“And why didn’t he do so?” said Esmeralda, sharply. “Nobody stirred; I might have drowned over and over again for what they cared.”
“Well, daughter, we were just agoin’ in,” said Noah, with a grim smile.
“Going!” shouted Esmeralda; “go to Gorsley, and see Lizzy. Ambrose can do it; can’t he? What a state he makes himself over everybody else.”
Now Noah was up. Esmeralda, by her allusion to Gorsley, had hit Noah in some vulnerable place.
The pretty little donkey, which had done its best with a heavy load, and the addition of Esmeralda’s weight, was of course severely anathematized; but, strange to say, like the little jackdaw in the “Ingoldsby’s Legends,” it seemed “never a penny the worse.”
Indeed, Esmeralda was very angry; but at last she became more cheerful in proportion as her clothes became more dry. We were still in sight of the Leir Vand. There are no fish in it, or apparently in the Lera Elv. Kirken (Church) Mountain is extremely steep and picturesque. This view of Kirken (Church) Mountain, steep, dark, and escarpé, and of the Tverbottenhornene, the dark rocky mountain to the left, standing almost isolated and apart, as seen from a point of view in the Gravdal, we sketched during our mid-day halt.
KIRKEN MOUNTAIN, FROM GRAVDAL.
We were not far from the Lang Vand and Visdal. Ole said that four valleys commence near Church Mountain: Visdal, Leirdal (Clay Valley), Gjendindal and Gravdal (Valley of the Grave). Four rivers have also their source here: Visa Elv, Lera Elv, Gjendin Elv, Gravdal Elv. We had to ford several smaller streams, and our route lay over a wild, sterile, stony tract, among picturesque, sharp, peaky mountains. We could see the peaks of Uledals Tinderne, one of which was soon afterwards ascended by Messrs. Browne. Coming at length to a small lake, we distinctly saw on a glacier below a mountain called by Ole the Hogvarden Tind (Peak of the High Pass), a herd of about forty-five wild reindeer. We were not very far from them. Under the shelter of scattered rocks we could have had a still closer view. Ole regretted he had not brought a rifle. They might have been stalked easily. The sun was also in our favour. Although for some time we were in view of the reindeer, they did not notice us, and when we went out of sight the herd were still on the glacier. It was a beautiful sight as we watched them on the sloping snow. Descending down the valley, we called a halt at a large rock near a small mountain stream. We had accomplished a distance of about eight or nine miles. It was about twelve o’clock. Not far from where we halted runs Simledal (Hart’s Valley), and beyond us Ole pointed out the direction of the Raudal (Red Valley).
We were now in our element. How could we be unhappy in such picturesque scenes, pure nature, pure air, free existence? Even our gipsies were in keeping with the rough unhewn rocks and wild flowers of this unfrequented region. Just at this point of reflection Mephistopheles, who was boiling our can of water over a fire of heath roots and moss, called out in a melancholy screaming tone of voice, exactly imitating his sister at our camp the evening before, “Where’s the tea? Zachariah!! where’s the tea?” It was so true to tone and manner that, braving Esmeralda’s displeasure, even Ole joined in the laugh. All was immediately fun and merriment in our camp. Even Esmeralda deigned to laugh. The reindeer meat, boiled the day before, was fried with potatoes. This with tea formed an excellent meal—in fact, Ole said many in Lom never had such a dinner.