VII. 3 SADNESS AND JOLLITY. 49 



Unbridling and unsaddling our steeds, we turned them 

 loose upon the pasture, and sat ourselves down on a sunny 

 knoll to lunch. For the first time since landing in Iceland 

 I felt hungry ; as, for the first time, four successive hours had 

 elapsed without our having been compelled to take a snack. 

 The appetites of the ponies seemed equally good, though 

 probably with them hunger was no such novelty. Wilson 

 alone looked sad. He confided to me privately that he 

 feared his trousers would not last such jolting many days ; 

 but his dolefulness, like a bit of minor in a sparkling melody, 

 only made our jollity more radiant. In about half an hour 

 Sigurdr gave the signal for a start ; and having caught, 

 saddled, and bridled three unridden ponies, we drove Snorro 

 and his companions to the front, and proceeded on our way 

 rejoicing. After an hour's gradual ascent through a pic- 

 turesque ravine, we emerged upon an immense desolate 

 plateau of lava, that stretched away for miles and miles like a 

 great stony sea. A more barren desert you cannot conceive. 

 Innumerable boulders, relics of the glacial period, encum- 

 bered the track. We could only go at a foot-pace. Not a 

 blade of grass, not a strip of green, enlivened the prospect, 

 and the only sound we heard was the croak of the curlew and 

 the wail of the plover. Hour after hour we plodded on, but 

 the grey waste seemed interminable, boundless ; and the only 

 consolation Sigurdr would vouchsafe was, that our journey's 

 end lay on this side of some purple mountains that peeped 

 like the tents of a demon leaguer above the stony horizon. 



As it was already eight o'clock, and we had been told the 

 entire distance from Reykjavik to Thingvalla was only five- 

 and-thirty miles, I could not comprehend how so great a 

 space should still separate us from our destination. Con- 

 cluding more time had been lost in shooting, lunching, etc., 

 by the way than we had supposed, I put my pony into a 

 canter, and determined to make short work of the dozen miles 

 which seemed still to lie between us and the hills, on this 

 side of which I understood from Sigurdr our encampment 

 for the night was to be pitched. 



4 



