Three in Norway, by Two of Them

We stayed some time at the huts, talking and looking at all the memorable objects that were there under our régime (as we had occupied these huts and had the fishing to ourselves two years previously). There was Esau’s celebrated ‘biggest trout whatever was seen,’ carved on the floor; the Skipper’s favourite cast, and the ice safe that we cunningly devised and constructed in the lower hut. The Thomas’s are in even worse case than we, for like us they have seen no deer, and they have so many more mouths to feed. However, they have any quantity of fish, for Rusvasoset is as good a place as the Sjoa at Gjendesheim, which is saying a great deal.

About one we commenced the homeward journey. Two of Jens’ sisters had come with us, nominally to see their brother, but really—John asserted—for the purpose of flirting with him. He was extremely polite to one of them—though of course he could not speak to her—and would insist on carrying her shawl and other impediments; and he confided to us afterwards that ‘women were generally a good deal taken by that sort of mute homage.’ She was a dear little girl, and we called her the ‘Sæter darlen;’ which we believe to be the only Norwegian pun we ever attempted.*

* John said this pun might be elucidated with advantage to the British public, as he did not believe any one could possibly see it. Who cares? Down it goes, and we can assure any one who likes to wrestle with it that it is something very good indeed.

The walk home to Gjendesheim is a long one, and although it was Sunday Esau insisted on making a détour over the marsh with his gun, as he said he had lost his knife there yesterday and wanted to look for it. He arrived late at Gjendesheim with a satisfied air on his face; without his trusty steel, but with his pockets thrust full of too trustful teal, that had adventured themselves within his reach.

At Gjendesheim we found the young Norwegian who had roused up the Thomas’s at Rus Vand, and perceived that he was not without some peculiarities of character. Although the weather was as wet and cold as weather could be, he was attired in a suit of white duck clothes like an English mechanic; even his hat was of white duck, and Esau declared afterwards that his boots were made of the same material; that he had a cigar-case and cigars of it, and ordered white ducks for his dinner. The appearance of his head caused us to be very anxious about any little articles of value that we had about us, for it looked as if it had been shaved all over about two days previously to our making his acquaintance. He looked very strong, tough, and active, and no doubt was so, for he had just performed a most extraordinary walking feat. He is going over all the Jotun Mountains by himself, and yesterday morning he started from a place an unknown number of miles away at 6 A.M. He walked all day and all night, till it got dark, at which time he was somewhere near Glitretind, in a country he had never seen, with only a vague notion of where he wanted to get to and a pocket compass to do it with. The country about there is perfectly awful to walk over even by day; but he kept at it through the dark, following a torrent up till he crossed the watershed, and following another torrent down till he got to Rus Vand, and staggered into the hut there at 2.30 A.M. almost fainting, for he had had nothing to eat all day: true, he might have got fladbrod at the sæters during the day, but he said he did not care for fladbrod: certainly, he had plenty of chocolate in his knapsack, but he was tired of chocolate. At Rus Vand he got some coffee, as Thomas told us; and then he walked over the mountain with Jens to Besse Sæter, intending to sleep there: but we were snoring at our ease in all the beds of Besse Sæter, and he hated sleeping on floors, so he walked on again to Gjendesheim, arriving there at half-past five this morning.

Then he produced his knapsack, which he said weighed twenty-five lbs.: it seemed to be chiefly filled with packets of most delicious chocolate, some of which he gave us.

We thought him a first-rate fellow, but certainly a little peculiar. He has been all over the world, and is great at natural history, having stuffed many birds in foreign countries for the museum at Christiania.

The Skipper had the next room to his, and told us that at bedtime he washed himself all over, cleaned his teeth, and brushed his hair: he then stayed in bed till eleven o’clock next morning, when he rose and went through the whole performance again. Now we did not mind him washing, or brushing his teeth; we even respect him for doing it; but brushing his hair was a simple insult to common sense, and a wicked waste of time; for not a bristle on his head—whether hair, moustache, or beard—was more than an eighth of an inch long, and all of it was much stiffer than any hair-brush yet made. It was suggested that perhaps he was only combing his hair-brush with his head; and with this explanation we had to rest content.

We luxuriated on meat to-night, for they have actually caught and killed a sheep.

We fish with considerable success now at every odd moment of the day, as the canoes are moored to the shore, not six yards from the house; and it takes no time to get into them and push out into the deep lake, or hover about the brink of the long rapids where the lake begins to be a river.

CHAPTER XV.
BACK TO CAMP.

August 9.—

The morning was again very wet, but we are men of great decision and firmness; what our friends call ‘obstinate’ if they are civil, and ‘pig-headed’ when they want to be disagreeable, as friends usually do.

Therefore we started for the camp after lunch: that is to say, the Skipper and Esau started, as John remained to await the arrival of his baggage, for which Ivar had been despatched. At present his wardrobe is not very extensive, and he will perhaps be more comfortably fixed after the arrival of his valise. He has one coat, one flannel shirt without collar, one pair of trousers, socks, and boots, one pipe, one cap; one fishing rod, line, and fly-book; one watch-chain, and a newspaper of July 23.

About two miles from Gjendesheim on the north side of the lake there is an apparently perpendicular cliff, half a mile long and over 1,000 feet high: this is called the Beseggen, and at the top of it lies Bes Vand, so close to the edge of the cliff that it seems impossible to believe that the lake is 1,000 feet above Gjendin, with nothing but a narrow strip of rock to hold it within its bounds, and yet the books say it is so, and we always believe anything we find in a book. The cliff looks perfectly unscaleable, but we believe it has been descended twice by an Englishman who used to live here, and once by a Norwegian youth.

Bes Vand is so high that fish will not live in it; the professional liars of these parts say it freezes solid every winter, and kills any that have been put into it. It is a little difficult to believe this statement, as it is a large and deep lake; but John says that a man who will believe a guide-book can believe anything; so we all do our best to swallow it (the statement, not the lake; we have hardly enough whisky to make the latter palatable).

Gjendin is liable like all mountain lakes to be suddenly visited by squalls, so that we generally like to paddle pretty near the side, but on this voyage it was not safe to do so; for under the influence of the rain, which was coming down as if it had never done so before, stones and boulders were rattling and crashing down the sides of the lake, and plunging into it, in a most alarming manner; and as far as we could see, the steep black rocks were thickly streaked with white lines, denoting torrents rushing down in places where ordinarily none were to be seen.

Just as we were passing the Beseggen, a dull boom like that of a distant cannon was heard, and looking up we could see far above our heads a huge spout of muddy water shoot out from the cliff, carrying with it masses of stone and débris of all sorts; evidently some bank had given way under the increased pressure of this enormous rainfall. We thought for one brief moment that it might be Bes Vand let loose on us, for even in fine weather it can always be seen leaking through fissures in the rock, so narrow is the division between the two lakes; but we did not stop to ascertain where it came from.

It soon became necessary to land and empty the canoes, by reason of the heavy rain, the bottom boards being completely under water, though we had only been afloat for half an hour.

Just before we got to Memurudalen the sun came out; Esau had a chase after a black-throated diver that came up from a dive quite close to his canoe, and then we both fell to fishing and got several good fish. This is just our luck: we had left camp for the last few days on purpose to get fish for food; we had caught many and salted them, and brought back 40 lbs. weight with us in a large tin can, and then, behold! we caught fresh fish in a place where we were assured by Öla that there were none, not even salted ones.

We found the camp looking uncommonly pretty and comfortable, and all our things perfectly dry and nice. The sun shone, and blue sky appeared, so that hope, contentment, and joy reigned supreme, for we knew that it could not rain any more now for at least a month, from the way it stopped quite with a jerk as the supply ceased.

John spent his day at Gjendesheim in eating, drinking, and fishing, especially the two former amusements. Truly that is a glorious country where a man can over-eat himself three times a day, and never have indigestion!!

August 10.—

Esau stalked with the usual result, ‘Ingen dyr, ingen fresk spör, ingen gammle spör,’ as the Norsk jäger would remark; which means ‘no deer, no fresh tracks, no old tracks;’ and he returned to camp to find the Skipper had erected a flagstaff on the little mound beside our tent, and from this staff now floats proudly ‘the flag that braved a thousand years &c.,’ which we brought with us for this purpose: a smaller one always adorns the ridge of the tent. We do not know exactly the use of this flag; we say it is hoisted to annoy the Norwegians, but this reason will not bear criticism, for that is the last thing we should think of doing, and it certainly never seems to have that effect on any one who has yet seen it. But we think that no gentleman’s residence is complete without a red ensign, therefore on high days and holidays that rag will flaunt itself in the breeze; and every day will now be a holiday, for the fine weather has begun at last.

The Skipper had made all sorts of improvements in our domestic arrangements, and after tea we completed the alterations in the bedroom which were necessary before John arrived. This he did in a boat with Ivar about nine o’clock, pretty well tired with his row against a head wind. He was received with much kindness by the barbarous islanders, but it took us until late at night to get everything comfortably and conveniently placed under canvas; for John made no slight addition to our already ponderous stores, in the shape of two more boxes containing tea, coffee, candles, sugar, jam, and at last Esau’s long-desired anchovy paste.

We placed the three beds side by side in the inner tent, John being in the middle for the sake of greater warmth, for the nights are very cold. Among the things that we obtained through Jens were two sheepskin rugs, invaluable for protection against cold. Till we got them we were more or less wretched every night, but since they came our sleep has been perfectly luxurious. John has only two ordinary Scotch rugs, and feels the cold a good deal, so we, from our impervious sheepskins, give him any coats, shirts, or trousers that we do not want.

CHAPTER XVI.
TROUT.

August 11.—

Last night at sunset we ‘could not see a cloud, because no cloud was in the sky;’ the distant mountains looked as black as coal, and the heavens were yellow-ochre colour; whereupon Öla committed himself to the statement that the fine weather would now be a permanent institution. Consequently our life has once more resumed its proper phase of perpetual picnic, and we roam about without coats or waistcoats, or any other garments that seem superfluous unto us; and to John all garments except a landing-net and boots appear to be unnecessary incumbrances. Reversing the natural order of things, we put on all our available clothes when we go to bed, and peel for the day when we get up.

 

It is difficult to believe that only two days ago we were shivering with cold, wrapped in gloom and india-rubber clothing, and wet through all day, when now the horizon is dancing with heat, the lake is perfectly calm, with the high snow mountains mirrored in its blue depths, and we are delighting in every little bit of shade, having pawned our macintoshes and thrown the tickets into the glacier torrent.

That same stream has been a source of great annoyance to John during the night. He wants to have it turned off, because its roaring kept him awake, and he was going first thing after breakfast to see the turncock about it; but, of course, it is hopeless. The municipal arrangements here are much the same as in London, and that official cannot be found when wanted; so he will have to content himself with damming it.

The hot sun has brought out flies in great profusion; the fish are rising freely, and man goeth forth to his labour rejoicing, and cometh home with a heavy bag and a light fly-book, for the fish here seem to be all good-sized; and as we have to use the finest tackle and smallest flies, the odds are rather in favour of the finny prey.

 

We all went fishing, and made a very pretty catch among us, the Skipper securing the greatest weight, and Esau the largest fish, weight 3½ lbs. The Skipper also made some interesting notes on the moral and physical characteristics of these Gjendin trout. He said there seemed to be three methods of feeding in vogue among them. Some were moving in a large circle about two hundred yards in diameter, and rising at very short intervals as they went—these never came within ten yards of the shore. Then there were some that were travelling along about a yard from the shore, and these seemed to be rising even more frequently than the others, as there were more flies close to the rocks than out in mid-ocean; and there were a few cunning old beggars that had got a comfortable hole under a rock which they did not like to leave, and only rose at longer intervals, as especially tasty morsels floated by.

All the fish, to whichever class of risers they might belong, often took the moving artificial fly in preference to real dead ones that were lying on the surface of the water close by: from which we opine that they resemble us to the extent of liking fresh food better than stale; for our flies had no attractive tinsel to commend them to the notice of an epicurean trout, being the best imitations we can manage of the predominant fly, which is a small dark-coloured winged ant, with a little reddish orange about the long black body.

These flies have but a brief and disastrous existence. They only flew for the first time this morning, most of them had died by noon—for the lake was strewn with their corpses—and the survivors were all worried and consumed by fish before nightfall. Luckily there are plenty more where they came from, and the process can be repeated on new flies tomorrow.

It is very interesting to catch a fish off these rocks on a perfectly calm day like this; for in the clear water you can see the whole of the struggle, from the moment the fish rises till he is lying panting and exhausted in the net. How beautiful a big fish looks when he first comes ashore! How brightly he shines in the sunlight, and how sleek is his portly person!

Even if you cannot see your fish rise and take the fly, you can soon tell by his behaviour whereabouts the needle will come if you succeed in getting him on to the weighing hook. A large fish very seldom rises with any dash or swagger, but just a smothered ripple; perhaps a glimpse of his nose as he sucks in the fly; and he moves as if he were a nobody: then when he feels the hook, there is none of that dash and wriggle that you find in a small fish, but generally a rush like a rocket towards the middle of the lake, making you tremble for the safety of your reel line, and after that a stately diving and calm, dignified resistance for five or ten minutes till he has to give in. Sometimes, though not so often, the rocket business will be repeated more than once, and a fish that does this deserves to escape, and often gets his deserts. There is something very fine about the proud bearing of a big trout in difficulties; for here in the lake he has not the same chance as his relations in the running water at Gjendesheim.

The largest fish seemed to be those feeding in a circle, and it was one of these that Esau caught, which he said was the father of all fish. He lost another much larger—no doubt the grandfather of all fish. He said it weighed five pounds. It is an extraordinary piscatorial fact that the largest fish always do get away.

In the afternoon Esau commenced excavating the long-promised oven from the face of the little hill against which our tent is pitched. It stands about a hundred yards from our hall door, and is constructed chiefly of large stones and mud—clay not being obtainable—with a flue cut in the hill-side: a single stone acts as the floor of the oven, under which the wood furnace is kindled, and a sod of turf, from time to time renewed, does duty as a door.

Dinner at seven.

John wishes that the menu should be occasionally inserted for the benefit of gastronomic readers:—

Vins. Tea. Beer.	Potage. Prairie.	Legumes. Potatoes, Fried and Boiled.
	Poisson. Fried Trout.
	Entrées. Sardines.
Gibier. Teal.   Greenshank.
Entremets. Compôte of Rice and Wimberries. Jam.   Marmalade. Whisky.

After this Esau finished the oven, and accomplished a bake of bread therein, which proved so successful that on returning from fishing at about ten at night, we all turned our attention to the production of the staff of life, nor desisted from our labours till eleven o’clock, by which time there was a goodly show of rolls and loaves spread out, and we went to bed feeling that we had spent a glorious day.

CHAPTER XVII.
REINDEER.

August 12.—

We wonder whether our friends in Scotland and Yorkshire have such a day as this: if they have, it is rough on the grouse.

There is not a breath the bottle-green wave to curl, and the sun shines as if Odin had redeemed his other eye.

The Skipper and Öla went forth to pursue, and walked over an enormous distance into the previously unknown region of Memurutungen. Up on the mountains life on a day of this kind is bliss; there is more air there than in the valley, and it is delightful to be far away from the busy world—consisting of your two pals and Ivar—below; surrounded by the snowy peaks and sky, with not a living thing save perhaps an eagle in sight.

 

In the middle of the day they came on fresh deer tracks, at which of course their flagging interest revived; and presently they descried on a snow fjeld about a mile away, two deer ‘scooting’ over the opposite mountain side. These they followed, and made a long détour to get the right side of the breath of wind that occasionally made itself felt up there, for the reindeer has probably the most acute scent of all the deer tribe. In the midst of this détour they suddenly came in sight of two other bucks, about 300 yards away, much finer animals than the first two; in fact, they had the best heads the Skipper ever saw. But luck was against him; they were wrong for the wind, and a puff came just at the moment, which carried the unwelcome intelligence to those deer that their hated enemy was upon them, and they departed round a corner at a rapid trot, and were no more seen. Then Öla looked at the Skipper with a sorrowful shake of the head, and said, ‘Meget store bocks!’ (very big bucks), and the Skipper replied with a still more portentous shake, ‘Meget, meget.’ So they were left with their mouths wide open, muttering, ‘Meget, meget store bocks.’ And after following the tracks some time without seeing anything more of the deer, they gave up the chase and returned to camp, getting home in a very exhausted state about 6.30.

During dinner old Peter Tronhūus arrived in camp with a packet of letters and papers, and a fore-quarter of venison from Rus Vand. Mr. Thomas had been like ourselves reindeer-less until yesterday, when he found a large herd, and was lucky enough to get two out of them.

Peter also told us that two friends of Thomas’s who had been staying with him were walking over the mountain to see our camp, and would then go to Gjendesheim with him in the boat in which he had come.

Presently these two men arrived extremely hot, and looking as if they would like beer; so we appeased them with one of our few remaining bottles, and after showing them all the sights of the camp took them out on the lake in the canoes. One of them spoke a little English, the other only French and Norwegian. The latter asked the Skipper, in the Gallic tongue, ‘if we had entrapped many fish?’ and ‘if we had not fear to venture on the lake in such small boats?’ and informed him that ‘there were many savage ducks about this year.’ The other one, regardless of his own life and safety, and also of Esau’s—in whose canoe he was sitting—would keep throwing up his arms and exclaiming, ‘It gives us moch playsure to make a travel in the Canadian căno.’ But we think they were proud and thankful when the experiment was over, and they were safe in Peter’s boat. These strangers displayed unwonted courage, for the ordinary native has a wholesome dread of our frail craft. The hardy Norseman’s house of yore was doubtless on the foaming wave, but that was before the days of Canadian canoes.

At dinner John informed the company that his bath in the lake yesterday was the third of a series the first of which took place in Montenegro, the second in Algiers, and now this in Norway. He calls this a humble tribute to the geniality of the English summer, and thinks that he may be termed ‘a polyglot ablutionist.’ Some of the sojourners in this camp say it may be so, but it does not speak highly for John’s love of water when undiluted with whisky.

Subsequently we found that the bath which he swaggered about only occurred because he fell off a rock into the lake, and so dabbled about afterwards while his clothes were drying, which does not take long in this weather. This also accounts for the condition in which he returned to camp, ‘sans bags, sans shirt, sans everything,’—barring his boots.

Late at night Esau, who was up last, put his head into the tent to remark that there was a first-rate comet on view, but he was received with such execrations from the other two lazy people in bed that he thought it prudent to say no more about it, and not to look at it any more himself.

August 13.—

We spent the morning making a meat safe. This meat safe consists of a hole in the ground, neatly flagged with flat stones, and walled with the same, and furnished at the top with a wooden frame, into which fits a lid with hooks underneath it for birds. The whole is covered with a piece of muslin to keep off the villanous bluebottles. The muslin was brought to make into mosquito nets inside the tent, but in this happy spot the ‘skeeter’ is unknown, the sand-fly very rare, and the great green-eyed Möge—which bites a lump out of your leg and then flies to the nearest tree to eat it—is conspicuous by its absence.

We have always been very careful not to prepare in any way for game before it is killed, but this usually successful plan has been a failure this year, so now we are desperate, and have made a safe which will hold a reindeer, and probably with a little more bad luck shall even go out stalking with ropes in our pockets ready to tie up the animal when killed. We caught Öla a week ago carving a piece of stick into the double-ended thing that butchers put between the legs of sheep to keep them apart (name unknown), but we promptly seized it, and made it into the handle of a frying-pan. But who can escape his destiny? We hoped that we had averted misfortune, but the deed was done, and no doubt it was owing to this that the Skipper failed to get a shot at the ‘store bocks.’

When John and Esau had finished the safe and succeeded in catching enough nice fish for the requirements of the camp, they were seized with the desire of making a good bath. We have no first-rate bathing-place near the camp, as the glacier-river has made the lake too shallow round its mouth, and it is some distance to where the shore becomes bold and rocky.

They selected a nice little stream on the hill just above the tent, and toiled like navvies there for about four hours under a blazing sun, excavating and paving with flat stones, making a most palatial bath in the bed of the stream; when behold! just as it was completed, to use the graphic language of one of the constructors, ‘May I be dodderned, and doggoned, and dingblamed by Pike, if the blooming stream didn’t cease to run!’ It did just supply about a pint of water before it quite stopped, into which Esau’s watch flew as he flung on his coat with some slight, and perhaps excusable, show of temper. A pint of water is not enough for a man to bathe in, but it is quite sufficient to saturate a watch, especially if a stone obligingly smashes the glass and makes a hole in its face obliterating the vii. viii. and ix. at the time of its immersion. However, he dug the mud out of the works, filled them with Rangoon oil, and is under the impression that that watch can be made to go again, and that a new face and glass and silver case will make it look all right. He is of a sanguine disposition.

They returned to camp saying that it would be all right as soon as the first rain came, but they reckoned without their host; the stream came from a little snowdrift on the mountain, and next time that Esau went up there he found that the heat of the last few days had melted it all away; hence its sudden stop. It never ran again. Perchance some future traveller will find the bath ages hence, and rejoice in its luxurious arrangements. In anticipation of this John wrote the following beautiful lines on the most prominent rock:—

The Skipper returned rather late with some very good fish from our old lake Rus Vand, and dinner was consequently at the extremely fashionable hour of 8.30.

Potage is frequently eaten last, for it keeps hot longer than the other dishes, and as we always feed in the open air in fine weather, they cool more quickly than in civilisation.

 

About nine o’clock a splendid display of northern lights was produced for our benefit, and we stayed up till twelve o’clock baking bread and gazing at the ever-changing beauties of this glorious sight. In the course of conversation it transpired that the same thing happened last night in a milder form, and it was this that Esau had announced as a comet. To-night he was immensely delighted with the show, because he says it will bring good luck; quoting ‘Aurora bright, dear harbinger of dawn.’ He said this was Shakespeare, and if Shakespeare called Aurora a ‘deer harbinger,’ that ought to be enough for us. The other two agreed, but did not believe Shakespeare ever wrote that, or anything like it. ‘What play was it in?’ ‘Play!’ said Esau, with the utmost contempt, ‘you awful duffers, it’s in the sonnets; I dare say you never read all of them.’ This was unanswerable, for of course no one ever did read all the sonnets. But in revenge John composed some poetry about Esau, after the manner of Walt Whitman, he said.

If Walt Whitman ever wrote anything like this, he ought to be made to read it. We give a few lines:—

And so on for pages.

On examining the diaries which we all keep, the following remarks on the aurora were found:—

No. 1.—By the Skipper.

‘The heavens were illuminated by most brilliant northern lights, which flickered in a great arch over the starry sky.’

No. 2.—By Esau.

‘A most glorious display of northern lights, huge bands of light across the sky; waving, flickering, and disappearing, then suddenly shining out again more brilliantly than before, while all the time straight streamers of light were shooting upwards from the horizon.’

No. 3.—By John.

‘The glow of a remarkably fine aurora borealis, whose silvery shimmering shafts flickered incessantly all over the heavens in the most fantastic shapes.’

It will be observed that we all agree in the flickering, consequently you may bet it did flicker. But for this fortunate fact it would be hard to recognise the three descriptions as identical, and yet this is the way history is written.

CHAPTER XVIII.
SUCCESS AT LAST.

August 14.—

This was a most eventful day in our quiet life, and one fraught with episode. For the first time there was a breeze, so the Skipper went out fishing, and John to practise canoeing in a wind, which is an art requiring considerable dexterity in these Canadian canoes. They are beautiful sea boats, and beat the ‘Rob Roy’ hollow for any purposes where room for baggage is required. In our two, which are only small, we have transported between 800 and 900 lbs.; but their worst feature is decidedly exhibited in a wind, for the broad flat bottom and absence of keel cause them to drift very fast, and make it difficult to keep them straight. It can only be done by paddling from amidships instead of from the stern.

Esau went out stalking, full of hope from the aurora and the favourable wind.

The Skipper was lucky and caught some very good fish, and then returning to camp constructed a most lovely wimberry tart. He had just finished the enclosure of the same in the oven, and was proceeding to remove the flour and ashes and other debris from his hands, while John reclined at his ease under an awning with our latest ‘Field’—three weeks old—when they heard a hail overhead, and behold a swarm of visitors from Rus Vand! Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, Miss A——, and their friend F——, who is the most celebrated deerstalker in the country. He is reported to never miss a shot, and occasionally shoots flying ryper with a rifle.

They tumultuously demanded lunch, and the Skipper with John had a pretty busy time of it for about twenty minutes, and the wimberry tart had to be left to its fate in the sultry climate of the oven. Our larder just now is not well supplied with anything except fish; so that the utmost exertions could only produce a meal which to people who have had reindeer for several days must have seemed poor indeed. Fried trout, Skoggaggany soup, tea, beer, bread, biscuits, and marmalade, was the bill of fare, for there was no time to do anything in the ‘gibier’ line, birds taking some time to pluck and clean. However, to our guests there were some points of this meal decidedly worthy of attention, viz. the beer, marmalade, and bread: they have none of these at Rus Vand, as their attempts at bread have hitherto been failures, while ours has been very first-rate ever since the oven was built, and was much appreciated.

We have been informed that the proper thing in these days, when writing a book, is to recommend some condiment or patent medicine to the notice of the confiding public. As there is no chance of our meeting any Arab sheiks in Memurudalen, we have to fall back on this episode of the bread, and seize the opportunity to sing to the world the praises of ‘Yeatman’s Yeast Powder,’ by far the best that we have tried, and invaluable on an expedition of this kind for bread, pastry, and pancakes. Now let old Yeatman send his hundred guineas, care of Esau, and we will see that they are devoted to a proper use.

To return to our guests. We made an awning on what we call the lawn—size six feet by fourteen feet—out of two rugs and some birch poles, and lunched under that, as the sun was cruelly hot. There was a good deal of the ordinary picnic about the meal, as we have only four plates, cups, knives, &c., and had to eat fish out of the frying-pan, and drink beer out of a jam pot, and a condensed-milk tin with the top cut off and the sharp edge turned down. But all these drawbacks were met in the true picnic spirit, which ‘de minimis non curat’ so long as there is something to eat. Our two last bottles of beer were sacrificed, and it went to our hearts to have to pour away our beloved Skoggaggany soup when the cups were wanted for tea, for our visitors did not ‘go for’ the soup with the same alacrity that distinguishes us. Possibly it occurred to them that the middle of a blazing hot August day was not the most suitable time for highly seasoned, substantial, nearly boiling liquid to be poured down their throats.

Mr. and Mrs. Thomas and Miss A—— all spoke English well, but their friend young F—— could neither speak it nor understand it: however, he wished to be genial and polite, and replied ‘Oh yase, tank you,’ whenever any remark was made to him. In consequence of this amiable trait, John, who thought he could talk our language as well as the others, supplied him with beer, whisky and water, tea, soup, and marmalade all at the same time, to each of which articles when offered he had replied ‘Oh yase, tank you.’ This made a sad run on our limited supply of crockery.

Lunch ended, the Skipper volunteered as usual to take the party one by one for a cruise in his canoe. This with the ordinary English lady would be a matter of considerable risk, but all Norwegians—ladies as well as men—are accustomed to boats, and very nearly all of them can swim. But the trip was quite dangerous enough, for both the ladies insisted on kneeling in the right position and paddling themselves, and there was a good sea on, with a distant threatening storm. While Mrs. Thomas was pursuing her adventurous career, her husband danced on the bank after the manner of a hen with ducklings crying, ‘Come back! come back! you go too far out!’ but we grieve to record that she did not care a little bit, and was so delighted with the canoe that the Skipper had some difficulty in persuading her to return. May she live long to paddle that canoe, for it now belongs to her.

About four o’clock the call came to an end, and our friends departed over the mountain to Rus Vand, at the west end of which they expected to meet their boat. Before going they made us promise to go and see them next Tuesday, and will send a boat to convey us down the lake.

 

Soon after six Esau came into camp in an offensively jaunty manner, followed by Öla with the heads and skins, and what the lawyers call the appurts, to wit, the heart, kidneys, feet, and liver of two reindeer bucks. Then was there great rejoicing in that little colony, and dinner was served and disposed of with light hearts, even the neglected wimberry tart being a complete success, for owing to its gigantic size, its long baking in a cooling oven had not been too much for it, and it was finished to the last crumb of paste and spoonful of juice.

Our custom is, when a man returns with deer, that he shall lie on the sheepskin of indolence if so disposed, while the other fellows prepare dinner; and after the meal is finished and men are beginning to lean back and fill their pipes, he is expected to relate his adventures without interruption; after this he is never to refer to them again unless specially requested. Now for Esau’s story.

‘We went on to Memurutungen and began to find fresh tracks and signs of deer almost directly, so were on the tiptoe of expectation all the morning. About midday Öla found two deer on a small patch of snow, five or six miles from camp, in a very favourable place for approaching them, with the wind as right as it could be. We made a lovely stalk; but when after an hour’s creeping we got to the spot, we were just in time to see them disappear, slowly feeding over the hill. We followed as fast as possible, and soon came in sight of them again, for as the deer always feed against the wind there is no danger of alarming them by following on their tracks. A few minutes of breathless crawling like serpents, and we were within 100 yards, nearer than I ever got to reindeer before. One of them soon gave me a nice side shot, and when I fired he almost fell, but recovered himself, and they both ran down the hill towards a little glacier. I fired again at him and missed; and then ran as hard as I could towards the glacier, cramming in cartridges as I ran. They were both out of sight for a moment behind some rocks, and then the unwounded one came into view again, and I had a nice shot at him at about 150 yards, and was lucky enough to send a bullet just above his heart, which killed him instantly at the edge of the glacier.

 

‘I ran straight on, and following round the shoulder of the hill, saw the other one standing about 100 yards away, unable to go any further. I was in about the same state myself, so sat down, took as careful an aim as I could, and fired a shot which finished him. How he had ever got so far is a mystery, as the first shot only missed his heart by about an inch. The second went in touching the hole made by the first, and killed him at once.

‘We gralloched them, and built the meat up with stones to preserve it from ravens, and the great bugbear of hunters, the “jarraf,” as they call it; filfras is its English name. I think it is identical with the North American wolverine or glutton.’

The lecturer concluded his observations amid great applause.

Let it be understood that the running which is done in pursuit of deer is a gymnastic performance of the utmost difficulty, for these mountains are almost entirely composed of loose stones with sharp, clean edges. These stones vary in size, but otherwise are all similar, and have no more tendency to stick together and lie quiet than the lumps in a basin of sugar. So that running over them means—for an extremely active man—a pace of perhaps four miles an hour; for a deer about six or seven. Consequently the deer always when disturbed try to get on to snow, for there they can go a great, but unascertained pace—apparently somewhere about eighty miles an hour.

We find that after all we were quite right to make the meat-safe before killing the deer, for we only made it to hold one, and now we have killed two, and so are quite properly behindhand with our arrangements, and shall be obliged to make another.

After dinner Esau went down to the lake and tried a few casts from the shore. He speedily hooked a fish, which he thought the biggest ever made, and never got a sight of it for twenty minutes. He thought this a grand top up for a truly successful day, but on landing it, it only weighed a pound, but was hooked in the tail, hence the struggle.

CHAPTER XIX.
GJENDEBODEN.

Sunday, August 15.—

Still the same beautiful weather. We spent the morning fishing and bathing. Esau distinguished himself by falling into the lake off a cliff, just as he had finished dressing after a bath; nearly swamping his canoe, full of fish, rugs, and other valuables. There was such a sun that he merely hung his things on the rocks and went on fishing without them until they were dry, which took a very short time. He always had savage tendencies, and would like to live without clothes, but we consider this is not dignified, and will not tend to promote discipline among our retainers. The Skipper got the best bag, as he generally does on a calm day.

After lunch we packed our rods, fowling-pieces, and change of raiment into the canoes, and started on a voyage of discovery up the lake, intending to spend the night at Gjendebod—a hut at the western end somewhat similar to Gjendesheim at the eastern, though not so large or so well built, for the upper end of the lake does not get as many visitors as the lower.

The expedition commenced with a disaster, owing, no doubt, to its being Sunday. As John and Esau in the larger canoe were crossing the glacier stream, something caused the boat to almost swamp, but fortunately right again with a good deal of water in it. Esau said it was John’s clumsiness; John said it was Esau’s recklessness in crossing at such a rapid place, and much recrimination ensued. They went to shore and emptied the water out, and then continued the voyage, nothing being wet except the rugs used to kneel on. Only the Skipper lingered on the voyage to fish; the other two paddling against a heavy head wind completed the journey of five miles in about an hour, and had dinner cooked and ready by the time the Skipper made his appearance with a beautiful basket of trout.

Our dinner was made from the shoulder of venison sent us by Mr. Thomas. It was utterly ruined in the cooking, for we are getting fastidious after our own luxurious meals, and think as poorly of Gjendebod cookery as a certain friend of ours did of English, when he complained that ‘in all the houses of the rich and great which he had ever known, he had never seen a decent hot dinner served except when they had it cold for lunch.’

We found here a young Norwegian who spoke English well, and gave us some very interesting information, chiefly about the winter life in Norway; also a very intelligible account of the land system of the country, which we intend to send to Mr. Gladstone for use in his next Irish Land Bill. We think it peculiarly adapted for Ireland, because, though we all understood it perfectly at the time, we cannot agree about any of its main features on comparing notes afterwards.

Presently there arrived here Coutts—our Gjendesheim acquaintance who had made the extraordinary walk over the mountains. His hair had either not grown since we last saw him, or else he had sand-papered it off again. He had just achieved another remarkable feat. This was a climb to the top of ‘Stor Skagastolstind,’ a mountain which has only been ascended twice previously; first by an Englishman who spends most of his time in doing such things, and afterwards by a Norwegian, the last time being two years ago. Many others have tried and failed. The ordinary traveller will find the feat of pronouncing its name fluently in the course of conversation quite difficult enough; but it can be done by the exercise of an iron will, and if not attempted more than once in a day, no fatal effects need be apprehended. Once we met a very careworn-looking man who told us he had been trying to make a pun on the name, but we felt no pity for so foolhardy a wretch.

The authorized procedure for those who accomplish the ascent, is to enclose their name and some coins in a bottle, and build a little cairn round the bottle, leaving their handkerchief with it, and bringing down the corresponding articles left by the last man. Coutts showed us the handkerchief and bottle which he found on the top, but the coins he must have spent in drinks on his way home, or else did not like to trust us with them, as he could not produce them. He had, of course, left his own handkerchief, and John, who is short of these useful though not indispensable articles, was seized with a great longing to risk his life and go to the summit of that mountain for Coutts’s. At least, he was very keen about it immediately after the description of the ascent and hiding of the treasure; but since he became calmer we almost persuaded him not to go, as he hates walking, especially uphill walking; it takes two days to ascend the peak, one to get down again; and the whole performance is slightly more difficult and hazardous than the ascent of the Matterhorn.

It will probably be unnecessary to remark that Coutts did not for a moment condescend to follow the path chosen by former climbers, but having after considerable search found one at least twice as dangerous, he chose that, as he had not time to look for a worse one.

August 16.—

After breakfast we found a drover, who was living in a hut here, and impressed him to come out with us after Ryper—his function being that of the dog. There are many of these drovers in the mountains during the summer. They get cattle—how, we do not know; whether they buy them, or merely drive them on commission for the owners; then they feed them on the common lands, and drive them to some town at the end of the summer. The huts that they live in are wretched little places. There is one about two miles from our camp, built of rough stones against a rock which forms two of the sides, without any door or window, and only a hole to creep in at. No Englishman would keep his dog in such a place, unless it were dead; but we are told that a drover lived there for a month this year before we came, and it is considered of sufficient importance to be marked on the Ordnance map, otherwise we should never have seen it.

Our drover, however, was rather a great man, living in a hut with a real door and a window, and a live woman inside to cook for him and iron his shirt—at least, we imagined she must be doing this, as he had not got one on.

Ryper shooting began by law yesterday, but our Sabbatarian proclivities prevented us from going forth to the chase. The true reason is that we superstitiously believe it will rain again if we shoot on Sunday, though no one will confess that this is the feeling by which we are possessed.

We crossed the lake in the canoes—the Skipper and Esau to shoot, John and Herr Drover to beat. There was a narrow belt of birch trees between the lake and the willow belt in which we hoped to find the birds, and before we got through this, our ears were gladdened by the sound of two shots from Esau, who had walked on to two old birds and got them both; but, alas! disappointment was in store for us. We walked up hill and down dale, dry ground and marshy, willow belt and birch belt, but never saw another ryper for five hours, and then we put up one old cock who fled away with a derisive crow before we got within sixty yards of him. It is hopeless work hunting ryper without dogs. We found plenty of places where they had fed or sat, or been running on wet ground; but they hate flying unless they are compelled, and on a day of this sort lie like stones, though we have seen them after windy weather get up almost as wild as Yorkshire grouse. But we feel that we have done our duty in trying to shoot ryper, and so now can go back to our fishing and stalking with a quiet conscience.

And if we got no more ryper we found such a quantity of ‘möltebær,’ that there is every prospect of Esau being seriously ill for some days, which would be a distinct gain as far as the consumption of our stores goes. The ‘möltebær’ is a berry like a large yellow raspberry, very good indeed to eat, with a sort of honey flavour about it. The Norwegians think it better than the strawberry, though we hardly indorse this opinion. It is a beautiful scarlet before it is ripe, and a dirty pale yellow when ready to gather. It grows low down, and is difficult to find, as it conceals itself in low, swampy, and rather dark places.

When we returned from the pursuit of the disobliging ryper, there was a fair breeze down the lake, so we hoisted sails and were soon back at Memurudalen.

CHAPTER XX.
A FORMAL CALL.

August 17.—

This was the day appointed for our visit to the Thomas’s at Rus Vand, but though we told Öla as usual to call us at 7.30, he never came until about half-past eight. His watch is a curiosity among bad watches; he sets it by one of ours every night, and it has always gained or lost several hours before morning: on one occasion it actually lost nearly a fortnight while we slept. The Skipper says it ‘ain’t worth a smothered oath;’ and this morning, as we specially wished to get up early—and did get up, owing to Öla’s watch, more than usually late—he is getting lower in his valuation, and estimates it at a ‘whispered d——.’

We have begged Öla to pawn it, or refrain from winding it up, but without effect, and Esau lent him his—which has never moved since its bath, and is fixed at 5.20. This was very successful for two days, as it made Öla call us about six o’clock, and we had lots of time to go to sleep again afterwards; but after that the discontented fellow came and asked for one that would go faster, and of course we have nothing that will compare with his own either at trotting or cantering.

First thing this morning the Skipper was seen shaving his meagre chin with no little care, and reflecting himself with considerable interest in a slip of looking-glass that he keeps under his pillow. We all made elaborate toilets, but the Skipper was especially beautiful by reason of his necktie, and the least thread-bare of his two coats, which he wore with what he considered a careless grace.

We started up the mountain at half-past ten, and arrived on the shores of Rus Vand very hot and tired in about two hours. There we saw a dim speck on the distant horizon which we imagined to be the boat coming to take us down the lake. So we began to fish till it should arrive; and it was a considerable time before we realised the fact that the speck we had seen was indeed the boat, but it was going, not coming, for the soulless wretch who had control of it had presumed to think, and his thoughts being of course the mere unreasoning impulses of a brutish and degraded mind, had caused him to suppose we were not coming. This was a terrible blow, but at last we bravely decided to walk on to the hut—about eight miles. During the next six pages of this book we walked and walked and walked, with hunger and thirst raging inside us, a broiling sun over our heads, and the most frightful language proceeding from our lips; tramping along cattle tracks, wading through mountain torrents, and stumbling over willows and rocks, till about half-past three in the afternoon, when turning the last corner we came on the two huts, and our olfactory nerves were greeted by the welcome scent of adjacent cooking food.

Thomas was most profuse in his maledictions of the idiot who had left the west end of the lake without waiting for us, and we had great difficulty in persuading him not to shed his blood there and then. Thus far the misery.

But now a change came o’er the scene. Behold the wearied travellers lying on the sward, in the cool shadow cast by the hut; surrounded by iced whisky punch, brandy and water, rum and milk, and claret, and drinking them all at once under the entreaties of our hospitable entertainers. Anon a sumptuous feast was spread under the canopy of a tent pitched just above the roaring waters of the Russen River where it leaves the calm of the lake for the turmoil and trouble of a hurried descent to busier regions. That trout, reindeer, roast ryper, and the various smaller birds will be remembered by all of us as long as we live.

The Skipper confessed afterwards that all along that burning shadeless cattle track—with its atmosphere perfectly blue with execrations—he had thought that life was but a ‘wale of tears’ at the best of times; but when after dinner cigars and black coffee were produced, he began to believe we had had rather a pleasant walk after all.

We left the hospitable hut about six, in the boat, Thomas himself and Jens coming with us. Jens rowed, and we four fished all the way up the lake, so that the water was stiff with minnows and flies. John with a minnow caught one three-pound trout and some smaller ones, and the Skipper and Esau several good fish with the fly, but we had no time to really try to catch fish, but kept rowing steadily on and getting what we could on the way. Thomas got out halfway up the lake to fish from the bank, and John at once trampled on a spare rod which had been brought in the boat, and reduced it to matchwood. Then to witness John’s polite protestations and apologies from the boat to Mr. Thomas on shore was truly gratifying to us as spectators. When they were concluded we rowed on to the end of the lake, climbed over the dreadful mountain—which was by no means a pleasant task in the dark—and reached camp at half-past ten—just twelve hours employed in making a formal call. Think of that, ye gentlemen of England who grumble at having to leave a card on the people the other side of the square.

August 18.—

We all stayed at home to-day, as the weather—although still perfectly fine—was not favourable for any sort of sport with which we are acquainted except kite-flying; and the tent was constantly in such imminent danger of being blown from its moorings, that we feared if we went away, we should not be able to find it when we came back. It was great fun during breakfast to watch Ivar sailing after our goods and chattels whenever a sudden gust of wind sent them scudding over the ground till brought to a standstill by a juniper or a rock. Before starting in pursuit he always opened his mouth to its utmost width—which is enormous—and then extending his arms and legs till he looked like a demoniac wind-mill, he swooped down on the quarry, never failing to secure the fly-away article, dish-cloth, or towel, or whatever it might be.

The Skipper was the only one who attempted fishing, and he had but poor sport, and soon returned to camp to assist in the operations there going on. The most important of these was the construction of a new game cellar in the ground near the old one. Esau was ‘bossing’ this thing, while Öla worked. Esau, being very lazy himself, takes a fiendish delight in getting any work out of Öla; and now his portion of the job seemed to be standing with an axe in his hand revolving things in his great mind while Öla undertook the labour. The Skipper and John devoted themselves to baking, and produced an enormous quantity of bread and biscuits; and when these were finished the united strength of the company engaged itself on a meat pie.

The division of labour in this enterprise is always managed thus. Esau is butcher—an employment in which he revels, and at which he is decidedly an adept. He cuts up reindeer in convenient slices for placing in the pie-dish; adding thereto slices of bacon, and two or three hard-boiled eggs, with some liver, heart, and birds if we have any to spare. Meanwhile the Skipper concocts the dough for the crust from flour, butter, and boiling water; and after rolling the same on the top of one of the boxes with an empty beer-bottle, neatly lines the smaller of the two low tins with it; fills it with the various ingredients and plenty of pepper, salt, and some water, and then covers it with a thin disc of paste perforated with holes, and adorned with fantastic images of reindeer and birds. Now the pie is ready for the oven—which all this time John has been stoking indefatigably with arm loads of wood; and when he announces that the oven is fit the pie is borne in solemn procession to it, and safely enclosed by the sod which acts as the oven door, and conceals it from our gaze for a time, which varies according to the size of the pie and heat of the oven.

We have some difficulties to contend with in the top of our oven, for the sods which fill in the holes thereof are liable to crumble with the intense heat and fall down in fine dust on our food gently stewing in its cosy nest. The only way to obviate this is to water the top of the oven every morning as if it were a spring garden, and then the clods never get dry enough to play their evil little games. The Skipper compares the baking of a pie to burial by cremation (if that is not a bull). Certainly it always comes out etherealised; a thing of beauty and a joy for at least two days. Esau called this pie after its resurrection ‘a harmony in yellow and brown quite too too utter and distinctly precious;’ and John added, ‘Begorra, me jewel, it is that same, bedad.’

 

We shall now be free to do what seems good in our eyes for several days without the trouble of baking: altogether our stock of provisions is enormous. This is always the way in camp life; first a week of existence on the verge of starvation, and then a time of milk and honey and tables overflowing with plenty.

August 19.—

Some of the bread that John makes is rather heavy. Yesterday we were constrained to point this fact out to him. He pretended not to be able to see it, and in support of his theory ate at supper a quantity of the rolls that we had condemned. The consequence was that about two o’clock A.M. we were roused from our peaceful slumbers by John jumping spasmodically out of bed and rushing to the tent door, uttering at the same time most ghastly yells. At the door he appeared to be awake, so we said, sitting up in bed with our hair on end,—

‘Now then, John. What’s the row?’ To which he answered very quietly,—

‘Why, my line’s caught on that rock over there. I wish you would stop the boat a minute.’

Then he went gently to bed again and continued his unbroken slumbers.

A sleeping man is selfishly regardless of the disquiet he brings on his fellow-creatures, and John, although he must have dreamt all sorts of funny things, did not dream that he was disturbing our night’s rest.

The other night when we were returning from our visit to Rus Vand, John casually seated himself on a rock at the extreme top of the mountain. It was quite dark except for a subdued glow of light caused by the setting moon behind the mountains on the other side of Gjendin Lake. Now the Skipper and Esau take a good deal of interest in moons, because they are considerably affected by the pallid luminary when at the full; consequently they were aware that she had already passed her highest point for that night, and would not show above the peaks until the following evening; but John did not know this, and so when we asked his reason for sitting down on a very sharp and cold stone 5,000 feet above sea level, with the quicksilver right through the bottom of the thermometer, at a time when all honest folk were in bed, he replied,—

‘You fellows go on; I’m going to wait here and see the moon rise.’

We never disturb a man when he feels poetical, lest it should break out in some more dangerous form; so we left him on his ‘cold grey stone,’ and made the best of our way to camp.

When we had about half finished our soup, he came struggling and wading in through the shrubs and swamp, and sat down to supper without making any remarks about the scenery, neither did he touch upon the subject of silver shafts, or shimmering sheen, or a network of frosted filigree chaining down the ripples. He was evidently disappointed about something, and we possessed too much delicacy of feeling to ask what was wrong, and so the matter dropped. But at breakfast this morning the Skipper happened to tell a story about a man he knew, who waited on the quay for some friends who had arrived in a steamer that day. This man had ordered a sumptuous banquet directly the steamer was signalled, then waited three hours expecting a boat to come off every minute, but at last perceived that a curious flag was flying on the steamer, and on inquiry found that she was quarantined for a fortnight. Then Esau could not resist the opportunity, and remarked,—

‘Just like waiting for the moon to rise when she ain’t due over the mountains for twenty-four hours,’ and the harmony of the meeting at once ceased to exist.

The Skipper went after deer, but only had a very long walk without seeing any. We have now got the kitchen into a great state of perfection, so that within ten minutes of his return a recherché repast was on the table. This is rather a difficult thing to manage, as we never know to within a couple of hours what time the hunters will return; but it can be done by having the chops, steaks, or birds ready in one frying-pan, the trout in the other, the potatoes partially cooked, and the tea or coffee made: the leaves or grounds of the latter we remove always after eight minutes’ brewing, so that it does not alter by standing. The table of course is ready laid.

Once and only once there was a long delay, owing to a misfortune with the water that had been boiled for the tea; but the explosion of wrath from the famishing hunter on that occasion was so dreadful, that the utmost endeavours have since been successfully used to prevent its recurrence.