boy willingly assented, so the girl went with the reindeer to themountains.
"The herd yearned for the good pastures there, and every day trampedlong distances to feed on the moss. There was not time to pitch tents.The children had to lie on the snowy ground and sleep when the reindeerstopped to graze. The girl often sighed and complained of being so tiredthat she must turn back to the valley. Nevertheless she went along toavoid being left without human companionship.
"When they reached the highlands the boy pitched a tent for the girl ona pretty hill that sloped toward a mountain brook.
"In the evening he lassoed and milked the reindeer, and gave the girlmilk to drink. He brought forth dried reindeer meat and reindeer cheese,which his people had stowed away on the heights when they were there thesummer before.
"Still the girl grumbled all the while, and was never satisfied. Shewould eat neither reindeer meat nor reindeer cheese, nor would she drinkreindeer milk. She could not accustom herself to squatting in the tentor to lying on the ground with only a reindeer skin and some sprucetwigs for a bed.
"The son of the mountains laughed at her woes and continued to treat herkindly.
"After a few days, the girl went up to the boy when he was milking andasked if she might help him. She next undertook to make the fire underthe kettle, in which the reindeer meat was to be cooked, then to carrywater and to make cheese. So the time passed pleasantly. The weather wasmild and food was easily procured. Together they set snares for game,fished for salmon-trout in the rapids and picked cloud-berries in theswamp.
"When the summer was gone, they moved farther down the mountains, wherepine and leaf forests meet. There they pitched their tent. They had towork hard every day, but fared better, for food was even more plentifulthan in the summer because of the game.
"When the snow came and the lakes began to freeze, they drew farthereast toward the dense pine forests.
"As soon as the tent was up, the winter's work began. The boy taught thegirl to make twine from reindeer sinews, to treat skins, to make shoesand clothing of hides, to make combs and tools of reindeer horn, totravel on skis, and to drive a sledge drawn by reindeer.
"When they had lived through the dark winter and the sun began to shineall day and most of the night, the boy said to the girl that now hewould accompany her southward, so that she might meet some of her ownrace.
"Then the girl looked at him astonished.
"'Why do you want to send me away?' she asked. 'Do you long to be alonewith your reindeer?'
"'I thought that you were the one that longed to get away?' said theboy.
"'I have lived the life of the Samefolk almost a year now,' replied thegirl. I can't return to my people and live the shut-in life after havingwandered freely on mountains and in forests. Don't drive me away, butlet me stay here. Your way of living is better than ours.'
"The girl stayed with the boy for the rest of her life, and never againdid she long for the valleys. And you, Osa, if you were to stay with usonly a month, you could never again part from us."
With these words, Aslak, the Lapp boy, finished his story. Just then hisfather, Ola Serka, took the pipe from his mouth and rose.
Old Ola understood more Swedish than he was willing to have any oneknow, and he had overheard his son's remarks. While he was listening, ithad suddenly flashed on him how he should handle this delicate matter oftelling Jon Esserson that his daughter had come in search of him.
Ola Serka went down to Lake Luossajaure and had walked a short distancealong the strand, when he happened upon a man who sat on a rock fishing.
The fisherman was gray-haired and bent. His eyes blinked wearily andthere was something slack and helpless about him. He looked like a manwho had tried to carry a burden too heavy for him, or to solve a problemtoo difficult for him, who had become broken and despondent over hisfailure.
"You must have had luck with your fishing, Jon, since you've been at itall night?" said the mountaineer in Lappish, as he approached.
The fisherman gave a start, then glanced up. The bait on his hook wasgone and not a fish lay on the strand beside him. He hastened to rebaitthe hook and throw out the line. In the meantime the mountaineersquatted on the grass beside him.
"There's a matter that I wanted to talk over with you," said Ola. "Youknow that I had a little daughter who died last winter, and we havealways missed her in the tent."
"Yes, I know," said the fisherman abruptly, a cloud passing over hisface--as though he disliked being reminded of a dead child.
"It's not worth while to spend one's life grieving," said the Laplander.
"I suppose it isn't."
"Now I'm thinking of adopting another child. Don't you think it would bea good idea?"
"That depends on the child, Ola."
"I will tell you what I know of the girl," said Ola. Then he told thefisherman that around midsummer-time, two strange children--a boy and agirl--had come to the mines to look for their father, but as theirfather was away, they had stayed to await his return. While there, theboy had been killed by a blast of rock.
Thereupon Ola gave a beautiful description of how brave the little girlhad been, and of how she had won the admiration and sympathy ofeveryone.
"Is that the girl you want to take into your tent?" asked thefisherman.
"Yes," returned the Lapp. "When we heard her story we were all deeplytouched and said among ourselves that so good a sister would also make agood daughter, and we hoped that she would come to us."
The fisherman sat quietly thinking a moment. It was plain that hecontinued the conversation only to please his friend, the Lapp.
"I presume the girl is one of your race?"
"No," said Ola, "she doesn't belong to the Samefolk."
"Perhaps she's the daughter of some new settler and is accustomed to thelife here?"
"No, she's from the far south," replied Ola, as if this was of smallimportance.
The fisherman grew more interested.
"Then I don't believe that you can take her," he said. "It's doubtful ifshe could stand living in a tent in winter, since she was not brought upthat way."
"She will find kind parents and kind brothers and sisters in the tent,"insisted Ola Serka. "It's worse to be alone than to freeze."
The fisherman became more and more zealous to prevent the adoption. Itseemed as if he could not bear the thought of a child of Swedish parentsbeing taken in by Laplanders.
"You said just now that she had a father in the mine."
"He's dead," said the Lapp abruptly.
"I suppose you have thoroughly investigated this matter, Ola?"
"What's the use of going to all that trouble?" disdained the Lapp. "Iought to know! Would the girl and her brother have been obliged to roamabout the country if they had a father living? Would two children havebeen forced to care for themselves if they had a father? The girlherself thinks he's alive, but I say that he must be dead."
The man with the tired eyes turned to Ola.
"What is the girl's name, Ola?" he asked.
The mountaineer thought awhile, then said:
"I can't remember it. I must ask her."
"Ask her! Is she already here?"
"She's down at the camp."
"What, Ola! Have you taken her in before knowing her father's wishes?"
"What do I care for her father! If he isn't dead, he's probably the kindof man who cares nothing for his child. He may be glad to have anothertake her in hand."
The fisherman threw down his rod and rose with an alertness in hismovements that bespoke new life.
"I don't think her father can be like other folk," continued themountaineer. "I dare say he is a man who is haunted by gloomyforebodings and therefore can not work steadily. What kind of a fatherwould that be for the girl?"
While Ola was talking the fisherman started up the strand.
"Where are you going?" queried the Lapp.
"I'm going to have a look at your foster-daughter, Ola."
"Good!"
said the Lapp. "Come along and meet her. I think you'll saythat she will be a good daughter to me."
The Swede rushed on so rapidly that the Laplander could hardly keep pacewith him.
After a moment Ola said to his companion:
"Now I recall that her name is Osa--this girl I'm adopting."
The other man only kept hurrying along and old Ola Serka was so wellpleased that he wanted to laugh aloud.
When they came in sight of the tents, Ola said a few words more.
"She came here to us Samefolk to find her father and not to become myfoster-child. But if she doesn't find him, I shall be glad to keep
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