212 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



ing the raindrops drip from the flanks of the patient 

 deer, while Vassilli and his brother Nicolai debated as 

 to what to do next. 



Suddenly a shout was heard, and Maxim, the 

 youngest of the three brothers, appeared on the opposite 

 bank. By his directions, we went to another ford, a 

 couple of hundred yards up the river. Here, although 

 the channel was wider, it was less deep, and the current 

 was less rapid. Moreover, there was a sandbank in 

 midstream where we ndght break the passage. Every- 

 thing was unloaded from the sledges, and, one by one, 

 Vassilli ferried us across to the sandbank. Then our 

 goods were brought over also, and although we had cut 

 all baggage down to the minimum, it needed several 

 journeys, for it would have been disastrous to overload 

 the canoe. At length only Nicolai was left behind. 

 He led the deer, team by team, down the bank, and 

 drove them into the river. After the first couple had 

 entered the water, the rest followed them readily 

 enough, and then Vassilli paddled over for the last time 

 to fetch his brother. Meanwhile, a tragedy occurred, 

 for, during his absence, the last team landed on a muddy 

 spit, which was almost as unstable as a quicksand. 

 Before the deer could be driven on to firmer ground 

 the treacherous surface melted beneath them, and they 

 sank down over their hocks. With some trouble three 

 of the deer were dragged ashore, but the fourth could not 

 rise, and when we hauled it out, we found that in its 

 struggles the poor brute had broken its hind leg 

 grievously. There was no help for it. Vassilli cut it 

 out of the harness lest it should hinder the others, and 



