never failed him even in the most difficult mountain ascents. His
dark-blue jacket, fitting tightly at the waist, was adorned on the
shoulders with epaulets, and in the back with designs in colored
embroidery similar to those that embellish the vests of the Breton
peasantry. His yellow breeches were fastened at the knee by large
buckles. Upon his head he wore a broad-brimmed brown hat with a
red-and-black band, and his legs were usually incased either in coarse
cloth gaiters or in long stout boots without heels.

His vocation was that of a mountain guide in the district of the
Telemark, and even in the Hardanger. Always ready to start, and
untiring in his exertions, he was a worthy descendant of the Norwegian
hero Rollo, the walker, celebrated in the legends of that country.
Between times he accompanied English sportsmen who repair to that
region to shoot the riper, a species of ptarmigan, larger than that
found in the Hebrides, and the jerpir, a partridge much more delicate
in its flavor than the grouse of Scotland. When winter came, the
hunting of wolves engrossed his attention, for at that season of the
year these fierce animals, emboldened by hunger, not unfrequently
venture out upon the surface of the frozen lake. Then there was bear
hunting in summer, when that animal, accompanied by her young, comes
to secure its feast of fresh grass, and when one must pursue it over
plateaus at an altitude of from ten to twelve thousand feet. More than
once Joel had owed his life solely to the great strength that enabled
him to endure the embraces of these formidable animals, and to the
imperturbable coolness which enabled him to eventually dispatch them.

But when there was neither tourist nor hunter to be guided through the
valley of the Vesfjorddal, Joel devoted his attention to the _soetur_,
the little mountain farm where a young shepherd kept guard over half