SAETER LIFE. 187 
family, and soon was lost to sight in the windings of the 
path beyond the lake.’ Du Chaillu also resumed his 
Journey to visit other saeters. 
‘From Lake Valdal, says he ‘ The path northward, over 
the mountains, is wild and dreary, even in the beginning 
large patches of snow having to be crossed. 
‘ After leaving the lake we ascended over a rugged coun- 
try above the birch region where juniper and Arctic ber- 
ries were abundant. An hour’s walk brought us to the 
shores of the lakelet Visadal Vand, not far from which was 
an isolated poor-looking saeter built of loose stones. The 
inside was far from clean; on one side were the beds, 
placed on the rough slab-floor ; on the other the fire-place ; 
in a corner lay a heap of juniper bushes, five or six pails, 
a copper kettle for making cheese and boiling milk, a 
coffee-pot, and a churn. The occupant of the saeter and 
his wife welcomed me ; the man was apparently more than 
‘eighty years of age, but hale and hearty ; he had travelled 
about eighty miles to spend the summer here, and well 
exemplified the hardiness of these mountaineers. This 
saeter had 120 dry cows, belonging to many farmers, who 
had sent them here to pasture. A hired woman and three 
men had the charge of them, having also five milch cows 
for their special use beside,’ He and the guide continued 
their journey over bare rocks. and patches of snow, some- 
times the horse taking one way up the steep ascent, and 
they another, passing many cascades and waterfalls. Others 
have told me the same tale, He writes, . . . ‘We 
were still ascending, and our pass was more than 4000 feet 
above the level of the sea. The fields of snow, which were 
deep and soft, increased in size, and we had to cross one, 
horse and all, almost one and a-half miles long: now and 
then we saw tracks of wild reindeer. Suddenly we found 
a track of red snow in the midst of the white, the first I 
had ever seen. I imagined a reindeer had been killed 
there, and that the snow had been stained by its blood.’ 
‘This is gammel snow—old snow,’ said my guide. As we 
advanced these rose-coloured’ patches became more nume- 
