ll dressed too, in a tight, round, leather cap, and a dark blue
kind of shaggy gown with hairy leggings; and what he was shooting at
was some kind of wild-duck or goose, that came tumbling down heavily
with the arrow right across its neck.

"There," said the boy, "I'll take that, and sell it to the Norse
bonder's wife up in the house above there."

"Who are you, then?" said Lucy.

"I'm a Lapp. We live on the hills, where the Norseman has not driven us
away, and the reindeer find their grass in summer and their moss in
winter."

"Oh! have you got reindeer? I should so like to see them and to drive in
a sledge!"

The boy, whose name was Peder, laughed, and said, "You can't go in a
sledge except when it is winter, with snow and ice to go upon, but I'll
soon show you a reindeer."

Then he led the way, past the deliciously smelling, whispering
pine-woods that sheltered the Norwegian homestead, starting a little
aside when a great, tall, fair-faced, fair-haired Norse farmer came
striding along, singing some old old song, as he carried a heavy log on
his shoulder, past a seater or mountain meadow where the girls were
pasturing their cows, much like Lucy's friends in the Tirol, out upon
the grey moorland, where there was an odd little cluster of tents
covered with skins, and droll little, short, stumpy people running about
them.

Peder gave a curious long cry, put his hand in his pocket, and pulled
out a lump of salt. Presently, a pair of long horns appeared, then
another, then a whole herd of the deer with big heads and horns growing
a good deal forward. The salt was held to them, and a rope was fastened
to all their horns that they might stand still in a line, while the
little Lapp women milked them. Peder went up to one of the women, and
brought back a little cupful for his visitor; it was all that one deer
gave, but it was so rich as to be almost like drinking cream. He led her
into one of the tents, but it was very smoky, and not much cleaner than
the Esquimaux. It is a wonder how Lucy could go to sleep there, but she
did, heartily wishing herself somewhere else.

CHAPTER VIII.

CHINA.

WAS it the scent of the perfumed tea, a present from an old sailor
friend, which Mrs. Bunker was putting away, or was it the sight of the
red jar ornamented with little black-and-gold men, with round caps, long
petticoats, and pigtails, that caused Lucy next to open her eyes upon a
cane sofa, with cushions ornamented w