Ticket No. 9672 (8 page)

"You have not only risked your life, but—"

"Made you risk yours."

"Oh! that is my business," replied Joel, lightly. Then he added, in
an entirely different tone: "The thing to be done now is to regain the
brow of the cliff, but the most difficult part of the task is already
accomplished."

"The most difficult?"

"Yes, sir. That was to reach you. Now we have only to ascend a much
more gradual slope.

"Still, you had better not place much dependence upon me, my boy. I
have a leg that isn't of much use to me just now, nor will it be for
some time to come I fear."

"Try to raise yourself a little."

"I will gladly do so if you will assist me."

"Then take hold of my sister's arm. I will steady you and push you
from below."

"Very well, my friends, I will be guided entirely by you; as you have
been so kind as to come to my assistance, I can not do less than yield
you implicit obedience."

Joel's plan was carried out in the most cautious manner, and though
the ascent was not made without considerable difficulty and danger,
all three accomplished it more easily and quickly than they had
thought possible. Besides, the injury from which the traveler was
suffering was neither a sprain nor dislocation, but simply a very bad
abrasion of the skin; consequently, he could use his limbs to much
better purpose than he had supposed, and ten minutes later he found
himself safe on the other side of the Maristien.

Once there, he would have been glad to rest awhile under the pines
that border the upper
field
of the Rjukanfos, but Joel persuaded
him to make one more effort. This was to reach a hut hidden among the
trees, a short distance from the rock, on which the brother and sister
had seated themselves on first arriving at the fall. The traveler
yielded to their solicitations, and supported on one side by Hulda,
and on the other by Joel, he finally succeeded in reaching the door of
the humble dwelling.

"Let us go in, sir," said Hulda. "You must want to rest a moment."

"The moment will probably be prolonged to a quarter of an hour."

"Very well, sir; but afterward you must consent to accompany us to
Dal."

"To Dal? Why, that is the very place I was going to!"

"Can it be that you are the tourist who was expected from the north?"
asked Joel.

"Precisely."

"Had I foreseen what was going to happen, I should have gone to the
other side of the Rjukanfos to meet you."

"That would have been a good idea, my brave fellow. You would have
saved me from a foolhardy act unpardonable at my age."

"Or at any age," replied Hulda.

The three entered the hut which was occupied by a family of peasants,
a father and two daughters, who received their unexpected guests with
great cordiality.

Joel was able to satisfy himself that the traveler had sustained no
injury beyond a severe abrasion of the skin a little below the knee;
but though the wound would necessitate a week's rest, the limb was
neither broken nor dislocated.

Some excellent milk, an abundance of strawberries, and a little black
bread were offered and accepted. Joel gave incontestable proofs of an
excellent appetite, and though Hulda eat almost nothing, the traveler
proved a match for her brother.

"My exertions have given me a famous appetite," he remarked; "but I
must admit that my attempt to traverse the Maristien was an act of the
grossest folly. To play the part of the unfortunate Eystein when one
is old enough to be his father—and even his grandfather—is absurd in
the highest degree."

"So you know the legend?" said Hulda.

"Of course. My nurse used to sing me to sleep with it in the happy
days when I still had a nurse. Yes, I know the story, my brave girl,
so I am all the more to blame for my imprudence. Now, my friends, Dal
seems a long way off to a cripple like myself. How do you propose to
get me there?"

"Don't worry about that, sir," replied Joel. "Our kariol is waiting
for us at the end of the road, about three hundred yards from here."

"Hum! three hundred yards!"

"But downhill all the way," added Hulda.

"Oh, in that case, I shall do very well if you will kindly lend me an
arm."

"Why not two, as we have four at your disposal?" responded Joel.

"We will say two then. It won't cost me any more, will it?"

"It will cost you nothing."

"Except my thanks; and that reminds me that I have not yet thanked
you."

"For what, sir?" inquired Joel.

"Merely for saving my life at the risk of your own."

"Are you quite ready to start?" inquired Hulda, rising to escape any
further expression of gratitude.

"Certainly, certainly. I am more than willing to be guided by the
wishes of the other members of the party."

The traveler settled the modest charge made by the occupants of the
cottage; then, supported by Joel and Hulda, he began the descent of
the winding path leading to the river bank.

The descent was not effected without many exclamations of pain; but
these exclamations invariably terminated in a hearty laugh, and at
last they reached the saw-mill, where Joel immediately proceeded to
harness the horse into the kariol.

Five minutes later the traveler was installed in the vehicle, with
Hulda beside him.

"But I must have taken your seat," he remarked to Joel.

"A seat I relinquish to you with the utmost willingness."

"But perhaps by a little crowding we might make room for you?"

"No, no, I have my legs, sir—a guide's legs. They are as good as any
wheels."

Joel placed himself at the horse's head, and the little party started
for Dal. The return trip was a gay one, at least on the part of the
traveler, who already seemed to consider himself an old friend of
the Hansen family. Before they reached their destination they found
themselves calling their companion M. Silvius; and that gentleman
unceremoniously called them Hulda and Joel, as if their acquaintance
had been one of long standing.

About four o'clock the little belfry of Dal became visible through the
trees, and a few minutes afterward the horse stopped in front of
the inn. The traveler alighted from the kariol, though not without
considerable difficulty. Dame Hansen hastened to the door to receive
him, and though he did not ask for the best room in the house, it was
given to him all the same.

Sylvius Hogg was the name that the stranger inscribed upon the
inn register, that same evening, directly underneath the name of
Sandgoist, and there was as great a contrast between the two names
as between the men that bore them. Between them there was nothing
whatever in common, either mentally, morally, or physically. One was
generous to a fault, the other was miserly and parsimonious; one was
genial and kind-hearted, in the arid soul of the other every noble and
humane sentiment seemed to have withered and died.

Sylvius Hogg was nearly sixty years of age, though he did not appear
nearly so old. Tall, erect, and well built, healthy alike in mind and
in body, he pleased at first sight with his handsome genial face, upon
which he wore no beard, but around which clustered curling locks of
silvery hair; eyes which were as smiling as his lips, a broad forehead
that bore the impress of noble thoughts, and a full chest in which
the heart beat untrammeled. To all these charms were added an
inexhaustible fund of good humor, a refined and liberal nature, and a
generous and self-sacrificing disposition.

Sylvius Hogg, of Christiania—no further recommendation was needed.
That told the whole story. And he was not only known, appreciated,
loved and honored in the Norwegian capital, but throughout the entire
country, though the sentiments he inspired in the other half of the
Scandinavian kingdom, that is to say in Sweden, were of an entirely
different character.

This fact can easily be explained.

Sylvius Hogg was a professor of law at Christiania. In some lands to
be a barrister, civil engineer, physician, or merchant, entitles one
to a place on the upper rounds of the social ladder. It is different
in Norway, however. To be a professor there is to be at the top of the
ladder.

Though there are four distinct classes in Sweden, the nobility,
the clergy, the gentry, and the peasantry, there are but three
in Norway—the nobility being utterly wanting. No aristocracy is
acknowledged, not even that of the office-holder, for in this favored
country where privileged persons are unknown, the office-holder
is only the humble servant of the public. In fact, perfect social
equality prevails without any political distinctions whatever.

Sylvius Hogg being one of the most influential men in the country, the
reader will not be surprised to learn that he was also a member of the
Storthing; and in this august body, by the well-known probity of his
public and private life even more than by his mighty intellect, he
wielded a powerful influence even over the peasant deputies elected in
such large numbers in the rural districts.

Ever since the adoption of the Constitution of 1814, it may be
truly said that Norway is a republic with the King of Sweden for
its president; for Norway, ever jealous of her rights, has carefully
guarded her individuality. The Storthing will have nothing whatever to
do with the Swedish parliament; hence it is only natural that the most
prominent and patriotic members of the Storthing should be regarded
with distrust on the other side of the imaginary frontier that
separates Sweden from Norway.

This was the case with Sylvius Hogg. Being extremely independent in
character, and utterly devoid of ambition, he had repeatedly declined
a position in the Cabinet; and a stanch defender of all the rights
of his native land, he had constantly and unflinchingly opposed any
threatened encroachment on the part of Sweden.

Such is the moral and political gulf between the two countries that
the King of Sweden—then Oscar XV.—after being crowned at Stockholm,
was obliged to go through a similar ceremony at Drontheim, the ancient
capital of Norway. Such too is the suspicious reserve of Norwegian men
of business, that the Bank of Christiania is unwilling to accept the
notes of the Bank of Stockholm! Such too is the clearly defined line
of demarkation between the two nations that the Swedish flag floats
neither over the public buildings of Norway, nor from the masts of
Norwegian vessels. The one has its blue bunting, bearing a yellow
cross; the other a blue cross upon a crimson ground.

Sylvius Hogg was a thorough Norwegian in heart and in soul, and
stoutly defended her rights upon all occasions; so, when in 1854 the
Storthing was discussing the question of having neither a viceroy
nor even a governor at the head of the state, he was one of the most
enthusiastic champions of the measure.

Consequently, though he was by no means popular in the eastern part of
Scandinavia, he was adored in the western part of it, even in the most
remote hamlets. His name was a household word throughout Norway from
the dunes of Christiansand to the bleak rocks of the North Cape, and
so worthy was he of this universal respect that no breath of calumny
had ever sullied the reputation of either the deputy or the professor.
But though he was a Norwegian to the core he was a hot-blooded man,
with none of the traditional coldness and apathy of his compatriots;
but much more prompt and resolute in his thoughts and acts than most
Scandinavians, as was proved by the quickness of his movements, the
ardor of his words, and the vivacity of his gestures. Had he been born
in France, one would have unhesitatingly pronounced him a Southerner.

Sylvius Hogg's fortune had never exceeded a fair competence, for
he had not entered into politics for the purpose of making money.
Naturally unselfish, he never thought of himself, but continually of
others; nor was he tormented by a thirst for fame. To be a deputy was
enough for him; he craved no further advancement.

Just at this time Sylvius Hogg was taking advantage of a three months'
vacation to recuperate after a year of severe legislative toil. He
had left Christiania six weeks before, with the intention of traveling
through the country about Drontheim, the Hardanger, the Telemark, and
the districts of Kongsberg and Drammen. He had long been anxious
to visit these provinces of which he knew nothing; and his trip
was consequently one of improvement and of pleasure. He had already
explored a part of the region, and it was on his return from the
northern districts that the idea of visiting the famous falls of the
Rjukan—one of the wonders of the Telemark—first occurred to him. So,
after surveying the route of the new railroad—which as yet existed
only on paper—between the towns of Drontheim and Christiania, he sent
for a guide to conduct him to Dal. He was to meet this guide on the
left bank of the Maan; but lured on by the beauties of the Maristien,
he ventured upon the dangerous pass without waiting for his guide. An
unusual want of prudence in a man like him and one that nearly cost
him his life, for had it not been for the timely assistance rendered
by Joel and Hulda Hansen, the journey would have ended with the
traveler himself in the grim depths of the Rjukanfos.

The people of Scandinavia are very intelligent, not only the
inhabitants of the cities, but of the most remote rural districts.
Their education goes far beyond reading, writing, and arithmetic.
The peasant learns with avidity. His mental faculties are ever on the
alert. He takes a deep interest in the public welfare and no mean part
in all political and local affairs. More than half of the Storthing is
made up of members of this rank in life. Not unfrequently they attend
its sessions clad in the costume of their particular province; but
they are justly noted for their remarkable good sense, acute reasoning
powers, their clear though rather slow understanding, and above all,
for their incorruptibility.