We "humped our packs" on to our
backs, and, with rod and gun in hand and the dogs trotting alongside,
we started up the hills through the forest, bogs, and rocks, to get to
the farm three miles away, where we were to spend the night at the
foot of the mountains.
* * * * *
THE JASJVOLD SAETER.
That means the name of the farm where we stopped, and we made it our
headquarters for several days.
"Saeter" means "summer farm." The Norwegian farmers are mostly dairy
and cattle farmers, and in the summer they take their herds up on to
the high ground for the grazing, and bring them back into the lower
and warmer valleys in winter.
Our farmer at Jasjvold was named Slackman; and he was a slack man to
look at--very wild and unkempt, with a tousled head of hair, and a
rough beard; clothed in a blue jumper, and breeches and rough
stockings, and carrying a big knife in his belt, he looked as if he
could and would willingly slit your throat while you were asleep; but
on Sundays he was a very different character.
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