REINDEER-STALKING IN RYFYLKE. 
43 
facts struck us. First, that the ravens, which, before 
a kill, had circled round inquiringly within thirty yards, 
were now extremely wary. Perhaps this arose from 
evil conscience, for they had purloined one deer’s tongue 
and done other mischief. No other birds or beasts of 
prey had touched our meat. The second phenomenon 
was the swarms of bluebottle flies that had assembled. 
Hitherto we had seen no insect-life out here; even the 
mosquito was absent, and a careful census kept for the 
last ten days only included two small gnats, one spider 
(a big fellow with red spots), and one blue-bordered 
carabus, besides a few house-flies in the hut. Yet now 
whole swarms of bluebottles had apparently sprung into 
being from nothing; and on some half-digested grass 
disgorged by one of the deer, were congregated a host 
of another kind—the common yellow dung-fly. 
The skilfully-carved joints being piled in a huge 
mass beneath an overhanging rock, Lars and Paul each 
shouldered a heavy sack-full (about 150 lbs.), with 
which, plus a skin apiece, we set out homewards. Hard 
by the hut, we observed an ominous apparition—a 
stranger; but he proved to be quite harmless, merely 
a messenger sent out (twenty-one miles) with an unim¬ 
portant telegram for me. We had to put him up, but 
utilized him next morning to send a message to the 
valley concerning the meat. Two days later, six men 
arrived to carry it off, quite content to do the tremen¬ 
dous walk—in all, some sixty miles across the moun¬ 
tains—for the sake of the hundredweight of venison 
which each carried off on his back. For days this gory 
traffic continued, till not an ounce of meat remained. 
The gratitude expressed was profuse and sincere; but 
