A RACE TO BED 341 



Prestrud is about half-way between the good shots and 

 the bad. Hanssen throws like a professional, slinging 

 his dart with great force. He evidently thinks he is 

 hunting walrus. All the scores are carefully entered in 

 a book, and prizes will be given later on. 



Meanwhile Lindstrom is playing patience; his day's 

 work is now done. But, besides his cards, he is much 

 interested in what is going on round the target, and puts 

 in a good word here and there. Then he gets up with a 

 determined look; he has one more duty to perform. 

 This consists of changing the light from the big lamp 

 under the ceiling to two small lamps, and the reason 

 for the change is that the heat of the big lamp would be 

 too strongly felt in the upper bunks. This operation is 

 a gentle hint that the time has come for certain people 

 to turn in. The room looks dark now that the great 

 sun under the ceiling is extinguished; the two lamps 

 that are now alight are good enough, but one seems, 

 nevertheless, to have made a retrograde step towards the 

 days of pine-wood torches. 



By degrees, then, the vikings began to retire to 

 rest. My description of the day's life at Framheim 

 would be incomplete if I did not include this scene in 

 it. Lindstrom's chief pride, I had been told, was that 

 he was always the first man in bed; he would willingly 

 sacrifice a great deal to hold this record. As a rule, he 

 had no difficulty in fulfilling his desire, as nobody tried 

 to be before him; but this evening it was otherwise. 



