REINDEER.
_August 12._--We wonder whether our friends in Scotland and Yorkshire
have such a day as this: if they have, it is rough on the grouse.
There is not a breath the bottle-green wave to curl, and the sun shines
as if Odin had redeemed his other eye.
The Skipper and Öla went forth to pursue, and walked over an enormous
distance into the previously unknown region of Memurutungen. Up on the
mountains life on a day of this kind is bliss; there is more air there
than in the valley, and it is delightful to be far away from the busy
world--consisting of your two pals and Ivar--below; surrounded by the
snowy peaks and sky, with not a living thing save perhaps an eagle in
sight.
[Illustration: The two 'Meget Stor Bocks' (very big Bucks) on
Memurutungen]
In the middle of the day they came on fresh deer tracks, at which of
course their flagging interest revived; and presently they descried on a
snow fjeld about a mile away, two deer 'scooting' over the opposite
mountain side. These they followed, and made a long détour to get the
right side of the breath of wind that occasionally made itself felt up
there, for the reindeer has probably the most acute scent of all the
deer tribe. In the midst of this détour they suddenly came in sight of
two other bucks, about 300 yards away, much finer animals than the first
two; in fact, they had the best heads the Skipper ever saw. But luck was
against him; they were wrong for the wind, and a puff came just at the
moment, which carried the unwelcome intelligence to those deer that
their hated enemy was upon them, and they departed round a corner at a
rapid trot, and were no more seen. Then Öla looked at the Skipper with a
sorrowful shake of the head, and said, 'Meget store bocks!' (very big
bucks), and the Skipper replied with a still more portentous shake,
'Meget, meget.' So they were left with their mouths wide open,
muttering, 'Meget, meget store bocks.' And after following the tracks
some time without seeing anything more of the deer, they gave up the
chase and returned to camp, getting home in a very exhausted state about
6.30.
During dinner old Peter Tronhuus arrived in camp with a packet of
letters and papers, and a fore-quarter of venison from Rus Vand. Mr.
Thomas had been like ourselves reindeer-less until yesterday, when he
found a large herd, and was lucky enough to get two out of them.
Peter also told us that two friends of Thomas's who had been staying
with him were walking over the mountain to see our camp, and would then
go to Gjendesheim with him in the boat in which he had come.
Presently these two men arrived extremely hot, and looking as if they
would like beer; so we appeased them with one of our few remaining
bottles, and after showing them all the sights of the camp took them out
on the lake in the canoes. One of them spoke a little English, the other
only French and Norwegian. The latter asked the Skipper, in the Gallic
tongue, 'if we had entrapped many fish?' and 'if we had not fear to
venture on the lake in such small boats?' and informed him that 'there
were many savage ducks about this year.' The other one, regardless of
his own life and safety, and also of Esau's--in whose canoe he was
sitting--_would_ keep throwing up his arms and exclaiming, 'It gives us
moch playsure to make a travel in the Canadian cano.' But we think they
were proud and thankful when the experiment was over, and they were safe
in Peter's boat. These strangers displayed unwonted courage, for the
ordinary native has a wholesome dread of our frail craft. The hardy
Norseman's house of yore was doubtless on the foaming wave, but that was
before the days of Canadian canoes.
At dinner John informed the company that his bath in the lake yesterday
was the third of a series the first of which took place in Montenegro,
the second in Algiers, and now this in Norway. He calls this a humble
tribute to the geniality of the English summer, and thinks that he may
be termed 'a polyglot ablutionist.' Some of the sojourners in this camp
say it may be so, but it does not speak highly for John's love of water
when undiluted with whisky.
Subsequently we found that the bath which he swaggered about only
occurred because he fell off a rock into the lake, and so dabbled about
afterwards while his clothes were drying, which does not take long in
this weather. This also accounts for the condition in which he returned
to camp, 'sans bags, sans shirt, sans everything,'--barring his boots.
Late at night Esau, who was up last, put his head into the tent to
remark that there was a first-rate comet on view, but he was received
with such execrations from the other two lazy people in bed that he
thought it prudent to say no more about it, and not to look at it any
more himself.
_August 13._--We spent the morning making a meat safe. This meat safe
consists of a hole in the ground, neatly flagged with flat stones, and
walled with the same, and furnished at the top with a wooden frame, into
which fits a lid with hooks underneath it for birds. The whole is
covered with a piece of muslin to keep off the villanous bluebottles.
The muslin was brought to make into mosquito nets inside the tent, but
in this happy spot the 'skeeter' is unknown, the sand-fly very rare, and
the great green-eyed Möge--which bites a lump out of your leg and then
flies to the nearest tree to eat it--is conspicuous by its absence.
We have always been very careful not to prepare in any way for game
before it is killed, but this usually successful plan has been a failure
this year, so now we are desperate, and have made a safe which will hold
a reindeer, and probably with a little more bad luck shall even go out
stalking with ropes in our pockets ready to tie up the animal when
killed. We caught Öla a week ago carving a piece of stick into the
double-ended thing that butchers put between the legs of sheep to keep
them apart (name unknown), but we promptly seized it, and made it into
the handle of a frying-pan. But who can escape his destiny? We hoped
that we had averted misfortune, but the deed was done, and no doubt it
was owing to this that the Skipper failed to get a shot at the 'store
bocks.'
When John and Esau had finished the safe and succeeded in catching
enough nice fish for the requirements of the camp, they were seized with
the desire of making a good bath. We have no first-rate bathing-place
near the camp, as the glacier-river has made the lake too shallow round
its mouth, and it is some distance to where the shore becomes bold and
rocky.
They selected a nice little stream on the hill just above the tent, and
toiled like navvies there for about four hours under a blazing sun,
excavating and paving with flat stones, making a most palatial bath in
the bed of the stream; when behold! just as it was completed, to use the
graphic language of one of the constructors, 'May I be dodderned, and
doggoned, and dingblamed by Pike, if the blooming stream didn't cease to
run!' It did just supply about a pint of water before it quite stopped,
into which Esau's watch flew as he flung on his coat with some slight,
and perhaps excusable, show of temper. A pint of water is not enough for
a man to bathe in, but it is quite sufficient to saturate a watch,
especially if a stone obligingly smashes the glass and makes a hole in
its face obliterating the vii. viii. and ix. at the time of its
immersion. However, he dug the mud out of the works, filled them with
Rangoon oil, and is under the impression that that watch can be made to
go again, and that a new face and glass and silver case will make it
look all right. He is of a sanguine disposition.
They returned to camp saying that it would be all right as soon as the
first rain came, but they reckoned without their host; the stream came
from a little snowdrift on the mountain, and next time that Esau went up
there he found that the heat of the last few days had melted it all
away; hence its sudden stop. It never ran again. Perchance some future
traveller will find the bath ages hence, and rejoice in its luxurious
arrangements. In anticipation of this John wrote the following beautiful
lines on the most prominent rock:--
'Stranger, pause and shed a tear:
There used to be a streamlet here;
But seeing Esau strip to lave
His sordid body 'neath its wave,
All filled with shame and blushing red,
The streamlet left its gravel bed;
Its only wish from him to flee,
It ran away and went to sea.'
The Skipper returned rather late with some very good fish from our old
lake Rus Vand, and dinner was consequently at the extremely fashionable
hour of 8.30.
MENU.
_Poisson._
Truite à la Norvège.
_Gibier._
Teal en matelote de Bacon.
Pommes de terre sautéd in a frying-pan.
_Potage._
Skoggaggany.
Potage is frequently eaten last, for it keeps hot longer than the other
dishes, and as we always feed in the open air in fine weather, they cool
more quickly than in civilisation.
[Illustration: Hot Soup and Northern Lights]
About nine o'clock a splendid display of northern lights was produced
for our benefit, and we stayed up till twelve o'clock baking bread and
gazing at the ever-changing beauties of this glorious sight. In the
course of conversation it transpired that the same thing happened last
night in a milder form, and it was this that Esau had announced as a
comet. To-night he was immensely delighted with the show, because he
says it will bring good luck; quoting 'Aurora bright, dear harbinger of
dawn.' He said this was Shakespeare, and if Shakespeare called Aurora a
'deer harbinger,' that ought to be enough for us. The other two agreed,
but did not believe Shakespeare ever wrote that, or anything like it.
'What play was it in?' 'Play!' said Esau, with the utmost contempt, 'you
awful duffers, it's in the sonnets; I dare say you never read all of
them.' This was unanswerable, for of course no one ever did read all the
sonnets. But in revenge John composed some poetry about Esau, after the
manner of Walt Whitman, he said.
If Walt Whitman ever wrote anything like this, he ought to be made to
read it. We give a few lines:--
''Twas he who culled the bluest berry sweet,
And with his jodelling made the heights reply
To airs that oft have graced the music hall:
Anon when work or sport was put aside,
The fragrant omelette he would deftly roll;
No better man to fry the curling trout,
None with more appetite to make it scarce.
When tired nature seeks repose in bed,
To lie when others rise and calmly rest,
He most surpassed the seven Sleepers' selves.
This is the sort of rubbish men can write
Who to inanity devote their minds;
But nought save great experience will suffice
To do the trick; no amateur can hope
To vie with those who've studied it from youth.'
And so on for pages.
On examining the diaries which we all keep, the following remarks on the
aurora were found:--
NO. 1.--BY THE SKIPPER.
'The heavens were illuminated by most brilliant northern lights, which
flickered in a great arch over the starry sky.'
NO. 2.--BY ESAU.
'A most glorious display of northern lights, huge bands of light across
the sky; waving, flickering, and disappearing, then suddenly shining out
again more brilliantly than before, while all the time straight
streamers of light were shooting upwards from the horizon.'
NO. 3.--BY JOHN.
'The glow of a remarkably fine aurora borealis, whose silvery shimmering
shafts flickered incessantly all over the heavens in the most fantastic
shapes.'
It will be observed that we all agree in the flickering, consequently
you may bet it _did_ flicker. But for this fortunate fact it would be
hard to recognise the three descriptions as identical, and yet this is
the way history is written.