My appearance created considerable surprise to the party, which however was not so much apparent in their words, as in the attention with which they regarded me and heard my story. The old man, whose name I had heard was Thor Lerberg, seemed particularly interested in it; and as it appeared that he was accustomed to thinking aloud, I could on hearing some of the remarks which he now and then mumbled to himself, participate in his reflections thus
"No, no that was the wrong way!—He should have gone over the dam there—Stubdale way—he went wrong altogether—he is too young—he isn't used to the woods—ah, that was the woodcock—and the goatsucker—yes, yes! it sounds strange to him, that hasn't heard him—oh, yes! the loon does shriek dreadfully—particularly when there's fine rain—ah, ah! yes, that must have been the bear he met—he is a brave boy after all!"
"Yes!" I said boldly, and gave vent to my awakening youthful courage in about the same words as the man who once came across a bear asleep on a sunny hillside: "If it had been daylight, and if I had been a hunter and had a loaded gun with me, and if I could have made it go off, why, by my faith, the bear should have lain dead on the spot, he should."
"Yes, of course, ha, ha, ha!" laughed old Thor, and chuckled till the others joined in the laughter; "of course he would have lain dead on the spot,—that's plain! ha, ha, ha!"
"But you are now by Storflaaten, the biggest lake in the forest here," he said, addressing himself to me, when I had finished my story; "towards morning we'll help you on your way, for we have got a boat, and when you have got across the water you haven't far to go to Stubdale then. But I suppose you would like to rest yourself a little now, and get something to eat! I have nothing but some peas-pudding and rancid bacon, and may be you are not used to that kind of food; but if you are hungry, perhaps you would like some fish? I have been out fishing, and fine fish I got too,—yes, in the lake, I mean!"
I thanked him for his offer, and he told one of his companions to take a "regular good 'un" off the string and roast it in the glowing embers of the fire.
In the meantime the old man asked a number of questions about myself, and by the time I had answered all these the fish was ready, and I began my meal with great appetite. He now asked one of his companions to tell us something about what he once said had happened to his father, when he was out cutting timber.
"That was in the spring, just before Easter 1815, when father lived at Oppen-Eie—the snow wasn't gone yet, but he had to set out for the forest to cut and drag home some wood. He went up in the Helling hill, where he found a withered fir which he commenced cutting down at once. While cutting away at it, he thought he saw withered firs all around him, but while he was staring and wondering at this, up came a procession of eleven horses,—all of a mouse-gray color; it appeared to him to be a wedding-party.
"What people are these, who are coming this way over the hill?" he asked.
"Oh, we are from Osthalla," says one of them, "we are going to the Veien dairy to keep the wedding; the one who drives in front is the parson, next are the bride and bridegroom, and I am his father-in-law. You had better stand behind on my sledge and come along."