Fred saw a foaming rapid before him. He became anxious. It was dangerous to venture down this. If he should touch a rock on the way down, the chances were that he would get a limb broken. The banks here were so thickly covered with bushes that it was impossible to pass. The fish still held on its headlong course. “What shall I do?” thought Fred. “If I stop he will break all to pieces, and I shall lose him. Lose him! no, never!”

“Don’t venture in, Fred,” shrieked Sam Sorrel.

But the advice came too late. Fred was already in the foaming current. In a moment he was swept down into the comparatively still water below the rapid. His friends lost sight of him, for they had to run round through the bushes. When they got to the foot of the rapid, they found Fred on the bank, panting violently, and holding tight to the rod, for the salmon had stopped there, and was now “sulking” at the bottom of a deep hole. For a full hour did the fisher labour to pull him out of that hole in vain; for in this kind of fishing nothing can be done by main force. The great beauty of the art consists in getting the salmon to move, and in humouring his movements, so that you tire him out, and get him gradually close to your side.

At last the fish came out of the deep pool. Then there was another short struggle of quarter of an hour, and the fisher’s perseverance and skill were rewarded. The salmon at last turned up its silvery side. Fred drew it slowly to the bank (in breathless anxiety, for many a fish is lost at this point). Hans struck the gaff in neatly, and with a huge effort flung it floundering on the bank, amid the hearty cheers of all present.

This salmon weighed 34 pounds, and was about four feet long! It was a magnificent fish, and it may well be believed that Fred Temple did not grudge the two hours’ battle, and the risk that he had run in the catching of it.

Chapter Ten. Conclusion

“Sam Sorrel,” said Fred Temple one day to his friend while they were seated at breakfast in the house of a farmer of the Nord Fiord, “we have been here more than a fortnight now; we have enjoyed ourselves much, have had good sport of various kinds, and have laid in a stock of health and wisdom, it is to be hoped, that will last us for some time to come.”

“That sounds very much like the beginning of a formal speech,” said Grant.

“Hold your tongue, Grant,” retorted Temple, “I have not yet done. As I have said, we have been successful in gaining the ends for which we came here. We have seen the sun rise without setting. Sam Sorrel has filled a large portfolio with beautiful sketches of, perhaps, the finest scenery in Europe. Grant has shot and stuffed I am afraid to say how many birds of all kinds, besides making a large collection of rare plants; and Fred Temple has caught about five hundred pounds’ weight of salmon—not to mention hundreds of trout—”

“Good,” said Sam, “and very correctly stated. You are fit for the House of Commons, my friend.”

“Sam, be silent!—Now this being the case, it is time that we should think of returning to our native land. I will, therefore, make arrangements for setting sail in two or three days. But before leaving I will bring to a point a little plot which I have been hatching ever since I landed in Norway. I won’t tell you what it is just yet, but I must have your help, Sam.”

“Command my services, sir,” said Sam, with a wave of his hand. “I am your servant, your Eastern slave, ready, if need be, to prostrate myself in the earth and rub my nose in the dust.”

“Good. I accept your offer,” said Fred, “and my first command is, that you take your brushes and paint me a Norwegian bride in the course of this forenoon!”

“Why, your orders cannot be obeyed,” cried Sam in surprise. “Where am I to find a bride on such short notice? You are more unreasonable than the most tyrannical of sultans.”

“Nevertheless,” replied Fred calmly, “I issue my commands, and in order to relieve your mind of anxiety, I will find a bride for you.”

“Where, then, is this bride, O wizard?” asked Sam with a laugh.

“Behold her!” cried Fred, starting up and throwing open the door, from which could be seen the shore and the fiord with its background of noble hills.

Sam and Grant started up with sudden exclamations, and stared at the object which met their gaze in speechless wonder. And truly there was cause for astonishment; for there, on the shore, close to the water’s edge, stood the fair Raneilda, clothed in the gorgeous costume of a Norwegian bride.

“Assuredly you are a wizard,” cried Grant, glancing at his friend.

“Not so,” replied Fred. “I met sweet Raneilda last night at her father’s cottage, and begged of her to come here at a certain hour this morning in the costume of a bride, in order that my friend the artist might paint her. She hesitated and blushed a good deal at first, but at length she agreed, and, as you see, is punctual in keeping her appointment.”

Fred now went down to Raneilda, and brought her up to the house; Sam Sorrel at once placed her in a good position, seized his brushes, and began the portrait.

He was delighted with the dress, for it glittered with gold and silver ornaments. The crown was of pure silver covered with gold. The breastplate was red cloth ornamented with silver-gilt brooches, beads of various colours, silver chains, and small, round looking-glasses. There was also a belt ornamented with gold and silver. Altogether Raneilda looked much more like the Queen of Norway than a poor peasant girl!

It is necessary to inform the reader that the greater part of this costume did not belong to the girl. In fact it did not belong to any one in particular. It is the custom in Norway for each district to have a marriage-dress for general use. The crown, the breastplate, and the belt are public property, and may be hired out by the girls who are about to be married at a few shillings for each occasion.

While Sam was busy with his portrait, Grant went out to search for plants, and Fred went off to search for Hans and to carry out the remainder of his plot. He soon found the young pilot.

“Hans,” said he, “follow me, I wish to speak with you.”

Hans was quite willing to follow Fred to the moon if he had chosen to lead the way.

“I am going to show you a very pretty sight, Hans; step this way. Here, in this room.”

He threw open the door and led him in. The young Norseman entered with a smile, but the smile suddenly vanished, his blue eyes opened to their utmost width, and he stood rooted to the floor, unable to speak!

“Tuts! what means this?” cried Sam in disgust at being interrupted.

“Raneilda!” gasped her lover.

The bride covered her face with her hands.

“Very good! excellent!” exclaimed Grant who chanced to pass at the moment, and peeped in at the open window.

“Hurrah!” cried Bob Bowie, who just then came up to announce that the Snowflake was ready for sea.

“She won’t be wanted for some days yet,” cried Fred bursting into a fit of laughter as he seized Hans by the arm, dragged him into another room, and shut the door.

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