“Yes! there were we two alone on the top of Norefjeld, five thousand feet above the sea, with a biting wind blowing that made our cheeks tingle, and the darkness growing thicker and thicker every moment. Far away in the west there was a faint glimmer of daylight,—of the last day of the old year,—just enough to guide us by. The next thing to be done was to get down to Eggedal. From where we were it was a distance of about six and one-half miles, a matter of little consequence in broad daylight, but in the present instance no joke, I can assure you! However, it had to be done. So off we started, I leading the way, Eva following.
“We went like the wind down the slope, but had to be very careful. When one has been out in the dark some little time, it is just as if the snow gives out a faint light—though light it cannot really be termed, but a feeble kind of shimmer. Goodness only knows how we managed to get down, but get down we did! As it was too steep to go on ski, there was nothing for it but to squat and slide down—a kind of locomotion detrimental, perhaps, to one’s breeches, but under the circumstances unquestionably the safest mode of proceeding in the dark!
“When we had got half-way down my hat blew off. So I had to ‘put the brake on,’ and get up on my legs, and go after it. Far away above me I got a glimpse of a dark object on the snow, crawled after it, got up to it, and grasped it, to find it was only a stone! My hat, then, must be further up. Surely that was it—again I got hold of a stone! The snow seemed to be alive with stones. Hat after hat, hat after hat, but whenever I tried to put it on my head, it turned out to be a stone. A stone for bread is bad enough, and stones for hats are not a bit better! So I had to give it up, and go hatless.
“Eva had been sitting waiting for me all this while. ‘Eva,’ I shouted, and a faint answer came back from below.
“Those miles seemed to be uncommonly long ones. Every now and then we could use our ski, and then it would become so steep again that we had to carry them. At last we came to a standstill. There was a chasm right in front of us,—how deep it was it was too dark to ascertain. However, we bundled over it somehow or other, and happily the snow was very deep. It is quite incredible how one can manage to get over a difficulty!
“As regards our direction, we had lost it completely; all we knew was that we must get down into the valley. Again we came to a standstill, and Eva had to wait while I went on, groping in the dark, trying to find a way. I was absent on this errand some little time. Presently it occurred to me, ‘What if she should have fallen asleep!’
“‘Eva!’ I shouted, ‘Eva!’ Yes, she answered; but she must be a long way above where I was. If she had been asleep it would have been a difficult matter to have found her. But I groped my way up-hill to her, with the consolation that I had found the bed of a stream. Now the bed of a stream is not very well adapted for ski, especially when it is pitch dark, and the stomach is empty, and conscience pricks you,—for really I ought not to have ventured on such an expedition with her. However, ‘all’s well that ends well,’ and we got through all right.
“We had now got down to the birch scrub, and at last found our road.
“After some little time we passed a cabin. I thought it wouldn’t be a bad place to take refuge in, but Eva said it was so horribly dirty! She was full of spirits now, and voted for going on. So on we went, and in due time reached the parish clerk’s house in Eggedal. Of course the inmates were in bed, so we had to arouse them. The clerk was horrified when I told him we had just come from the top of Norefjeld. This time Eva was not so nice about lodgings, for no sooner had she sat down on a chair, than she fell asleep. It was midnight, mind you, and she had been in harness fourteen hours.
“‘He’s a bit tired, poor lad!’ said the clerk. For Eva had on a ski-dress with a very small skirt, trousers, and a Lapp fur cloak.