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Updated: June 18, 2025
So they set out on their journey, and every day went a little distance toward the south, till at last, on Christmas Eve, they came to an ancient city at the foot of a range of mountains. "What a strange Christmas this is!" said Hulda, when she looked out the next morning. "Let us stay here, mother, for we are far enough to the south.
Such was the theory that gradually assumed shape in Sylvius Hogg's mind a theory that it would scarcely do to advance to Joel and Hulda, so painful would the disappointment prove if it should be without foundation. "And though the writing gives no clew to the scene of the catastrophe," he said to himself, "we at least know where the bottle was picked up.
"So soon, Mister Sylvius, so soon?" exclaimed Joel, with a dismay he could not conceal. "The time has passed very quickly in your company, but it is now seventeen days since I came to Dal." "What! seventeen days!" repeated Hulda. "Yes, my dear child, and the end of my vacation is approaching. I have only a week at my disposal if I should extend my journey to Drammen and Kongsberg.
"We must save him!" said Hulda. "Yes," replied Joel, "if we can keep our wits about us we shall perhaps be able to reach him." Joel gave a loud shout to attract the attention of the traveler, who immediately turned his head toward the spot from which the sound proceeded; then the worthy fellow devoted a few moments to deciding how he could best rescue the stranger from his dangerous position.
I take great pride in you, my lovely girl; suppose I take you home with me!" He walked to her stool, and laid his warm hand on her neck, standing behind her; she did not move nor change color. "Something has happened to me, Colonel McLane," Hulda spoke, clear as a bell out of a prison, "to make even Johnson's Cross Roads good and happy. Can you guess what it is?"
Hulda thought she had never seen such a curious little man. He was dressed in brown clothes, and had a red-peaked cap on his head; and he and the pedlar soon laid the pack at the bottom of the hole, and began to stamp upon it, dancing and singing with great vehemence.
A moment before he departed, Cy James touched the Captain's sleeve and whispered, "Huldy." Turning to see if he was unobserved, Van Dorn followed to the deep-arched chimney at the northern gable, and dismissed his guide with a look. "Captain Van Dorn," Hulda said, her large gray eyes strained in tenderness and nervous courage, "do that boy Levin no harm: I love him!
Tell me, my pretty bird." But the bird only chirped a little and fluttered its golden wings, so Hulda ceased to ask it, and presently fell asleep, but the bird woke her by pecking her wrist very early, almost before sunrise, and sang: "Who dips a brown hand in the chill shaded water, The water that drips from a slimy green stone?
In fact, the book was still on the table where Hulda had placed it the evening before, and the traveler's name was not in it. "I do not understand how and why these matters can interest you, sir," said Dame Hansen at last; "but if you wish to know the state of our business, nothing could be easier.
As Van Dorn drove the horses up the slight ascent in the rear of the ferry, past an ancient double puncheon house there, with an arch in the centre, young Hulda who now wore shoes and stockings, and a presentable dress of English goods, and looked quite the woman out of her sincere and sometimes proud and eloquent eyes said to him, as she pointed back: "Captain, it was there my father killed the traveller, where we see the road beyond the ferry enter the pines."
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