Shortly afterwards we passed a large house near the roadside, which appeared to be a gjœstgiver gaard. The people came out to look at us. Noticing some articles for sale in the window, we sent Noah back with some money, and he soon after returned with ten loaves of bread, and a pound and a half of butter, for which he paid four marks and a half. Noah said he bought all the bread they had. We were so well pleased with the acquisition, that, finding it was a general shop, Zachariah was sent back to replace his dilapidated hat with a new wide-a-wake, which cost us one dollar. When we examined the hat on his return, we read within it the well-known English name of Christy. Noah and Zachariah had each invested in a handkerchief; Noah’s consisted of four pictures of the loudest pattern. Noah’s commercial transactions had also extended to a pipe and tobacco, and he appeared smoking it to the disgust of the rest of the party. Indications of coming rain caused us to arrange the waterproofs over our baggage. Several people came up to look at our donkeys.
The bread being packed safely away, we again pushed on, and entered a wild, thick forest at the foot of some steep rocky hills. The River Logan was not far to our left. Taking the first opportunity, we now told Noah that it was contrary to the rules of our camp to smoke, and that he must at once give up his pipe and tobacco.
“No, no, sir,” said Noah, in a melancholy tone, “I must have some tobacco.”
“Well, Noah,” we replied, “we must have our wish, we have always done what we could for you, and we expect some sacrifice in return.”
Esmeralda and Zachariah joined in the request.
A slight cloud passed over Noah’s look as he dropped behind. We must, however, do him the justice to say that his temper was excellent. Noah was ever cheerful under the greatest difficulties.
As we quietly journeyed through the forest, how delightful its scenes. Free from all care, we enjoy the anticipation of a long and pleasant ramble in Norway’s happy land. We felt contented with all things, and thankful that we should be so permitted to roam, with our tents and wild children of nature in keeping with the solitudes we sought. So we travelled onwards towards Holmen. The rain had soon ceased. Tinkle, tinkle went the hawk-bells on the collar of our Puru Rawnee, as she led the way along the romantic Norwegian road.
“Give the snakes and toads a twist,
And banish them for ever,”
sang Zachariah, ever and anon giving similar wild snatches. Then Esmeralda would rocker about being the wife of the Romany Rye, and as she proudly paced along in her heavy boots, she pictured, in painful imagery, the pleasant life we should lead as her Romany mouche. She was full of fun: yet there was nothing in her fanciful delineations which could offend us. They were but the foam of the crested wave, soon dissipated in air. They were the evanescent creations of a lively, open-hearted girl. Wild notes trilled by the bird of the forest. We came again into the open valley. Down a meadow gushed a small streamlet, which splashed from a wooden spout on to the road-side below. From a log cottage in the meadow above, a man quickly crawled down the steep bank, like a spider along in his web. He took his station on the bank near the streamlet’s falling water. The man was pale and wan, and begged for alms. He seemed to have no use in his legs. Could we refuse? We who roamed free as the birds of the air. We gave him some skillings. The man seemed very thankful, and we soon after saw him crawling slowly up to his small wooden cottage, from whence he commanded a view of the road. Now we came near the river-side, and pushed along to find a camping ground. We had again forest on either side. The river was near, and on the hills of the narrow valley we could see many farms. At last we decided to camp on a rise of ground above the road: an open woodland, on the edge of the thick forest, which covered the hill above. The road wall was broken down in one place, giving passage for the donkeys, after we had unloaded them. Our things were hoisted up, and soon carried to a pleasant slope, partly secluded with scattered brushwood and trees, having a view of the road, river, and lofty hills on the opposite side of the valley. The rain commenced as we were pitching our tents. The first losses we discovered were our two caps and guard, with a carved fish at the end of it, and the green veil in which they were wrapped. It was provoking. They must have been left on the roadside when we halted near the house where we bought the ten loaves of bread; probably near Gillebo or Skardsmoen. They were of black felt, and we were now left with only the straw hat we then wore.
Our tents had not been long pitched, and our fire made, when a tall, pale man came to us from the road. He carried a wallet; had a walking-stick in his hand, and we understood him to say he was going to Romsdalen. He seemed much interested with our tents, and accepted some brandy and tobacco. The spot where our tents were pitched was near a sort of small natural terrace, at the summit of a steep slope above the road, backed by a mossy bank, shaded by brushwood, and skirting the dense foliage of the dark forest of pine and fir rising above our camp. We had tea and bread, and our Australian meat, which was excellent. The clouds gathered darkly over the mountains, and there were some heavy showers. More visitors came in succession; some had brandy. Their attention seemed divided between the tents and donkeys. At length the rain probably prevented more from coming.
In the course of the afternoon, when we got into camp, Noah came and said, “I think, sir, instead of buying tobacco, I had much better have put the money by to get me a pair of stockings.” We asked how much he gave, and he said half a mark. “Then, Noah, give up the pipe and tobacco, and you shall have the half-mark.” Our gipsy came soon after. He had evidently made up his mind.