FRIENDS 127 
with bewildered looks, In my bad Russian I did my 
best. It was a comical conversation. 
“You Samoyed ?’ 
‘Yes yes, Samoyedi—Samodine, yes yes. Nyanitz, 
in Samoyed Myanztz. So we had already learnt the 
native name of the people. 
‘We Englishmen ’—(we might as well have said ‘We 
Angels, for all they understood). ‘Englishmen from 
the Gusina.’ 
‘Ah, Gusina,’ said the woman quickly. ‘Yes, yes, 
Gusina, Gusina, yes, yes,’ the man went on, These 
people have caught and amplified the Russian repetitive. 
‘We walk on foot from Gusina.’ He didn’t understand, 
so I stamped round. Then he grasped my meaning. 
‘No, no, not possible. Much hardt. No, no.’ 
‘Yes, yes, very hard, but quite true.’ 
(But he didn’t mean that. ‘Hardt’ is Samoyed for 
snow.) 
Then I gave them both a little whisky, for I had a 
flask that held a wineglass and a half. This put us all 
on better terms. 
I told him he must take us back to get our things ; 
that my choom was there. At this they laughed, but 
said ‘Impossible. Reindeer ill.’ 
So I showed the Governor’s letter.. The spread-eagle 
they recognised, nothing else. 
There was something about these small people, 
absolute masters of all we saw, that gave me an un- 
