When they quarrelled by the way。
Threats of civil war； of a fight for independence； were heard
throughout Norway。 Meetings were held more or less secretly； and
at each of them was some one with well…filled pockets and glib
tongue； to enlarge on the country's wrongs； and promise
assistance from an outside irresistible power as soon as they
showed that they meant to strike for freedom。 No one openly named
the power。 That was not necessary； it was everywhere felt and
understood。 Men who were real patriots began to believe in it。
Their country was wronged。 Here was one to set her right。 Men
whose honor was beyond question became secret agents of this
power。 The state was honeycombed and mined； society was a tangle
of plots。 The king was helpless； though his only wish was for the
people's welfare。 Honest and straightforward； what could he do
against this far…reaching machination？ The very advisers by his
side were corrupted through mistaken patriotism。 The idea that
they were playing into the hands of the foreigner certainly never
entered into the minds of these dupesat least； not those of the
rank and file。 One or two； tried； selected； and bought by the
arch…enemy； knew the real object in view； and the chief of these
was Borgrevinck； a former lansman of Nordlands。 A man of unusual
gifts； a member of the Storthing； a born leader； he might have
been prime minister long ago； but for the distrust inspired by
several unprincipled dealings。 Soured by what he considered want
of appreciation； balked in his ambition； he was a ready tool when
the foreign agent sounded him。 At first his patriotism had to be
sopped； but that necessity disappeared as the game went on； and
perhaps he alone； of the whole far…reaching conspiracy； was
prepared to strike at the Union for the benefit of the foreigner。
Plans were being perfected；army officers being secretly misled
and won over by the specious talk of 〃their country's wrongs；〃
and each move made Borgrevinck more surely the head of it
all；when a quarrel between himself and the 〃deliverer〃 occurred
over the question of recompense。 Wealth untold they were willing
to furnish； but regal power； never。 The quarrel became more
acute。 Borgrevinck continued to attend all meetings； but was ever
more careful to centre all power in himself； and even prepared to
turn round to the king's party if necessary to further his
ambition。 The betrayal of his followers would purchase his own
safety。 But proofs he must have； and he set about getting
signatures to a declaration of rights which was simply a veiled
confession of treason。 Many of the leaders he had deluded into
signing this before the meeting at Laersdalsoren。 Here they met
in the early winter； some twenty of the patriots； some of them
men of position； all of them men of brains and power。 Here； in
the close and stifling parlor； they planned； discussed； and
questioned。 Great hopes were expressed； great deeds were
forecast； in that stove…hot room。
Outside； against the fence； in the winter night； was a Great
White Reindeer； harnessed to a sled； but lying down with his head
doubled back on his side as he slept； calm； unthoughtful；
ox…like。 Which seemed likelier to decide the nation's fate； the
earnest thinkers indoors； or the ox…like sleeper without？ Which
seemed more vital to Israel； the bearded council in King Saul's
tent； or the light…hearted shepherd…boy hurling stones across the
brook at Bethlehem？ At Laersdalsoren it was as before： deluded by
Borgrevinck's eloquent plausibility； all put their heads in the
noose； their lives and country in his hands； seeing in this
treacherous monster a very angel of self…sacrificing patriotism。
All？ No； not all。 Old Sveggum was there。 He could neither read
nor write。 That was his excuse for not signing。 He could not read
a letter in a book； but he could read something of the hearts of
men。 As the meeting broke up he whispered to Axel Tanberg： 〃Is
his own name on that paper？〃 And Axel； starting at the thought；
said： 〃No。〃 Then said Sveggum： 〃I don't trust that man。 They
ought to know of this at Nystuen。〃 For there was to be the really
important meeting。 But how to let them know was the riddle。
Borgrevinck was going there at once with his fast Horses。
Sveggum's eye twinkled as he nodded toward the Storbuk； standing
tied to the fence。 Borgrevinck leaped into his sleigh and went
off at speed； for he was a man of energy。 Sveggum took the bells
from the harness； untied the Reindeer； stepped into the pulk。 He
swung the single rein； clucked to the Storbuk； and also turned
his head toward Nystuen。 The fast Horses had a long start； but
before they had climbed the eastward hill Sveggum needs must
slack； so as not to overtake them。 He held back till they came to
the turn above the woods at Maristuen； then he quit the road； and
up the river flat he sped the Buk； a farther way； but the only
way to bring them there ahead。
Squeak； crack…squeak； crack…squeak； crackat regular intervals
from the great spreading snow…shoes of the Storbuk； and the
steady sough of his breath was like the Nordland as she passes up
the Hardanger Fjord。 High up； on the smooth road to the left；
they could hear the jingle of the horse…bells and the shouting of
Borgrevinck's driver； who； under orders； was speeding hard for
Nystuen。
The highway was a short road and smooth； and the river valley was
long and rough； but when； in four hours； Borgrevinck got to
Nystuen； there in the throng was a face that he had just left at
Laersdalsoren。 He appeared not to notice； though nothing ever
escaped him。
At Nystuen none of the men would sign。 Some one had warned them。
This was serious； might be fatal at such a critical point。 As he
thought it over； his suspicions turned more and more to Sveggum；
the old fool that could not write his name at Laersdalsoren。 But
how did he get there before himself with his speedy Horses？
There was a dance at Nystuen that night； the dance was necessary
to mask the meeting； and during that Borgrevinck learned of the
swift White Ren。
The Nystuen trip had failed； thanks to the speed of the White
Buk。 Borgrevinck must get to Bergen before word of this； or all
would be lost。 There was only one way； to be sure of getting
there before any one else。 Possibly word had already gone from
Laersdalsoren。 But even at that； Borgrevinck could get there and
save himself； at the price of all Norway； if need be； provided he
went with the White Storbuk。 He would not be denied。 He was not
the man to give up a point； though it took all the influence he
could bring to bear； this time； to get old Sveggum's leave。
The Storbuk was quietly sleeping in the corral when Sveggum came
to bring him。 He rose leisurely； hind legs first； stretched one；
then the other； curling his tail tight on his back as he did so；
shook the hay from the great antlers as though they were a bunch
of twigs； and slowly followed Sveggum at the end of the tight
halter。 He was so sleepy and slow that Borgrevinck impatiently
gave him a kick； and got for response a short snort from the Buk；
and from Sveggum an earnest warning； both of which were somewhat
scornfully received。 The tinkling bells on the harness had been
replaced； but Borgrevinck wanted them removed。 He wished to go in
silence。 Sveggum would not be left behind when his favorite Ren
went forth； so he was given a seat in the horse…sleigh which was
to follow； and the driver thereof received from his master a
secret hint to delay。
Then； with papers on his person to death…doom a multitude of
misguided men； with fiendish intentions in his heart as well as
the power to carry them out； and with the fate of Norway in his
hands； Borgrevinck was made secure in the sled； behind the White
Storbuk； and sped at dawn on his errand of desolation。
At the word from Sveggum the White Ren set off with a couple of
bounds that threw Borgrevinck back in the pulk。 This angered him；
but he swallowed his wrath on seeing that it left the
horse…sleigh behind。 He shook the line； shouted； and the Buk
settled down to a long； swinging trot。 His broad hoofs clicked
double at every stride。 His nostrils； out level； puffed steady
blasts of steam in the frosty morning as he settled to his pace。
The pulk's prow cut two long shears of snow； that swirled up over
man and sled till all were white。 And the great ox…eyes of the
King Ren blazed joyously in the delight of motion； and of
conquest too； as the sound of the horse…bells faded far behind。
Even masterful Borgrevinck could not but mark with pleasure the
noble creature that had balked him last night and now was lending
its speed to his purpose； for it was his intention to arrive
hours before the horse…sleigh； if possible。
Up the rising road they sped as though downhill； and the driver's
spirits rose with the exhilarating speed。 The snow groaned
ceaselessly under the prow of the pulk； and the frosty creaking
under the hoofs of the flying Ren was like the gritting of mighty
teeth。 Then came the level stretch from Nystuen's hill to
Dalecarl's； and as they whirled by in the early day； little Carl
chanced to peep from a window； and got sight of the Great White
Ren in a white pulk with a white driver； just as it is in the
stories of the Giants； and clapped his hands； and cried； 〃Good；
good！〃
But his grandfather； when he caught a glimpse of the white wonder
that went without even sound of bells； felt a cold chill in his
scalp； and went back to light a candle that he kept at the window
till the sun was high； for surely this was the Storbuk of
Jotunheim。
But the Ren whirled on； and the driver shook the reins and
thought only of Bergen。 He struck the White Steed with the loose
end of the rope。 The Buk gave three great snorts and three great
bounds； then faster went； and as they passed by Dyrskaur； where
the Giant sits on the edge； his head was muffled in scud； which
means that a storm is coming。 The Storbuk knew it。 He sniffed；
and eyed the sky with anxious look； and even slacked a little；
but Borgrevinck yelled at the speeding beast； though going yet as
none but he could go； and struck him once； twice； and thrice； and
harder yet。 So the pulk was whirled along like a s