Englishmen might have felt dull and heavy after the consumption of such enormous quantities of brandy: English heads might have ached, and English hands might have felt shaky during the operation of getting sober. Thor himself could not have risen from the challenge cup, set before him by Loki Utgard, with more complete self-possession than did Tom and Torkel, and the mighty Jacob. Sleep and drink had fled with the shades of night, and it was a steady hand that served out the coffee that morning.
The party had long separated to their respective pursuits, for the impatience of the fishermen and the actual dearth of provisions in the camp did not allow of idling.
Towards noon the breeze had entirely sunk, and the sun, having succeeded in dispelling the clouds, was shining in its summer strength into the confined valley, concentrating its rays from the encircling rocks upon the channel of the river, and pouring them on the encampment as on the focus of a burning-glass.
It was not, however, a depressing, moist, stewing heat; there was a lightness and elasticity in the air unknown in southern climes, or if known at all, known only on the higher Alps, and in the middle of the summer. Men felt the heat, no doubt, and the thermometer indicated a high degree of temperature; but there was nothing in it enervating, nothing predisposing to slothfulness or inaction; on the contrary, the nerves seemed braced under it, and the spirits buoyant. Work and exercise were a pleasure, not a toil; and if the Parson did stretch himself out under the shade of the great birch tree, it was the natural result of a well-spent morning of downright hard work. Wielding a flail is a trifle compared to wielding a salmon rod; and he and the Captain had, both of them, wielded it that morning to some purpose, for the salmon had not been unmindful of the soft breeze and the cloudy skies, but had risen to the fly with appetites truly Norwegian.
Jacob and Torkel, with one of the boatmen in the distance, were up to their eyes in salt and blood, cleaning, splitting, salting, and otherwise preparing the spare fish for a three days’ sojourn in the smoking-house; while three or four bright-looking fresh run salmon, selected from the heap, and ready crimped for the kettle or toasting skewers, were glittering from under the green and constantly-wetted branches, with which they were protected from the heat of the day.
Birger, who was much more at home with his gun than with his fishing-rod, had gone out that morning early, attended by his two men, in order to reconnoitre the country, and see what its capabilities were; for the Parson’s report had been confined to its excellencies as a fishing station. The Captain was still on the river; every now and then distant glimpses of his boat could be seen as he shifted from throw to throw, and occasionally condescended even to harl the river, by way of resting his arms. Such a fishing morning as they had enjoyed, is not often to be met with, and the Captain would not take the hint which the cloudless sun had been giving him for the last half-hour.
The Parson, whose rod was pitched in a neighbouring juniper, and whose fly, a sober dark-green, as big as a bird, floated out faintly in the expiring breeze, was stretched at full length on the turf, occupied, so far as a tired man who is resting himself can be said to be occupied at all, in watching the motions of a little red-headed woodpecker, that was darting from branch to branch and from tree to tree, making the forest ring again with its sharp succession of taps, as it drove the insects out of their hiding-places beneath the outside bark. Taps they were, no doubt, and given by the bird’s beak, too, but by no means like the distinct and deliberate tap of the yellow woodpecker, every one of which may be counted: so rapid were they, that they sounded more like the scrooping of a branch torn violently from the tree, and so loud, that it was difficult to conceive that such a sound could be caused by a bird comparatively so diminutive.
The woodpecker, which seemed almost tame and by no means disconcerted by the presence of strangers, pursued its occupation with the utmost confidence, though quite within reach of the Parson’s rod.
“Take care,” said the Parson, as Torkel approached, “do not disturb it.”