speed that was tantalizing to both. With half a dozen stops, it took them nearly an hour to reach Christiania, only eighteen miles away. Looking out of the window, the landscape was a dreary one, of marshland on one side and rocks on the other, all covered with ice and snow. The coach had no heat in it, and Roger declared that his feet were half frozen.
"Puts me in mind of the time I visited a lumber camp in upper Maine," he told his chum. "It was in the winter-time, and they only ran one train a day, of two cars, a freight and a combination of everything else. We were delayed on the road, almost snowed in, and I didn't thaw out for a week afterwards."
At the railroad station in Christiania they had some trouble passing the guard. Again their baggage was looked over, and they were taken to an office and asked a dozen or more questions by a man who looked as if he might be a police-inspector. What it was all about they could not make out, but at first the officer was not inclined to let them go.
"Perhaps you had better go back to where you came from," said the man to Dave.
"Why, what's the trouble?" demanded the youth. "I am sure I have done no wrong."
"What brought you to Norway?"
"I am looking for my father. His name is
