126 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



wing at once, but when I went to tlie place whence she 

 had risen, there was no sign of the nest. This happened 

 twice, but as she returned to the same spot each time, 

 I knew that the treasure was there all right, and that 

 patience would win it. The great difficulty in marking 

 down nests on the tundra is the absence of all landmarks. 

 You settle exactly in your own mind where the place is, 

 and then note the position by means of some hillock or 

 grass tuft on the skyline. This mark looks enormous 

 through the field-glasses, and you think that it will be 

 impossible to mistake it. When you look for it with 

 the naked eye you are not quite so sure : it may take a 

 minute or two to pick it up again. Then you stand up, 

 and away goes your bird — and your landmark likewise, 

 faded from the skyline, back into the tundra. I marked 

 the bird down by a dodge that I used when looking for 

 grey plovers' eggs under similar circumstances, and 

 which is described elsewhere ; but each time that I 

 flushed her, she seemed to jump up from a different 

 place. She was so little and so nimble that she could 

 run over the moss for some yards before she was seen. 

 The next time I gave her ample time to settle down, 

 and lay still in the wet, sucking lumps of sugar until 

 I nearly fell asleep. Then all at once a Buffon's skua 

 came overhead, flying low in the squally wind. I 

 snatched my gun and shot him as he flew by, and as he 

 fell I saw the sandpiper spring up from a spot where I 

 had marked her once before, I left the skua and ran 

 up to the place. The bird began to call again, and 

 drooped a wing to decoy me away. Half a minute's 

 search and there was the nest at my feet. It exactly 



