Chasing the Sun

by R. M. Ballantyne

Presently the schoolmaster’s wife took a small wooden cup, milked one of the does, and handed the proceeds to Fred. He was surprised to find the milk as thick and as pleasant to the taste as the richest cream; and he was still more surprised to be told that all that could be got from a doe at any one time was about half a tea-cupful.

The deer varied in colour from dark brown to almost white. The stags stood about three feet eight inches high at the shoulder, and the antlers were about three feet long, following the curve.

Quitting the enclosure, the party next visited several of the huts,—which were made of moss, turf, sticks, etcetera, put together in such a confused way, that it was difficult to make out how they had been formed. A hole in the side was the only door to each hut, and a hole in the top was the window and chimney. In one of these they found an extremely old woman seated on a pile of dirty deerskins. Sam Sorrel said he was convinced she was the schoolmaster’s great-grandmother. She looked like a living mummy, so small and wrinkled and brown and dried up was the poor old body. Yet she was lively enough to show signs of pleasure when Fred patted her back gently and presented her with a pair of scissors and a pair of worsted gloves.

It was a late hour before the curiosity of our friends was satisfied; the sun was dipping low on the horizon when at last they bade adieu to the Lapps, and harnessing their ponies, set out on the return journey. The way was long, and their eyes were heavy. They tried by means of conversation and song to keep themselves awake, but were unsuccessful. Despite their utmost efforts their heads would nod, and brief little dreams kept perpetually reminding them of Laplanders, dirty little schoolmasters, and reindeer.

Now, while Fred was nodding in his cart, and trying to keep awake that night, he little thought that he was so nearly attaining the great object for which he had come to Norway. Yet so it was. They came, in course of time, to the summit of a ridge from which could be had a splendid view of the fiord, and the sea with its thousands of islands beyond, and the Snowflake floating like a white speck on the blue water far below. Here Hans pulled up and touched Fred on the shoulder.

“Well, Hans, anything wrong?” said Fred starting and looking round.

“Sun not set here,” replied Hans with a grin.

“What!” cried Fred, jumping out of the cart, rubbing his eyes, and staring at the great luminary which was dipping close to the sea. “Impossible! we are not yet far enough north. You must be mistaken, Hans.”

To this Hans replied that he was not mistaken. That he had been on that same spot at the same time of the year long ago, and had noticed that the sun had not descended below the horizon. Pointing to the sharp top of a hill that rose some six or eight hundred feet close beside them, he said that from that point the sun would be seen complete, while from the place where they then stood the lower part of it would be hid below the horizon.

“Hallo! Grant Sam, d’ye hear that?” shouted Fred with enthusiasm. “We’ve no time to lose, quick, follow!”