“That is true.  Tell me, do you know the most direct route from Moel to Christiania?”

“Perfectly, sir.  But I fear when we reach Tinoset, at the further end of the lake, we shall have some difficulty in procuring a kariol, as we have not warned them of our intended arrival, as is customary in this country.”

“Have no fears, my boy,” replied the professor:  “I attended to that.  You needn’t be afraid that I have any intention of making you foot it from Dal to Christiania.”

“I could easily do it if necessary,” remarked Joel.

“But it will not be necessary, fortunately.  Now suppose we go over our route again.”

“Well, once at Tinoset, Monsieur Sylvius, we for a time follow the shores of Lake Fol, passing through Vik and Bolkesko, so as to reach Mose, and afterward Kongsberg, Hangsund, and Drammen.  If we travel both night and day it will be possible for us to reach Christiania to-morrow afternoon.”

“Very well, Joel.  I see that you are familiar with the country, and the route you propose is certainly a very pleasant one.”

“It is also the shortest.”

“But I am not at all particular about taking the shortest route,” replied Sylvius Hogg, laughing.  “I know another and even more agreeable route that prolongs the journey only a few hours, and you, too, are familiar with it, my boy, though you failed to mention it.”

“What route do you refer to?”

“To the one that passes through Bamble.”

“Through Bamble?”

“Yes, through Bamble.  Don’t feign ignorance.  Yes, through Bamble, where Farmer Helmboe and his daughter Siegfrid reside.”

“Monsieur Sylvius!”

“Yes, and that is the route we are going to take, following the northern shore of Lake Fol instead of the southern, but finally reaching Kongsberg all the same.”

“Yes, quite as well, and even better,” answered Joel smiling.

“I must thank you in behalf of my brother, Monsieur Sylvius,” said Hulda, archly.

“And for yourself as well, for I am sure that you too will be glad to see your friend Siegfrid.”

The boat being ready, all three seated themselves upon a pile of leaves in the stern, and the vigorous strokes of the boatsmen soon carried the frail bark a long way from the shore.

After passing Hackenoes, a tiny hamlet of two or three houses, built upon a rocky promontory laved by the narrow fiord into which the Maan empties, the lake begins to widen rapidly.  At first it is walled in by tall cliffs whose real height one can estimate accurately only when a boat passes their base, appearing no larger than some aquatic bird in comparison; but gradually the mountains retire into the background.

The lake is dotted here and there with small islands, some absolutely devoid of vegetation, others covered with verdure through which peep a few fishermen’s huts.  Upon the lake, too, may be seen floating countless logs not yet sold to the saw-mills in the neighborhood.