A SUMMER ON THE YENESEl 191 



So this Dolgan only grinned at us in friendly wise, 

 until Vassilli told him that Sylkin was near by ; and then 

 he shook up his rein with a shout and dashed away 

 like the wind to find his old friend. For every native 

 on the tundra knows every other, from Dudinka to 

 Dickson, and from the Pyasina to the Ob, and re- 

 cognises them by face and name whether they belong 

 to his own orda or not. 



A little farther on, where the marshes were still 

 flooded, a pair of red-throated divers screamed anxiously. 

 I waded out for a hundred yards through the sedge, 

 and found the nest. When first built, the birds must 

 have been able to swim right up to it, but the water 

 had subsided, and now they were obliged to drag 

 themselves for twelve or fifteen feet over the sphagnum, 

 which was scored by their breasts as though by the 

 coulter of a plough. I was splashing my way back 

 through the swamp, when Vassilli whistled to warn me 

 that a chorna chika — a Richardson's skua — was stoop- 

 ing at a bird in the willow scrub, about a hundred 

 yards away. We both ran to the spot, and found that 

 the prey was a pintail duck. At first I thought that 

 the bird was a female with a nest, for it only flopped 

 helplessly over the grass, as if willing to draw us from 

 the place ; but after it was secured it turned out to be 

 a drake in the middle of the moult, and quite an 

 interesting specimen, partly in breeding, and partly in 

 the so-called eclipse plumage. Most of the primary 

 wing feathers had been shed, and the bird was quite 

 unable to fly. The skua sheered ofl" at my approach, 

 and I could not have a shot at it. It belonged to the 



