Where these herder Lapps, who were our hosts just then in Arctic Lapland, had their strong-room we were not indelicate enough to inquire, but we did push questions, as far as they would go, upon another point--we wanted to witness some practical sorcery. We wished to see the drum brought out, a genuine active curse performed, and then watch it go home to roost. When I had lived with Laplanders before, I had seen nothing of these things, and well-informed friends afterwards had blamed me for not furthering questions and watching real _bona fide_ sorcery in full working action.
Such a thing as witch-, or rather wizard-craft seemed an anachronism, and yet it was undoubtedly done and believed in. Many a Norwegian valley farmer, who has offended his Fin-ne neighbour, has been told that his sheep or his oxen shall in consequence suffer, and has watched the poor brutes pine away and die from no apparent ailment. From a distance one glibly diagnoses poison cunningly administered, but on the spot one seems to grasp that some other influence is at work which is not so easily explained away.
We were keen, then, to see this sorcery process in full working order. We wanted to inspect the oval-headed drum with its curious figuring which is the outward and visible sign, and to watch all the ritual of spell-weaving by a recognised practitioner. We were prepared to supply him with a subject. Hayter and I both agreed that there was a certain large fat man of our acquaintance whom we would gladly sacrifice to the cause of science. Hayter should draw his portrait, we would have him thoroughly cursed, and we would go back to England and note the result for ourselves. If the fat man had dwindled appreciably, then we would credit the powers of Lapland sorcerers; otherwise we would withhold judgment, or perhaps go so far as to disbelieve.
So we broached the matter openly round the camp-fire. Our grimy host grinned and shook his head. Hayter drew the fat man's portrait and held it out alluringly. Our host sighed; the fat man was certainly a most tempting subject to carry a real good, comprehensive curse. But as he sighed, he shook his head. He said he had thrown up his practice as a sorcerer; he tried to imply he had sold it, and then he denied having ever practised at all. Yes, he quite understood what we wanted; he looked at the portrait hungrily, and rubbed his scrubby chin, and was truly sorry he could not undertake the job. But that sort of thing was past and over now--at any rate, on behalf of foreigners. And yet----He looked at the fat man's portrait again, and took an imaginary drum between his knees and tapped music from its head. And then he frowned and shrugged his shoulders, and begged some ship's tobacco, and began ostentatiously to talk about an attack of _laminitis_ in one of his deer's hoofs, which we had been prescribing for.