r's words by
tone and not by literal meaning, I could have taken affidavit that none
of them were Norsk.

However, we did not stay in ignorance long. Before the powder smoke had
been all driven away by the rain the intruder was out of the trees, and
had pulled up in front of us, chuckling. Then--"Hallo! an Englishman?
How we islanders do get to out-of-the-way chinks of the globe!"

He paused, and I began to apologize--to say how sorry I was, and work
up a neat speech generally--when he cut me short.

"Nearly sent me to the happy hunting grounds, sir? Well, perhaps so,
p'raps not. I've seen men missed at shorter rise."

I was a bit piqued at this, and said something about being pretty
useful with a rifle.

He laughed again. "We won't quarrel over it, sir, anyway. I expect
we're both of us satisfied as it is. My hide would have been no use to
you; and for myself, I'm quite content to wear it a bit longer. It fits
tolerably enough. But you've a camp somewhere hereaway, haven't you? I
thought I caught the gleam of a flying spark from down by the shingle
yonder. That's what brought me up."

I explained how we had got pinned in by the gale, and the quartette of
us went back to the _saeter_ hut. The newcomer feasted there off
elk-venison (contriving to cook it, I noticed, much more cannily than
we had done, though with exactly the same appliances), and between
whiles he was told of the chase of the _meget stor bock_--the
tracking, the view, and the place of the bullet wounds. Afterwards,
when we got to pipes and the last drainings of the grog, he explained
his presence.

"I expect the wandering Englishman is about as scarce up here as the
hoopoo, even when he's got a rifle or a rod in his fist; and as I've
neither the one nor the other, I must be very much of a _rara avis_,
and quite the sort of animal to shoot on sight. Fact is, I was round on
the fjord there with my boat, and from what my eyes showed me, and from
what a local _topografisk_ chart told, the country on the norrard side
was much as God stuck it together. I wanted to see a strip of that sort
up here, so I fixed a rendezvous and slipped ashore. As it turned out,
the map is a pretty bad one, and I lost time in _culs-de-sac_. Finally
came this lake with the steep flanks. I couldn't see to prick out
another course, and I was just casting about for a rock that held a dry
lee when I saw your light. And now, as I hear you chaps yawning and as
I'm about spun out