A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 87 



some difficulty, for the boat was pitching violently, and 

 the least movement brought the water right up to the 

 gunwale, but Michael Petrovitch presently went to the 

 vacant oar, and Vassilli, with a sigh of relief, took up 

 the steering paddle. I set to work with the scoop in 

 the stern, while Mr. Hall baled out the bow with his 

 boot, and, between us, we managed to keep the water 

 down. But, blew it never so hard, nothing seemed to 

 ruffle the good humour of Michael Petrovitch. No 

 matter how much water came slapping over the side, 

 whenever I looked at him I met a beaming smile and 

 cheerful '' Horroshie ! " i.e. "First-rate!" — a smile 

 which towards the end of our passage, what with the 

 wet and the cold, I confess I found it difficult to answer 

 equally gaily. He continually laughed and talked to 

 Nill, and tried to make him forget his fatigue by telling 

 him stories and recalling old adventures. And Nill, 

 who evidently adored his master, grinned all over his 

 ugly face and pulled at his oar like a hero. 



But in spite of their effi^rts our progress was 

 desperately slow. There was, I remember, a high mud- 

 hill on the shore which we had just left. The snow lay 

 upon its face in curious ridges, which recalled the rows 

 of arches along a cathedral aisle. Subconsciously I made 

 that cliff into a landmark by which to judge of our 

 progress, and the detestable outline became, so to speak, 

 photographed on my brain, so often did I look back at 

 it, only to find that in spite of all our efforts we were 

 slowly drifting backwards with the stream. 



We had left Och Marino at five o'clock in the morn- 

 ing, and it was three o'clock in the afternoon before we 



