THE INVISIBLE BATHER.

317

there. There was the clear gravelly bed which made us wish to take a refreshing plunge.

The clothes were left. The woman was gone. Probably wandering about in the forest. We hope she did not unhappily lose herself. It is one of the mysteries of this book we shall never be able to clear.

At one log châlet Ole Rödsheim took an old man with us for a short distance. At another part of our winding way up some open ground towards the woods, we could see on the opposite side the valley sloping to the stream below a man and woman running at the top of their speed in the hot sun towards a bridge over the river. Our party were fast ascending towards the ridge of the ascent, and would soon be out of sight. Sometimes the woman gained ground upon the man. Every muscle was strained. It was the best steeplechase we ever saw. Then they dashed wildly across a slight wooden bridge at some distance off. We purposely delayed our cavalcade, to let them have a chance, and panting for breath and almost exhausted, they ultimately reached us. The admiration they exhibited for the noble animals with which we travelled left no doubt that they felt quite rewarded for their long and well-contested race. We forget which came up first.

Passing to the "Gröna elv," above Molmen, we had the opportunity of seeing the picturesque waterfall called the Gröna fos. It roars through overhanging rocks, and high above the Gröna we reached a slight horse-bridge stretched over a wide deep chasm, with the rapid waters of the river below. Very little attention. appears to be given to these bridges. The planks were loose, and in places out, and some were not fastened.

Stopping up the open places as well as our materials would allow, we determined to risk our animals. They fortunately went over the bridge exceedingly well, but the last heavily laden donkey nearly slipped its hind leg through an awkward crevice, and was only just saved.

Ole Rödsheim was very handy in our first experience of Norwegian mountain-bridges, and quite verified our early formed opinion of his quick readiness of resource.

Now we were winding through a forest of firs and birch. Very warm it was, but the way was delightful. There were two tracks to the Ny Soter, but Ole chose the track by a soeter, we believe called the Gröna Soeter.* This we reached in good time. The sœter is built on a wooded plateau above a wild gorge through which the river Gröna takes its course.

* Sæter is pronounced "saiter," and, like the châlet in Switzerland, affords rough accommodation on the cattle run, in the mountains, often at a long distance from the valley farm to which it belongs. The cattle are driven up from the valley, at the beginning of the summer, for pasture, and the butter and cheese are made at the sæter. At the end of the summer, the cattle are driven back to the valley farms, and housed for the winter.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

-Je ne connais pas de reine de ce nom-là.

-Même parmi les zingaris?

-C'est vrai, dit Fernand, j'oubliais les Bohémiens ont des rois.

"It is true," said Fernand, "I had forgotten the gipsies have kings." "And queens," said Ginesta.

BOTANISING-ESMERALDA LOST-FOUND AGAIN-THE EAGLE-MOUNTAIN BIVOUAC ESMERALDA ILL-OLE'S BED

DIFFICULTIES-MOUNTAIN

HOTEL BILLS ROUGH ROUTE - - DONKEYS IN SNOW THE PURU RAWNEE DOWN-THE NY SETER-GIPSY DISCUSSION-THE ENGLISHMAN'S HOUSE HOSPITALITY NORWEGIAN NAMES- FILLINGSHÖ— LARGE LAKE.

No one was at the soeter. After a middags-mad of tea, bacon, potatoes, fladbröd and butter, and a rest, we continued our journey. After pursuing our rough mountain track for a short time, we left the forest of the steep mountain side, and commenced a toilsome ascent, in a warm sun, across a wild rocky ravine, bare of trees, with a stream running down it. It was not very deep. Our party slowly ascended one side of the ravine towards the higher slopes of the mountain.

Gradually Esmeralda and ourself, who were collecting wild flowers, and Alpine Flora, were left behind. Patches of snow rested here and there as we ascended

the sides of the "Hyrjon Fjeld." The open mountain was rocky and bare of vegetation. Gradually and slowly we ascended higher and higher, when we suddenly missed our party. Track there was none distinguishable. We ascended to some higher ridges; but could see nothing of our guide, gipsies, or donkeys. A white handkerchief was fastened to the end of our Alpenstock. We used the shrill cry of the Australian signal and cooed loudly, but could hear no signal in return. Not a vestige of human life was to be seen on the rugged mountain slopes around us. It was quite clear that somehow we were lost. We had our compass; but then, we had no idea as to the course across the mountains Ole Rödsheim proposed to take.

Esmeralda did not appear much disconcerted by the incident. It was a scene for the artist's pencil, as the gipsy-girl ascended a hillock strewn with loose grey rocks, covered with lichen. There she stood in the evening sun, in a distant land across the sea, the blue feathers of her small straw hat, waving in the light warm breeze. One could not help feeling, that there was something more than common in this mystic race. The lone figure of the gipsy-girl, whose home was nature, seemed the queen of the wide expanse of barren "Fjeld" which she then surveyed. She gave a whistle-that peculiar shrill whistle which is known among themselves; a whistle, which, if not heard quite at Christiania, certainly must have disturbed the wild rein-deer of the surrounding fjelds from their slumbers.

We had almost come to the conclusion that we might have to spend the night as best we could on the "Hyrjon Fjeld;" just then we heard a return signal across some

ravines beyond us to our right. Zachariah had come back in search. They had turned sharply across the mountain slope to the right, and were hidden from view by the intervening ravines. We raced across the mountain side, and crossing some snow slopes of a ravine, getting well ahead, we kept up a sharp and rapid fire of snowballs at Esmeralda, prudently retreating immediately afterwards in pursuit of our party.*

Noah and Ole Rödsheim were waiting. The donkeys were soon in motion.

"Ah!" said Noah, who had a great contempt for botanical research; "That's the way with Mr. Smith; he plucks a flower, and then calls daughter to look at it. She says it's very pretty; and there they stand till nobody can tell what has become of them.”

Poor Noah! botany was not his forte. But all was sunshine again, and we quietly pursued our rough uneven

way.

Our path was now in the wild fjelds. Ole had his peculiar landmarks. Sometimes it was a rock; sometimes a large stone placed edgeways or on the top of another. For some time we kept along the side of a rugged slope. A large black and white eagle soared above us with a hawk near it. It gave life to the scene. Soon afterwards we came to an old reingrav. This is a kind of pit or trap formed of loose stones, into which the reindeer were sometimes driven by the hunters. A portion of a reindeer's horn was picked up by Noah and given to us.

* We were more fortunate than Williams, who, during his knapsack tour, lost his way when crossing over the Kjölen Fjeldene to Skeaker, and was alone, without food or rest, for nearly twenty-four hours-page 202 of "Through Norway with a Knapsack."

Y