FRIENDS 131 
They served our stewed goose in wooden bowls, and 
laughed much at our efforts to sit cross-legged in their 
fashion. I made them some cocoa, which they said was 
‘very, very good. Yes yes.’ Then old Uano begged 
my pipe. There was no pipe on the island, he said, and 
so I believed, for he let it go out every other moment. 
Everything we had, our matches, our spoons and forks, 
our boots and guns, were a wonder and delight to them. 
All were critically examined, and they wanted to have 
them all. 
Well, we laughed and talked till 3.30 a.m., then lay 
down on our reindeer skins for sleep. Hyland was 
asleep in a moment. But I lay for a long time smoking 
my pipe and taking in all the details of this curious place 
in which we lay. Then I too curled up, determined to 
sleep as long as ever I could. For I felt we deserved it. 
The first part of our endeavour was at any rate achieved. 
We had found the Samoyeds.! 
1 (1) Just as the Ostiaks call themselves ‘ Habi,’ so the Samoyeds call themselves 
‘Nyanitz.’ Also ‘Nyanitz’ is a Samoyed man, while ‘Nya’ is a Samoyed woman. 
The Samoyed name for a Russian woman is ‘ Habynia.’ They never say ‘ Baba.’ But 
very curiously the maznland Samoyeds, when pointing out one of their own women 
to me, said ‘ Barena,’ z.e. ‘ Lady,’ as opposed to ‘ woman.’ 
(2) I have just been reading in my journal a ‘ Review of our walk.’ It is too long 
by far to be quoted at length. But the following is curious, I fancy :—‘ The result of 
these various influences (cold, heat, frost, etc.) is a remarkable swelling of the hands 
and ears. Our hands are huge and puffy, the skin quite tight, and very, very dry and 
brittle. Almost every day I knock off a small bit of skin by some slight accidental 
touch, and it does not heal or get worse or ‘‘angry ”; only it slowly widens to a cut 
or crack, I have on my forefinger now a slit which began as a little chipped-off bit 
of skin (on the ship), and has gradually widened and deepened—it is just on the first 
joint—till it forms a clean deep cut across the finger and nearly to the bone. This 
is very interesting and curious. I think it is the effect of the extraordinary dry wind. 
The fact of our not perspiring under a heavy load in the baking sun is in itself 
worth noticing.’ 
