232 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEl 



of our party were in sight. I tried the door of the 

 nearest balagan, and found Vassilli Vassillievitch lying 

 in a drunken slumber in one corner and Madame 

 AntonofF keeping watch in the other. Nill lay across 

 the door like a faithful dog ; but when I came in he 

 evidently thought that his guard was relieved, and 

 lumbered out. It was dark and damp in the balagan, 

 but at least it was warmer than the wet beach outside. 

 Madame AntonofF and I sheltered there for some time, 

 until, lulled by the snores of Vassilli Vassillievitch, we 

 both fell asleep. About ten o'clock the remainder 

 of the party turned up, very wet and very hungry. 

 They had gone for a walk, and had fallen into a bog on 

 the way home. We therefore made up an immense fire 

 on the beach, and bivouacked there for the night. The 

 sky was clear, and although the wind was as cool as an 

 English November, the sand was quite dry, and we 

 slept very comfortably in sheepskins. One of our party 

 commandeered an empty fish barrel, and spent the 

 night in this Diogenes-like dormitory. She declared 

 that it was very cosy, but the rest of us preferred 

 to creep under the lee of a piece of driftwood. 



In the morning we made a fire and cooked breakfast, 

 and during the meal we held a council of war. The 

 weather was too bad for the boat to venture either to 

 Golchika or Och Marino, but Madame Antonofif was 

 anxious to take Vassilli Vassillievitch back to his home. 

 It seemed that during his absence the girl had been 

 left all alone in the house with the ailing baby. Twice 

 she had sent messages by the natives, entreating him to 

 return and bring food, for she had nothing but black 



