"That will be very soon," rejoined Joel.
By the end of the week Sylvius Hogg was able to leave his room without assistance, though he still limped a little; and he now began to spend hours on the benches in front of the house, gazing at the snow-clad summit of Gousta, while the Maan dashed merrily along at his feet.
People were continually passing over the road that led from Dal to the Rjukanfos now. Most of them were tourists who stopped an hour or two at Dame Hanson's inn either to breakfast or dine. There were also students in plenty with knapsacks on their backs, and the little Norwegian cockade in their caps.
Many of them knew the professor, so interminable greetings were exchanged, and cordial salutations, which showed how much Sylvius Hogg was loved by these young people.
"What, you here, Mister Sylvius?" they would exclaim.
"Yes, my friend."
"You, who are generally supposed to be in the remotest depths of the Hardanger!"
"People are mistaken, then. It was in the remotest depths of the Rjukanfos that I came very near staying."
"Very well, we shall tell everybody that you are in Dal."
"Yes, in Dal, with a game leg."