o brave death rather than prolong this
agony. Buckling on his sword, he mounted one of his father's steeds, and
set forth for the north, filled with the dream of rescuing his native
land. It was near the 25th of November, and the scenery was well in
keeping with the dreary thoughts that flooded the horseman's mind. The
stern gnarled oaks along the wayside, twisting their leafless boughs
athwart the sky, seemed as perverse as the Swedes whom he had vainly
sought to rouse. Even the frosty soil beneath him, unyielding to his
tread, recalled the apathy with which his fellow-countrymen had listened
to his cries. Had he been fired solely by a love of Sweden, he would
very likely long ere this have renounced his hopeless task. But a
selfish purpose kept him in the path. He was a pariah, hunted down by
his enemies, and driven through sheer necessity to play the patriot. It
was liberty or death. And so he pushed on, resolved to mingle among the
hardy mountaineers of Dalarne, and strive at all hazards to rouse the
flagging pulses of their hearts.[53]

Crossing Lake Maelar about four miles from his father's house, Gustavus
hurried through the forests north of the lake with all the speed that a
patriot's zeal could lend. To one companioned by happier thoughts the
journey in those late autumn days must have been filled with delight.
Dalarne, through which his journey lay, is the paradise of Sweden. As
its name imports, it is "the land of valleys." The whole province stands
high above the sea, rising higher as we travel farther north. The hills
which separate the valleys are mostly crowned with pine and fir, and
down their sides run broad and gently sloping fields. Here and there the
scenery is varied by a little hamlet nestling along the hillside. Little
lakes, too, dot the surface of the land, and tiny brooks go babbling
across the fields. One stream, famous in Swedish history, bisects the
district from north to south, passing through various lakes, and finally
pours its waters into the Baltic. This tortuous river, called the
Dalelf, is in some places broad and majestic, while in others it is
narrow and goes foaming like a cataract over the rocks. Along the banks
of this stream Gustavus traced his steps, making first for a village on
Lake Runn, where an old Upsala schoolmate dwelt. Here he arrived some
five days after he left his father's house, and presenting himself in
peasant's dress was given refuge. However, he declared to no o