One of the party is always telling us that he intends to inflict on the British public a narration of our experiences on this expedition, and although he has not yet begun to collect materials for the work, we have begun to invent titles for the book that is to be. One is ‘England, Canada, and Norway,’ being a description of Englishmen travelling in Norway with Canadian canoes; and we think this title might induce schoolmasters to buy it, under the impression that it is a geographical treatise on those countries.

One notion is to make the book a collection of cooking recipes for camp life, and call it ‘Grunts from a Gourmand in Gulbrandsdalen, or Paragraphs from the Pen of a Pig;’ but we think we should promote a more active sale among respectable people if it were called ‘Self-Improvement, or Lights thrown on Good Living.’

Another idea is that it might get a sale by appearing surreptitiously among the Christmas books for the young, and for that purpose we should use the names of our two henchmen Anglicised. ‘Oola and Eva: a Tale for Girls,’ could not fail to attract the favourable attention of parents and guardians.

Possibly it might create a greater sensation if it were introduced to the world as ‘Julia and Pausanias: an Idyll.’ It is very difficult to decide on a good name, but we are all agreed that the name once found, it will be perfectly easy to write the book afterwards.

September 4.—

How soothing and pleasant it is, when we hear the storm and rain shrieking and beating outside, to reflect that there is a good solid roof over our heads, and that we shall not be roused in the night by the cry of ‘All hands turn out to slack off guy-ropes!’

This morning the lake was so rough that we perceived that we had been very lucky to make our voyage yesterday; we certainly could not have attempted it to-day. The man from Gjendebod was here, and started for the other end of the lake with Andreas in the big boat about nine o’clock, but at two they came back dead beat and wet through, having been obliged to desist from their attempt before they had gone two miles, and they considered themselves lucky to have got back.

 
Canoeing after Duck in a Storm

The appearance of the lake is wonderfully fine as the white-capped breakers come rolling in, flinging the spray high up the face of the opposing cliffs, and dashing with an angry roar against the black rocks where they jut out into the deep part of the lake. The Skipper, affirming that he could smell the salt in the air, began to look out pollack-flies, while John put on a beautiful brand-new shooting coat, and went down to the shore to pick up seaweed and dig on the sands: he came back saying that the tide was coming in, and he thought he had seen the smoke of a steamer in the offing.

Close to this end of the lake a little promontory runs out, which forms a breakwater, so that the sea just opposite the house is comparatively calm. In this bay, directly after breakfast, we saw two scaups, and the Skipper and Esau manned a canoe to try for them, the former to paddle, the latter to shoot. Only one was shot at, and it managed to fly beyond the headland before falling dead, and we dare not go after it in our frail craft.

 
Andreas: our Retriever

In the afternoon we took all the male inhabitants of this district, viz. Öla, Ivar, and Andreas, to act as spaniels and retrievers, and went into the fjeld above Gjendesheim for ryper. We had quite a sporting afternoon, as we managed to find a good many broods: the strong wind had made them so much wilder that they got up with reasonable haste and energy, instead of waiting to be kicked and then only running away.

 
Ola and Andreas capturing a wounded Grouse

We had great fun also in watching the behaviour of our men, especially their method of capturing a wounded bird. One which was hit in the head had dropped among some rocks, and Öla and Andreas went in pursuit; they crawled suspiciously about, peering over the stones as if they were stalking reindeer; then suddenly catching sight of the bird, which was crouching down as birds hit in the head sometimes do, they advanced cautiously upon it, each with an uplifted stick in his hand, and crept like assassins nearer and nearer to their victim. At last they stood within reach. Öla gave the word to strike, and strike they did, as if they were breaking stones, and the poor old ryper lay at the feet of its murderers a mangled, bleeding corpse.

We shot all the afternoon with almost unvarying luck, hardly ever losing a bird; now getting four barrels into a large brood, now picking up a solitary old cock that had selfishly separated himself from his family, and selected a particularly advantageous feeding-ground for his own exclusive benefit, and at intervals having a little recreation afforded by our men, especially the professional buffoon, Ivar.

In one marshy bit of ground a pair of short-eared owls were incautious enough to fly up in front of Esau, and were promptly added to the bag; they were in beautiful plumage, which was luckily not injured by the shot, so we were much pleased at getting them. Then we went towards the river into the ground frequented by ducks, and got a little shooting there, and finished the day by walking round the shoulder of the lower fjeld about the time that the ryper were coming there to feed, and so back to Gjendesheim. Altogether the walk was most enjoyable, and as we returned and gazed over Gjendin, the contrasts of storm and sunshine, tumbled clouds and rough waters, and occasional glimpses of the highest mountains gleaming through rifts in the surrounding blackness as the bright sunbeams lighted up their peaks of snow, formed the most striking picture of wild and desolate grandeur that can be imagined.

Esau’s shooting is remarkably unerring, and we feel so annoyed with him sometimes when he won’t miss even a palpably difficult chance, that we were quite glad a few days ago when he took such a long shot that it strained his gun, and the Skipper exclaimed, ‘Ah, I told you you would, I’ve been expecting it all along.’

 
John and the Skipper upsetting in the Canoe

John had an unstrung kind of day. Starting down the river to fish soon after breakfast, he became so engrossed in his sport that he forgot all about lunch, and did not return till dinner-time, when he walked abstractedly into the room where we were sitting, and pulled out his watch; then after studying it and making calculations for a short time he remarked slowly, ‘I left here at six minutes past ten, and hanged if it isn’t ten minutes past six now; my watch must have stopped.’ Then he wandered off upstairs to his room, still ruminating over this extraordinary occurrence to his watch; but in his absence Ragnild had changed all his things into another cabin without telling him anything about it, so that he found his old habitation swept and garnished, and began to think, like Clever Alice, ‘This is none of I.’ However, he got over this difficulty and came down to dinner, still looking a trifle abstracted, but with his usual appetite. Afterwards the Skipper paddled him across the river to fish, and when coming back, John upset the canoe and nearly drowned them both in the presence of Esau and every native in the district, who joined in mocking them in the Norwegian tongue from the bank.

Finally he informed us that during his wanderings he had composed a short poem, ‘which,’ said he, ‘as you have not heard it, I will now proceed to recite.’

So we went to bed.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
RAPID-RUNNING.

Sunday, September 5.—

To-day the Skipper and Esau determined to try to run the canoes down the river to Sjödals Lake, where we intend to leave them during our stay at Rus Vand.

All things being ready, the Skipper started about eleven o’clock on his perilous voyage, closely followed by Esau. The river is full of impracticable falls, some of them twenty or thirty feet high, but between these places there are splendid rapids, and the excitement of running them is delightfully fascinating. When we came to a bad fall we carried the canoes round, and enlisted the services of our two men to help us in this part of the performance. Öla did not like this at all, for carrying a canoe of 80 lbs. weight over very rough ground is hard work, and Öla loveth the fireside and the odour of roasting coffee better than hard work on the Sabbath.

Presently we came to a place which the Skipper wanted to run, but which Esau declared to be too dangerous; it was a very swift and rocky rapid, with two extremely sudden turns, the lower of which was only a few yards above a high fall. Esau only ran past the first turn, which was quite nervous work enough, and then got to shore and waited on the bank for the result of the Skipper’s exploit.

Down he came at about fifteen miles an hour, took the first turn most successfully, and then, by some extraordinary strokes of his paddle, which no man living but himself could have performed, and aided by a species of miracle, he got round the second; but then an eddy caught the canoe, and she became unmanageable, so that instead of stopping in a little creek of quiet water as he intended, he came straight on at a terrific speed, and ran high and dry on a ledge of rock just above the fall, losing his paddle at the shock. Wonderful to relate, the canoe was not a bit injured, but the paddle whirled over the abyss and disappeared for ever; and the Skipper was pleased because he had not done the same.

We spent five hours in this kind of amusement, and enjoyed it almost more than anything else we have done. The constant danger of a smash or an upset, the sensation of speed, the delight of the sudden rush to the gliding dip over a fall, with the water roaring past a rock on each side; the big waves below the fall, which catch the canoe and toss it from one to another till you feel as if you must be thrown out; and the curious appearance that the hurrying foam-flecked waters all round present, combine to make Sunday rapid-running a very popular pursuit.

While we were doing the last bit above Sjödals Lake, our men, instigated no doubt by Öla the Lazy, seized the opportunity given by a long rapid to go home, and as we were pretty well tired out with our exertions, we left the canoes above the lowest fall and walked back to Gjendesheim. But we cannot recommend this river to future voyageurs; there are too many places that cannot be run; and we hear that we are regarded as decidedly mad for having attempted it.

 
Making a Portage by the Sjoa River

Öla, our stalker, is a man whom we do not much admire. He is a big, handsome fellow, with a light beard and moustache, and rather a weak face; and his good qualities are extreme cleverness at almost any kind of work—carpentry, smith’s work, needlework, and saddlery, all seem to come alike to him—and as a deer-stalker he is first-rate, and never makes a mistake. But we fear that his profession at home is to be an independent gentleman, and he is very lazy, and nearly always sulky. This sulkiness annoys us more than anything else, but we also get very angry with him for being afraid of everything. He is afraid to go in the canoes, and nothing has ever induced him to enter either of them. He is afraid of rowing against a wind, or going out stalking on two successive days, lest he should tire himself; and he is afraid of washing up plates and pans lest he should lose dignity, but it does not bore him to sit by and watch other people perform the operation.

The Gjende fly was a marvellous sight to-day; we thought him numerous before, but we little knew the accumulated villany of which this noxious creature is capable. Every fly that we saw here a week ago has now got a large and healthy family of some hundreds, and a darkness which may be felt broods over the river and its shores. And now that the cold weather has set in, he begins to perceive that his short but effectual career of annoyance draws near to its close, and the whole face of nature is covered with torpid crawling things, that make one turn in disgust from everything one touches. May his end come soon, for we love him not.

 
A Norwegian Fire-place

We are very comfortable here at night sitting round the noble fireplace in the corner of the room. These corner fireplaces are found in every sæter and homestead in this part of the country, and are very picturesque and cheery, vastly superior to the modern stove, that may be seen standing up gaunt and inhospitable in every house in more civilised regions. Most of them have the chimney supported by a crooked piece of birch wood coming down from the roof and hooked underneath the projecting angle of stonework, but in some there is instead an upright iron bar from the hearth. Generally speaking, they are placed quite against the wall in the corner, but we have seen several with a space behind large enough to walk through, and one which even had a bed behind it.

September 6.—

The sea on Gjendin has organised something remarkably like a ground swell under the influence of the continuous storm, and its fury is more magnificent than ever; no boat here would have a chance of living in it.

Esau spent the morning packing his bird-skins in a wooden box for their journey home, as we hardly expect to get much more in the way of specimens. Then we had another afternoon at ryper, not quite so lucky as yesterday, but still satisfactory. When we returned we found that Andreas had brought from Besse Sæter a vast pile of literature which had been accumulating at the Vaage post office for the last month. After dinner, when we were all buried in our respective letters and papers, occasionally reading out particularly interesting scraps of news, Ragnild came in and informed us that a certain Norwegian, whom we may call Mr. Fox, had come there to fish. This was a man who had done some business for us here two years ago, and we had had a little correspondence with him before coming out this year. Thinking we might have given him some trouble, and not having any great liking for his character, we naturally wished to be especially civil to him; so we asked Ragnild to bring him in and stay to interpret for us.

Presently he entered the room, and after greeting us sat down and refused to have anything to drink: this astonished us so much that it completely drove our small stock of smaller talk out of our heads. The commonplaces of polite conversation sound perfectly ridiculous when gravely uttered to an interpreter for transmission to the proper recipient, and so Ragnild seemed to think, for her translation always sounded much shorter than our flowery sentences. We tried a variety of feeble questions to which we already knew the answers, somewhat in the following style:—

‘We presume, Mr. Fox, that you like Norwegian cheese?’

‘Does your brother also like Norwegian cheese?’

‘Do you speak German?’

‘No? but your brother, we believe, plays the Norwegian german-flute?’

‘The friends of your sister’s children are also our friends. They live in England, but we believe they still like Norwegian cheese.’

‘We like much the cheese of the country, and have never suffered asphyxia from it.’

‘We shall take a small quantity with us to England for the destruction of rats;’ and so forth.

Presently Esau, getting impatient, suggested in a loud voice that we should ‘ask him some questions out of Bennett’s Phrase-book.’ Then he was covered with shame, as he feared that Ragnild would immediately translate this to Mr. Fox; but fortunately she did not.

On reference later to the said Phrase-book we find that some very appropriate and useful sentences may be gleaned from its fertile pages. For instance, ‘Who are you? What sort of weather is it to-day?’ (these two remarks are introductory, as it were, and to inspire confidence in the person addressed). Then we come to the point: ‘Will you lend me a dollar? Be quick! Thank you, you are very kind.’ Here the speaker would turn to Ragnild and proceed thus: ‘Put this in my carpet bag. Make haste and bring me a light, open, four-wheeled phaeton carriage, drawn by one horse.’ Then to Mr. Fox, ‘Good morning; I must go, but I shall return in a month.’ Then the speaker might wink at John and depart.

Now came the most awful pause that the history of the world in its darkest moments can yet point to. We coughed and glared at each other, and felt in our pockets as if we might find something to say there; and then the Skipper had a brilliant idea, and said, ‘Ask Mr. Fox how long he intends to stay here.’ But Ragnild at once replied, ‘Only two days,’ without referring the question to him at all; so that remark was wasted, and our embarrassment became worse than ever; for now not only had we to invent subjects of conversation, but also to put them in such a form that Ragnild should not be able to answer them without taking Mr. Fox into her confidence. He all the time was most annoying, as he would do literally nothing to keep up his end of the conversation, and replied to our lengthiest and most brilliant efforts of exuberant verbosity by monosyllables and inarticulate grunts.

At last, in desperation we presented him with a very nice new English knife, for which he did not seem to care at all; and so we parted, both sides feeling that the interview had been a failure.

The following note is extracted from one of the journals:—‘The common cheese of Great Britain is unknown in Norway, but in the roadside inn, the smallest sæter or farmhouse, and the humble cottage dwelling, the traveller can always obtain that excellent substitute, the goat’s-milk cheese of the country.’ The colour of this excellent substitute is that of Windsor soap; its consistency, leather; and its scent, decomposed glue, which causes the natives to keep it under a glass shade. If you eat it, your own dog will shun you; if you avoid it, you starve.

September 7.—

Esau always wakes up in the most boisterous spirits, and as the partitions between the cabins are only made of thin boards full of knot-holes, he can be heard all over the house the first thing in the morning jeering at John, who sleeps next door, whistling, and crowing like a baby in his cot: he continues these little games long after breakfast-time, and though he is wide awake, will not get up. All this sounds very pleasant and cheery to talk about, but the Skipper, who usually wakes in a temper the reverse of angelic, being influenced by an unequal liver, wishes that these walls were twice as thick, and that Esau was at Hong Kong.

Generally he tries little stratagems to induce Esau to get up, dressing operations having a tendency to quiet him. Sometimes he enters the room sniffing, and remarks, ‘How deuced good the coffee smells roasting!’ or ‘We’re going to have a tip-top fish for breakfast, but there’s very little of that pie left; enough for two of us p’raps’ (this would mean about eight pounds). Or he looks out of the window, and assuming an attitude of intense surprise, hanging on to the frame like Irving in ‘the Bells,’ says, ‘By George, Esau! there’s a fellow just below looking through a binocular that can give yours six lengths for mechanism.’ If all these expedients fail, he gives in, and dresses quickly with his ears full of tow, leaving Esau aloft, and gets into the eating-room, where the floor and ceiling between put a soft pedal on operatic selections.

Esau says all this ill-feeling arises because the Skipper cannot whistle Berlioz’s ‘Faust,’ and is jealous.

Andreas and Ragnild are making preparations for their departure, which takes place to-morrow; then Gjendesheim will be closed, the door fastened, the windows shuttered, and the place will be left to itself until next June. Very soon now Gjendin will be covered with ice and snow: most of the good folks in the sæters have already gone to the valleys for the winter.

We thought it would be more convenient for them if we took our departure to-day, so packed our goods on the pony and said ‘Farvel’ to Gjendesheim. Our last view of Gjendin, as we turned to look from the top of the pass, was just as it appeared when we first saw it—black, gloomy, and forbidding, with the cold north wind sweeping in a hurricane over its waters, and heavy rain-clouds hanging over its mountain shoulders, making a scene as awfully lonely and desolate as it is possible to depict.

 
Jens and his Pony on their way over Bes Fjeld

After the pony had gone with the last load we suddenly discovered that the tent had been forgotten: it and its appurtenances make a package weighing about 70 lbs. Now we all hate carrying 70 lbs., but fortunately at this crisis a deus ex machinâ appeared in the person of a stranger. At first we thought it must be one of our own men returning for something after changing his coat, but on his nearer approach we found that he was the rest of the population of the district, whom we had not seen before, coming down in a body. This was Hans Kleven, who has the reputation of being the best hunter in the country. He is a small sturdy man, with amazing shoulders and a pleasant, good-humoured face, and a most gorgeous check shooting-coat, of a pattern so enormous that there are only three squares on the whole of his back, which is a pretty broad one. This coat was given to him years ago, apparently about 1840, by an English sportsman, and he is as proud of it as ever Joseph was of his celebrated garment. To him we committed our tent, which he carried over to Besse Sæter, three miles away, without turning a hair. We rewarded him with a shilling, and from his profuse gratitude we conjecture that he only expected fourpence for the job.

Our first step at Besse Sæter was, as usual, to demand food; and John asked for a dish called ‘Tuk melk,’ which had been recommended to him as very Norwegian and very good. A woman at once went to fetch it from the other sæter, a quarter of a mile away, and presently brought it in a large wooden milk-tub about the size and shape of a sitz bath. How that poor woman carried it we know not; it occupied half the table, and was so scrupulously clean that we feared to touch it with our sordid hands.

John and Esau at last attacked it in the orthodox manner, which is to sit on opposite sides of the table, and to draw a line across the surface of the milk with a spoon before beginning, and then to ‘eat fair’ up to that line. It would have amused some of our friends at home if they could have seen these two young men of fashion at the moment when both of them were engaged with abnormally large wooden spoons, silently ladling down ‘Tuk melk’ out of a tub as big as a drawing-room table.

They reported that it was on the whole good; something like curds, but with a sourer taste, and it was much improved by sugar; but though they ate a large quantity of it, being men of great courage and determination, they could not persuade the Skipper to risk his life in experiments with untried articles of food. He, however, gave utterance to the following refined expression of his sentiments:—‘I wouldn’t touch that beastliness if you gave me fourteen pence a spoonful to swallow it.’ No one offered the reward.

Out shooting on the other side of the lake, we put up a snipe just at evening, which went down again close to us. This species of game is not common up here, although we find his cousin the woodcock fairly often; consequently we were much excited, and advanced upon the foe with insidious step, and bloodthirsty weapons almost at our shoulders in order to slay him as soon as he should rise. All went well, and at the right moment up he got, and promptly did the Skipper fire and miss him; while Esau’s gun for the first time on record missed fire, and left him using language that ought to have ignited any cartridge. So the happy bird zigzagged off into the dim shades of sheltering night, and we went on our way full of thought and sorrow.

Arriving again at the sæter after narrowly escaping shipwreck in the passage, we found that Jens had come to meet us, and as he will enter our service from this date, we shall no longer need Ivar, and paid him off, arranging, however, that he is to come to help us home when we leave Rus Vand.

We like Ivar very much now, though we did not by any means dote upon him at first. Ivar is a good fellow, but an idiot, perfectly willing to do anything in the world, but not understanding how to do anything. His budding reputation was blasted in our eyes the first time that we left camp and entrusted everything to his care: we were away for three days, and in that time he consumed nearly four pounds of our best butter; on our return we decided that he was a knave, but we have since learnt that it was only his natural impulsiveness that led him to commit such an outrage; and now that we have found how eager he is to oblige us in everything, we like his strange nature better than Öla’s awful laziness of character. He came into the room this morning to stand for his portrait, and the easy, graceful attitude that he assumed for the occasion was inimitable. His waistcoat and boots were perhaps his greatest charm, but his open countenance and genial smile (six inches in diameter) played no small part in causing him to become beloved by us as he was.

Ivar always laughed like a nigger on a racecourse, and whenever we took him out ryper-shooting he was exactly like an unbroken retriever: if a bird was killed, he would rush in to gather it, and we had to shout, ‘Back, Ivar, back! Lie down! Down charge!’ to prevent him disturbing any birds that might have chanced to remain during the yells and convulsions of Christy Minstrel mirth into which the death of a ryper always sent him. His behaviour usually made us laugh so much that we attributed any missing to the unsteadiness caused by constant hilarity. We gave him our spade as a parting present, and dismissed him with our blessing.

CHAPTER XXIX.
RUS VAND.

September 8.—

This morning we crossed the fjeld to Rus Vand in a gale of wind. Waving a ‘Farvel’ to the kindly folk at Besse Sæter, we have a stiff climb up by the side of the torrent which comes gadareneing* down from Bes Lake, high above our heads, and presently we stand on the open fjeld above the sæter. Below lie the green waters and birch-clad banks of Sjödals Lake; far away to the east the great fall and larger trees that mark the outlet of the lake; and still further, glimpses of lower Sjödals Lake, with its forests of pine, haunt of the black game and capercailzie. But we cannot stand long to look, for the side of a Norwegian mountain, though eminently suited to hurricanes, is extremely unsuitable for human beings while the stormy winds do blow. En avant, Messieurs, en avant! and we fight our way across the flat top to the opposite brow. Here we must pause, though Æolus himself say nay. ‘What a glorious sight!’ Straight in front, the cloud-girt peak of Nautgardstind, all glistening white with newly fallen snow, but of him only the top can be seen; his middle is hidden by a never-ending rush of scudding clouds. Higher still and westward the jagged summits of Tyknings Hö and Memurutind, also pure white where the snow can lie, but with huge black lines and chasms where the steep rocky face stands up gaunt and repellent, so sheer that snow can never lodge; nearer the tremendous mass of Bes Hö frowns above us; and far below in front the Russen River winds its way through barren rocks and patches of willow, to warmer and more hospitable regions, leaving with a leap of joy the cold storm-rocked Rus Lake, which has been its cradle since its birth in the mighty glaciers around.

* Gadareneing, i.e. rushing violently down a steep place.

Such was the scene lying before us on the north side of the mountain, grand beyond description, perhaps the finest in Norway, but not exactly inviting to shivering hungry mortals, so not much time was spent on it. Down we went, with the wind worse than on the other side, howling past our ears and screeching in the gun-barrels, and at last arrived at the lake to find Jens hauling for his life at the boat which, though filled with water by the breakers, had fortunately not been battered to pieces on the rocky strand. He had left it dragged up on the beach out of the water, but the sea had increased so much in his absence, that if we had been a little later it would without doubt have been smashed.

However, we soon baled her out, and with Öla as Charon commenced the passage. Rusvasoset, as the outlet is called, is not more than 60 yards across, but the waves had had seven miles of very open water to get up in, and they came rolling down to this end in a very alarming manner. With great difficulty we shoved off, and then with Öla sculling his hardest, and the Skipper keeping our head to wind, we at last got safe across with no mishap but the loss of Öla’s hat and a thorough ducking for all of us.

 
A Stormy Crossing at Rusvasoset

Öla was very sorrowful about his hat, which was of pure Leghorn straw, double seamed, extra quality lining; and being further embellished with a black braid ribbon, it was a great source of pride to him; but we mocked when it flew away, and are inclined to bear its departure with equanimity, and hope it will be accepted as a propitiatory offering by the angry Lady of the Lake.

All the things were at last safely housed, and we soon made ourselves comfortable in our new abode, which is luxury itself in this weather when compared with a tent.

There are two huts, one by the edge of the lake, the other about 20 yards away, and it is the latter which we occupy. We enter by a door about five feet high, invariably knocking our heads against the lintel and swearing as we do so. The first room is about nine feet square, with a narrow dresser under the solitary window on the left, and an iron cooking stove in the nearest corner to the right, the more remote one being tenanted by a bed. Round the room at various heights are shelves and hooks adorned by cooking utensils of all kinds, very kindly left for us by their worthy owners; two or three stools complete the furniture; and on the floor are to be seen carved the effigies of departed trout of fabulous weight, with dates and the initials of their captors. Passing on through a still smaller doorway we find ourselves in another room of the same size, but with three beds instead of one, and an open Norwegian fireplace; the same kind of pegs and shelves, and hooks for guns on the wall; more profile fishes, and walls covered with records in pencil of game killed by former inhabitants, with occasional amusing notes. This is our dining, drawing, and bed room; the other is only used as kitchen.

The men’s hut near the water is also divided into two rooms: the outer and much larger compartment is used as a cellar, larder, and general store-room, and presents, to say the least of it, a somewhat untidy appearance, as bottles, barrels, and boards, a grindstone, reindeer bones, a saw, a side-saddle, and old nets are piled together without any attempt at order. The inner room is very small, about nine feet by four, and there our two men sleep; and there also is a large oven built of stone, and heated by a fire inside it. As we had no bread, we proceeded to bake, and our ignorance of the manners and customs of this oven caused the bread to have a terribly trying time of it; for we did not make it hot enough at the first attempt, and the bread was left lying on the top covered by a cloth for over an hour while the oven was being heated a second time.

All’s well that ends well, and this batch of rolls turned out the very best that frail man ever tasted, and consequently at supper we ate enough bread and butter and jam to supply a school feast of the hungriest description.

While the Skipper and John attended to the loaves Esau looked after the fishes, and very soon got a nice dish of half-pounders in the river. As he came back something in the middle of the stream caught his eye. ‘It is, yet it can’t be—yes, by George, it is, Öla’s hat!’ wedged in between two rocks, and slightly out of shape, but with the double-seamed, extra quality lining uninjured, and the pure Leghorn straw in very fair condition. The effusion with which Öla received it was a sight to be seen, but no one else exhibited much enthusiasm.

An inventory of our remaining stores reveals the fact that we have heaps of everything except coffee and bacon, which can only last about a week longer. In view of this happy state of things the Skipper proposed to spend a week of wild and reckless profusion and sinful extravagance.

Esau at once pictured himself seated on a grassy slope giving way to Epicurean indulgence, surrounded by three untouched pots of jam, and eating from a fourth with a table-spoon; at his side a cup of tea blacker than ink, and flavoured with condensed milk thicker than cream, while he flipped lumps of sugar into the water instead of pebbles, and commanded Öla to sand the floor of the hut with pepper.

John suggested as an amendment that we should make some exception to show that we possess the power of self-denial. ‘Let us,’ said he, ‘deny ourselves in some one thing. Not in luxuries, which are getting scarce; in that there would be no merit. No; rather let us exercise our virtue in respect of what we have in the greatest abundance, and thereby show a great and shining example to the world. Let us abstain entirely from water.’ (He had ascertained that there was plenty of whisky.)

Esau rose to oppose the remarks of the honourable gentleman. ‘Such self-denial would be a good action, but the constant performance of virtuous actions tends to make one haughty. I dare say you fellows don’t know this, but I do, because I’ve tried it. I prefer to be wicked and humble.’

The motion was not pressed to a division.

We are well provided with all kinds of food, for we found in the larder a shoulder of venison, and we have any amount of ryper, which, as John says, ‘will save our bacon, though they could not save their own;’ and so with a comfortable hut to live in, a river full of fish at our door, and a blazing fire to sit round, life assumes a rosy hue, and we go to sleep in real beds with bright hopes of the future.

The Skipper was heard to murmur as he turned over to sleep, ‘I say, what bread that is! When I get home I shall publish a pamphlet, and teach all the world to bake like that.’

It is rather rough on the Skipper’s pamphlet to publish his recipe here, but this is copied from his journal:—

‘Take dough in large quantities and place it on a tin. Heat the oven till you are sick to death of piling on wood. Smoke a pipe, and remove the ashes. Place the dough in the oven, and leave home for an indefinite period. If you ever return, remove the decomposed particles, and let them get warm in the sun, or else freeze in the snow, it really don’t matter a bit. Now heat the oven and recommit them. Brood over the oven exhibiting the tenderest solicitude. They will soon be done, and perhaps will be good, perhaps not; nobody can tell.’

September 9.—

Last night was very cold, and this morning there was ice on the lake, and the bilge-water in the boat was frozen solid. Esau and Jens went up the lake in the boat to stalk, and the Skipper accompanied them to fish, while John fished nearer home.

About six o’clock the boat was seen returning loaded with the head and skin of a very fine buck, and Esau gave us his history thus:—

‘As soon as we landed halfway up the lake we found the spoor of two very large bucks and a smaller one which had swum across the lake in the night. They seemed to have gone towards the Tyknings glacier, so we went in that direction also. The wind was as bad as it could be in that valley, for we were obliged to walk exactly with it at first instead of against it, in order to get round a sufficiently large piece of country, and then work back against the wind. We walked a couple of miles without seeing anything, and at last got close to the Tyknings glacier and the iceberg lake at its foot. You know that lake well enough, Skipper, full of lumps of ice, some of them as big as this hut, which keep breaking off from the projecting glacier as it slides down; and I dare say you remember what an awful deathly stillness reigns there and what a dismal sight the lake is, cold and black under the shade of the crags which close in its sides.

‘Well, we sat down there and used the glasses for a long time——’

‘What do you mean by “using the glasses?”’ interrupted John; ‘drinking whisky and water?’

Esau withered him with a look and went on.

‘Well, “spied,” if you like, spied for a long time without seeing anything; and we had just walked on again a few yards, when the silence was suddenly broken by a cry from Jens of “Reins,” and there, 300 yards in front of us, was a noble buck which had evidently been concealed from our view by some rocks, and had now smelt us and was departing at a stately trot, apparently despising undignified hurry.

‘I fancy his intention was to trot away at that long swinging pace, and get into Asiatic Russia in time for tea; so I grabbed the rifle from Jens, as of course, now that he was alarmed, a long shot was our only chance; sat down on a stone, and with the faintest hopes of hitting him, fired twice, and, of course, missed.

‘Now here was where my luck came in. If that buck had not been so proud, he could have run straight away from us to the glacier beyond the lake, but we were “betwixt the wind and his nobility,” and he wanted to get a clean breeze, and run against it instead of down it. Consequently, when he was about 350 yards away he turned to the right, apparently intending to make a circle round us, and so get the wind in his face.

‘Directly he turned broadside to us Jens gave a shrill whistle, and the buck stopped short for a moment, so that I had just time to make a careful shot, and the bullet hit him in the ribs. At the shot he stumbled, but recovered himself instantly, and made off a good deal faster than before, evidently perceiving that things were getting serious, and that “this here warn’t no child’s play.” Before I could fire again he got into the ravine which runs down towards Rus Lake, and was out of our sight.

‘We thought there was just a chance of cutting him off in that extremely rough ground, though, of course, we could not tell whether he was much hurt or not; so we ran as hard as we could for about a quarter of a mile, loading as we ran. Suddenly I caught sight of him going very slowly, but luckily he did not see us, so we dodged into a little gully, and after another short run came in sight of him standing still, no doubt owing to his wound, and about 250 yards away.

‘This time he saw us, and darted off as fleetly as ever, no longer with his side to us, but straight away. I was dead beat, and Jens had thrown himself down, and was panting like—like——’

‘A concertina?’ suggested the Skipper.

see caption

DEATH OF THE ‘STOR BOCK’ AT THE ICEBERG LAKE, TYKNINGS HÖ.

‘Yes, just so. Anyhow, we could not run another yard; you know what it is on those stones, so I sat down again, and with the rifle going like a pump-handle, fired, and, by the greatest luck, hit him close to the tail, and the bullet went clean through his body and smashed his shoulder. Down he went, and we raised a yell of triumph, whereupon he jumped up again and went off at a slapping pace in a most extraordinary manner. I believe if he could have reached the snow he would have done us even now, but we were between him and the glacier, and he had nothing but rocks to go on, bad enough for a deer with the proper complement of legs and ribs, and very trying indeed to one crippled like this, I’m sure.

‘However, he kept going at a great pace for a few hundred yards, and we lay in a state of exhaustion and watched him through the glass. Soon he began to move more slowly, and then to go round and round in a small circle, and at last he lay down. By that time I had partially recovered my wind, so I stalked him with great care and got within a hundred yards of him, took a steady aim for his heart, and pulled. To my horror he bounced up again, and ran like a hare for a dozen yards, and then rolled over and over as dead as Julius Cæsar.

‘How Jens and I whooped and shook hands and laughed can be imagined by any one who has seen a grand deer almost escape him, and then, by a bit of luck and a breakneck run, just nailed him when the chance seemed hopeless. After that we lay on our backs and panted for some time, but after finishing the whisky and a large portion of the iceberg lake we recovered sufficiently to skin our prize and cut him up. He is a most splendidly fat “stor bock,” Jens says by far the best that has been killed in these parts this year; a beautiful skin, and, best luck of all, his horns have got rid of the velvet, and are fit to take home: and they have fourteen points. I measured the fat on his loins, and it was two and a half inches thick. Jens tried to bring home a hind quarter as well as the head and skin, but before he had gone twenty yards he found that it was too much for him, so turned back and buried it with the rest.’

At this time of year the biggest bucks of a herd seem to separate themselves from the rest and roam about, either alone or perhaps a couple together. We think they act wisely in this respect, as the calves are now old enough to run as fast as their mothers in case of danger, and do not need any paternal protection; and the bucks would no doubt become horribly bored if they remained with their wives and children all the year round; whereas by this system they are quite independent for a time, and roam all over the country, seeing a lot of life and living uncommonly well. Very much like a married man, when he gets away on board a friend’s yacht for a couple of months, and comes back quite brightened up at the end of his trip, and positively agreeable and good-tempered to his wife and family, insomuch that they are right glad to see him home again.

Of course the stalker’s great object in life is to shoot one of these big bucks; but it is a desire seldom realised, as they are very restless, and only haunt the most secluded and difficult country. We have only met with two others in this expedition, and those the Skipper saw retiring at a good swinging trot over the heights of Memurutungen.

We have obtained some interesting information from Jens about the horns of the reindeer. As every one knows, both the bucks and does have horns, but they shed them at different times: those of the does and smaller bucks are now in velvet, and will not get properly hard until October; they will then remain on all through the winter, and be shed in the spring. But the large bucks have their horns hard now, and will shed them in the winter, and so be defenceless during the time when the snow lies thickest.

All this is undoubtedly true, for Jens is thoroughly trustworthy in his facts, but what is the reason?

Jens does not know, but he gives us another fact. In the winter, when the ‘stor bocks’ have no horns, the snow is often so deep that only the strongest deer can scrape it away to lay bare the moss which at that season forms their food. Then come the does and smaller bucks, and with their horns push away the unfortunate big ones, and so are saved from starvation, while the ill-treated ‘stor bocks’ have to work double tides in order to get anything to eat.

We present this fact in all humility to Mr. Darwin as a solution of the problem, ‘Why has the female reindeer horns?’ Evidently, they originally had none, but by constant pushing at their lords and masters they developed them by degrees; then, by the survival of the fittest, those does with the longest and sharpest horns prospered most, and soon there were none of the hornless does left, and all calves began to have horns as a matter of course.

Esau is inclined to the belief that, by the same line of reasoning, the big bucks, constantly being shot at through untold ages, have developed cast-iron ribs, and that that is the reason why they take such a lot of killing.

Possibly we have worked the theory in the wrong direction. It may be that originally all deer of every kind had horns, and the reindeer doe is the only female which now keeps them, because she alone has to fight for her living; but the snow and the horns together are cause and effect, of that we are convinced.

The pièce de résistance at dinner was a ryper curry, executed in the Skipper’s best manner, and worthy of a place amongst the old masters, though providentially none of them were here to help us with it. John also contributed his share to the menu, a roley-poley pudding, which, when it came to table, looked a trifle doughy at the ends, as even the best of such puddings generally do.

John turned to Esau, and in his sweetest manner said, ‘Do you like end, old fellow?’

He, a little astonished at this unwonted politeness, replied with equal courtesy, ‘No, thank you, I don’t think I care about end.’

‘Ah,’ said John, ‘well, the Skipper and I do;’ and thereupon cut the pudding into two portions, and was giving one to the Skipper and the other to himself, when the proceedings were interrupted by a brief but energetic scene of riot and bloodshed, which was terminated by a treaty of peace on the basis of the status quo as regards the pudding, and subsequent re-division of the same into three parts by a mixed commission.

Among the fish brought in to-day was one enormously long brute which ought to have weighed five pounds, but was only three pounds. The Skipper captured this prize at the outlet of the lake, which seems to be a favourite place for sick and dying fish like this.

Matters of food are generally referred to Esau, because he cares more about eating than the other two, as they say, or because he has got more sense than they have, as he says. The two explanations are probably identical.

When this fish was brought to him for judgment, he promptly said, ‘Give it to the men.’ The Skipper replied, ‘My dear chap, whenever we collect any kind of food that isn’t quite nice, you always “give it to the men.”’

Esau became grave at once, and answered ‘You forget we are not in England. At home, truly, we give the best of everything to our servants, and are thankful for the worst ourselves; but Norway is a country where the canker of civilisation has not yet crept in to taint everything it passes over, and where the noisome worm of increasing independence does not blossom in the heart of every tree. Our men would be proud and happy to chew this aged fish, and we have had instances to convince us that they would be prouder and happier if the aged fish were nearly putrid.’

CHAPTER XXX.
LUCK.

September 10.—

The Skipper caused great sorrow this morning at breakfast by announcing his intention of leaving Rus Lake on the day after to-morrow, which ought to be a Sunday, according to our reckoning. It seems that his conscience upbraids him for leaving a brother to be married without his assistance, and the House has sadly approved his decision.

While Esau was having a great day with the trout in the river, the Skipper went after deer, and came back cursing Fortune and all her emissaries and signs, which means ravens, horseshoes, spiders, and so forth. A few days ago, when he was starting on a stalk, he heard a raven croaking overhead, so refrained from looking up lest he should catch its eye, and have bad luck; but that raven was not to be balked of his victim, and obtruded himself so that the Skipper had to see him, and of course no deer came that day. The next day two ravens crossed his path, both cawing in the loudest and most jubilant manner; so he was greatly delighted, thinking that this was a sure precursor of good sport; but something was wrong, and again no deer resulted. But to-day two ravens came and cawed in a gentle, soothing, confident manner just outside the window before we got up: this gave the Skipper great belief in the turn of luck, and he started with a rope in his pocket to tie up the deerskins withal, his knife sharpened like a razor, and his bag full of cartridges. Once again he saw nothing, and was nearly withered away by the cold wind and rain. Coming home he picked up a horseshoe, probably the only one in the Jotunfjeld; but the times are out of joint, and these barometers of fortune have become depressed by the prevailing bad seasons and the state of the weather, so that they cannot be depended on.

In spite of the absence of sport he came back raving about the glorious views of the mountains, which quite repay any one for a long walk now that they are newly covered with snow. From Nautgardstind looking northwards, away from the glaciers, a splendid panorama is spread out—hill, forest, and lake, lighted up by the bright gleams of the September sun, still shining out bravely at intervals although winter has begun. Down to the right is the hilly woodland country through which we journeyed on our way hither, and on the left a vast plain of rolling ground. Far beyond this rises a towering cluster of high-peaked mountains, over whose heads float bands of fleecy clouds, while up their weather-worn sides the cloud-shadows drift and seem to nestle in sleep. They say these peaks are called Ronderne, but surely when seen on such a day, ‘a dream of heaven’ is a better name; for where else on earth can man be so near heaven as in a lofty solitude like this, where he can gaze his fill on nature’s most beautiful loneliness untouched and undisturbed by human hand? Öla’s ignorance of English enables one to gloat in silence over such a scene, without any danger of being rudely recalled to earth by a jarring exclamation of ‘Ain’t it lovely?’ or ‘That’s about as good as they make ’em, eh?’

 
Gloptind Rock, at the Western End of Rus Lake

September 11.—

The Skipper made a last stalk, with his usual luck, not seeing even a track, though he went into ground that we always considered a sure find, near the west end of the lake. Near there, and under the shelter of the curious sugar-loaf rock called Gloptind, there is a little ruined hut, which was built by a former occupier of Rus Vand for greater convenience in shooting near that part of the ground. When we were here before, Esau was obliged to go home prematurely, and the Skipper and Jens went to stay in this den after his departure, and got several deer while there. This evening we persuaded the Skipper to tell us all about it, and after he had put himself in what he considered a comfortable attitude on the bed, and lighted his pipe, he began.

‘Well, when Esau went home, Jens and I were left up here, and got on very comfortably considering the disadvantages under which the human race has laboured ever since that unlucky business of the Tower of Babel.’

‘What does he mean?’ whispered John anxiously to Esau.

‘How should I know?’ replied the latter. ‘Just listen a bit longer, and I dare say we shall find out.’

The Skipper went on: ‘We went out several days, and walked enormous distances without seeing any deer, so one day we decided to put a frying pan, some firewood, and a change of clothes into the boat, and row up to that little tumbledown stone hut at the other end for a night or two, as it is in the heart of the most unfrequented country, and there is nothing near to scare the most timid deer.

‘We packed everything into the boat and rowed off one fine morning, the clouds, however, beginning to hang ominously over the distant mountains. Jens rowed slowly, so that I could fish on the way, and our progress was further delayed by a head-wind.

‘Very soon the clouds closed in all round, and the sky got very dark. Jens kept rowing on steadily, from time to time looking up at the high mountain ridges that wall in the west end of the lake, while I devoted my attention to whipping the water from the stern, hoping to entice some unwary fish before the approaching rain should stop our chance of getting some fresh food. Suddenly he stopped rowing, and uttering the magic word “Reins,” pointed up to an apparently deserted mountain slope on the Bes Hö side, and handed me the glass, by the aid of which I soon discovered two reindeer bucks feeding about a mile away, and almost straight above us.

‘I had on a blue serge suit, so the first thing to be done was to change to my stalking suit then and there in the boat; meanwhile the threatened rain began to descend in torrents, and the wind swept by in such squalls that Jens had to work hard to keep the boat in her place. At last the change was completed, the serge suit stowed away under a mackintosh, and we got to shore and began our stalk.

‘It was a difficult task to keep out of sight while advancing, and we could only move at intervals when the deer shifted for a few moments behind a rock or into a hollow in their search for food, so that we had first to run, when opportunity offered, for a quarter of a mile over very bad ground, then crawl another quarter over more broken ground; and at length, after an hour of this, being pretty close to the deer, they happened to come more into view, and we had to lie prone on our bellies for nearly twenty minutes (while they fed their way into the next hollow); and the heavy rain pelted down on us till we were soaked, sodden, and nearly perished with cold.

‘I thought that time of cramped penance would never end, but at last the hindermost buck got his head safe behind a welcome ridge, and then we were soon up and after them.’

Here the Skipper stopped to strike a match on his trousers and relight his pipe, and then resumed: ‘Now we knew we must be close to them, and with rifles cocked, and hearts beating uncomfortably, advanced expectant. I forgot to tell you that after Esau went home I allowed Jens to take his rifle out, he was so desperately keen about it.

‘Suddenly we came on the bucks only forty yards away, conscious of danger, but not knowing what they feared; too unsettled to feed, too uncertain to move.

see caption

GOOD SPORT, BAD WEATHER. THE SKIPPER’S TWO ‘STOR BOCKS.’

‘I fired first, and immediately afterwards, as pre-arranged, Jens fired, and both deer bounded into the air and disappeared like lightning over a ridge beyond them. We followed at our best pace, I cramming in a couple of cartridges as we ran, and saw them again directly, still running, and a good deal further away. I fired two more shots, and one buck fell dead at once, while the other galloped on about twenty yards further, and then suddenly stumbled and fell head over heels.

‘I fancy that our first shots killed them, and that one was really killed by Jens, but may I never know for certain! The yell that we gave when we saw them both lying dead woke the echoes of that dreary solitude, and must have been worth hearing by any student of human nature: in a wild shout of triumph there is only one language for all nations, and Jens and I joined our voices in the same glorious tongue for once.

‘Both these deer were “stor bocks,” six years old and fat. We skinned them there, and leaving the bodies as usual safe under stones, returned to the boat with the heads and skins. By the way, John, you must have seen the horns of these two deer on the wall of Besse Sæter, for I had no means of getting them home, and Jens put them up there.

‘The day was drawing to a close when we reached the little stone hut which was to be our lodging: its roof was full of holes, and let the rain through like a sieve; but we stretched the two deerskins over it, and so made it habitable for a time. Inside there is, as you know, only just room for two men to lie side by side touching each other; and here, after a liberal meal and a contemplative pipe, we turned in and slept like honest men.

‘Next morning after breakfast, while I was making up a fresh cast for my rod, I saw a man approaching the hut. As this was the only intrusion from human beings that we had suffered for more than a month, I was not a little surprised. Where the deuce could a man come from? and what the dickens could he want? It soon proved to be old Tronhūus with a note for Jens.

 
The old stone Hut near Gloptind

‘I must explain that Besse Sæter where Jens lives belongs to a man who comes from Christiania, and Jens is only his tenant there. This man had arrived at his sæter two days before this with a young English nobleman, whom he was proud to have as his guest, and to whom he naturally wished to show some sport; but he had been unable to do so for want of a good stalker. This was of course very unfortunate for him and his guest, but it by no means justified his present conduct. He had addressed a letter to Jens, but written it in English, so that I should read it, sending merely a verbal message to Jens by his father, to ensure our both knowing the purport of the letter, which was to the following effect:—“Jens. If you do not return with the bearer of this letter to Besse Sæter to show myself and Lord —— some deer, you will at once lose your tenancy of Besse Sæter.” I could not keep Jens and thus cause him to be unfairly ejected from his home, so having no paper with me, I wrote in pencil on the back of the note that Peter had brought: “As you must be aware that Jens is acting as my servant this summer, and that by calling him away you leave me absolutely alone at the stone hut on Rus Vand, I hope that you will not detain him after receiving this note.”

‘With this missive Jens departed, and soon old Peter followed him, and left me, like Robinson Crusoe, alone on my desert highland. I am bound to say that I felt inclined to inquire with Selkirk, “O solitude, where are the charms?” as I turned to perform the duties of the day, absolutely deserted in that desolate spot, with no companions but the lake and solemn mountain heights around me; so after a short time I put the Lares and Penates——’

‘Hollo, what’s that?’ broke in Esau; ‘you never said anything about bringing that with you before.’

‘You duffer!’ said the Skipper; ‘it’s Norwegian for the frying-pan and tea-kettle: do you mean to say you’ve been all this time in the country without learning that?’

‘Oh, all right,’ grunted Esau, ‘go on.’

‘Well, I put them into the boat and sculled the seven miles back to this hut, as I did not feel inclined to remain alone in that little stone hutch for the night.

‘Three days passed before they let Jens return to me; and during that time I was certainly rather dull, and at night felt a trifle creepy, but the days did not pass as slowly as you might have imagined; for being without assistance my time was fully occupied in catching my daily supply of fish, chopping firewood, cooking, washing, and so on. At night the wind howled dismally round the cabin walls, but after the hard work of the day I soon fell asleep, and at last began almost to like the solitary life. Still I longed for Jens to come back, as I could not go out stalking alone; the season was far advanced, and the weather very cold.

‘How I cursed that Englishman’ (gentle murmurs of ‘Bet you did’ from the other two) ‘as I cleaned out the tea-pot and scoured the frying-pan! and how I pictured him to myself wandering with my faithful Jens over the best reindeer-fjeld, and scaring away all the deer with his loud-sounding Bond Street express!’

‘I say, Skipper,’ put in Esau, ‘did his Bond Street express make any more row than yours? because if——’

‘My dear fellow,’ said the Skipper, ‘you always put that kind of expression into narrative; it’s Homeric; an educated man would be pleased with it.

‘I was always expecting Jens; every sound, real or imaginary, caused me to look up over the deserted lake, and hold my breath while I listened to make out his voice in the distance; and when I went down the river I heard his cheery shout in the rush of every rapid and the roar of every fall.

‘After all it was only three days, and then one afternoon I found him waiting for me at the hut. I was glad to see him—gladder than I am to hear the dinner-bell at home, as glad as a bee is to get into the open air after bunting its head against a window-pane for three days’ (‘Beautiful simile!’ from John), ‘and especially glad to see how pleased old Jens was to return to me again. I was also not particularly sorry to hear that he had found a herd of deer and taken Lord —— within shot; and the only result was a calf, which Jens himself shot after the Englishman had missed.

‘After this I had a good time with grand fishing and more deer, but we did not stay much longer at Rus Vand; as you know, I was back in England by the end of September.’

The story ended, we called the men in and had a great settlement of wages and milk bills, and arranged how the Skipper’s baggage should be transported tomorrow, and the rest next week.

 
A Night at Rusvasoset, after a Day at Haircutting

Then we filled up glasses round with whisky and drank a solemn Skaal (pronounced Skole) to every one, and then to Gammle Norgé, and finished the evening with ‘Auld Lang Syne.’ It must have been a ludicrous sight as we stood tightly packed in that tiny room, with heads all bent towards the centre to avoid the rafters, our hands crossed in orthodox fashion, and roaring at our highest respective pitches as much of the words as we knew, while we swayed our arms up and down in the manner essential to the proper rendering of the good old song.

When the men cleared out, Esau produced a gorgeous counterpane which he had commissioned Peter to buy in Vaage six weeks ago, and which the old man brought over from Besse Sæter to-day. Its manufacture is peculiar to this district; it is woven in most tasteful colours, red, magenta, blue, and green being the most prominent, with a kind of diamond pattern in white running diagonally across it; but, from the ‘What’s the next article?’ air with which Esau exhibited it, we began to suspect that he was rather disappointed with it, and wanted to induce some one to buy it. Suffice it to say that its introduction was received with coldness.

This was a bad day for sport; we caught very little, and shot less. We did spy a reindeer directly after breakfast, but as he was about six miles away, close to the top of one of the highest mountains, and running as if Loki were after him, no one cared about pursuing him.

John fishing in the lake managed to lose a ‘twa and saxpenny’ minnow, trace, and twenty yards of reel line, and was quite discontented.

At night the wind had increased to a storm, and the clouds were right down on the water, and hurrying past in endless wreathing drifts like witches trooping to their nocturnal Sabbath.