john ingerfield and other stories-第7部分

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decide　for　yourself。　　Then；　with　many　rough　miles　between　you　and

your　rest；　you　abandon　the　chase。



But　I　speak　from　personal　experience　merely。



All　day　long　we　had　tramped　through　the　pitiless　rain；　stopping　only

for　an　hour　at　noon　to　eat　some　dried　venison　and　smoke　a　pipe

beneath　the　shelter　of　an　overhanging　cliff。　　Soon　afterwards　Michael

knocked　over　a　ryper　（a　bird　that　will　hardly　take　the　trouble　to　hop

out　of　your　way）　with　his　gun…barrel；　which　incident　cheered　us　a

little；　and；　later　on；　our　flagging　spirits　were　still　further

revived　by　the　discovery　of　apparently　very　recent　deer…tracks。

These　we　followed；　forgetful；　in　our　eagerness；　of　the　lengthening

distance　back　to　the　hut；　of　the　fading　daylight；　of　the　gathering

mist。　　The　track　led　us　higher　and　higher；　farther　and　farther　into

the　mountains；　until　on　the　shores　of　a　desolate　rock…bound　vand　it

abruptly　ended；　and　we　stood　staring　at　one　another；　and　the　snow

began　to　fall。



Unless　in　the　next　half…hour　we　could　chance　upon　a　saeter；　this

meant　passing　the　night　upon　the　mountain。　　Michael　and　I　looked　at

the　guide；　but　though；　with　characteristic　Norwegian　sturdiness；　he

put　a　bold　face　upon　it；　we　could　see　that　in　that　deepening　darkness

he　knew　no　more　than　we　did。　　Wasting　no　time　on　words；　we　made

straight　for　the　nearest　point　of　descent；　knowing　that　any　human

habitation　must　be　far　below　us。



Down　we　scrambled；　heedless　of　torn　clothes　and　bleeding　hands；　the

darkness　pressing　closer　round　us。　　Then　suddenly　it　became　black

black　as　pitchand　we　could　only　hear　each　other。　　Another　step

might　mean　death。　　We　stretched　out　our　hands；　and　felt　each　other。

Why　we　spoke　in　whispers；　I　do　not　know；　but　we　seemed　afraid　of　our

own　voices。　　We　agreed　there　was　nothing　for　it　but　to　stop　where　we

were　till　morning；　clinging　to　the　short　grass；　so　we　lay　there　side

by　side；　for　what　may　have　been　five　minutes　or　may　have　been　an

hour。　　Then；　attempting　to　turn；　I　lost　my　grip　and　rolled。　　I　made

convulsive　efforts　to　clutch　the　ground；　but　the　incline　was　too

steep。　　How　far　I　fell　I　could　not　say；　but　at　last　something　stopped

me。　　I　felt　it　cautiously　with　my　foot：　　it　did　not　yield；　so　I

twisted　myself　round　and　touched　it　with　my　hand。　　It　seemed　planted

firmly　in　the　earth。　　I　passed　my　arm　along　to　the　right；　then　to　the

left。　　I　shouted　with　joy。　　It　was　a　fence。



Rising　and　groping　about　me；　I　found　an　opening；　and　passed　through；

and　crept　forward　with　palms　outstretched　until　I　touched　the　logs　of

a　hut；　then；　feeling　my　way　round；　discovered　the　door；　and　knocked。

There　came　no　response；　so　I　knocked　louder；　then　pushed；　and　the

heavy　woodwork　yielded；　groaning。　　But　the　darkness　within　was　even

darker　than　the　darkness　without。　　The　others　had　contrived　to　crawl

down　and　join　me。　　Michael　struck　a　wax　vesta　and　held　it　up；　and

slowly　the　room　came　out　of　the　darkness　and　stood　round　us。



Then　something　rather　startling　happened。　　Giving　one　swift　glance

about　him；　our　guide　uttered　a　cry；　and　rushed　out　into　the　night。

We　followed　to　the　door；　and　called　after　him；　but　only　a　voice　came

to　us　out　of　the　blackness；　and　the　only　words　that　we　could　catch；

shrieked　back　in　terror；　were：　　〃Saetervronen！　　Saetervronen！〃　　（〃The

woman　of　the　saeter〃）。



〃Some　foolish　superstition　about　the　place；　I　suppose；〃　said　Michael。

〃In　these　mountain　solitudes　men　breed　ghosts　for　company。　　Let　us

make　a　fire。　　Perhaps；　when　he　sees　the　light；　his　desire　for　food

and　shelter　may　get　the　better　of　his　fears。〃



We　felt　about　in　the　small　enclosure　round　the　house；　and　gathered

juniper　and　birch…twigs；　and　kindled　a　fire　upon　the　open　stove　built

in　the　corner　of　the　room。　　Fortunately；　we　had　some　dried　reindeer

and　bread　in　our　bag；　and　on　that　and　the　ryper　and　the　contents　of

our　flasks　we　supped。　　Afterwards；　to　while　away　the　time；　we　made　an

inspection　of　the　strange　eyrie　we　had　lighted　on。



It　was　an　old　log…built　saeter。　　Some　of　these　mountain　farmsteads

are　as　old　as　the　stone　ruins　of　other　countries。　　Carvings　of

strange　beasts　and　demons　were　upon　its　blackened　rafters；　and　on　the

lintel；　in　runic　letters；　ran　this　legend：　　〃Hund　builded　me　in　the

days　of　Haarfager。〃　　The　house　consisted　of　two　large　apartments。

Originally；　no　doubt；　these　had　been　separate　dwellings　standing

beside　one　another；　but　they　were　now　connected　by　a　long；　low

gallery。　　Most　of　the　scanty　furniture　was　almost　as　ancient　as　the

walls　themselves；　but　many　articles　of　a　comparatively　recent　date

had　been　added。　　All　was　now；　however；　rotting　and　falling　into

decay。



The　place　appeared　to　have　been　deserted　suddenly　by　its　last

occupants。　　Household　utensils　lay　as　they　were　left；　rust　and　dirt

encrusted　on　them。　　An　open　book；　limp　and　mildewed；　lay　face

downwards　on　the　table；　while　many　others　were　scattered　about　both

rooms；　together　with　much　paper；　scored　with　faded　ink。　　The　curtains

hung　in　shreds　about　the　windows；　a　woman's　cloak；　of　an　antiquated

fashion；　drooped　from　a　nail　behind　the　door。　　In　an　oak　chest　we

found　a　tumbled　heap　of　yellow　letters。　　They　were　of　various　dates；

extending　over　a　period　of　four　months；　and　with　them；　apparently

intended　to　receive　them；　lay　a　large　envelope；　inscribed　with　an

address　in　London　that　has　since　disappeared。



Strong　curiosity　overcoming　faint　scruples；　we　read　them　by　the　dull

glow　of　the　burning　juniper　twigs；　and；　as　we　lay　aside　the　last　of

them；　there　rose　from　the　depths　below　us　a　wailing　cry；　and　all

night　long　it　rose　and　died　away；　and　rose　again；　and　died　away

again；　whether　born　of　our　brain　or　of　some　human　thing；　God　knows。



And　these；　a　little　altered　and　shortened；　are　the　letters：…





Extract　from　first　letter：



〃I　cannot　tell　you；　my　dear　Joyce；　what　a　haven　of　peace　this　place

is　to　me　after　the　racket　and　fret　of　town。　　I　am　almost　quite

recovered　already；　and　am　growing　stronger　every　day；　and；　joy　of

joys；　my　brain　has　come　back　to　me；　fresher　and　more　vigorous；　I

think；　for　its　holiday。　　In　this　silence　and　solitude　my　thoughts

flow　freely；　and　the　difficulties　of　my　task　are　disappearing　as　if

by　magic。　　We　are　perched　upon　a　tiny　plateau　halfway　up　the

mountain。　　On　one　side　the　rock　rises　almost　perpendicularly；

piercing　the　sky；　while　on　the　other；　two　thousand　feet　below　us；　the

torrent　hurls　itself　into　the　black　waters　of　the　fiord。　　The　house

consists　of　two　roomsor；　rather；　it　is　two　cabins　connected　by　a

passage。　　The　larger　one　we　use　as　a　living　room；　and　the　other　is

our　sleeping　apartment。　　We　have　no　servant；　but　do　everything　for

ourselves。　　I　fear　sometimes　Muriel　must　find　it　lonely。　　The　nearest

human　habitation　is　eight　miles　away；　across　the　mountain；　and　not　a

soul　comes　near　us。　　I　spend　as　much　time　as　I　can　with　her；　however；

during　the　day；　and　make　up　for　it　by　working　at　night　after　she　has

gone　to　sleep；　and　when　I　question　her；　she　only　laughs；　and　answers

that　she　loves　to　have　me　all　to　herself。　　（Here　you　will　smile

cynically；　I　know；　and　say；　'Humph；　I　wonder　will　she　say　the　same

when　they　have　been　married　six　years　instead　of　six　months。'）　　At

the　rate　I　am　working　now　I　shall　have　finished　my　first　volume　by

the　spring；　and　then；　my　dear　fellow；　you　must　try　and　come　over；　and

we　will　walk　and　talk　together　'amid　these　storm…reared　temples　of

the　gods。'　　I　have　felt　a　new　man　since　I　arrived　here。　　Instead　of

having　to　'cudgel　my　brains；'　as　we　say；　thoughts　crowd　upon　me。

This　work　will　make　my　name。〃





Part　of　the　third　letter；　the　second　being　mere　talk　about　the　book

（a　history　apparently）　that　the　man　was　writing：



〃MY　DEAR　JOYCE；I　have　written　you　two　lettersthis　will　make　the

thirdbut　have　been　unable　to　post　them。　　Every　day　I　have　been

expecting　a　visit　from　some　farmer　or　villager；　for　the　Norwegians

are　kindly　people　towards　strangersto　say　nothing　of　the

inducements　of　trade。　　A　fortnight　having　passed；　however；　and　the

commissariat　question　having　become　serious；　I　yesterday　set　out

before　dawn；　and　made　my　way　down　to　the　valley；　and　this　gives　me

something　to　tell　you。　　Nearing　the　village；　I　met　a　peasant　woman。

To　my　intense　surprise；　instead　of　returning　my　salutation；　she

stared　at　me；　as　if　I　were　some　wild　animal；　and　shrank　away　from　me

as　far　as　the　width　of　the　road　would　permit。　　In　the　village　the

same　experience　awaited　me。　　The　children　ran　from　me；　the　people

avoided　me。　　At　last　a　grey…haired　old　man　appeared　to　take　pity　on

me；　and　from　him　I　learnt　the　explanation　of　the　mystery。　　It　seems

there　is　a　strange　superstition　attaching　to　this　house　in　which　we

are　living。　　My　things　were　brought　up　here　by　the　two　men　who

accompanied　me　from　Drontheim；　but　the　natives　are　afraid　to　go　near

the　place；　and　prefer　to　keep　as　far　as　possible　from　any　one

connected　with　it。



〃The　story　is　that　the　house　was　built　by　one　Hund；　'a　maker　of

runes'　（one　of　the　old　saga　writers；　no　doubt）；　who　lived　here　with

his　young　wife。　　All　went　peacefully　until；　unfortunately　for　him；　a

certain　maiden　stationed　at　a　neighbouring　saeter　grew　to　love　him。



〃Forgive　me　if　I　am　telling　you　what　you　know；　but　a　'saeter'　is　the

name　given　to　the　upland　pastures　to　which；　during　the　summer；　are

sent　the　cattle；　generally　under　the　charge　of　one　or　more　of　the

maids。　　Here　for　three　months　these　girls　will　live　in　their　lonely

huts；　entirely　shut　off　from　the　world。　　Customs　change　little　in

this　land。　　Two　or　three　such　stations　are　within　climbing　distance

of　this　house；　at　this　day；　looked　after　by　the　farmers'　daughters；

as　in　the　days　of　Hund；　'maker　of　runes。'



〃Every　night；　by　devious　mountain　paths；　the　woman　would　come　and　tap

lightly　at　Hund's　door。　　Hund　had　built　himself　two　cabins；　one

behind　the　other　（these　are　now；　as　I　think　I　have　explained　to