Three in Norway Part 14

NOTES ON THE ABOVE COMPOSITION.

[Footnote 1: 'Unbroke.' This is bold poetic imagery, meaning unopened. Breakages were unknown during our expedition, and long experience justifies us in a.s.suring the world that breaking the pot, though an effectual way of getting at the marmalade, is not a satisfactory method. It will be found much better to remove the bladder at the top. This may be depended on.]

[Footnote 2: Need we explain that 'Keiller's own Bonnie Dundee'

alludes to the marmalade made by that great and good man? No, a thousand times no!]

[Footnote 3: 'Smor,' Norwegian b.u.t.ter, p.r.o.nounced Smoeurr--and it tastes like that, too.]

[Footnote 4: 'Brod,' bread. The word does not rhyme to G.o.d, being p.r.o.nounced something like Broat, but it looks as if it rhymed.]

[Footnote 5: 'Spise,' a meal, p.r.o.nounced Speessa.]

[Footnote 6: 'Molte,' cloudberry, p.r.o.nounced Moulta.]

[Footnote 7: 'Glopit,' the mountain between Gjendin and Rus Vand.]

[Footnote 8: 'Stor,' big, p.r.o.nounced Stora before a consonant.]

[Footnote 9: 'Pandecages,' pancakes.]

[Footnote 10: 'Take.' This word is only used by poetic licence, and must not be construed literally. When we attempted to 'take'

John's whisky on our return to camp, there was a good deal of ill-feeling engendered, and he said that no one but himself understood the subtleties of aesthetic metaphor.]

[Footnote 11: 'ol,' the ale of the country, 'rare' both in quality and, alas! in quant.i.ty.]

[Footnote 12: 'Gjende fly,' a fly peculiar to this lake, of which more anon.]

[Footnote 13: 'Green fly,' a charming creature like a large grey blue-bottle with green eyes; it bites a portion of flesh sufficient for its wants, and then goes away to eat it.]

[Footnote 14: 'Bug.' Again poetic licence. 'Cimex lectularius' has not been encountered during our stay in Norway this time; nevertheless he is not unknown in the country, as the sojourners in one of the Lillehammer hotels, not the Victoria, can testify.]

[Footnote 15: 'Skeeter.' The mosquito is a mournful and disgraceful fact; and so are the sand-fly, the stomoxys, and the flea. Memurudalen is more free from insects than any place we have tried.]

_August 25._--Still the same glorious weather, rather too glorious for our purling rivulet, which has now dwindled away to a mere thread of water, while even the larger stream on the hill behind the tent, which we use for bathing, is showing a marked decrease in volume.

The Skipper and ola went out stalking directly after breakfast, and Esau climbed up on to Bes Ho to shoot ryper. John went over to Rus Vand to fish, and had a pleasant day. He managed somehow to drop his native 'tolle kniv' into the lake, and of course immediately discovered that that knife was the most precious thing he possessed, in fact, the only thing he cared about in this world; though until it fell into the lake, he had regarded it with very unenthusiastic feelings--feelings of tolle-ration, the Skipper said. So he undressed and dived for it for a long time, and at last was lucky enough to recover it.

It would have been a pleasing sight to a spectator, if any could have been present, to watch John playing at being a seal all by himself in Rus Vand, or standing on a rock poised on one leg like a heron, with his head sideways and keen eye piercing the cerulean wave. And it was good to see his proud bearing as he returned to camp with the 'tolle kniv'

slung jauntily at his waist, and carrying over his shoulder the scaly spoil s.n.a.t.c.hed from the vasty deep, as we used beautifully to word it in Latin verses--meaning the fish he had caught.

[Ill.u.s.tration: John diving for his knife in Rus Lake]

At 8 P.M. the Skipper had not returned, so we dined, and then sat round the fire wondering what could have happened to delay him; and as time went on and still he never came, we began to get very uneasy; there are so many dangers by which the reindeer hunter may be overtaken--avalanches, creva.s.ses, fogs, snowdrifts, broken limbs, or getting lost. We could only hope that none of these had happened to the Skipper, and at eleven o'clock gave up any hopes of his return that night and turned in, there being then a very decided fog a short way up the Memurua valley.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE SKIPPER'S RETURN.

_August 26._--At breakfast-time the drover who had accompanied us to shoot ryper at Gjendebod arrived here on his way towards lower and more genial regions for the winter. We always feel that we are killing more game than we really need, and here was an outlet for our superfluous meat, so we gave him half a deer, and he went homewards rejoicing greatly.

We had sent Ivar up to the drover's den in Memurudalen at daybreak to see if our missing ones had found their way to it and spent the night there, but he now came back without having found any traces of them.

However, under the cheering influence of the morning sun we soon became resigned to their fate, and Esau so far regained his spirits that he crossed the glacier torrent with a gun, and penetrated the birchwood on the other side, to what he called 'shoot the home coverts.' He presently brought back a woodc.o.c.k, which had got up about fourteen times before he killed it, and each time he had thought it was a fresh c.o.c.k, so that he had had a regular sporting morning after it, 'seeing lots of c.o.c.k get up, shooting at two, and killing one of them,' the wood being so thick that it was almost impossible to get even the snappiest of snap-shots at the agile bird.

Esau then busied himself with the construction of a rack to hold all our guns and spare rods, cleaning rod, &c., with a shelf near the bottom for books, and another one whereon each man might keep his little valuables, such as pipes and watch, fly-books and reels. This contrivance was chiefly formed of birch boughs of peculiar shape, and when finished and placed in its proper position at the further end of the tent just behind our pillows, it presented a truly n.o.ble appearance.

Lunch-time pa.s.sed, and still the Skipper had not returned, so we decided that he must be defunct, and proceeded to write his epitaph, preparatory to organising a search expedition to bring in his remains.

Here is one touching little poem:

He was rather tall and terribly thin, But remarkably roomy inside; We put up these stones to cover his bones Near the place where we think he died.

This is another:

IN MEMURUHAMEREN (Hills Round the Camp).

Our Skipper has gone, our great head cook, On a tour that e'en Cook won't find; In a fissure he's surely taken his hook Nor left any trace behind.

With a rod or pole he would fish for perch, Now a rod, pole, or perch of ground Is more than he needs, and in vain we search, For his body will ne'er be found.

Now his angling is finished, though once every fin Which came within reach he'd attack; He was really so clever at reeling them in, And his terms were to fish, 'nett catsh.'

On a lake or pond, or even a moat, He beamed wherever he went; How cheerfully he would tar his boat!

How gaily would pitch his tent!

After ryper or deer he would walk all day, From the top of a hill to the bottom; And we feel it unpleasantly sad to say That the dear old Reaper's got him.

But we think it is time that this verse were done, Which to mournfully write we've tried In memory o' our darlin' one, Who in Memurudalen died.

While we were still lingering over these beautiful and appropriate sentiments, and deliberating as to whether they should be cut on a stone or only on wood, the corpse suddenly walked into the tent and announced that he wanted something to eat. We soon got over our natural disappointment at the waste of a good epitaph, and really welcomed him quite warmly, much more so when ola appeared laden with the t.i.t-bits of a reindeer buck. Then we set food before the Skipper, and after he had feasted he related unto us his story.

'I left camp yesterday morning determined to beard the savage untamed reindeer of the mountains in his lair, and soon came on very fresh tracks, which we followed for some time, and at each step seemed to get "hotter," as the children say, and the indications of deer being near got more and more encouraging. However, by one o'clock we had seen nothing, so sat down behind a little rocky eminence to have our 'spise.'

Mine was a particularly good lunch, as I had spread some gravy from the 'boss pie' on my slice of bread and b.u.t.ter, and this with the icy cold snow-water was very grateful after a four hours' walk uphill under a scorching sun.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Skipper about to astonish the Reindeer]

'ola also seemed to devour his food with considerable relish. So we had been sitting there some time, happily silent, as we cannot talk each other's tongue, and I was just preparing to move on, and putting my knife back in its sheath, when we heard a slight snort quite close to us.

'ola immediately peeped cautiously over an adjacent stone; then he pushed my rifle into my hand and whispering the magic word "Reins,"

pointed to another stone a few yards away, whither he wished me to crawl. To unsling my cartridge-bag lest it should jingle, and creep to that stone, was what the novelists call the work of a moment: then I raised my head _va-a-ry_ gingerly, and saw forty yards away a single four-year-old buck standing broadside to me with his head in the air, sniffing suspiciously, and his whole att.i.tude denoting uncertainty and caution. This buck, as we found out afterwards from the spoor, had walked up to within ten yards of us as we sat at lunch; then he must have either heard me or smelt ola, probably the latter, for ola seldom washes his hands, never his blood-stained hunting coat; and when I encountered his gaze he had evidently just decided that this was not a good place for reindeer to be about in. This was an excellent frame of mind on his part, but he arrived at it a couple of seconds too late: my rifle was levelled, and the shot hit him just above the heart. At that distance the express bullet smashed a portion of him about as big as a hat, so that he rolled over stone dead, and had no time for lingering glances or last words. Half an hour more, and he was skinned, gralloched, put in a hole and buried under a heap of stones, to remain there until we need his flesh and send the horse to bring him home. Then we built a little cairn to mark his resting-place for future use, and wandered on in search of the rest of his party.

'Very soon we came on the tracks of four other deer, one of them only a calf, but although we followed the spoor all the afternoon we never came up with them: probably they were near enough to hear my shot when I fired, and at once betook themselves to remote regions.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ola performing the Funeral Rites]