“Now then, I think we start by this ledge; light another of these pine-slips, Tom, and bring the whole bundle with you.”
The path was not altogether a safe one, certainly, for it was a narrow ledge, winding round the face of the cliff that formed the northern side of the pass, and leading to a sort of promontory which jutted forward somewhat in advance of the range; but there were plenty of branches to hold on by, and there was no real danger as long as there was light enough to see where to place the feet; and when they had got fairly out of the range of their own enormous fire, the stars were glimmering, and the night was not, after all, so very dark. A withered ash, the bare trunk of which stretched out horizontally, like a finger-post, from the extreme point, was their look-out, and bore the strip of calico, once white, but now sullied and dishonoured by twenty-four hours of continuous rain, which marked the position of their picket.
The look-out commanded completely the position of the hållet, the encampment of which was placed among some straggling copse that feathered the reverse slope of the spur of rock which connected the range of hills with the rapids and falls of the river. Among this bushwood were scattered, irregularly, the cooking and sleeping fires, glancing every now and then on the huts of boughs and other temporary shelter which had been run up to protect the men from the wet, while, on the bare crest of the spur, which had been entirely denuded of what little timber it possessed, was a line of fifty watch-fires, one to each skalfogde’s command; each of these had its stoker, who from time to time replenished its blaze with fresh logs,—and its sentry, who, sitting or lying in some dark recess, was to fire at everything that came within the circle of the light. Everything betokened extreme watchfulness; not a fire burnt dim,—black figures were continually passing and repassing before them,—and every now and then a straggling shot waked up the echoes, and kept the whole line in a state of continual agitation.
The dref, which had advanced a little during the day, was still five or six miles off, and their fires, which formed a vast semicircle, were, for the most part, hidden by the trees; but a hazy and continuous line of misty light defined the whole position, tinging the very sky with redness, so that the receding skirts of the mist looked luminous, like a terrestrial aurora borealis.
While they yet gazed, the tree tops, which, beyond the reflection of the fires, had hitherto been one unbroken sea of blackness, came gradually into view: first the spiry tops of the firs, then the rounder and softer outlines of the birch and ash, grew more and more defined; then the character of the foliage became distinguishable,—the glaucous white of the poplar and the fringiness of the ash and rowan: then a soft pale light, interspersed with deep broad shadows, was cast over the scene, slightly dimming the glow of the watch-fires, and contrasting strangely with their yellow light; and then the half moon rose up from the cliffs behind them, illuminating the distant landscape, but bringing that immediately beneath their feet into blacker and darker shade.
“Your friend Bjornstjerna is a plucky fellow,—that I will say for him; most men would have turned tail at such a drench of rain as we have had; and now virtue promises to be its own reward—we shall have a glorious day to-morrow.”
“I think we shall,” said Birger,—“indeed, I am sure we shall, as far as the weather is concerned; but I am afraid that will not prevent us from suffering some loss by what we have had already. You may depend on it every beast within our circle has gone the rounds and tried the weak points of it,—some have escaped, at all events. The wolves last night, and the stags just now, have forced the passage with very little loss; and certainly ours is not the most unguarded spot in the line.”
“By George! Birger! that shot is from our post!”
“Not a doubt of that;—and there’s another! Wait a bit, it may be nothing after all.”