A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 211 



" Sit still, or death ! " was his dramatic and rather 

 disquieting command in broken Russian to his passenger 

 as he cautiously pushed off his little craft. But it was 

 soon evident that it would be hopeless to try and cross 

 at this point. The current was so strong that even 

 Vassilli, with all his skill with the paddle, could do no 

 more than keep the canoe's head to the wind, and so 

 prevent it from drifting broadside on and overturning 

 in the rough water. He was soon obliged to give up 

 the attempt and return to the bank. 



It would have been impossible to find a more forlorn - 

 looking party in the whole of Asia. Although it was 

 only six o'clock, and, according to the calendar, still the 

 season of perpetual day, the sky was so lowering that 

 a grey twilight seemed to brood over the wet tundra. 

 Out of the misty mud-hills to the east, the nameless 

 river flowed, no man knew whence, and disappeared 

 among the mud-hills to the west, no man knew whither. 

 Little lonely streams, whose sources were visited only 

 by the tundra foxes and the wild-fowl, ran down to 

 meet it. We seemed to be the only living things in a 

 land where there was no colour, nor any sound at all 

 except the swish of the wind over the lichens ; and as I 

 looked around I had the fantastic idea that here was a 

 world in the making. It seemed, as if in obedience to 

 the enunciation of some great law, the waters of a new 

 chaos had rolled sullenly back and let the land in all its 

 nakedness appear for the first time. I seemed to see 

 earth in its beginnings, as I stood with my back to the 

 wind, wriggling my toes in my wet boots to make sure 

 that they had not been frozen ofi" altogether, and watch- 



