st related, the fjord valley under the glacier was
startled by three shrill shrieks from the passing steamer, the usual
signal that a boat was wanted to land some stray passenger. A couple
of boats were pushed out from the beach, and half a dozen men, with
red-peaked caps and a certain picturesque nonchalance in their attire,
scrambled into them and soon surrounded the gangway of the steamer.
First some large trunks and boxes were lowered, showing that the
passenger, whoever he might be, was a person of distinction,--an
impression which was still further confirmed by the appearance of a
tall, dark-skinned man, followed by a woolly-headed creature of a
truly Satanic complexion, who created a profound sensation among the
boatmen. Then the steamer shrieked once more, the echoes began a
prolonged game of hide-and-seek among the snow-hooded peaks, and the
boats slowly ploughed their way over the luminous mirror of fjord.

"Is there any farm here, where my servant and myself can find lodgings
for the summer?" said the traveller, turning to a young peasant lad.
"I should prefer to be as near to the glacier as possible."

He spoke Norwegian, with a strong foreign accent, but nevertheless
with a correct and distinct enunciation.

"My father, Tharald Ormgrass, lives close up to the ice-field,"
answered the lad. "I shouldn't wonder if he would take you, if you
will put up with our way of living."

"Will you accompany me to your father's house?"

"Yes, I guess I can do that." (_Ja, jeg kan nok det_.)

The lad, without waiting for further summons, trotted ahead, and the
traveller with his black servant followed.

Maurice Fern (for that was the stranger's name) was, as already
hinted, a tall, dark-complexioned man, as yet slightly on the sunny
side of thirty, with a straight nose, firm, shapely mouth, which was
neither sensual nor over-sensitive, and a pair of clear dark-brown
eyes, in which there was a gleam of fervor, showing that he was not
altogether incapable of enthusiasm. But for all that, the total
impression of his personality was one of clear-headed decision and
calm energy. He was a man of an absorbing presence, one whom you would
have instinctively noticed even in a crowd. He bore himself with that
unconscious grace which people are apt to call aristocratic, being
apparently never encumbered by any superfluity of arms and legs. His
features, whatever their ethnological value might be, were, at all
events, decidedl