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The hotel was in the vicinity of Charing Cross, and the two boys obtained an elegant apartment looking down on the busy street. They were glad to rest over Sunday, only going out in the morning to attend services at one of the great churches.

"Well, Dave, now you are here, how are you going to start to look for Nick Jasniff?" questioned Roger. "It seems to me that it will be a good deal like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"I am going to advertise and then try all the leading hotels," was the answer. "I have a list of them here. If you want to help, you can visit one group of them while I visit another."

The senator's son was willing, and they started off without delay. During the day Dave rode around to exactly twenty-two places, but at each hostelry was met with the reply that no such person as Nicholas Jasniff had registered there.

"One day wasted," he sighed, but altered his opinion when he rejoined his chum.

"Jasniff was at the Hotel Silverin," said Roger. "But he left there a little over two weeks ago."

"Did he leave any directions for forwarding mail?"

"Yes, here is the address." The senator's son drew a notebook from his pocket. "43, Pulford Road, Noxham."

"Let us look up the place," went on Dave, eagerly, and got out his map of London and its suburbs. It was in the northern end of the metropolis, and they found a railway running in that direction.

"We can't go to-night very well, but we can try it the first thing in the morning," said Dave; and so it was decided.

On arriving in the vicinity of 43, Pulford Road, the two youths found the neighborhood anything but first-class. The houses were old and dirty-looking and had about them a general air of neglect.

"What do you want?" demanded the tall and angular woman who answered their summons at the door.

"Good-morning, madam," said Dave, politely. "I am looking for a young gentleman named Nicholas Jasniff. I believe he boards here."

"Oh, so that's it," said the woman. She eyed Dave and Roger in a suspicious manner. "Who told you he was boarding here?"

"We heard so down at our hotel."

"He isn't here--he went away last week--owing me one pound six," was the spiteful answer. "I wish I had my hands on him. It's Kate Clever would teach him a lesson, the scamp!"

"So he ran away owing you some board money?" said Roger.

"He did that."

"And you haven't any idea where he is?"

"I have and I haven't. Are you friends of his?"

"Not exactly, but we wish very much to find him."

"I am not the one to do him a favor--after him treating me so shabbily," said the woman, spitefully.

"You'll not be doing him a favor," returned Dave. "To tell you the truth, I want to catch him for some other wrong he's been doing."

"Oh, that's it, is it?" The woman became more interested. "You are from the States, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"He was from the States. He pretended that he wasn't, but I knew differently. He got letters from America--I saw one of them."

"And where did he go, if you please?" asked Dave.

The tall woman drew up her angular shoulders and pursed up her thin lips.

"If you'll pay that board money I'll help you to find him."

"Very well, if we find him I'll pay you the one pound and six shillings," answered Dave. He did not wish to waste time that might be valuable.

"Come in the parlor and I'll tell you what I know," said Kate Clever.

They entered the little musty and dusty parlor, with its old haircloth furniture and its cheap bric-a-brac. The woman dusted two of the chairs with her apron and told them to be seated.

"I am a poor widow," she explained. "I have to make my living by taking boarders. This Jasniff paid me only one week's board. He said he expected to get some money, but while I was waiting he took his bag and box and slipped away one day when I was to market."

"I thought he had plenty of money," said Roger. "He ran away with enough."

"Ran away with enough? Was he a thief?"

"Yes."

"O dear! Then I am glad he is out of my house. Really! we might all have been murdered in our beds!" And the woman held up her thin hands in horror.

After that she told what she could of Nick Jasniff. She said he had spent a good part of his time, both day and night, down in the heart of London, visiting the theaters and other places of amusement. Once he had complained of being robbed of his pocketbook on a tram-car, and again he had lost himself in Cheapside and fallen in with some thugs who had tried to carry him into an alleyway. In the fight that followed he had had an eye blackened and the sleeve torn from his coat. She had sewed on the sleeve again, but he had paid her nothing for the work.

"He spoke once of visiting an old friend named Chesterfield, who lived in Siddingate," said the woman. "He said he might meet his father there. Maybe if you can find this Chesterfield you'll find him."

"We can try, anyway," answered Dave. "Is that all you can tell about him?"

"I don't know of much else, Mr.---- I haven't learned your name yet."

"My name is David Porter. This is my friend Roger Morr."

"Porter? Why, I've heard that name somewhere." The woman mused for a moment. "Why, yes, Nicholas Jasniff had a friend by that name--a gentleman much older than you."

"A friend!" gasped Dave. "Oh, that can't be true, Mrs. Clever!"

"Well, I heard him say something about a man named Porter. They had met somewhere--I think in London. The man had a daughter named Laura, and I think this Jasniff had been calling upon her."

CHAPTER XVI

SOME IMPORTANT INFORMATION

Dave felt like groaning when he heard Mrs. Clever's words. Then what Jasniff had written in the letter to Gus Plum was true--he had met Mr. Porter and Laura. Had he tried to set himself up as a friend? It was more than likely.

"And father and Laura don't know what a rascal he is," Dave murmured to his chum. "Oh, I feel as if I could wring his neck! For all I know, he has been making himself agreeable to my sister. Isn't it enough to make one's blood boil?"

"It certainly is, Dave. But I fancy your sister will soon be able to size up such a fellow as Jasniff."

"Perhaps, although he can be very oily when he wants to be. Oh, if only I knew where my folks were!" sighed the boy from the country.

Mrs. Clever could tell nothing more about Nick Jasniff or about the Porters. But she promised to send Dave word if she heard anything, and seeing that she was poor Dave paid her the money out of which Jasniff had swindled her, about six dollars and a half. Then the two youths took their departure, stating they might call again.

"Let me know beforehand," said Mrs. Clever, "and I'll treat you handsome-like." She offered them some cakes and ale, but they politely declined the refreshments.

From the woman they learned the easiest way to reach Siddingate, and arrived at that London suburb shortly after the dinner-hour. Here they procured a hearty meal at the leading hotel and from a directory learned that six Chesterfields lived in that vicinity--one an ironmonger, otherwise a hardware dealer; another a draper, that is, a dry-goods merchant; and a third a stoker, which meant that he was a locomotive fireman. The other three were not put down as in business.

"I don't think we'll try to hunt up the stoker," said Dave. "Most likely he's off on a run. We can try the storekeepers and then the others."

The ironmonger, a burly, red-faced man, had never heard of Jasniff, but the draper, while he did not know anybody of that name, said that one of the other Chesterfields, whose first name was Philip, had some relatives in the United States, including some folks who were now traveling either in England or Scotland.

"Thank you; we'll hunt him up," said Dave. "Where does he live?"

"Any cabman can tell you," was the answer. "Better ride out--it's a cold walk."

It was cold, with the snow covering the ground to the depth of two inches or more. The air was very raw, and a regular London fog was settling down over the land.

A cabman was readily found, and inside of a few minutes they were on their way to the Philip Chesterfield estate. From the driver they learned that this Chesterfield was an old man, rather peculiar in his ways, and that he entertained visitors but seldom.

"It would be queer for Nick Jasniff to visit such a man," remarked Dave. "But I don't want to let any chance of locating him slip by."

"Nick may be glad enough to get a roof over his head, if his money is gone," answered Roger.

The cab presently turned up a side road and approached the stone wall of a fair-sized estate, the mansion of which stood back in a patch of old trees. As they entered the gateway Dave saw a door open and a boy came out on a veranda.

"There he is!" he gasped. "There is Nick now!"

"You're right!" exclaimed the senator's son. "This is luck, and no mistake."

As the cab came closer Nick Jasniff gazed at it curiously, to see whom it might contain. Not to be recognized too quickly, Dave kept his face averted and cautioned his chum to do the same.

"Say! I say----" began the youth who had run away, when Dave leaped out and confronted him. "Whe--where did you come from?"

"From Oak Hall," answered Dave, coolly. "I fancy you didn't expect to see me so soon, Jasniff."

"Humph!" The runaway boy did not know what to say. "I--er---- Been following me up, I suppose?"

"I have."

"You didn't expect me, did you?" put in Roger, with a grin.

"I didn't," growled Nick Jasniff. "Any more?" and he gazed anxiously into the cab, half expecting an officer of the law to put in an appearance.

"No more just now," said Dave, with peculiar emphasis.

"What do you want?" Jasniff was gradually regaining his self-possession.

"I want a whole lot of things," answered Dave. "Do you want to do your talking here or in the house?" And he glanced at the cab driver, who was staring at the boys with his mouth open in curiosity.

"You can come in, if you wish," was the awkward answer; and Nick Jasniff led the way into the old mansion, which was semi-dark and not more than half warmed. "Do you know who lives here?" he continued.

"Your relative, Philip Chesterfield," answered Roger.

"Humph! He's a great-uncle of mine and very old. He is down with gout. Come into the library. We needn't disturb him."

They filed into the apartment mentioned, a long, low room, the walls of which were lined with shelves filled with musty volumes. Dave kept his eyes on Jasniff, and this the runaway noticed.

"Think I'm going to skip?" he queried, sourly.

"I'll not give you the chance," was the ready answer.

"You think you've got me foul, don't you?"

"Doesn't it look like it?"

"You can't make me go back to the United States."

"Perhaps I can."

"My folks have settled up that Pud Frodel affair for me--did it only a few days ago."

"But they didn't settle up with Mrs. Clever. She was swindled out of some board money."

"I--er--I was going to send her that money to-day."

"Then you had better pay me, for I settled the account," answered Dave. "But let us drop this talk for the present, Jasniff. I want you to tell me all you know about my father and my sister."

"Humph! I haven't got to tell you anything if I don't want to."

"Yes, you have got to!" cried Dave. A dangerous gleam came into his eyes. "Out with it at once. Where is my father?"

"See here, Porter, I don't propose to be bullied. I----"

"You answer my question, Nick Jasniff. If you don't I'll call in an officer at once and have you placed under arrest."

"You can't do it."

"I can and will. If I can't have you held on one charge I'll have you held on another. I want the truth from you, and I want it right away."

Dave had followed Nick Jasniff to a window, and faced the runaway with such sternness and determination that the latter cowed before him.

"I--er--that is, your father went north, last week."

"Where to?"

"He said he was going to Christiania, Norway."

"Christiania, Norway?" repeated Dave. He knew there was such a place, but that was all. "What for?"

"Oh, he was interested in an expedition that was going to the upper interior--some kind of a scientific expedition, I think. He was full of it--said they hoped to make all kinds of discoveries."

"Whose expedition was it?"

"It was gotten up by two men named Lapham and Hausermann."

"I read about that expedition!" cried Roger. "There was an account of it in this morning's _Times_."

"When was it to start?" asked Dave, anxiously.

"I don't know."

"Do you know, Jasniff?"

"Not exactly--some time this week, I think."

"Was my sister Laura going with my father?" went on Dave, anxiously.

"No."

"Where is she?"

"I give it up."

"Jasniff, tell me the truth!" And again Dave looked at the runaway sternly.

"I don't know where she is."

"You met her."

"Certainly--half a dozen times."

"How did you get acquainted with my folks?"

"Oh, I met them by accident, and as soon as I learned who they were I introduced myself and said I knew your uncle Dunston Porter."

"What did you say about me?" and now Dave was more anxious than ever.

"I--er--I----"

"Come, out with it, and tell the exact truth, Jasniff, or it will be the worse for you."

"I--er--I didn't mention you," stammered the runaway. He could scarcely bring himself to speak the words.

"You didn't!"

"What! do you mean to say you met Mr. Porter and his daughter and didn't let them know that Dave was alive and that he was looking for them?" demanded Roger.

"It wasn't my business to tell them," answered Jasniff, doggedly.

"Nick Jasniff, you are the meanest fellow I ever met in my whole life!" burst out the senator's son. "For two pins I'd give you the worst thrashing you ever received. Didn't you know how happy it would make Mr. Porter and his daughter to know that Dave was alive?"

"I--er--that wasn't my business. Dave was no friend of mine--why should I put myself out to do him a good turn? If he wants to find his father and his sister let him do it."

"Did you become well acquainted with my sister?" asked Dave, after a pause.

"Fairly well, yes."

"Did you take her out anywhere?"

"No--er--she wouldn't go with me."

"I am glad to hear it. You say you have no idea where she is now?"

"Not exactly. There was an American family named Endicott over here. They came from somewhere out West. They had a daughter about Laura's age, and the two were chums. I think your sister sailed with the Endicotts for the States."

"Did they write to my uncle?"

"I don't know, but I think not, for they thought your uncle was still knocking around the South Sea Islands."

"And you wouldn't tell them a word!" cried Dave, bitterly. "Jasniff, I never supposed any fellow could be so cruel and hard-hearted."

"Humph! I haven't forgotten what I had to suffer," muttered the runaway.

"You brought all that on yourself. You had no business to go in with those two thieves. If you had remained honest there would have been no call for you to run away."

"Oh, don't preach, Dave Porter."

"What Dave says is true, Jasniff," said Roger. "If you have suffered, it is all through your own dishonesty."

"Who says a relative of mine is dishonest!" came a loud, harsh voice from the doorway of the library, and turning quickly Dave and Roger found themselves confronted by an old man, white with sudden rage, and brandishing a heavy cane in his hand.

CHAPTER XVII

ON THE NORTH SEA

Both Dave and his chum were startled by the sudden interruption, and for the moment did not know what to say. They looked at the old man and then at Nick Jasniff. The latter turned pale and seemed thoroughly ill at ease.

"Who says a relative of mine is dishonest?" repeated the old man, and now he strode up to Dave and raised the cane over the youth's head.

"If you refer to this boy as your relative, I say he is dishonest," answered Dave, stoutly.

"And so do I," added the senator's son.

"Nicholas dishonest! It cannot be! There must be some mistake."

"I am sorry for you, sir, but there is no mistake," returned Dave.

"Who are you, sir?"

"My name is David Porter. I come from the United States. Nicholas and myself and my friend here all attended the same boarding school."

"The place called Oak Hall?"

"Yes, sir. I presume you are Mr. Philip Chesterfield."

"I am, and I am a great-uncle to Nicholas." The old man lowered his cane. "What do you know of Nicholas?" he questioned, curiously.

"I know a great deal, Mr. Chesterfield. If you care to hear the story I will tell it to you."

"Don't you listen to him, Uncle Phil," stormed Nick Jasniff, in increasing fear. "He'll tell you nothing but a bundle of lies."

"I can prove every statement I make," answered Dave.

"Dave will tell you nothing but the truth," added Roger.

"Who are you, young man?"

"My name is Roger Morr."

"He is the son of United States Senator Morr," added Dave.

"Ah, indeed!" The fact that Roger's father occupied a high political position seemed to have considerable effect on Philip Chesterfield.

"They are a couple of fakirs!" cried Nick Jasniff. He knew not what else to say.

"Nicholas, be silent. I will listen to their story, and then you can have your say."

"If you are going to listen to them, I'll get out," stormed the runaway, and edged for the door.

"No, you don't; you'll stay here!" exclaimed Dave, and blocked the way. "I came all the way from America to catch you, and you are not going until I get through with you."

A brief war of words followed, which came to an end when the old gentleman locked the door. Then he had Dave and Roger tell their tale in full, after which he asked a number of questions. Nick Jasniff wanted to break into the conversation a number of times, but was not permitted to do so.

"Nicholas, if this is true, you are a young scoundrel, and I do not want you in my house another day!" exclaimed Philip Chesterfield. "I shall send a telegram to your father at once, asking him to come on."

"Where is Mr. Jasniff?" asked Dave.

"In Italy--he went there for his wife's health."

"Did Nicholas tell you anything about my folks?" went on Dave.

"Nothing excepting that he had met a Mr. Porter and his daughter, and that the father had sailed for Norway and the daughter for the States."

"Then that news must be true," said Roger. "Dave, the best thing you can do is to go to Christiania at once."

"Exactly my way of thinking, Roger."

"And about Nick----?"

"You shan't do anything to me!" roared the runaway. "I won't stand for it."

"I shall notify the authorities in America where you are," answered Dave. "Then they can do as they please in the affair."

A little later Dave and Roger left the mansion, Philip Chesterfield bidding them a formal good-bye. Nick Jasniff was sullen and looked as if he wanted to kill both boys.

"He'll get back at us some day, if he can," observed the senator's son, as they drove back to Siddingate.

Arriving at the town, the two youths took the first train back to London proper. Here they found that to get to Christiania they would have to take a train to Hull and from there try to obtain passage on some vessel bound for the Norwegian capital.

"It's only a four hours' ride to Hull," said Dave, consulting a time-table. "I can get there to-night, if I wish."

"All right, let us take the first train."

"Do you want to go to Hull to see me off, Roger?"

"I am not going to see you off, Dave."

"What do you mean?"

"I am going with you--if you'll have me."

"To Norway?"

"Sure--anywhere."

"But what will your folks say?"

"They won't mind--so long as I keep out of trouble. I told father we might go further than England."

"I'll be pleased to have you along."

They settled up at the hotel, and quarter of an hour later were at the station. At the "booking office," as it is called in England, they procured tickets for seats in a first-class coach, and soon the train came along.

"It seems funny to be locked up in such a coach as this," remarked Dave. "I must say, I like our style of open car best."

They were soon leaving the smoky and foggy city of London behind and rushing northward. Only two stops were made, one at Leicester and the other at Sheffield.

"Here is where the celebrated Sheffield cutlery comes from," observed Roger, as the last stop was made. "If we were going to stop over I'd buy a pocket-knife for a souvenir."

"Remember, we must get some picture postals at Hull," answered Dave, who had not forgotten the promise made to Jessie. He had already sent her over a dozen cards.

Hull is one of the main seaports of England, and ship-building and sail-making are great industries there. In the harbor were a great many steamers and sailing vessels, bound for ports all over the world.

Dave was in a fever of anxiety. He had been unable to ascertain when the expedition in which his father was interested was to start northward from Christiania, and, as a consequence, he wanted to reach the Norwegian capital city with the least possible delay.

"It will be just my luck to arrive there after the expedition has left," he half groaned to his chum.

"Let us hope for the best, Dave."

As late as it was, the two youths skirmished around and finally learned that a steamer would leave Hull for Christiania two days later. On this they booked passage, and then Dave hurried to the nearest telegraph office and sent a cablegram to Christiania, addressed to his parent. The message ran as follows:

"Wait until I reach you. Your long-lost son,

"DAVID PORTER."

"That ought to hold him," said he to Roger.

"Of course it will--if he gets it, Dave."

The message sent, the two boys looked around for a hotel, and then obtained a decidedly late supper. When they retired, Roger slept "like a top," as he expressed it, but Dave lay awake for hours, wondering what the future held in store for him. Now that he seemed so close to his father he could scarcely wait for the time to come when they should meet face to face.

Roughly estimated, the distance from Hull to Christiania is about six hundred miles. As it was winter, the harbor of the Norwegian capital was frozen up, so the steamer could not go further than Drbak, a seaport eighteen miles south of the capital. Owing to the wintry weather Dave learned that it would take three full days to make the voyage.

It was not particularly cold on leaving Hull, but as soon as the steamer struck the full sweep of the winds on the North Sea the thermometer went down rapidly.

"Phew! but this is cold!" ejaculated Roger, as he buttoned his coat tightly. "It's like being down on the coast of Maine."

"Just wait until we get to Norway--there is where you'll find it cold," was Dave's reply. "Maybe we'll have to invest in fur overcoats."

"Well, I am willing," answered the senator's son, with a laugh.

Fortunately, both boys had been supplied with considerable cash and ample letters of credit, so that monetary matters did not bother them. Before leaving Hull, Dave supplied himself with an English-Danish Self-Educator, and on the ship both he and Roger studied the volume with interest.

"I want to know a few words," said the senator's son. "It is awful to be in a country when you're not able to speak a word of the language."

On the second day of the voyage the two boys got something of a scare. They heard an explosion and then a great cloud of steam spread over the vessel.

"Something has burst, that's certain!" cried Dave. "Let us go on deck and see what is wrong."

They hurried out on the main deck and there found a great number of passengers, all in a state of excitement. A few were on the point of leaping overboard, thinking the ship was going to sink. But the officers were cool and collected, and did all in their power to restore confidence.

"Nothing serious has occurred," was the announcement one of the officers made, in the presence of Dave and his chum. "A steam-pipe burst and one of the engineers was scalded, that is all. The pipe will be repaired as quickly as possible."

"Will this delay us much?" asked Dave.

"That I cannot say," was the answer.

The rest of the day passed quietly enough. The steamer moved along slowly, for the engines were badly crippled. Dave, thinking only of the time in which he might reach his destination, walked the deck impatiently.

"I'll wager this means another day," said he to his chum.

"More than likely," was the reply. "Well, since it can't be helped you'll have to make the best of it."

"Yes, I know, Roger, but I'd give almost anything to be in Christiania now."

"I can appreciate how you feel. I'd be the same way, if I were in your place, Dave," was the kindly answer of the senator's son.

That night a heavy snowstorm came on, and by morning all around the ship was completely shut out of sight. The steam-pipe had now been mended, but the engines had to be kept down at a low speed for fear of running into some other craft. The foghorn was blown constantly, and occasionally came an answering sound from another vessel. Once they ran close to a three-masted schooner, and then the bell on that ship was rung with a loud clamor.

"That was a narrow escape," said Dave, after the schooner had drifted from sight.

Towards night the snowstorm increased in violence. The wind piped merrily over the deck of the steamer and the boys were glad to remain inside. They turned in early, since there was nothing else to do.

Dave could not sleep at first, but presently dropped into a light doze. When he awoke he sat up with a start. He had heard a strange noise, but now all was silent. He called to Roger, but received no reply. Then he called again and got up and lighted the room.

"Roger, where are you?" he repeated, and then looked toward his chum's berth. To his amazement the berth was made up as if it had never been occupied, and Roger was gone.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN NORWAY AT LAST

There is no denying the fact that Dave was startled. It was one thing to have Roger missing, it was quite another to have his chum gone and have the berth made up as if it had never been occupied.

"He went to bed--I saw him go," muttered the boy from the country to himself. "Am I dreaming, or what can the matter be?"

The more Dave thought over the affair the more was he puzzled. As quickly as he could, he put on some of his clothing and slipped on his shoes. Then he opened the stateroom door and stepped out into the passageway leading to the main saloon.

There was a dim light burning outside, and nobody appeared to be in sight. Dave looked up and down the passageway eagerly, and even stepped to one of the corners. Then he walked to the main saloon, with its big sofas and easy-chairs, and its grand piano. Not a soul was in sight anywhere.

"Well, if this isn't the queerest yet," he murmured, and pinched himself, to make certain that he was not dreaming. He walked to one end of the saloon and then to the other, and then started for the stairs leading out on deck.

At that moment there came an extra-heavy gust of wind and the steamer rocked violently. Dave was thrown on his side and fell headlong over the end of a sofa. As he went down he heard several cries, one in a voice that sounded familiar to him.

"That must have been Roger," he told himself. "Where can he be?" And then he called out loudly: "Roger! Roger Morr! Where are you?"

The boat continued to toss and pitch, and now Dave had all he could do to keep his feet. When he reached the entrance to the main deck he was stopped by one of the under officers.

"Too rough to go out there."

"I am looking for my friend," answered Dave, and told of the disappearance of the senator's son.

"Perhaps he's walking in his sleep," suggested the officer.

"That may be it!" cried Dave. "Queer I didn't think of it. He told me he got up once in a great while."

"If he was walking in his sleep the lurching of the boat must have awakened him--if he cried out. Maybe he went back to his stateroom," continued the ship's official.

"I'll go back and see."

Not without some difficulty Dave returned to his stateroom. The steamer was pitching and tossing dreadfully, and the wind made a wild whistling sound overhead. He heard the overturning of a table or a chair and the crash of glassware.

"We are going to have a tough night of it," he reasoned. "Guess further sleep will be out of the question."

Hoping he would find his chum in the stateroom, Dave returned to the apartment. Here another surprise was in store for him. The door was locked from the inside. He rapped loudly several times.

"Hello! Who's there?" came in a sleepy voice.

"Roger, is that you? Let me in."

"Dave, I declare! Why, I thought you were in your berth."

The senator's son came to the door and opened it. Dave entered the stateroom, which was dark.

"Roger, where have you been?" he demanded.

"So you knew I went out, did you?" asked the senator's son, in a voice that showed he was vexed. "I thought I went out and came back without your knowing it. I thought you were still in your berth."

"I got up, made a light, and found you gone--and the berth made up as if you hadn't used it." Dave paused and looked at his chum, who had just lit up.

"Well--er--I might as well tell you. I must have been walking in my sleep," stammered Roger, and got red. "I'm as bad as Shadow Hamilton."

"Well, I hope you didn't steal anything, as he did," added Dave hastily, referring to an unfortunate incident already well known to my old readers.

"I don't think I did--but I don't know where I went."

"You made up your bed, too."

"Did I? That's queer."

"And you don't know where you went at all, Roger?"

"No, I haven't the slightest idea."

"Were you dreaming?"

"I think I was--I'm not sure. It was something about Nick Jasniff--he was trying to take something from me and I got afraid of him. That is all I can remember."

"I thought I heard you scream--when the vessel gave that awful lurch a few minutes ago."

"That woke me up, and I found myself in one of the passageways not far from here. I was dazed by the tumble I received, but got back here all right."

"After this you had better tie yourself to the bed," was Dave's final remark, and then he turned in again and the light was again extinguished.

But anything more than fitful dozes could not be had. The North Sea is well known for its violent storms during the winter months, and this one proved to be a "corker," as Dave called it afterwards. The waves were lashed into a tremendous fury, and some broke over the steamer's deck with terrific force, one carrying away a twenty-foot section of the forward rail. The high wind was accompanied by a snow that was as fine and hard as salt, and this sifted through every crack the windows and doors afforded.

"No port to-day," said Dave; and he was right. To run close to the Norwegian coast in such a high wind, and with so much snow flying, was dangerous, and they had to remain for twenty-four hours longer at the entrance to Christiania Fjord--_fjord_ being the local name for bay.

But at last the snow stopped coming down and the wind subsided a little, and the steamer headed up the bay to Drbak, located on the east shore of the harbor. Here there was a good deal of floating ice, and plowing among it were vessels of all kinds and sizes, all covered with ice and snow.

"It's wintry enough up here, goodness knows," remarked Roger. "I wonder how far north Christiania is?"

"I was looking it up on the map," answered Dave. "It is located about sixty degrees north, which is just about the latitude of the lower coast of Greenland."

"What, as far north as that! No wonder it is cold."

"Don't forget, Roger, that Norway is the Land of the Midnight Sun. At the far north they have a night lasting about three months."

"Well, I don't want such a night as that, just yet."

"No--you might do too much sleep-walking," and Dave grinned.

"Oh, cut that out!" and the face of the senator's son grew red.

"I shan't mention it again."

Drbak is but a small place, containing less than twenty-five hundred inhabitants, but during the winter all the shipping of the fjord congregates there, and as a consequence the scene was a lively one. The boys were quickly landed, and then from one of the dock officials learned where they could get a train running to the capital. Their baggage had been examined and passed upon by the usual custom officials.

"Well, this is certainly a second-rate railroad," was Dave's comment, as they seated themselves in the stuffy coach and had the door locked upon them. Then the train moved off at a slow rate of speed that was tantalizing to both. With half a dozen stops, it took them nearly an hour to reach Christiania, only eighteen miles away. Looking out of the window, the landscape was a dreary one, of marshland on one side and rocks on the other, all covered with ice and snow. The coach had no heat in it, and Roger declared that his feet were half frozen.

"Puts me in mind of the time I visited a lumber camp in upper Maine," he told his chum. "It was in the winter-time, and they only ran one train a day, of two cars, a freight and a combination of everything else. We were delayed on the road, almost snowed in, and I didn't thaw out for a week afterwards."

At the railroad station in Christiania they had some trouble passing the guard. Again their baggage was looked over, and they were taken to an office and asked a dozen or more questions by a man who looked as if he might be a police-inspector. What it was all about they could not make out, but at first the officer was not inclined to let them go.

"Perhaps you had better go back to where you came from," said the man to Dave.

"Why, what's the trouble?" demanded the youth. "I am sure I have done no wrong."

"What brought you to Norway?"

"I am looking for my father. His name is David Porter, like my own. He has joined the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition, bound for the interior of Norway."

"Exactly," and the officer looked wise. "Who is this young man?"

"This is my friend, Roger Morr. He is traveling with me for company."

"You are very young to be traveling alone."

"I can't help that. I want to find my father, and do it as soon as I can."

"Is he expecting you?"

"I don't know. I sent him a cablegram, but I do not know if he received it."

"That expedition--do you know anything about it?" asked the officer, shrewdly.

"No, sir--nothing more than what I saw in the English papers."

"Didn't your father tell you anything about it?"

"No, he couldn't." And Dave hesitated.

"Why?"

"Because--well, he doesn't know me--that is, he doesn't know I am alive."

"This is extraordinary, young man!" exclaimed the officer of the police, for such the man was. "I think you had better explain."

"I am in a great hurry, sir," pleaded Dave.

"He wants to catch his father before the expedition leaves Christiania," put in Roger.

"Before it leaves?"

"Yes."

The police official drew up his shoulders and made a wry face.

"Has it left already?" questioned Dave, eagerly.

"To be sure--four days ago," was the answer, which filled Dave's heart with fresh dismay.

CHAPTER XIX

OFF TO THE NORTHWARD

Dave and Roger were told to follow the police officer, and did so, to a large stone building, located on one of the principal streets of the Norwegian capital. As they walked along many gazed at the American boys with interest.

Conducted into a plainly furnished office, the boys were told to sit down. Then they were asked if they had any objection to their baggage being examined.

"Not the slightest," answered Dave, and Roger said the same.

"At the same time I wish you to understand one thing," went on Dave's chum. "I am the son of a United States senator, and if I have to suffer any indignity at your hands you'll hear from it later, through the proper authorities."

"A United States senator's son!" murmured the police official. "Ah!" He took a long breath. "I shall not detain you a second longer than is necessary, sir," he went on, more civilly.

After that Dave and Roger were asked a great number of additional questions, and Dave had virtually to tell his story from beginning to end. Several officials listened with interest, but whether they believed him or not the boy could not tell.

"I am afraid you will have hard work finding your parent," said the police officer, at the conclusion of the interview.

"He must have left some directions behind--for forwarding mail, and the like."

"Possibly, but I doubt it. The expedition was bound up into the mountains,--so it was said. The means of communication are very poor at this time of year."

The baggage was gone over with care, and the examination was evidently a disappointment to those who made it. A long talk in Norwegian followed between several police officials, and then Dave and Roger were told that they could go.

"Would you mind telling me what it is all about?" questioned Dave, when he was ready to leave.

"You will have to excuse me, but I am not permitted to answer that question," said the man who had brought them in, gravely. "If we have detained you without just cause, we are very sorry for it." And that was all he would say.

"It's mighty queer, to say the least," observed Roger, after they had taken their departure. "Dave, what do you make of it?"

"I think they took us to be some foreigners who had come to Norway for no good purpose. You must remember that throughout Europe they have great trouble with anarchists and with political criminals who plot all sorts of things against the various governments. Maybe they took us to be fellows who had come here to blow somebody up."

"They ought to know better than that. I don't think we look like anarchists."

"Since that uprising in Russia, and the attempt on the king in Italy, every nation over here looks with suspicion on all foreigners. But there is something else to it, I imagine," went on Dave, seriously. "Those fellows acted as if they didn't think much of this expedition which my father has joined. Maybe that is under suspicion, too."

"Yes, I noticed that--and if it is true, your father may have some trouble before he leaves Norway."

"I wish I could get to him at once. I could warn him."

From an Englishman on the steamer the boys had learned of a good hotel where English was spoken, and there they obtained a good room for the night. Before going to bed Dave mailed several postals to Jessie, and also a letter to his Uncle Dunston and another to Phil Lawrence, for the benefit of the boys at Oak Hall.

It was not difficult in Christiania to find out when the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition had left the capital, or what had been its first stopping-place. It had taken a railroad train to Pansfar and then gone northward to the mountain town of Blanfos--so called because of the waterfall in that vicinity--a waterfall being a _fos_ in the native tongue.

"I don't see anything to do but to journey to Blanfos," said Dave. "I presume it will be a mighty cold trip, and you needn't go if you don't wish to, Roger."

"Didn't I say I'd go anywhere you went--even if it's to the North Pole?" was the answer. "Come on,--I'm ready to start any time you are."

"I don't think we'll get to the North Pole, but we may get to the North Cape. But we can't start until we've got those fur overcoats we talked about."

At several of the shops in Christiania they procured all the additional clothing they thought they needed. Some of their lighter-weight stuff they left behind, not wishing to be encumbered with too much baggage. They booked for Pansfar at the railroad station, and by the middle of the afternoon of the second day in Norway were bound northward.

"There is that police official, watching us!" cried Roger, as the train was about to depart. He was right--the man was in sight, but he quickly lost himself in a crowd, and whether he got on the train or not they could not tell.

The train was but scantily filled, and only four people occupied the coach with the young Americans. One couple was evidently a newly married pair who had been on a wedding trip to Christiania, and they were very retired and shy. The other pair were a burgomaster and his wife, from some interior town. The burgomaster--who held a position similar to that of a mayor in an American city--wanted everybody to know who he was, and was thoroughly disagreeable. He crowded Dave into a corner until the youth could hardly get any air.

"I'll thank you not to crowd so much--there is plenty of room," said the boy.

The Norwegian did not understand, and continued to crowd the youth. Then Dave grew thoroughly angry and crowded back, digging his elbow well into the burgomaster's fat ribs. This caused the man to glare at the young American. Nothing daunted, Dave glared back.

"What do you do that for?" demanded the burgomaster, sourly.

"I don't speak Norwegian," answered Dave, brokenly, for that was one of the native phrases he had picked up. "But I want you to quit crowding me," he added, in English, and moved his elbows to show what he meant.

The burly Norwegian had supposed he would daunt Dave by his looks, and when he saw that the young American was unmoved he was nonplussed. He growled out something to his wife, who grumbled something in return. He did not budge, and Dave continued to hold his elbow well in the fellow's ribs. The situation had its comical side, and it was all Roger could do to keep from laughing.

"If you don't stop that, I'll have you put off the train!" roared the burgomaster.

As Dave did not understand, he said nothing.

A few minutes passed, and the train came to a halt and the door was unlocked. Nobody got out, but a round and ruddy-faced man got in and nodded to all those present.

"Guard! guard! Come here!" roared the burgomaster, but even as he spoke the door was closed and locked again, and the train moved off. Then of a sudden the Norwegian grabbed Dave by the shoulder.

"Let go there!" cried the youth, and took hold of the man's fat wrist. He gave such a tight squeeze that the burgomaster was glad enough to release his hold.

"I say, what's the matter here?" demanded the man who had just come in, and spoke in a distinctly English tone of voice.

"He's been shoving me into a corner and I told him to quit," answered Dave, glad to be able to make himself understood to somebody besides Roger.

The Englishman looked at the Norwegian and gave a grunt of disgust. "Can't you let the lad alone?" he demanded, in Norwegian. "He's not hurting you any, is he? What's the use of acting as if you owned the whole coach?"

The burgomaster attempted to answer, but the Englishman would scarcely listen. He liked Dave's looks, while he could readily see that the Norwegian was nothing but a bully. He said he didn't care if the man was a burgomaster, if Dave wasn't doing anything wrong he must be let alone, and a good deal more to the same effect. He and the Norwegian got into a spirited argument, but finally the burgomaster cooled down a bit, got up and bounced down on another seat, and his wife followed him.

"Some of these blooming chaps are as overbearing as they can be," remarked the Englishman, after matters had quieted down. "Now this fellow is the burgomaster of some small town up here in Norway, and on that account he thinks he can treat folks as he pleases. I am glad to know you stood up for your rights. Never let them walk over you. Old England every time, say I!" And he smiled broadly.

"I am much obliged to you for what you did," answered Dave, smiling back. "A fellow is at a disadvantage when he can't speak the language."

"That's true, lad. What part of our country do you come from?"

"I come from the United States, and so does my friend here," and the young American introduced himself and Roger.

"Well now, isn't that strange!" exclaimed the newcomer. "And I took you to be English lads sure. Well, next to being English I'd prefer to be an American. My name is Granbury Lapham."

"Granbury Lapham!" cried Dave, quickly. "Not the Lapham of the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition?"

"No, not exactly that, lad, but close to it. That Lapham is my brother Oscar. He is younger than I and daffy on the subject of investigations. As soon as I heard he had started for the mountains of Norway I came over to find out just what he was doing. I don't want him to investigate some high mountain in a snowstorm, fall over some precipice, and kill himself."

"You are going to join the expedition?"

"Yes, if I can find it. But what do you know about it?"

"I am going to join it also, and so is my friend," and then Dave had to give his reasons. Granbury Lapham listened with many a nod to the recital.

"I declare, Master Porter, it sounds like a six-shilling novel, don't you know," he said. "So you haven't ever seen this father of yours? Small wonder you're in a hurry to run across him. Well, I'll assist you all I can. I presume we had better travel together."

"With pleasure!" cried Dave, and he and the Englishman shook hands. Then Granbury Lapham told something of himself, and thus the time passed until Pansfar was reached. Here they got out, the burgomaster scowling after them as they departed.

The Englishman had visited Norway a number of times and spoke Danish and Norwegian very well. He led the way to a tavern, where all enjoyed a smoking-hot meal, with some steaming coffee.

"In the parts of Norway where there are no railroads the stage and sleigh lines, so called, are under the control of the government. The drivers are allowed to charge just so much for driving a person from one place to another, and the road-houses along the way are also subject to official control, and you can always get your meals for a stated price."

"I suppose a fellow can get extras," suggested Roger.

"Certainly--whatever you pay for," answered Granbury Lapham, with a laugh.

He said that the Lapham-Hausermann Expedition consisted of six members, including Mr. Porter. What the object was he did not particularly know, excepting that his brother wanted to gather information concerning the hardy plants of Norway. He knew the party were going to keep to what was known as the Sklovarak Highway as far as Fesfjor and then to a new road leading directly northward.

"I think the best thing we can do is to hire a good sleigh and a double team of horses," said the Englishman. "We'll want a good driver too, one who knows all the roads."

It took them until the next day to obtain just what they wanted. The sleigh was a commodious one, and in it they placed such things as the driver advised them to take along. Then, wrapped in fur overcoats and wearing fur caps, they set off, on a tour that was destined to be filled with not a few perils and strange adventures.

CHAPTER XX

AN ENCOUNTER WITH WOLVES

"Well, this is certainly a strange Christmas day!"

It was Dave who spoke. He stood in the doorway of a small log hut, gazing anxiously out at the landscape before him.

He was in the very heart of Norway, and on every side loomed the mountains with their covering of ice and snow. Just behind the hut was a patch of firs, the only trees growing in that vicinity. In front was what in summer was a mountain torrent, now a mass of irregular ice, the hollows filled with snow.

The party had arrived at this place the night before, after four days of almost constant traveling. But here a blinding snowstorm had brought them to a halt, the driver of the sleigh refusing to trust himself and his turnout on the mountain trail beyond.

"It is a bad road," said he to Granbury Lapham, in Norwegian. "A slip and a slide and we should all be killed. We must wait until the storm is over." And so they put up at this hut by the roadside, and the horses were stabled in a cow-shed in the rear.

The four days of traveling in the heart of Norway had been full of interest to Dave and Roger. They had passed through half a dozen towns and as many more villages, and had met not a few people on the road, some dressed like ordinary Europeans and others in the bright-colored clothing of their forefathers. They had had "all kinds of meals, mostly bad," as Dave declared, and both boys longed for some "United States cooking," as Roger said. But one thing pleased them--wherever they slept the beds were good and the rooms as clean as wax.

Up to the day previous they had heard a number of times about the scientific expedition, which was said to be just ahead. But then somebody had sent them astray, and in trying to get on the right road they had been caught in the snowstorm and been forced to take to the shelter as described.

"Too bad, Dave; especially when you hoped to meet your father by Christmas," said Roger. "But shut the door--it is too cold for comfort out there."

"I opened it to get a whiff of fresh air,--it's vile inside, when the cooking is going on--they use so much fat for frying."

The hut was the property of a sturdy mountaineer, who possessed half a dozen cows and a large flock of sheep. He was a big fellow, all of six feet four inches high, with yellowish hair and bright blue eyes. He was generally good-natured, but the boys once saw him give his oldest son a box on the ear that sent the youngster rolling over and over on the floor.

"He's got a hand on him like a ham," remarked the senator's son. "I shouldn't want him to strike me."

"Most of these Norwegian mountain folks are big and strong," said Granbury Lapham. "I fancy the puny ones die off young."

"What do they do for a living? They can't farm much around here," said Dave.

"They raise sheep, goats, and cows, and a good many of them are wood-choppers. Norwegian lumber is a great thing in the market, and of late years the paper mills are after wood-pulp, which they get from the small growth. Along the coast nearly all the inhabitants are fishermen."

The family of the hut-owner consisted of his wife and seven children. For Christmas dinner there were a hare potpie, carrots and onions, and a pudding with honey sauce. The children had a Christmas tree, brought in by their father from the forest, and this was decorated with fancy-colored papers, and rings, stars and animals, all made of a kind of ginger and spice dough and baked by the housewife. There were a few presents, and the boys and Granbury Lapham added to these by giving the children each a small silver piece, which delighted them hugely.

"I'll wager they are having a fine dinner at the Wadsworth home," said Dave, with a sigh. In his mind's eye he could see Jessie, his Uncle Dunston, and all the others, making merry around the board.

"Don't mention it, Dave," answered his chum. "We generally have a bang-up time, too."

"What I miss most of all is my plum-pudding, don't you know," remarked Granbury Lapham. "I've had plum-pudding for Christmas ever since I was a baby."

"I'd like to know how my father is faring."

"And my brother," added the Englishman.

"Well, we are bound to catch up to them soon, so don't let us worry about it any more," said the senator's son, cheerfully.

The mountaineer was something of a huntsman, and showed the boys his shotgun, a weapon they considered rather antiquated, yet one capable of doing good service.

"He says he once brought down a bear with that gun," said Granbury Lapham. "It must have been at close quarters, for, as I understand it, a Norway bear is a pretty tough creature to kill."

"Do they have many wild animals up here?" questioned Roger, with interest.

"They have, besides bears, a good many wolves, some lynxes, and also red deer, reindeer, hares, and a variety of small animals."

"We must go out hunting before we leave Norway!" cried Roger, who liked the sport very much.

"All right, I'm willing," answered Dave. "But I should like to find my father first," he added, hastily.

"Oh, of course."

The evening of Christmas Day was spent in watching the children around the decorated tree, which was lit up with a dozen or more tiny candles, of home production. Then the boys turned in and Granbury Lapham followed.

About the middle of the night came a great disturbance, and in a minute the household was in an uproar. They heard the mountaineer call to his wife, and then, lantern in hand, he rushed outside and toward the sheepfold, back of the cow-shed.

"Some wolves have gotten among the sheep," explained Granbury Lapham, after a few words with the woman of the hut. "The man is going after them with his gun."

"Let us see if we can aid him!" exclaimed Roger, and slipped on such of his clothing as he had taken off. He had a loaded pistol in his pocket.

"If you go out, I'll go too," answered Dave, and followed his chum to the rear of the hut. He, too, had a pistol, purchased before going on the journey in the sleigh, and now he looked to see that the weapon was in condition for use.

Outside, they heard the mountaineer calling loudly, although they could not make out what was being said. There was a commotion in the sheepfold and also in the cow-shed. Then came a crashing sound, and from the cow-shed came one of the horses.

"Hullo! one of the horses is running away!" cried Dave. "This won't do at all! Whoa! Whoa, there!"

But the steed did not whoa--evidently not understanding such a command! On it went, around the corner of the hut and along the snowy trail. The sleigh driver was up and after it, and set off on a labored run, cracking a whip as he went.

"I see a wolf!" cried Roger. The beast had just left the sheepfold and was carrying something in its mouth. Evidently it was nearly famished, or it would never have stopped to carry off such a burden.

"It's a sheep!" said Dave.

As he spoke, the senator's son fired, and the bullet from his pistol hit the wolf in the side. The beast staggered for a second and then kept on, still carrying the sheep in its strong teeth.

"He's game, that's sure," said Dave, and now he, too, fired, running forward as he did so. Then came the roar of the shotgun from the sheepfold and out came another wolf, followed presently by a third. The fourth and last of the pack was instantly killed by the mountaineer, who literally, at close range, blew the animal's head off.

Dave's shot caused the wolf with the sheep to falter, and presently it dropped its burden and limped away for the nearest patch of firs. As it did this the second and the third wolf ranged up by the side of the two young Americans. Roger fired three shots in succession and Dave fired twice, but the animals were so quick that but little damage was done. One beast was hit in the tail and the other in the shoulder, and this made them extremely ugly.

Granbury Lapham had come out, but was at the sheepfold with the mountaineer. As a consequence the two boys faced the two wolves alone. One was sniffing at the body of the dead sheep, and now it essayed to raise the carcass up.

"He's going to run off with that sheep!" cried Roger.

"Not if I know it!" answered Dave, and rushing closer, he took the best aim the night afforded and blazed away. The wolf dropped the carcass, gave a vicious snarl, and turned abruptly.

"Look out!" yelled the senator's son, and scarcely had he spoken when the wolf was at Dave's very feet, glaring ferociously into the youth's face. Dave wanted to fire at the animal, but only a click of the hammer followed the pulling of the pistol's trigger.

It was a moment of peril, but Roger came to the rescue. Not to hit his chum, he ran around to the wolf's side and blazed away twice in rapid succession. This was too much for the wolf, and with only a grunt it rolled over and stretched out dead.

"Good for you, Roger!" said Dave. "If you hadn't---- Look out, here comes the other wolf!"

Dave was right: undaunted by the death of its mate, the last wolf--the largest of the pack of four--had leaped up through the snow and darkness. It was so hungry that the smell of blood maddened it beyond all endurance. It leaped so close to Dave it brushed his legs, then grabbed the sheep and began to drag the carcass rapidly through the snow.

"He's game, I must say!" cried Roger, and reloaded his pistol, while Dave did the same. Then came a shout from the sheepfold and the mountaineer put in an appearance, followed by Granbury Lapham.

The man of the place was angry, for three of his best sheep had been killed. He blazed away as soon as he saw the wolf, but his aim was poor, and the snow, blown up by a sudden wind, almost hid the beast from sight. Then the Englishman fired, hitting the wolf in the right hind leg. The animal whirled savagely, dropped the sheep, gave a snarl of rage, and suddenly confronted Roger.

"Get back, you!" yelled the senator's son, and fired point-blank at the wolf. He hit only one ear, and in a twinkling the wolf was on his breast, trying his best to get at Roger's throat.

CHAPTER XXI

CAUGHT IN A WINDSTORM

It was an anxious moment for all, and the others expected to see poor Roger almost torn to pieces. The wolf was big and strong, and hunger and the wounds it had received made it a formidable antagonist. Its eyes gleamed like those of a tiger.

"Help! help!" cried Roger, and then his words were drowned in the crack of Dave's pistol. Taking the best aim he could, the youth fired three times, and the wolf was hit in the side and the rump. It fell to the ground, whirled over and over in the snow, and started for Dave. Then Granbury Lapham fired, and the wolf fell over on its side. A moment later the mountaineer rushed in, and with a club he had picked up at the sheepfold dashed out the brains of the creature; and thus the strange and unexpected encounter came to an end.

Roger had suffered little more than a few scratches, yet he was so weak that the others had to support him back to the hut.

"I--I felt it was my last minute on earth!" he gasped. "If that wolf had been left alone another ten seconds he would have bitten me in the throat!"

"He was certainly a savage beast," replied Dave. He, too, was trembling, in spite of all he could do to control himself.

Several lights were now lit; and leaving Roger at the hut, the others went around to view the damage done. The mountaineer mourned the loss of his sheep, but was rejoiced to know so many wolves were dead.

"I know that big wolf," he told the Englishman. "He had given me a great deal of trouble. He was the leader of the pack. Now he is gone, perhaps I shall have peace for the rest of the winter."

The sleigh driver had returned with the runaway horse. The animal was highly excited and the driver had all he could do to quiet the steed.

"I could tell a long story about this horse," said the sleigh driver. "Once we were caught near Stamo in a great snow. The wolves came after us and this horse was bitten in the flank. That is what made him so afraid. The other horses do not know what wolves really are, and they did not mind them any more than they would so many dogs."

"This is a Christmas night to remember," said Dave, when they finally turned in again. "Roger, if this sort of thing keeps up, we are in for a trip full of excitement."

"Thank you, I don't want to meet any more wolves," replied the senator's son.

All were worn out by what had happened and glad to sleep late the following day. When they arose they found the storm had cleared away and it was as bright as could be expected at this time of year. Once more the sleigh was brought forth and the double team harnessed up. From the mountaineer they obtained a few extra provisions, including a portion of the mutton that had been killed. For this the man would take no pay, but the boys made his wife a present of some silver that pleased the family very much.

"And now to catch the exploring party!" cried Dave. "I don't think they traveled any further than we did in that awful snowstorm."

"It all depends upon what road they were on, so Hendrik tells me," answered Granbury Lapham. Hendrik was the sleigh driver, a good-natured man, although rather silent.

"Does he mean that they could travel on some of the roads, even if it did storm?" asked Dave.

"Yes."

"Well, all we can do is to follow them the best we know how," said Roger.

The new fall of snow had made traveling very heavy, and by noon they had covered only nine miles. Not a hut was in sight, and they made a temporary camp at the edge of a pine forest, where the trees sheltered them from the wind. A fire was built and they broiled a piece of mutton and made a large pot of coffee.

"What a sparsely settled country this is!" remarked the senator's son. "I declare, it looks like some spots in the far West of the United States."

"Norway is the most thinly settled country of Europe," answered Granbury Lapham. "And instead of growing better it seems to grow worse. Many of the peasants emigrate to Canada and the United States, where they can get productive farms without much trouble."

It was necessary to let the horses rest for an hour, and during that time the two boys strolled around the vicinity. There was, however, not much to see, and once off the road they found walking uncertain and dangerous.

"I can now understand why the driver didn't want to go on in that storm," was Dave's comment, when he pulled himself out of a gully several feet deep. "A little more and I'd have gone heels over head, and what would happen to the turnout in such a place I don't know."

"If the sleigh breaks down, or we lose a horse, it will be very bad," answered the Englishman, gravely. "The further north we go the more careful we must be, or we may not get back in safety. I think that exploring expedition was rather a foolhardy undertaking--at this season of the year."

"I believe I know what prompted my father to undertake it," said Dave. "It was the spirit of adventure. My Uncle Dunston says my father loves an adventure of any kind."

"Do you take after him?" asked the Englishman, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I think I must--otherwise I shouldn't be here," and Dave smiled broadly.

The sleigh driver said that if they made good time during the afternoon they would reach the village of Bojowak by five or six o'clock. Here he was certain they would hear further of the exploring party.

"Then let us hurry all we can," said Dave. "If it is too much of a pull for the horses, I, for one, am willing to walk part of the way."

"So am I," added the senator's son, and the Englishman also agreed to this, although he declared that trudging in the deep snow generally winded him greatly.

They were now approaching a dangerous part of the road, which ran around the western slope of two fair-sized mountains. They progressed with care, and frequently the driver would go in advance, to make sure that the footing was good.

"If only the fellows of Oak Hall could see us now!" declared Dave. "Wonder what they would say?"

"I must take another snapshot or two," answered Roger.

He had brought a folding pocket camera with him and had already taken several rolls of pictures. None of the films had been developed, so he could not as yet tell how the snapshots would turn out. Now he took a picture of Dave knee-deep in snow, with the turnout and the others in the background.

"I ought to have a picture of that fight with the wolves," said Roger, when he put his camera away. "When we tell about it at the Hall some of the fellows will be sure to say it's a fish-story."

"Nat Poole won't believe it for one, Roger; and I don't think Merwell will believe it either."

At the mention of Merwell's name Dave's face clouded for an instant.

"I wish Merwell would leave Oak Hall, Roger," he said. "Somehow, I like that chap less than I do Nat Poole or anybody else--even Jasniff."

"So do I. Poole is a fool, and Jasniff is a hot-headed scamp, but this Merwell----" The senator's son could not finish.

"I believe Merwell has the making of a thoroughly bad fellow in him," finished Dave. "I don't see how Doctor Clay allowed him to join the school."

On and on went the sleigh. The road was up hill, and all hands walked. Once they passed a man on horseback, wrapped up in furs. He stared at them curiously.

"Stop, please!" called out Granbury Lapham, in Norwegian, and the traveler came to a halt. When questioned he said he had heard about the strange party of six men who had come into that part of Norway, and he had also heard that the authorities were watching them.

"But where did they go to?" asked the Englishman.

That the man could not tell, but said they might possibly find out at Bojowak, from a man named Quicklabokjav.

"What a name!" cried Dave.

"It's bad enough--but I have heard worse," answered Granbury Lapham. "Some of the Norwegian names are such that a person speaking the English tongue cannot pronounce them correctly."

They were now more anxious than ever to reach Bojowak, which Hendrik said was a village of about sixty or seventy inhabitants. The people were mostly wood-choppers, working for a lumber company that had located in that territory two years before.

The wind was beginning to rise again. This blew the snow down from the mountain side, and occasionally the landscape was all but blotted out thereby. They struggled along as best they could, the driver cracking his whip with the loudness of a pistol. They passed around one edge of the mountain, only to view with consternation a still more dangerous stretch of road ahead.

"Dave, this is getting interesting," remarked Roger, as the horses stopped for a needed rest.

"I don't like the looks of that road, Roger. There is too much snow on the upper side and too deep a hollow on the lower."

"Right you are." The senator's son turned to the Englishman. "Mr. Lapham, will you ask Hendrik if he thinks it is safe to go on?"

When appealed to, the burly sleigh driver merely shrugged his shoulders. Then he looked up the mountain side speculatively.

"He says he thinks we can get through if the wind doesn't blow too strongly," said Granbury Lapham, presently.

"But the wind is blowing strong enough now," answered Roger.

"And it is gradually getting worse," added Dave.

Once again they went forward, but now with added caution. Ahead of them was a point where the firs stood in a large patch with the road cut through the center. As they entered the forest the wind whistled shrilly through the tree branches.

"I'd give a good bit to be safe in that village," remarked Roger, after listening to the wind.

"After we leave this patch of timber we are going to have our own troubles on the road."

They looked at the sleigh driver and saw that he, too, was disturbed. He stopped the team and gazed upward between the firs to the dull and heavy sky. Then he shook his head slowly.

"He says another storm is coming," said Granbury Lapham. "It is a great pity that it can't keep off until we reach Bojowak."

They were in the very center of the patch of firs when the wind increased as if by magic. It caught up the loose snow and sent it whirling this way and that, almost blinding the travelers. The horses, too, could not see, and they stopped short, refusing to go another step. The driver looked around again, and now his face showed that he was frightened.

"He says we must gain shelter of some kind," said the Englishman, after a few hurried words had passed. "He thinks it will be dangerous to remain here among the trees."

"The shelter of the trees is better than nothing," answered Roger. "If we were in the open and this wind---- Gracious! listen to that!"

A sudden rush of wind swept through the forest, causing the trees to sway and creak. The loose snow was blown in all directions, and they had to be careful that they did not get their eyes and mouths full of the stuff. "It's almost as bad as a--a blizzard!" panted Dave. "And I really think it is growing worse every minute!"

"The question is, where shall we go?" said Granbury Lapham.

"Perhaps the driver knows of some shelter," suggested Dave.

"If he does----"

The Englishman got no further, for at that moment came another rush of air. It bore down upon the forest with terrific force, and a second later they heard several trees go down with crashes that terrified them to the heart. It was a most alarming situation, and what to do to protect themselves nobody seemed to know.

CHAPTER XXII

SNOWBOUND IN THE MOUNTAINS

"If we stay here we'll be in danger of the falling trees!" cried Dave. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the fury of the elements.

"That's true, but where are we to go?" questioned Roger. The look in his eyes showed his keen anxiety.

"Isn't there some kind of a cliff around here, under which we can stand?" asked Granbury Lapham of the sleigh driver. Hendrik shrugged his shoulders for a moment, then suddenly tossed his head.

"Yes, I know such a spot," he said, in his native tongue. "Come, we will try to reach it before it is too late."

Amid the howling of the wind and the swirling of the snow, the horses and sleigh were turned partly around, and they struck off on a side trail, leading up the mountain. On and on they toiled, a distance of perhaps five hundred feet, although to the boys it seemed a mile or more. The wind was so strong it fairly took their breath away, and the snow all but blinded them. They had to walk, for it was all the double team could do to drag the turnout over the rough rocks and through the snow. Once Dave slipped, bumped against the Englishman, and both rolled downward a distance of several yards.

"Excuse me!" panted the young American. "My feet went up before I was aware."

"Don't mention it, my lad," was the gasped-out answer. "I fancy we're all doing the best we can."

Presently, through the driving snow, came the sight of a high, rocky wall. The sleigh driver halted and warned the others to do likewise.

"He says there is a pocket at the base of the cliff and we must be careful that we don't fall in it," said Granbury Lapham. "Let us wait until he makes certain it is perfectly safe."

In a few minutes Hendrik, having gone forward, came back and led the horses closer to the rocky wall, which towered over their heads a distance of a hundred feet or more. Toward the base the wall receded about a rod, so that the overhanging portion afforded a little shelter below. Outside of this shelter was a drift of snow as high as their heads, and the travelers had not a little trouble in getting through it.

"Well, this is certainly better than nothing," remarked Dave, as he shook the snow from his garments. "So long as the wind comes from down the mountain we'll be safe enough."

Hendrik proved a practical fellow in the emergency. He found a spot where some small rocks outside of the cliff set up something of a barrier in front. Then he unhitched the horses, took the outfit from the sleigh, and turned the sleigh upon its side. Not content with this, he found some fir saplings, cut them down with an axe he carried, and on them spread out the lap-robes. By the time he had finished they had quite a shelter from the wind and cold.

"Make a little fire now," he said, to the Englishman. "But be very careful that the forest does not catch." And then he explained that to allow the forest to burn in Norway was a prison offence.

"It's an outrage to burn down a forest, anyway," said Roger. "It takes so long for the trees to grow again."

"Yes, and they are never so nice afterwards either," added Dave.

With security from the storm, at least for the time being, everybody found himself hungry. A small fire of fir branches was started, and over this they made a pot of coffee and broiled a piece of the mutton brought along. They had some bread with them, and also some cheese-cake, and managed to make a square meal. They took their time eating, since there was nothing else to do.

"Wonder how long we'll have to stay here?" mused the senator's son.

"Until this awful wind lets up, I guess," answered Dave. "My! just listen to it roar and whistle! I shouldn't care to be out on the mountain top."

"You couldn't stand up there."

Hendrik brought in a large bundle of sticks and kept the fire going, so that they were soon well warmed. In the meantime it was growing darker and darker.

"We'll have to stay here until morning," announced Granbury Lapham. "To attempt to move in this darkness would be foolhardy."

There was absolutely nothing to do after that but sit down and rest, and soon the dancing of the fire made Dave sleepy. He rolled up in a blanket and closed his eyes, and presently Roger followed his example.

When the two boys awoke it was morning, but only a faint light reached them in their sleeping place under the cliff. They found Granbury Lapham already up. The sleigh driver, worn out, was stretched beside the fire, snoring lustily.

"Why, what has happened?" asked Dave, trying to look beyond the shelter. "I declare, it looks as if we were snowed in!"

"That's about the size of it," returned the senator's son. "And it looks to me as if it was still snowing."

"We'll have a time getting out on the road."

It was snowing thickly, so that but little could be seen beyond the improvised shelter. Fortunately, however, the wind had gone down, so that it was not nearly so cold as it had been.

They made themselves breakfast, and then Granbury Lapham aroused the sleigh driver. Hendrik went beyond the shelter before eating and shook his head dubiously.

"It will be a hard road to travel," he announced, in Norwegian, to the Englishman. "A hard road indeed!"

"Don't you think we can reach Bojowak to-day?" asked Granbury Lapham.

"We can try," was the non-committal reply.

They did not start until nearly noon. First Hendrik broke the road with the horses alone and then came back for the sleigh. It took a full hour to get down to the spot where they had turned off the Bojowak highway the day previous. Even then they broke one of the traces and had to stand around while the leather was mended. The falling snow was so thick they could not see any distance ahead. It clung to their fur caps and overcoats until each looked "like a regular Santa Claus," as Dave declared.

Beyond the forest the road ran along a ridge, and here they found traveling much easier, so that all entered the sleigh once more and rode. But at the end of the ridge they found a hollow covered even with snow.

"What's the trouble now?" questioned the Englishman, as Hendrik pulled in his four horses.

"I must see how deep it is first," was the reply, and the Norwegian jumped out and walked ahead with a long and slender pole he had brought along. Of a sudden he sank up to his waist. Then he stuck his pole down ahead of him. The snow was all of seven feet deep. He shook his head vigorously.

"We can't drive through there," said Dave. "Now what's to be done?"

Roger and Granbury Lapham stared around helplessly. The driver came back and began an inspection of the ground to the left. Here was another ridge. He said they might try skirting that, since there seemed nothing else to do.

"All right, anything so long as we get to Bojowak!" cried Dave.

The sleigh was turned partly around and the horses tugged and labored bravely to get through the snow on the new route. They went up a small rise of ground and then along a ridge that did not appear to be more than two yards wide. At one point there was a sharp decline on the left.

"We'll have to be careful here!" cried the Englishman to the driver. "Otherwise we may all take a tumble."

He had hardly spoken when a sleigh ran up on a rock on one side and plunged into a hollow on the other. In a twinkling the turnout was upset. Dave felt himself pitched out and rolled over and over before he could stop himself. Then he went down and down, he knew not whither. His hand touched that of Roger, and instinctively the two chums clung to each other. The snow filled their eyes, ears, and noses, and almost smothered them. They saw a little light, and then suddenly all became pitch-dark around them.

For several seconds after they fell neither spoke, for each was busy collecting his scattered senses. They were side by side on their backs and the snow was still all around them. Dave put out an arm, felt something of an opening, and crawled into it.

"Roger, are you all right?"

"I--I guess so!" came in a spluttering voice. "But I must have rolled ov--er a hun--hundred times!"

"So did I. We came down on the lightning express, didn't we?"

"Where are we, and where is the sleigh?"

"Don't ask me. We're at the bottom of some place. Come here, there is more room to breathe."

The senator's son followed Dave into the opening the latter had found. All was so dark here they could not see a thing. They stood close together, fearing to take another step.

"Hello! hello!" yelled Dave, when he had his breath back, and Roger quickly joined in the cry. To their consternation there was no answer.

"Most likely the others went down, too," said Dave.

"Then they ought to be near here."

"Unless they slipped clear down to the bottom of the mountain. If they did that I guess it's good-bye to them."

"Oh, do you think they've been killed, Dave?"

"I don't know what to think. Let us call again."

They did so, a dozen times or more. But no answer came back. All around them it was as silent as a tomb.

While procuring their outfit Dave had invested in a pocket lantern, and this he now brought forth and lit. By the tiny rays he made out that they had tumbled into a hollow between several large rocks, over which the snow and ice hung thickly. A big bank of snow was in front of them and behind was a black-looking space of uncertain depth.

"Roger, I must confess, I don't like the look of things."

"Don't like the look of things? Well, I guess not, Dave! How are we ever to get out?"

"I don't know."

"But we've got to get out somehow," went on the senator's son, desperately. "We can't stay here forever."

"Not unless this place becomes our tomb."

"You are cheerful, to say the least," answered Roger, with a shiver.

"I don't intend the place shall be my tomb," went on Dave, sturdily. "I am going to get out somehow. Let us do a little exploring."

"What! go into that black hole behind us? Why, we may fall into a bottomless pit!"

"Not if we are careful."

"I don't want to take any more chances--I've taken enough."

Dave held the light low so that he could see where he was going and walked into the opening behind him for a couple of rods. Roger followed very gingerly, for he did not want to be left behind. The opening proved to be a cave in the mountain side and the roof and flooring were of almost solid rock. Walking was very rough, and they could not tell how far the cave extended or in what direction.

"I am going to call again," said Roger, and going back to the mouth of the cave they set up as strong a cry as before. At first they fancied somebody answered them, but then all became silent.

"Nothing doing," murmured the senator's son, and his face took on a look of deep anxiety. "Dave----" He stopped short.

"What?"

"Nothing, only--do you really think the others were killed?"

"Let us hope not," was Dave's grave reply.

CHAPTER XXIII

LEFT IN THE DARK

The thought that their two companions might possibly have been killed by the toppling over of the sleigh filled Dave and Roger with fresh horror, and for several minutes neither of the youths spoke. They listened for some sound, but none came. Then Roger heaved a deep sigh.

"Perhaps we had better try to climb out," he suggested, timidly.

"I've thought of that, Roger. But what if we slip when we get out? Why, the bottom of the valley is quarter of a mile further down. I don't want such a tumble, on top of the one we have already experienced."

"If we ever get out we'll have plenty of news to send home," was the senator's son's comment.

"True; but let us get out before we think of sending news."

They talked the matter over, and at length concluded to do a little more exploring of the cave. Dave turned up the pocket lantern as high as possible, and as he did this Roger took from his pocket a short, strong cord. "I thought this might come in useful, for tying up our supplies," explained the senator's son, "so I brought it from the last house we stopped at. Tie one end around your waist, Dave, and I will hold fast to the other end. Then I'll walk behind you, and if you go into a hole----"

"I may drag you behind me," finished Dave.

"No, I'll look out for that,--only be as careful as you can."

"I'll take no more risks than are necessary."

They moved forward slowly and cautiously, first to one side of the cavern and then to the other. At last they struck what appeared to be a passageway running parallel to the mountain side.

"Let us follow this," suggested Dave. "It may bring us out somewhere on the road."

Roger was willing to do anything his chum suggested. It was a hard journey, over rocks that were sharp and slippery. In some spots they found a coating of ice and above their heads long icicles hanging from the roofing. Roger slipped and fell and came down with such a jar that a great icicle weighing at least twenty pounds came down close to his head, smashing into many pieces and scattering over both him and Dave.

"Hi! look out!" cried Dave. "If we got one of those on our heads----"

His voice echoed loudly throughout the cave, and then down came two more icicles, one hitting his shoulder. He was thoroughly alarmed and leaped to a spot beyond, literally dragging Roger with him.

"That was a close shave!" murmured the senator's son. "Dave, this spot is full of perils!"

On they went once more, until Dave was almost certain he saw some sort of an opening ahead of them. He pointed it out; and just then the tiny light of the pocket lantern began to flicker.

"Dave, the light is going out!"

"I know it."

"Can't you turn it up a bit?"

"No; the oil is gone," was the answer, after Dave had shaken the lantern to make certain of that fact.

"What will we do if we are left in the dark?"

"Hurry; I think we can reach that opening--if it is an opening."

They ran, and as they did so the lantern flickered up for the last time and went out. Then Dave stopped short and Roger clung to him.

"Don't stop here, Dave!"

"I won't--but we must go slow, or we'll knock our heads on a rock or on the icicles."

They advanced with all the caution they could command. Each was filled with a nameless dread, for if there was no opening ahead what should they do? To go back the way they had come was next to impossible in the dark. A dozen steps, and both went down in a hollow, Roger rolling on top of his chum. The spot was like a huge washbowl, and all of the sides were covered with ice. They tried to scramble out, only to slip back over and over again.

"This is the limit!" cried Roger, desperately.

"If we---- Oh, wait!" He felt in his pocket.

"Hurrah!"

"What is it?"

"I've got five matches. I'm going to light one."

"Make it last as long as possible," was Dave's advice.

The match was ignited and the boys gazed around the hollow. Dave found some bits of projecting rocks and pulled himself up, and Roger came behind, the match burning itself out in the meanwhile. Then they pushed on, until they presently came to an opening through which the snow came down.

"Out at last!" murmured Dave. "I am thankful for that!"

"We have reached the open air, but we are not out of our difficulty," returned the senator's son. "I can't see anything of the road, can you?"

"Not yet, but it must be somewhere in the neighborhood, for we went upward in the cave."

They had come out at a point where there was a small table-land, which the wind of the night before had swept almost clear of snow. Below was the valley and above them a patch of firs.

"That's the forest," said Dave, pointing upward. "The road runs through there. I think the place where we took the tumble is over yonder."

"Let us call to the others again."

Once more they raised their voices, and from a distance came an answering call from Granbury Lapham.

"Where is he?" queried Roger. "I can't see anything through this snow."

"Neither can I."

They called again, and at last made out that the Englishman was above them. Then they said they were going to try to get to him and commenced the struggle. It was a hard task, and took not only their strength but also their breath. They could not see the man, and it was only by continual calling they finally located him.

"We all took a great tumble, don't you know!" cried Granbury Lapham. "Were you hurt?"

"Not enough to mention," answered Dave. "Where is the sleigh driver?"

"He tried to stop the horses, I think. They ran away after the sleigh turned over. I wanted to help and the first thing I knew I went down, too."

"Do you know where the road is?" asked Roger. "Not far above us. But I slipped back several times trying to get to it."

Now was no time to compare notes, and all three started to ascend the mountain side to where they thought the road must be located. As they could not get up the icy slopes they pushed on to where there was a stunted growth of pines. Here, by clinging to one tree after another, they at last reached a point where trudging through the snow became comparatively easy.

"I got a pretty bad scare when I came down the mountain side," said Granbury Lapham, when they stopped to rest. "A bear came along not more than fifty feet in front of me."

"A bear!" cried the two boys, simultaneously.

"Yes, and a mighty big fellow, too, I can tell you."

"What did you do?"

"I felt for my pistol, but it was gone--I must have dropped it in the snow when I tumbled. At first I thought the beast would attack me, but he gave one look and then jumped away in the snow--and that's the last I saw or heard of him."

Both of the boys felt instinctively for their weapons and were glad to learn that they were safe.

"I don't want to see any bears," observed Dave. "All I want is to go on and join my father."

"And all I want to do is to find my brother," answered Granbury Lapham. "I sincerely trust they are safe."

"We all hope for that," answered the senator's son.

By the time they gained the mountain road it had stopped snowing, so that they could see a fair distance ahead and behind. Dave gave a long look in advance.

"There is something," he said. "I think it must be our turnout."

"It certainly is the sleigh," said Roger, a minute later. "But it is still turned over."

"Yes, and the two front horses are gone," added the Englishman.

As tired as they were, they pressed forward with all possible speed, and soon came up to the overturned sleigh, with its scattered outfit. Some of their goods had gone down the mountain side out of sight and the rest were covered with snow. The horses were nervous and on the point of dashing off, so that Dave had to go to their heads to quiet them.

"Do you know what I think?" said the boy. "The front team broke loose somehow, and Hendrik has gone after them."

"Well, I hope he catches 'em and brings 'em back," answered Roger.

They unhooked the team attached to the sleigh and tied them to the nearest tree, some distance off. Then all hands got at the heavy turnout and righted it and cleaned it out. This done, they put in the robes and all they could find of their belongings. Thus an hour went by.

"Hendrik doesn't seem to be coming back," said Dave. "Perhaps those horses went a long distance and it might be as well to follow them--if the single team can do it."

"Let us try the horses that are left, anyway," returned Roger. "We can let Mr. Lapham drive while we walk ahead and make sure of the road."

They hooked up with care and the Englishman took the reins. It was all the two animals could do to start the sleigh, for the road was slightly upward for quarter of a mile. But then it ran downhill and going became almost too easy.

"They'll be running away, if we don't look out," said Granbury Lapham, after Dave and Roger had jumped in on the rear seat. "There doesn't seem to be any whoa in them."

"Shall I drive?" asked Dave.

"Do you know anything about horses? My knowledge is rather limited."

"Yes, I used to live on a farm when I was younger. I'll take the reins."

Dave started to step from the rear to the front seat of the sleigh. As he did this the turnout reached a point in the road where the downgrade was greater than ever. Away went the horses, taking the bits in their teeth. The shock threw Dave backward into Roger's lap.

"Hi! hi!" yelled Granbury Lapham, in quick alarm. "They are running away! Stop them! Whoa! whoa!" And he tugged helplessly at the lines.

The steeds paid no attention to the command to stop and the pulling on the reins did not appear to bother them in the least. On and on the downgrade of the mountain road they bounded, causing the sleigh to bounce from one side to the other. They were certainly running away, and to the occupants of the sleigh it looked as if each moment might bring a smash that would terminate fatally.

CHAPTER XXIV

THE BURGOMASTER OF MASOLGA

Granbury Lapham had had practically no experience with horses and in the present trying emergency he was as helpless as an infant. He sawed this way and that on the reins, and yelled at the top of his lungs. This merely served to frighten the steeds still more, and away they sprang at a greater speed than ever.

"We'll be killed!" gasped Roger. He stood up, pale with fright.

"Don't jump out!" cried Dave. "Maybe I can stop them."

As quickly as he could, he gained the front seat of the turnout and took the reins from the Englishman's hands. He saw at once that the horses had the bits in their teeth and that pulling on the lines would do little if any good.

By this time they had gained a level stretch of road, but ahead was a decline greater than that just passed. If they reached that spot an accident would be inevitable.

On one side of the road was the upward slope of the hill, on the other the treacherous downward slope that had already caused them so much trouble. Dave hesitated for a moment, then pulled on one side of the reins with might and main, allowing the other side to drop entirely.

At first the horses did not heed, but presently one began to lose temper and courage and turned in toward the upward slope. Then the other had to come around, and in a twinkling the team was literally climbing the mountain side, dragging sleigh and occupants behind them!

"Look out! We'll all go over!" cried the senator's son.

"Hold tight; they're bound to stop soon, they can't keep this up!" yelled back Dave, and even as he spoke the horses, blowing heavily, slackened up, came to a walk, and then stopped short.

"Really, don't you know----" began Granbury Lapham, and knew not what to say.

"Now you can get out, if you wish," said Dave, and gathered up both reins once more. "I guess they have had their fill of running away."

"You turned them up the hill nicely."

"It was a hard pull," said Roger. "Dave, are you going to get out?" he added, as he hopped to the ground.

"No, I am going to turn them around and drive them down to the road."

"They'll run away with you!" ejaculated the Englishman, in alarm.

"I won't give them a chance," was the quiet but firm reply.

"If you are going to ride, I'll do the same," said Roger, and clambered back to his seat again. Granbury Lapham said he would walk for a while.

"I want to see how they act," he remarked, frankly. "I am not going to risk my neck again until I know what I am doing."

With a firm hand Dave started the horses and turned them partly around. They were inclined to be fretful, but he gave them no chance to gain the mastery. He spoke to them in a voice they could not help but notice, and was ready to turn them up the mountain side again at the first indication of another "break."

"Dave, you certainly know how to manage horses," spoke up Roger, when the road was reached. "It must be born in you."

"I suppose it is, Roger. My Uncle Dunston tells me that my father is a very good horseman and that he and my mother used often to go out horseback riding together."

Seeing how well Dave managed, Granbury Lapham entered the sleigh once more, and away they went along the road and down the decline previously mentioned. To retard the movement of the turnout and thus ease the team, Dave kept partly in the deep snow, and consequently there was no excuse for the horses running away.

Nearly a mile was covered when they saw Hendrik returning with the other team. The Norwegian sleigh driver hailed their approach with joy, which was considerably increased when he learned that the sleigh and the other horses had suffered no damage and that the greater part of the outfit had been saved.

"I was afraid somebody had fallen down the mountain side and been killed," said he to Granbury Lapham. "It is a most dangerous portion of this road. Last winter two men and a woman lost their lives close to this very spot."

"We had all the trouble we wanted," said Dave, when the driver's remarks had been translated by the Englishman.

Hendrik looked over the sleigh and the harness with care, and quarter of an hour later they were moving toward Bojowak as rapidly as the state of the road permitted. They had to pass through two hollows, and here the men and boys walked, for it was all the double team could do to get through.

"I see smoke!" cried Dave, presently. "It seems to come from a chimney."

"Bojowak," said the sleigh driver, nodding his head.

"Hurrah! We'll soon be there!" cried Roger. He looked at his chum. "You won't be sorry, Dave?"

"No, indeed," was the ready answer.

They had to pass around a spur of the mountain, which took another half-hour, and then came in full view of Bojowak, a village, the houses, or rather cabins, of which seemed to fairly cling to the side of the mountain. There was but one street, and most of the residences were located on the upper side of this, with barns and sheds below or attached to the dwellings.

Their arrival was noted with considerable curiosity, and the sleigh driver was plied with innumerable questions as to what had brought him thus far in such weather. He quickly explained, and then asked concerning the exploring expedition, and Granbury Lapham asked a number of similar questions.

"The expedition left Bojowak two days ago," said the Englishman, after he had learned the news. "It moved on to a sheep-station called Plivohav, six miles from here. From Plivohav the party was going to try to reach the top of the mountain called Thundercap."

"Is there any kind of a good road to Plivohav?" asked Dave, eagerly.

"No, it is a very poor road."

"Then we can't use the sleigh?"

"No, we'll have to go there either on foot or on horseback. The explorers used horses."

"Oh, let us go on horseback!" urged Roger. "I don't want to walk."

"I certainly prefer riding," added Dave.

"I'm not much in a saddle, but I fancy I can stand it," said Granbury Lapham. "We can take Hendrik with us, and as we have four steeds that will give each of us a mount."

Dave was desirous of going ahead at once, but it was too late, and the horses were so worn out, it was decided to remain at Bojowak over night. There was something of a road-house, used principally during the summer, and at this they asked for accommodations for the whole party and also for the horses.

"I think I can accommodate you," said the landlord, a burly and rather rough-looking Norwegian. "Wait till I call my wife and see what rooms are vacant. We have quite a number of guests. The burgomaster of Masolga is here with his brother and his wife. They, too, came in all this storm."

The landlord went out, leaving the two American boys and the Englishman in the public room of the road-house. Scarcely had he departed when a side door opened and a man came in, evidently not in the best of humor.

"You dog of a landlord!" he cried, in Norwegian. "Where are you? My room is as cold as a barn. I want some extra wood put on the fire at once. This is a scurvy way to treat the burgomaster of Masolga."

"Hello!" cried Dave, in a low voice, and plucked his chum by the sleeve. "Here is the brute of the railway coach."

"Sure enough," murmured the senator's son. "I never thought we'd meet him up here. Wonder if he'll say anything if he sees us?"

"Humph! so he's the burgomaster of Masolga, eh?" muttered Granbury Lapham. "I pity the townfolks under him."

"I say, do you hear, landlord?" stormed the burgomaster, striding around. "Are you deaf, that I must wear my lungs out calling you? If I had---- Ha!"

He stopped short, for his striding around had brought him face to face with our friends. He was astonished, then glared at the three as if they were deadly enemies.

"You!" he cried. "You! What brought you to this place? Are you following me?"

"We are not following you," answered the Englishman.

"I thought I was done with you! That I would never behold any of you again!" went on the burgomaster. "You are English cattle."

"And you are a Norwegian pig," answered Granbury Lapham. His English blood could not stand the insult.

"Ha! this to me? Me! the burgomaster of Masolga!" The speaker stamped violently on the floor with his heavy boot. "You shall pay for that insult! A pig! I will show you!"

"You started the quarrel, I did not," said the Englishman. He was a trifle alarmed over the turn affairs had taken.

"Are you stopping here?" demanded the burgomaster, after an ugly pause.

"We expect to stop here."

"It shall not be--I will not have you in the house with me! Such English cattle! Hi, you, Mina!"--this to a servant who had come in. "Call your master at once, I must see him."

The servant departed, her wooden shoes clattering loudly on the bare floor. The burgomaster of Masolga paced up and down, slapping his hands together.

"I will show you your place!" he muttered, with a malicious look on his face. "Wait! Yes, wait!"

In a moment more the landlord came in, almost out of breath.

"A thousand pardons!" he said, bowing low. "It was stupid of Jan to let the fire burn low. I have ordered more wood, and----"

"Let that pass, for the present," answered the burgomaster. "It is about these fellows I want to question you. Have they engaged rooms here?"

"They want rooms, sir, and we have two that----"

"You must not take them in!" roared the burgomaster of Masolga. "I forbid it."

"Forbid?" gasped the astonished landlord.

"Yes, forbid. They are nothing but English cattle. I met them on the train. They insulted me grossly. They must go elsewhere for accommodations."

"Have you two vacant rooms?" demanded Granbury Lapham, coming to the front.

"Yes, but--but----"

"We'll take them," answered the Englishman, quickly. He felt certain no other accommodations could be had in the village.

"Thank you, sir, but----"

"He cannot have the rooms--I will take them myself!" howled the burgomaster.

"I have already taken them," answered the Englishman, quietly. "I will pay in advance for them, if necessary," and he pulled out his purse.

"It shall not be!" stormed the burgomaster of Masolga. "I forbid it! I will pay for the rooms, if needs be. Those English cattle shall not sleep under the same roof with me and my family."

CHAPTER XXV

TO THE NORTHWARD ONCE MORE

"What's the trouble about?" asked Dave, coming forward.

"That brute doesn't want us to stay here," explained Granbury Lapham. "He forbids the landlord renting us rooms."

"Are there any rooms vacant?" questioned Roger.

"Two."

"We'll take them!" cried Dave. "He can't stop us."

"I've already said I'd take them. But the burgomaster won't listen to it."

"The landlord has got to let us have the rooms," said Dave. "If his place is a public road-house we are entitled to accommodations, and at the legal rate----"

"By Jove, you're right! How stupid of me to forget!" cried the Englishman. He turned to the landlord. "I demand those rooms," he said, in Norwegian. "That man shall not keep us out of your place. It is a public house. I demand my rights."

"Yes! yes!" replied the landlord. "But, sir----"

"Ha! Do not listen to him, Voshof," said the burgomaster. "Who is more important here, he or I? Out with the lot of them! I will take the rooms, and if every apartment is occupied, why you cannot accommodate them, can you?"

"Here is my money," said Granbury Lapham. He placed several silver thalers on the table. "I believe you know the law. If you do not, my friends and I do."

The landlord was in a quandary. Ordinarily he would have sided with the burgomaster of Masolga, but there were several considerations which made him pause. In the first place, he did not like the burgomaster, for he was very dictatorial and few things at the inn suited him and his party; in the second place, the foreigners usually paid liberally for what they got, generous "tips" were not withheld; and lastly, and this was equally important, the landlord had once refused a man a room when he was by law entitled to accommodations and he had been fined for the offense. He did not want to be dragged into court again, for his license might possibly be taken from him.

"He pays for the rooms, I am helpless," said the landlord, taking up the thalers. "I will see to it that you are not molested by any one," he added, gravely.

At this the burgomaster stormed and raved, calling Granbury Lapham a number of hard names. The Englishman would not stand such insults, and rushing up he caught the Norwegian official by the arm.

"Stop!" he cried. "Any more such words, and I will knock you down. My friends and I did not come here to be insulted. We are gentlemen, and we expect to be treated as such. Landlord, I look to you for protection while under your roof."

"There must be no quarreling here," said the landlord. "The law does not allow it." He paused for an instant. "I will show you gentlemen to your rooms." He turned to the burgomaster of Masolga. "Your fire shall be attended to immediately."

"I shall remember this!" cried the burgomaster, quivering with rage. "I shall remember it! I shall never come here again!" And he stormed from the room.

"He is a very passionate man," said the landlord, when he was alone with our friends. "I do not care if he stays away. He is poor pay and he wants too much for his money."

"We shall pay you well if you treat us fairly," answered Granbury Lapham, and slipped an extra thaler into the inn-keeper's ready hand.

"Depend upon me to do my best, sir," was the quick answer, and then the travelers were shown to two connecting rooms, plainly but comfortably furnished. One had a broad fireplace, and in this a roaring fire was soon blazing. That there might be no further trouble they were served with supper in a private dining-room; so they saw practically nothing more of the hot-headed and unreasonable burgomaster of Masolga.

"We have to thank you for getting through in this instance," said Dave, warmly, to Granbury Lapham. "I realize now we should have been at a tremendous disadvantage had Roger and I undertaken this trip alone--neither of us being able to speak more than a few words of the language."

"I am glad I fell in with you," was the Englishman's reply. "'Twould have been mighty lonely without you, don't you know."

Despite the adventures through which they had passed, the young Americans slept soundly that night and did not awaken until eight in the morning. It was cold and cheerless, no sun showing in the sky, and there was a promise of more snow in the air.

A good breakfast was procured, and they settled with the landlord and "tipped" him in a fashion that made him bow almost to the ground.

"Come again, and welcome, sirs," he said. "And do not mind what the burgomaster said. More than likely he will soon lose his position, for many people are dissatisfied with him, and he is exceedingly slow in settling his debts."

They were soon on horseback, the sleigh having been put away under one of the sheds. Hendrik led the way, past the village and then to what was little better than a mountain trail, winding in and out through several patches of firs and then across some rough rocks. At the latter spot there was a good deal of ice, and once Roger's horse went down, carrying his rider with him.

"Are you hurt, Roger?" asked Dave, leaping down to his chum's assistance.

"I don't think so," was the reply of the senator's son. But when he arose he drew in a sharp breath. "He caught my left ankle and I reckon he twisted it a little."

The horse was gotten up and Dave assisted Roger to mount. It was painful to stand on the injured ankle, but Roger said it was all right when he was in the saddle.

"Be careful after this," said Dave, and they were cautious at every spot where the ice showed itself.

The scenery around them was magnificent, but it was such a gray day this was practically lost upon them. They were going steadily upward and to the north of Norway, and they could feel the air growing colder. Only the firs stood out against the sky; all else was snow and ice.

"This is winter weather, and no mistake," remarked Roger. "I don't know that I want to go much further north."

"How desolate it is!" said Dave. "Not a sign of a house or hut anywhere! It's as bad as being in the far West of our country in mid-winter."

"Hark! I hear bells!" cried Granbury Lapham. "Can another sleigh be coming?"

They looked in the direction from whence the sound came, and presently made out something moving below them, on a road in the valley.

"I really believe it is a sled with a reindeer attached!" cried Dave. And such proved to be the case. But before they could get a good look at the novel turnout, sled and reindeer flashed out of sight.

"I shouldn't mind having a ride behind a reindeer myself," said Dave, as they resumed their journey.

"Nor I," added his chum.

At the end of three hours of hard traveling they came in sight of the sheep-station for which they were bound. It was composed of a log cabin and half a dozen large sheds, surrounded by a high fence. Nobody was in sight, and they had to call several times before the care-taker of the place put in an appearance.

"Have you a party of strangers here?" questioned Granbury Lapham.

"Yes," was the answer, "but they are not here just now."

"A scientific exploring party?"

"Yes."

"Where have they gone?"

"They started this morning for the top of old Thundercap," said the sheep raiser. "They will be back by to-morrow night."

"Found at last," said the Englishman, joyfully, and translated what had been said to Dave and Roger.

"Back to-morrow night," murmured Dave. His heart began to beat rapidly. "I wish they'd come to-night. I can hardly wait."

The sheep raiser was questioned further, and told them the party was made up of Mr. Porter, Mr. Lapham, and five others, including a Norwegian guide named Bjornhof. He said they had a number of scientific instruments with them, and talked of gold and silver and other precious metals.

"Maybe they are trying to locate a mine," suggested Roger.

"If they are, I fancy they will be disappointed," answered Granbury Lapham. "Norway has been pretty well explored for minerals and the best of the mines have been located."

"This region doesn't look as if it had been explored very much," returned Dave. "It's about as wild and primitive as could be."

The sheep-station afforded but meager accommodations, and they were glad that they had brought along some supplies. There was, to be sure, plenty of mutton, but who wanted to eat that all the time?

"I don't mind lamb," said the senator's son. "But mutton, especially when it is strong, is another matter."

"Which puts me in mind of a story, as Shadow Hamilton would say," said Dave, with a smile. "A young housewife was going to have a number of her husband's friends to dinner, and her husband told her to get a big leg of lamb for roasting. So she went to the butcher. 'Give me a leg of lamb,' she said. 'I want a very large one. I think you had better give it to me from a lamb four or five years old.'"

"And that puts me in mind of another," answered the senator's son. "A country boy went to town and there saw a circus parade including two camels. When he got back home he told his folks that the parade was all right, but he thought it was a shame to drive around such long-necked, hump-backed cows!"

The sheep raiser told them that all the members of the exploring party were in excellent health. He said one of the men resembled Dave very much, and smiled broadly when told the man was the lad's father. When Granbury Lapham added that the two had not met since Dave was a little fellow, the sheep raiser opened his eyes wide in astonishment.

"'Tis like a fairy tale," said he, and then told them several fairy tales he had heard when a boy. He was an uneducated man and his life was exceedingly simple, and the fairy tales were, consequently, very wonderful to him.

"Imagine such a man set down in the heart of New York or Chicago," observed Roger. "How his eyes would open and how he would stare!"

"If you told him of all the wonders of the big cities he wouldn't believe you," answered Dave. "I once started to tell one of those natives of the South Sea Islands about the Brooklyn Bridge and when I pointed out how long it was, and said it hung in mid-air, he shook his head and walked away, and I know he thought I was either telling a lie or was crazy."

The day passed slowly, especially to Dave, who could scarcely wait for the hour to arrive when his father should come back. What a meeting that would be! It made the tears stand in his eyes to think about it.

"Dear, dear father!" he murmured to himself. "I know we are going to love each other very, very much!"

CHAPTER XXVI

DAYS OF WAITING

With the coming of night a strong wind sprang up, and by ten o'clock it was blowing a gale. The wind caused the house to rock and groan, and for the travelers sound sleep was out of the question. The man in charge, however, had experienced such a condition of affairs before and did not appear to mind it.

"Some great winds here at times," he said to Granbury Lapham. "Once the top of the house was blown off and sailed away down into the valley."

"Excuse me, but I don't want to be here at such a time, don't you know," answered the Englishman.

The wind increased steadily, and at midnight it was blowing so furiously that Dave thought the shelter might go over. He went towards the door, to find a quantity of snow sifting in above the sill.

"Hello, it must be snowing again!" he remarked. "That's too bad, for it will make traveling worse than ever."

It was snowing, and the downfall continued all night and half of the next day. The wind piled it up against the house until it reached the roof, burying two of the windows completely from sight.

"This is a regular North Pole experience," remarked Roger, as he bustled around in the morning, trying to get warm. "I don't know that I want to go much further north."

"Don't want to become an arctic explorer, then?" queried Granbury Lapham.

"Not much! Say, stir up the fire, or I'll be frozen stiff."

Wood was piled on the fire, and soon a pot of steaming coffee made all feel better. When the man in charge went out to look at the sheep in the various folds Dave went with him. The air was filled with snow, and it was very dark.

"This is terrible," said Dave, on returning. He was thinking of his father and the others of the exploring party.

"Land of the Midnight Sun," returned the senator's son, laconically.

"The man says they'll not return to-day," said Granbury Lapham. "It would not be safe on the mountain trail."

"I thought as much," answered Dave. "Well, all we can do, I suppose, is to wait." And he heaved a deep sigh.

The day passed slowly, for the place afforded nothing in the way of amusement, and even if it had, Dave was too much worried about his father to be interested. All went out among the sheep and saw them fed. The folds were long, low, and narrow, and the occupants huddled together "just like a flock of sheep," as Roger remarked with a grin.

"What timid creatures they are," said he, a little later. "I suppose you can do almost anything with them."

"Not with the rams," answered Dave. And then he went on: "Do you remember Farmer Cadmore's ram and how we put him in Job Haskers' room?"

"I don't believe these animals are quite so ugly," said the senator's son, and went up to one of the rams in question. The animal backed away a few feet, then of a sudden it leaped forward, lowered its head, and sent Roger sprawling on his back.

"Wow!" grunted the youth. "Ho! chase him off!" And he lost no time in rolling over and getting out of harm's way. "Gracious, but that was a crack in the stomach, all right!" he groaned.

"He's what you can call a battering-ram," observed Dave.

"Yes, and a ram-bunctious one at that."

"Don't ram-ble in your talk, Roger."

"If he goes on another ram-page I won't ram-ble, I'll run."

"Say, this joke has too many ram-ifications for me, let us drop it," said Dave, and with a merry laugh both lads changed the subject.

The hours dragged by slowly. At noon they took their time eating a meal that all hands prepared. Fortunately they had with them a few canned goods, which gave them something of a change in their diet.

When night came again the wind arose once more. But now the house was so completely buried in the snow that it was scarcely touched. Dave was worn out and slept soundly, and the others did not awaken him until nearly nine o'clock.

"Any news?" was his first question on arising.

"Nothing," answered Granbury Lapham. "Porter, I am growing worried," he added, seriously.

"I think we have good cause to worry, Mr. Lapham. It is no joke to be out on a mountain top in such weather as this."

"The man here tells me there are several shelters up there, one built between the rocks where the wind cannot touch it. But for all that I am worried."

"Do you suppose they have enough food with them?"

"They should know enough to go well supplied."

All of that day and the next went by, and still nobody appeared at the sheep-station. Another snowstorm was brewing, and when it came the air was so filled with it that nobody could venture outside. The young Americans and the Englishman paced the floor of the shelter impatiently, but could do nothing. Their food was limited, and the tobacco for Granbury Lapham's pipe ran low, which caused the man additional trouble.

"I can get along with a poor meal, but I must have my smoke," he said.

A day later they were seated around the fire discussing the situation when Roger gave a cry.

"Well, I never!"

"What's up now?" asked Dave.

"Why, we've gotten into a new year and nobody ever noticed it!"

"By Jove, that's so!" answered Granbury Lapham. "Well, here's a Happy New Year to all of you."

"A poor beginning makes a good ending, they say," said Dave. "Let us hope that proves true in this instance." He was sorry he had not been in a position to send New Year greetings to those at home, and especially to Jessie.

Sunday passed drearily, and also Monday. On Tuesday it began to clear and the wind dropped entirely. Then the house was opened and they went forth, and the man in charge busied himself with his sheep. Two of the animals had died from the cold, and one had been trampled to death in the huddling together to keep warm.

"Thank fortune, the horses are all right," said Roger, after an inspection.

With the coming of comparatively good weather they watched eagerly for the return of the exploring party. The sheep-station keeper pointed out to them where the mountain trails ran and told them the party must come by way of one of them, for to descend in any other manner would be impossible.

"I really can't see how they are going to get down in such a snow," was Dave's comment. "Why, in some places it must be ten feet deep or more."

"The wind has swept some places clear," was Granbury Lapham's answer. "As far as possible they'll stick to those cleared spots."

"It must be fearfully slippery," said Roger. "And if any of them takes a tumble----" He did not finish.

The day was coming to a close when Dave, who was still on the watch, uttered a shout.

"I see somebody, up on yonder trail!" he cried. "One, two, three of them!"

"Only three?" queried Granbury Lapham.

"That is all, so far."

All ran out and looked to where Dave pointed. Three men were coming along the trail slowly. Sometimes they would be in snow up to their waists, and then again they could be seen crawling cautiously over the icy rocks which had been swept clear of snow.

"If we only had a field-glass!" murmured Dave. He wondered if one of the men could be his father.

The men were only in sight a few minutes, then some projecting rocks hid them from view. The man in charge of the sheep-station was questioned, and he told them it would take the men on the mountain a good two hours to get down to the house, as the trail wound around considerably to avoid several dangerous cliffs.

"Let us go out to meet them," said Dave. "I can't stand this hanging around doing nothing."

"All right, I'll go with you," answered his chum.

Granbury Lapham was also anxious; and in a few minutes the three started out, along a road the sheep-station keeper pointed out. It was now dark, but they kept to the road with ease, as it ran between several patches of stunted pines.

No words can describe the feeling that filled Dave's heart. Was he to meet his father at last? At times he trembled like a leaf just to think of it.

His eyes were on the alert, and after trudging along for half an hour he made out several forms approaching down the mountain trail. He set up a shout and so did his companions, and presently came an answering call.

In a few minutes the two parties were within speaking distance. Dave gave each of the three newcomers a searching look, and his heart sank. Not one of them was his father.

The three men were the Norwegian guide and two individuals named Hausermann and Davis. They were almost exhausted by their journey, and begged to be conducted to the sheep-station and given something to eat before telling their story.

"But my brother--what of him?" demanded Granbury Lapham.

"Who is your brother?" asked Samuel Hausermann.

"Philip Lapham, the head of this expedition."

"Oh, so you are Philip's brother. Well, he is safe--at least he was when we left him. He hurt his knee a little, slipping over some rocks, but it didn't amount to much."

"And what of my father, David Porter?" put in Dave, anxiously. "He was with you, wasn't he?"

"Yes, he was with us," answered Samuel Hausermann. "But he----" The man stopped speaking and looked at his companions.

"But what? Oh, don't say something has happened to him!" cried Dave, and a sudden chill took possession of his heart.

"We're hoping he is safe," said Charles Davis. "You see, he went out yesterday, to look for some food. It was very slippery on the rocks and the wind knocked him down and rolled him over a cliff."

"And then----" Dave could hardly speak.

"We tried to get to him, but couldn't," said Samuel Hausermann. "Our rope wasn't long enough. Then he tried to climb up the cliff, but the snow seemed to blind him and he lost his grip, went down, and disappeared over another cliff about a hundred feet below. And that's the last we saw or heard of him."

CHAPTER XXVII

DAVE STRIKES OUT ALONE

It was dismaying news, and utterly downcast Dave followed the others to the sheep-station and listened to the details of what the newcomers had to tell. It was a long story, and while they related it a good hot meal was prepared for them.

"We reached the top of the mountain in safety and also the plateau of the smaller mountain beyond," said Samuel Hausermann. "That was the place for which we were bound. Shortly after that the snowstorm came on, and the high winds, and it was all we could do to gain one of the old shelters up there between the rocks. In journeying around we lost a good portion of our outfit, including some of the provisions, and all we had to live on for two days was some venison--Mr. Porter shot a small red deer--and some beans and crackers. We had intended to do some more exploring, but the weather put a stop to everything of that sort. Then one of the party, Mr. Jackson, took sick and we had to do what we could to get him well again. At last Mr. Porter went out to see if he couldn't bring down something in the way of game. He could get only some small birds and they lasted only one meal. Then he went out again, after an elk he had seen at a distance. That was when he took the tumble over the cliffs."

"Are you sure he wasn't killed?" asked Dave.

"I am sure of nothing, my lad. But I think the chances are he fell in the deep snow, or on some of the fir trees, and that that saved his life."

"What time was this yesterday?"

"About noon. After that we decided to come down here, and at the same time look for your father. Philip Lapham said he would remain, to look after Jackson, who was as yet too weak to walk. We left all our provisions up there and came down here as fast as we could--and here we are."

This was all Samuel Hausermann could tell, and Charles Davis corroborated his statement. Dave shook his head sadly.

"Even if my father wasn't killed by the tumble he took, maybe he was starved or frozen to death," he said to Roger.

"Hope for the best, Dave," was all the senator's son could answer.

The Norwegian guide, Bjornhof, had agreed to go back to the mountain top with a load of provisions. He had expected to go alone, but Dave said he would go also, to see if he could not find what had become of his parent. Then Granbury Lapham said he would go also.

"Maybe I'd better go too," said Roger.

"No, Roger," answered Dave. "It wouldn't be fair to ask you to do that. There is too much of peril, and you must remember what you promised your mother and father. You stay here with Mr. Davis and Mr. Hausermann." And so it was finally settled.

All of the party were provided with knapsacks, which they filled with the best provisions available. The guide also carried an extra bag of stuff, strapped across the back of his neck. He was a brawny fellow, over six feet in height, and did not seem to mind the load in the least. He had a gun, and Dave and Granbury Lapham each carried a pistol and a box of cartridges.

"Good luck to you, Dave," said the senator's son on parting, and he shook hands warmly. "Remember, I shall be very anxious until I hear from you again." He followed his chum a short distance up the mountain trail, and the two were loath to separate.

The route was rocky and uncertain, and during the next two hours Dave realized what climbing the Alps must be. At certain spots they had to help one another along, using a rope for that purpose. Once they crossed a split in the rocks several feet wide and of great depth, and it made Dave shudder to peer down into the dark and forbidding depths below.

Yet he thought very little of the perils of that arduous journey. His mind was constantly on his parent. Would he find his father alive, or had the fall over the cliffs killed his parent?

"God grant he is alive!" he said to himself, over and over again.

They had started directly after breakfast, and by noon reached a small level spot where they took a well-deserved rest. From this place the guide pointed out the cliffs from which Mr. Porter had fallen.

"But you cannot reach them from here," he explained, in his native dialect, to Granbury Lapham. "To get to them we must walk at least a mile further. And even then I know of no way to reach the spot to which the poor man fell."

"I'll reach that somehow," said Dave, when the guide's words had been translated to him.

"Well, lad, you must be careful," cautioned Granbury Lapham. "No use in your losing your life, you know."

But Dave merely shook his head. He was bound to find his father, dead or alive, no matter what the cost. For the time being he could think of absolutely nothing else. That, and that alone, possessed him, heart and soul.

The air was clear, with little or no wind, which was one comfort. As they went on they had to pass around great ridges of snow and over hummocks of ice, where the water had frozen while tumbling down the mountain side. There were but few trees in that vicinity, although a small forest grew at the foot of the cliffs.

At last they reached a spot where the guide said a small and decidedly uncertain trail led to the bottom of the upper cliff--the first one over which Mr. Porter had fallen.

"Then that is where I am going," said Dave. "Perhaps I can find out something about my father there."

"You had better come with us," answered Granbury Lapham. "As soon as I have met my brother we can all come back to this place."

"No, you can come back anyway--I'll stay here now and look around," replied the youth, firmly.

Bjornhof pointed out the exact spot from which Mr. Porter had fallen, and without waiting Dave trudged off, and the others continued their climb up the mountain. Soon a point of rocks separated them, and Dave found himself utterly alone.

Had he had less to think about the boy might have felt very lonely. But now his heart was filled with thoughts of his parent, and he never gave the situation in which he was placed any consideration. On and on he hurried. Twice he fell on the slippery rocks, but picked himself up just as quickly. In his mind's eye he could see his father helpless at the bottom of the cliffs, with a broken leg or a fractured rib, or suffering for the want of food and warmth. Such thoughts were terrifying, and caused him to shudder from head to foot.

"This must be the place!"

He spoke the words as he came to a spot where footprints in the snow were plainly visible. He looked around eagerly and made out where his father had slipped from that cliff to the hollow below. Here was a long icy slide, and Dave did not dare to venture too close to the brink, for fear of going over.

"That hollow must be at least a hundred feet deep," reasoned the youth. "How am I ever to get down there?"

He called out, but no answer came back. Then he walked slowly to the far end of the cliff, behind and over some jagged rocks which at first seemed to completely bar the way.

He heaved a long sigh, then looked at the very end of the cliff. Here the rocks were notched and uneven, and he found a spot where he could drop a distance of fifteen feet in safety. But after that?

"If I get down there perhaps I won't be able to get back--if I want to," he reasoned. "But I'm going down, anyway--and find out what became of father," he added, recklessly. The drop taken, he found himself on a ledge several yards wide and twice as long. To his delight back of the ledge was a hollow leading downward.

"Perhaps that goes to the bottom of the cliff," he mused. "I'll try it, anyway."

The passageway was dangerous, being covered with ice, and he had to move literally an inch at a time. Once he slipped, but caught fast to a ridge of ice just in time to save himself. It made his heart leap into his throat, yet he kept on. He was so eager to gain the object of his quest that no peril, no matter how great, could have daunted him. Surely "blood is thicker than water" every time.

Having gained the bottom of the hollow inside of the cliff, he turned to where a streak of light showed. Here was a narrow slit leading to the greater hollow outside of the cliff. It was so small that the youth squeezed through with difficulty and had even more trouble getting his knapsack on the other side.

He now stood where there was a gentle slope leading to the firs growing at the foot of the cliff. Here there was a great drift of snow, in some spots fifteen and twenty feet high.

"I wonder if father came down in that?" he mused. "If he did he wouldn't be apt to break any bones. But he might get smothered before he could find his way out, especially if the fall took his breath away."

He gazed around in the drift and saw a spot where it looked as if the snow had been disturbed. Then he saw what looked to be footprints further on, leading among the firs.

"Hello! hello!" he called, with all the strength of his lungs. "Mr. Porter! Where are you?"

His voice echoed along the rocks and beyond, and he waited with bated breath for a reply, but, as before, none came.

What should he do next--go on or search the immense snowdrift for his father's body?

He deliberated for several minutes, then moved onward.

"I must see if he is alive," he reasoned. "I can always come back for his body later--if I have to."

The edge of the fir forest gained, Dave paused once more. Here was a track in the snow, but whether made by a human being or a wild animal he could not tell. Then he uttered a sharp cry and rushed forward to pick something up.

It was a box that had contained rifle cartridges. It was empty and practically new. Had his father possessed that and discarded it?

Suddenly he thought of something new, and pulling out his pistol fired it off as a signal. The last echo had hardly died out when an answering shot came back. His face lit up with joy, then grew sober again.

Perhaps the shot had come from above, from Granbury Lapham or the others up there. But no, it had seemed to be further down--beyond the line of firs which confronted him. At the risk of wasting too much ammunition he fired again. But this time no signal came back.

"If it was father he'll want to save his shots--especially if his cartridge box is empty," thought Dave. Then he resolved to push on through the timber, calling his parent in the meanwhile.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A JOYOUS MEETING

Dave had proceeded a distance of fifty yards into the patch of firs when he came to a halt. A peculiar sound to his left had caught his ears. He had never heard such a sound before and he wondered what it was.

"Must have been some bird--or a wild animal," he murmured, after he had listened for some time. "There ought to be many kinds of small wild animals in a place like this."

He proceeded on his way again, but a dozen steps further came to another halt. Something lay in the snow at his feet. It was a fur glove. He picked it up, looked it over, and then, in his agitation, dropped it.

The glove was stained with blood!

"Can that be father's glove?" he thought. "And if it is, how does it happen that it is covered with blood?"

A shiver ran down his backbone that was not caused by the cold, and for the minute he could hardly move. He tried to call once more, but his throat was so dry he could scarcely make a sound. Again from a distance came that peculiar noise, low and muttering. He now recognized it as a growl, but whether of a dog or a wild beast he could not determine. He brought out the pistol he had placed in his pocket and held it ready for use.

"Footprints!" The word came from his lips involuntarily. He had reached a spot where the snow was only a few inches deep, and here the footprints of a man were plainly to be seen. They led through the belt of firs and then towards the jagged rocks at the base of a high cliff.

Again that suspicious growl reached him, and now Dave saw a dark object just as it disappeared around a corner of rock close to some brushwood.

"Was that a beast or a man crawling in the snow?" he asked himself. "That sound came from an animal, but the thing didn't look like a beast."

He went on, more cautiously than ever. Then he heard a sudden cry that made every nerve in his body tingle:

"Get back there! Get back, you brute!"

It was a man's voice, weak and exhausted, trying to keep off some wild beast. Then came a low growl, followed by the discharge of a pistol, and a few seconds later there came running toward Dave a full-grown bear, growling savagely and wagging its shaggy head from side to side. The youth was surprised but not taken off his guard, and as the animal came closer he leveled his weapon, took aim, and pulled the trigger. The bear had raised up on its hind legs and the bullet took it straight in the breast, inflicting a bad but not a mortal wound. Then Dave started to fire a second time, but in a twinkling the bear leaped over a low rock and disappeared in the brushwood. Listening, Dave heard it lumbering away, growling with rage and pain as it went.

"Hello!" came a faint voice. "Is that you, Lapham?"

"No, it is somebody else," answered Dave. He could scarcely speak, he was so agitated. "Where are you?"

"Here, near the cliff. I am wounded, and I--I----" The voice died out completely.

"I'm coming!" shouted Dave. "Just let me know where you are."

For a minute there was no answer, and Dave continued to call. Then came what was half call and half moan. With ears on the alert, the boy followed up the sounds and quickly came in sight of a man, wrapped up in a fur overcoat and crouched in a heap between two rocks at the base of the cliff. He held a pistol in his hand, but the weapon was empty.

For the instant man and boy faced each other--the former too weak to speak and the latter too agitated to do so. Dave's heart was beating like a trip-hammer and for the time being his surroundings were completely forgotten.

"Are you--are you----" he began. "Are you David Porter?" he blurted out.

"Yes," was the gasped-out reply. "Yo--you----"

"And you don't know me! Oh, father!"

"Eh? What's that?" asked the man, rising up slightly.

"You don't know me? But of course you don't--if you didn't get the letters and telegrams. I am your son, Dave Porter."

"My son? Wha--what do you mean? I--er--have no son. I had one, years and years ago, but----" Mr. Porter was too weak to go on. He sat staring at Dave in bewilderment.

"You lost him, I know. He was stolen from you. Well, I am that son. I have been looking for you for months. I found Uncle Dunston first, and then we sent letters and cablegrams to you, but no answer came back. Then I started out to hunt you up--and here I am." Dave was on his knees and holding his father's blood-stained hand in his own. "I see you are hurt; I'll----"

"My son? My son?" queried Mr. Porter, like one in a dream. "Can this be true?" He gazed unsteadily at Dave. Then he closed his eyes and went off into a dead faint. The youth was startled, for he saw that his parent might be dying. His hand was hurt and he had scratches on his ear, and one knee of his trousers was blood-stained.

"I must help him--he must not die!" thought Dave, and set to work with feverish haste, doing all that was possible under the circumstances. From his shirt he tore off the sleeves and used them as bandages. Then he rubbed his father's face with snow. Presently the man opened his eyes and stared again at Dave.

"Did yo--you say you were my--my son?" he asked, in a weak, incredulous voice.

"If you are David Breslow Porter, a twin brother to Dunston Porter."

"I am."

"Then I am your son--the one who was stolen from you by the nurse, Polly Margot, and her worthless husband, Sandy."

"It is--is marvellous! I can hardly believe it!" murmured Mr. Porter.

"But it is true--and I can easily prove it, father," answered the youth, in a happy tone. He bent over and kissed his parent. "Oh, I am so glad I have found you!"

"Yes! yes! I am glad too!" Mr. Porter's eyes began to beam. "But I--I--really can't understand it yet! I--my son, my little Dave! Why, it sounds like a fairy tale! I must be dreaming." He caught Dave by the shoulder. "Is it really, really so?"

"It is, father, and I'll explain it all after awhile. But now you are hurt, and you must take it easy. Did you tumble over the cliff, or did that bear----"

"Both, Dave. How queer it sounds to call you Dave, _my_ Dave!" Mr. Porter caught the boy around the neck. "I can't believe it yet--I really can't. Where have you been all these years? And how did you learn----"

"I'll tell you afterwards, father--when we are safe. Then you fell over the cliff?"

"Yes, and while I was trying to crawl away to some spot to rest the bear got after me and scratched me in the ear. I let him have a bullet in his neck and that made him retreat. But then he came at me again, and I don't know what I should have done if it hadn't been for your arrival. The pistol is empty, as you can see."

"You heard my shot and you signaled back, didn't you?"

"Yes, I signaled back and shot at the bear at the same time. But that shot didn't hit him, although it made him keep his distance for awhile."

"I see your pistol is the same size as mine, so I'll load them both--in case the bear comes back." Dave set to work immediately and soon had the work completed. "Now you must have something to eat and to drink, and then you'll feel better."

He unslung his knapsack and brought forth his provisions, and sitting in the shelter of the cliff prepared a meal. Over some lighted brushwood he made a canteen of coffee, of which his father partook with satisfaction, and then ate a sandwich and some crackers and cheese. As he supplied his parent Dave told a good portion of his story, although he went into few details.

"It is queer that I never received any of those letters and cablegrams," said Mr. Porter. "Yet you must remember I thought your uncle was still among the South Sea Islands. He wrote to me that he was going on a trip that might last two years or more and might not be able to write to me for some time. Laura, your sister--how surprised she will be!--and myself traveled down to Rome and through Spain and then came up to Berlin. There I fell in with Hausermann and, later on, with Philip Lapham. They told me of this expedition into Norway, and got me interested financially. Your sister wanted to go to the United States, with some close friends, and I let her go and came up here. We traveled to Norway somewhat in secret, for we did not wish to let the object of our expedition become known. On that account we had some trouble with the police, who took us for political intriguers. After that we left no addresses behind us--which accounts for the non-delivery of the cablegram you sent to me from England."

"But what brought you up into this portion of Norway, father, and at this time of the year?"

"We came to locate a valuable mine, or rather a series of mines, in this section. Hausermann had some information about them, but had no money, and he came to me and then to Philip Lapham, and we 'staked' the expedition, as miners call it. We came up this winter because we heard that three other parties were coming up next spring and next summer, and we wanted to get in ahead."

"And have you done that?" asked Dave, with interest.

"Not as yet. We have found some traces of copper at one point and nickel at another, but not the rich deposits the information we possessed led us to believe could be located."

"Never mind, now we are together, perhaps you'll have better luck, father. I'll help you." Dave smiled broadly. "Tell me about yourself, and about my sister Laura, won't you?"

Both sat in front of the tiny camp-fire, Mr. Porter's bandaged head resting on Dave's shoulder, and a hand clasping that of the boy. They were supremely happy, and for the time being the world around them was forgotten. Mr. Porter told much about himself and of his travels, and Dave related how he had been raised at the poorhouse and taken care of by Caspar Potts and Oliver Wadsworth, and how he had fallen in with Billy Dill, the sailor, and gone to the South Sea Islands and found his Uncle Dunston.

"I know your sister Laura will be overjoyed to learn the news," said Mr. Porter. "She has often said how nice it would be if she had a sister or a brother. Since your mother's death we have been very lonely. Ah, if your mother could only have seen this day!" And the tears stood in Mr. Porter's eyes. Then he drew Dave to his breast, and a warm embrace by both followed.

They had completely forgotten their surroundings when a deep growl close at hand aroused them and caused the boy to leap to his feet. He gazed into the brushwood fronting the jagged rocks and the base of the cliff and uttered a cry of alarm.

"What is it, Dave?" questioned his father.

"Two bears--the one we wounded and another and bigger one."

CHAPTER XXIX

BEARS AND WOLVES

At the announcement from Dave, Mr. Porter tried to rise to his feet. He could not stand on both legs, and so had to rest against one of the rocks. From this point he, too, could see the two bears; but a moment later both animals were hidden completely by the brushwood and the snow.

"I am afraid they mean business," said Dave, anxiously.

"They are hungry and the deep snow has made it hard for them to get food," answered Mr. Porter.

"I thought bears went into winter quarters in a place like this."

"So they do sometimes, but not always. Besides, I disturbed the wounded bear when I fell over the cliff, and I presume that other beast is his mate."

"I wish I had a rifle. I could get a better shot than with this pistol."

"A good double-barreled shotgun would be a fine thing, Dave. But we'll have to use what we've got. Don't shoot until you are certain of your aim," added Mr. Porter.

A portion of his strength had come back to him, and the new alarm gave him temporary vigor. Yet he knew that to fight off two angry bears would not be easy, and he looked around for some better shelter than that which they at present possessed.

"Here is a small opening between the rocks,--let us back into it, if the bears press us too closely," said he.

He had scarcely spoken when the wounded bear advanced, followed closely by its mate. Dave waited until the foremost beast was within a dozen paces of him, then he fired. There was a growl of pain and the bear tumbled back, landing against its mate.

"Good!" cried Mr. Porter. "Look out!" he added, a second later. "The other one is coming!"

He was right. The bigger bear of the two came forward with a bound, landing almost at Dave's feet. Crack! crack! went Mr. Porter's pistol, and the huge animal was hit twice, in the breast and in the neck. The bear uttered a sound that was half growl and half yelp and then came on again. Crack! went Dave's pistol, and the bullet hit the beast directly in the teeth, knocking one of them down the animal's throat. Wounded and alarmed, the bear stood still, and again the boy fired, and then the bear turned and lumbered away into the brushwood, wounded just sufficiently to make it thoroughly disagreeable. The other bear followed; and the battle, for the time being, came to an end.

"Come, Dave, it is dangerous to stay out here," said Mr. Porter. "Let us go back into the hollow, and bring that fire with you if you can."

Mr. Porter crawled back and the youth followed, dragging the burning brushwood behind him. Then Dave took both pistols and reloaded the empty chambers with all possible speed.

"I see you have learned the first rule of hunting," said his father, with a smile.

"What is that?"

"Never to carry around an empty or partly empty weapon. I kept my pistol loaded up as long as I had any cartridges left."

"I wish I had some more brushwood to put on the fire--that would keep the beasts off. Wonder if I can't break some of the stuff off?"

"Don't go out yet, Dave--it's dangerous," pleaded Mr. Porter.

"I'll keep my eyes on the bears, never fear," was the reply.

With caution the youth crawled over to the nearest patch of brushwood, a distance of fifty feet. As he broke off some of the dry twigs a low growl reached his ears. But he kept at the task until he had as much as he thought he could carry.

But Dave never got the brushwood where he wanted it, for as he commenced to drag it along both bears leaped from their hiding-place and one landed almost on top of him. Crack! crack! went his pistol, and the weapon Mr. Porter possessed sounded out three times. Each bear was wounded again, but Dave received a blow from a rough paw that sent him headlong. He rolled over and over in the snow, and then leaped for the shelter, and his father dragged him to temporary safety. While this was going on the bears started to retreat. This time they left the brushwood entirely and stationed themselves behind the nearest belt of firs, about fifty yards away.

"I told you to be careful," said Mr. Porter, as Dave got up and faced about. "Are you seriously hurt?"

"N--no, bu--but that bear knocked me do--down as if he was a pri--prize-fighter!" gasped Dave. "Phew! but they are powerful!"

"If he hadn't been wounded he might have killed you. You must take no more chances. Promise me you won't, Dave. I don't want to lose you right after finding you!" And Mr. Porter turned an appealing look into the lad's eyes.

"I'll be on guard, father. And don't you take any chances either," added Dave, gazing at his father in a manner which spoke volumes.

They found the hollow under the cliff to be less than two yards deep and of about the same width. The rocks overhead hung down so that they touched Dave's head. In front was a small snowdrift, looking over which father and son could just make out the two bears, as they squatted on the ground between the firs. The beasts did considerable growling and did what they could to take care of their wounds, yet they showed no disposition to leave that vicinity.

"They must be very hungry," was Mr. Porter's comment. "Otherwise they wouldn't remain here after being punished so badly;" and he was right: the animals were well-nigh starved, hence their recklessness.

Half an hour went by, and Dave and his parent remained under the cliff. Without a fire it was extremely cold, and they had to stamp around to keep warm. At times Mr. Porter felt rather faint from his wounds, but he kept this from Dave as much as possible. Yet presently the boy noticed it.

"I must get you out of this soon," he said. "You need regular medical attention."

"I shan't mind it, Dave, if only I can keep warm."

"Maybe I can get that brushwood now, father."

"No, do not attempt it."

There was a spell of silence after that, and then Dave raised his pistol.

"Do you know what I am going to do?" he said. "I am going to discharge four shots at the bears. Even at this distance I ought to be able to do some damage."

"Well, you can try it, Dave. But I don't think you'll accomplish a great deal. Their hide is too tough."

Dave brushed the snow from the rocks in front of him, knelt down, and rested his arm with care. Then he took careful aim at the bear that had first appeared. Crack! went the pistol four times in rapid succession. The bear gave a leap, clawed at its face several times, and then, with a grunt of agony, turned and fled among the firs and out of sight.

"Hurrah! that did some damage!" cried the youth, as he started to reload. "Now I'll see if I can hit the other bear---- Hello, he's gone, too!"

The boy was right, the larger beast was also lumbering off, evidently frightened by the way its mate had been treated. Soon it, too, had disappeared from view. Mr. Porter and Dave watched for a long time, but neither animal came back.

"They may possibly return, but I doubt it," said Dave. "Anyway, I don't think they'll come back right away, and that will give us a chance to escape."

"Not if we must go back through that patch of timber, my son."

"Let us try to get away by walking along the base of the cliff. We are bound to strike some sort of a mountain trail sooner or later. But, pshaw, I forgot that you can't walk. Well, maybe I can carry you."

"No, it will be too much of a load, Dave. We had better wait awhile." And so they sat down and waited, after Dave had brought in the brushwood he had previously broken off. A roaring fire cheered them greatly, and once more each related his experiences. Mr. Porter told how he had traveled in many parts of the world, and said that Dave must some day do the same. He asked the youth about his education, and when Dave related how he had won the medal of honor at Oak Hall his face beamed with pleasure.

"I certainly owe Professor Potts and Mr. Wadsworth a good deal," he said. "And I shall not forget them. You could not have fallen among better friends."

"I believe that," answered Dave, warmly. "Professor Potts and all of the Wadsworths have been just as good as they could be to me."

Almost before they knew it darkness came on. Dave brought in more of the brushwood and even dragged over some limbs of a fallen fir. Luckily he had brought along enough provisions for several meals, and they proceeded to make themselves as comfortable as possible in the hollow of the cliff. They ate slowly, talking the while and each smiling warmly into the face of the other.

"It seems almost too good to be true," said Mr. Porter, not once but several times.

"And, oh, I am so thankful!" responded Dave.

Mr. Porter was so weak he needed sleep, so Dave told his parent to lie down on some of the brushwood, which he spread out as a couch next to the rocky wall.

"But what will you do, my son?" asked Mr. Porter.

"I'll remain on guard--so those bears don't get a chance to surprise us."

"But aren't you sleepy?"

"No--I'm so happy I don't think I'll be able to sleep for a week."

Mr. Porter lay down and closed his eyes, but it was a good hour before he dropped into a doze. Dave sat by the fire, where he could look at his father's face. It seemed as if he would never get done gazing at those features, so like his Uncle Dunston's.

"Found at last!" he murmured. "Found at last, and thank God for it!"

Two hours passed, and still Dave sat in the same position, thinking of the past and speculating on the future. He thought of his sister Laura and wondered how soon they would meet, and if she and Jessie would become friends.

"What's that?"

The boy leaped to his feet, and the sudden movement aroused his father. Both listened to a yelping and a growling at a distance. The yelping grew louder and louder, while the growling grew fainter.

"I know what it is!" cried Dave, at length. "Some wolves have gotten on the trail of those wounded bears. Now there will be a battle royal!"

"You must be right, Dave. Hark! The wolves must number a dozen or more."

"Sounds like about half a hundred to me, father."

The battle took place at the far end of the forest of firs and gradually grew fainter and fainter. Mr. Porter shook his head doubtfully.

"I don't like this, Dave."

"What, aren't you glad that the bears have been attacked? I am."

"It isn't that. If those wolves want more meat they'll follow up that bloody trail--and it leads directly over here."