Far in the distance, indeed too far to be seen, except where the sun lighted up its waters and returned a dazzling reflection, was the river, already guarded by its fleet of boats, though these were entirely invisible from the cliffs.
To the southward, the range of heights sank gradually into the plain, which here was traversed by the main road, cutting both the ridge and the river at right angles.
Beyond this, all was one black, dreary, desolate wilderness, without a shrub, or a bush, or a blade of grass; nothing but bare, grey, ghost-like trunks of dead trees, stretching forth their charred and blackened branches, and looking as if a curse was resting on them. Three years ago that blackened track had been a flourishing pine forest, but the fire had passed over it, and it was gone. According to a generally received Swedish superstition, though the birch might succeed it, no pine could grow there again for ever: the burnt tree had been cursed in itself and in its seed.
This superstition is actually borne out by fact: cut a pine-forest, and a pine-forest succeeds it; burn a pine-forest, and the succeeding trees, when they do again clothe the ground, are invariably birch. In reality, this is not so strange as it seems at first sight; the fir is the natural seed of the country, and the young fir is the hardiest tree,—wherever that tree will grow no other can compete with it; but its seed is heavy, and cannot fall far from the parent tree, when once vegetation is destroyed,—the fir-seed can never travel into the wasted land; but the birch-seed flies in the wind, and its young seedlings are invariably the first green which succeeds a fire.
This black wilderness was one cause among many which had induced the Jagmästere to select this particular spot for his skal; no game would willingly break through his line when they knew that miles of uncovered country must be traversed before they could again find shelter. He had, therefore, that morning marshalled his dref along the high road, by placing them in position there, and numbering their hats as they stood, from the centre to each flank; but, true to his word, no sooner had the white flag fluttered from Birger’s post, than his bugle sounded the advance along his whole line, and the skal was already begun.
The Parson and Birger, whose work for that morning was done, were seated on the outer ridge, with their feet fairly overhanging the precipice, reconnoitring with their glasses the progress of the dref, as here and there the men emerged into a more open space, which the skalfogdar were taking advantage of, in order to reform or repair their line, and re-establish their communications with the parties right and left of them.
Every now and then a sudden shout, followed by half-a-dozen shots, marking the place by a light puff of smoke, (Swedish powder makes plenty of that), would point the glasses to some particular spot,—but on no occasion was any game visible from above.
According to law, all shouting is strictly forbidden in skals, and so is firing at small game, and so is the presence of women or boys, upon the express count that they are too noisy; but these laws seem to have been made for no other purpose except that the people might enjoy the pleasure of hunting and breaking the law at the same time, for no one ever thinks of keeping them; shouting is incessant, women are plentiful, and, as for shooting at small game, the best chance a cock-robin stands of his life consists in the very great probability of a Swedish piece missing fire, or a Swedish marksman missing his aim.
And, indeed, it is universally admitted by the moderns that their forefathers were in error; that not only shouts and musketry are useful in keeping up the men’s pluck and pointing out to each other their whereabouts, but they are positively of advantage in driving the game. When the ring is once completed, either by artificial or natural means, and the game is fairly surrounded, it is far better that it should be aroused by distant shouts, and should be suffered to slink off quietly and unseen, approaching by degrees the hållet, where, after all, it must be brought up by the standing line, than that it should be surprised by the dref advancing in silence. A startled bear is just as likely to bolt backwards as forwards, and, if he does, the chances are that he gets off scot free. He must be an unlucky bear, indeed, who, at the earlier part of a skal, and before the men have closed in, charges the line and gets more than one shot at him; and a most particularly unlucky bear must he be if that shot takes effect, whereas it is just as likely to take effect on some Jan or Karl, who stands with his eyes and mouth open as the “Disturber” rushes by,—and thus affords, in his own person, the only chance of a sitting shot, which Swedes delight in;—indeed, this is almost the only way in which accidents do happen in skals; the bear very seldom revenges himself, but he now and then gets people to do it for him.
The Parson sat reclining against a rock, very much at his ease, sometimes watching the progress of the skal, sometimes picking off the stalks from a quantity of ground-mulberries[50] which he had gathered during that morning’s march. Indeed, the Parson, in the course of that march, had succeeded in making a very pretty figure of himself: his knowledge of botany amounted simply to a desire of appropriating to himself every unusual flower he came across; so that by the end of the day his hat, which was of that description popularly known as a wide-awake, was generally surrounded by a garland fit for a May-queen.