This sight led Sylvius Hogg to jestingly remark—­and he certainly must have been in a mood for jesting: 

“If our lakes are the eyes of Norway, as our poets pretend, it must be admitted that poor Norway has more than one beam in her eye, as the Bible says.”

About four o’clock the boat reached Tinoset, one of the most primitive of hamlets.  Still that mattered little, as Sylvius Hogg had no intention of remaining there even for an hour.  As he had prophesied to Joel, a vehicle was awaiting them on the shore, for having decided upon this journey several weeks before, he had written to Mr. Benett, of Christiania, requesting him to provide the means of making it with the least possible fatigue and delay, which explains the fact that a comfortable carriage was in attendance, with its box well stocked with eatables, thus enabling the party to dispense with the stale eggs and sour milk with which travelers are usually regaled in the hamlets of the Telemark.

Tinoset is situated near the end of Lake Tinn, and here the Maan plunges majestically into the valley below, where it resumes its former course.

The horses being already harnessed to the carriage, our friends immediately started in the direction of Bamble.  In those days this was the only mode of travel in vogue throughout Central Norway, and through the Telemark in particular, and perhaps modern railroads have already caused the tourist to think with regret of the national kariol and Mr. Benett’s comfortable carriages.

It is needless to say that Joel was well acquainted with this region, having traversed it repeatedly on his way from Dal to Bamble.

It was eight o’clock in the evening when Sylvius Hogg and his protegees reached the latter village.  They were not expected, but Farmer Helmboe received them none the less cordially on that account.  Siegfrid tenderly embraced her friend, and the two young girls being left alone together for a few moments, they had an opportunity to discuss the subject that engrossed their every thought.

“Pray do not despair, my dearest Hulda,” said Siegfrid; “I have not ceased to hope, by any means.  Why should you abandon all hope of seeing your poor Ole again?  We have learned, through the papers, that search is being made for the ‘Viking.’  It will prove successful, I am certain it will, and I am sure Monsieur Sylvius has not given up all hope.  Hulda, my darling, I entreat you not to despair.”

Hulda’s tears were her only reply, and Siegfrid pressed her friend fondly to her heart.

Ah! what joy would have reigned in Farmer Helmboe’s household if they could but have heard of the safe return of the absent one, and have felt that they really had a right to be happy.

“So you are going direct to Christiania?” inquired the farmer.

“Yes, Monsieur Helmboe.”

“To be present at the drawing of the great lottery?”

“Certainly.”