CHAPTER XIX.

GJENDEBODEN.

_Sunday, August 15._--Still the same beautiful weather. We spent the morning fishing and bathing. Esau distinguished himself by falling into the lake off a cliff, just as he had finished dressing after a bath; nearly swamping his canoe, full of fish, rugs, and other valuables. There was such a sun that he merely hung his things on the rocks and went on fishing without them until they were dry, which took a very short time. He always had savage tendencies, and would like to live without clothes, but we consider this is not dignified, and will not tend to promote discipline among our retainers. The Skipper got the best bag, as he generally does on a calm day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_August 16._--After breakfast we found a drover, who was living in a hut here, and impressed him to come out with us after Ryper--his function being that of the dog. There are many of these drovers in the mountains during the summer. They get cattle--how, we do not know; whether they buy them, or merely drive them on commission for the owners; then they feed them on the common lands, and drive them to some town at the end of the summer. The huts that they live in are wretched little places. There is one about two miles from our camp, built of rough stones against a rock which forms two of the sides, without any door or window, and only a hole to creep in at. No Englishman would keep his dog in such a place, unless it were dead; but we are told that a drover lived there for a month this year before we came, and it is considered of sufficient importance to be marked on the Ordnance map, otherwise we should never have seen it.

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

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

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

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

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