THE SIGHTS OF CHRISTIANIA AND OTHER MATTERS.
As there was in Christiania much to be seen that needed explanation, the students were required to keep together, and several guides from the hotel were obtained, to conduct the party to the various objects of interest in the city. A walk through some of the principal streets brought them to the new Parliament house, which is called theStorthingsbyggningen. It is a fine building, but with nothing remarkable about it. In the lower house, the students seated themselves in the chairs of the members, and Mr. Mapps took the speaker’s desk.
“Christiania was founded in 1624, on the site of the ancient city of Osloe, which was destroyed by fire. It is the residence of the king during his sojourn in Norway, and the new palace, which you saw on the hill, was completed for his use in 1848. The city, as you have seen, is regularly laid out, and the buildings are either of brick or stone. Formerly the dwellings were of wood, but the frequent fires caused the adoption of a law that no more wooden buildings should be erected within the precincts of the city. The place has considerable commerce, and now contains nearly sixty thousand inhabitants.
“A street here is called agade, and you observe that the street and its name form one word, as Carl-Johansgade, or Charles John Street; Kongensgade, or King Street; Kirkegaden, or Church Street. The same word is used in German.
“The money of Norway is different from that of Sweden or Denmark. The specie dollar, which is generally called a ‘specie,’ is the unit, and contains five marks of twenty-four skillings each. A specie, orspecie-daler, as it is written, is worth about one dollar and eight cents of our money. It is near enough for our purpose to say that a mark is twenty-two cents, and a skilling one cent. The coins in circulation are the mark, the two, the four, and the twelve skilling piece. Species and half species are coined, but paper money is generally used for large sums, each denomination being printed on a particular colored paper.
“It is probable that the French system of weights and measures will soon be introduced in Sweden and Norway; but now a Norwegianpundis one and one tenth pounds avoirdupois; afodis twelve and two hundredths inches; and akandeis three and three tenths pints.”
Mr. Mapps descended from the rostrum, and after the party had looked at the chamber of the upper house, and other apartments, they walked to the king’s palace—the first royal dwelling which most of the students ever saw. They passed through the throne room, the court saloon, the dining room, and other rooms, and some of them concluded that royalty was not half so splendid as they had supposed. But Norway is a poor country compared with many othersin Europe, and it is a pity that she ever thought it necessary to spend a million and a half of dollars in a weak attempt to imitate the grandeur of other realms. There was nothing in the palace to astonish even our young republicans, though the rooms of the queen, on the first floor, were pretty and prettily furnished. The building, which is a great, overgrown structure, without symmetry or elegance, is in a beautiful situation, and surrounded by pleasant grounds, well laid out, from which a fine view of the city and fjord is obtained.
Connected with the university are several museums and cabinets, which are open to the public, and well worth a visit, though they do not compare with those of the great cities of Europe. The party walked through all these rooms, one of which contained a small collection of northern antiquities. From the university the students went to a kind of garden, which is a weak imitation of “Tivoli,” in Copenhagen, containing promenades, concert room, a small opera house, and a drinking saloon. The castle of Agershuus, on a hill at the southern side of the city, was next visited. Its guns command the harbor, and it is regarded as a place of great strength, for it has successfully resisted several sieges. Climbing a long flight of steps, the party reached the ramparts, which are laid out in walks, and are much resorted to by the citizens, as they command a lovely view of the fjord and the surrounding country. A portion of the castle is used as a prison, and the convicts work in gangs about the premises.
“This was Robin Hood’s prison—wasn’t it, Mr.Mapps?” asked Lincoln, who had an inquiring mind, after he had enjoyed the prospect from the ramparts for a while.
“I think not,” replied the instructor. “Höyland, sometimes called the Robin Hood, but, I think, more properly the Baron Trenck, of Norway, was sentenced to imprisonment for life in this castle.”
“What for?” inquired Norwood.
“For robbery and other crimes. Like Robin Hood and Mike Martin, he robbed the rich and gave to the poor, which none of you should believe makes the crime any less wicked; especially as he did not scruple to use violence in accomplishing his purpose. For some small theft he was shut up in this prison; but while the overseer was at church, Höyland broke into his room, stole some of his clothes, and quietly walked out of the castle and out of the town. He was recaptured, but repeatedly made his escape. Though he was heavily ironed, this precaution was found to be useless, and he was placed in solitary confinement in the lowest room of the citadel, where he was kept securely for several years. One evening his jailer told him that he could never get out of this room, and that he might as well promise not to attempt such an impossible feat; but Höyland replied that it was the turnkey’s duty to keep him in prison if he could, and his to get out if it were possible. The next day the prisoner was missing, and the means of his escape were not at first apparent; but on further examination it was found that he had cut through the thick plank flooring of his cell, under the bed, and tunnelled under the wall into the yard of the prison.He had replaced the planks when he left, and passing over the ramparts without difficulty, dropped into the ditch, and departed without bidding any one good by. All attempts to find him were unsuccessful, and it was believed that he had left the country.
“A year afterwards the National Bank of Norway was robbed of sixty thousandspecie-dalers, in the most adroit and skilful manner, even without leaving any marks of violence on the iron box in which the money was kept. Not long after this occurrence, in the person of a prisoner who had been committed to the castle for a petty theft, the officers recognized Höyland. He was considerate enough to inform the authorities that his late escape had been effected, after three years of patient labor, with no other tool than a nail, while others slept. As a portion of his ill-gotten wealth was concealed in the mountains, he had the means of making friends in Christiania, where he had hidden himself. Making the acquaintance of the bank watchman, he cunningly obtained wax impressions of the key-holes of the locks on the money-chest, by which he made keys, opened the box, took the money, and locked it after him. But, like all other evil-doers, he came to grief at last. Though he was a skilful carver in wood and stone, he was not allowed to have tools, of which he made a bad use, and he was compelled to amuse himself by knitting socks on wooden pins. Unable to escape again, and not having the patience to exist without something to do, in utter despair he committed suicide in his prison.”
After the visit to the fortress, the boys were allowed to walk about the city at their own pleasure; and afew of the officers went with Mr. Lowington and the doctor to the establishment of Mr. Bennett, an Englishman, who fitted out travellers intending to journey in the interior with carioles and all the other requisites. His rooms were stored with books and Norwegian curiosities and antiquities. In the court-yard of the house was a large number of second-hand carioles, which are the sole vehicles used for crossing the country. A traveller, wishing to go to Trondhjem or Bergen, would purchase the cariole in Christiania, and when he had done with it, dispose of it at the other end of his route, horses between being supplied according to law at the post stations on the road. Travellers coming from Trondhjem or Bergen sell their vehicles to Mr. Bennett. In his rooms are miniature models of the cariole for sale, which visitors purchase as a memento of their tour; as those who climb Pilatus and Rhigi, in Switzerland, buy an alpenstock on which are printed the names of the mountains they have ascended with its help.
The principal and his companions walked up to the Victoria Hotel, and inquired for Captain Kendall. He had just returned from a ride, and while the waiter was taking Mr. Lowington’s card to him, Peaks presented himself in the court-yard.
“Can’t find him, sir,” said the boatswain, touching his hat.
“He must be somewhere in the city.”
“This man has toted me all over the town, but we can’t hear a word of him. He wore the uniform of the ship, and people can’t tell one student from another.”
“I am confident he has not left the city.”
“Perhaps he has,” replied Peaks, as the servant returned, followed by Captain Kendall.
“Have you lost anything or anybody?” asked Paul, laughing, after he had saluted the principal.
“Yes, we have lost a student; an English boy we shipped at Christiansand. Have you seen him?”
“Yes, sir; his room is No. 32—next to mine,” replied Paul, still laughing, as though he were much amused.
He was much amused; and that others may sympathize with him, let the reader return to Clyde Blacklock, who had shut himself up in his room to await the arrival of his mother. He had not been in the house ten minutes before he began to be impatient and disgusted with his self-imposed confinement. He examined himself carefully in the looking-glass, and was satisfied that his new clothes disguised him from his late shipmates, and also from those whom he had met on board of the Orlando. Certainly they had wrought a very great change in his appearance, and with the round-top hat on, which was entirely different from anything he had worn before, even his mother would not recognize him, unless they came near enough together to enable her to scrutinize his features. Of course none of the people from the squadron would come to the hotel, and he had not yet been called upon to register his name.
He unlocked his door, and went into the long entry which opened into the court-yard. It was stupid to stay alone in his chamber. It was some relief even to promenade the hall, for one so nervous as he was atthis time. If any of the Orlando’s passengers came near him, he could retreat into his room. He walked up and down several times, but this soon became stale amusement.
“Who’s in the next room to mine?” he asked, as one of the waiters passed him in his promenade.
“Gentleman and lady from America, sir,” replied the man; “an uncommon handsome young woman, sir.”
Before the waiter could further express his opinion of the guests in No. 31, Paul Kendall came out of the room, and, seeing the servant, ordered a carriage to be ready in half an hour.
“Is there much to see in this place, sir?” asked Clyde, politely.
“Not much, I think,” replied Paul.
“I dare say you are going into the interior, sir.”
“Not far.”
“There is fine fishing there,” persisted Clyde.
“So I am told; but I haven’t much time to spend in such sport, and I am afraid my wife would not enjoy it as well as I should. Do you go to the interior?”
“Yes, sir; I intend to do so when my mother and sister arrive. My mother goes a-fishing with me.”
“Does she, indeed? You are from England, I suppose,” added Paul, who suspected that the young man was one of those lonesome travellers eager to make a friend, and actually suffering from the want of one.
“Yes; Mockhill Manor, New Forest, Hampshire.”
“Are you travelling alone?” asked Paul, who wasfull of sympathy for the apparent loneliness of the young man.
“I am alone just now, but I expect my mother and sister from Christiansand to-night,” replied Clyde.
“Can I do anything for you?” inquired Paul, who, after this explanation, did not regard the young gentleman’s situation as so hopeless.
In his own travels he had himself experienced that sense of loneliness which is a decided misery, and had met others afflicted with it. From the manner of Clyde, he concluded he had an attack of it, and he desired to alleviate his sufferings; but if the young man’s friends were coming that night, his case could not be desperate.
“No, sir; I don’t know that you can. I thought, as your room is next to mine, we might make it jolly for each other. You are an American, sir, the waiter says.”
“Yes, I am,” laughed Paul.
“But you don’t talk through the nose.”
“Don’t I? Well, I don’t perceive that you do, either.”
“I’m not a Jonathan,” protested Clyde. “I dare say you are a fine gentleman, but I can’t say that of all the Americans.”
“Can’t you? Well, I’m sorry for them. Can you say it of all the Englishmen?”
“Yes, sir; I think I can of all we meet travelling. The Americans are big bullies. I settled accounts with one of them this very day,” chuckled Clyde.
“Ah! did you, indeed?”
“I think some of them know what it is to bully andinsult an Englishman by this time,” added Clyde, rubbing his hands, as he thought of poor Peaks, floundering in the waters of the Fjord. “Perhaps you’ve heard of that American Academy ship that came into Christiania to-day.”
“Yes, I have heard of her,” answered Paul, curiously.
“I saw her first at Christiansand, and went on board of her with my mother and sister. I liked the looks of her, and fancied the young chaps on board of her were having a nice time. I wanted to ship in her, and I did so; but I was never among such a set of tyrants in the whole course of my life.”
“Then you joined the ship,” replied Paul, who had heard of the new addition to the Young America’s crew, but had not seen him.
“I’m blamed if I didn’t; but before my mother left the ship, a big bully of a boatswain insulted me, and I changed my mind. Yet the head master persuaded my mother to let him keep me in the ship, and I’m blamed if she didn’t leave me there.”
“Left you there,” added Paul, when Clyde paused, apparently to give his auditor the opportunity to express his sympathy for his unfortunate situation.
“Yes, sir; she left me there, and she won’t hear the last of it for one year,” replied Clyde, shaking his head. “It was a mean trick, and I’ll pay her for it.”
“Probably she did it for the best,” suggested Paul, disgusted with the assurance, and especially with the want of respect for his mother which the youth manifested, though he was anxious to hear the conclusion of his story.
“I don’t care what she did it for; it was a scurvy trick. I told her I wouldn’t stay in the ship, any how, and she permitted the big boatswain to hold me while she went ashore in a boat. But I knew myself, if my mother didn’t know me, and I determined not to stay in her three days; and I didn’t,” chuckled Clyde, as he thought of what he called his own cleverness.
“What did you do?” asked Paul, deeply interested.
“I was willing to bide my time, and so I hauled sheets, and luffed, and tacked, and all that sort of thing, till we got to Christiania. When I was pulling the main boom, or something of that kind,—I don’t just know what it was now,—one of the fellows in gold bands insulted me.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He ordered me to be silent, and another nob did the same thing. I offered to fight them both, and I would have liked to show them what an English boy’s fist is made of; but the cowards set the boatswain on me again. I would have licked him if he had fought fair; but he caught me foul, and I could do nothing. I meant to be even with that big boatswain, and I think I am,” said Clyde, rubbing his hands again with delight, and laughing heartily when he thought of his brilliant achievement.
“Well, what did you do?”
“I just waited till the ship got to Christiania; and then, when all the students were at dinner, I found the big boatswain sitting on a beam that runs out over the water—I forget what they call the beam, but it’s at the bow of the ship.”
“The bowsprit,” suggested Paul.
“No; I know the bowsprit. It wasn’t that. There was another beam like it on the other side.”
“O, the cat-head!”
“That’s just it. Well, I went up to the big boatswain, and asked him to look at a ship,—or a ’mofferdite brig, he called it. He looked, and I just gave him a push, which dropped him off the cat’s head into the bay,” continued Clyde, who told his story with many a chuckle and many a laugh, seeming to enjoy it hugely himself, in spite of the want of sympathy on the part of his listener.
“You pushed him overboard!” exclaimed Paul.
“That I did, and did it handsomely, too. He never knew what hurt him till he struck the water. He swam for the bow, and I dropped into a boat, and came ashore. I saw him climb up to the deck, but I was out of his way then. Wasn’t that cleverly done?”
“Rather,” replied Paul, concealing his indignation.
“I think it was very cleverly done,” added Clyde, annoyed at the coolness of his companion. “You couldn’t have done it better yourself, sir.”
“I don’t think I could,” replied Paul, dryly. “And you expect your mother this evening.”
“Yes; and she shall take my name off the books of the ship.”
“Perhaps she will not.”
“O, but she will. Then the two nobs that insulted me on the ship shall hear from me.”
“What do you intend to do with them?”
“I’ll whip them both; if I don’t my name isn’t Clyde Blacklock!”
“But they will take you back to the ship before your mother arrives.”
“I dare say they will, if they see me; but I don’t intend to go out of the hotel till my mother comes. I shall stay in my room, or near it, the rest of the day.”
The conversation was interrupted by the appearance of Mrs. Kendall, who had been preparing for a ride about the city. Paul conducted her to the carriage, satisfied that the new scholar could be found when wanted. During their excursion he told his wife the adventures of Clyde.
“But what a simpleton he was to tell you these things!” added Grace.
“He did not suspect me of knowing anything about the ship. He is one of those fellows, who, having done what he regards as a good thing, cannot help boasting of it. He considers himself a first-class hero.”
When Paul returned from the ride, he found Clyde still walking about the hall, as uneasy as a fish out of water.
“Did you see anything of the Academy ship, sir?” asked he, after Mrs. Kendall had gone to her room.
“I saw her at anchor in the harbor, and all her people are walking about the town,” replied Paul.
“I’ve kept clear of them so far; but I want to catch the two fellows with the gold bands.”
“Perhaps some of them will catch you.”
“Not they! I’m too cunning for clumsy fellows like them.”
“I see you are,” laughed Paul, amused at the assurance of the young Briton.
“If I see them, I’ll settle the Alabama claims withthem on my own account. But you ought to have seen the big boatswain floundering in the water, sir.”
“No doubt it was very funny.”
“It was, indeed,” added Clyde, as the waiter appeared, and handed a card to Captain Kendall.
“In the court yard, sir,” said the servant; and Paul followed the man to the place where the visitors were waiting.
Peaks, as dry, clean, and good-natured as ever, was talking to Mr. Lowington. Paul could not help laughing as he thought of the confidence which Clyde had reposed in him, and that the fugitive had voluntarily, and without any precautions, told his adventures to one who really belonged to the fleet.
“He has told me all about it,” said Paul.
“Told you?” exclaimed Mr. Lowington.
“Yes, sir; how he pushed Peaks overboard, and then ran away,” laughed Paul. “I don’t often wear my uniform on shore, for my wife thinks it attracts too much attention; so that he did not suspect me of any connection with the fleet.”
“But where is he now?” asked the principal.
“I left him in the hall only a moment since.”
“Show me his room, my hearty,” said Peaks to the waiter.
“Call a carriage,” added Mr. Lowington. “He will make a disturbance in the streets.”
The servant led the way to the room of Clyde, followed by the rest of the party. All were rather anxious to see the clever Briton, who had done such wonders of valor and cunning, captured.
But Clyde had a pair of eyes, and, withal, a pair ofears. From the hall where he promenaded were several doors opening into the court-yard. Perhaps the youth had a Yankee’s curiosity to see who called upon his new acquaintance, and he went to one of these doors. He saw Paul walk up to the principal, and shake hands with him. There was the big boatswain too, and there were two of the nobs with the gold bands. It was evident enough to Clyde, then, that he had made a blunder in relating his exploits to a stranger. But the battle was not lost yet. His chamber was on the ground floor, and had a window which opened into Dronningensgaden. Without losing another instant, he opened the window, and dropped out into the street. He did not even wait to take the bundle which contained his ship’s uniform.
When Peaks entered the chamber, the bird had flown, and the open window indicated the means by which he had escaped; but Clyde had several minutes the start of his pursuers, and had made good use of his time. The boatswain dropped out of the window, followed by Norwood and Lincoln, while the principal and the doctor went round by the doors as the more dignified means of egress. Peaks went one way, and the two lieutenants the other way.
Clyde, fearful that haste might look suspicious, walked a short distance, till he came to a building on which was a sign,Hôtel du Nord, and which appeared to be under repairs. He stepped in at the open door, and went up stairs. Men were at work in some of the rooms; but he avoided them, and appeared to be looking over the building. At last he came to an open window on the street from which he had entered. Helooked out, and in the distance saw his pursuers running rapidly in opposite directions. After he had remained in the hotel about an hour, he ventured to leave, and walked very cautiously up the street. Feeling the need of an overcoat, he entered a store, and purchased one, which still further disguised him, so that if he met any of his late shipmates, they would be still less likely to recognize him. He walked till he came to a carriage stand; where, entering a vehicle, he pointed in the direction he wished to go, which was towards the king’s palace. When the driver stopped at the gate, he pointed towards the hills in the rear of the city. The Norwegian looked astonished, and could not understand him.
“I want to go out of town.”
The driver drove his horse to the other side of the street, and hailed a short, stout man, who was passing at the time.
“Do you want a guide, sir?” asked the stranger.
“Yes,” promptly replied Clyde.
“Where do wish to go?”
“Over there,” replied Clyde, pointing again in the direction he wished to go.
“To Sandviken?”
“Yes; that’s the place,” added the youth, who did not care where he went, if he could only get out of the city.
“It is more than eight miles,” suggested the guide.
“I don’t care if it is eighty; that’s where I want to go. Are you acommissionaire?”
“Yes. I belong to the Victoria Hotel.”
“All right; jump in.”
The man made a bargain with the driver, and in a few moments Clyde was on his way to Sandviken, confident that he had escaped any further pursuit. He had already come to the conclusion not to see his mother until after the Young America had left Christiania.
In the mean time, Peaks had given up the chase. Paul assured the principal that Clyde would come back as soon as his mother arrived. Mr. Lowington did not care to have the new scholar see his mother again if he was to be a student in the Academy; but as Clyde could not be found, there appeared to be no alternative.
In a couple of hours, the fugitive reached Sandviken, where he informed his astonished guide that he intended to proceed to Christiansand by land. His courier was willing to go with him so long as he was paid; and as Clyde had plenty of money, and disbursed it freely, there was no difficulty. Though the next day was Sunday, the young traveller continued his journey, and on Monday afternoon arrived at Apalstö, at the head of one of the inland lakes, where he intended to sleep; but the station-house was full. Clyde was tired, and did not feel like going any farther. While he was sending his courier to look up a bed for him, about a dozen boys wearing the uniform of the Academy ship flashed upon his view. He was astonished and alarmed. He suspected that this party had been sent to the interior to head him off. He was determined not to be an easy victim.
One of the party had a good-sized salmon in his hand, which indicated that they had been a-fishing.
They took no notice of him, though they could not help seeing him, and Clyde took courage from this circumstance.
The fishing squad was composed of the crew of the second cutter—the unfortunates who had been run down by the steamer.
THE EXCURSION WITHOUT RUNNING AWAY.
The second cutter was a wreck on the water, and the crew saved themselves by climbing up the bow of the steamer which had run down the boat. They received prompt assistance from those on board, and, as the cutter did not sink, and would not have done so, having no ballast, even if she had been cut in two, the crew were so well trained that not one of them was guilty of the absurdity of jumping overboard, and therefore no one was even very wet.
It appeared to be one of those cases where both parties had struggled to avoid the catastrophe, but the more they struggled the worse was the situation. If the cutter, on the one hand, had continued on her course, she would have escaped. If the steamer, on the other hand, had not changed her course when the calamity was threatened, the boat could have avoided her. The change of purpose in each had confused the other, and rendered unavailing the attempt to avoid the collision. The boat would have gone clear of the steamer if the latter had not put her helm to starboard. But the catastrophe was accomplished so quickly that there was not much time to philosophize; and as nothing worse than a stove boat had resultedfrom it, there was not much reason to complain. We are not aware that any one did complain; and we only state the appearances, not the facts.
The steamer started her wheels again after the cutter had been secured and made fast astern. The captain spoke only a few words of English, and Sanford found it quite impossible to hold a conversation with him. But Ole Amundsen was at hand in this emergency.
“Tell him he needn’t stop for us, Ole,” said the coxswain.
“Don’t you want to return to the ship?” asked the astonished waif.
“No, no,” replied Sanford, in a low tone, so that some of the doubtful members of his crew might not hear him. “Where is the steamer going, Ole?”
“To Christiania, stopping at all the ports on the coast,” answered Ole, when he had obtained the information from the captain.
“All right; we will go to the first place where she stops,” added Sanford. “Don’t say a word to the rest of the fellows, Ole.”
“The first port she stops at is Lillesand,” said Ole.
“Very well; we will go there.”
Ole explained to the captain that the boys he had picked up wished to go to Lillesand, where they could join their ship. This plan exactly suited the young Norwegian, for he did not like the idea of being landed at Christiansand, or taken back to the ship.
“Where are we going? Why don’t he put us on shore, or on board of the ship?” demanded Burchmore.
“It’s a mail steamer; she is very late,” replied Ole.
“But is she going to carry us off, because she is in a hurry?”
“Only to a port up here a little ways. We can come right back in another steamer,” Ole explained; and Burchmore was satisfied.
Now, the captain had certainly declared that he was in a great hurry, and was not willing to wait for the boat which had put off from the ship; but he proposed to hail a boat which was passing, and send his involuntary passengers to the town in her. Ole assured him his companions wished to go to Lillesand, and he was too glad to avoid any delay. As the first cutter followed the steamer, it was decided, after consultation with the captain, to turn the stove boat adrift, so that it could be towed back to the ship by the first cutters. Sanford cast off the painter, and the pliant master of the steamer was glad to get rid of this check upon the speed of his boat. The boys watched the water-logged craft till it was picked up by the first cutter, and then passing behind an island, the squadron was out of view.
“How came you here, Ole?” asked Rodman.
“Came in the boat; but I didn’t think you were going to smash her. I thought I was killed that time, sure,” laughed the waif.
“But how came you in the boat?” inquired Wilde.
“I got in, of course; nobody put me in.”
“When?”
“When it hung at the davits in the ship, just before the pilot came on board.”
“What do you get in there for?”
“My education has been neglected, and I have todo a great deal of thinking to make up for it. I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m thinking; so I got into the boat, and covered myself with the sail.”
“Tell that to the fishes,” snuffed Wilde.
“You can, if you wish; I don’t speak their language,” laughed Ole.
“But really, Norway, what did you get into the second cutter for?” said Sanford.
“The pilot was a first cousin of mine, and I was afraid he would whip me for making faces at him when I was a baby. He never forgets anything.”
“Nonsense!”
“Well, if you know better than I, don’t ask me any more about it.”
Ole was no more inclined to explain how he came in the second cutter than he had been to solve the mystery of being in a water-logged bateau, out of sight of land. It only appeared that while the students covered the rail and crowded the rigging to see the land, he had put himself into the boat. When the hands were called to man the braces, he, having no duty to perform, had not answered the call, and was left alone in the cutter. At sea, every precaution was taken to provide for the safety of the crew in case of any calamity. Each boat was provided with a sail, a mast, a compass, and several breakers of water, and a quantity of provisions was ready to be put in when needed. Ole stowed himself beneath the sail, which lay under the middle board, extending fore and aft. Before De Forrest took his place in the stern-sheets, Stockwell had discovered the absentee, and communicated the fact of his presence to those near him. Thecrew of the second cutter were entirely willing to keep his secret, as they were that of any one who needed their help. Among such boys it was regarded as dishonorable in the highest degree to betray any one; and, indeed, the principal discountenanced anything like “tale-bearing,” to which the students gave a very liberal construction. Sanford had proposed that De Forrest should take a walk on shore, in order to give Ole an opportunity to escape from his confinement, which, on account of the singular obstinacy and suspicion of that officer, had threatened to be indefinitely continued, till the collision came to his aid.
“How’s this?” said Stockwell, as he seated himself by the side of the coxswain, on one of the settees on the quarter-deck of the steamer.
“How’s what?” asked Sanford.
“It seems to me that we are clear of the ship, and without running away.”
“Don’t say a word. We got spilled out the boat, and it was not our doing. We obeyed De Forrest’s orders to the very letter, so that no fault can be found with us.”
“Of course not.”
“If De Forrest had not ordered me to shove off, I shouldn’t have done so.”
“Then the boat might have been ground up on the rocks.”
“Do you see anything green in my eye?” replied Sanford, suggestively.
“You don’t mean to say that you smashed the boat on purpose?”
“Certainly I don’t mean tosayanything of thesort. I obey orders if I break owners, or boats either, for that matter.”
“What are you going to do next?”
“I don’t know. The programme is to go back in the steamer that returns to Christiansand to-morrow night.”
“O, then you mean to go back.”
“Your head’s as thick as the broadside of an iron-clad. Of course I mean to go back.”
“Immediately?”
“In the next boat.”
Stockwell did not exactly like the sharp way with which Sanford dealt with his innocence. Certainly the coxswain and himself had talked about an excursion to the interior of Norway without running away; but now, though the circumstances favored the plan, his friend plainly announced his intention to return to Christiansand and join the ship. But it could be said of the coxswain that his ways were dark, and Stockwell was more inclined to wait than to question him. In two hours the steamer arrived at Lillesand, and the party went on shore. The place was only a small village, but they found accommodations for the night.
“What time does the steamer for Christiansand leave this place?” asked Sanford, as the party gathered at the station-house, which is the hotel, post-office, and establishment for furnishing horses to travellers.
“To-morrow evening,” replied Ole.
“To-morrow evening!” exclaimed the coxswain. “That will never do! What time?”
“About eight o’clock,” answered the waif, whosedevotion to the truth did not prevent him from stating the time two hours later than the fact warranted. “She may be two or three hours later.”
“The squadron sails for Christiania to-morrow afternoon,” added Sanford. “The ship will be gone before we can get there.”
“She will not go without us,” suggested Burchmore.
“Yes, she will,” said Stockwell, who was beginning to fathom the dark ways of the coxswain. “The principal will suppose we have gone on to Christiania.”
“That’s so.”
“But what are we to do?” demanded Tinckner.
“That’s the question,” added Sanford, with a blank look, as though he considered the situation as utterly hopeless.
“We are not so badly off as we might be,” said Boyden.
“I don’t see how it could be any worse,” replied Sanford. “But I don’t know that it is our fault. The captain of the steamer would not stop, after he had picked us up; at least, I don’t know anything about it; but Ole said he wouldn’t stop.”
“He could not stop,” protested the waif, vehemently. “He had only just time enough to reach Frederiksværn in season for the other steamer. If he lost her, he would be turned off. He wouldn’t stop for love or money.”
“No matter, for that; here we are, and what are we going to do? It’s no use to cry for spilled milk,” continued Stockwell. “The ship will go to Christiania,and won’t come near this place. Mr. Lowington will expect to find us there when he arrives, and all we have to do is to make good his calculation. We have plenty of money, and we can get there somehow or other.”
Involuntarily, every fellow put his hands into his pocket; and then, if not before, they recalled the suggestion of the coxswain, made before they took their places in the cutter, that they should bring their money and their pea-jackets; but then, it seemed simply absurd that the boat had been smashed by his contrivance.
“Was it for this, Sanford, that you told us to bring our money?” said Burchmore.
“I should say a fellow ought always to carry his money with him. No one can tell what will happen to him when he goes away from the ship,” replied the coxswain. “You can see that it’s lucky you have it with you. We might have to spend the summer here if we had no money. When will a steamer go from here to Christiania, Norway?”
“Next Friday—just a week from to-day,” replied the Norwegian, very seriously.
“A week!” exclaimed Burchmore.
“That is not long; a week is soon gone.”
“But we can’t stay here a week,” protested Tinckner.
“I don’t want to do it,” added Sanford; “but if we have to do it, I suppose I can stand it as well as the rest of you.”
“We can’t any of us stand it,” said Wilde. “Who’s going to stay a week in such a place as this? I’m not, for one. I’ll swim up to Christiansand first.”
“Can’t we hire a boat, and go back to Christiansand?” Burchmore proposed. “It is not more than twenty miles, and it would be a fine sail among these beautiful islands.”
“All right; look up a boat, Norway,” replied Sanford, as though entirely willing to adopt this plan.
Ole walked about the place for half an hour, accompanied by three of the boys. Perhaps he was careful not to find what he wanted; at any rate, no boat seemed to be available for the purpose desired, and when the excursionists met again, it was reported that no boat suitable for the accommodation of the party could be found.
“Then can’t we engage horses, and go round to Christiansand by land?” inquired Burchmore.
“In carioles?” queried Ole, with an odd smile.
“Carioles or wagons; anything we can find.”
“You can, but it will take you a day and a half,” replied Ole.
“A day and a half to go twenty miles.”
“About seventy miles by land,” added Ole. “You must go almost up to the north pole before you can cross the river.”
“O, nonsense!” exclaimed Burchmore, who could not help feeling that Ole was not altogether reliable on his figures and facts.
“If you don’t believe it, go and ask the postmaster, or any one in the town,” continued the waif.
“That’s all very well to talk about asking any one, when no one speaks a syllable of English.”
“I will do the talking for you.”
“Of course you will; you have done it all thus far.”
“I don’t mean to say that you must really double the north pole, or that it is just seventy miles by land; but it’s a long distance,” Ole explained.
“No matter how far it is; we will go,” added the pliant coxswain. “I’m willing to do whatever the fellows wish. It shall not be said that I was mulish.”
“But if it is seventy miles, or anything like it, we couldn’t get to Christiansand before the ship left.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” answered Sanford, with a puzzled expression on his face. “Ole says it is a long way, and I have been told that these Norwegians are very honest, and will not lie; so I suppose he has told the truth.”
It was barely possible that the waif had learned to lie in England, where he had acquired his English.
“I suppose we must give up the idea of going in a boat, or going by land. We can only wait till the steamer comes,” continued Burchmore, putting on a very long face.
“We can’t stand that,” protested Wilde.
“Well, what are you going to do?” demanded Burchmore.
“Can’t you tell us, Norway?” said Tinckner.
“I know what I should do if I were in your situation, and wanted to make a sure thing of it.”
“Well, what?” asked Burchmore, gathering a hope from the words of the waif.
“I should go to Christiania.”
“But how?”
“By land, of course.”
“It’s up by the north pole.”
“It is about a hundred and fifty miles from here bywater, and it can’t be any more by land,” said Sanford. “But I don’t care what you do; I will do as the others say.”
“I like the idea,” added Stockwell. “It is the only safe thing we can do. If we go back to Christiansand, we shall be too late for the ship. If we wait for a steamer to Christiania, she will be gone when we get there.”
“How much will it cost to go to Christiania in this way?” inquired Wilde, who did not feel quite sure that his funds would stand such a drain.
“Here are the prices in the post-house,” said Ole, as he led the way to a partition on which the posting was put up. “For one mile, one mark six skillings.”
“We know all about it now,” laughed Rodman. “What’s a mark, and what’s a skilling?”
“Twenty-four skillings make a mark, and a skilling is about a halfpenny English,” Ole explained.
“About a cent of our money,” continued Rodman. “One mark and six skillings would be thirty skillings, or about thirty cents.”
“That will never do,” interposed Wilde, shaking his head. “One hundred and fifty miles, at thirty cents a mile, would be forty-five dollars; and I suppose we have to pay for our grub besides.”
“It would come to ten or twelve pounds, and Wilde has only ten pounds,” added Rodman.
“No, no; you are all wrong. That means a Norwegian mile—about seven of ours. It would be only four and two sevenths cents a mile; say, six or seven dollars to Christiania; and the grub would cost as much more,” said Stockwell. “Three pounds willcover the whole expense, and that won’t break any body.”
After considerable discussion, it was agreed to adopt the plan proposed, and Ole was instructed to make the necessary arrangements with the station-master. The party went out to the stable to examine the carioles. They were a kind of gig, without any hood or top, with a small board behind, on which stands or sits the boy who drives the team back to the station after it has left the passenger. Tourists generally purchase the carioles in which they ride, and are not bothered with the boys. The students were not very nice about their accommodations; and finding that when two persons went in the same vehicle only half a fare extra was charged, they decided to engage but five carioles. As the law did not require the station-master to keep this number of horses in waiting, it was necessary to send “forbud” before the party started. This was an order to all the stations on the road to have five horses ready, and may be forwarded by mail or by special messenger, the expense of which was paid by the young tourists.
It was solemnly agreed that the expense should be equally divided, and Burchmore was elected cashier and paymaster. With the assistance of Ole, he changed twelve pounds into Norwegian money, and found himself heavily loaded with the small coins of the country, which would be needed in making change at the stations. After all this important business had been disposed of, the party walked all over the town and its suburbs, and were duly stared at by the astonished people.
“We ought to write a letter to Mr. Lowington, and tell him how we are situated,” suggested Churchill, as they were returning to the station.
“Exactly so; and carry it to him ourselves,” replied Stockwell. “I move you that Burchmore be appointed bearer of despatches.”
“I mean to have the letter sent by mail,” added Churchill.
“We shall be in Christiania as soon as any mail, if there is no steamer for a week,” said Sanford.
“True; I didn’t think of that,” continued the proposer of this precaution. “The principal will be worried about us.”
“Let him worry,” replied the coxswain; “that is, we can’t do anything to relieve his mind.”
“I don’t see that we can,” added Churchill.
For the want of something better to do, the students turned in at an early hour in the evening, and turned out at an early hour in the morning. They all slept in the same room, some of them in beds, and the rest on the floor; but those who slept on the floor were just as well satisfied as those who slept in the beds. After a breakfast consisting mainly of fish, they piled into the carioles. They were all in exceedingly jolly humor, and seated themselves in and on the vehicles in various uncouth postures. One boy in each cariole was to drive the horse, and he was carefully instructed to do nothing but simply hold the reins, and let the well-informed animal have his own way. The horses were rather small, and very shaggy beasts; but they went off at a lively pace. At the first hill they insisted upon walking up, and most of the boys followedtheir example. Behind three of the carioles were the small boys who were to bring the teams back. These juvenile Norwegians were as sober and dignified as though they had been members of the Storthing, refusing to laugh at any of the wild tantrums of the crazy students.
At the first station, where the road from Lillesand joins that from Christiansand to the north, the horses ordered by “forbud” were in readiness, and the party had only to pass from one set of carioles to another. The grim post-boys did smile faintly when they received their perquisites, and others, just as immovable, took their places for the next post. The road now lay along the banks of a considerable river, and the scenery was rather interesting, though by no means grand. They passed an occasional farm; but generally the buildings were of the rudest and shabbiest description, though occasionally there was a neat residence, painted white or yellow, with roof of red tile. The boys walked up all the hills, leaving the sagacious horses to take care of themselves. All the students voted that it was jolly to travel in this manner, and there was no end to the sky-larking and racing on the road. At noon, they stopped long enough to dine, and at night found themselves at Tvetsund, at the foot of Nisser Lake, where they lodged. As this was as far as they had sent their “forbud,” they decided to proceed by boat through the lake, a distance of about twenty miles.
The next day was Sunday, which was always observed with great strictness on board of the ship, no play and no unnecessary work being permitted.There was a little church in the village, but none but Ole could understand a word of the preacher’s prayer or sermon; so that the students voted it would be useless for them to go there. Four of the party, still controlled by the influences which prevailed on board of the ship, did not wish to travel on Sunday; but when it was represented that the ship might leave Christiania before the party arrived, they yielded to the wishes of the other five, and procuring boats, they proceeded on their way. At the head of the lake they took the road, and walked about seven miles to Apalstö.
“We are stuck here,” said Sanford, after they had taken supper at the station-house. “This posting is a first-class fraud.”
“Why, what’s the matter?” demanded Burchmore, alarmed by the manner of the coxswain.
“No horses to be had till Tuesday morning.”
“That’s a fraud.”
“Well, it can’t be helped,” added Sanford, philosophically. “I’m willing to walk, if the rest of the fellows say so.”
“We can’t walk to Christiania.”
“That’s so; and we should not find any more horses at the next station than here. Norway says we didn’t send ‘forbud,’ which must be done when more than three horses are wanted.”
“Why didn’t Ole send ‘forbud,’ then?”
“He said we had better go by boat part of the way; it would be easier. But part of us can take the three horses that are ready, and go on with them.”
“I don’t believe in separating.”
“We are only a day and a half from Christiania, and we shall arrive by Wednesday noon. The ship won’t leave before that time.”
So Burchmore was persuaded to submit to his fate like a philosopher, which, however, was not considered very hard, when it was announced that there was excellent fishing in the vicinity. It is to be feared that Ole and the coxswain had created this hinderance themselves, for the law of the country allows only three hours’ delay in the furnishing of horses. The farmers are compelled to supply them, and doubtless twenty could have been provided in the time allowed, though the young tourists were able to give twelve hours’ notice. This, however, did not suit the coxswain’s purposes, and as he and Ole had occupied the same cariole, there was no want of concert in their words and actions. On Monday the students went a-fishing, paying a small sum for a license to do so, though this is not necessary in all parts of Norway. The united catch of the whole party was one salmon, taken by Burchmore, and weighing about eight pounds. It was voted by the party, before this result was reached, in the middle of the afternoon, that fishing in Norway was “a first-class fraud.” We heard of a party of three, who fished two weeks, and caught eight salmon, though this want of luck is the exception, rather than the rule, in the north.
As the party returned from their excursion, bearing the single trophy of their patience, Clyde Blacklock discovered them. He was alarmed at first, but when he recognized no one among them whom he had seenon board of the ship, he concluded they did not belong to her.
“Good evening, sir,” said he, addressing Sanford, who seemed to be the chief of the excursionists. “You have been a-fishing?”
“Yes; and ten of us have one fish to show for a whole day’s work,” laughed the coxswain.
“Poor luck; but you seem to be sailors,” continued the Briton.
“We belong to the ship Young America.”
“Ah, indeed!”
“That’s so.”
In half an hour Clyde and Sanford were on excellent terms. The former, when he learned that his new acquaintance had not been sent after him, was quite communicative, and even told the story of his experience on board of the ship, and of his escape from bondage. Sanford laughed, and seemed to enjoy the narrative; but straightway the coxswain began to tremble when he learned that Clyde had with him a Norwegian who spoke English. It was necessary to get rid of so dangerous a person without any delay. The Briton liked Sanford so well that he was not willing to leave him; and, indeed, the whole party were so jolly that he desired to join his fortunes with theirs. Sanford wrote a brief letter to Mr. Lowington, stating the misfortunes of the party, and that they expected to arrive in Christiania on Wednesday or Thursday.
“Now, Mr. ——, I don’t know your name,” said Sanford, when he found Clyde, after he had written the epistle.
“Blacklock,” replied the Briton—“Clyde Blacklock.”
“Well, Blacklock, if you want an up-and-down good time, come with us.”
“Where? To Christiania? into the lion’s den?”
“Not yet, but—don’t open your mouth; don’t let on for the world,” whispered the coxswain, glancing at his companions.
“Not a word,” added Clyde, satisfied he had found the right friend.
“We are going to the Rjukanfos to-morrow, but only one or two of us know it yet. Your man will spoil all. Send him back to Christiania this very afternoon. Here’s a blind for him; let him take this letter.”
Clyde liked plotting and mischief, and as soon as his guide had eaten his supper, he was started for his home in the capital, glad enough to go, for he had been paid for all the time agreed upon; and Sanford ceased to tremble lest he should expose to his companions the mistake in regard to horses, or another blunder which was to be made the next morning.
GOTTENBURG AND FINKEL.
On Saturday night, as Clyde had anticipated, his mother arrived at Christiania; and the people at the Victoria informed her of the disappearance of her son. The next morning she hastened on board of the ship, and heard the principal’s story. Mrs. Blacklock wept bitterly, and was fearful that her darling boy was forever lost; but Mr. Lowington assured her that no serious harm could befall him. He spoke very plainly to her in regard to Clyde’s character and his ungovernable passions, assuring her that he must certainly come to an evil end within a few years, if he was not restrained and controlled. The poor mother felt the truth of all he said, and was willing that he should continue the beneficent work upon which he had commenced. She spent the forenoon on board, and was introduced to Kendall and Shuffles and their ladies. The principal illustrated what he had said about Clyde by relating the history of the present captain and owner of the Feodora, and Mrs. Blacklock went away even hopeful that her boy might yet be saved to her.
On Monday, the first secular day of the month, the new list of officers was announced in each vessel ofthe squadron. The changes on board of the ship were not very violent, though the third lieutenant became captain, while Cumberland became the commodore.
“I congratulate you, Captain Lincoln,” said Dr. Winstock to the new commander, when he appeared in the uniform of his new rank.
“Thank you, sir,” replied Lincoln.
“I have been satisfied for some time that you would attain this position.”
“I am only sorry to be promoted over Judson and Norwood, for they have always been good friends of mine.”
“If they are good and true friends they will rejoice at your success, though it places you over them. You have worked very hard, and you are fully entitled to your rank.”
“Thank you, sir. I have tried to do my duty,” replied Lincoln, modestly.
“When I see a young gentleman use the library as freely as you do, I am always tolerably confident that he will attain a high rank. We go on shore this forenoon, I believe.”
“I heard we were to make an excursion to-day, and another to-morrow.”
“You will see something of the interior of Norway, after all, though it is not quite possible to transport two hundred boys over a country where the facilities for travel are so meagre,” added the surgeon.
“For my part, I should like to walk, even a hundred miles.”
“That is not practicable. How could such a crowd be lodged and fed, in some of the small villages where you would be compelled to pass the night?”
“I suppose it would not be possible, and I shall be satisfied with whatever the principal thinks best,” replied the captain.
The students were called to muster, and Mr. Lowington explained that he proposed to spend the day, in picnic style, at Frogner Sæter, and that the party would walk. The boats were then prepared, and the crews of the several vessels went on shore. Captains Kendall and Shuffles procured carriages, for the ladies were not able to walk so far. Passing out of the more densely settled portions of the city, the excursionists came to a delightful region, abounding in pleasant residences, some of which were grand and lofty. For a time the landscape was covered with small cottages, painted white or yellow; but as they proceeded they came to a country very sparsely settled, and very similar to that of New England. The road lay through woods of pine and fir, and had been constructed by Mr. Heftye, a public-spirited citizen, who owned a large estate at the summit of the hill.
“This looks just like Maine,” said Captain Lincoln, who walked at the side of Dr. Winstock.
“Exactly like it. There is a house, however, which is hardly so good as those you see in Maine,” replied the doctor.
“It isn’t any better than a shanty, and the barn is as good as the house. I wonder what that is for;” and Lincoln pointed to a bunch of straw, on the top of a pole, at the entrance of the barn. “I have seen two or three of those here, and near Christiansand.”
“It was grain placed there for the birds during the winter.”
“That’s very kind of the people, I must say.”
“They are very kind to all their animals.”
Near the summit of the hill, the party came to the summer-house of Mr. Heftye, a very neat structure of wood, with a piazza, from which is obtained a beautiful view of the surrounding country. Another half hour brought them to the top of the hill, where the proprietor had erected a wooden tower, or observatory. It was some sixty or seventy feet high, and was stayed with rope guys, extending to the trees on four sides, to prevent it from being blown over. Only twenty of the boys were permitted to go up at one time, for the wind was tolerably fresh, and the structure swayed to and fro like the mast of a ship in a sea. From the top, mountains fifty miles distant could be seen. Christiania Fjord lay like a panorama in the distance, stretching as far as the eye could reach. To the west the country looked wild and desolate, and was covered with wood-crowned mountains, though none of any considerable height could be seen. It was a magnificent view, and some of the most enthusiastic of the students declared that it was worth a voyage to Norway; but boys are proverbially extravagant.
A couple of hours were spent on the hill, the lunch was eaten, and the boys declared that they were well rested. The return walk was not so pleasant, for the novelties of the region had been exhausted. The road passed through private property, where there were at least a dozen gates across it in different places; and as the party approached, a woman, a boy, or a girl appeared, to open them. Kendall or Shuffles rewardedeach of them with a few skillings for the service. When their two and four skilling pieces were exhausted, they were obliged to use larger coins, rather than be mean; but it was observed that the Norwegians themselves, though able to ride in a carriage, never gave anything. It was amusing to see the astonishment of the boys and girls when they received an eight skilling piece, and the haste with which they ran to their parents to exhibit the prize.
The party reached the vessels at five o’clock, and after supper the boats were again in demand for a visit to Oscarshal, the white summer palace, which could be seen from the ship. Mr. Bennett had provided the necessary tickets, and made the arrangements for the excursion. It is certainly a very pretty place, but there are a hundred country residences in the vicinity of New York, Boston, or any other large city of the United States, which excel it in beauty and elegance, as well as in the expense lavished upon them. Before returning to the anchorage, the boat squadron pulled about for a couple of hours among the beautiful islands, and when the students returned to the fleet, they felt that they had about exhausted Christiania and its environs.
The next day they went by the railroad train to Eidsvold, and there embarked in the steamer Kong Oscar for a voyage of sixty-five miles up the Mjosen Lake to Lillehammer, where they arrived at half past five in the afternoon. The scenery of the lake is pleasant, but not grand, the slope of the hills being covered with farms. Near the upper end, the hills are higher, and the aspect is more picturesque. Someof the western boys thought it looked like the shores of the Ohio River, others compared it with the Delaware, and a New Hampshire youth considered it more like Lake Winnipiseogee.
Lillehammer is a small town of seventeen hundred inhabitants. M. Hammer’s and Madame Ormsrud’s hotel were not large enough to accommodate the party, and they began to experience some of the difficulties of travelling in such large numbers; but Mr. Bennett had done his work well, and sleeping-rooms were provided in other houses for the rest. The tourists rambled all over the town and its vicinity, looked into the saw-mills, visited the farms, and compared the agriculture with that of their own country; and it must be added that Norway suffered very much in the comparison, for the people are slow to adopt innovations upon the methods of their fathers.
Early in the morning—for steamers in Norway and Sweden have a villanous practice of starting at unseemly hours—the students embarked for Eidsvold, and were on board the vessels long before the late sunset. On the quarter, waiting for the principal, was Clyde’s courier, who had arrived that morning, after the departure of the excursionists. He evidently had not hurried his journey, though he had been told to do so. He delivered Sanford’s brief note, which was written in pencil, and Mr. Lowington read it. The absentees were safe and well, and would arrive by Thursday. He was glad to hear of their safety, but as the squadron was now ready to sail, he regretted the delay.
“Where did you leave the boys?” asked the principal of the courier.
“At Apalstö,” replied the guide, whose name was Poulsen.
“Do you belong there?”
“No, sir; I live in Christiania. I went down there with a young gentleman last Saturday.”
“Who was he?”
“Mr. Blacklock, sir; a young English gentleman.”
“Ah! did you? And where is Mr. Blacklock now?”
“I left him at Apalstö with a party of young gentlemen who were dressed like the people here; and he sent me back with this letter,” replied Poulsen, who proceeded to explain that Clyde had engaged him as courier for Christiansand, but had changed his mind when he met the party belonging to the ship, and had concluded to return to Christiania with them.
This was precisely what he had been told to say by the young Briton, and probably he believed that it was a correct statement. The principal saw no reason to doubt the truth of it, for Clyde must be satisfied that his mother was in Christiania by this time, and would naturally wish to join her. Anxious to console Mrs. Blacklock, Mr. Lowington called for a boat, and hastened on shore to see her. He found her, her daughter, and Paul Kendall and lady, in the reading-room at the Victoria—a unique apartment, with a fountain in the centre, a glass gallery over the court-yard, and lighted with many-colored lamps. The principal communicated the intelligence he had received of her son to Mrs. Blacklock, whose face lighted up at the news.
“Then you have heard from the absentees, Mr. Lowington,” said Paul Kendall.
“Yes; they are on their way to Christiania, and Sanford says they will arrive to-morrow, at farthest; but they may be delayed,” replied the principal.
“No one need worry about them if they are safe and well,” added Paul, glancing at Clyde’s mother.