, little sister," said
Joel.

"Go away again to-morrow!" repeated Hulda.

"Yes, early in the morning. On leaving the Hardanger I was informed
by a comrade that a traveler, coming from the north by way of the
Rjukanfos would arrive to-morrow."

"Who is this traveler?"

"I don't know his name, but I must be on hand to conduct him to Dal."

"Ah, well! go, then, as there is no help for it," replied Hulda, with
a sigh.

"Yes, I must start to-morrow at sunrise. Do you really feel so badly
about it, Hulda?"

"Yes, brother, I feel much more unhappy when you leave me, even if it
is only for a few hours."

"Ah, well, this time I shall not go alone."

"Why, who is to accompany you?"

"You, little sister. You need diversion, and I am going to take you
with me."

"Oh, thank you, Joel, thank you!"

CHAPTER VIII.

The brother and sister left the inn at sunrise the next morning. The
fifteen mile walk from Dal to the celebrated falls of the Rjukan,
and back again, was a mere trifle for Joel, but it was necessary to
economize Hulda's strength, so Joel hired foreman Lengling's kariol.
This, like all kariols, had but one seat, but the worthy man was so
large that he had been obliged to have his kariol built to order, and
this being the case the vehicle was large enough to enable Hulda
and Joel to sit side by side quite comfortably; and if the expected
tourist was waiting for them at Rjukanfos as they anticipated, he
could take Joel's place and the latter could either return afoot or
mounted upon the step behind the kariol.

The road from Dal to the falls is very rough but indescribably
charming. It is really rather a footpath than a road. The bridges
across the countless streams that dance merrily along to the Maan are
all constructed of unhewn logs, but the Norwegian horse traverses them
with a sure step, and though the kariol has no springs, its long and
slightly elastic shafts soften the jolting at least to some extent.

The day was charming, and Hulda and Joel drove along at a brisk pace
through the flowery fields, bathed on the left by the clear waters of
the Maan. Clumps of birches here and there shaded the sunny road, and
the dew still glittered on the blades of grass. To the right of the
torrent towered the snow-clad summit of the Gousta, which rises to an
altitude of six thousand feet.

For nearly an hour, the vehicle moved on rapidly, the ascent being
comparatively slight; but soon the valley became