“Get behind, boy,” shouted the traveller, “you’re pulling back. He’s quiet enough--let go, boy!!”
At last the Skydskarl retreated in confusion to the back of the carriole, half crying. The traveller was soon out of his difficulty, and rapidly disappeared along the road, apparently intent on his fishing expedition. Occasionally we came to a rural cottage, at one of which we noticed a lamb, and a goat. Zachariah played a pretty slow waltz, as we lounged along the road, all rather sleepy and tired. There was something of pure romance, and feeling, as we stood apart in spirit, and contemplated our calvacade, pushing their way to some unknown camping ground. There was our fine, strong, light-coloured donkey, with its Jerusalem cross, carrying its heavy packs with ease, stepping to the music of the bells on its scarlet collar. There was something soothing in those bells, timed by the animal’s movement. Then followed the puro rye, and the tarno rye, contrasting in colour. There was Zachariah walking by their side, now and then performing, a slow waltz, to the tune he was playing on his violin. However long the day, however wet and disagreeable the weather, still his gleaming eyes and merry ha! ha! dit a kei, the _tarno rye_, by gum, Mr. Smith is going to _dell_ (gip., give) _mandy_ a _metramengery_ (gip., tea) this evening. Then came the tall form of Noah with his Alpine stock, and deer-stalking hat, set jauntily on one side. Noah was an admirable fellow for loading and packing; he had much improved since our campaign last summer; never out of temper, with plenty of energy and determination. By our side walked Esmeralda, in her long tweed cloak, fastened round her waist, small hat and feather, and thick boots studded with nails. Our guitar, in a light cover, was slung over her shoulder, whilst we carried, in a light cover, made on purpose, her tambourine, with our courier bag. Tall and slim, with raven hair, and jet black eyes, about our own height, the young gipsy girl had an indomitable spirit. Sometimes she caught hold of our hand, so that it might be more help to her, as we journeyed onwards, for she had had no sleep the previous night, and was much tired, all had been dreadfully bitten with mosquitos. The log houses we came to, had their groups of peasants waiting to see us. Some would run with tumultuous haste, to be in time, and a red cap generally appeared prominently as one of the number. They had often a good-humoured smile on their countenances. It was lovely scenery all the way, especially when we reached the turning to “Venebrygden” and crossed a rapid, broad stream, issuing from a rocky gorge, beneath a lofty mountain, whose base to nearly its summit, was covered with fir. An old man with a wallet came from a log house, near the road, and we gave him a piece of money. At length we came to a place we were told was Listari. It was a large house of superior construction, on the road side, with extensive buildings, and an appearance of much comfort. Some heads appeared at the windows as we approached. Then we heard the sudden clatter of feet, running downstairs, to obtain a nearer view of our party.