292 ICE-BOUND ON KOLGUEV 
scrambled across the creek, and followed the chase as well 
as I could over the boggy ground. At last I came up to 
find the bird had taken refuge in a little lake. Mekolka, 
who had left his bow in the boat, was waiting for my 
arrival. He had not thrown his parlka because I had 
told him not to damage the feathers. 
I shot the bird. It was a Bewick swan, in full moult. 
I was glad to get these birds by way of proof. For 
before this I only had the eggs we obtained on the 
Kriva. 
The very bow Mekolka used to-day he had made this 
morning from a bit of driftwood. I have it now, and his 
curious little plane. 
When we reached camp little Wanka was playing 
with his reindeer. There is an old reindeer, a capital 
animal in a team, who is a perfect slave to the child. 
He will follow him about like a dog. And Wanka 
spends most of his day bullying this old deer. 
First of all he swaggers out, imitating most comically 
his father’s walk. Then with his little di-zha he makes 
many shots at the old deer (who does not protest), until 
at last he manages to get it by the horns. Then he 
harnesses, unharnesses, and generally maltreats it hour 
after hour. The boy is not strong enough to lift the 
deer’s legs (and that is a very important part of reindeer 
management), but this matters little, for the old deer well 
understands the game, and at a touch from Wanka lifts 
its Jegs itself. How many times this performance is gone 
