He was not very communicative, however, for he could not speak English, and would not understand Norwegian; but, at all events, they learnt to their comfort that the post was there still, and, after ten minutes sharp pull up a steep but very open and practicable pass, they came in sight of the Captain’s watch-fires, situated in the gorge of it.
“Home at last!” said the Parson.
“And high time, too,” said the Captain. “There, pick those wretched flowers out of that hat of yours, and let us see whether we cannot make you look less like a drowned rat.”
“You have not broken up the skal, then?” said the Parson.
“Oh, no! nothing like it; the rain came on late in the evening, and they could not have broken it up then if they wished, for the men would not have had time to go home, and might just as well make themselves comfortable where they were.”
Comfortable! thought the Parson, shrugging his wet shoulders, and thinking of his own comforts during the night past.
“And this morning,” continued the Captain, “the weather-wise say that the rain will not last; and as they have driven so much of the country, and fairly disturbed the game, the Ofwer Jagmästere sent for some brandy—not enough to make the men drunk, but as much as is good for them,—and they are to keep their fires burning and make all the noise they can, and so keep the game within the ring till the weather clears.”
“And where did you hear all this?” said the Parson.
“Oh, Birger is here,” said the Captain; “he came in about two hours ago, as wet as you are; he is asleep in the other tent. Did you not see a row of barked bushes as you came up?”
“Yes,” said the Parson, “that I did, and I hailed them as the traveller did the gibbet,—the first mark of civilisation I had seen; but I cannot say that I understand what they mean.”