24 
WILD NORWAY. 
distance to right and left. In aspect it appeared hardly 
less barren and forbidding than the lunar landscape we 
were now traversing. 
From these “ mountains of the moon ” we descended 
through gloomy arctic glens and snow-filled gullies, that 
recalled the valleys of Spitsbergen, where, twelve years 
before, I had first hunted the wild reindeer. Thence 
hours of steady tramping across the fjeld; two broad, 
shallow torrents had to be forded, each of us hanging 
on the pony’s stern, behind its load, nor were matters 
made rosier by a snowstorm driving down the valley, 
luckily in our backs. It was already dark ere the 
second river was passed, and we rejoiced to observe 
that our men did not replace their boots—a sign that 
the end of our journey was near. Then, through the 
gloom, loomed the outline of a hut; but oh, horrors! 
it is occupied. From the open door issue three stalwart 
hunters; moreover, they had slain deer, as sundry skins 
laid out on the rocks attested. Poachers, villains, 
scoundrels !—how we hated them with a fierce hate. 
It is difficult in a moment to subdue the spirit of 
exclusiveness, the bye-product of British sport and its 
conditions. Reflection served to show that it was we, 
the foreign intruders, who might reasonably be regarded 
as poachers. W., promptly diagnosing the situation, 
harangued our new-found friends at length, expressing 
our joy at meeting them thus, our sorrow at not being 
able better to entertain them, etc. Not one syllable, 
of course, could they understand; but cordiality was 
established, and the scoundrel-in-chief was soon busy 
unloading our ponies, cleaning rifles, etc., everything 
being thickly coated with snow. 
