The botanist was with one voice condemned to pluck the ptarmigan, as he had been too lazy to pick the cloudberries. He went away with the birds, but, shameful to say, when he came back he had skinned them instead of plucking them. What barbarism! A fire was lighted, and a couple of pots were set over it. There was plenty of fuel, and we had an excellent kitchen. The smoke soon began to curl in the air, and protected us from the mosquitoes, so that we were able to take the veils off our faces. After having regaled ourselves with a capital meal, some of the party retired to rest. The Lapps laid themselves down on the ground under a birch-tree. They needed no tent. They drew themselves up, head, legs, and arms, within their coarse-woven garments, and had by this means both over and under clothing, as well as a protection from mosquitoes. Only an old Lapp, Nilas, and I remained sitting at the fire chatting, and smoking our clay pipes over a glass of grog. The nectar of life excited the Lapp; he became communicative, and I began to question him as to whether he knew anything about what had occurred in those parts in former times. I could see that there must have been people living in the district at some period. The grassy mounds were in places so regular, and of so remarkable a shape, besides being so neatly formed, that they must originally have been the work of man. ‘Have you seen the big wonderful stone that is lying close to the Kujasuga River?’ asked the Lapp. ‘No,’ I said; ‘I have never been here before, and I have neither seen nor heard of any stone. But let us go and look at it.’