On leaving the hotel, Joel and Hulda first paid a visit to the wharves that line the harbor.  Here the crowd was not so great except about the taverns, where huge tankards of beer were being continually called for to moisten throats that seemed to be in a state of constant thirst.

As the brother and sister wandered about among the long rows of barrels and boxes, the vessels which were anchored both near and far from the shore came in for a liberal share of their attention, for might there not be some from the port of Bergen where the “Viking” would never more be seen?

“Ole! my poor Ole!” sighed Hulda, and hearing this pathetic exclamation, Joel led her gently away from the wharves, and up into the city proper.

There, from the crowds that filled the streets and the public squares, they overheard more than one remark in relation to themselves.

“Yes,” said one man; “I hear that ten thousand marks have been offered for ticket 9672.”

“Ten thousand!” exclaimed another.  “Why, I hear that twenty thousand marks, and even more, have been offered.”

“Mr. Vanderbilt, of New York, has offered thirty thousand.”

“And Messrs. Baring, of London, forty thousand.”

“And the Rothschilds, sixty thousand.”

So much for public exaggeration.  At this rate the prices offered would soon have exceeded the amount of the capital prize.

But if these gossips were not agreed upon the sum offered to Hulda Hansen, they were all of one mind in regard to the usurer of Drammen.

“What an infernal scoundrel Sandgoist must be.  That rascal who showed those poor people no mercy.”

“Yes; he is despised throughout the Telemark, and this is not the first time he has been guilty of similar acts of rascality.”

“They say that nobody will buy Ole Kamp’s ticket of him, now he has got it.”

“No; nobody wants it now.”

“That is not at all surprising.  In Hulda Hansen’s hands the ticket was valuable.”

“And in Sandgoist’s it seems worthless.”

“I’m glad of it.  He’ll have it left on his hands, and I hope he’ll lose the fifteen thousand marks it cost him.”

“But what if the scoundrel should win the grand prize?”

“He?  Never!”

“He had better not come to the drawing.”

“No.  If he does he will be roughly handled.  There is no question about that.”

These and many other equally uncomplimentary remarks about the usurer were freely bandied about.

It was evident that he did not intend to be present at the drawing, as he was at his house in Drammen the night before; but feeling his sister’s arm tremble in his, Joel led her swiftly on, without trying to hear any more.

As for Sylvius Hogg, they had hoped to meet him in the street; but in this they were disappointed, though an occasional remark satisfied them that the public was already aware of the professor’s return, for early in the morning he had been seen hurrying toward the wharves, and afterward in the direction of the Naval Department.