Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

is | belle ie bao, ——_ i ¢ Ta i let _ ; x my _ - a ae NORTH OF MIDNIGHT 33 “1 don’t mind roughing it.” “You'll rough it, all right,” said Aimo grimly. “ That’s the least of it. The question is whether they’ll take you in at all.” “Good lord, I'll pay. And surely they want the ferry as much as anyone?” “You certainly won’t pay. If you even offer to, you'll be outside. As for the ferry, it'll only bring a lot of pie-faced tourists they don’t want. No, your only chance is to land up there helpless, and hope they’ll take you in out of kindness of heart.” Garrod took another chance: “ It won’t be me who’ll turn up there helpless, it’ll be us. If you want your ferry, you come too! Unless I can arrange transport to move about, ask questions on the nature of the country and so on, I might just as well not go. You'll have to come along as fixer and interpreter.” Anticipating Aimo’s fierce refusal, he went on quickly: “ Look here, if the Lapps don’t use money, I dare say you do. Help me out on this, and you'll get something handsome now. Then, if the ferry ever gets built, you can come in to organize the labour.” After two hours’ talk, the men shook hands on a bargain, made the fire up for the night, and went to sleep in front of it. Garrod, as financier and boss, had the side nearest the warmth. Up there towards the Arctic Ocean, one never sees the sun at this time of the year. ‘The most that happens is a pinkish glow in the south towards mid-day. If the sky’s overcast, there may be no more than a pallid flicker for a week or more. The two men had to wait for a moon before setting out. ‘They travelled on skis. Garrod was no skier, but the country’s never steep, and the snow was good. It was more a matter of endurance than of skill. They simply trudged along a snowy track between mile after mile of miniature forest—miniature because no tree gets sun enough to grow more than a third of its full height before it’s old, and beginning to die off. Every now and then there’d be open stretches, which Garrod thought were fields, but Aimo said would be either bogs or lakes. An occasional fox barked, and twice they heard the howl of wolves. Everything worked exactly as they’d planned. They made the trip before the moon went down, found the Lapps’ hut by the shore of a snow-covered lake, not more than a mile off the main track. Garrod couldn’t follow what Aimo told them, but obvi-— ously they recognized him, and it served. ‘There was no room in the hut, where the family slept together. but the strangers were given the little bath-house twenty yards comicloooks.Ccomn)