A SUMMER ON THE YENESEl 195 



from Golchika seem so often to be merely the records 

 of meals that I am almost ashamed to say that here we 

 had some more food, six hours after the last. The only 

 excuse is that tramping over a swamp in the crisp air of 

 a Siberian night whets the appetite more thoroughly 

 than anything else that I know of Vassilli and I had 

 bread and cheese ; to Sylkin, who, as a Samoyede, was 

 immune from ptomaine poisoning, we gave some ham 

 which had been condemned by our commissariat depart- 

 ment at the hut. Sylkin, however, seemed to enjoy 

 his highly flavoured ration, to which was added a tot of 

 vino to keep the cold out. Vino on the Yenesei is the 

 popular name for prepared vodka. Vodka itself is 

 nearly pure alcohol, and the natives cannot afford to 

 drink it in its raw state. Therefore they dilute it with 

 water, and in order to preserve the burning flavour, 

 they doctor it with vinegar, pepper, or anything else 

 that will give it a sting. We used even to mix our 

 brew of viyio with curry powder and Worcester sauce. 

 The hotter it was, the more the natives liked it, and 

 even the women can gulp down a draught that would 

 blister the throat of a European. Sylkin tossed off the 

 decoction approvingly, and quoted as a grace his 

 favourite maxim that a little drink was good. 



On the opposite bank of the river stood a large 

 sledge. Vassilli and Sylkin discussed it for some time, 

 and then the former explained in graphic pantomime 

 that it belonged to the gods of the natives, to whom 

 they prayed. In some of the cliooms there is a sledge 

 set apart for sacred purposes, and occasionally a white 

 foxskin is hung up outside the tent as a shammanistic 



