"Perhaps this seems a cold place to you, when you think of the warm farmhouse you left yesterday," said one of the workmen to Henrik. "You ought to go to the far north, and visit the Lapps. Ah! you will find plenty of cold weather there. But those queer people don't seem to notice it very much. I suppose that is because they have got used to it, since they never lived anywhere else."

"Do tell us about them," begged Ole. "I didn't know you had ever been to Lapland, Adolf."

"Yes, when I was a young man I was a great hunter, Ole. I have travelled all over this country and have seen many strange sights."

"I should like to be a hunter, too," said Henrik. "It must be great sport getting the wild reindeer. But go on, Adolf, and tell us about the homes of the Lapps, and their herds of tame reindeer, as well as the queer ways of the people."

"They are a strange people, that is a fact," said Adolf. "They are queer-looking and queer in their ways. They are very small, few of them over five feet tall, and they are quite stout. Their skin is of a dark yellow; the hair is jet-black, coarse and straight; their cheek-bones, high; and their eyes are blue and small. Their little noses turn up in a comical way, and their mouths are often open as though they were surprised at something."

"I suppose they dress in fur, don't they?" asked Ole.

"O yes, from head to foot. But they get all they need from the skins of their reindeer. They wear high boots bound tightly around their legs in winter-time, so they are able to keep dry, even if they are out in the worst snow-storm."

"What are their houses made of?" asked Henrik. "I suppose lumber is scarce where they live."

"Sometimes the people make a frame-work of timber and cover it first with skins and then with turf. Sometimes the hut is built of stones, over which the turf is thickly laid. But it is always in the shape of a mound."

"Are there any windows in the hut?"

"No, Ole, and so, of course, the air inside is very close and unpleasant. There isn't even a chimney. A hole is left in the roof large enough to let out the smoke; that is all. When the short summer comes round, the Lapps prefer to live in deer-skin tents, and I can't say I blame them."

"Did you ever visit them in their homes, Adolf?" asked Henrik.

"Yes, I stayed with a family of them over night. They seemed very friendly and tried to make my visit pleasant, but I didn't enjoy it very much, it was such a dirty, smoky place.

"In the middle of the room was a stone fireplace, over which hung the kettle when our supper was cooked. They all squatted on deer-skins around the fire. When I had been there a few minutes, I heard a noise overhead. I looked up and saw a dear little blue-eyed baby, swinging in a hammock and cooing to me. I reached up and took it down, and it snuggled in my arms as though it knew I was a friend."

"What did you have for supper?" asked the farmer.

"Everything came from the reindeer, of course. There was plenty of rich milk, besides a good-sized cheese and a meat stew. I have eaten worse meals since, many times."

"But how did you sleep?"

"The beds were easily made by stretching deer-skins on the floor. We covered ourselves with more skins, and lay snug and warm till morning."

"Did you sleep more warmly than we do here?" The farmer laughed as he said it.

"I must say I did," replied Adolf, with an answering laugh.

"Although the Lapps' huts are far from beautiful, they are made so that wind and snow cannot blow in, at any rate." Adolf pointed to a ridge of snow that had sifted in through the wall, although they had stuffed the cracks as well as they could with dried moss.

"But, dear me! the Lapps wouldn't mind it very much if it did," he went on. "The men will lie down to sleep in an open field on rocks or snow, if they are not near their home. They are not afraid of the cold, and it seldom seems to hurt them, either.

"As I lay on the floor of the hut that night, I could see rows of smoked meat and fish hanging against the sides of the walls. They have neither storehouses nor closets, so they are obliged to keep their provisions in the huts.

"The next morning I went out among the reindeer with the chief of the settlement. I believe there were more than a thousand reindeer in sight. It was milking-day and the men were having a lively time of it. They had to catch each animal and hold it still with a lasso while the milking was done."

"Why did you speak of milking-day, Adolf? Don't the Lapps milk the reindeer as often as we do our cows?"

"No, indeed. It is done only once a week, because the creatures are so wild. They are not gentle and tame, as you have probably supposed. They can be managed very well in driving, however. It is great sport to ride behind a team of reindeer, for one flies over the snow like the wind. Their masters sometimes drive them a hundred miles in a day."

"That is good, for I have heard that the Lapps don't stay in one place all their lives. They are a wandering people, aren't they?"

"Yes, Ole, but one reason for that is the need of finding good feeding-grounds for their deer. When one place becomes bare, they must seek another. Then, again, in the summer-time they like to go to the rivers and camp beside them for the sake of the salmon fishing. They are as fond as we of a good dish of salmon for dinner."

"What do the reindeer feed on?" asked Henrik.

"In winter they paw away the snow and find the lichen, which is a little gray plant very much like the moss you see growing on the mountainside about here. In summer they eat the young and tender shoots on the bushes and low trees. They are very hardy creatures and among the most useful."

"Just think!" cried Ole. "The reindeer furnish the Lapps with everything they need,—their clothing, food, and shelter; and, as if that were not enough, they make good beasts of burden, and carry their masters wherever they wish to go."

"I shall tell Mari all about them when I get home," Ole went on. "I know one question my busy little sister will ask at once. She will say, 'What do the women and children do with themselves all the time?' How shall I answer that question, Adolf?"

"You may tell Mari there is plenty of work for them. They dress the reindeer skins, and make lovely rugs and warm slippers turned up at the toes and bound with red."

"Why, yes, Ole, your mother has a pair of slippers made by the Lapp women," interrupted his father. "I bought them for her at Bergen, and she wears them on cold winter mornings."

"That is so, I remember them; but I never thought about the Lapps when I looked at them," answered Ole. "Is there anything else the women of Lapland make, Adolf?"

"Many things. They showed me knives and spoons they had shaped out of the horns of the reindeer. They were very pretty, and a great deal of time must have been spent on the carving. The men and boys do most of this last work. I really think the most wonderful thing I saw was the thread the women make of the reindeer sinews. It is fine and even, yet very strong. I wish I could have seen them making it."

Adolf yawned. "I am so sleepy I think it must be bedtime. There's a hard day's work before us to-morrow."

After fresh wood had been laid on the fire, the party quickly settled themselves for the night's rest.