tiorna. "There is not a man, woman, or
child, on any seater in Sulitelma, who would touch a cheese laid out for
the mountain-demon."

"Perhaps not. I never watched, to see what happens when the Gammel
cheese is left alone. I only say I do not grudge our cheese, as
somebody has it. I will carry it myself, in token of good-will, if you
will let me, Erica. Here,--shift it upon my head."

Erica would not hear of this, and began to walk away with her load,
begging Stiorna to watch the cattle,--not once to take her eye off them,
till she should return to assume her watch for the night hours.

"I know why you will not let me carry the cheese," said Frolich,
smiling. "You are thinking of Oddo with the cake and ale. Nobody but
you must deposit offerings henceforward. You are afraid I should eat up
that cheese, almost as heavy as myself. You think there would not be a
paring left for the demon, by the time I got to the ridge."

"Not so," replied Erica. "I think that he to whom this cheese is
destined had rather be served by one who does not laugh at him. And it
is a safer plan for you, Frolich."

And off went Erica with her cheese.

The ridge on which she laid it would have tempted her at any other time
to sit down. It was green and soft with mosses, and offered as
comfortable a couch to one tired with the labours of the day as any to
be found at the farm. But, to-night it was to be haunted: so Erica
merely stayed to do her duty. She selected the softest tuft of moss on
which to lay the cheese, put her offering reverently down, and then
diligently gathered the brightest blossoms from the herbage around, and
strewed them over the cheese. She then walked rapidly homewards,
without once looking behind her. If she had had the curiosity and
courage to watch for a little while, she would have seen her offering
carried off by an odd little figure, with nothing very terrible in its
appearance; namely, a woman about four feet high, with a flat face, and
eyes wide apart, wearing a reindeer garment like a waggoner's frock, a
red comforter about her neck, a red cloth cap on her head, a blue
worsted sash, and leather boots up to the knee:--in short, such a
Lapland girl as Erica would have given a rye-cake to as charity, but
would not have thought of asking to sit down, even in her master's
kitchen;--for the Norwegian servants are very high and saucy towards the
Lapps who wander to their doors. It is not surprising that