He was in the very heart of Norway, and on every side loomed the mountains with their covering of ice and snow. Just behind the hut was a patch of firs, the only trees growing in that vicinity. In front was what in summer was a mountain torrent, now a mass of irregular ice, the hollows filled with snow.

The party had arrived at this place the night before, after four days of almost constant traveling. But here a blinding snowstorm had brought them to a halt, the driver of the sleigh refusing to trust himself and his turnout on the mountain trail beyond.

"It is a bad road," said he to Granbury Lapham, in Norwegian. "A slip and a slide and we should all be killed. We must wait until the storm is over." And so they put up at this hut by the roadside, and the horses were stabled in a cow-shed in the rear.

The four days of traveling in the heart of Norway had been full of interest to Dave and Roger. They had passed through half a dozen towns and as many more villages, and had met not a few people on the road, some dressed like ordinary Europeans and others in the bright-colored clothing of their forefathers. They had had "all kinds of meals, mostly bad," as Dave declared, and both boys longed for some "United States cooking," as Roger said. But one thing pleased them – wherever they slept the beds were good and the rooms as clean as wax.

Up to the day previous they had heard a number of times about the scientific expedition, which was said to be just ahead. But then somebody had sent them astray, and in trying to get on the right road they had been caught in the snowstorm and been forced to take to the shelter as described.

"Too bad, Dave; especially when you hoped to meet your father by Christmas," said Roger. "But shut the door – it is too cold for comfort out there."

"I opened it to get a whiff of fresh air, – it's vile inside, when the cooking is going on – they use so much fat for frying."

The hut was the property of a sturdy mountaineer, who possessed half a dozen cows and a large flock of sheep. He was a big fellow, all of six feet four inches high, with yellowish hair and bright blue eyes. He was generally good-natured, but the boys once saw him give his oldest son a box on the ear that sent the youngster rolling over and over on the floor.

"He's got a hand on him like a ham," remarked the senator's son. "I shouldn't want him to strike me."

"Most of these Norwegian mountain folks are big and strong," said Granbury Lapham. "I fancy the puny ones die off young."

"What do they do for a living? They can't farm much around here," said Dave.

"They raise sheep, goats, and cows, and a good many of them are wood-choppers. Norwegian lumber is a great thing in the market, and of late years the paper mills are after wood-pulp, which they get from the small growth. Along the coast nearly all the inhabitants are fishermen."

The family of the hut-owner consisted of his wife and seven children. For Christmas dinner there were a hare potpie, carrots and onions, and a pudding with honey sauce. The children had a Christmas tree, brought in by their father from the forest, and this was decorated with fancy-colored papers, and rings, stars and animals, all made of a kind of ginger and spice dough and baked by the housewife. There were a few presents, and the boys and Granbury Lapham added to these by giving the children each a small silver piece, which delighted them hugely.

"I'll wager they are having a fine dinner at the Wadsworth home," said Dave, with a sigh. In his mind's eye he could see Jessie, his Uncle Dunston, and all the others, making merry around the board.

"Don't mention it, Dave," answered his chum. "We generally have a bang-up time, too."

"What I miss most of all is my plum-pudding, don't you know," remarked Granbury Lapham. "I've had plum-pudding for Christmas ever since I was a baby."

"I'd like to know how my father is faring."

"And my brother," added the Englishman.

"Well, we are bound to catch up to them soon, so don't let us worry about it any more," said the senator's son, cheerfully.

The mountaineer was something of a huntsman, and showed the boys his shotgun, a weapon they considered rather antiquated, yet one capable of doing good service.

"He says he once brought down a bear with that gun," said Granbury Lapham. "It must have been at close quarters, for, as I understand it, a Norway bear is a pretty tough creature to kill."

"Do they have many wild animals up here?" questioned Roger, with interest.

"They have, besides bears, a good many wolves, some lynxes, and also red deer, reindeer, hares, and a variety of small animals."

"We must go out hunting before we leave Norway!" cried Roger, who liked the sport very much.

"All right, I'm willing," answered Dave. "But I should like to find my father first," he added, hastily.

"Oh, of course."

The evening of Christmas Day was spent in watching the children around the decorated tree, which was lit up with a dozen or more tiny candles, of home production. Then the boys turned in and Granbury Lapham followed.

About the middle of the night came a great disturbance, and in a minute the household was in an uproar. They heard the mountaineer call to his wife, and then, lantern in hand, he rushed outside and toward the sheepfold, back of the cow-shed.

"Some wolves have gotten among the sheep," explained Granbury Lapham, after a few words with the woman of the hut. "The man is going after them with his gun."

"Let us see if we can aid him!" exclaimed Roger, and slipped on such of his clothing as he had taken off. He had a loaded pistol in his pocket.

"If you go out, I'll go too," answered Dave, and followed his chum to the rear of the hut. He, too, had a pistol, purchased before going on the journey in the sleigh, and now he looked to see that the weapon was in condition for use.

Outside, they heard the mountaineer calling loudly, although they could not make out what was being said. There was a commotion in the sheepfold and also in the cow-shed. Then came a crashing sound, and from the cow-shed came one of the horses.

"Hullo! one of the horses is running away!" cried Dave. "This won't do at all! Whoa! Whoa, there!"

But the steed did not whoa – evidently not understanding such a command! On it went, around the corner of the hut and along the snowy trail. The sleigh driver was up and after it, and set off on a labored run, cracking a whip as he went.

"I see a wolf!" cried Roger. The beast had just left the sheepfold and was carrying something in its mouth. Evidently it was nearly famished, or it would never have stopped to carry off such a burden.

"It's a sheep!" said Dave.

As he spoke, the senator's son fired, and the bullet from his pistol hit the wolf in the side. The beast staggered for a second and then kept on, still carrying the sheep in its strong teeth.

"He's game, that's sure," said Dave, and now he, too, fired, running forward as he did so. Then came the roar of the shotgun from the sheepfold and out came another wolf, followed presently by a third. The fourth and last of the pack was instantly killed by the mountaineer, who literally, at close range, blew the animal's head off.

Dave's shot caused the wolf with the sheep to falter, and presently it dropped its burden and limped away for the nearest patch of firs. As it did this the second and the third wolf ranged up by the side of the two young Americans. Roger fired three shots in succession and Dave fired twice, but the animals were so quick that but little damage was done. One beast was hit in the tail and the other in the shoulder, and this made them extremely ugly.

Granbury Lapham had come out, but was at the sheepfold with the mountaineer. As a consequence the two boys faced the two wolves alone. One was sniffing at the body of the dead sheep, and now it essayed to raise the carcass up.

"He's going to run off with that sheep!" cried Roger.

"Not if I know it!" answered Dave, and rushing closer, he took the best aim the night afforded and blazed away. The wolf dropped the carcass, gave a vicious snarl, and turned abruptly.

"Look out!" yelled the senator's son, and scarcely had he spoken when the wolf was at Dave's very feet, glaring ferociously into the youth's face. Dave wanted to fire at the animal, but only a click of the hammer followed the pulling of the pistol's trigger.

It was a moment of peril, but Roger came to the rescue. Not to hit his chum, he ran around to the wolf's side and blazed away twice in rapid succession. This was too much for the wolf, and with only a grunt it rolled over and stretched out dead.

"Good for you, Roger!" said Dave. "If you hadn't – Look out, here comes the other wolf!"

Dave was right: undaunted by the death of its mate, the last wolf – the largest of the pack of four – had leaped up through the snow and darkness. It was so hungry that the smell of blood maddened it beyond all endurance. It leaped so close to Dave it brushed his legs, then grabbed the sheep and began to drag the carcass rapidly through the snow.

"He's game, I must say!" cried Roger, and reloaded his pistol, while Dave did the same. Then came a shout from the sheepfold and the mountaineer put in an appearance, followed by Granbury Lapham.

The man of the place was angry, for three of his best sheep had been killed. He blazed away as soon as he saw the wolf, but his aim was poor, and the snow, blown up by a sudden wind, almost hid the beast from sight. Then the Englishman fired, hitting the wolf in the right hind leg. The animal whirled savagely, dropped the sheep, gave a snarl of rage, and suddenly confronted Roger.

"Get back, you!" yelled the senator's son, and fired point-blank at the wolf. He hit only one ear, and in a twinkling the wolf was on his breast, trying his best to get at Roger's throat.

CHAPTER XXI

CAUGHT IN A WINDSTORM

It was an anxious moment for all, and the others expected to see poor Roger almost torn to pieces. The wolf was big and strong, and hunger and the wounds it had received made it a formidable antagonist. Its eyes gleamed like those of a tiger.

"Help! help!" cried Roger, and then his words were drowned in the crack of Dave's pistol. Taking the best aim he could, the youth fired three times, and the wolf was hit in the side and the rump. It fell to the ground, whirled over and over in the snow, and started for Dave. Then Granbury Lapham fired, and the wolf fell over on its side. A moment later the mountaineer rushed in, and with a club he had picked up at the sheepfold dashed out the brains of the creature; and thus the strange and unexpected encounter came to an end.

Roger had suffered little more than a few scratches, yet he was so weak that the others had to support him back to the hut.

"I – I felt it was my last minute on earth!" he gasped. "If that wolf had been left alone another ten seconds he would have bitten me in the throat!"

"He was certainly a savage beast," replied Dave. He, too, was trembling, in spite of all he could do to control himself.

Several lights were now lit; and leaving Roger at the hut, the others went around to view the damage done. The mountaineer mourned the loss of his sheep, but was rejoiced to know so many wolves were dead.

"I know that big wolf," he told the Englishman. "He had given me a great deal of trouble. He was the leader of the pack. Now he is gone, perhaps I shall have peace for the rest of the winter."

The sleigh driver had returned with the runaway horse. The animal was highly excited and the driver had all he could do to quiet the steed.

"I could tell a long story about this horse," said the sleigh driver. "Once we were caught near Stamo in a great snow. The wolves came after us and this horse was bitten in the flank. That is what made him so afraid. The other horses do not know what wolves really are, and they did not mind them any more than they would so many dogs."

"This is a Christmas night to remember," said Dave, when they finally turned in again. "Roger, if this sort of thing keeps up, we are in for a trip full of excitement."

"Thank you, I don't want to meet any more wolves," replied the senator's son.

All were worn out by what had happened and glad to sleep late the following day. When they arose they found the storm had cleared away and it was as bright as could be expected at this time of year. Once more the sleigh was brought forth and the double team harnessed up. From the mountaineer they obtained a few extra provisions, including a portion of the mutton that had been killed. For this the man would take no pay, but the boys made his wife a present of some silver that pleased the family very much.

"And now to catch the exploring party!" cried Dave. "I don't think they traveled any further than we did in that awful snowstorm."

"It all depends upon what road they were on, so Hendrik tells me," answered Granbury Lapham. Hendrik was the sleigh driver, a good-natured man, although rather silent.

"Does he mean that they could travel on some of the roads, even if it did storm?" asked Dave.

"Yes."

"Well, all we can do is to follow them the best we know how," said Roger.

The new fall of snow had made traveling very heavy, and by noon they had covered only nine miles. Not a hut was in sight, and they made a temporary camp at the edge of a pine forest, where the trees sheltered them from the wind. A fire was built and they broiled a piece of mutton and made a large pot of coffee.

"What a sparsely settled country this is!" remarked the senator's son. "I declare, it looks like some spots in the far West of the United States."

"Norway is the most thinly settled country of Europe," answered Granbury Lapham. "And instead of growing better it seems to grow worse. Many of the peasants emigrate to Canada and the United States, where they can get productive farms without much trouble."

It was necessary to let the horses rest for an hour, and during that time the two boys strolled around the vicinity. There was, however, not much to see, and once off the road they found walking uncertain and dangerous.

"I can now understand why the driver didn't want to go on in that storm," was Dave's comment, when he pulled himself out of a gully several feet deep. "A little more and I'd have gone heels over head, and what would happen to the turnout in such a place I don't know."

"If the sleigh breaks down, or we lose a horse, it will be very bad," answered the Englishman, gravely. "The further north we go the more careful we must be, or we may not get back in safety. I think that exploring expedition was rather a foolhardy undertaking – at this season of the year."

"I believe I know what prompted my father to undertake it," said Dave. "It was the spirit of adventure. My Uncle Dunston says my father loves an adventure of any kind."

"Do you take after him?" asked the Englishman, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I think I must – otherwise I shouldn't be here," and Dave smiled broadly.

The sleigh driver said that if they made good time during the afternoon they would reach the village of Bojowak by five or six o'clock. Here he was certain they would hear further of the exploring party.

"Then let us hurry all we can," said Dave. "If it is too much of a pull for the horses, I, for one, am willing to walk part of the way."

"So am I," added the senator's son, and the Englishman also agreed to this, although he declared that trudging in the deep snow generally winded him greatly.

They were now approaching a dangerous part of the road, which ran around the western slope of two fair-sized mountains. They progressed with care, and frequently the driver would go in advance, to make sure that the footing was good.

"If only the fellows of Oak Hall could see us now!" declared Dave. "Wonder what they would say?"

"I must take another snapshot or two," answered Roger.

He had brought a folding pocket camera with him and had already taken several rolls of pictures. None of the films had been developed, so he could not as yet tell how the snapshots would turn out. Now he took a picture of Dave knee-deep in snow, with the turnout and the others in the background.

"I ought to have a picture of that fight with the wolves," said Roger, when he put his camera away. "When we tell about it at the Hall some of the fellows will be sure to say it's a fish-story."

"Nat Poole won't believe it for one, Roger; and I don't think Merwell will believe it either."

At the mention of Merwell's name Dave's face clouded for an instant.

"I wish Merwell would leave Oak Hall, Roger," he said. "Somehow, I like that chap less than I do Nat Poole or anybody else – even Jasniff."

"So do I. Poole is a fool, and Jasniff is a hot-headed scamp, but this Merwell – " The senator's son could not finish.

"I believe Merwell has the making of a thoroughly bad fellow in him," finished Dave. "I don't see how Doctor Clay allowed him to join the school."

On and on went the sleigh. The road was up hill, and all hands walked. Once they passed a man on horseback, wrapped up in furs. He stared at them curiously.

"Stop, please!" called out Granbury Lapham, in Norwegian, and the traveler came to a halt. When questioned he said he had heard about the strange party of six men who had come into that part of Norway, and he had also heard that the authorities were watching them.

"But where did they go to?" asked the Englishman.

That the man could not tell, but said they might possibly find out at Bojowak, from a man named Quicklabokjav.

"What a name!" cried Dave.

"It's bad enough – but I have heard worse," answered Granbury Lapham. "Some of the Norwegian names are such that a person speaking the English tongue cannot pronounce them correctly."

They were now more anxious than ever to reach Bojowak, which Hendrik said was a village of about sixty or seventy inhabitants. The people were mostly wood-choppers, working for a lumber company that had located in that territory two years before.

The wind was beginning to rise again. This blew the snow down from the mountain side, and occasionally the landscape was all but blotted out thereby. They struggled along as best they could, the driver cracking his whip with the loudness of a pistol. They passed around one edge of the mountain, only to view with consternation a still more dangerous stretch of road ahead.

"Dave, this is getting interesting," remarked Roger, as the horses stopped for a needed rest.

"I don't like the looks of that road, Roger. There is too much snow on the upper side and too deep a hollow on the lower."

"Right you are." The senator's son turned to the Englishman. "Mr. Lapham, will you ask Hendrik if he thinks it is safe to go on?"

When appealed to, the burly sleigh driver merely shrugged his shoulders. Then he looked up the mountain side speculatively.

"He says he thinks we can get through if the wind doesn't blow too strongly," said Granbury Lapham, presently.

"But the wind is blowing strong enough now," answered Roger.

"And it is gradually getting w

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Dave Porter in the Far North: or, The Pluck of an American Schoolboy

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