ble adaptation of the animal to its uses. Its hoof resembles that
of the camel, being formed for snow, as the latter for sand. It is
broad, cloven and flexible, the separate divisions spreading out so as
to present a resisting surface when the foot is set down, and falling
together when it is lifted. Thus in snow where a horse would founder in
the space of a hundred yards, the deer easily works his way, mile after
mile, drawing the sliding, canoe-like pulk, burdened with his master's
weight, after him.

The Lapps generally treat their animals with the greatest patience and
forbearance, but otherwise do not exhibit any particular attachment for
them. They are indebted to them for food, clothing, habitation and
conveyance, and their very existence may therefore almost be said to
depend on that of their herds. It is surprising, however, what a number
of deer are requisite for the support of a family. Von Buch says that a
Lapp who has a hundred deer is poor, and will be finally driven to
descend to the coast, and take to fishing. The does are never made to
labour, but are kept in the woods for milking and breeding. Their milk
is rich and nourishing, but less agreeable to the taste than that of the
cow. The cheese made from it is strong and not particularly palatable.
It yields an oil which is the sovereign specific for frozen flesh. The
male deer used for draft are always castrated, which operation the old
Lapp women perform by slowly chewing the glands between their teeth
until they are reduced to a pulp, without wounding the hide.

During this journey I had ample opportunity of familiarising myself with
reindeer travel. It is picturesque enough at the outset, but when the
novelty of the thing is worn off nothing is left but a continual drain
upon one's patience. Nothing can exceed the coolness with which your
deer jumps off the track, slackens his tow-rope, turns around and looks
you in the face, as much as to say: "What are you going to do about
it?" The simplicity and stupidity of his countenance seem to you to be
admirably feigned, and unless you are an old hand you are inevitably
provoked. This is particularly pleasant on the marshy table-lands of
Lapland, where, if he takes a notion to bolt with you, your pulk bounces
over the hard tussocks, sheers sideways down the sudden pitches, or
swamps itself in beds of loose snow. Harness a frisky sturgeon to a
"dug-out," in a rough sea, and you will have some idea of this met