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"<i>Nej</i>," said Hans, gently shaking his head. Nevertheless, the rain formed a roaring cataract before this horizon of which we were in search, and to which we were rushing like madmen.
The eider-down hunter simply shrugged his shoulders as a mark of total ignorance. "In Iceland?" said I, not positively but interrogatively. "Nej," said Hans. "How do you mean?" cried the Professor; "no what are your reasons?" "Hans is wrong," said I, rising. After all the innumerable surprises of this journey, a yet more singular one was reserved to us.
"Nej, tak," she said, in a low, sweet tone; and, retiring a short space from the stone, with all the delicacy of her tender youth and sex, and a winning humility of manner, drew back behind me.
"Now then, my man," said D ; "mind your helm, or you'll have her up in the wind in a minute." "Ja; but luke at moin praam moin Got!" "Curse your pram, she won't hurt; haul her on board," said D to some of the sailors. "Nej, nej," exclaimed the Norwegian; "zare luke zare! Moin Got! luke at moin praam!" "Her timbers are good, ain't they?
Hans had saved me from death whilst I lay rolling on the edge of the crater. "Where are we?" asked my uncle irascibly, as if he felt much injured by being landed upon the earth again. The hunter shook his head in token of complete ignorance. "Is it Iceland?" I asked. "Nej," replied Hans. "What! Not Iceland?" cried the Professor. "Hans must be mistaken," I said, raising myself up.
"I say, old cock, have you any goblins in this place?" asked R , walking close up to the Norwegian, and blowing the smoke from his pipe so voluminously in the little man's face, that he coughed till he nearly spat his quid out of the window. "Nej, nej," replied the Norwegian, as soon as he could breathe to speak, in a tone of surprise that R should suppose such a thing.
"Is it?" said R ; "well, then, let's shoot him as a nuisance." "Nej, nej," exclaimed the Norwegian, with much trepidation, laying hold of R 's fowling-piece, that he had jokingly raised to his shoulder preparatory to its discharge. The animal, whatever it was, still continued trotting towards us, winding its way by the circuitous track of the forest.
The raft flies at a rate that I cannot reckon, but not so fast as the foaming clouds of spray which it dashes from side to side in its headlong speed. "The sail! the sail!" I cry, motioning to lower it. "No!" replies my uncle. "Nej!" repeats Hans, leisurely shaking his head. But now the rain forms a rushing cataract in front of that horizon toward which we are running with such maddening speed.
The Norwegians are superstitious, and believe as confidently in ghosts, as I do in the heat of fire. "What the devil then," continued R , "is that confounded groaning about? Some fellow has committed murder. You had better go and see." "Nej, nej," remonstrated the Norwegian, scratching his head, and moving nervously in his chair at the suggestion.
It became a live question; I determined to treat it as one, and settle it. I stopped a fat Dutchman who was paddling down the middle of the street in his pyjamas, smoking a cigar. "Pardon, Mynheer," I said. "Does a man live here in Jacatra-weg named Erberveld?" "Nej," he shook his big shaved head. "Nej, Mynheer, I do not know." "Pieter Erberveld," I suggested. The man broke into a horse-laugh.
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