CHAPTER XX.

A FORMAL CALL.

_August 17._--This was the day appointed for our visit to the Thomas's at Rus Vand, but though we told Öla as usual to call us at 7.30, he never came until about half-past eight. His watch is a curiosity among bad watches; he sets it by one of ours every night, and it has always gained or lost several hours before morning: on one occasion it actually lost nearly a fortnight while we slept. The Skipper says it 'ain't worth a smothered oath;' and this morning, as we specially wished to get up early--and did get up, owing to Öla's watch, more than usually late--he is getting lower in his valuation, and estimates it at a 'whispered d----.'

We have begged Öla to pawn it, or refrain from winding it up, but without effect, and Esau lent him his--which has never moved since its bath, and is fixed at 5.20. This was very successful for two days, as it made Öla call us about six o'clock, and we had lots of time to go to sleep again afterwards; but after that the discontented fellow came and asked for one that would go faster, and of course we have nothing that will compare with his own either at trotting or cantering.

First thing this morning the Skipper was seen shaving his meagre chin with no little care, and reflecting himself with considerable interest in a slip of looking-glass that he keeps under his pillow. We all made elaborate toilets, but the Skipper was especially beautiful by reason of his necktie, and the least thread-bare of his two coats, which he wore with what he considered a careless grace.

We started up the mountain at half-past ten, and arrived on the shores of Rus Vand very hot and tired in about two hours. There we saw a dim speck on the distant horizon which we imagined to be the boat coming to take us down the lake. So we began to fish till it should arrive; and it was a considerable time before we realised the fact that the speck we had seen was indeed the boat, but it was _going_, not coming, for the soulless wretch who had control of it had presumed to think, and his thoughts being of course the mere unreasoning impulses of a brutish and degraded mind, had caused him to suppose we were not coming. This was a terrible blow, but at last we bravely decided to walk on to the hut--about eight miles. During the next six pages of this book we walked and walked and walked, with hunger and thirst raging inside us, a broiling sun over our heads, and the most frightful language proceeding from our lips; tramping along cattle tracks, wading through mountain torrents, and stumbling over willows and rocks, till about half-past three in the afternoon, when turning the last corner we came on the two huts, and our olfactory nerves were greeted by the welcome scent of adjacent cooking food.

Thomas was most profuse in his maledictions of the idiot who had left the west end of the lake without waiting for us, and we had great difficulty in persuading him not to shed his blood there and then. Thus far the misery.

But now a change came o'er the scene. Behold the wearied travellers lying on the sward, in the cool shadow cast by the hut; surrounded by iced whisky punch, brandy and water, rum and milk, and claret, and drinking them all at once under the entreaties of our hospitable entertainers. Anon a sumptuous feast was spread under the canopy of a tent pitched just above the roaring waters of the Russen River where it leaves the calm of the lake for the turmoil and trouble of a hurried descent to busier regions. That trout, reindeer, roast ryper, and the various smaller birds will be remembered by all of us as long as we live.

The Skipper confessed afterwards that all along that burning shadeless cattle track--with its atmosphere perfectly blue with execrations--he had thought that life was but a 'wale of tears' at the best of times; but when after dinner cigars and black coffee were produced, he began to believe we had had rather a pleasant walk after all.

We left the hospitable hut about six, in the boat, Thomas himself and Jens coming with us. Jens rowed, and we four fished all the way up the lake, so that the water was stiff with minnows and flies. John with a minnow caught one three-pound trout and some smaller ones, and the Skipper and Esau several good fish with the fly, but we had no time to really try to catch fish, but kept rowing steadily on and getting what we could on the way. Thomas got out halfway up the lake to fish from the bank, and John at once trampled on a spare rod which had been brought in the boat, and reduced it to matchwood. Then to witness John's polite protestations and apologies from the boat to Mr. Thomas on shore was truly gratifying to us as spectators. When they were concluded we rowed on to the end of the lake, climbed over the dreadful mountain--which was by no means a pleasant task in the dark--and reached camp at half-past ten--just twelve hours employed in making a formal call. Think of that, ye gentlemen of England who grumble at having to leave a card on the people the other side of the square.

_August 18._--We all stayed at home to-day, as the weather--although still perfectly fine--was not favourable for any sort of sport with which we are acquainted except kite-flying; and the tent was constantly in such imminent danger of being blown from its moorings, that we feared if we went away, we should not be able to find it when we came back. It was great fun during breakfast to watch Ivar sailing after our goods and chattels whenever a sudden gust of wind sent them scudding over the ground till brought to a standstill by a juniper or a rock. Before starting in pursuit he always opened his mouth to its utmost width--which is enormous--and then extending his arms and legs till he looked like a demoniac wind-mill, he swooped down on the quarry, never failing to secure the fly-away article, dish-cloth, or towel, or whatever it might be.

The Skipper was the only one who attempted fishing, and he had but poor sport, and soon returned to camp to assist in the operations there going on. The most important of these was the construction of a new game cellar in the ground near the old one. Esau was 'bossing' this thing, while Öla worked. Esau, being very lazy himself, takes a fiendish delight in getting any work out of Öla; and now his portion of the job seemed to be standing with an axe in his hand revolving things in his great mind while Öla undertook the labour. The Skipper and John devoted themselves to baking, and produced an enormous quantity of bread and biscuits; and when these were finished the united strength of the company engaged itself on a meat pie.

The division of labour in this enterprise is always managed thus. Esau is butcher--an employment in which he revels, and at which he is decidedly an adept. He cuts up reindeer in convenient slices for placing in the pie-dish; adding thereto slices of bacon, and two or three hard-boiled eggs, with some liver, heart, and birds if we have any to spare. Meanwhile the Skipper concocts the dough for the crust from flour, butter, and boiling water; and after rolling the same on the top of one of the boxes with an empty beer-bottle, neatly lines the smaller of the two low tins with it; fills it with the various ingredients and plenty of pepper, salt, and some water, and then covers it with a thin disc of paste perforated with holes, and adorned with fantastic images of reindeer and birds. Now the pie is ready for the oven--which all this time John has been stoking indefatigably with arm loads of wood; and when he announces that the oven is fit the pie is borne in solemn procession to it, and safely enclosed by the sod which acts as the oven door, and conceals it from our gaze for a time, which varies according to the size of the pie and heat of the oven.

We have some difficulties to contend with in the top of our oven, for the sods which fill in the holes thereof are liable to crumble with the intense heat and fall down in fine dust on our food gently stewing in its cosy nest. The only way to obviate this is to water the top of the oven every morning as if it were a spring garden, and then the clods never get dry enough to play their evil little games. The Skipper compares the baking of a pie to burial by cremation (if that is not a bull). Certainly it always comes out etherealised; a thing of beauty and a joy for at least two days. Esau called this pie after its resurrection 'a harmony in yellow and brown quite too too utter and distinctly precious;' and John added, 'Begorra, me jewel, it is that same, bedad.'

We shall now be free to do what seems good in our eyes for several days without the trouble of baking: altogether our stock of provisions is enormous. This is always the way in camp life; first a week of existence on the verge of starvation, and then a time of milk and honey and tables overflowing with plenty.

_August 19._--Some of the bread that John makes is rather heavy. Yesterday we were constrained to point this fact out to him. He pretended not to be able to see it, and in support of his theory ate at supper a quantity of the rolls that we had condemned. The consequence was that about two o'clock A.M. we were roused from our peaceful slumbers by John jumping spasmodically out of bed and rushing to the tent door, uttering at the same time most ghastly yells. At the door he appeared to be awake, so we said, sitting up in bed with our hair on end,--

'_Now_ then, John. What's the row?' To which he answered very quietly,--

'Why, my line's caught on that rock over there. I wish you would stop the boat a minute.'

Then he went gently to bed again and continued his unbroken slumbers.

A sleeping man is selfishly regardless of the disquiet he brings on his fellow-creatures, and John, although he must have dreamt all sorts of funny things, did not dream that he was disturbing our night's rest.

The other night when we were returning from our visit to Rus Vand, John casually seated himself on a rock at the extreme top of the mountain. It was quite dark except for a subdued glow of light caused by the setting moon behind the mountains on the other side of Gjendin Lake. Now the Skipper and Esau take a good deal of interest in moons, because they are considerably affected by the pallid luminary when at the full; consequently they were aware that she had already passed her highest point for that night, and would not show above the peaks until the following evening; but John did not know this, and so when we asked his reason for sitting down on a very sharp and cold stone 5,000 feet above sea level, with the quicksilver right through the bottom of the thermometer, at a time when all honest folk were in bed, he replied,--

'You fellows go on; I'm going to wait here and see the moon rise.'

We never disturb a man when he feels poetical, lest it should break out in some more dangerous form; so we left him on his 'cold grey stone,' and made the best of our way to camp.

When we had about half finished our soup, he came struggling and wading in through the shrubs and swamp, and sat down to supper without making any remarks about the scenery, neither did he touch upon the subject of silver shafts, or shimmering sheen, or a network of frosted filigree chaining down the ripples. He was evidently disappointed about something, and we possessed too much delicacy of feeling to ask what was wrong, and so the matter dropped. But at breakfast this morning the Skipper happened to tell a story about a man he knew, who waited on the quay for some friends who had arrived in a steamer that day. This man had ordered a sumptuous banquet directly the steamer was signalled, then waited three hours expecting a boat to come off every minute, but at last perceived that a curious flag was flying on the steamer, and on inquiry found that she was quarantined for a fortnight. Then Esau could not resist the opportunity, and remarked,--

'Just like waiting for the moon to rise when she ain't due over the mountains for twenty-four hours,' and the harmony of the meeting at once ceased to exist.

The Skipper went after deer, but only had a very long walk without seeing any. We have now got the kitchen into a great state of perfection, so that within ten minutes of his return a recherché repast was on the table. This is rather a difficult thing to manage, as we never know to within a couple of hours what time the hunters will return; but it can be done by having the chops, steaks, or birds ready in one frying-pan, the trout in the other, the potatoes partially cooked, and the tea or coffee made: the leaves or grounds of the latter we remove always after eight minutes' brewing, so that it does not alter by standing. The table of course is ready laid.

Once and only once there was a long delay, owing to a misfortune with the water that had been boiled for the tea; but the explosion of wrath from the famishing hunter on that occasion was so dreadful, that the utmost endeavours have since been successfully used to prevent its recurrence.

MENU.--August 19.

_Potage._ Mulligatawny.

_Poisson._ Truité à la Maître d'Hôtel.

_Entrées._ Venison Pie.

_Rots._ Venison Pie.

_Gibier._ Venison Pie.

_Entremets._ Pancakes.

Our procedure with pancakes is for every man to fry and toss his own; the frying of the first side is easy enough, but the tossing requires skill, for we do not allow the mean practice of helping the delicacy over with a knife, indulged in by some weak-spirited cooks.

John's first became a mangled heap of batter under his repeated efforts, and was finally eaten by him in that condition; his second ascended towards the heavens most gracefully when he tossed, and was absent for some minutes, but unfortunately he failed to hold the pan in the right place on its return, and it fell on the ground, where it was immediately seized and devoured by Ivar. The third was a complete success, and so were the fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh; the eighth stuck to the pan, and was a failure; and after that he got along all right to the thirty-fourth, when he had another partial failure, owing to over-confidence. This made him more careful, and all the rest were quite perfect. When we had finished we gave the rest of the batter to the men, who fried it all in one huge pancake, about two inches thick.

We notice that all the diaries agree for once; the following note occurs in all:--

'Pancakes for dinner to-day; the other two fellows over-ate themselves.'

We told John this morning of his adventure with the boat and fishing line during the night, so he ate all the new bread at lunch, thereby laying its restless spirit long before bedtime; no doubt he and his dinner will slumber more peacefully to-night.

It may be remembered that we brought a lot of fish slightly salted with us from Gjendesheim. Ever since our return here we have caught plenty of fish every day, and as we prefer fresh food to salt, the Gjendesheim fish which were placed in a little barrel have been neglected. Five or six days ago we noticed an unpleasant odour, and found that it proceeded from this barrel, the fish being in an advanced stage of decomposition, and the men told us they were making 'raki fiske,' a thing which they informed us in Norwegian is 'real jam.' We were very angry, and gave orders that the whole thing should at once be thrown into the glacier torrent. After this the affair faded from our minds, but yesterday we again noticed a suspicion of the same smell, and this morning it was so powerful that we began to invent theories to account for it.

John, who is a man of great scientific attainments proved to his own complete satisfaction, that it proceeded from the bodies of prehistoric reindeer which had been engulfed by an avalanche ages ago and entombed in the glacier until now, when at last their decaying corpses were being washed down the stream.

He said Huxley had often observed the same thing and told him about it.

Esau's theory was that the glacier itself was decomposing. 'Look what a long time it had been standing exposed to the air, and most likely in a damp place; everybody knew that snow water was not good to drink, witness the goître of Switzerland; and why was it not good? Simply because it was putrid, and now that the hot sun was shining upon it, no wonder it smelt a little.'

He concluded his remarks by inquiring who Huxley might be, and was just setting off up the valley with a bottle of Condy's fluid to pour over the glacier, when the Skipper, who had wandered down to the Memurua River instead of arguing, suddenly rushed back with his fingers tightly holding his nose, and shaking his fist at Öla, said something that began with 'Dab,' and went on with other unknown words.

At last we gathered from his expressions that the barrel of 'raki fiske' had not been thrown into the torrent at all, but our villanous retainers had secreted it near the stream, intending to have a feast as soon as it should have become rotten enough to please their cultivated taste. Truly a Norwegian has the nastiest notions of food. Now the 'raki fiske,' barrel and all, is buried a yard deep, a long way from here, and life is again pleasant, but we have little doubt that Öla and Ivar will come back and root about and dig it up after we have left the country say a month hence: it ought to be in perfect condition by that time.