Svenska Folk-visor.
The whole party found their quarters in the Soberud valley so extremely comfortable, and the game so very abundant, that they were readily induced to prolong their stay; and the Parson struck up quite a friendship with the worthy Pfarrherr, and talked theology with the Candidatus. Torkel, who had had long, and, apparently, very interesting conversations with old Torgenson, the import of which did not transpire, had asked a temporary leave of absence, which was readily granted—the Parson having, no doubt, his own suspicions from what he saw at the sœter, but prudently holding his tongue about them. Indeed, he was no loser; for Torkel’s place, in every respect, except as an interpreter, was amply supplied by Karl Torgenson, who, having served his time of drill, had been just discharged from the corvette Freya, and had arrived, somewhat unexpectedly, on the Sunday evening. Karl spoke a little English, though not enough for conversation; but, on the other hand, he was as good a sportsman as Torkel himself, and much better acquainted with the localities of his own home.
Under his guidance, the Parson’s flies lured many a trout from the blue waters of the lake; but the best fish—such fish, indeed, as he had never before seen—were caught by a discovery of his own.
The lake lying in a broad valley, many of its shores were shelving and sandy, or slightly muddy, instead of plumping down in rocky sublacustrine precipices, and all these shallows were fringed with weeds. Coming home late in the evening, he saw a number of children in the water, ladling out, with tins and buckets, and vessels of every description, hundreds and thousands of little white glittering fish, which were feeding on the weed. These were the young of the fresh-water herring, which, whenever they can get them, which is not often, the Norwegians make into soup. The full-grown fish are not taken till later in the year, and this is never done except by nets, for they will rise at no bait of any kind big enough to put on a hook.
The Parson was looking at the little glittering things as they sparkled in the moonlight,—and no fish is so brilliantly white as the fresh-water herring,—when, amid the shouts and screams of the children, a huge trout was tumbled on shore out of one of the buckets. “O! by George!” said the Parson to Karl Torgenson, who smiled as if he understood every word, “that is worth noting; that fellow came to make his supper off the herrings, and having ventured in too far, has got entangled in the weeds. There will be some of his great relations come to supper, also, for certain. Let us try.”
A light fly-rod, such as the Parson carried, was not the weapon best adapted for the purpose; but he forthwith unlooped his casting-line, and taking a trace out of his fly-book—for he was never without trolling materials—fitted one of the little glittering gwineads on the litch; and wading quite as deep as was prudent, and a good deal deeper than was pleasant, considering the time of night and the coldness of Norwegian waters, he cast beyond the edge of the weeds; the bait had hardly began to spin, when a fish took him, such as required all his skill to master with his fly-rod, and long and arduous was the struggle before he succeeded in leading him captive through an opening in the weeds, and drawing him quietly into shoal water.
The fact was, that the whole coast, like that of France during the late war, was in a state of strict blockade; the little gwineads, like the chasse-marées, were dodging about in-shore, while the great trout, unable, from their draught of water, to pursue them into the shallows, were grimly cruising about and snapping up any adventurous little youngster that showed his nose outside. The fly-rod was too feeble to do much execution that evening, for it took half an hour to master a fish with it; but the discovery was not lost on the Parson, and the next evening saw him with a twenty-two foot cane trolling-rod, commanding, at easy cast, the whole fishable water, and supplying the præstgaard, as well as the hall, with such trout as they had never dreamt of.
The Captain and Birger were no less assiduous in their own particular calling, and from the quantity of game, including deer, which they brought in, might very fairly be said to have paid for their keep. The fjeld of Soberud was much more open, and better adapted for game, than the valley of the Torjedahl and its surrounding mountains, and also, as there were fewer thick trees, better adapted for getting at it.
Pleasant as all this was, time wore on, and it became necessary for the party to resume their knapsacks and retrace their steps, Torgensen having first exacted a promise that they would visit Soberud once more before their departure. “Perhaps,” said he, mysteriously, “I may have occasion to muster all the friends of my house before the winter comes on, and whenever that occasion happens, I hope the present party will honour my roof-tree.”
Tom, who interpreted this speech, could not conceive what it alluded to, though it seemed to make him very merry; but the mystery, if ever there was one, was soon explained by Lota’s blushes, when the Captain, on seeing her and the missing Torkel together, as the party arrived at the Aalfjer sœter that evening, shook his head at them with a knowing smile. In fact, Torkel had made such excellent use of his time, that while the party were occupied with the fish and game of the Soberud valley, he had contrived to settle, and definitely arrange, with the full approbation of Torgensen, that his marriage should take place in the autumn. No Norwegian ever thinks of marrying till the work-day summer is past; besides, Torkel was making a very good thing of it with his present employers, and if he were not, it is not altogether certain that even Lota’s attractions would have been sufficient to draw him away from the sports in which he was engaged. Apparently, he did not find those things which he had to settle with Lota herself, so easy of arrangement as those which had been the subject of his discussions with her father; for though the first Sunday evening was quite long enough to settle everything with him, it took him three or four whole days at the sœter to arrange matters with her; indeed, there the party found him when they encamped there on their return, and, notwithstanding this, he had so much more to say on the last morning, that the fishermen had arrived for some hours at their old encampment on the Torjedahl, and had had time entirely to change the whole plan of the campaign before they saw anything of him.