A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 231 



much drink)^in the place. Here was a kettle of fish, 

 for the weather was too bad to return to Golchika, and 

 a balagan during a carouse is not the most desirable 

 lodging. To make matters worse, the most sober of 

 the Siberiaks came forward with the news that Vassilli 

 Vassillievitch HachenkofF, whom Madame Antonoff had 

 intended to visit at Och Marino, had left his fishing, 

 and consequently his rent, to take care of itself, and 

 had been living for a fortnight at Swerifskye, drinking 

 hard all the time. There was nothing to be done but stay 

 where we were and hope that the wind would soon go 

 down. Fortunately there was not much vodka left 

 for Sylkin and his sons. My companions, escorted by 

 a jubilant crowd, went down to the chooms, while I 

 went for a ramble over the tundra. 



Swerifskye stood at the entrance to a broad, shallow 

 valley, which had been planed out of the river-bank 

 by some glacier of the older world. I explored this 

 glen for some distance, and then struck out over 

 the tundra, but it was late in the season, and I saw 

 nothing of particular interest. The golden plover were 

 already strong upon the wing, and the Lapland buntings 

 had gone up to the higher ground to moult in privacy 

 among the whortleberries. I saw no curlew-sandpipers, 

 although in some spots the ground looked very suitable 

 for them, and neither did I see, as I had hoped to 

 do, any BufFon's skuas. I shot a couple of dotterels, 

 a female and a young one just fledged, and at the end 

 of three hours, as the wind was remarkably cold, 

 and it began to rain, I returned to the fishing station. 

 Sounds of high revelry came from the chooms, but none 



