especially as the whole mass was in surging motion. 

 Just then, however, a canoe, with two Yuraks at the 

 oars, and a Siberiak in the stern, put ofi" from the shore 

 and hailed us. By their directions we went round the 

 pack and presently found an open passage. But even 

 here it was necessary to go carefully, for the blocks, 

 some of them as large as a billiard table, were all grind- 

 ing against each other, and might easily have crushed 

 the canoe had it been caught between them. 



As soon as we landed, Michael Petrovitch introduced 

 the Siberiak to us as his agent — " Vassilli Vassillievitch." 

 The latter shook hands with us and invited us to his 

 house, which was a smaller and meaner edition of those 

 at Golcliika. Deep drifts of snow were still piled around 

 it, and these, with the clashing of the ice in the river, 

 made the place seem more wintry than anything that 

 we had yet seen. After passing through the dark 

 entrance of storerooms and dog kennels that cluster 

 against a Siberian house like a crop of barnacles upon 

 a rock, we pushed open a low door and stepped into 

 the kitchen, which in this case was also parlour, bed- 

 room, and bakehouse. Although the sun was shining 

 brightly outside, the room was so dark that at first I 

 could not see very well what was in it. A slight, gentle- 

 looking girl with a child in her arms came forward to 



