Professor Forbes, however, describes a more comfortable cradle, which is cut out of solid wood, and covered with leather, in flaps so arranged as to lace across the top with leathern thongs; the inside is lined with reindeer moss, and a pillow, also of reindeer moss, is provided for the head of the infant, who fits the space so exactly that it can stir neither hand nor foot.
The Lapp is a bold hunter, and will encounter the bear single-handed. Like the Siberian, he entertains a superstitious reverence for this powerful animal, which he regards as the wisest and most acute of all the beasts of the field, and supposes to know and hear all that is said about it; but as its fur is valuable and its flesh well-favoured, he does not refrain from pursuing it to the death, though careful, so to speak, to kill it with the highest respect.
Early in winter the bear retires to a rocky cave, or a covert of branches, leaves, and moss, and there remains, without food, and in a state of torpidity, until the spring recalls him to active life. After the first snow-fall, the Lapp hunters seek the forest, and search for traces of their enemy. These being found, the spot is carefully marked, and after a few weeks they return, arouse the slumbering brute, and stimulate it to an attack; for to shoot it while asleep, or, indeed, to use any weapon but a lance, is considered dishonourable.
Hogguer, whose narrative is quoted by Hartwig, accompanied a couple of Lapps, well armed with axes and stout lances, on one of these dangerous expeditions. When about a hundred paces from the bear’s den, the party halted, and one of the Lapps advanced shouting, and his comrades made all the din they could. He ventured within twenty paces of the cavern, and then threw stones into it. For awhile all was quiet, and Hogguer began to think they had come upon an empty den; but suddenly an angry growl was heard.
The hunters now renewed and redoubled their clamour, until slowly, like an honest citizen roused from his virtuous sleep by a company of roisterers, the animal came forth from his lair.
At first he seemed indifferent and lethargic; but, catching sight of his nearest enemy, he was filled with rage, uttered a short but terrible roar, and rushed headlong upon him. The Lapp, with his lance in rest, awaited the onset calmly, while the bear, coming to close quarters, reared himself on his haunches, and struck at his antagonist with his fore paws.
To avoid these powerful strokes, the daring huntsman crouched, and then, with a sudden spring, drove his lance, impelled by a sturdy arm, and guided by a sure eye, into the creature’s heart.
The victor escaped with only a slight wound on the hand, but the marks of the bear’s teeth were found deeply impressed on the iron spear-head.
According to an old custom, the wives of the hunters assemble in one of their huts, and as soon as they hear them returning, raise a loud discordant chant in honour of the bear. When the men, loaded with their booty of skin and flesh, draw near, it is considered necessary to receive them with words of reproach and insult, and they are not allowed to enter through the door; they are compelled, therefore, to obtain admission through a hole in the wall. But when the animal’s manes have been thus propitiated, the women are not less eager than the men to make the most of its carcass; and after the skin, fat, and flesh have been removed, they cut up the body, and bury it with great ceremony, the head first, then the neck, next the fore paws, and so on, down to the animal’s “last,”—its tail. This is done from a wild belief that the bear rises from the dead, and if it has been properly interred, will kindly allow itself to be killed a second time by the same hunter!