CHAPTER XX.
“There was a gipsy’s tent, close beside me, and a party of about ten of this wandering tribe were seated around a wood fire, which habit seemed to make them approach closely to, whether it was cold or hot weather.” Séñor Juan de Vega, the Spanish Minstrel of 1828-9.[55]
NOAH UNWELL—THE TINE—NEW SCENES—THE LEPER—HASTY DEPARTURE—LESJEVŒRKS VAND—WELL MET—AGREEABLE WANDERERS—SPECIALTY OF TRAVEL—DELICIOUS TROUT—LAKE SCENERY—NORWEGIAN POSTMAN—NIGHT VISITORS—MORE TOURISTS—MOLMEN CHURCH.
Immediately after our music had ceased, Noah was taken ill with severe rheumatism resulting from getting wet. Our services as the “Cushty Drabengro.” (Gip., “good doctor”) of the party were in requisition. He was sent to lie down in the tents, and we rubbed his back and body well with brandy, giving him a stiff glass of brandy-and-water to drink. All had retired to rest, but ourself. Hearing voices near our donkeys, we went up and found a number of peasants and peasant girls near them. We had an idea that they had been teasing them. Taking the peasants down to our tents they looked round our camp, and when we wished them good-night they left. It rained heavily as we went to sleep.
Much rain had fallen in the night. We looked out about seven o’clock on the morning of 13th of July; the rain had ceased, but misty clouds gathered thickly on the mountains. A fire was lighted, and Noah was better, and we made him rub some of our bruise mixture on his knee.
Noah promised never to go into the water again. As we were getting our breakfast, the farmer’s son passed with a wooden bottle of milk and a wooden “Tine.” This word is pronounced “Teena.” It is a small wooden oblong box with a slide lid used for carrying provisions. A box of this kind is in common use all over Norway. Some of them are curiously ornamented, according to the fancy of the possessor. For Frokost we had fried trout, fladbröd and butter, and tea. Two women came to our camp; one were men’s Wellington boots, and they were both knitting.
Whilst Noah was packing up, he said he dreamed we lived in a beautiful wooden house, and were going to the East Indies. The gipsies dreamt very often of their Romany Rye—sometimes Noah, sometimes Esmeralda, and sometimes Zachariah. It was impossible to leave such a beautiful camping-ground without regret. Whilst we were getting our things together three young tourists, carrying their knapsacks, came to our camp; they were very intelligent, agreeable companions. One of them said his father lived at Veblungsnœs. They left before the gipsies had loaded our donkeys. The weather now cleared up, and we were soon en route. As we afterwards passed “Lesje Jernvœrk” (ironworks), we saw the three tourists at the station. Mr. Bennett, in his handbook, says it is a tolerable inn kept by civil people. Our road lay through a pleasing diversity of lake, mountain, and pine forest. The tourists soon afterwards overtook us; one knew something of French, and we were able to converse more at ease. As we passed a house on the road-side, we observed our silent visitor in black surtout coat, and German silver watch chain, standing outside immobile with all his schoolboys. He was a schoolmaster. They seemed as a guard just turned out, and not a sound was heard as we passed. The peasants evinced the usual curiosity. One old woman who was knitting exhibited great signs of pleasure. One of our tourists said she was in an “extasy.” We had the donkeys, much to Noah’s chagrin, stopped for her inspection. The usual exclamation “Peen giœre!” was marked with much emphasis. Our tourists had gone on. The old lady followed along the road. As we went down a short descent to a bridge, we noticed a beautiful level camping-ground along the brook-side, sheltered by a few bushes, at a convenient distance from the road.
The camping-ground was all we could desire; saying, “We will camp here for to-night,” the word was given to halt. The donkeys were driven down to the brook-side. The old lady, who had been joined by three boys, still walked after us. The gipsies were so busy unloading that they did not pay much attention to our visitors.
As we suddenly looked round we were astonished at the appearance of one boy about sixteen; his face was completely eaten up with a kind of leprosy (spedalskhed) frightful to see. The boy wore a cross-belt, and carried a knife. He withdrew behind some bushes close by, perhaps to screen himself from observation, when he saw the countenances of ourself and gipsies—we had only had one glance—it was quite enough. Esmeralda said she should never forget it. It was quickly decided that it would be impossible to eat anything in comfort whilst the unfortunate boy was near our camp. One donkey was already nearly unpacked, but we did not see why we should be troubled with the vision of the afflicted leper whilst we could move to a more favoured spot. Ordering the donkeys to be reloaded, which my gipsies obeyed with wonderful alacrity, we were soon again en route.
The old lady was talking to a man driving a cart, apparently full of school children. He had pulled up at the bridge. They were evidently discussing a variety of matters relating to us. Without looking behind, we left the poor boy and his companions in complete possession of our intended camp.