AN ELK SEASON. 167 



So the season ended for us, and on the following morning 

 a small procession of carioles followed each other down the 

 deep descent from the skyds station, we bade a regretful 

 farewell to our Norwegian friends, and set out through the 

 sombre forests on our way home. The gloom of the pines 

 was now emblazoned with the autumn gold of the alders 

 shivering in the cold wind ; the soft greens of the mosses and 

 ferns and tall rustling plants were touched by frost to fiercer 

 colours all was changed, the country no longer looked as 

 we had seen it in August. There were five of us, accom- 

 panied by Kristian and his son, with sundry cariole boys. 

 At a farm on the way we heard with some envy of a recently- 

 killed bear, but the only other incident of the long, cold 

 drive occurred on the forest road within half a mile of the 

 hotel on the beach of the Snaasenvand a large capercailzie 

 cock, disturbed by the passing of the foremost cariole, flew 

 out of the trees, turned up the road, and skimmed so close 

 above my head that I only missed him by a matter of inches 

 when I struck at him with the whip-butt. After spending 

 the night at the hotel, where we dined off seven different 

 kinds of cheese, we found our way by motor-boat and cariole 

 to the Trondjhem Fjord, and thence by steamer to the 

 ancient capital of the Vikings, where at that period the 

 population were wildly excited over the question of the 

 separation from Sweden, which has since become an his- 

 torical fact. 



