216 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEl 



to sleep in the wet sheepskins, and for the greater part 

 of the night we lay aw^ake, listening to the rustle and 

 grunting of the reindeer as they grazed outside. 



Our hosts were early astir, and the first to awake 

 was the hard-working little mother, for she must make 

 the fire. Now a fire in the northern tundra, you must 

 know, is not a lavish heap of wood and coal, sprawled 

 all over the hearth to squander or replenish carelessly, 

 whenever and however you please, as it may be in the 

 south. In the tundra, fuel is of peculiar preciousness 

 — all wood must be carried from the banks of the Yenesei, 

 which may be scores of versts away, for the only 

 timber found upon the spot is that of the little green 

 willow scrub. Hence, when a fire is laid for kindling, 

 each chip and twig is ^Dlaced after a careful plan, and 

 when it is lighted, the pile is watched jealously and 

 raked together scientifically from time to time, in order 

 that the kettle may boil with the maximum of speed 

 and the minimum of fuel. Before the tea was made, 

 the three sons awoke and washed in turn. Each took 

 a mouthful of water from the scoop in the bucket by the 

 door, and let it trickle from his mouth over his hands. 

 We, who had not been educated up to this rather feline 

 but decidedly practical means of obtaining warm water, 

 contented ourselves with a splash in the icy stream 

 outside. These ablutions over, the Dolgans had a good 

 breakfast of fish, while we ate the European fare that 

 we had brought with us, and which, I am bound to say, 

 did not look nearly so good as theirs did ! 



The Sotnikoffs were in better circumstances than 

 many of the natives in those parts. Each spring they 



