The reindeer bounded with joy, and the robber-maiden lifted Gerda on his back, taking the precaution to bind her on firmly, as well as to give her a little cushion to sit on. ‘And here,’ said she, ‘are your fur boots, you will need them in that cold country; the muff I must keep myself, it is too pretty to part with; but you shall not be frozen. Here are my mother’s huge gloves, they reach up to the elbow; put them on--now your hands look as clumsy as my old mother’s!’ And Gerda shed tears of joy. ‘I cannot bear to see you crying!’ said the little robber-maiden, ‘you ought to look glad; see, here are two loaves and a piece of bacon for you, that you may not be hungry on the way.’ She fastened this provender also on the reindeer’s back, opened the door, called away the great dogs, and then cutting asunder with her dagger the rope which bound the reindeer, shouted to him, ‘Now then, run! but take good care of the little girl.’ And Gerda stretched out her hands to the robber-maiden and bade her farewell, and the reindeer fleeted through the forest, over stock and stone, over desert and heath, over meadow and moor. The wolves howled and the ravens shrieked. ‘Isch! Isch!’ a red light flashed--one might have fancied the sky was sneezing. ‘Those are my dear old Northern Lights!’ said the reindeer; ‘look at them, how beautiful they are!’ And he ran faster than ever, night and day he ran--the loaves were eaten, so was the bacon--at last they were in Lapland. [Illustration: AND FLAPPED HIS BLACK WINGS AT THE CARRIAGE TILL IT WAS OUT OF SIGHT] PART THE SIXTH THE LAPLAND WOMAN AND THE FINLAND WOMAN They stopped at a little hut, a wretched hut it was; the roof very nearly touched the ground, and the door was so low that whoever wished to go either in or out was obliged to crawl upon hands and knees. No one was at home except the old Lapland woman, who was busy boiling fish over a lamp filled with train oil. The reindeer related to her Gerda’s whole history, not, however, till after he had made her acquainted with his own, which appeared to him of much more importance. Poor Gerda, meanwhile, was so overpowered by the cold that she could not speak. ‘Ah, poor things!’ said the Lapland woman, ‘you have still a long way before you! You have a hundred miles to run before you can arrive in Finland: the Snow Queen dwells there, and burns blue lights every evening. I will write for you a few words on a piece of dried stock-fish--paper I have none--and you may take it with you to the wise Finland woman who lives there; she will advise you better than I can.’ So when Gerda had well warmed herself and taken some food, the Lapland woman wrote a few words on a dried stock-fish, bade Gerda take care of it, and bound her once more firmly on the reindeer’s back.