62 TRAVELS IN THE EIGHTIES. 



journeyed up the Luleo to Quickjock and then re- 

 turned as he had come, says it was a continual fight 

 with them the whole way, " our hats and nets were 

 stained with blood." Several thin ones crawled 

 through the meshes, of our veils, though the maker 

 had warranted them small enough, and some actually 

 forced their way through a tiny hole in the crown of 

 my hat punched for ventilation. 



When crossing a bog between certain rapids there 

 seemed some uncertainty as to whether, between the 

 yielding soil and the remorseless onslaught of the 

 mosquitoes, one was likely to be soonest buried or 

 eaten alive. When one has not covered one's face 

 with tar and lard the tortures of the vampires felt like 

 a close rain of darts dipped in venom. The Lapps 

 smear their faces sometimes with an unctuous mixture 

 of tar and milk; but in either case the remedy is 

 almost as unpleasant as the disease. As we proceed 

 the phlegmatic and thick-skinned Swede slaps himself, 

 swears violently and wishes the mosquitoes anywhere 

 out of the world, dropping his oars for the purpose 

 of greater expression, and then rowing for a few 

 strokes harder than before to make up for the waste 

 of time. But custom is a second nature, and one even 

 gets accustomed to mosquitoes and every other annoy- 

 ance. The sun had long set when we started, but a 

 deep orange glow filled the northern sky. An intense 

 stillness reigned, broken only by the monotonous 

 plash of the oars as we rowed on hour after hour 

 down that great northern lake, rounding one head- 



