Fri-sted er, Ver-dens Tummel ned-en-for til min sky-høje Bo-lig ej naar.
Ole sang “Saga’s Hall.” Luther, with his sweet high tenor, was very good, and eventually a bouquet was thrown to him. The delicate attention seemed to be appreciated, although it was composed of straw and red labels from the tin cans of our preserved meats, &c. Then we had a bar or two of “God save the Queen,” and so into our tents. The next day we made a long journey, with much snow and heavy winds. In the afternoon we had to swim the ponies through a river—a very pretty sight indeed—the only drawback being clouds of mosquitoes. They were perfectly awful, and no avoiding them. We were even thankful to think we should not have them at home for a continuance, for the remark that we should soon get used to them afforded no comfort.
At this altitude we found the ptarmigan sitting about. The shooting of these birds does not commence until August 15th, and they seemed to know that we, as Englishmen, would not shoot before that day. So we actually threw stones at them, and one old bird, when knocked off the top of a large stone, positively came back to see what it was all about. Soon after this we discovered freske spör (new deer slots). The dogs livened up for a time. All soon settled, however, into steady travel again. Danjel was telescoping continually, but frequently a supposed reindeer turned out to be only a stone in the snow, till at last the Patriarch ventured to remark that there were “mange stor steen in Gamle Norge, og maget god telescope jagt,” which Danjel understood to suggest real deer instead of stones, and we should all have preferred, as it was one of the objects of our expedition, shooting reindeer to telescoping them. They are very wild, and quite justify the old saying, “Mange dyr, mange øine” (many deer, many eyes). Our course now lay from Buvalden due north, and we started in good time from Thorbvu for the snow ranges, leaving the horses and baggage below, we going as light as possible, with our own food for the day, and plenty of goat cheese. At lunch Danjel explained to the Patriarch that he should eat much goat cheese, for if he eat sufficient he should partake of the nature of that saltatory animal, and in time jump cleverly and boldly from rock to rock—an accomplishment in much requisition during our wanderings.
Snow Pass: Thorbvu.
An incident of piscatorial interest occurred here. We sent a hunter, who had never had a rod in his hand before, down to a lake, or vand, to try for some trout. In an hour he came back with about twenty, averaging nearly one pound each. Of course he was not casting, or “flick” would have been the fate of the fly; he only trailed. Still his success was perfect, and he was delighted with his new sport.
The male reindeer are called bucks, the female ko and semle ko, and the young kalve. In the daytime they roll in the snow, and if they sleep at all, it is certainly with one eye open. Having seen and telescoped many large stones, and taken them for deer, there was a strong inclination to inquire more closely as to the probability of sport, and a suppressed anxiety to hear a definite opinion as to our chance of a shot, if nothing more. The hunter must be patient, persevering, careful not to appear even as a moving speck on the interminable expanse of virgin snow, and take his sport quietly, for better or worse. Our Tentmaster had made many expeditions, had seen many deer, and even when his chance came an impetuous—shall we say friend?—rushed out in front of him, fired, and missed. So tradition said. We are glad to state that this did not occur during our present trip. His successes arrived, however, after a time, and never will he forget the day when he killed his first reindeer. Long may he live to kill more!
Let us here give his first experience; so pray silence for the Tentmaster.