Chasing the Sun

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER FIVE.

  CARIOLE TRAVELLING--MISERABLE LODGING AND POOR FARE--NATIVEPECULIARITIES--A NIGHT BATTLE.

  As I am now about to drag my reader through the wild interior of Norway,let me try to describe it. Don't be alarmed, dear reader, I do not meanto be tedious on this point, but I candidly confess that I am puzzled asto how I should begin! Norway is _such_ a jumble of Nature's elements.Perhaps a jumbled description may answer the purpose better than anyother. Here it is, then.

  Mountains, and crags, and gorges, and rocks, and serried ridges;towering peaks and dark ravines; lakes, and fords, and glens, andvalleys; pine-woods, and glaciers, [For a full description of glaciers,see "Fast in the Ice," page 86, volume 3 of this _Miscellany_]streamlets, rivulets, rivers, cascades, waterfalls, and cataracts. Addto this--in summer--sweltering heat in the valleys and everlasting snowand ice on the mountain-tops, with sunlight all night as well as allday--and the description of Norway is complete. No arrangement of thesematerials is necessary. Conceive them arranged as you will, and nomatter how wild your fancy, your conception will be a pretty fair ideaof Norway. Toes these elements into some chamber of your brain; shakethem well up,--don't be timid about it,--then look at the result, andyou will behold Norway!

  Having said thus much, it is unnecessary to say more. Rugged grandeuris the main feature of Norway.

  On a lovely summer's evening, not long after the departure of the_Snowflake_ from Bergen, our three travellers found themselves trottingthrough a wild glen on each side of which rose a range of ruggedmountains, and down the centre of which roared a small river. The glenwas so steep, and the bed of the torrent so broken, that there was not aspot of clear water in its whole course. From the end of the lake outof which it flowed, to the head of the fiord or firth into which it ran,the river was one boiling, roaring mass of milk-white foam.

  Fred Temple and his friends travelled in the ordinary vehicle of thecountry, which is called a _cariole_. The Norwegian cariole holds onlyone person, and the driver or attendant sits on a narrow board above theaxle-tree.

  Of course it follows that each traveller in Norway must have a carioleand a pony to himself. These are hired very cheaply, however. You cantravel post there at the rate of about twopence a mile! Our friends hadthree carioles among them, three ponies, and three drivers or"shooscarles," [This word is spelt as it should be pronounced] besides asmall native cart to carry the luggage.

  Their drive that day, and indeed every day since starting, had beenemphatically up hill and down dale. It was, therefore, impossible tocross such a country in the ordinary jog-trot manner. When notascending a steep hill, they were necessarily descending one; for thelevel parts of the land are few and far between. In order, therefore,to get on at all, it was needful to descend the hills at a slappingpace, so as to make up for time lost in ascending them.

  There was something delightfully wild in this mode of progressing, whichgladdened the hearts of our travellers, each of whom had a strong dashof recklessness in his composition. There was a little danger, too,connected with it, which made it all the more attractive. Frequentlythe roads were narrow, and they wound along the top of precipices overwhich a false step might easily have hurled them. At the foot of manyof the roads, too, there were sharp turns, and it was a matter ofintense delight to Sam Sorrel to try how fast he could gallop down andtake the turn without upsetting.

  The Norwegian ponies are usually small and cream-coloured, with blackmanes and tails or white manes and tails; always, from someincomprehensible reason, with manes and tails different in colour fromtheir bodies. They are hardy, active animals, and they seem to takepositive pleasure in the rattling, neck-or-nothing scamper that succeedseach toilsome ascent.

  The shooscarle is usually the owner of the pony. He may be a man or aboy, but whether man or boy he almost invariably wears a red worstednightcap. He also wears coarse homespun trousers, immensely too long inthe body, and a waistcoat monstrously too short. He will hold the reinsand drive if you choose, but most travellers prefer to drive themselves.

  During the journey Fred Temple usually led the way. Norman Grant, beinga careless, easy-going, drowsy fellow, not to be trusted, was placed inthe middle, and Sam Sorrel brought up the rear. Sam's duty was toprevent straggling, and pick up stray articles or baggage.

  On the day of which I write the three friends had travelled far, andwere very sleepy. It was near midnight when they came to a steep andbroken part of the road, which ran alongside of the foaming riveralready mentioned, and, turning at a sharp angle, crossed it by means ofa rude wooden bridge.

  Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour, the sky was almost as brightas at noon.

  "Mind yourself here," shouted Fred, looking back at Grant, who wasalmost asleep.

  "Hallo! oh, all right!" cried Grant, gathering up the reins andattempting to drive. Fortunately for him Norwegian ponies need nodriving. They are trained to look after themselves. Fred went down thehill at a canter. Grant followed at a spanking trot, and both of themreached the bridge, and made the turn in safety.

  Sam Sorrel was some distance behind. Both he and his shooscarle weresitting bolt-upright, more than half-asleep, with the reins hangingloose on the pony's back. The first thing that awakened Sam was thefeeling of going down hill like a locomotive engine. Rousing himself,he seized the reins, and tried to check the pony. This only confusedit, and made it run the cariole so near to the edge of the river, thatthey were almost upset into it.

  When Sam became fully aware of his position, he opened his eyes, pursedhis lips, and prepared for "squalls." Not being a practised driver, hedid not make sufficient allowance for a large stone which had fallenfrom the cliffs, and lay on the road. He saw what was coming, andgathered himself up for a smash; but the tough little cariole took it asan Irish hunter takes a stone wall. There was a tremendous crash.Sam's teeth came together with a snap, and the shooscarle uttered aroar; no wonder, poor fellow, for his seat being over the axle, andhaving no spring to it, the shock which he received must have been_absolutely_ shocking! However, they got over that without damage, andthe river was crossed by all three in safety.

  The next hill they came to was a still worse one. When they werehalf-way down the leader came to a sudden halt; Grant's cariole almostran over it; Sam and the luggage-cart pulled up just in time, and so,from front to rear, they were jammed up into the smallest space theycould occupy.

  "Hallo! what's wrong?" shouted Grant.

  "Oh! nothing, only a trace or something broken," replied Fred. "Mend itin a minute."

  It was mended in a minute, and away they went again on their recklesscourse over hill and dale.

  The mending of the trace was a simple affair. The harness of each ponyconsisted of nothing more than the reins, a wooden collar, and a woodensaddle. The shafts were fastened to the collar by means of an iron pin,and this pin was secured in its place by a green withe or birch-boughtwisted in a peculiar manner, so as to resemble a piece of rope. Thiswas the only part of the harness that could break, so that when anaccident of the kind occurred the driver had only to step into the woodsand cut a new one. It is a rough-and-ready style of thing, but wellsuited to the rough country and the simple people of Norway.

  Fred, being anxious to see as much as possible, had compelled his guideto turn out of the usual high-road, the consequence of which was that hesoon got into difficulties; for although each shooscarle knew thedistrict through which they were passing, they could not quiteunderstand to what part of the country this peculiar Englishman wasgoing. This is not surprising, for the peculiar Englishman was notquite sure of that point himself!

  On this particular night they seemed to have got quite lost among thehills. At every stage of ten or twelve English miles they changedhorses and drivers. The drivers on this particular stage were morestupid than usual, or Fred Temple was not so bright. Be that as it may,about midnight they arrived at a gloomy, savage place, lying deep amongthe hills, with two or thre
e wooden huts, so poor-looking and so dirtythat a well-bred dog would have objected to go into them. Fred pulledup when he came to this place, and Grant's pony pulled up when his nosetouched the back of Fred's cart. Grant himself and his man were soundasleep. In a few seconds Sam joined them.

  There was a brilliant, rosy light on the mountain-tops, but this camedown in a subdued form to the travellers in the valley. The placescarcely deserved the name of a valley. It was more of a gorge. Themountains rose up like broken walls on each side, until they seemed topierce the sky. If you could fancy that a thunderbolt had split themountain from top to bottom, and scattered great masses of rock all overthe gorge thus formed, you would have an idea of the soft of place inwhich our belated travellers found themselves. Yet even here there werelittle patches of cultivated ground, behind rocks and in out-of-the-waycorners, where the poor inhabitants cultivated a little barley and grassfor their cattle.

  It was a lovely calm night. Had you been there, reader, you would havesaid it was day, not night. There was no sound to break the deepstillness of all around except the murmur of many cataracts of meltedsnow-water, that poured down the mountainsides like threads of silver orstreams of milk. But the rush of these was so mellowed by distance thatthe noise was soft and agreeable.

  "I say, Grant, this will never do," said Fred gravely.

  "I suppose not," returned Grant, with a yawn.

  "What say you, Sam,--shall we go on?"

  "I think so. They can have nothing to give us in such miserable huts asthese except grod [barley-meal porridge], and sour milk, and dirtybeds."

  "Perhaps not even so much as that," said Fred, turning to his driver."How far is it, my man, to the next station?"

  "Ten miles, sir."

  "Hum; shall we go on, comrades?"

  "Go on; forward!" cried Grant and Sorrel.

  So on they went as before, over hill and dale for ten miles, which poorSam (who was very sleepy, but could not sleep in the cariole) declaredwere much more like twenty miles than ten.

  The sun was up, and the birds were twittering, when they reached thenext station. But what was their dismay when they found that it waspoorer and more miserable than the last! It lay in a wilder gorge, andseemed a much more suitable residence for wolves and bears than forhuman beings. Indeed, it was evident that the savage creatures referredto did favour that region with their presence, for the skin of a wolfand the skull of a bear were found hanging on the walls of the first hutthe travellers entered.

  The people in this hamlet were extremely poor and uncommonly stupid.Living as they did in an unfrequented district, they seldom or never sawtravellers, and when Fred asked for something to eat, the reply he gotat first was a stare of astonishment.

  "We must hunt up things for ourselves, I see," cried Sam Sorrel,beginning to search through the hut for victuals. Seeing this, thepeople assisted him; but all that they could produce was a box of barleymeat and two large flat dishes of sour milk.

  This sour milk is a favourite dish with the Norwegians. During summerthe cattle are sent to the pastures high up in the mountains, in orderto spare the small quantity of grass grown in the valleys, which is madeinto hay and stored for winter use. These mountain pastures are calledsaeters, and the milk required by each family for daily use is carrieddown from the saeter by the girls. The milk is put into round flattubs, varying from one to two feet in diameter and four or five inchesdeep. It is then allowed to stand, not only until it is sour, but untilit is thick throughout like curd, with a thick coat of cream on the top.In this form it is eaten with a spoon, and a very pleasant sight it isto behold three or four sturdy herdsmen, and, perchance, one or twoboys, squatting round one of these large dishes, and supping away totheir hearts' content.

  Grant seized the first dish of milk he discovered, and at once sat downon a stool and began to devour it.

  "Hold on, let us start fair!" cried Sam Sorrel, catching up a spoon, andsitting down opposite his comrade on another stool.

  The hut was built of rough logs, and the only furniture in it was of therudest description; a couple of box-beds, two or three stools, and abench, a gaily-painted chest in one corner, and a misshapen table wasall that it contained. There was a very small door at one side, aparticularly small window at the other, and a raised stone fireplace atone end.

  "Well, while you two are stuffing yourselves with sour milk, I'll go andsearch for better fare," said Fred, with a laugh as he left the hut.

  "Good luck go with you," cried Grant; "a bird in the hand is worth twoin the bush. Now, then, old boy," he continued, turning to the owner ofthe hut, "could your goodwife make us a little porridge; I say, Sam,what's the Norse for porridge?"

  "Grod, [Grod is pronounced _groot_] I believe," said Sam, who was stillbusy with the sour milk.

  "Ah yes! grod, that's it," said Grant, turning again to the old man;"grod, grod, get us some grod, grod, grod,--d'ye understand?"

  "Ya, ya," answered the man. It would have been very strange if he had_not_ understood, for though Grant addressed him in English the word_grod_ bawled so frequently into his ear was sufficientlycomprehensible.

  A fire was quickly kindled by the goodwife, a pleasant-looking elderlywoman; and the black family-pot was soon smoking. The old man wassmoking too, in less than five minutes, for Grant, in the fulness of hisheart, gave him a pipe and a lump of tobacco.

  This man was a fine specimen of a hale old Norseman. He wore a completesuit of brown homespun--excepting the jacket, which hung on a rusty nailin the wall. Knee-breeches and worsted stockings showed that even indeclining years he had a good pair of legs. His grey hair hung in longstraight locks over his shoulders, and on his head was the invariablered nightcap. The only weakness for finery displayed by this old herowas in the matter of buttons and braces. The buttons were polishedbrass of enormous size, and the braces were red. These were displayedto great advantage in consequence of a space of full four inchesintervening between the bottom of his vest and the waist-band of hisbreeches.

  While the grod was being made, Fred Temple put up his fishing-rod andrambled away in search of a stream. He had not to go far. In aboutfive minutes he found one that looked tempting. At the very first casta large fish rose so greedily that it leaped quite out of the water andmissed the fly. The next cast the fish caught the fly and Fred caughtthe fish. It was a splendid yellow trout of about a pound weight. Inquarter of an hour Fred had three such trout in the pockets of hisshooting-coat; in half an hour more the three fish were consigned by thethree friends to the region of digestion!

  And now the question of bed had to be considered. Grant settled it asfar as he was concerned by throwing himself down on a pile of brushwoodthat lay in a corner, pillowing his head on a three-legged stool, andgoing off to sleep at once. Fred and Sam looked at the two beds. Theywere extremely dirty, and it was evident that straw was the bedding.

  "Come, travellers must not be particular," cried Fred, as he tumbledinto his box.

  "I couldn't hold my eyes open five minutes longer to save my life,"muttered Sam, as he rolled over into the other.

  In a minute the three friends began to breathe heavily. Two minutesmore and they were snoring, a trio in happy forgetfulness of all theirtoils.

  Now, it must be told that this pleasant state of things did not lastlong. Fred Temple and Sam Sorrel were not the only occupants of thesebeds. Truth, however disagreeable, must be revealed. There were livingcreatures which not only slept in those beds, but which dwelt there whenperfectly wide awake; and these creatures waged unceasing war with everyhuman being that lay down beside them. In a very short time thesleepers found this out. Fred began to grow restless and to groan. Sodid Sam. In the course of an hour or so Fred uttered a fierceexclamation, and rose on his hands and knees. So did Sam. Then Fredand Sam began to fight--not with each other, but--with the common enemy.

  The battle raged for more than an hour, during which the foe, althoughfrequently routed, returned again an
d again to the charge. Theircourage and determination were tremendous. It cannot be said that Fredand Sam were actually put to flight, but a regard for truth compels meto state that they continued _fleaing_ the greater part of that morning,and it was not until the sun was high in the heavens--pouring down aflood of light into that wild glen--that they gained the victory, andlay down to repose on their laurels and straw--not to mention the bodiesof the dead and dying!

  They hoped now to be rewarded for their exertions with a few hours'repose. Vain hope! Scarcely had they closed their eyes when the dooropened, and an old woman, with nose and chin of the nutcracker type,entered the room. This was the grandmother of the family; she had cometo look at the strangers.

  Grant's face, with the eyes shut and the mouth wide-open, was the firstobject that met her view. She bent over him and looked into his mouth,as if anxious to examine his teeth. Having looked him over, and feltthe quality of his clothes with her shrivelled fingers, she turned tothe beds and stared at the other strangers.

  Fred had gone off into a sort of doze, so he bore the inspection well,but Sam was only pretending to sleep, and when he peeped up at the oldface that looked down on his with kindly interest and curiosity, hefound it difficult to check a smile.

  Having looked at them well, and touched everything belonging to them, tosee what it could be made of, the old woman moved quietly towards thedoor. She shut it with a bang, however, and roused them up with astart--excepting Grant, who slept through everything, and in spite ofeverything.

  They were just dropping off again when the old woman returned. She hadforgotten something, and was moving across the floor, when sheaccidentally knocked over a bench, which upset a heavy stool. The crashwas followed by a scream of alarm, and once more the sleepers wereawakened--always excepting Grant. Scarcely had this happened when astrange sound was heard outside. It gradually became louder and morealarming.

  "What _can_ it be?" cried Fred, leaping out of bed, and rushing to thedoor. As he threw it open, there was a roar like the sudden dischargeof artillery, and at the same moment a huge mass of rock, many tons inweight, bounded close past the door, went crashing through a wooden shedas if it had been a sheet of paper, and, carrying shrubs and small treesalong with it, finally found a resting-place at the bottom of the glen.The huge mass had fallen from the cliffs above, and fortunately sweptthrough the hamlet without doing further damage. It was followed by ashower of smaller stones, some of which struck and shook the house, andproduced a commotion that caused even Grant to wake up and run out inalarm.

  The whole valley was covered with rocks of every shape and size, whichhad at various times fallen from the cliffs on either side; and onecould not look at them without wondering that the little cluster of hutshad not long ago been destroyed. There are many such scenes in Norway,and accidents do sometimes occur, but not so frequently as one mightexpect.

  It is needless to say that our travellers did not again court sleep inthat wild spot. Before another hour had passed they were over themountains and far away on their journey to the far north.