"No port to-day," said Dave; and he was right. To run close to the Norwegian coast in such a high wind, and with so much snow flying, was dangerous, and they had to remain for twenty-four hours longer at the entrance to Christiania Fjord—fjord being the local name for bay.
But at last the snow stopped coming down and the wind subsided a little, and the steamer headed up the bay to Dröbak, located on the east shore of the harbor. Here there was a good deal of floating ice, and plowing among it were vessels of all kinds and sizes, all covered with ice and snow.
"It's wintry enough up here, goodness knows," remarked Roger. "I wonder how far north Christiania is?"
"I was looking it up on the map," answered Dave. "It is located about sixty degrees north, which is just about the latitude of the lower coast of Greenland."
"What, as far north as that! No wonder it is cold."
"Don't forget, Roger, that Norway is the Land of the Midnight Sun. At the far north they have a night lasting about three months."
"Well, I don't want such a night as that, just yet."
"No—you might do too much sleep-walking," and Dave grinned.
"Oh, cut that out!" and the face of the senator's son grew red.
"I shan't mention it again."