CHAPTER XVII

"The place called Oak Hall?"

"Yes, sir. I presume you are Mr. Philip Chesterfield."

"I am, and I am a great-uncle to Nicholas." The old man lowered his cane. "What do you know of Nicholas?" he questioned, curiously.

"I know a great deal, Mr. Chesterfield. If you care to hear the story I will tell it to you."

"Don't you listen to him, Uncle Phil," stormed Nick Jasniff, in increasing fear. "He'll tell you nothing but a bundle of lies."

"I can prove every statement I make," answered Dave.

"Dave will tell you nothing but the truth," added Roger.

"Who are you, young man?"

"My name is Roger Morr."

"He is the son of United States Senator Morr," added Dave.

"Ah, indeed!" The fact that Roger's father occupied a high political position seemed to have considerable effect on Philip Chesterfield.

"They are a couple of fakirs!" cried Nick Jasniff. He knew not what else to say.

"Nicholas, be silent. I will listen to their story, and then you can have your say."

"If you are going to listen to them, I'll get out," stormed the runaway, and edged for the door.

"No, you don't; you'll stay here!" exclaimed Dave, and blocked the way. "I came all the way from America to catch you, and you are not going until I get through with you."

A brief war of words followed, which came to an end when the old gentleman locked the door. Then he had Dave and Roger tell their tale in full, after which he asked a number of questions. Nick Jasniff wanted to break into the conversation a number of times, but was not permitted to do so.

"Nicholas, if this is true, you are a young scoundrel, and I do not want you in my house another day!" exclaimed Philip Chesterfield. "I shall send a telegram to your father at once, asking him to come on."

"Where is Mr. Jasniff?" asked Dave.

"In Italy—he went there for his wife's health."

"Did Nicholas tell you anything about my folks?" went on Dave.

"Nothing excepting that he had met a Mr. Porter and his daughter, and that the father had sailed for Norway and the daughter for the States."

"Then that news must be true," said Roger. "Dave, the best thing you can do is to go to Christiania at once."

"Exactly my way of thinking, Roger."

"And about Nick——?"

"You shan't do anything to me!" roared the runaway. "I won't stand for it."

"I shall notify the authorities in America where you are," answered Dave. "Then they can do as they please in the affair."

A little later Dave and Roger left the mansion, Philip Chesterfield bidding them a formal good-bye. Nick Jasniff was sullen and looked as if he wanted to kill both boys.

"He'll get back at us some day, if he can," observed the senator's son, as they drove back to Siddingate.

Arriving at the town, the two youths took the first train back to London proper. Here they found that to get to Christiania they would have to take a train to Hull and from there try to obtain passage on some vessel bound for the Norwegian capital.

"It's only a four hours' ride to Hull," said Dave, consulting a time-table. "I can get there to-night, if I wish."

"All right, let us take the first train."

"Do you want to go to Hull to see me off, Roger?"

"I am not going to see you off, Dave."

"What do you mean?"

"I am going with you—if you'll have me."

"To Norway?"

"Sure—anywhere."

"But what will your folks say?"

"They won't mind—so long as I keep out of trouble. I told father we might go further than England."

"I'll be pleased to have you along."

They settled up at the hotel, and quarter of an hour later were at the station. At the "booking office," as it is called in England, they procured tickets for seats in a first-class coach, and soon the train came along.

"It seems funny to be locked up in such a coach as this," remarked Dave. "I must say, I like our style of open car best."

They were soon leaving the smoky and foggy city of London behind and rushing northward. Only two stops were made, one at Leicester and the other at Sheffield.

"Here is where the celebrated Sheffield cutlery comes from," observed Roger, as the last stop was made. "If we were going to stop over I'd buy a pocket-knife for a souvenir."

"Remember, we must get some picture postals at Hull," answered Dave, who had not forgotten the promise made to Jessie. He had already sent her over a dozen cards.

Hull is one of the main seaports of England, and ship-building and sail-making are great industries there. In the harbor were a great many steamers and sailing vessels, bound for ports all over the world.

Dave was in a fever of anxiety. He had been unable to ascertain when the expedition in which his father was interested was to start northward from Christiania, and, as a consequence, he wanted to reach the Norwegian capital city with the least possible delay.

"It will be just my luck to arrive there after the expedition has left," he half groaned to his chum.

"Let us hope for the best, Dave."

As late as it was, the two youths skirmished around and finally learned that a steamer would leave Hull for Christiania two days later. On this they booked passage, and then Dave hurried to the nearest telegraph office and sent a cablegram to Christiania, addressed to his parent. The message ran as follows:

"Wait until I reach you. Your long-lost son,

"David Porter."

"That ought to hold him," said he to Roger.

"Of course it will—if he gets it, Dave."

The message sent, the two boys looked around for a hotel, and then obtained a decidedly late supper. When they retired, Roger slept "like a top," as he expressed it, but Dave lay awake for hours, wondering what the future held in store for him. Now that he seemed so close to his father he could scarcely wait for the time to come when they should meet face to face.

Roughly estimated, the distance from Hull to Christiania is about six hundred miles. As it was winter, the harbor of the Norwegian capital was frozen up, so the steamer could not go further than Dröbak, a seaport eighteen miles south of the capital. Owing to the wintry weather Dave learned that it would take three full days to make the voyage.

It was not particularly cold on leaving Hull, but as soon as the steamer struck the full sweep of the winds on the North Sea the thermometer went down rapidly.

"Phew! but this is cold!" ejaculated Roger, as he buttoned his coat tightly. "It's like being down on the coast of Maine."

"Just wait until we get to Norway—there is where you'll find it cold," was Dave's reply. "Maybe we'll have to invest in fur overcoats."

"Well, I am willing," answered the senator's son, with a laugh.

Fortunately, both boys had been supplied with considerable cash and ample letters of credit, so that monetary matters did not bother them. Before leaving Hull, Dave supplied himself with an English-Danish Self-Educator, and on the ship both he and Roger studied the volume with interest.

"I want to know a few words," said the senator's son. "It is awful to be in a country when you're not able to speak a word of the language."

On the second day of the voyage the two boys got something of a scare. They heard an explosion and then a great cloud of steam spread over the vessel.

"Something has burst, that's certain!" cried Dave. "Let us go on deck and see what is wrong."

They hurried out on the main deck and there found a great number of passengers, all in a state of excitement. A few were on the point of leaping overboard, thinking the ship was going to sink. But the officers were cool and collected, and did all in their power to restore confidence.

"Nothing serious has occurred," was the announcement one of the officers made, in the presence of Dave and his chum. "A steam-pipe burst and one of the engineers was scalded, that is all. The pipe will be repaired as quickly as possible."

"Will this delay us much?" asked Dave.

"That I cannot say," was the answer.

The rest of the day passed quietly enough. The steamer moved along slowly, for the engines were badly crippled. Dave, thinking only of the time in which he might reach his destination, walked the deck impatiently.

"I'll wager this means another day," said he to his chum.

"More than likely," was the reply. "Well, since it can't be helped you'll have to make the best of it."

"Yes, I know, Roger, but I'd give almost anything to be in Christiania now."

"I can appreciate how you feel. I'd be the same way, if I were in your place, Dave," was the kindly answer of the senator's son.

That night a heavy snowstorm came on, and by morning all around the ship was completely shut out of sight. The steam-pipe had now been mended, but the engines had to be kept down at a low speed for fear of running into some other craft. The foghorn was blown constantly, and occasionally came an answering sound from another vessel. Once they ran close to a three-masted schooner, and then the bell on that ship was rung with a loud clamor.

"That was a narrow escape," said Dave, after the schooner had drifted from sight.

Towards night the snowstorm increased in violence. The wind piped merrily over the deck of the steamer and the boys were glad to remain inside. They turned in early, since there was nothing else to do.

Dave could not sleep at first, but presently dropped into a light doze. When he awoke he sat up with a start. He had heard a strange noise, but now all was silent. He called to Roger, but received no reply. Then he called again and got up and lighted the room.

"Roger, where are you?" he repeated, and then looked toward his chum's berth. To his amazement the berth was made up as if it had never been occupied, and Roger was gone.

CHAPTER XVIII

There was a dim light burning outside, and nobody appeared to be in sight. Dave looked up and down the passageway eagerly, and even stepped to one of the corners. Then he walked to the main saloon, with its big sofas and easy-chairs, and its grand piano. Not a soul was in sight anywhere.

"Well, if this isn't the queerest yet," he murmured, and pinched himself, to make certain that he was not dreaming. He walked to one end of the saloon and then to the other, and then started for the stairs leading out on deck.

At that moment there came an extra-heavy gust of wind and the steamer rocked violently. Dave was thrown on his side and fell headlong over the end of a sofa. As he went down he heard several cries, one in a voice that sounded familiar to him.

"That must have been Roger," he told himself. "Where can he be?" And then he called out loudly: "Roger! Roger Morr! Where are you?"

The boat continued to toss and pitch, and now Dave had all he could do to keep his feet. When he reached the entrance to the main deck he was stopped by one of the under officers.

"Too rough to go out there."

"I am looking for my friend," answered Dave, and told of the disappearance of the senator's son.

"Perhaps he's walking in his sleep," suggested the officer.

"That may be it!" cried Dave. "Queer I didn't think of it. He told me he got up once in a great while."

"If he was walking in his sleep the lurching of the boat must have awakened him—if he cried out. Maybe he went back to his stateroom," continued the ship's official.

"I'll go back and see."

Not without some difficulty Dave returned to his stateroom. The steamer was pitching and tossing dreadfully, and the wind made a wild whistling sound overhead. He heard the overturning of a table or a chair and the crash of glassware.

"We are going to have a tough night of it," he reasoned. "Guess further sleep will be out of the question."

Hoping he would find his chum in the stateroom, Dave returned to the apartment. Here another surprise was in store for him. The door was locked from the inside. He rapped loudly several times.

"Hello! Who's there?" came in a sleepy voice.

"Roger, is that you? Let me in."

"Dave, I declare! Why, I thought you were in your berth."

The senator's son came to the door and opened it. Dave entered the stateroom, which was dark.

"Roger, where have you been?" he demanded.

"So you knew I went out, did you?" asked the senator's son, in a voice that showed he was vexed. "I thought I went out and came back without your knowing it. I thought you were still in your berth."

"I got up, made a light, and found you gone—and the berth made up as if you hadn't used it." Dave paused and looked at his chum, who had just lit up.

"Well—er—I might as well tell you. I must have been walking in my sleep," stammered Roger, and got red. "I'm as bad as Shadow Hamilton."

"Well, I hope you didn't steal anything, as he did," added Dave hastily, referring to an unfortunate incident already well known to my old readers.

"I don't think I did—but I don't know where I went."

"You made up your bed, too."

"Did I? That's queer."

"And you don't know where you went at all, Roger?"

"No, I haven't the slightest idea."

"Were you dreaming?"

"I think I was—I'm not sure. It was something about Nick Jasniff—he was trying to take something from me and I got afraid of him. That is all I can remember."

"I thought I heard you scream—when the vessel gave that awful lurch a few minutes ago."

"That woke me up, and I found myself in one of the passageways not far from here. I was dazed by the tumble I received, but got back here all right."

"After this you had better tie yourself to the bed," was Dave's final remark, and then he turned in again and the light was again extinguished.

But anything more than fitful dozes could not be had. The North Sea is well known for its violent storms during the winter months, and this one proved to be a "corker," as Dave called it afterwards. The waves were lashed into a tremendous fury, and some broke over the steamer's deck with terrific force, one carrying away a twenty-foot section of the forward rail. The high wind was accompanied by a snow that was as fine and hard as salt, and this sifted through every crack the windows and doors afforded.

"No port to-day," said Dave; and he was right. To run close to the Norwegian coast in such a high wind, and with so much snow flying, was dangerous, and they had to remain for twenty-four hours longer at the entrance to Christiania Fjord—fjord being the local name for bay.

But at last the snow stopped coming down and the wind subsided a little, and the steamer headed up the bay to Dröbak, located on the east shore of the harbor. Here there was a good deal of floating ice, and plowing among it were vessels of all kinds and sizes, all covered with ice and snow.

"It's wintry enough up here, goodness knows," remarked Roger. "I wonder how far north Christiania is?"

"I was looking it up on the map," answered Dave. "It is located about sixty degrees north, which is just about the latitude of the lower coast of Greenland."

"What, as far north as that! No wonder it is cold."

"Don't forget, Roger, that Norway is the Land of the Midnight Sun. At the far north they have a night lasting about three months."

"Well, I don't want such a night as that, just yet."

"No—you might do too much sleep-walking," and Dave grinned.

"Oh, cut that out!" and the face of the senator's son grew red.

"I shan't mention it again."

Dröbak is but a small place, containing less than twenty-five hundred inhabitants, but during the winter all the shipping of the fjord congregates there, and as a consequence the scene was a lively one. The boys were quickly landed, and then from one of the dock officials learned where they could get a train running to the capital. Their baggage had been examined and passed upon by the usual custom officials.

"Well, this is certainly a second-rate railroad," was Dave's comment, as they seated themselves in the stuffy coach and had the door locked upon them. Then the train moved off at a slow rate of speed that was tantalizing to both. With half a dozen stops, it took them nearly an hour to reach Christiania, only eighteen miles away. Looking out of the window, the landscape was a dreary one, of marshland on one side and rocks on the other, all covered with ice and snow. The coach had no heat in it, and Roger declared that his feet were half frozen.

"Puts me in mind of the time I visited a lumber camp in upper Maine," he told his chum. "It was in the winter-time, and they only ran one train a day, of two cars, a freight and a combination of everything else. We were delayed on the road, almost snowed in, and I didn't thaw out for a week afterwards."

At the railroad station in Christiania they had some trouble passing the guard. Again their baggage was looked over, and they were taken to an office and asked a dozen or more questions by a man who looked as if he might be a police-inspector. What it was all about they could not make out, but at first the officer was not inclined to let them go.

"Perhaps you had better go back to where you came from," said the man to Dave.

"Why, what's the trouble?" demanded the youth. "I am sure I have done no wrong."

"What brought you to Norway?"

"I am looking for my father. His name is David Porter, like my own. He has joined the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition, bound for the interior of Norway."

"Exactly," and the officer looked wise. "Who is this young man?"

"This is my friend, Roger Morr. He is traveling with me for company."

"You are very young to be traveling alone."

"I can't help that. I want to find my father, and do it as soon as I can."

"Is he expecting you?"

"I don't know. I sent him a cablegram, but I do not know if he received it."

"That expedition—do you know anything about it?" asked the officer, shrewdly.

"No, sir—nothing more than what I saw in the English papers."

"Didn't your father tell you anything about it?"

"No, he couldn't." And Dave hesitated.

"Why?"

"Because—well, he doesn't know me—that is, he doesn't know I am alive."

"This is extraordinary, young man!" exclaimed the officer of the police, for such the man was. "I think you had better explain."

"I am in a great hurry, sir," pleaded Dave.

"He wants to catch his father before the expedition leaves Christiania," put in Roger.

"Before it leaves?"

"Yes."

The police official drew up his shoulders and made a wry face.

"Has it left already?" questioned Dave, eagerly.

"To be sure—four days ago," was the answer, which filled Dave's heart with fresh dismay.

CHAPTER XIX

After that Dave and Roger were asked a great number of additional questions, and Dave had virtually to tell his story from beginning to end. Several officials listened with interest, but whether they believed him or not the boy could not tell.

"I am afraid you will have hard work finding your parent," said the police officer, at the conclusion of the interview.

"He must have left some directions behind—for forwarding mail, and the like."

"Possibly, but I doubt it. The expedition was bound up into the mountains,—so it was said. The means of communication are very poor at this time of year."

The baggage was gone over with care, and the examination was evidently a disappointment to those who made it. A long talk in Norwegian followed between several police officials, and then Dave and Roger were told that they could go.

"Would you mind telling me what it is all about?" questioned Dave, when he was ready to leave.

"You will have to excuse me, but I am not permitted to answer that question," said the man who had brought them in, gravely. "If we have detained you without just cause, we are very sorry for it." And that was all he would say.

"It's mighty queer, to say the least," observed Roger, after they had taken their departure. "Dave, what do you make of it?"

"I think they took us to be some foreigners who had come to Norway for no good purpose. You must remember that throughout Europe they have great trouble with anarchists and with political criminals who plot all sorts of things against the various governments. Maybe they took us to be fellows who had come here to blow somebody up."

"They ought to know better than that. I don't think we look like anarchists."

"Since that uprising in Russia, and the attempt on the king in Italy, every nation over here looks with suspicion on all foreigners. But there is something else to it, I imagine," went on Dave, seriously. "Those fellows acted as if they didn't think much of this expedition which my father has joined. Maybe that is under suspicion, too."

"Yes, I noticed that—and if it is true, your father may have some trouble before he leaves Norway."

"I wish I could get to him at once. I could warn him."

From an Englishman on the steamer the boys had learned of a good hotel where English was spoken, and there they obtained a good room for the night. Before going to bed Dave mailed several postals to Jessie, and also a letter to his Uncle Dunston and another to Phil Lawrence, for the benefit of the boys at Oak Hall.

It was not difficult in Christiania to find out when the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition had left the capital, or what had been its first stopping-place. It had taken a railroad train to Pansfar and then gone northward to the mountain town of Blanfos—so called because of the waterfall in that vicinity—a waterfall being a fos in the native tongue.

"I don't see anything to do but to journey to Blanfos," said Dave. "I presume it will be a mighty cold trip, and you needn't go if you don't wish to, Roger."

"Didn't I say I'd go anywhere you went—even if it's to the North Pole?" was the answer. "Come on,—I'm ready to start any time you are."

"I don't think we'll get to the North Pole, but we may get to the North Cape. But we can't start until we've got those fur overcoats we talked about."

At several of the shops in Christiania they procured all the additional clothing they thought they needed. Some of their lighter-weight stuff they left behind, not wishing to be encumbered with too much baggage. They booked for Pansfar at the railroad station, and by the middle of the afternoon of the second day in Norway were bound northward.

"There is that police official, watching us!" cried Roger, as the train was about to depart. He was right—the man was in sight, but he quickly lost himself in a crowd, and whether he got on the train or not they could not tell.

The train was but scantily filled, and only four people occupied the coach with the young Americans. One couple was evidently a newly married pair who had been on a wedding trip to Christiania, and they were very retired and shy. The other pair were a burgomaster and his wife, from some interior town. The burgomaster—who held a position similar to that of a mayor in an American city—wanted everybody to know who he was, and was thoroughly disagreeable. He crowded Dave into a corner until the youth could hardly get any air.

"I'll thank you not to crowd so much—there is plenty of room," said the boy.

The Norwegian did not understand, and continued to crowd the youth. Then Dave grew thoroughly angry and crowded back, digging his elbow well into the burgomaster's fat ribs. This caused the man to glare at the young American. Nothing daunted, Dave glared back.

"What do you do that for?" demanded the burgomaster, sourly.

"I don't speak Norwegian," answered Dave, brokenly, for that was one of the native phrases he had picked up. "But I want you to quit crowding me," he added, in English, and moved his elbows to show what he meant.

The burly Norwegian had supposed he would daunt Dave by his looks, and when he saw that the young American was unmoved he was nonplussed. He growled out something to his wife, who grumbled something in return. He did not budge, and Dave continued to hold his elbow well in the fellow's ribs. The situation had its comical side, and it was all Roger could do to keep from laughing.

"If you don't stop that, I'll have you put off the train!" roared the burgomaster.

As Dave did not understand, he said nothing.

A few minutes passed, and the train came to a halt and the door was unlocked. Nobody got out, but a round and ruddy-faced man got in and nodded to all those present.

"Guard! guard! Come here!" roared the burgomaster, but even as he spoke the door was closed and locked again, and the train moved off. Then of a sudden the Norwegian grabbed Dave by the shoulder.

"Let go there!" cried the youth, and took hold of the man's fat wrist. He gave such a tight squeeze that the burgomaster was glad enough to release his hold.

"I say, what's the matter here?" demanded the man who had just come in, and spoke in a distinctly English tone of voice.

"He's been shoving me into a corner and I told him to quit," answered Dave, glad to be able to make himself understood to somebody besides Roger.

The Englishman looked at the Norwegian and gave a grunt of disgust. "Can't you let the lad alone?" he demanded, in Norwegian. "He's not hurting you any, is he? What's the use of acting as if you owned the whole coach?"

The burgomaster attempted to answer, but the Englishman would scarcely listen. He liked Dave's looks, while he could readily see that the Norwegian was nothing but a bully. He said he didn't care if the man was a burgomaster, if Dave wasn't doing anything wrong he must be let alone, and a good deal more to the same effect. He and the Norwegian got into a spirited argument, but finally the burgomaster cooled down a bit, got up and bounced down on another seat, and his wife followed him.

"Some of these blooming chaps are as overbearing as they can be," remarked the Englishman, after matters had quieted down. "Now this fellow is the burgomaster of some small town up here in Norway, and on that account he thinks he can treat folks as he pleases. I am glad to know you stood up for your rights. Never let them walk over you. Old England every time, say I!" And he smiled broadly.

"I am much obliged to you for what you did," answered Dave, smiling back. "A fellow is at a disadvantage when he can't speak the language."

"That's true, lad. What part of our country do you come from?"

"I come from the United States, and so does my friend here," and the young American introduced himself and Roger.

"Well now, isn't that strange!" exclaimed the newcomer. "And I took you to be English lads sure. Well, next to being English I'd prefer to be an American. My name is Granbury Lapham."

"Granbury Lapham!" cried Dave, quickly. "Not the Lapham of the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition?"

"No, not exactly that, lad, but close to it. That Lapham is my brother Oscar. He is younger than I and daffy on the subject of investigations. As soon as I heard he had started for the mountains of Norway I came over to find out just what he was doing. I don't want him to investigate some high mountain in a snowstorm, fall over some precipice, and kill himself."

"You are going to join the expedition?"

"Yes, if I can find it. But what do you know about it?"

"I am going to join it also, and so is my friend," and then Dave had to give his reasons. Granbury Lapham listened with many a nod to the recital.

"I declare, Master Porter, it sounds like a six-shilling novel, don't you know," he said. "So you haven't ever seen this father of yours? Small wonder you're in a hurry to run across him. Well, I'll assist you all I can. I presume we had better travel together."

"With pleasure!" cried Dave, and he and the Englishman shook hands. Then Granbury Lapham told something of himself, and thus the time passed until Pansfar was reached. Here they got out, the burgomaster scowling after them as they departed.

The Englishman had visited Norway a number of times and spoke Danish and Norwegian very well. He led the way to a tavern, where all enjoyed a smoking-hot meal, with some steaming coffee.

"In the parts of Norway where there are no railroads the stage and sleigh lines, so called, are under the control of the government. The drivers are allowed to charge just so much for driving a person from one place to another, and the road-houses along the way are also subject to official control, and you can always get your meals for a stated price."

"I suppose a fellow can get extras," suggested Roger.

"Certainly—whatever you pay for," answered Granbury Lapham, with a laugh.

He said that the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition consisted of six members, including Mr. Porter. What the object was he did not particularly know, excepting that his brother wanted to gather information concerning the hardy plants of Norway. He knew the party were going to keep to what was known as the Sklovarak Highway as far as Fesfjor and then to a new road leading directly northward.

"I think the best thing we can do is to hire a good sleigh and a double team of horses," said the Englishman. "We'll want a good driver too, one who knows all the roads."

It took them until the next day to obtain just what they wanted. The sleigh was a commodious one, and in it they placed such things as the driver advised them to take along. Then, wrapped in fur overcoats and wearing fur caps, they set off, on a tour that was destined to be filled with not a few perils and strange adventures.

CHAPTER XX

"It is a bad road," said he to Granbury Lapham, in Norwegian. "A slip and a slide and we should all be killed. We must wait until the storm is over." And so they put up at this hut by the roadside, and the horses were stabled in a cow-shed in the rear.

The four days of traveling in the heart of Norway had been full of interest to Dave and Roger. They had passed through half a dozen towns and as many more villages, and had met not a few people on the road, some dressed like ordinary Europeans and others in the bright-colored clothing of their forefathers. They had had "all kinds of meals, mostly bad," as Dave declared, and both boys longed for some "United States cooking," as Roger said. But one thing pleased them—wherever they slept the beds were good and the rooms as clean as wax.

Up to the day previous they had heard a number of times about the scientific expedition, which was said to be just ahead. But then somebody had sent them astray, and in trying to get on the right road they had been caught in the snowstorm and been forced to take to the shelter as described.

"Too bad, Dave; especially when you hoped to meet your father by Christmas," said Roger. "But shut the door—it is too cold for comfort out there."

"I opened it to get a whiff of fresh air,—it's vile inside, when the cooking is going on—they use so much fat for frying."

The hut was the property of a sturdy mountaineer, who possessed half a dozen cows and a large flock of sheep. He was a big fellow, all of six feet four inches high, with yellowish hair and bright blue eyes. He was generally good-natured, but the boys once saw him give his oldest son a box on the ear that sent the youngster rolling over and over on the floor.

"He's got a hand on him like a ham," remarked the senator's son. "I shouldn't want him to strike me."

"Most of these Norwegian mountain folks are big and strong," said Granbury Lapham. "I fancy the puny ones die off young."

"What do they do for a living? They can't farm much around here," said Dave.

"They raise sheep, goats, and cows, and a good many of them are wood-choppers. Norwegian lumber is a great thing in the market, and of late years the paper mills are after wood-pulp, which they get from the small growth. Along the coast nearly all the inhabitants are fishermen."

The family of the hut-owner consisted of his wife and seven children. For Christmas dinner there were a hare potpie, carrots and onions, and a pudding with honey sauce. The children had a Christmas tree, brought in by their father from the forest, and this was decorated with fancy-colored papers, and rings, stars and animals, all made of a kind of ginger and spice dough and baked by the housewife. There were a few presents, and the boys and Granbury Lapham added to these by giving the children each a small silver piece, which delighted them hugely.

"I'll wager they are having a fine dinner at the Wadsworth home," said Dave, with a sigh. In his mind's eye he could see Jessie, his Uncle Dunston, and all the others, making merry around the board.

"Don't mention it, Dave," answered his chum. "We generally have a bang-up time, too."

"What I miss most of all is my plum-pudding, don't you know," remarked Granbury Lapham. "I've had plum-pudding for Christmas ever since I was a baby."

"I'd like to know how my father is faring."

"And my brother," added the Englishman.

"Well, we are bound to catch up to them soon, so don't let us worry about it any more," said the senator's son, cheerfully.

The mountaineer was something of a huntsman, and showed the boys his shotgun, a weapon they considered rather antiquated, yet one capable of doing good service.

"He says he once brought down a bear with that gun," said Granbury Lapham. "It must have been at close quarters, for, as I understand it, a Norway bear is a pretty tough creature to kill."

"Do they have many wild animals up here?" questioned Roger, with interest.

"They have, besides bears, a good many wolves, some lynxes, and also red deer, reindeer, hares, and a variety of small animals."

"We must go out hunting before we leave Norway!" cried Roger, who liked the sport very much.

"All right, I'm willing," answered Dave. "But I should like to find my father first," he added, hastily.

"Oh, of course."

The evening of Christmas Day was spent in watching the children around the decorated tree, which was lit up with a dozen or more tiny candles, of home production. Then the boys turned in and Granbury Lapham followed.

About the middle of the night came a great disturbance, and in a minute the household was in an uproar. They heard the mountaineer call to his wife, and then, lantern in hand, he rushed outside and toward the sheepfold, back of the cow-shed.

"Some wolves have gotten among the sheep," explained Granbury Lapham, after a few words with the woman of the hut. "The man is going after them with his gun."

"Let us see if we can aid him!" exclaimed Roger, and slipped on such of his clothing as he had taken off. He had a loaded pistol in his pocket.

"If you go out, I'll go too," answered Dave, and followed his chum to the rear of the hut. He, too, had a pistol, purchased before going on the journey in the sleigh, and now he looked to see that the weapon was in condition for use.

Outside, they heard the mountaineer calling loudly, although they could not make out what was being said. There was a commotion in the sheepfold and also in the cow-shed. Then came a crashing sound, and from the cow-shed came one of the horses.

"Hullo! one of the horses is running away!" cried Dave. "This won't do at all! Whoa! Whoa, there!"

But the steed did not whoa—evidently not understanding such a command! On it went, around the corner of the hut and along the snowy trail. The sleigh driver was up and after it, and set off on a labored run, cracking a whip as he went.

"I see a wolf!" cried Roger. The beast had just left the sheepfold and was carrying something in its mouth. Evidently it was nearly famished, or it would never have stopped to carry off such a burden.

"It's a sheep!" said Dave.

As he spoke, the senator's son fired, and the bullet from his pistol hit the wolf in the side. The beast staggered for a second and then kept on, still carrying the sheep in its strong teeth.

"He's game, that's sure," said Dave, and now he, too, fired, running forward as he did so. Then came the roar of the shotgun from the sheepfold and out came another wolf, followed presently by a third. The fourth and last of the pack was instantly killed by the mountaineer, who literally, at close range, blew the animal's head off.

Dave's shot caused the wolf with the sheep to falter, and presently it dropped its burden and limped away for the nearest patch of firs. As it did this the second and the third wolf ranged up by the side of the two young Americans. Roger fired three shots in succession and Dave fired twice, but the animals were so quick that but little damage was done. One beast was hit in the tail and the other in the shoulder, and this made them extremely ugly.

Granbury Lapham had come out, but was at the sheepfold with the mountaineer. As a consequence the two boys faced the two wolves alone. One was sniffing at the body of the dead sheep, and now it essayed to raise the carcass up.

"He's going to run off with that sheep!" cried Roger.

"Not if I know it!" answered Dave, and rushing closer, he took the best aim the night afforded and blazed away. The wolf dropped the carcass, gave a vicious snarl, and turned abruptly.

"Look out!" yelled the senator's son, and scarcely had he spoken when the wolf was at Dave's very feet, glaring ferociously into the youth's face. Dave wanted to fire at the animal, but only a click of the hammer followed the pulling of the pistol's trigger.

It was a moment of peril, but Roger came to the rescue. Not to hit his chum, he ran around to the wolf's side and blazed away twice in rapid succession. This was too much for the wolf, and with only a grunt it rolled over and stretched out dead.

"Good for you, Roger!" said Dave. "If you hadn't—— Look out, here comes the other wolf!"

Dave was right: undaunted by the death of its mate, the last wolf—the largest of the pack of four—had leaped up through the snow and darkness. It was so hungry that the smell of blood maddened it beyond all endurance. It leaped so close to Dave it brushed his legs, then grabbed the sheep and began to drag the carcass rapidly through the snow.

"He's game, I must say!" cried Roger, and reloaded his pistol, while Dave did the same. Then came a shout from the sheepfold and the mountaineer put in an appearance, followed by Granbury Lapham.

The man of the place was angry, for three of his best sheep had been killed. He blazed away as soon as he saw the wolf, but his aim was poor, and the snow, blown up by a sudden wind, almost hid the beast from sight. Then the Englishman fired, hitting the wolf in the right hind leg. The animal whirled savagely, dropped the sheep, gave a snarl of rage, and suddenly confronted Roger.

"Get back, you!" yelled the senator's son, and fired point-blank at the wolf. He hit only one ear, and in a twinkling the wolf was on his breast, trying his best to get at Roger's throat.

CHAPTER XXI

Roger had suffered little more than a few scratches, yet he was so weak that the others had to support him back to the hut.

"I—I felt it was my last minute on earth!" he gasped. "If that wolf had been left alone another ten seconds he would have bitten me in the throat!"

"He was certainly a savage beast," replied Dave. He, too, was trembling, in spite of all he could do to control himself.

Several lights were now lit; and leaving Roger at the hut, the others went around to view the damage done. The mountaineer mourned the loss of his sheep, but was rejoiced to know so many wolves were dead.

"I know that big wolf," he told the Englishman. "He had given me a great deal of trouble. He was the leader of the pack. Now he is gone, perhaps I shall have peace for the rest of the winter."

The sleigh driver had returned with the runaway horse. The animal was highly excited and the driver had all he could do to quiet the steed.

"I could tell a long story about this horse," said the sleigh driver. "Once we were caught near Stamo in a great snow. The wolves came after us and this horse was bitten in the flank. That is what made him so afraid. The other horses do not know what wolves really are, and they did not mind them any more than they would so many dogs."

"This is a Christmas night to remember," said Dave, when they finally turned in again. "Roger, if this sort of thing keeps up, we are in for a trip full of excitement."

"Thank you, I don't want to meet any more wolves," replied the senator's son.

All were worn out by what had happened and glad to sleep late the following day. When they arose they found the storm had cleared away and it was as bright as could be expected at this time of year. Once more the sleigh was brought forth and the double team harnessed up. From the mountaineer they obtained a few extra provisions, including a portion of the mutton that had been killed. For this the man would take no pay, but the boys made his wife a present of some silver that pleased the family very much.

"And now to catch the exploring party!" cried Dave. "I don't think they traveled any further than we did in that awful snowstorm."

"It all depends upon what road they were on, so Hendrik tells me," answered Granbury Lapham. Hendrik was the sleigh driver, a good-natured man, although rather silent.

"Does he mean that they could travel on some of the roads, even if it did storm?" asked Dave.

"Yes."

"Well, all we can do is to follow them the best we know how," said Roger.

The new fall of snow had made traveling very heavy, and by noon they had covered only nine miles. Not a hut was in sight, and they made a temporary camp at the edge of a pine forest, where the trees sheltered them from the wind. A fire was built and they broiled a piece of mutton and made a large pot of coffee.

"What a sparsely settled country this is!" remarked the senator's son. "I declare, it looks like some spots in the far West of the United States."

"Norway is the most thinly settled country of Europe," answered Granbury Lapham. "And instead of growing better it seems to grow worse. Many of the peasants emigrate to Canada and the United States, where they can get productive farms without much trouble."

It was necessary to let the horses rest for an hour, and during that time the two boys strolled around the vicinity. There was, however, not much to see, and once off the road they found walking uncertain and dangerous.

"I can now understand why the driver didn't want to go on in that storm," was Dave's comment, when he pulled himself out of a gully several feet deep. "A little more and I'd have gone heels over head, and what would happen to the turnout in such a place I don't know."

"If the sleigh breaks down, or we lose a horse, it will be very bad," answered the Englishman, gravely. "The further north we go the more careful we must be, or we may not get back in safety. I think that exploring expedition was rather a foolhardy undertaking—at this season of the year."

"I believe I know what prompted my father to undertake it," said Dave. "It was the spirit of adventure. My Uncle Dunston says my father loves an adventure of any kind."

"Do you take after him?" asked the Englishman, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I think I must—otherwise I shouldn't be here," and Dave smiled broadly.

The sleigh driver said that if they made good time during the afternoon they would reach the village of Bojowak by five or six o'clock. Here he was certain they would hear further of the exploring party.

"Then let us hurry all we can," said Dave. "If it is too much of a pull for the horses, I, for one, am willing to walk part of the way."

"So am I," added the senator's son, and the Englishman also agreed to this, although he declared that trudging in the deep snow generally winded him greatly.

They were now approaching a dangerous part of the road, which ran around the western slope of two fair-sized mountains. They progressed with care, and frequently the driver would go in advance, to make sure that the footing was good.

"If only the fellows of Oak Hall could see us now!" declared Dave. "Wonder what they would say?"

"I must take another snapshot or two," answered Roger.

He had brought a folding pocket camera with him and had already taken several rolls of pictures. None of the films had been developed, so he could not as yet tell how the snapshots would turn out. Now he took a picture of Dave knee-deep in snow, with the turnout and the others in the background.

"I ought to have a picture of that fight with the wolves," said Roger, when he put his camera away. "When we tell about it at the Hall some of the fellows will be sure to say it's a fish-story."

"Nat Poole won't believe it for one, Roger; and I don't think Merwell will believe it either."

At the mention of Merwell's name Dave's face clouded for an instant.

"I wish Merwell would leave Oak Hall, Roger," he said. "Somehow, I like that chap less than I do Nat Poole or anybody else—even Jasniff."

"So do I. Poole is a fool, and Jasniff is a hot-headed scamp, but this Merwell——" The senator's son could not finish.

"I believe Merwell has the making of a thoroughly bad fellow in him," finished Dave. "I don't see how Doctor Clay allowed him to join the school."

On and on went the sleigh. The road was up hill, and all hands walked. Once they passed a man on horseback, wrapped up in furs. He stared at them curiously.

"Stop, please!" called out Granbury Lapham, in Norwegian, and the traveler came to a halt. When questioned he said he had heard about the strange party of six men who had come into that part of Norway, and he had also heard that the authorities were watching them.

"But where did they go to?" asked the Englishman.

That the man could not tell, but said they might possibly find out at Bojowak, from a man named Quicklabokjav.

"What a name!" cried Dave.

"It's bad enough—but I have heard worse," answered Granbury Lapham. "Some of the Norwegian names are such that a person speaking the English tongue cannot pronounce them correctly."

They were now more anxious than ever to reach Bojowak, which Hendrik said was a village of about sixty or seventy inhabitants. The people were mostly wood-choppers, working for a lumber company that had located in that territory two years before.

The wind was beginning to rise again. This blew the snow down from the mountain side, and occasionally the landscape was all but blotted out thereby. They struggled along as best they could, the driver cracking his whip with the loudness of a pistol. They passed around one edge of the mountain, only to view with consternation a still more dangerous stretch of road ahead.

"Dave, this is getting interesting," remarked Roger, as the horses stopped for a needed rest.

"I don't like the looks of that road, Roger. There is too much snow on the upper side and too deep a hollow on the lower."

"Right you are." The senator's son turned to the Englishman. "Mr. Lapham, will you ask Hendrik if he thinks it is safe to go on?"

When appealed to, the burly sleigh driver merely shrugged his shoulders. Then he looked up the mountain side speculatively.

"He says he thinks we can get through if the wind doesn't blow too strongly," said Granbury Lapham, presently.

"But the wind is blowing strong enough now," answered Roger.

"And it is gradually getting worse," added Dave.

Once again they went forward, but now with added caution. Ahead of them was a point where the firs stood in a large patch with the road cut through the center. As they entered the forest the wind whistled shrilly through the tree branches.

"I'd give a good bit to be safe in that village," remarked Roger, after listening to the wind.

"After we leave this patch of timber we are going to have our own troubles on the road."

They looked at the sleigh driver and saw that he, too, was disturbed. He stopped the team and gazed upward between the firs to the dull and heavy sky. Then he shook his head slowly.

"He says another storm is coming," said Granbury Lapham. "It is a great pity that it can't keep off until we reach Bojowak."

They were in the very center of the patch of firs when the wind increased as if by magic. It caught up the loose snow and sent it whirling this way and that, almost blinding the travelers. The horses, too, could not see, and they stopped short, refusing to go another step. The driver looked around again, and now his face showed that he was frightened.

"He says we must gain shelter of some kind," said the Englishman, after a few hurried words had passed. "He thinks it will be dangerous to remain here among the trees."

"The shelter of the trees is better than nothing," answered Roger. "If we were in the open and this wind—— Gracious! listen to that!"

A sudden rush of wind swept through the forest, causing the trees to sway and creak. The loose snow was blown in all directions, and they had to be careful that they did not get their eyes and mouths full of the stuff. "It's almost as bad as a—a blizzard!" panted Dave. "And I really think it is growing worse every minute!"

"The question is, where shall we go?" said Granbury Lapham.

"Perhaps the driver knows of some shelter," suggested Dave.

"If he does——"

The Englishman got no further, for at that moment came another rush of air. It bore down upon the forest with terrific force, and a second later they heard several trees go down with crashes that terrified them to the heart. It was a most alarming situation, and what to do to protect themselves nobody seemed to know.