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sure,” replied Hulda. “His face is very unprepossessing, and I shall be very much surprised if there is a noble soul concealed under such a repulsive exterior.”

“Come, come, little sister, it will not do to judge people by outward appearances,” exclaimed Joel. “Don’t be so suspicious, Hulda, and cheer up. Ole will soon be with us, and we will scold him roundly for having kept us waiting.”

The rain having ceased the pair left the hut and started up the path leading to the inn.

“By the way, I must go away again tomorrow, little sister,” said Joel.

“Go away again tomorrow!” 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 tomorrow.”

“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 tomorrow 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!”

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 karjol. This, like all karjolen, had but one seat, but the worthy man was so large that he had been obliged to have his karjol 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 karjol.

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 karjol 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 narrower, the gay rivulets were transformed into foaming torrents, and though the road wound in and out it could not avoid all the inequalities of the ground. Beyond came really dangerous passes, through which Joel guided the vehicle with no little skill; besides, with him Hulda feared nothing. When the road was very rough she clung to his arm, and the freshness of the morning air brought a glow to the pretty face which had been unusually pale for some time.

But it was necessary for them to ascend to still greater heights, for the valley here contracted into merely a narrow channel for the passage of the river, a channel enclosed on either side by massive walls of rock. Over the neighboring fields were scattered a few dilapidated farmhouses, the remains of soeters, which were now abandoned, and a few shepherd’s huts almost hidden from view by clumps of birches and oaks. Soon it became impossible for them to see the river, though they could distinctly hear it dashing along in its rocky channel, and the country assumed an indescribably wild and imposing aspect.

A drive of two hours brought them to a rough sawmill perched upon the edge of a waterfall at least fifteen hundred feet in height. Waterfalls of this height are by no means rare in the Vesfjorddal, but the volume of water is usually small. This is not the case with the falls of the Rjukanfos however.

On reaching the sawmill, Joel and Hulda both alighted.

“A half hour’s walk will not be too much for you, will it, little sister?” asked Joel.

“No, brother; I am not tired, and a little exercise will do me good.”

“It will be a good deal instead of a little, for you will have some pretty hard climbing to do.”

“I can cling to your arm, Joel.”

It was evident that the karjol must be abandoned at this point, for it would be impossible for it to make its way through the rough paths, the narrow passes, and over the big, fantastically shaped rocks that heralded the close proximity of the great falls.

Already, they could see in the distance a thick mist, the spray from the seething waters of Rjukan.

Hulda and Joel took a shady path which is well known to guides, and which leads to the end of the valley. A few moments afterward they found themselves upon a moss-covered rock almost in front of the fall. In fact there was no chance of getting any nearer to it on that side.

The brother and sister would have had considerable difficulty in making themselves heard if they had wished to speak; but their thoughts were those that could be exchanged without the agency of the lips.

The volume of the Rjukan fall is enormous, its height very considerable, and its

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